Page 9 of Bride Under Contract

Her beauty was unmanufactured—his experienced eyes could tell that at a glance—from the natural brows and lashes, right down to her soft, plump lips. Her face was untouched by needles or God knows what else, and her pale skin wore not a scrap of make-up. For a brief moment, as she woke, two utterly perfect crystals met his, her pupils constricting in the light, revealing ever more of verdant mossy green, and if eyes really were the windows to the soul he could have sworn she was smiling at him.

But then the real world impinged.

He watched confusion start to flicker in her eyes, followed by a flutter of panic. Like a kaleidoscope twisting in reverse, the prisms shattered as she took her gaze from him and glanced at her surroundings, a frown appearing, the clear green fracturing, her soft smile fading as she abruptly sat up, her top slipping down further, her hair a chaotic tumble...

‘It’s fine,’ Carter reassured her.

Grace didn’t hear him, though.

She’d woken to find a stranger standing over her.

A black-haired stranger, with a clean-shaven strong jaw, a straight Roman nose. But what drew her attention was the perfect separation of his left eyebrow—a thick white scar cut through the gorgeous jet arch and into his hairline. His eyes were as grey as sleet on a cold winter’s day, and he had a stern, grim, yet somehow plump and completely kissable mouth. His stance might be construed as forbidding, yet there was no sense of threat. The citrussy, spicy scent of his cologne and its smoky undertone was so delectable, so real, it took away from the hard bench beneath her body and the harsh lights behind him...

In truth, for a moment, when their eyes had first met, she’d welcomed him to step into her dream.

Then it had dawned on her that this was no dream! The stranger her eyes had beckoned to join her was real...

The sounds of the airport seemed muffled and lost to her senses as she first took in his features, then looked to his proffered hand and saw she must have dropped her passport.

‘Gosh!’ Grace hauled herself to sit up and glanced around. The departure lounge that had been nearly empty when she’d given in to exhaustion and closed her eyes to doze was now full. She glanced at the screen and saw that first-class passengers had already been invited to board.

‘I must have...’

He proffered the passport again and, orientated now, she reached to take it. Grace saw the glint of an expensive watch and crisp white cuffs beneath the sleeve of a dark grey suit, and even his hands were immaculate, right down to his manicured nails.

‘Goodness...’ she said, closing her hand around the passport that must have slipped from her pocket. ‘Thank you.’

He said something, but his voice was barely audible, his words just a deep, indecipherable burr.

‘Sorry?’

She asked him to repeat. His voice did not match his impact. His words were so faint that she was forced to look at his mouth to make out what was being said.

God, those lips, she thought. For even if he appeared to be forming stern words they remained full and plump.

But now, when he pointed his index finger in slight rebuke, she caught what he said.

‘You should be more careful.’

Grace was about to tell him that usually she was...boringly careful. But Mr Stern was already walking on.

Coming to fully, she thought of his wagging finger and felt both foolish for dropping her passport and also a bit cross.

To his departing back, and under her breath, she muttered a quiet, ‘Yes, sir!’

Or rather, Grace thought she had muttered—but, watching his shoulders stiffen before he abruptly turned around, she realised he’d somehow heard.

He shot her such a look that Grace swallowed hard. So hard it caused a sudden popping noise in her ears, followed by a voice over the Tannoy calling for ‘passengers requiring assistance’ to board.

The world instantly got louder.

There were people all around, talking, babies were crying, and Grace realised that the aeroplane ear she hadn’t known she had must have suddenly rectified.

And it dawned on her that very possibly she’d been shouting!

‘My ears...’ She pointed her fingers to the problem. ‘I couldn’t hear myself...’

He must think her mad, Grace decided. Soon he would walk over and tell her that next time she could take care of her passport herself...