His Vienna Christmas Bride Page 6

  Besides, she had to think of her job should his displeasure get back to Nick. Suddenly Jasmine was tired, mentally. So many revelations today after years of holding it all in.

  With a deep breath, she started at the beginning. “My father has always wanted Ian’s family land adjoining the estate, mostly because he’s worried about developers getting their hands on it. Ian is a farmer; he wants to farm the estate. Anyway, as I told you in your office, my father needs a male heir to keep the estate after he’s gone.”

  “Or what?” Adam interrupted brusquely.

  At least he wasn’t leaving. “Or it passes to Stewart.” There was a long silence while he digested that. This was the tricky part, because now he knew how irreconcilable the differences between the brothers were. What use would she be to him?

  In front of her, Adam shifted impatiently. She’d lose him if she didn’t get on with it. “When I met Vincent, my father strenuously disapproved. His connections aside, he thought he was a money-grabbing opportunist.” Sage words as it turned out a short time later.

  “Because of his high profile in the tabloids, I came in for a lot of interest but it wasn’t until he ran off with my best friend that…” Jasmine closed her eyes to blot out the headlines. “Everything you heard tonight about Uncle Stewart and the love triangle, my mother abandoning me and going mad. Poor little Jane, everybody leaves her, they said. I was a national joke.”

  She gulped in air, reliving the horror of the paparazzi at the gate, being followed everywhere. “My father was beside himself with shame.” It had taken her years to forgive him for his cruelty in those dark days. “He said the only thing I could do to make it better was to marry Ian. The press would lose interest and we’d all be left alone. And the estate would be safe from Stewart.”

  But there must have been a bit more life in her. She couldn’t bear the thought of staying and being at the mercy of the press all her life. And she couldn’t bear the thought of waking next to a man she didn’t love every day. Jasmine had been hurt badly by the actions of her mother and lover, but something inside her wouldn’t let her give up on life and love just yet.

  “I tried to love Ian, I really did, but I just couldn’t make myself go through with a wedding. I had finished my degree but had plans to work in the history field or at least do some more study, but the publicity didn’t let up. In the end, I took the coward’s way out. I ran away.”

  Was she imagining it or had Adam’s hand, sandwiched between hers, softened and warmed? “When I left, Ian and I made a silly promise that if neither of us was married by the time we were twenty-five, we’d marry each other.” Twenty-five had seemed a lifetime away when she was twenty. Jasmine knew Ian felt more for her than she did him, but he didn’t love her, either, not the way she wanted to be loved. They were friends and he wanted the estate. “I honestly thought he’d find someone else in my absence.”

  “But he didn’t.”

  She looked up and saw that Adam’s expression wasn’t any friendlier than before.

  “It was a stupid agreement, entered into at a time when I was overemotional and just wanted to be away.” She squeezed his hand between hers, imploring him with her eyes to believe her.

  Unmoved, Adam retrieved his hand from hers. “He seems to be taking it seriously enough.”

  Jasmine swallowed, feeling him cool and close up. “I’ll talk to him tonight.”

  Adam gave her another hard look, then walked away from her toward the window. He pulled the drapery back. The snow was still falling. She clutched at the hope that he wouldn’t be able to leave because of the weather.

  “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Jane?”

  “The only lie I told was assuring you I could set up a meeting with my uncle.”

  “Oh, but you’ve been very economical with the truth.” He turned, his gaze dark as night. “These little games, playing hard to get a few weeks ago, making promises you have no way of keeping, telling me half truths—I didn’t expect it of you.”

  Jasmine’s heart fell. His attention, his admiration had surprised her from the first. It was a nice feeling, and it saddened her to lose it. “I’ve been such a disappointment to my father,” she said quietly. “I wanted to please him just once before he died.”

  Adam shrugged and turned back to the window. “I don’t particularly like the way he treats you, but the ultimate way to please him, if you want to throw your life away, is to marry Ian.” He paused. She saw him tilt his head at the reflection, knew he was watching her in it.

  “As you know,” he continued conversationally, “I’m not in the market for marriage. I certainly won’t stop you.”

  She shook her head miserably. It wouldn’t be fair, to herself or to Ian.

  Adam’s disappointment in her lanced her heart. Right from the start she’d been determined not to get involved with him. He hadn’t seemed to mind her reticence; he’d just set about seducing her over a period of weeks. She loved the attention—and the company. Even while fending him off as nicely as she could, she dreamed of him, vivid, addictive dreams that left her hot, turned on and uncomfortably aware of her loneliness. The reality, when finally she couldn’t bear to push him away, was so much better than her dreams.

  Adam might be a career womanizer but he’d always made her feel special, as if she was worth the wait. However, she had no hold on him now; he’d sampled the goods, and because of her actions, he was disappointed in her.

  The fight left her. Jasmine hung her head, the design on the carpet blurring as she studied the floor. “I’m so sorry, Adam. And grateful, for everything.” Her shoulders rose and fell helplessly. “I wish I could make it up to you.”

  Two large black shoes appeared in front of her feet. She looked up in surprise, not hearing his approach.

  His eyes were cool, his lips set in a thin line.

  “Oh, you’ll make it up to me, all right,” Adam said softly. “I want you, God help me.” His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth and continued slowly on along her bottom lip. “Don’t bother adding to your litany of lies by denying that you want me, too.”

  She took a deep, shuddering breath in, hoarding it. Excitement gripped her in hot, sharp claws.

  “And I intend to collect,” Adam continued, his finger tracing her chin, down over the edge, and kept going to the hollow in her throat.

  Jasmine’s head rolled back a little, all her senses focused on his stern, searing eyes, his wicked mouth and the finger burning a path down her front.

  His eyes never left her face, watching her struggle to breathe, to contain the soaring desire that only he could invoke. He brought his hand back to her chin, cupping it, studying her like an exhibit. His voice became businesslike. “I’ll send a car for you on Thursday, at noon. Bring your passport and pack enough for a couple of days.”

  She blinked, her mind a flurry of nerves, desire and confusion. Maybe a little relief that he still wanted her. “Where…?”

  Adam smiled grimly. “I have no idea yet.” His fingers on her chin firmed and his smile became a scowl. He bent his head so that his mouth was very close to hers. “But make no mistake, wherever it is, we will be together.” His fingers gentled and then he released her. “Don’t even think of letting me down.”

  Jasmine tried to formulate a reply but her mind was in a spin. The most galling thing to accept was the excitement dulling her senses, thickening her tongue, sending that howl of triumph through her blood. Not indignation, defiance, or even fear. And that was not a good sign.

  With one last hard look, Adam turned to go. But at the door, he swung back to her. “There is no question you have suffered in your life. No one could blame you for having abandonment issues.” He paused, his eyes pitiless. “But for God’s sake, if you don’t intend to marry him, put that poor sap out of his misery.”

  Six

  T hree days later, she found herself on a private executive jet, wondering what on earth she was doing. Where was Adam? The car had arrived at noo
n, driven her to an airstrip just outside London, and a flight attendant had bustled her up the steps and into a seat and taken her passport away for checking. Now the engines began to roar, and there was still no sign of him.

  This wasn’t her intention. After he’d left the party, Jasmine realized Adam was right. She’d been keeping Ian hanging, giving him hope. Afraid that she’d lose the only friend she had if she stripped him of that. After all, hadn’t everyone else let her down?

  Her heart-rending talk with Ian had convinced her that she was about to be humiliated again. He’d checked Adam out, said his playboy status was on a par with Vincent’s. Adam himself had told her he wasn’t in the market for a relationship.

  Jasmine recognized the danger of losing her head and her heart to Adam Thorne. This madness must be nipped in the bud before someone—she—got really hurt. So yesterday she had taken the bull by the horns and gone to see her uncle, telling only Gill what she was up to.

  The flight attendant returned with her passport and checked that her seat belt was buckled.

  “Is Mr. Thorne here yet?” Jasmine asked.

  The woman shook her head. “You are our only passenger today.”

  “But—” Jasmine’s mouth fell open. “Where are we going?”

  “Vienna,” came the reply.

  Vienna? In one second flat, she forgot her resolution and soared with excitement. She’d never visited the city before and yet felt she knew it intimately. Courtesy of her love of ballroom dancing, especially the waltz, she had dreamed for years of attending a ball in the Austrian capital. Each year, Vienna staged around three hundred balls, and tonight—New Year’s Eve—was the opening ball of the season, the Kaiserball, the greatest of them all. Jasmine nearly passed out with excitement and recalled telling Adam on one of their dates that it was a lifelong ambition to attend this particular ball.

  He’d remembered. Her throat closed up. Emotions she didn’t want to acknowledge rose up and begged to be acknowledged.

  But she’d only come to tell him about her uncle. She had fulfilled her part of the bargain and when the car had arrived at Pembleton, she’d gotten into it with no intention of going away for a dirty weekend. Determined not to be tempted, she hadn’t even packed a bag. She didn’t expect a fight about it. After all, it was what he’d wanted all along. She was only the consolation prize.

  The reception she’d gotten from Stewart Cooper had overwhelmed her. Far from being spiteful or angry at her unannounced visit, he seemed hungry for her company. Hungry for some connection to her mother. He had never loved another soul.

  Jasmine liked him. For all his money, he cut a sad and lonely figure. He told her he’d visited her mother every single week in the ten years she’d been in the psychiatric institution.

  “I would sit and hold her hand,” he said sadly, “looking at her face while she stared out of the window. She never looked at me and never spoke. I think she was so wracked by guilt—the car accident, abandoning you, hurting Nigel—that she couldn’t bear to see me. But I couldn’t bear not to see her.”

  Jasmine had wept, haunted by the thought of it. She hadn’t known her mother well and had good reason to despise her. But the thought of this kind, sad-eyed old gentleman holding her mother’s hand, week after week, year after year, when she wouldn’t look at him or speak to him…it was so terribly sad.

  Her uncle hoped to see Jasmine again. He also promised to check out Adam’s business. If his advisors were in favor, he would contact him directly.

  Jasmine sat back in her seat as the plane took off, her mind racing with excitement and confusion. Was Adam already there? Please God it was the Kaiserball she was going to. If so, how could she resist anything he asked of her?

  And what was she going to do for clothes?

  “Danke schoen.”

  Adam left the boutique having purchased the gown and arranged for it to be delivered to the hotel. He checked his watch. She would be landing in an hour. He had time to shower, dress and leave her a note. And the gown.

  He hadn’t been able to resist. He’d intended to take her shopping since she’d have no idea of the event they were attending. Luckily he knew a savvy travel agent who’d not only managed to find tickets to the coveted event but also, through a late cancellation, to get him a suite at the hotel in Vienna. Considering it was New Year’s Eve, the man deserved a medal.

  Quite by chance, he’d seen a creation in the window of a boutique that took his breath away—at least, when he imagined Jasmine Cooper’s curves poured into it. God knows she didn’t deserve it, but after all, it was for his pleasure, not hers.

  She’d made him crazy with all her heartbreaking secrets. Maybe—just maybe—he felt a tiny bit guilty about the sex-as-payment thing. Not too guilty, but once he started on the arrangements, the whole thing took on a mind of its own. He was setting the scene for sex, that’s all, and he would give her a night to remember.

  He couldn’t wait to see how she looked in her finery. His step was light, his smile ready as he entered the opulent Hotel Imperial and headed for the elevators. On impulse, he doubled back and with his rudimentary German, asked the clerk to order a horse-drawn carriage for tonight. The princess was going to the ball in style.

  Jasmine stood outside the fabled Hotel Imperial, her mouth hanging open. This was supposedly one of the most romantic hotels in the world. Her day just got better and better.

  The flight was uneventful and speedy—or that might have been her mind racing. The only hitch came as she walked uncertainly into the airport, wondering where Adam was. Wondering if there was some cruel joke afoot.

  But there was a man with a sign: Fräulein Cooper. And a short drive later, here she was, so excited she could barely contain it.

  She checked in, her heart soaring when told they were expecting her, and asked for a map and a directory of clothing stores. Her head told her to entertain the possibility that she wasn’t going to the ball—she’d find out in a few minutes—but she needed underwear, toiletries, something to wear tomorrow.

  She followed a personal butler to the suite booked in Adam’s name. He opened the door with a flourish and left her alone.

  Jasmine was too awestruck to wonder where Adam was. She shed her coat, handbag and shoes where she stood, walked out into the middle of a star-patterned parquet floor, and just stood for long minutes, taking it all in. It was too much! If she expired right this minute, she could not be happier.

  Opulence of a degree she’d never encountered transported her back to another age. Crystal chandeliers glittered from the high ceiling. Rich silk covered the walls behind gilded frames holding precious nineteenth-century oil paintings. Antique chaise lounges, bowls of flowers and fruit—she nearly cried out when she saw the perfect Biedermeier armoire. Everywhere she looked, a new treasure delighted her.

  After an age, she walked into the bedroom with some trepidation. Surely such perfection could not be improved upon. She was wrong. The huge canopied bed somehow didn’t dwarf the room, perhaps because of the impressive height of the ceilings or the massive Baroque-framed mirror opposite. Elegant casement windows flooded the room with light and looked out over the Musikverein, one of the finest concert halls in the world and home to the Vienna Philharmonic.

  By the time she got to the bathroom, Jasmine’s senses were exhausted but it boasted every conceivable luxury, she was sure. Plus a sign that Adam had been here, a damp towel on the rail and his toiletries on the double vanity. Further checks revealed clothes in the closet, a used cup in the sink and an English newspaper open on a sofa.

  She sat on a plush chaise lounge and took out her phone, assuming he would have the same number he’d used in New Zealand. But on a whim, she called Gill instead of Adam.

  “You’ll never guess where I am.”

  Gill squealed when she heard. Jasmine floated around the suite again, trying to describe it. Finally, she remembered to ask after her father.

  There was an ominous pause. “He’s not hav
ing a good day. He talked to Ian who painted a rather grim picture of Adam’s character and also said you’ve given him no hope of you two marrying someday.”

  Jasmine sighed. She knew her father would be upset to know there was no hope of her and Ian marrying. Why couldn’t he see how unreasonable it was to try to force her in this day and age?

  She snorted and looked around. What day and age was she in again?

  A knock at the door sounded. “Gill? I have to go. I think Adam’s just arrived back.” She told her stepmother she would be back in a couple of days and opened the door to find the butler holding a very large flat box.

  “Fräulein Cooper?”

  “Ja?”

  She took the box and he waved away her tip. Jasmine pulled off the ribbon and tissue paper, humming with excitement. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the color of the gown. She’d describe it as thistle, a pale purple but with a depth that surpassed lilac. It was strapless with two ruched panels in the front, so that the full overskirt raised up, revealing lilac gauze underneath. The bodice sparkled with Swarovski crystals. It was the most beautiful thing Jasmine had ever seen. She lifted it carefully, noting the hand-wrought hanger, and rushed to the bedroom mirror, holding it up against her.

  In the image, her average gray eyes were shining and looked almost indigo. One hand held the dress against her front while she hurriedly scooped her hair up with the other. Her happiness knew no bounds. Adam had bought her a gown. What else was she to think but that Cinderella would go to the ball!

  But where was her prince? She remembered her phone and regretfully hung the gown in the wardrobe. She had just walked out of the bedroom when another knock sounded. The butler with another box. Jasmine just stood there, looking at him stupidly, and the poor man had to walk past her, place the box on the table and close the door behind him.

  A white fur cape. Correction, faux fur. And not quite white, a smoky pale gray. The perfect accessory for the gown.