the bathroom, she took a deep breath and ran a basin of cold water. Splashing her face, she forced herself to gather her scattered thoughts and concentrate.
She would not let him intimidate or control her. It was so hard—he was hard—but she had to stand up to him. She had to be strong.
Because, if she were weak, Cormac would take advantage. Every advantage. Easily.
Lizzie swallowed, resolve tightening in her middle. She could do this. She had to.
Dressed, her hair tumbled artfully about her shoulders, with a slick of make-up to help her feel better, Lizzie felt ready to face the world. To face Cormac.
She’d been shocked by his cruel statement of facts, his cold certainty that she was trapped. Shocked and even a bit hurt by the evidence of Cormac’s brutal manipulation, his indifferent admission to such calculating coldness. Yet she realised he’d been warning her. This is who I am. That, in itself, was a kindness.
A warning she wouldn’t forget.
‘Well,’ she murmured to her reflection, ‘you wanted to seize life, you wanted the adventure. Here it is.’ Smiling ruefully, she turned away.
‘So,’ she said briskly when she returned to their bedroom, ‘do you think this Stears is a threat? To us?’
Cormac glanced at her, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. ‘No one is a threat,’ he stated flatly, ‘to me.’
‘Oh, stop being so arrogant!’ Lizzie exclaimed. ‘If there’s a possibility of exposure, I need to know.’
‘There isn’t,’ he informed her, ‘as long as you continue to play your role.’
‘I will,’ she promised, an edge to her voice. ‘No more second thoughts.’
‘Good.’
If only she had some hold over him, Lizzie thought morosely as she slipped on a simple pendant, the only jewellery she had. Cormac had forgotten the little detail of jewellery, though it hardly mattered.
If she had some leverage, she would feel more in control. Less afraid. Then she might even enjoy this wretched weekend.
The trouble was, she had nothing. No power, no control. Cormac held all the cards…and he knew it.
‘So how are you going to explain your marriage to this Stears?’ she asked when they were ready to leave the room.
Cormac shrugged. ‘I’ll tell him the same story as everyone else.’ He glanced at her sharply. ‘And don’t, for the love of God, compensate by acting like some doting idiot. Stears knows I’d never marry someone like that.’
‘Who would you marry?’ Lizzie asked on impulse, and he gave her a dark look.
‘Remember,’ he warned, ‘I’m not a family man. I’m just playing one.’ Tucking her arm into his, he smiled. ‘Ready, sweetheart?’
Lizzie tried to smile. It felt like bending cardboard. ‘Ready.’
The sun was just beginning to set, turning the horizon a deep pink, the sea streaked with orange below.
It was a stunning sight and Lizzie paused in the corridor on the way to the lounge, Cormac coming to a halt next to her.
She breathed in the sea air, fresh and fragrant, a lover’s caress. She could hear the lap of the waves against the shore, the gentle clanking of two rowing boats tied to a weathered dock.
A brightly coloured bird skimmed above the water before flying into the vivid horizon.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she murmured.
‘Yes, and this time next year, five hundred more people will be able to enjoy it.’
She glanced at him, saw the hard line of his clenched jaw, the way he gazed out at the sea as if it were another world to conquer.
‘Do you think of everything in terms of your buildings?’ she asked, and he turned to stare at her.
‘Of course.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s an obsession with you.’
He gave a hard smile. ‘A calling.’ From the lounge there was a trill of feminine laughter and he took her elbow. ‘Come on, they’re waiting.’
Lizzie took a deep breath, steeled herself to begin the performance. At least she looked the part.
The sundress she wore clung to her curves before flaring out around her calves. It was simple, yet obviously expensive and well made. She even enjoyed the sensual pleasure of wearing it, something she was unaccustomed to. At least it was one thing she could enjoy this weekend.
She glanced at Cormac. He wore a suit in tan silk, the excellent cut and exquisite fabric moulding to his lithe, muscular frame. With his bronzed skin and eyes as bright as jade, he looked stunning, beautiful, his movements lithe and filled with an easy power.
As they entered the lounge, Lizzie was conscious of the conversation dying down and three couples turning to look expectantly at the new arrivals.
Jan rose and went to greet them. ‘Cormac, Elizabeth! Come and meet our other guests.’
Lizzie smiled, aware of Cormac’s hand on her elbow, his body next to hers, his strength and his heat. Everyone was looking at them as if they were a couple. As if they were in love.
Because, she reminded herself, for all intents and purposes, they were.
‘I’m Dan White. I’ve heard about your work.’A friendly looking man with a wide smile and an American accent shook Cormac’s hand and kissed Lizzie’s cheek. He introduced his wife, Wendy, an attractive brunette who was quite obviously pregnant.
Lizzie took in her bump, Dan’s protective arm around her waist, and realised how forced their own charade must seem. Standing in front of her was the real thing.
‘Good to see you, Cormac.’A tall, lithe man uncoiled himself from the sofa to smile lazily at the pair of them before offering Cormac a rather limp handshake. His dark, sharp eyes took in Lizzie. ‘Funny, I never heard that you’d married.’
‘We kept it secret,’ Cormac replied smoothly. His hand snaked around Lizzie’s waist, drew her closer to him, her breasts brushing his chest. ‘Didn’t we, darling?’
‘We did,’ Lizzie agreed, and then surprised herself by giving a low, throaty chuckle. ‘You know what Cormac’s reputation was like, obviously, so I’m sure you can understand why we wanted to keep our heads down for a bit.’
‘Indeed.’ Geoffrey looked at her appraisingly, and Lizzie forced herself to smile back with a breezy confidence she was far from feeling. ‘This is my wife, Lara.’ He gestured to the woman next to him—blonde, feline and elegant, with a hardened glamour. She smiled, although there was no warmth in her eyes.
‘Good to see you again, Cormac.’
Lizzie felt a frisson of alarm that bordered on panic as she saw Lara smile at Cormac with all too intimate a knowledge. Her grey eyes glimmered with seductive promise, and Lizzie knew these two had history.
Sexual history.
The thought both frightened her—a woman like this would sense a fake, a virgin—and, absurdly, stabbed her with jealousy.
She couldn’t be envious of Lara. She wasn’t actually Cormac’s wife. She didn’t even like him. At all. Yet the feeling was there—real, raw. Ridiculous.
‘May I fetch you a drink?’ Jan enquired, and Lizzie asked for an orange juice. Cormac had the same and she was reminded again of how he didn’t seem to drink alcohol.
The next half hour was a blur of chit-chat and Lizzie was relieved to fade into the background as the men talked about architecture. Hilda chatted cozily with Wendy about pregnancy and babies and, after a short reprieve of silence, Lizzie