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Later Saffron was to agonise over how on earth she had allowed it to happen. But for the next two days she went around in a daze, one moment determined to back out of the marriage, the next, with one arrogant or possessive comment from Alex, equally determined to go ahead with the wedding simply to teach the swine a lesson. . .
Anna didn't help Saffron's confused emotional state by suddenly turning into a model of bustling efficiency. The older woman insisted on taking Saffron shopping and to Saffron's horror she ended up with a white wedding gown. A slinky pleated skirt almost to her ankles with a shoe-string overdress in the finest chiffon, the style was slightly 1920s, but the price designer original. The head-dress was little more than a shaped swath of chiffon that bound her topknot of curls and floated down over her shoulder. She looked at her reflection and what she saw was a sophisticated bride with the eyes of a child. She had no argument against Anna's declaration that it was perfect for a summer wedding, though she hated the way it made her feel: a complete hypocrite.
Three days later at a simple civil ceremony, Alex standing tall and elegant at her side, her hand firmly clasped in his as the dignitary read the marriage service, Saffron heard Alex's deep, resonant, 'I will,' and wanted to run.
This had gone far enough. She opened her mouth to say no, but Alex, sensing her hesitation, tilted her chin with one finger. Her eyes widened in alarm at the blaze of emotion in his, and just for a second she thought she saw his eyes flash—a trace of pleading that was at once suppressed. How powerful, how proud he was, she thought, and in that instant her wildly vacillating emotions of the past few weeks vanished. Like a shutter lifting in her mind she suddenly recognised what she had feared and fought so long to deny. It hit her with the force of a nova star, shattering all her preconceived ideas of love and marriage. . .
She loved Alex. She hated what he was, but someho
w she had fallen in love with him.
'Saffron,' he murmured, his eyes burning into hers, hypnotising her into submission.
'I will,' she said, the words trembling on her lips. Alex lifted her hand and slid a plain gold band on her finger.
'You belong to me now.' And his lips met hers in a devastating kiss, stamping on her his possession in front of the world.
The penthouse and pavilion suite of a top London hotel had been reserved for the reception. Cameras flashed as they arrived. The wedding announcement three days previously in The Times had caused a stir among the world's journalists. Alex Statis, the multimillionaire, wedding an unknown. It was yet another reason why Saffron had continued with the charade of preparing for the wedding. Alex had called the papers before he had even told her, and his bullying tactics of the past few days had served to heighten her anger, while his passionate kisses and constant sensual touches had left her floundering in a sea of conflicting emotions she could not begin to decipher.
Talk and laughter echoed around the extravagantly mirrored walls of the elegant pavilion room that led out on to a wide balcony complete with fountain and waterfall and a stunning view over London. Later, in the sumptuously elegant dining-room, they ate excellent food and the champagne flowed freely. Desmond, as best man, made a humorous speech and Alex's acceptance was a masterpiece of wit.
Then Saffron was being congratulated by Anna and Aunt Katherina. She frowned thoughtfully as Maria murmured her congratulations, her green-eyed gaze resting on Anna and Katherina. Given Anna's story on the boat, it was surprising to see how well the sisters-in- law appeared to get along.
'Why the frown, darling? Tired?' Alex's husky voice whispered in her ear.
'No, no. I'm fine.'
'Pity; I want to take you to bed.' She forced herself to look up at him. He was devastatingly attractive in a pearl-grey suit, his dark eyes sparkling with laughter and something else she did not recognise. Just then Desmond made a great production of kissing the bride, although unfortunately he was hampered somewhat by the fact that Alex refused to remove his arm from around his bride's waist.
Saffron stood in the curve of her husband's arm and looked around the glittering throng. Alex was deep in conversation with Sylvia. The other woman had given Saffron one hate-filled glance and gritted congratulations before turning all her feminine charms on Alex. Saffron couldn't care less. She felt as if she was walking through a nightmare. How had she let it come to this? Her grief at Eve's death, her instant attraction to Alex and the discovery of who he really was had thrown her into an emotional minefield; torn between her attraction for Alex and her debt to her friend, her quick temper had done the rest.
A small sad smile twisted her lips as she acknowledged once more what she had been fighting for weeks. She loved Alex, and when she had made her vows it had not been because he had forced or intimidated her but because in her heart of hearts it was what she wanted. Hate and love walked a thin Une, and in the throes of what was her first real sexual experience Saffron had managed to tangle the two completely, with devastating results.
She was married to a man she loved but should hate. She glanced at the crowd of smartly dressed guests. Not one of them was hers. She had tried to contact Tom and Vera, the couple she had lived with for the past few yeans, at Anna's instigation, but they had been away on holiday.
And how Eve would have loved to see this: a top hotel and the top people, and little Saffron Martin married to the catch of the year. She was completely out of her depth and going down for the third time.
She looked up at Alex, her stomach curling in nervous anticipation of the night ahead. Yet the warmth of his large strong hand at her waist was oddly comforting; she felt safe, something she had never experienced since the death of her parents.
Later, having changed into a smart buttercup-yellow suit, with a dramatic black camisole peeking through the jacket lapels, ridiculously high-heeled black court shoes and a black bag, Saffron left with Alex to journey to Paris.
Covered in rice and confetti, she slid into the Jaguar. Alex slipped in beside her, chuckling as he brushed a handful of rice from his thick black hair.
'Enough to feed a child in the Third World,' he remarked with a rueful smile.
'I doubt you worry much about the Third World,' Saffron snapped before she realised what she had done.
Alex started the car; they were driving to Heathrow where the Statis jet was waiting. Then he shot her a curious glance. 'You don't really know me very well, do you, Saffron?' he said softly.
She glanced at him and for an instant she thought she saw something in his brown eyes—a hint of vulnerability?—that made her heart inexplicably lurch in her chest, but quickly she dismissed the notion. She knew him far too well; that was the trouble. . .
'Not to worry, darling; we're almost there, and very shortly you will know me as intimately as it's possible to know another person. No more delaying tactics. Soon you will be mine utterly and completely,' Alex drawled hardly, his glance flicking over her slim form with a possessive male sensuality that brought a blush to her cheeks.
With hindsight she realised morosely that that was another reason why she had continued with her plan of revenge. On the day he had presented her with the engagement ring, they had shared a celebratory dinner at his apartment and Alex had deliberately set out to seduce her with a sensual sophistication that had had her blushing scarlet and her head spinning. It had taken all her self-control to prevent him bedding her there and then, until he had lost his cool and said, 'For God's sake, woman, we're engaged; I've bought you the obligatory rock to prove it. I've waited long enough. I want you now, damn it!'
His cynical mention of the engagement ring had been enough to have her stiffening in anger, remembering how many poor girls had been destroyed to satisfy his greed, and she had sworn again to have her revenge.
He had taken her home in a cold fury. She had hardly slept for the next few nights, and when she had finally got to sleep her dreams had been full of a naked, erotic Alex inexplicably entwined with Eve. . .
