Desperate Measures. Sara Craven

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СКАЧАТЬ bit her lip. ‘I might be just as bad.’

      ‘That is a risk I shall have to take.’ His eyes swept with disturbing candour over her face, and down her body. ‘Your skin at least is clear—what I can see of it. And you are also a loyal and loving daughter, or so Lady Underhay assures me. That is why she and her husband suggested I should have this interview with you.’

      He paused. ‘We both have dire problems, mademoiselle, and to solve them, only desperate measures will do. Agreed?’

      Desperate measures, she thought. Her own words come back to haunt her.

      ‘Well—perhaps.’ She spread her hands helplessly. ‘But—marriage …’

      He studied her for a long moment. ‘The implications of that word deter you, peut-être. You wish to be reassured about the exact nature of the relationship I am offering?’

      Philippa found she was blushing to the roots of her hair. ‘Yes.’

      ‘Well, that is natural.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘I am not a savage, Philippa, but at the same time I need to ensure that the de Courcy name continues to the next generation. I will, one day, ask you to give me a son. But you will be given time—as much as you need—to—accustom yourself before that happens. Is that the assurance you require?’

      ‘Yes—no—I don’t know.’ Philippa gripped her hands together. ‘Oh, this is ridiculous—an impossible situation!’

      ‘As you say. But it is also a practical solution to our mutual difficulties.’

      ‘And that’s all that matters?’

      ‘What else is there?’ He sounded amused.

      ‘What about—love?’

      ‘What about it, indeed?’ He was laughing openly now. His teeth were very white, she noticed irrelevantly. ‘But as you mentioned earlier, mademoiselle, we have only just met. I feel any declaration of passion on my part would be premature …’

      ‘I didn’t mean that,’ she said angrily.

      ‘No? Then are you telling me there is already an important relationship in your life?’

      The frankly sceptical note in his voice grated on her, and she lifted her chin, her blush deepening hectically. ‘Is it so impossible?’

      ‘It is unlikely,’ he said with infuriating calmness. ‘You have a disturbingly—untouched quality.’

      She glared at him. ‘As a matter of fact, I was really wondering what would happen if, after we were married, one of us—both of us—met someone else.’

      ‘Marriage is not always a barrier to such relationships,’ he said softly. ‘As long as discretion is maintained.’

      ‘That’s an abominably cynical point of view!’

      ‘And, again, I thought I was being practical,’ Alain de Courcy retorted. ‘In any event, we are not yet married, so why look for difficulties where there are none?’

      ‘Oh, of course, everything’s going to be plain sailing,’ Philippa flung back at him scathingly. ‘I can see that.’

      He was silent for a long moment, then he said levelly, ‘Philippa, marriage is never easy. Even if we had met and fallen madly in love, there would still have to be—adjustments. Our situation is unusual, perhaps, but who can say that a marriage which springs from mutual convenience and friendship cannot succeed eventually?’

      ‘Except that we’re not friends,’ she said in a stifled voice.

      ‘Not yet, perhaps, but is the prospect so impossible?’

      ‘Almost completely, I’d have said.’ She shook her head. ‘Oh, there must be someone else you can ask.’

      He shrugged. ‘As I have said, I can always advertise. But to whom will you go for the money that you need with such desperation? Or did your stepmother exaggerate this?’

      ‘No.’ Philippa bent her head wretchedly. ‘She was quite right. Only—I just didn’t think it would—come to this.’ She glanced at him. ‘You—wouldn’t consider just—lending me the money.’

      ‘Only with a marriage certificate for security. I want to buy instant respectability from you, ma chérie. I spend a lot of my time in your country. I propose to tell my family and friends that we met on a previous visit, and I have been courting you ever since. We kept our marriage private because of your father’s ill health.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Voilà! All the rumours silenced at one blow.’

      She sighed deeply. ‘It isn’t that simple. I can’t answer you now—tonight. You’ve got to let me have time to think—to decide …’

      ‘That is reasonable. I am staying at the Savoy Hotel. You may contact me there.’ He got to his feet, and she followed suit. ‘But don’t keep me waiting too long, mademoiselle. For both of us, time is of the essence.’ He paused. ‘Would it make any difference if I told you I possess one of your father’s pictures?’

      ‘Oh?’ Her lips parted in renewed astonishment. ‘Which one?’

      ‘The Bridge at Montascaux. It would be a pity to let such talent and vigour—waste away.’ He allowed his words to sink in for a few seconds, then smiled at her. ‘Now, may I drive you home?’

      ‘Oh, no, thank you.’ Philippa took an involuntary step backwards away from him. She felt as if she’d been inadvertently locked into a cage with a tiger, and lucky to escape with her life.

      But if I marry him, she thought, panic closing her throat, there’ll be no escape. I shall have to live with him—share a roof. Eventually—a bed.

      Her mind blanked off, refusing to accept such a possibility.

      Yet there was the money for Gavin—available for her, as he’d promised. That was what she had to remember. She needed a miracle, and perhaps that was what she was being offered.

      But it didn’t feel like any miracle. It felt like a two-edged sword—dangerous and unpredictable. I am no saint, he had said, and she could well believe it.

      She realised he was watching her closely, the green eyes narrowed, and hurried into speech.

      ‘I’ll let you know tomorrow what I decide—I promise.’

      ‘Then I shall wait impatiently until then.’ He strolled across to her, and before she realised what he intended, lifted her hand briefly to his lips. The contact was fleeting, but she felt as if her flesh had been seared.

      He looked down at her, smiling faintly into her eyes. He said softly, ‘I wish you a restful night, ma chère. And if you cannot sleep, think well.’

CHAPTER TWO

      WHEN SHE AWOKE the following morning to pale sunlight filtering through the curtains, Philippa thought at first it had all been some wild, СКАЧАТЬ