Alex made no comment. Sara rested her head back, the tension draining out of her, her limbs slowly sinking into relaxation. 'As usual I'm not asking where we're going.'
'You don't really care.'
Her skin reddened. 'No…I'm just grateful for a break.'
'I don't want gratitude, cara.'
An odd chill ran down her spine. As she watched the countryside flying by she never forgot for one moment that she was sitting beside AlexRossini. Her awareness of him was so intense that she couldn't hide from it. The frozen front that she had once contrived to put up in his presence was now quite impossible to maintain.
'We're almost there.' Alex swung off the road and drove down a long, tree-lined lane past a Gothic gatehouse.
'Where is "there"?' She tested a smile, found it was not so difficult as she had imagined it would be.
'Ladymead Hall. It's on the market and I have an
appointment to view it.'
'You want a house in the country?'
'A base within easy reach of London.'Alex brought the powerful car to an abrupt halt before it hit a string of potholes. There was already a Mercedes parked ahead of them.
Sara gazed out at the mellowed brick frontage of the Elizabethan manor house. Interest flickered and then slowly flamed. She climbed out. Sunlight glinted off the mullioned windows, several of which were boarded up. The ancient building had the same sad air of neglect as the overgrown grounds.
'Do you want me to wait in the car?' Sara asked abruptly across the bonnet.
'Of course not.'Alex strolled forward to greet the suavely suited estate agent, but Sara changed course and walked over to the entrance, not wishing to intrude.
'We'll explore alone.' Rejoining her, Alex planted a glossy brochure carelessly in her hand. 'You can give me the feminine viewpoint.'
The interior was better preserved than the exterior had suggested. The great hall had a massive stone fireplace and a wonderful flagstone floor. From room to room Sara wandered silently by Alex's side, her rapt face taking in the intact linenfold panelling, the elaborate if filthy plasterwork on the ceilings. The kitchen still rejoiced in massive built-in dressers. She pictured an Aga…a green one…in the fireplace. No, not there-that old black range ought to be cleaned up and preserved, she decided. The Aga would have to go at the other end.
A mouse ran over her foot; she didn't notice it. She roamed industriously through the maze of little dirty rooms which ran off the kitchen, mentally labelling them-logs, laundry, cloakroom, boiler room, junk- and frowned in intense concentration when she ran out of labels. She climbed the lavishly carved oak staircase, her fingers lingering here and there on the elaborate exuberance of the Jacobean ornamentation. Not a single word passed her lips.
Finally, at the head of the long gallery, sunlight beaming in from the windows in diamond patterns, dust motes dancing in the air, Sara uttered a dreamy sigh of enchantment and then endeavored to be rationally judgmental for Alex's benefit. 'It's a very large house.'
'Do you think so? I thought it was rather modest,' Alex admitted softly.
Sara gazed out of a tall window and another smile curved her generous mouth. 'There's a topiary garden down there. I wonder if it could be saved? I suppose there once would have been a herb garden too.'
'An enormous amount of renovation would be required.'
Sara's head spun round, dismayed green eyes flying to him. 'You surely wouldn't let that put you off?'
'I have to confess that I would prefer to buy after someone else had done the dirty work.'
She thought of his immaculate Georgian house in London, the cool, contemporary decor of the few rooms that she had glimpsed, and nodded in rueful understanding.
'But I can see this as a family house… as a home,' Alex said, his accent feathering almost seductively over the syllables.
'Yes,' she sighed, thinking, Definitely not down Alex's street.
'Marry me and make it that…"
Her lashes flew up on stunned emerald eyes, her breath tripping in her throat. She stared back at him in a daze of disbelief.
'I want a wife, and…eventually…children.'Alex selected the last word with the same utterly complete calm. 'I also want you. We both appear to want the same things at this stage in our lives. Why should we not seek them together?'
The tip of her tongue stole out to moisten her full lower lip. Her mind was a total blank, and then she met Alex's dark golden gaze and the electrifying effect scorched along every nerve-ending, igniting a sudden surge of colour in her cheeks. She trembled, shattered by the immediacy of a response over which she had absolutely no control.
He took a prowling step closer. 'We already have the passion without which no marriage of convenience could hope to prosper. You want me, bellamia… do not be ashamed to admit that.'
'I can't believe that you want to get married-'
'I'm thirty-four, Sara…and I openly confess to having enjoyed my freedom for many years. However, women ate not the only ones who get the urge to settle down with one partner.'
'I know but-'
'A practical marriage and a civilised relationship-that is what I am offering you. Where there is no strong emotion there will be no pain either,' Alex pointed out, his night-dark eyes skimming over her troubled face. 'In short, I will not hurt you, Sara.'
Alex didn't want a wife who was madly in love with him. He didn't want to become the focus of emotions that he had no intention of returning. That made a cold kind of sense to her. Women in love could be very demanding creatures. A woman in love with a man who did not love her might easily become jealous, possessive and insecure if the inequality within the relationship began to threaten her self-respect.
'Why me…for heavens' sake?'Sara murmured not quite steadily. 'You hardly know me.'
'I beg to differ. You have worked for me for a year. I know you to be cool under pressure, efficient, something of a perfectionist and an excellent organiser. You y are more likely to be early for an appointment than late. You are respected and liked by your subordinates but regarded as rather reserved because you never participate in the office gossip.'
Sara was blushing fierily. 'I do hope you'll put all that in a reference for when I go job-hunting again. I sound like a model employee.'
'You were, but you were never ambitious in the career stakes.'
Sara turned away, her lower limbs feeling as if they were stuffed with cotton wool. 'No,' she conceded wryly.
'Which also suits my purposes. I travel a great deal. A wife with a demanding career of her own would have little time to spare for home and family in my absence.'
'Home and family'? Damn him, damn him, damn him for the calculating, coolly assured character assessor that he was! Alex knew what she had so lately lost, could only be aware of the strength of the lure that he was casting out to her when she was facing a wretchedly uncertain future, bereft of everything that she had expected to be hers.
'And, if you will forgive me for making the point, I believe I have also seen you at your worst.'
Her narrow back went rigid. 'Falling-down drunk and desperate?'