coming, she thought, and she said lightly:
‘Well, what is this serious promise you want me to make?'
He did not answer immediately, but absently fingered the rowlock. She noticed what beautiful hands he possessed, long-fingered, well shaped and sensitive. Then he threw back his head and looked straight at her.
'I want you to marry me, Fran.'
Had Caesar suddenly addressed her in human language, she could not have been more astonished. She stared blankly at the unrevealing features opposite to her. Gray looked as calm and unruffled as the summer sea.
‘What . . . what did you say?'
‘You heard. I need a wife, Fran. I'm thirty, already I'm past the average age for racers—racing in all its forms is a young man’s sport. It's time I settled down and gave my energies to running the business. My father has a dicky heart, he might go any time, my brother-in-law is competent, he s managing director, but Alison, my sister, would like him to sell out, given half a chance. That I must prevent at any cost, Crawfords must go on. So when I return from America I’m going to assume my responsibilities as head of the firm, but I don’t want to live with my parents. I want my own home, and to make it a home, I need a wife.’
'I'm honoured,' she murmured vaguely, feeling bewildered.
He was actually proposing and he seemed to be in earnest, but what an unromantic way to go about it, as if he were setting out the terms of a business contract. There was no trace of emotion on his face, as if, as he had said, the acquisition of a wife was merely a necessary piece of furniture to complete his home. There had been more passion in him when he had kissed her by the mere, but she had not taken that seriously, and he had never hinted that he was contemplating such an important step. His indifferent attitude piqued her, and she added tartly:
But why me? You hardly know me. Why not Lesley, or ... or Miss Lambert?’
‘Lesley is too temperamental, too young, she’s like a kid sister. Sam . . .’ He made a grimace of distaste. ‘An egotistical fashion-plate. A man wants peace and comfort in his domestic life, and though our acquaintance has been short, I’ve watched you. You’re blessedly serene and you don’t flap easily. You know how to run a house.’ He smiled faintly, ‘I consider you’re a treasure I shouldn’t allow to slip through my fingers.’
This calculated assessment of her good points caused Frances to flush angrily.
‘There’s more to marriage than housekeeping,’ she told him.
‘Of course there is.’ A glint came into his eyes, and he grinned wickedly. 'We are . . . physically compatible, which is very necessary.'
Frances’ colour deepened and she turned away her head, trailing one hand over the side of the boat in the water, recalling their brief amorous encounters. Gray possessed the power to arouse her and she seemed able to ignite him, but she was no teenager to mistake sexual attraction for love, and that he had not mentioned. He did not love her at all, but had chosen her because he considered she was suitable for the position he had to offer her, a companion housekeeper with the bonus of mutual reciprocation in bed. At least he was honest; it would have been easy for him to woo her with false expressions of sentiments which he did not feel, but he preferred to be plainly, bluntly truthful. As she did not speak, he went on:
‘From your point of view, it's quite a good proposition. You'd have a home and security, you can't want to be a home help longer than you must. You’ve no family, you told me, mine will accept you ....' he lifted his head proudly, '. . . as my choice. What about it?'
Indeed, what about it? To link her life permanently with this arrogant, overwhelming personality, who drew her strongly, even though she was slightly in awe of him. It was typical of him to suddenly decide to plunge into matrimony without any preliminary courtship—or did he consider the swimming lessons
‘Well, what is this serious promise you want me to make?'
He did not answer immediately, but absently fingered the rowlock. She noticed what beautiful hands he possessed, long-fingered, well shaped and sensitive. Then he threw back his head and looked straight at her.
'I want you to marry me, Fran.'
Had Caesar suddenly addressed her in human language, she could not have been more astonished. She stared blankly at the unrevealing features opposite to her. Gray looked as calm and unruffled as the summer sea.
‘What . . . what did you say?'
‘You heard. I need a wife, Fran. I'm thirty, already I'm past the average age for racers—racing in all its forms is a young man’s sport. It's time I settled down and gave my energies to running the business. My father has a dicky heart, he might go any time, my brother-in-law is competent, he s managing director, but Alison, my sister, would like him to sell out, given half a chance. That I must prevent at any cost, Crawfords must go on. So when I return from America I’m going to assume my responsibilities as head of the firm, but I don’t want to live with my parents. I want my own home, and to make it a home, I need a wife.’
'I'm honoured,' she murmured vaguely, feeling bewildered.
He was actually proposing and he seemed to be in earnest, but what an unromantic way to go about it, as if he were setting out the terms of a business contract. There was no trace of emotion on his face, as if, as he had said, the acquisition of a wife was merely a necessary piece of furniture to complete his home. There had been more passion in him when he had kissed her by the mere, but she had not taken that seriously, and he had never hinted that he was contemplating such an important step. His indifferent attitude piqued her, and she added tartly:
But why me? You hardly know me. Why not Lesley, or ... or Miss Lambert?’
‘Lesley is too temperamental, too young, she’s like a kid sister. Sam . . .’ He made a grimace of distaste. ‘An egotistical fashion-plate. A man wants peace and comfort in his domestic life, and though our acquaintance has been short, I’ve watched you. You’re blessedly serene and you don’t flap easily. You know how to run a house.’ He smiled faintly, ‘I consider you’re a treasure I shouldn’t allow to slip through my fingers.’
This calculated assessment of her good points caused Frances to flush angrily.
‘There’s more to marriage than housekeeping,’ she told him.
‘Of course there is.’ A glint came into his eyes, and he grinned wickedly. 'We are . . . physically compatible, which is very necessary.'
Frances’ colour deepened and she turned away her head, trailing one hand over the side of the boat in the water, recalling their brief amorous encounters. Gray possessed the power to arouse her and she seemed able to ignite him, but she was no teenager to mistake sexual attraction for love, and that he had not mentioned. He did not love her at all, but had chosen her because he considered she was suitable for the position he had to offer her, a companion housekeeper with the bonus of mutual reciprocation in bed. At least he was honest; it would have been easy for him to woo her with false expressions of sentiments which he did not feel, but he preferred to be plainly, bluntly truthful. As she did not speak, he went on:
‘From your point of view, it's quite a good proposition. You'd have a home and security, you can't want to be a home help longer than you must. You’ve no family, you told me, mine will accept you ....' he lifted his head proudly, '. . . as my choice. What about it?'
Indeed, what about it? To link her life permanently with this arrogant, overwhelming personality, who drew her strongly, even though she was slightly in awe of him. It was typical of him to suddenly decide to plunge into matrimony without any preliminary courtship—or did he consider the swimming lessons
Similar Books
