Now, as I looked at my so-called dumpy waitress of a wife, I realised she was neither. She sparkled—and it wasn’t just the dress. Her eyes glittered like topaz, her cheeks were flushed and her chest heaved. Everything about her seemed alive and shockingly vibrant. Desirable. How extraordinary. How unexpected. It made me pause, my mind reviewing everything she’d said.
‘I told you—I want a chance at a real marriage,’ she insisted. ‘A family.’
‘A family? The biological clock is ticking, I suppose?’
She folded her arms, her expression turning mutinous. ‘Something like that.’
I could give her a baby.
It was a novel thought, and admittedly not entirely unwelcome. Yes, I needed an heir...eventually. It was something I’d postponed, put off to the misty, distant future because it hadn’t felt urgent or necessary. And yet...I was thirty-six. The lifestyle I’d been living was starting to lose its appeal—at least a little. And I was already married.
Why would I want to bother with the hassle of courting some other woman when I had one right here? One I was, much to my own surprise, finding desirable?
Still, this would take some thought. Some planning. The last thing I wanted to do was rush into a lifetime commitment with someone who was still essentially a stranger.
And yet...Daisy was biddable. Acceptable. And she’d already agreed to a marriage of convenience. Why not a marriage that was convenient on slightly different terms?
‘You’re still young,’ I remarked. ‘Another year wouldn’t make much difference to your plans.’ Although for some reason the prospect my words implied irritated me.
‘And is that how long it would be?’ she countered. ‘A few months ago I read in the paper that your grandfather is celebrating his unexpected all-clear from cancer.’ Her lips twisted. ‘Something I doubt you expected.’
Damn those nosy tabloids. ‘I’m pleased he’s had such successful treatment, of course,’ I answered levelly.
He’d been declared in remission, rather than in the clear, but I wasn’t going to debate the point. The truth was he’d lasted longer than anyone had expected—myself most of all.
‘And you need to remain married for as long as he’s alive, as I recall?’
Her golden-brown eyes met mine in challenge and held me there.
‘Did you ever plan to inform me that the duration of our marriage was going to be a bit longer than you had said?’
‘I assumed you were satisfied with the arrangement,’ I stated coolly.
‘You assumed wrong.’
Her voice
was as cool as my own. When had she developed such confidence? Such poise? The woman I remembered from the diner had been beaten down by life, as well as frightened of its possibilities. I’d chosen her for exactly those reasons. And while, judging by her dress, Daisy might still need to develop some sense of style, she had plenty of courage.
I felt a flicker of admiration for her, and promptly suppressed it.
‘Why not wait another year?’ I pressed. ‘I doubt it will be longer than that. Then you won’t have to give back the money. You’re giving up a lot, Daisy, and for what? A chance at something that might not even happen?’
Hurt flashed in her eyes as her chin went up. ‘Thanks a lot.’
‘There’s no one at the moment, is there?’ I reminded her, thinking that she had better not be lying to me about that. ‘And you said you intend to stay on Amanos. Do you really think you’re going to find Mr Right there?’
‘I have better chance of doing so if I’m not married to Mr Wrong,’ she retorted. ‘Although perhaps I’ll just act as if the marriage has been annulled if you refuse to agree it.’
Fury surged through me along with something else—something hot and molten and fierce. Although I suspected her words were nothing but an empty threat, they still had the power to enrage me.
‘You will not go down that forsaken route,’ I ground out. ‘Is that clear?’
She shrugged, the movement of her slender shoulders tautening the material across her breasts.
‘There’s nothing about it in our agreement. I don’t have to be faithful, since you certainly haven’t been. I could even have a child without you.’ Her eyes flashed fire. ‘Consider this nothing more than a courtesy call.’
My fists clenched. ‘I will not be made a cuckold so you can have an illegitimate child.’ I spoke savagely, memories pounding through me in a relentless tide of rejection.