Taggarts Woman. Carole Mortimer

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Taggarts Woman - Carole  Mortimer


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own styled to his ears and collar, dark brows jutting out over those beautiful eyes, his nose long and straight, his mouth a sculptured slash above a strongly square jaw. Tall and powerful, he had all the rugged grace of an athlete. And, as he claimed so derisively, none of the rough edges of his childhood had been smoothed, neither by his wealth nor his success.

      He and her father had been as different as any two men could be, her father a product of the charmingly false society he had lived in all his life, Daniel bluntly honest to the point of rudeness. Of the two she preferred the latter, having been on the receiving end of her father’s charmingly laced barbs too often not to appreciate open hostility when she encountered it.

      ‘With you as my wife?’ Daniel derided scornfully. ‘No doubt I’ll survive.’

      Her gaze didn’t falter as she met his challenge. Survive, would he? She wasn’t sure she would! For years she had been searching for the man whom she could love and one day proudly call husband, and now it seemed she was to have this cold stranger as that very important person in her life. She wasn’t naïve, she knew that not all marriages took place because the couple were in love; she had just never imagined hers would be a marriage of convenience.

      ‘Will you?’ she taunted. ‘Then maybe you could start acting a little as if it isn’t a prison sentence!’

      ‘Oh, I realise that,’ he bit out. ‘I can’t get any time off for good behaviour!’

      He might not think his barbs hurt her, the cool sophisticate, but they did! ‘I doubt that you’ll be good,’ she retorted hardily. ‘I doubt either of us will,’ she hissed with scorn.

      His eyes narrowed. ‘If you think that I’m going to meekly stand by while you flaunt an affair with Wingate, or someone like him——’

      ‘I have no intention of having an affair with Phillip or any other man once we’re married,’ she snapped, her year-long friendship with Phillip over from the moment she had agreed to become Daniel’s wife. She had no doubt that, once she was married to him, Daniel would be quite enough for any woman to cope with in her life! ‘Can you say the same?’

      His mouth twisted. ‘Don’t you think these little problems should have been sorted out before you agreed to marry me and threw this party to tell all your friends? After all, I’m due to make the announcement soon.’

      ‘Your neat avoidance of an answer tells me that you have every intention of continuing to see—Sandra, isn’t her name?’ she said, coldly dismissive.

      His expression darkened. ‘I didn’t avoid giving you an answer. And her name is Cassandra,’ he corrected drily, seeming to know that Heather had been fully aware of his mistress’s name. ‘Are you going to be a wife to me?’

      Heather swallowed hard at the bluntness of the question. ‘We’re to be married in a month——’

      ‘I’m not talking about wearing my ring and calling yourself Mrs Taggart,’ he drawled. ‘I’m talking about being my woman, sharing my bed, giving that delectable body to me——’

      ‘As you said, I think we should have discussed this at some other time.’ She was rigid with embarrassment.

      ‘Too crude for you?’ Daniel arched dark brows. ‘Perhaps I should have asked if we’re going to fully cohabit?’

      Sleep with this man, make love with him? It sounded a little like hell—and heaven! ‘Maybe we shouldn’t make the announcement until we’re both a little more sure of what we want from this relationship——’

      ‘Don’t be a fool, Heather,’ his voice was harsh. ‘We want to keep control of Air International, that’s what we want from this relationship!’

      ‘And—er—the other?’ She moistened the dryness of her lips.

      He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘We can sort that out some other time.’ He glanced at his watch, his hands long and powerful. ‘The witching-hour is upon us,’ he drawled drily.

      He hated the thought of this marriage, and she couldn’t blame him, hating it herself; but what choice did either of them have?

      She stood back and watched him as he moved away from this position for the first time during the evening, silencing the small band that played at the other end of the room, taking over the microphone as all the guests gave him their full attention.

      Her palms felt damp, her legs shaky, a sense of panic making her want to run, and keep on running. And then Daniel began to speak, and a sudden feeling of calm assailed her, completely in control again.

      ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ his voice was warm and smooth, infused with a friendliness Heather knew he was far from feeling towards the people who had mainly been friends of her father’s, ‘my fiancée, Heather Danvers.’ He held out his hand for her to join him as everyone began to clap, almost everybody in the room having already known of the reason for the party. And those that didn’t hid their surprise behind a polite show of enthusiasm.

      Heather didn’t doubt she and Daniel would provide after-dinner conversation for weeks to come. The full contents of her father’s will had been kept within the privacy of the family circle and most of the people here assumed this to be a love-match. Unlikely as that might seem between the two of them, Heather preferred that to everyone thinking they were marrying for purely mercenary reasons!

      She reached Daniel’s side in a flurry of congratulations, her hand taken firmly in his as family and friends gathered around to ply them both with questions. When was the wedding? Where were they going on their honeymoon? Where were they going to live after the wedding?

      She glanced at Daniel at the last. It was another one of those questions they had never got around to asking each other. There had been so much else to do over the last six months, and then this party to arrange when they decided the only thing they could do was marry, that the details just hadn’t been worked out. She realised now that perhaps they should have been.

      Where would they live once they were married? This house had been left as another part of her inheritance, had been her home all her life, but Daniel never seemed to be comfortable when he was here, and she couldn’t see him wanting to set up home here for any reason. If the truth were known, she would rather sell the place, too, and make a fresh start away from all the memories.

      ‘Details, details,’ her uncle Lionel dismissed laughingly. ‘I propose we drink a toast to the happy couple.’

      Heather gave him a grateful smile. Her father’s younger brother, he had never shown her anything but kindness, and she didn’t know what she would have done without him during the last six months. He had been her father’s assistant from the time Max first began the airline, had been happy to continue helping Daniel in the same way, and had also helped Heather with all the arrangements after her father’s death. In fact, over the years, she had felt closer to Uncle Lionel than to the man she called Father!

      ‘Heather and Daniel!’ He beamed at them both once everyone had a glass of champagne in their hand.

      Heather smiled awkwardly as the toast was drunk in their honour, pointedly keeping her face averted from the brief glimpse she had had of Daniel’s sardonic expression. But she had to agree with the thought she knew was going through his mind; anyone who could believe the two of them were marrying because they loved each other was either blind or a complete romantic. And she doubted many of the people here tonight were the latter, although their complete self-interest often made them the former!

      She received a jolt as she looked sceptically at their guests and found Phillip glowering at the two of them. He looked as if he hated her at that moment!

      She couldn’t exactly blame him for being angry with her, they had been seeing each other on a regular basis for almost a year, and then a month ago she had had to tell him of her decision to marry Daniel. One of Air International’s youngest executives, Phillip hadn’t taken the news well, had accused her of marrying the man with the most money. Perhaps in the circumstances


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