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His delivery was so deadpan she couldn’t help but laugh.
‘That’s better,’ Xavier said softly.
Rosie’s laugh sounded brittle to him. It made him want to take her in his arms and reassure her, and only his desire to keep her safe from him was stopping him. ‘What has my aunt done?’ he murmured, speaking his thoughts out loud.
‘Brought us together to torment us, I think,’ Rosie observed in her usual down-to-earth way. ‘And for better or for worse, this time.’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ he agreed. Bringing her into his arms, he gave her a hug. What harm could one hug do? ‘Whatever this is or isn’t between us,’ he said, pulling his head back to stare at her, ‘I promise I’ll make it easy for you. You don’t have anything to be frightened of—in bed, or out of it. And as for the rest, you’ll have Margaret’s support all the way. Better?’ he murmured when she seemed to relax.
Worse. Far, far worse. She wanted the fantasy she’d dreamed of so much it hurt. She didn’t need Xavier’s money, or his name, but she did need this warm, caring man, the man who lay deep beneath the armour Xavier had built so successfully around his heart.
* * *
Seducing Rosie would be all too easy. She had a touching eagerness to experience everything life had to offer. She had shocked him disappearing at midnight without warning, but her unpredictability was one of the qualities he liked best about her. Yes, it annoyed the hell out of him, but doormats bored him, and gold-diggers were ten a penny. He doubted anyone could cage this wild bird. The thought that anyone might try to do so enraged him. No one would take away Rosie Clifton’s freedom, if he had anything to say about it, not even him.
‘You look grim,’ she said, pulling back to stare at him.
‘Do I?’ He shrugged. He should be smiling at the thought that Rosie had proved he had some small shred of humanity left. She had made him care what happened to her, when he’d thought he was incapable of feeling, and she’d made him care for the island all over again.
‘I hope you’re not looking grim because you’re thinking about our wedding,’ she said.
He had been thinking about their wedding, but not in the way Rosie imagined. They would marry, and he hoped an heir would follow, but instead of him breaking it off then, he would set her free as she deserved, and with her bright face right in front of him he was suddenly dreading the thought of doing that. ‘I’ve got a plane to catch,’ he said, reluctantly easing away from her. ‘So I’ll see you at the altar—’
‘With a modest ring, I hope,’ she teased.
They shared a smile. His was cynical, hers was guileless. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he promised.
‘Safe journey,’ she called out as he made for the door.
He turned around. She was still smiling, still employing the eternal optimism that had kept her upbeat throughout her years in the orphanage. He hoped it would continue to help her now.
* * *
Rosie’s wedding day dawned as every bride hoped it would, with sunshine and birdsong outside the window.
But every bride hoped for company to share her happy day, and she didn’t expect to face the start of that day alone in her hotel room.
She’d always been alone, and she’d always got through, Rosie reassured herself. Margaret had been with her for most of the week and Margaret couldn’t be expected to be around 24/7. She would have her own preparations to make. Margaret was a guest of honour at the ceremony; the ceremony the press was calling the wedding of the year.
This wasn’t a marriage in the real sense, Rosie told herself firmly as she jumped out of bed, so she had nothing to worry about.
Their wedding night would be real enough.
Yes, well, she’d handle that too. She didn’t have time to think about it now. She had other things to do—a shower to take, and her courage to buckle on, along with the blue garter the designer had insisted she must wear high up on her thigh under her dress...where only Rosie’s husband would see it.
What did the woman imagine? That theirs was a love match?
Why wouldn’t she, when the whole world thought that was exactly what it was?
Pausing on her way to take a shower, she trailed her fingertips reverently across the exquisite Swiss lace skirt of her gown. Her wedding dress was everything a fantasy wedding dress should be. An entire workroom had spent the limited time available working through the night to make sure it was ready in time, and Rosie couldn’t have loved it more. She had promised herself that at least for the few short hours of the ceremony, she would believe in the dream. It wouldn’t hurt anyone if she did so.
Her heart beg
an to flutter as she thought about Xavier, and what he would be doing now. She was missing him. She hadn’t seen him since he went away, and, however much of a charade this was, she was certain they were drawing closer. If she teased him he took it well, instead of standing on his dignity. She only wished they could both unwind the past and start over, with no hang-ups standing in their way, but she suspected no one entered a marriage completely clean in that sense.
She turned at a knock on the door. Breakfast. She raced to open the door to her suite, not wanting to keep the server waiting.
‘Margaret!’ She’d never been more relieved to see anyone in her life.
