The Marriage Demand Read online

  Although officially he had been spending the summer helping his godfather, he had also, even then, been working on the business venture upon which he had eventually built his current empire.

  In those days whenever he’d seen her watching for him he would stand underneath her window and smile up at her, teasingly telling her that if she wasn’t careful one day he might scale the wall to reach her.

  Faith had prayed that he might, so deeply in love with him by then that there had scarcely been any room in her thoughts or her emotions for anyone else but him. He had been her ideal, her hero, and as the girl in her had given way to the growing woman her longing for him had increased and intensified.

  From hardly daring to look at his mouth, for fear of blushing because of her desire to feel its hard male strength against her own, she had found herself focusing boldly on it, the words she had known she must never speak pleading in silent longing inside her head.

  Kiss me.

  Well, today, ten years too late, he had kissed her, but not as she had longed for him, dreamed of him doing then, with love and tenderness, a look of bemused adoration in his eyes as he begged her for her love. Oh, no. The kiss he had given her today had been hard, angry, pulsing with the violence of his emotions and his antagonism towards her.

  So why, then, had she responded to it with a passion that she had never given to any of the other men she had dated?

  The sharp irritation of her inner voice unnerved her. She had responded to him because her memories had tricked her, that was all. She had thought…forgotten…She had believed that it was Nash as she had once imagined him to be that she was kissing. And as for those other men—well, they had just been casual dates, nothing serious, and she had kissed them more out of a sense of fair play than anything else. Kisses were all that she had wanted to share with them.

  Only with Robert had she sensed that maybe…just maybe something deeper and stronger might eventually grow to life between them. But these days Faith was very protective of her emotions, very cautious about who she allowed into her life. These days a man like Nash Connaught would have no chance whatsoever of bedazzling her into making the same dangerous mistakes she had made at fifteen.

  So far as Faith was concerned now, the most important cornerstone for a relationship was mutual trust. Without that…Without that there could be nothing—or nothing that she would want, that she would ever consider worth having, as she had good and bitter cause to know.

  In her bleakest moments after the death of Philip and her mother the only thing that had kept her going had been the knowledge that Philip had trusted her—enough to make that wonderfully unexpected provision in his will for her.

  When she had first learned that Philip had left money specially to finance her studies and her passage through university Faith had hardly been able to believe it. Prior to that she had told herself that the only way she had any hope whatsoever of qualifying as an architect would be to find herself a job and then study in her spare time, which she had known meant that her goal would be virtually impossible for her to reach.

  But it hadn’t just been the discovery that Philip had left her the money that had meant so much to her. What had mattered even more was knowing that despite everything that had happened he had, after all, believed in her. There was, in Faith’s opinion, no price that could be put on that. It was a gift beyond price; a gift so precious that even now just to think about it filled her eyes with tears and an emotion she knew someone like Nash would never in a million lifetimes be able to understand.

  Nash, to whom everything was black or white…Nash, who could condemn a person without allowing them to defend themselves…Nash, in whose eyes she was a thief and a murderer…

  Angrily Nash headed towards the house. Just for a heartbeat then, seeing Faith standing at the window, the sunlight dancing on her hair, lingering on its stunning and unique mixture of differing shades of blonde, from purest silver to warmest gold, he had been inexorably swept back in time.

  He had known right from the moment his godfather had announced that he intended to invite her to spend the summer at Hatton that she spelled trouble, but he hadn’t imagined then just how fatally accurate his prediction was going to be. The kind of trouble he had anticipated had had nothing to do with theft and…and murder.

  His mouth hardened, the expression in his eyes bleak. Like his godfather, he had been totally taken in by Faith, believing her to be a naïve young girl, never imagining…Bitterness joined the bleakness in his eyes. Hell, he had even wanted to protect her, believing then that her advances to him were totally innocent and that she’d had no idea of what she was really inviting when she’d looked at him, her face burning hot with the thoughts he could see so plainly in those limpid dark blue eyes.

  He had even derived a certain amount of painful amusement from the way she’d looked at his mouth, semi-boldly, semi-shyly, but wholly provocatively, wondering just what she would do if he actually responded to her invitation and gave in to the fierce heat of desire she was creating inside him.

  But she had been fifteen, a child, as he had sternly and furiously reminded himself more times than he cared to count during that brief summer, and no matter how much his body might have reacted, telling him in increasingly urgent and physical terms just how it viewed her, his mind had known that to give in to what he was feeling would have been dishonourable and wrong.

  She would not always be fifteen, he had told himself. One day she would be adult, and then…Then he would make her pay over and over again for every one of those naïvely tormenting looks she had given him, pay in kiss after kiss for all those kisses he had ached to steal from her but had known he must not.

  How many nights had he lain awake, tormented by the heat of his own need, virtually unable to stop himself from groaning out aloud at the thought of how she would feel lying against him? Her skin silken soft, her mouth as perfect and perfumed as Gertrude Jekyll’s warmly scented roses, her eyes as blue as the campanula that grew amongst them. God, but he had wanted her, ached for her, longed for her. Hell, he had even been stupid enough to make plans for his future that had included her…for their future…

  Initially not even to himself had he dared to acknowledge just how much he’d looked forward to seeing her waiting for him, standing at her turret window, a modern-day Rapunzel imprisoned away from him, not by her father but by her age and his own moral convictions.

  It had left a residue of bitterness to be forced to recognise that the innocence he had striven so hard to protect from his own desire had been little more than a fiction created to conceal the real Faith. But his personal bitterness was nothing to the anguish and the anger he felt on behalf of his godfather. The anguish, the anger and the guilt. If he had not been so bemused by Faith, nor so wrapped up in the excitement of beginning the property empire that had now made him such a wealthy man, he might have seen more clearly what was happening and what Faith really was.

  But there was no way he was going to fall into that same trap a second time.

  The shock of discovering that she was working for the very foundation he had chosen to benefit from his godfather’s bequest had caused him to take the first flight from New York to London, despite the fact that he had been in the middle of lengthy discussions involving the sale of leases on some of his most expensive properties. His initial intention had been to warn Robert Ferndown of just what Faith was, but then he had heard Robert eulogising about her abilities, and Faith herself, and he had been caught up in a flood of savage anger against her.

  It had been then that he had decided to punish her for the crime she had committed, to punish her not swiftly and immediately, with a clean, sharp cut, but to give her a taste of what his godfather had suffered…to keep her on a knife-edge of fear and dread, never knowing when the final blow was going to fall.

  He let himself into the house and paused as he walked past the open study door. He could still taste Faith’s kiss on his lips, still almost feel her ag
ainst his body, feel his own unwanted reaction to her. Angrily he turned on his heel. What the hell was he trying to do to himself?

  CHAPTER THREE

  FAITH flexed her fingers and moved tiredly away from her laptop. It was still far too early for her to begin her preliminary report on the house, but looking down into the garden had reminded her not just of the pretty little summer house but of the many statues in the garden as well, some of which she knew were extremely valuable.

  She would have to check with Robert to see whether or not they were to remain in the garden, and if they were how best they could be protected from damage and theft. Tomorrow she would list them all properly and contact Robert to get his advice.

  She tensed as she heard a knock on her door, knowing who it would be and hesitating warily before going to answer it.

  ‘Yes?’ she questioned Nash hardly as she saw him standing outside the door.

  He had changed his clothes since she had seen him getting out of his car and was now wearing a white tee shirt that clung to his torso in a way that suddenly made her feel far too hot. She could almost feel her face burning as her senses reacted to the maleness of him. As a girl she had adored him, longed for him, worshipped him almost, but now, as a woman, she was aware of the air of raw sexuality that clung to him—aware of it and resentful of it too.

  ‘The supper Mrs Jenson left is still in the fridge. She’ll be offended if we don’t eat it,’ Nash told her abruptly.

  The words ‘I’m not hungry’ were burning on the tip of Faith’s tongue, but before she could say them her traitorous tummy gave a very audible and very hungry gurgle.

  Unable to meet Nash’s eyes, Faith told him tersely, ‘I’ll be down shortly. I’m just finishing something.’

  Faith waited until she was sure he had gone before racing to close her bedroom door. Her hands were trembling violently. Was she imagining it or could she really scent danger in the air? Danger and something else—something that was wholly and hormone-activatingly Nash.

  She quickly sluiced her hot face in the bathroom that adjoined her bedroom, brushed her hair and reapplied the minimal amount of make-up she favoured. After what he had said to her she could scarcely believe that Nash had actually bothered to concern himself about the fact that she had not had any supper. Or perhaps he wanted to make sure she ate it where he could ensure that she didn’t make off with the cutlery and crockery, she told herself cynically.

  And yet when she walked into the kitchen and discovered that it was empty of Nash’s presence her predominant feeling was one of…of what? she asked herself sharply. Not disappointment…no way. No, she was glad he was at least giving her the privacy to eat alone, without his tormenting presence.

  But as she opened the fridge she realised she was wrong, because Nash was walking into the kitchen.

  ‘Asparagus and salmon,’ Faith murmured as she saw the food that had been left for them. Her eyes filmed with tears, forcing her to keep her head down so that Nash couldn’t see them whilst she blinked fiercely to disperse them.

  Philip’s favourites.

  Suddenly Faith knew that despite her hunger the food would taste like sawdust to her.

  Shakily she closed the fridge door.

  ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ she told Nash. ‘I’m not hungry.’

  The look of male incomprehension he gave her might have amused her under different circumstances, but when she headed for the kitchen door she saw it change to frowning anger as Nash moved lithely past her to stand between her and her exit.

  ‘I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing—’ he began ominously.

  Faith felt her self-control starting to fray. It had been a long day, beginning with her being buoyed up with excitement and pride at the knowledge that Robert had entrusted her with such an important project, then going from that to deep, numbing shock when she had first seen Nash. Then had come the trauma of reliving searingly painful memories—and that was without taking into account everything she had experienced when Nash had kissed her.

  ‘I’m not the one who’s playing games,’ she refuted fiercely, her voice trembling with the intensity of her feelings. ‘You’re the one who’s doing that, Nash. Why have you come here? Why are you staying here? That wasn’t part of the arrangement Robert made with the trustees of the estate.’

  ‘You seem to know an awful lot about his business for a relatively new employee,’ Nash countered smoothly, and Faith suspected that despite her anger he could tell that underneath it she was feeling very vulnerable. ‘But then, of course, you aren’t just his employee, are you, Faith? Why the hell do you think I’m here?’ he demanded with an abrupt change of tone. ‘Do you really think for one moment that once I learned you’d be here I would allow you to stay on your own?

  ‘This house is full of almost priceless architectural features—panelling, architraves, fireplaces, to name just a few items that would fetch thousands if they were removed and sold to some unscrupulous builder who wasn’t worried about checking where they’d come from.’

  Faith knew that what he was saying was true, but it appalled her that he should actually consider her capable of perpetrating such a crime. Before she could defend herself Nash was attacking her again, although in a very different way this time.

  ‘Are you going to tell Robert that you asked me to kiss you?’ he asked with acid softness.

  ‘What? I…I did no such thing,’ Faith denied with vehement indignation, her face pink with anger.

  ‘Liar,’ Nash taunted her. “‘Kiss me”—that’s what you said to me.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Although of course it’s typical of you that you should deny it.’

  Her face was now scarlet with mortification as she had a sickening memory of actually thinking those words. Surely she hadn’t…couldn’t have said them out aloud? But she must have done—unless Nash had read her mind, which in truth she wouldn’t entirely put past him.

  ‘The next thing you’ll be doing is trying to pretend that you didn’t enjoy it,’ Nash goaded her tauntingly.

  Now Faith really had had enough.

  ‘I didn’t,’ she denied flatly.

  ‘No? Well, there’s one very sure way to prove whether or not you’re telling the truth, isn’t there?’ Nash retaliated.

  The way he was watching her, looking at her like a hungry lion eyeing up its prey, made Faith wish with all her heart that she had never become involved in a verbal battle she knew Nash would not allow her to win.

  ‘Fortunately for me Hatton doesn’t have a torture chamber,’ she told him with angry scorn.

  ‘I don’t need a torture chamber to prove you a liar,’ Nash told her smoothly. ‘This is all it’s going to take…’

  Faith’s eyes widened in disbelief as he took hold of her, imprisoning her against his body and holding her captive there as he bent his head.

  Grittily she closed her lips tightly together, fiercely refusing to close her eyes, letting them tell him all that her lips could not as they glittered with angry contempt and female pride, daring him to do his worst.

  ‘Open your mouth.’ Nash seemed impervious to the intensity of the rage and hostility emanating from her tense body. ‘Open your mouth Faith,’ he repeated as he drew his tongue-tip oh, so lightly across the closed line of her lips.

  The sensual way in which the warm, wet tip of his tongue was stroking almost lovingly against her lips was so shockingly distracting that Faith found her thoughts releasing their hold on her anger and sliding with shaming wantonness to concentrate instead on the sensations Nash’s expertly seductive attack was having on her.

  If she closed her eyes that sensation magnified a hundredfold, and that surely must be the reason she was starting to tremble as treacherously as a young girl experiencing her first real awareness of what a kiss could be. But Nash wasn’t even kissing her yet—not really. He was just playing with her, teasing her, tormenting her. She could feel his breath against her skin, smell the unique Nash smell of him, feel…


  On a low moan of defeat Faith didn’t even know she was making, her lips started to part.

  Achingly Faith clung to Nash, her mouth moving eagerly against his, her hand sliding behind his head so that she could hold him close to her.

  Nash, Nash…Silently she breathed his name in a sharp female cry that held all the pent-up longing of her teenage desire, of the nights when she had lain awake aching for him without knowing exactly what it was she was aching for. She had known about the mechanics of sex, of course, but the actuality of it had still been a mystery to her, and she had passionately believed Nash was the only man who could ever hold the key to unlock that mystery for her.

  Had been a mystery?

  Faith shuddered and felt the sharp intake of breath Nash made, as though somehow that fierce reaction of her body had affected his.

  They were kissing as she had so often imagined they might, their mouths clinging, stroking, tasting, caressing, feasting, and the little murmurs of appreciative pleasure she could hear herself making were running through their kisses in a soft, disjointed paean of pleasure.

  Then, abruptly, shockingly, Nash was pushing her away from him, his chest rising and falling sharply as he demanded in a voice that grated against her ears, ‘How much more do I have to do to prove you a liar, Faith? Take you to bed? You’d certainly have let me.’

  Appalled, sickened, disbelieving, Faith could only stand blank-eyed and shamed as he denounced her. She could offer him no defence nor any explanation. White-faced, her eyes huge and dark with pain and humiliation, she didn’t know which of them she hated the most. Him or herself.

  Nauseously she waited for the blow to fall, for Nash to tell her that he fully intended to reveal to Robert what she had done, but sinisterly he made no move to do so.

  Faith could feel her anxiety start to increase. Her stomach was churning, her head ached and her eyes felt gritty and sore from the tears she refused to allow herself to cry.