Wedding Fever. Lee Wilkinson
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do strange things.
They belonged to a tall, broad-shouldered man with a strong-boned face and thick, slightly curly hair the silvery-gold of ripe wheat.
‘Raine Marlowe?’ His voice was low and attractive, a little husky. Smiling at her surprise, increasing that electric sex-appeal by a thousand volts, he held out his hand. ‘Nick.’
The feel of her fingers imprisoned by the lean strength of his made her tremble and sent the blood racing through her veins.
Turning to shake Ralph’s hand, he said, ‘I’d have known you anywhere. There’s no mistaking the likeness between you and my father.’
While the two men dealt with the luggage and talked Raine tried not to stare at her cousin. Although she had been tipped off balance, she didn’t want to stand gaping like some star-struck schoolgirl. But that tough, handsome face, that austere yet sensual mouth, those eyes, drew her gaze like a magnet.
‘All set?’ His question made her blink and look away hastily.
‘All set,’ she replied, and thought crossly that if she didn’t pull herself together he’d put her down as a halfwit.
His sleek silver car was waiting, and as soon as he’d stowed their baggage they were off, heading into the heart of history-steeped Boston, the seventh largest city in the United States.
Indicating one of the elegant glass skyscrapers that filled the skyline, Nick remarked, ‘That’s where I have my offices. ’
‘Impressive,’ Ralph commented. ‘Harry mentioned that as well as running his companies you’ve been very successful on your own account. How difficult was it to build an international business empire before you were thirty?’
‘Not difficult at all,’ Nick answered coolly. ‘The technique was, and is, simple but effective. I buy up ailing businesses and reorganise them, cutting away the dead wood until they begin to make healthy growth...’
Raine had chosen to sit in the back, and while the men talked she stared out at the beautiful cosmopolitan city, which, though compact, had a wonderful feeling of airiness and space.
The skyline was full of contrasts. Tall skyscrapers and imposing modern buildings alternated with old steeples and clock towers and colonial landmarks.
It was a warm September evening, and as they drove towards Beacon Hill the streets seemed full of people strolling in summer dresses and short-sleeved shirts.
Red-brick mansions and narrow, gas-lit, cobblestoned streets gave the exclusive residential area, which sloped down to the Charles River, a picturesque, turn-of-the-century look.
The house Nick and his father shared was on Mecklenburg Place, one of the most elegant and charming squares, with tall shade trees and a central park. Illuminated by the streetlamps, the lacy canopy of leaves glowed with colour.
Number eight was a handsome, well-proportioned Georgian-style town-house, its front door flanked by symmetrical sash windows with rectangular panes and black-painted window-boxes full of autumn flowers.
As the car drew up outside the door it opened, spilling yellow light down the steps, and a tall, spare man with a rugged face and a thatch of iron-grey hair appeared.
Though Raine should have been prepared, it was oddly disconcerting to see a mirror image of her father.
Harry held out his hand.
Without a word, Ralph took it and wrung it. Then the two men were embracing, the warmth of their greeting wiping out the years of estrangement and separation as if they’d never been.
Raine, her eyes suspiciously bright, felt Nick’s hand cup her elbow. They exchanged a look and a smile of understanding which brought them close mentally as well as physically.
Over the next week that feeling of closeness, of unspoken communication remained, and, instead of fading, Raine’s first impression of Nick as the most wonderful man she’d ever met grew apace.
Apart from his stunning looks, she found that he was quick and brilliant and aware, with a strong character and a razor-sharp brain.
A conversation she overheard between the brothers one day proved that as well as loving him, his adoptive father respected him.
‘No one can afford to be soft in business,’ Ralph was saying. ‘There’s too many sharks about.’
‘You’re right,’ Harry agreed, and added, ‘Nick’s far from soft. Not many try to cheat or hoodwink him. The few who do, don’t last long.’
‘But he seems to be a good employer?’
‘He won’t keep anyone who’s unnecessary or who doesn’t pull his weight, but he cares about people. I’ve known him sack a man for being lazy then out of his own pocket support that man’s family until he’s found another job...’
From the first Raine had sensed a certain ruthlessness in Nick, and, falling deeper under his spell, wanting to think well of him, she was gladdened by that glimpse of humanity.
Every day she discovered more about his complex personality, about the man as a whole, and she liked what she found.
As well as an athletic build and a striking face—redeemed from film-star handsomeness by a strong nose and jaw—he had a kind of magnetism, a natural arrogance which made most women give him a second and lingering look.
Yet he was totally lacking in vanity or any kind of conceit, and, though he was quite capable of being hard and despotic, he was also caring and generous, with no petty faults or meanness of spirit.
He had everything and more that she had ever dared hope to find in a man, and, though she did her best to hide it beneath a cheerful camaraderie, the fascination he exerted intensified until he filled her thoughts by day and her dreams by night.
But she had no idea how he felt about her.
Often, when her eyes were drawn irresistibly to his face, she found he was studying her, but his cool expression gave nothing away and it was impossible to guess what he was thinking.
He took a vacation from the office and the four of them walked the Freedom Trail, saw the US Constitution, marvelled at the shimmering reflection of Trinity Church in the soaring glass of Hancock Tower, visited the Omni Theater at the Museum of Science and ate lunch in bustling Quincy Market.
With the unspoken knowledge that time was running out, they packed as much into their days as possible, and each night—after Raine had gone to bed and Nick had retired to his study to catch up on some work—the two brothers sat talking until the early hours of the morning.
One night, leaving the older men to their endless reminiscing, Nick followed Raine up the elegant staircase.
Talking casually, they paused by her bedroom door. She was smiling at something he’d said, when suddenly he bent and kissed her gently—then not gently at all.
The universe exploded in a flash of fire that was followed by a darkness like folds of thick black velvet.
When his lips had reluctantly freed themselves, he said huskily, ‘Goodnight, Raine. Sleep well.’
Closing the door of her room behind her, she leaned weakly against the panels and knew that her life would never be the same again.
That night she dreamt of white lace and orange blossom, of rice and rose petals and stained-glass windows, of living happily ever afterwards...
Next day, not being one to wear her heart on her sleeve, she did her best to maintain her usual veneer of composure. But Raine—cool, self-contained, sensible Raine—was head over heels in love, and happiness and excitement fizzed and bubbled inside her like champagne.
When, after a morning walk on the common, the four returned to Mecklenburg Place, Mrs Espling, the housekeeper, had a message from Nick’s secretary. Some business had cropped up that demanded his attention.