Velvet Promise. Кэрол Мортимер

their only son?’

      ‘Simone was upset with the speed with which the wedding took place——’

      ‘So was I!’ She was so tense, a strong wind could have snapped her in half, her breathing ragged. ‘But little things like pregnancy have a way of showing themselves the longer you wait!’

      Jordan’s mouth thinned. ‘You got your wealthy husband, didn’t you?’

      Willow stopped breathing at the accusation. Oh yes, she had got herself a wealthy husband, the rich and elusive Russell Stewart, who had decided he wanted her as his wife. But she had been three months pregnant with his child at their hastily arranged marriage in a London register office, and neither Simone Stewart nor any of her equally snobbish friends had ever let her forget the fact.

      She drew in a controlling breath. ‘I don’t think the two of us resorting to insults is going to help ease the awkwardness of this situation,’ she told him with a calmness she didn’t feel.

      ‘I didn’t realise I was being insulting,’ Jordan rasped. ‘I thought I was just stating the facts as they happened to be.’

      This man knew what he was doing one hundred per cent of the time, facts or no facts, and he knew he had been insulting her just now. And it was true, she had married a wealthy man, and her pregnancy had been the reason for the hasty marrriage. But Jordan was wrong if he thought she had trapped Russell into that marriage; he had trapped her.

      ‘Only as you know them,’ she said quietly.

      ‘As they were,’ Jordan hit out harshly. ‘Russell was devastated when you left him and took Dani with you. The divorce almost finished him completely.’

      She was well aware of Russell’s feelings. Just as she was aware of her own. And her only emotion at the time of the divorce had been relief—and freedom. ‘I didn’t come to Jersey to discuss the past—’

      ‘Why did you come back here?’ His eyes were dark velvet.

      ‘As you’ve already pointed out, I’m a businesswoman,’ she stated calmly, ‘and this trip will combine business and Dani’s visit to her grandparents.’

      ‘I take it you will be attending this visit with her?’ he drawled.

      She gave him a sharply searching look. ‘Of course. Is there some objection to that?’

      ‘None at all,’ he returned smoothly. ‘How long do you intend staying on the island?’

      Her mouth twisted at the bluntness of the question. ‘Are you part of the same security that requires all visitors to the island to sign a police register when you book into the hotel?’ she taunted.

      ‘No.’ His harsh tone told her he was far from amused. ‘But you must have some idea how long you intend staying.’

      Willow frowned. ‘I’d planned to stay until Thursday,’ she told him somewhat warily; what did it matter to him how long she stayed? ‘I have a fashion show to finish arranging for early next month.’

      ‘I see.’ Jordan put down his empty glass on the table, his expression thoughtful.

      Willow eyed him suspiciously. He seemed uneasy about something, and she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like that something. ‘Jordan, what is it?’ she prompted nervously.

      ‘Has the island changed much since you were here last?’ he enquired lightly.

      ‘It’s as beautiful as ever,’ she dismissed tersely. ‘Now tell me what’s wrong.’ Because something definitely was!

      He raised arrogant dark brows at the demand. ‘Nothing is wrong.’ He looked out along the bay. ‘It’s rare that I actually have the time to stand still long enough to take in the beauty of St Brelade’s Bay,’ he murmured softly. ‘I forget just how lovely it is here sometimes.’

      As one of the numerous financial advisers on the island, Jordan was an extremely busy man, the island being a thriving financial centre with its enviable rate of tax and other benefits. And yet Willow wasn’t sidetracked by his observations at all, knowing he was keeping something from her.

      ‘You may as well tell me, Jordan,’ she prompted tautly. ‘If you don’t I’ll have to ask Simone,’ she added threateningly, knowing how all the men in the family were protective of the tiny woman who had somehow managed to conceal her steely heart and determined nature from them all.

      His mouth tightened at the threat, his eyes narrowed. ‘You’re out of your league with me, Willow,’ he told her softly.

      She didn’t so much as blink at his tone of menace, watching as a grudging respect for her entered his eyes. He could keep his damned respect; she just wanted some straight answers! ‘I mean it, Jordan,’ she challenged.

      ‘So do I,’ he rasped.

      A shiver of apprehension rippled down her spine, but there was no outward sign of her disturbed emotions as she continued to silently meet his gaze, willing him to talk to her.

      Jordan’s gaze was finally the one to turn away. ‘You’ve turned into a veritable tigress, haven’t you?’ he scorned.

      ‘I’ve merely become a survivor,’ she bit out.

      He shrugged. ‘It may not even happen. He’s said he was coming before and then changed his mind without warning. Simone——’

      ‘He?’ Willow echoed sharply. ‘You mean Russell, don’t you?’ Her unlacquered nails dug into the palms of her hands, her body rigid with tension. ‘Are you telling me he’s coming here?’

      Jordan gave another dismissive shrug. ‘He only said he might visit Simone and David some time this week; nothing definite has been planned.’

      ‘Did he know Dani and I were going to be here?’ she demanded to know.

      ‘I doubt it, although Simone may have mentioned it to him. For God’s sake, don’t look so stricken; you were married to him once,’ Jordan added disgustedly.

      Russell. Here. Russell, with the laughing blue eyes, overlong dark hair, and with the body of a Greek god. It had been a year since she had last seen him, the first six months of that time spent expecting to see him every time she opened the door or turned a corner, the next six months spent grateful that she hadn’t.

      It was this last year of peace and tranquillity that had given her the hope he had changed during that time.

      But maybe he hadn’t.