Wedding Fever. Lee Wilkinson

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      A sudden fear, like the shock of an icy plunge, made her brain click into gear.

      Until now, Nick had been the only man who had ever been able to engender such an urgent and overwhelming response. And she didn’t want to feel this way. It terrified her.

      Stiffening in rejection, she tried to push him away.

      Refusing to be so summarily dismissed, he finished the kiss unhurriedly before lifting his head.

      Raine’s eyes flew open.

      At first, dazzled by the low sun, she could see nothing but brightness. Then she found herself focusing on a lean, sardonic face, with brows and lashes several shades darker than the thick blond hair, and eyes of a deep midnight-blue. A strong-boned, handsome face. No, much more than handsome—a fascinating, compelling face. A face she had taught herself to hate. A face she’d hoped never to see again...

      Panic swept over her as her worst fears were confirmed. ‘You!’ she whispered, jerking upright. Trying to swamp fear with anger, she demanded furiously, ‘What are you doing here? How dare you kiss me like that?’

      A level brow was lifted mockingly. ‘How did you want me to kiss you?’ His mouth, the top lip thin, the bottom one seductive, was much too close for comfort. ‘With more respect and less enthusiasm, as I understand your noble fiancé does?’

      ‘I don’t want you to kiss me at all,’ she hissed at him.

      ‘You did once,’ he reminded her with deliberate cruelty.

      Her mind was suddenly in confusion, beset by memories that returned to her with devastating clarity.

      Calib, who had been watching from a short distance away, came back with a little rush to push between them as, face burning, Raine ignored the goad and demanded, ‘And how do you know how Kevin kisses me?’

      ‘Your father described Kevin Somersby as a minor civil servant—a steady and correct young man.’

      ‘Which you interpreted as dull and inhibited!’

      Rising to his feet in one fluid movement, Nick held out a lean suntanned hand. ‘Was I wrong?’

      ‘Totally wrong! He’s—’ Breaking off the hasty words, she said coldly, ‘I’ve no intention of discussing Kevin with you.’ Carefully avoiding Nick’s outstretched hand, she scrambled to her feet.

      The clamour of her own heartbeat almost deafening her, she busied herself brushing wisps of grass from her grey and white striped cotton shirtwaister.

      Her diamond solitaire flashed in the sun. Aware that his eyes followed it thoughtfully, she asked again, ‘What are you doing here?’

      His healthy white teeth gleamed in a smile. A smile that, like his words, held a subtle threat ‘If the mountain won’t come to Mahomet...’

      Just for an instant both her heart and breathing seemed to stop. She took a long, shuddering breath and asked the first thing that came into her head. ‘Did Dad know you were coming?’

      ‘Yes, he knew. I gather he didn’t tell you?’

      Her green eyes flashed. ‘You probably asked him not to!’

      Neither confirming nor denying the charge, Nick said, ‘I thought it was high time we had a talk.’

      Feeling as though a silken noose was tightening around her throat, she informed him, ‘There’s nothing to talk about. I’m going to be married in a month.’ She spoke the words as though they were a talisman with the power to keep danger at bay.

      ‘Really?’ he drawled.

      ‘Yes, really.’ She strove to sound serene and certain, but all at once she hardly believed it herself. To add substance to the declaration, and aware that her father and Nick corresponded regularly, she added, ‘Surely Dad must have mentioned it?’ And then she knew that of course he had. That was why Nick was here!

      His smile oblique, Nick agreed, ‘Oh, yes, he mentioned it...‘ But he wasn’t very happy about it. The words were as clear as if they’d been spoken aloud. Eyes glinting, Nick went on, ‘However, I gather he doesn’t think too much of your intended.’

      It was the truth and she couldn’t deny it. Angry with both of them, she said sharply, ‘What he thinks of Kevin is nothing to do with you.’

      ‘Oh. I don’t know... Apart from anything else we’re family. Kissing cousins, you might say.’

      When Raine failed to rise to the bait, stooping to stroke Calib, who, purring like a young traction engine, was winding sinuously around Nick’s ankles, he remarked reflectively, ‘Though, apart from just now, it’s almost a year since you last kissed me.’

      Swallowing hard, feeling the past she’d struggled so hard to leave behind closing in on her, Raine denied it. ‘I didn’t kiss you just now.’

      Straightening to his full height of well over six feet, towering over her five feet six inches, he said, ‘Strange. That’s what it felt like.’

      ‘I thought it was Kevin.’

      ‘Well, if he’s able to make you respond so passionately, perhaps your father’s wrong about him being prudish.’

      Though she knew he was trying to provoke her, she couldn’t stop herself saying, ‘Kevin’s not prudish. He just isn’t—’ Breaking off, she continued raggedly, ‘I much prefer romance to...’

      ‘Passion?’ Nick suggested when she faltered. Dark blue eyes holding an expression that could have been contempt, he continued derisively, ‘But of course romance is so much less disturbing than passion—less of a risk. Holding hands, a stroll in the moonlight, a chaste kiss—that doesn’t demand any real commitment, any great depth of feeling. Everything’s calm and orderly and safe.’

      He was a fine one to talk about commitment, about depth of feeling. Desperately she fought back. ‘If that’s how I want things to be it still has nothing to do with you.’

      ‘Why do you want things to be that way?’

      Because surrendering to passion had almost destroyed her, and she had no intention of ever letting it happen again.

      When, staring blindly at a magnificent display of orange dahlias, she failed to answer Nick’s question, he took her shoulders and made her look at him. ‘Why, Raine? Why do you want things to be calm and orderly and safe? It doesn’t seem to be much of a recipe for marriage. It’s like trying to sail a three-masted schooner on a pond rather than taking it out to sea.’

      She made an attempt to pull herself away and felt a rush of relief when he let her go. ‘Some people get seasick.’

      ‘Kevin, for instance?’

      ‘It suits us both to have a calm, friendly—’

      ‘Friendly! Ye gods ... a platonic marriage.’

      On the defensive, she cried, ‘It won’t be СКАЧАТЬ