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Автор Mary Lyons
“Are you all right?” Antonio queried, gazing at her in some concern. “You’re looking a bit pale. I hope nothing you ate at lunch has upset you. ”
Gina shook her head. “No, I’m fine. It’s just…well, I’ve had two rather upsetting conversations this afternoon. And to tell you the truth, I don’t quite understand what’s going on. ”
“Which is—what?” he asked. But when she didn’t immediately reply, he added, “If you have a problem, Gina, then I think you’d better tell me about it. ”
“It seems our marriage is the problem,” she declared, looking him straight in the eye.
MARY LYONS was born in Toronto, Canada, moving to live permanently in England when she was six, although she still proudly maintains her Canadian citizenship. Having married and raised four children, her life nowadays is relatively peaceful—unlike her earlier years when she worked as a radio announcer, reviewed books and, for a time, lived in a turbulent area of the Middle East. She still enjoys a bit of excitement, combining romance with action, humor and suspense in her books whenever possible.
Their Convenient Marriage
Mary Lyons
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
PROLOGUE
IT WAS always the same dream…
The plaza in Seville is ringing with the loud shouts and whistles of the bystanders. She is almost deafened by the noisy, blaring trumpets and drums of the brass bands as the cavalcade of many horses and their riders, all in traditional Spanish costume, make their way slowly through the crowded throng of spectators.
She is struggling to control a high-spirited, nervous horse, perspiration running down her frightened cheeks as she clings tightly to the thin leather reins, helplessly unable to prevent her mount from either rearing up or lashing out with its hind hooves. The scowling faces and muttered oaths of the other riders are causing her face to burn with shame and humiliation. She knows it will only be minutes…seconds…before disaster strikes.
And then…he is there! His tall and handsome figure, clothed in a black matador’s costume, is racing through the milling crowd towards her. Firmly grasping hold of her horse’s reins, he turns to smile up at her as she slips out of the saddle and down into his arms, weeping with relief while clinging tightly to the strength of his hard, firm body.
Suddenly, the scene changes and they are dancing…spinning…whirling to the throbbing music of guitars. She is aware of nothing but the hypnotic beat of clapping hands and the rapid ‘click-clack’ of their heels on the floor as he swirls her about his tall, dominant figure.
Totally mesmerised by the glinting warmth in his eyes, she finds herself being dragged from the dance floor, her hand firmly clasped in his as they run laughing through the empty, deserted streets, before he hails a horse-drawn carriage. And then, within the confined darkness of the vehicle, with shafts of moonlight illuminating his high cheekbones and dark gleaming eyes, he slowly takes her into his arms and she ardently raises her lips to meet his.
