The Billionaire's Scandalous Marriage. Emma Darcy

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СКАЧАТЬ taking the utmost care with her make-up. She wasn’t beautiful. She simply worked hard at putting herself together as best she could, using all the tricks the modelling school had taught her, highlighting her good points and minimising the not so good.

      “I’m surprised your brother doesn’t have a woman in tow tonight,” Mark said, raising one eyebrow quizzically. “No romance in the air for him on New Year’s Eve?”

      “More likely he didn’t want to give the time to it,” she said with dry irony. “Dad will have his usual poker game running in the bottom saloon in between the fireworks displays. No doubt Peter will be introducing his new friend from London to it. Nothing beats the adrenaline rush of a high-rolling game.”

      “You’ve played?” Mark asked curiously.

      She shrugged. “Since I was a kid, but only at home. It was the one game our father played with us. He enjoyed teaching us the percentages.”

      Mark shook his head in bemusement. “Strange childhood you had, Charlotte.”

      “I want to make it different for our children, Mark,” she said earnestly.

      “And so we will, my love.” He curved his arm around her shoulders, giving her a comforting hug of assurance as he softly blew the same words in her ear. “So we will.”

      She leaned into him, wanting her inner turmoil soothed by the loving way he treated her, the easy physical closeness he invited so naturally. The Ramseys were not openly demonstrative in their affection though the family had always been a tightly knit unit, made so from being set apart from the ordinary stream of people by great wealth.

      Charlotte had tried to reach out across that barrier many times, only to be rebuffed by hurtful comments like, “It’s all right for you. You’re a Ramsey”—meaning she could have anything she wanted or get away with doing whatever she pleased. Which wasn’t true, but it was how she was perceived by others and nothing she said had ever changed their minds.

      Mark was the only man who had looked beyond the face value of her family and cared about the person she was inside, the needs she’d secretly nursed that all the money in the world could not fulfil. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t of her world and was curious about it, interested into probing more deeply than the surface. Whatever the reason, so much personal interest had made him very attractive, excitingly different to the many smugly arrogant heirs to fortunes who usually peopled her social circle.

      But to her intense discomfort, she found herself wishing he excited her more sexually. Until this afternoon she hadn’t realised a man could affect her as Damien Wynter had. But that was probably an initial impact thing. She shouldn’t let it worry her. Mark was a very caring lover who was always concerned about giving her pleasure.

      The powerful engines of the yacht thrummed with purpose. “Now that everyone’s on board, let’s stroll around to the front deck,” she suggested. “Set ourselves up for the best view of the fireworks.”

      They met and greeted other guests along the way, stopped to chat, had their glasses refilled with champagne, sampled some of the gourmet finger food being circulated by the waiters hired for the night. The party atmosphere lightened Charlotte’s private angst. She enjoyed Mark’s quick wit and easy manner. He was good company, always had been for her, always would be, she thought.

      It shouldn’t matter—didn’t matter—that her father and brother would always prefer the company of men like Damien Wynter. She didn’t want her life to be like her mother’s, filling in her time with charity functions while her husband wheeled and dealed in his own arena. She felt sorry for the woman Peter married, whomever she might be, doomed to always stand in second place to his business life.

      Mark wanted her to be his professional assistant, helping to organise the events he arranged. They would share everything. This coming new year should be marvellous, she thought, the best ever.

      Even the fireworks tonight had been advertised as something extra special. The harbour foreshores were crowded with people, waiting to see them. The Sea Lion was surrounded by all sorts of pleasure crafts, loaded with New Year’s Eve revellers. As nine o’clock approached—the time for the first fireworks display for families—Mark shepherded her through the melee of guests to the railing, intent on ensuring a clear view of the spectacular show.

      “There you are!”

      Her brother’s voice claimed her attention. She turned to find herself confronted by both Peter and the man whose company she definitely didn’t want. His dark eyes instantly engaged hers with a riveting intensity that stirred a determined rebellion. No way would she be sucked in by his alpha animal attraction a second time, not for a minute. He was one of them, so arrogantly confident in his natural domination, undoubtedly expecting a woman to be his possession, not a real partner.

      “Damien, you’ve met my sister, Charlotte, in passing, so to speak. This is her fiancé, Mark Freedman.”

      The introduction was completed by the man himself. “Damien Wynter.” He barely flicked a glance of acknowledgement to Mark, concentrating his sexy charisma on her as he offered his hand again. “I hope we can further our acquaintance tonight, Charlotte,” he rolled out, pouring on the charm, flashing a smile designed to dazzle.

      It raised her hackles to such a bristling height, it took every skerrick of her will-power to keep them sheathed and present a civil demeanour. She forced out her hand to take the one he’d offered, constructed a coolly polite smile, and said, “Well, Sydney is about to put on its best face for you, but I doubt you’ll get much out of me, Damien.”

      “I beg your pardon?” He frowned over the rebuff as though he’d never had the experience of being knocked back by a woman.

      She raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t that your aim in making a connection? How much you can get out of the person? Peter did tell me…”

      Her brother laughed. “Charlotte is referring to how you replied to that stupid toast Tom Benedict made to me at the London club last year, declaring I was amongst friends, when in fact, most of them were strangers to me, and the only common ground we had was wealthy fathers.”

      Damien shook his head over the reminder. “Tom Benedict doesn’t have a brain in his head.”

      “Perhaps he only meant to be kind,” Charlotte suggested. “And being kind does not necessarily rule out a brain.” She paused a moment to punctuate her point. “Quite possibly it’s simply one that works differently to yours.”

      As Mark’s did.

      Which was one of the reasons why she preferred him to Damien Wynter, despite the obvious assets of the man who thought he could just muscle in and capture her interest.

      Damien’s mind instantly registered a hit. His gaze narrowed on the brown eyes that remained flat, denying him any entry into what she was thinking. Why was he suddenly getting this flow of antagonism from Charlotte Ramsey? There’d been no trace of it in their brief meeting this afternoon. But that had been a surprise encounter. She’d had time to think about him since then—possibly as a threat she was intent on dispelling?

      “Did Peter paint me as cruel?” he asked, cutting straight to the point she seemed to be making.

      “Not at all.” She gave a tinkling laugh to remove any offence he might have taken. “He liked your honesty.”

      “But СКАЧАТЬ