The Monte Carlo Proposal. Lucy Gordon
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CHAPTER THREE
Della’s Story
‘WE DON’T have much time,’ the man told me in a low, hurried voice.
I could see that we didn’t. The taxi was on its way down the slope to the harbour, and we were going to be there at any moment.
‘All I can say now,’ he said, ‘is that I need help badly, and you’re the only person who can give it to me.’
‘How?’
‘I’m being nudged—well, frog-marched—into a marriage I don’t want to make. Selina’s a banker’s daughter, and money must marry money. That sort of thing.’
‘Sure, like you’re a millionaire,’ I said sceptically.
‘I told you who I am. Jack Bullen.’
‘Yes, after I’d given you all the clues. That story will do well enough for Vanner, but not me. I suppose you work on his yacht?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Honestly, I’m grateful to you for saving me, but I wasn’t born yesterday. The silver plate’s wearing off those cufflinks, and I’ll bet you borrowed the flash clothes from your boss.’
He tore his hair, and I had to admit that the tousled look suited him.
‘I haven’t got time to argue,’ he said. ‘Look, this is the harbour, and there’s a boat ready to take us to The Hawk. Just act like you’re wildly in love with me, and you might save me from a fate worse than death.’
He was mad, but I owed him a lot, so I reckoned I’d play along. I was feeling light-headed by then, and willing to let the night end any way it would.
He paid off the cab and we headed towards a small boat that was waiting. The pilot greeted us with a wave.
‘Evening, Pete.’
‘Evening, Mr Bullen.’
I was too astounded to speak until I was settled into the boat.
‘He called you—’
‘Well, I told you,’ he said, sounding aggrieved.
I tried to see his face as we sped out to the deep water where The Hawk was moored. But the light changed so fast that I couldn’t make out much except that he was grinning like a man with a handful of aces. I knew that look. I even had a weakness for it. And already I was getting warning signals that I was determined to ignore.
One thing was clear. This man was trouble and fun in equal measures.
So let the good times begin!
‘Just say that you’ll help me,’ he said urgently.
‘How?’
‘By being my girlfriend. Here’s the story. We’ve known each other for a few months, we meet constantly at my London flat, and these last few weeks we’ve had secret assignations all over Europe. My sister keeps demanding to meet you because she doesn’t think you exist, but you do.’
He was gabbling, and I only took half of it in.
‘Assignations all over Europe—’ I said. ‘Weren’t we travelling together?’
‘No, I was on the yacht.’
‘Why didn’t you invite me on the yacht, you cheap-skate?’
‘Because Grace wouldn’t have you.’
‘Grace?’
‘My sister. My keeper. She’s organised this trip to get me married, but you are going to thwart her.’
‘So—I’m your girlfriend—?’
‘That’s right. I’m mad about you because you’re beautiful, sweet-natured, witty, and the sexiest thing in creation. Do you think you can remember that?’
‘Can you?’ I asked.
‘Yes, all of it. Especially the last bit. OK, we’re nearly there. Act the part.’
‘You want me to gaze into your eyes?’
‘I think it’ll take a bit more than that,’ he said hoarsely, and wrapped his arms tightly around me.
I ought to have seen it coming, but he moved so fast that I was taken by surprise. Suddenly I was being pressed back against the curve of his arm while his mouth covered mine in a perfect simulation of hungry passion.
He was clever. I’ll give him that. Nothing offensive. Considering that I was half naked and we’d only just met, it was a virtuous kiss: everything for show on the outside and nothing really happening—except deep inside me, where there was a whole lot happening.
I put my arms around him and helped out with the performance. At least I told myself it was just a performance. There was something about being pressed against him that made me tend to forget that.
I was dimly aware that the boat had stopped and the pilot was turning around from the front to regard us.
‘Er—sir—?’ he said, grinning.
Jack Bullen waved him away and redoubled his efforts. It seemed only polite to co-operate, so I did, writhing my fingers in his hair and pressing against him. There were lights on us now, so I gave it all I’d got.
Looking up over his shoulder, I could see men and women leaning over the rails to gape down at us. They were all wide-eyed. Two women especially—one young, one middle-aged—glared at us with undisguised fury.
He drew back his head a little and whispered, ‘Are they watching us?’
‘With their eyes on stalks,’ I murmured back.
‘Good. Let’s make it worth their while.’
He returned to the fray, but this time in a way that was even more self-consciously theatrical. He kissed my face, my neck, all the way down, then below my ears.
‘Enough?’ he asked.
‘I think you’ve made your point,’ I said with difficulty.
‘Then let’s go,’ he muttered.
As I climbed up the gangway ahead of him I was acutely conscious of my semi-naked behind waving about just in front of his eyes. I ought to have been modestly shocked, and with Vanner I would have been. But with Jack Bullen I could only remember the feel of his body pressing mine into the warm earth behind the casino. I wondered if he was enjoying the view. I had to take a deep breath against the wave of self-consciousness that washed over me, and then I found myself stumbling.
He was there at once, his hands grasping my hips, steadying me.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘Yes—yes, I’m fine,’ I gabbled, wondering if I would ever make sense again. My insides were reacting in a way that was all their own.
We reached the deck and I got a better look at our audience. The men were in dinner jackets and the women glittered with costly jewels. There was no doubt about it now. I’d fallen into a den of millionaires.
They were taking a good look at me, too. Jack put his arm about my shoulders, turned to the middle-aged woman who looked as if she’d swallowed a lemon, and said firmly, ‘Grace, this is…Cindy.’
If looks could kill she would have slaughtered us both on the spot. But mostly me.
‘Well, this is a pleasure,’ she said. ‘At last. Even if a somewhat unexpected, not to mention delayed, pleasure.’
‘You’ll have to forgive the delay,’ he said. ‘We’ve been rather wrapped up in each other.’
Grace was looking me up and down in a way that made me very conscious that my neck was