‘Serves you right,’ She shrugged off his arm, but couldn’t prevent a chuckle escaping her. ‘He did look a bit shocked.’ Her violet eyes sparkling with amusement clashed with Conan’s, and for a moment they were in complete accord.
‘Josie, you’re a witch!’ he said with wry amusement. ‘But if this relationship is going to work,’ he added, suddenly serious, ‘we’ve both got to at least try to be civil to each other.’
‘Yes, I know,’ she conceded. ‘But in future could you please ask me first before you arrange things?’
Surprisingly the evening turned out much better than Josie expected. Conan was a good conversationalist, the food was simple but perfectly cooked and they discussed music, books, and finally ended up having a heated debate over the best film ever made.
Josie said Casablanca and Conan insisted he liked The Graduate better.
‘You can’t be serious!’ Josie cried. ‘Bogart made a truly noble sacrifice for the woman he loved.’
‘True, but personally I would leave nobility to the fool, and take the girl and run, as in The Graduate.’
‘Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.’ She grinned, caught the predatory gleam in his eyes, and knew he was not joking.
They drove home a little after ten, and they parted on a sober note.
‘Tomorrow, at the funeral, you won’t do anything foolish,’ Conan insisted as they walked up to the door. ‘Like having hysterics or throwing yourself on the coffin.’
‘No,’ she said simply, tilting her head back to look up coldly into his shadowed face. ‘I am well aware that to the world at large Charles was simply a friend to me, and the brother of my fiancé. Why do you think I went to work today? I am as capable as you are of playing my part in this marriage of convenience. You have nothing to worry about’ On that note she opened the door, and closed it behind her in his face.
The next day, in Beeches village church, Josie only half listened to the vicar’s eulogy for Charles. The biological father of her child was being buried, and the tears on her cheeks were no more than she would have cried at any friend’s funeral. Her feelings for Charles had been fleeting at best, and she felt swamped by guilt. She glanced sideways at her companion. Conan was dressed in a long black cashmere overcoat, a black suit beneath, black tie, the brilliant white of his shirt only serving to emphasise his sombre attire. His face was equally grave, and he stared impassively ahead, not a flicker of emotion on his granite features.
She shivered, and immediately his large hand found hers and squeezed her cold fingers.
‘Not long now,’ he murmured without turning his head.
However, the shiver had not been caused by emotion for Charles, but by a sudden realisation that she had agreed to share her life and unborn child with the man at her side. A man who looked like some dark fallen angel.
Later, at the graveside, when the six soldiers from Charles’s regiment who had acted as pallbearers fired a salute, Josie nearly jumped out of her skin.
Only Conan’s arm around her shoulder prevented her stumbling. ‘Steady, Josie; you’re doing fine.’
‘No histrionics, you mean,’ she whispered angrily.
He turned her into his arms, as if comforting her, and only Josie saw the wicked glint in his dark eyes as his arms held her trapped against him. ‘Now, now, darling,’ he said, drawling the endearment so the people beside them could hear. ‘I know it’s tragic, but I’m certain Charles wouldn’t have wanted us to delay our wedding, because of his untimely death.’
‘If you say so,’ Josie agreed. She could not do much else, as Conan had so cleverly sown the seed of an early marriage among the mourners at the funeral without even trying.
‘Not as bad as you thought, hmm?’ Conan remarked as he drove the sleek BMW car the short journey to her home.
Her guilt at her own lack of deep feeling for Charles made her lash out at Conan. ‘If burying your bother can be considered not bad, I suppose so,’ she said witheringly.
‘I forgot he was the love of your life. Right?’ He shot her an angry glance as he stopped the car outside her house.
‘Right,’ she lied, and slid out of the car.
Conan did not bother getting out but simply said, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ and drove off in a squeal of tyres.
The next day was even worse. Josie sat at her desk, trying to read the document in front of her. Usually she enjoyed her job as a legal secretary, but with all that had happened in her life lately she was having trouble concentrating. It did not help at all when Conan strode into the office of Brownlow Solicitors as if he owned the place.
Josie jumped to her feet, knocking a coffee cup off the edge of her desk to the floor. ‘What are you doing here?’ she cried, her eyes skating over his long body casually dressed in blue jeans and a heavy navy blue sweater.
‘Hello, darling.’ He walked towards her and planted a brief kiss on her startled lips.
‘What’s going on?’ A deep voice intruded as Mr Brownlow, the senior partner, walked in. ‘Oh, Conan. Nice of you to call, but I hope you’re not going to make a habit of distracting my secretary.’
‘I certainly hope I am,’ Conan quipped, and the two men shared a very masculine laugh.