A British Bride by Agreement (20 page)

“Hello?”

“Emma, dear.”

Emma froze. “Mum.”

“You didn’t return my call.”

The muscles in Emma’s shoulders
tightened like a snake gripping its prey. “What do you want?”

“We weren’t expecting an invitation to
the wedding, Duckie, but a postcard from your honeymoon would have been nice.
Was it Paris? Monte Carlo?”

Emma gripped the cell phone, reigning in
her frustration at her mother’s manipulative tone. “Munich, if you must know.”

“Sounds
expensive.”

Tension knotted Emma’s stomach. She
glanced at her watch. The meeting started in two minutes. “I’ve got to go,
mum.”

“Off to pick out a new manor house?”

Undoing her seatbelt, Emma threw her
keys in her purse. “Did you need something?”

“I’m sorry, Emma. I would have liked to
have been invited, but that’s not why I’m calling. I need…I need one hundred
and fifty thousand pounds. Your father’s made a bad deal. A very bad
deal,
and the man who lent us the funds is threatening to
harm David if we don’t pay him back.”

David?
Emma’s insides
clenched. Her brother had long forsaken his parent’s wayward ways, but he still
lived in London and kept in contact with them. “How do I know this isn’t one of
your schemes?”

“Would you even miss it? How many
millions are the Stellers worth these days?”

Emma gripped her cell phone harder. She
hated that singsong lilt to her mother’s voice. “When do you need it?”

“By the end of
the week.”
Her mother’s voice cracked.

Emma stilled. Her mother never cried.
“Nothing has happened yet, I hope?”

“No, but it will if you don’t help us,”
her mother’s voice broke again. “I’m sorry, Emma. I wasn’t going to call you.
You’re newly married and you deserve some happiness after marrying that
dreadful fop—”

“Let me think about it.” Emma paused,
trying to sense if this was a con. “I’m going to call David.”

“Please do. He is furious with your
father, and he’s quiet distraught about the threats.”

“I will contact you later.” Emma ended
her call and laid her head back against the headrest. Could she trust her
mother? Was this just a ruse? She tried dialing David’s phone number but it
went straight to voice mail.
Very unlike him.

At the charity meeting, it was all Emma
could do to stay focused on the topics discussed. Her mind kept drifting to her
childhood.
All the times on the road when she leaned on her
brother for companionship.
The way he kept her spirits up after a
scolding from her mother. And how distraught he was when she left for the
States. Their relationship had never been the same.

After the meeting, Emma joined
Jonathan’s staff at a posh restaurant and returned back to the office.

Jonathan walked her to her car. “You
seemed kind of distracted at lunch.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“What do you think about coming with me
to Belize?”

Her heart sped up. She could just picture
them strolling hand-in-hand on the beach.
“Oh, lovely.”

“We’d only be there for three days, and
I’ll be fairly wrapped up in business, but I’m sure we could squeeze at least
one day together.”

His words were like balm to her
fretfulness. She set a smile on her lips. “I’d enjoy that very much.”

“I know last night’s discussion was way
out of line—”

“No, it’s what your parents expect. You
just surprised me.”

He took her hand. “I understand how you
feel. We need more time.”

She warmed to his words. “Perhaps, we
should plan a few date nights. We could start tonight.”

 
“As soon as things calm down at work.”
His eyes clouded.

Her shoulders sagged. His work came
first. “Sure. I see.”

“I’ve got another meeting scheduled. I’d
better go.” He glanced at his watch. “See you later.”

She paused, wanting to confide in him
about the call from her mother. But what could she tell him, her parents were
probably swindling their own daughter? Goons were after her brother? “See you—”
her voice died. She would have to endure another night alone at home.

As soon as Jonathan entered his
building, she phoned her brother again. This time he answered.

“Emma,” his voice sounded strained.

“David.”

“Thank goodness you’ve called. Has Mum
rung you?”

“Yes, it’s true then?”

“I’m afraid so, Duckie. Things really
got mucked up this time.”

By his heavy sigh, she grew suspicious.
“You were involved with the scheme?”

“They tricked me into signing a couple
of forms. I wasn’t meant to be part of the deal but somehow I am. But this is the
last time, I swear it.”

Emma rubbed her forehead. “I won’t let
you get hurt, but if I do this you’ve got to promise me you won’t get mixed up
in their business ever again.”

“Of course.
So you’ll send
it?
Today?
Tomorrow?”

Frustration clenched her jaw. She never
thought for all the tea in Yorkshire she’d get mired in her parent’s illegal
lifestyle again. She pressed her eyes shut.
Oh,
Lord, am I still the apple of
Your
eye?

“You’ve got it, don’t you? I mean being
a Steller and all.”

She frowned at the panic in his voice.
The only money she could think of was her decorating budget. “If I send it, it
goes to your bank account, not mum and dads.”

“Of course.”

Emma got his bank account information
and a routing number and hung up with shaking hands.
Of the daft
deals...

Once she got home, she paced her family
room and prayed. In the late afternoon, Adele heaved in a large package and set
it on the breakfast table. “Clive gave to this to me.
Says it
was just delivered to the front door with your name on it.”
She handed
Emma an envelope. It was from Liesel
Hoffmiser
, with
a hand written note.
Thanks for all the
help with ideas for my German English cookbook.

Emma
unwrapped
the odd shaped package and found Liesel’s new cookbook, nestled in the center
of a basket of apples. Her heart singing, Emma leaned in and smelled the crisp,
tart scent of the fruit and resisted the urge to laugh aloud.
Lord, how can I thank you enough for
Your
love?

The next morning, feeling
more sure
of her decision, she called her bank to make the
transaction. The banker assured her the money would be deposited in the English
financial institution by the next day.
All two hundred and
ninety-five thousand.
The money she was supposed to use to decorate
with. With the exchange rate from dollars to pounds, she should be just over
the one hundred and fifty thousand pounds they needed. But what would she tell
Jonathan about the money?

Her next call was to Bammerts where she
canceled the German inspired artwork and alpine furniture Franz had ordered.
There was now no way to pay for it.

***

The sun smiled down, warming Emma all
the way to her bones as the yacht skimmed over the ocean toward the Belizean
island, Ambergris
Caye
. Occasionally, the large boat
seemed to jump up with joy as it hit the waves, forcing Emma to grip the
railing. She and Jonathan had flown to Belize on the Steller jet, but Jonathan
wanted her to see the beautiful, blue-green ocean up close, so they charted a
yacht to take them to their hotel on the island.

Jonathan brought back a tropical fruit
drink for Emma and
clinked
his glass with hers.
“Here’s to our trip.”

Emma smiled. It was good to see Jonathan
relaxed. His blue eyes matched the color of the ocean. She held herself back
from kissing him. The tangy taste of fresh squeezed orange-mango juice matched
the jubilant mood filling her thoughts. She couldn’t wait to be alone with him.
As he turned and looked at the view, she bit her lower lip. An ache rose in her
throat.
If she could only tell him how much she wanted their
marriage to be more than an agreement.

“Is this amazing?” He took her hand,
pulled her closer and kissed her lips.

Her heart melted as she pressed her lips
to his. She leaned into him until their sun-heated bodies were touching.

When he held the back of her head to
pull her even close, she trembled. Was he growing to love her?

“Mr. Steller?” A deep voice drew
Jonathan away from her. The captain, in a nautical white uniform, stood near
them.

“Yes,” Jonathan answered, but he didn’t
move more than an inch. Was it so he could resume kissing her?

“Your father is on the phone.”

Jonathan looked at her with his piercing
gaze, disappointment etched into his face.

She grinned. “Hurry back.”

As Jonathan went down to the main cabin,
Emma moved to the back of the boat to get a better view of the distant island.
She had never been to a tropical country, and she couldn’t wait to stick her
toes in the warm sand.

Suddenly, the boat jumped, flinging her
onto a cushioned seating bench, and spilling her drink. Emma set her glass down
and tried to wipe off the juice running down her white capris. “What a dreadful
mess.”

She stood and gazed at the distant land
coming into view, careful to grip the railing tighter. She could just make out
palm trees. In the water rushing past, a large school of fish swam by. She
leaned over to see them. The boat lurched, flinging Emma into the sea.

***

The shock of the cold water sent Emma
flailing as she sunk into the depths. She opened her eyes underwater, frantically
gaping for any large carnivorous creatures nearby. Feeling the pressure in her
chest, she kicked off her sandals and swum upward, breaking the water just
before her lungs burst. She took in a deep gasping breath and searched the
horizon for the boat.

The yacht was continuing its trek toward
the island, the roar of the engine growing fainter by the second.

“Help!
Help!” she
yelled. Fear wrapped itself around her trembling limbs. She thrashed in the
water, weighed down by her clothing. Had Jonathan not yet noticed she was gone?
How could they leave her?

She took in a deep breath and let it out
.
Calm down, Duckie
.
Just keep swimming
.
They’ll
come back any minute.
But just to be sure, she dipped her head under the water
to check for sharks before she started swimming toward the boat. So far, all
she saw were some eerie see-through floating creatures. With her eyes trained
on the tiny blip of the boat, she began her breast stroke.
Keeping
her shaky arms and legs moving helped hold her fears at bay.

Salt water splashed in her face, and she
swallowed a mouthful. She stopped swimming to see if there were any boats
around her, but all she could see was ocean. No one knew where she was. Would
she die out here? Where was the yacht? Panic set her mind racing. She looked up
at the blue sky. “Lord, help me, please.” She continued swimming, until
something under the water bumped her leg.

***

Jonathan handed the phone back to the
first mate, picked up his drink, and headed back to Emma. He hoped to resume
their very pleasurable activity—forget the agreement. Forget hiding his
emotions. Forget everything up until now. He knew he loved Emma more than any
other woman he had ever known. Perhaps, this trip was the time to tell her.

He jogged up the steps and paced toward
the back of the boat. Emma was gone. Her glass lay on the cushioned seat. His
heart seized up. “Man overboard!”

The boat slowed and swerved to the
right. Jonathan gripped the railing as he made his way back to the captain who
was heading toward him.
“My wife.
She’s gone.”

“We’ll find her, sir.” The captain
lifted his binoculars to his eyes.

Jonathan pulled the binoculars off of
the captain. His gaze hunted the horizon. “I can’t see her.”

The yacht sped up so fast it flew over
the water like a jet ski.

The first mate stepped ahead of Jonathan
with his own smaller binoculars in place. “I see her.”

“Where?”
Jonathan’s
heart heaved in his chest as he moved to the end of the boat. He could just
make out her hair, like seaweed bobbing in the ocean.
My dear sweet Emma
.

As the boat slowed, the captain tossed a
ring out to her.

She was coughing, but managed grabbed
the life-saving device and put it on.

Jonathan grabbed the line and the three
men pulled her on board. As she cleared the edge, she fell on top of Jonathan,
gasping for breath.