Vanished Read Online Free PDF Page B

something happened. Even the memories of Charles were still exquisitely painful, and the rest was something she still couldn't talk about, even to Malcolm. She had tried to be honest with him, to tell him that there were things in her past that had caused her great pain, but he didn't want to hear it.
    “We each have a past, my dear.” He had smiled gently at her, as they dined at the Plaza. “But at twenty-four, I suspect that yours is still a little more wholesome.” He was so tolerant of her, so accepting. She could come to him with her past and her pain and her wounds and find solace there, and protection. It was that that she wanted from him, not his house, or his jewels or his money. He had been married twice before, and she knew from those who talked too much, that his generosity had been legend. But all she wanted from him was a port in the storm, a place to hide for the rest of her life, and that was what he promised. He sensed easily how frightened she was, although even he did not suspect how battered. And all he required of her was that she be willing to bear his children. Neither of his previous wives had, and at forty-nine, it was something he wanted very much, an heir for the Patterson empire. His money had been made in steel, and several generations earlier it had been far less genteel, but by the time Malcolm was born, the name was highly respected. And in his lifetime, Malcolm had made it even more so.
    She'd been stunned by his proposal at first, and for a brief moment, she even thought he was joking. They had certainly been out together many times, and he had been unspeakably generous with her, but until then, he had never even kissed her.
    “I … I don't know what to say …are you serious?” He smiled coolly at her, and took her hand in his, amused by her astonishment. She still looked like a child to him, and he gently raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.
    “Of course I'm serious, Marielle.” His eyes met hers, and in some ways he seemed more like a father. But that was part of what she liked about him, and more than that, it was what she so desperately needed. She had been back in the States by then for less than a year, and she had no one in the world, except Malcolm. “I want you to be my wife. I will take very good care of you, my dear. I promise you that. And if we're lucky enough to have children, I will be grateful to you for the remainder of my lifetime.” It was an odd offer, as she listened to him, and in some ways it almost sounded more like a business arrangement than a marriage. He wanted children from her, and she wanted and needed his protection. He hadn't told her he loved her, or looked at her adoringly, she wasn't head over heels in love with him. It was totally different from what she had had with Charles, but that was precisely what she wanted. Only the idea of having children frightened her now. She wasn't sure she wanted to take that risk again, but she didn't dare explain that to him.
    “And if there are no children?” Her eyes searched his with a worried expression, as he wondered if there was something he didn't know. He had thought he knew everything about her.
    “Then we will be friends.” He looked peaceful as he said it, and that reassured her, but she still couldn't understand why he wanted her, with so many other women who would have died to have him. And in fact, he scarcely knew her.
    “But why me? There are … so many other …more suitable …” She blushed as she said the words. She had no money, no social status anymore. Her parents had been respectable certainly, but not in his league, and they had left her without a penny. But all of that was part of what appealed to him. She was a girl with no ties, no family, no obligations. She was “his” in a way, or she would be if she married him, and he liked that. Malcolm Patterson was a man who was obsessed by possessions, his houses, his cars, his paintings, his Faberge collection, his