Postcards From… Collection. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER ONE

      CLASPING THE COLD metal railings, Annalina stared down at the swirling black depths of the River Seine. She shivered violently, her heart thumping beneath the tight-fitting bodice of her evening gown, her designer shoes biting into the soft flesh of her heels. Clearly they had not been designed for a mad sprint down the bustling boulevards and cobbled back streets of Paris.

      Oh, God. Anna dragged in a shuddering lung full of cold night air. What had she just done?

      Somewhere behind her in one of Paris’s most grand hotels, a society party was in swing. A glittering, star-studded occasion attended by royalty and heads of state, the great, the good and the glamorous from the world over. It was a party being thrown in her honour. And worse, far worse, a party where a man she had only just met was about to announce that she was to be his bride.

      She let out a rasping breath, watching the cloud of condensation disperse into the night. She had no idea where she was or what she was going to do now but she did know that there was no going back. The brutal fact was she couldn’t go through with this marriage, no matter what the consequences. Right up until tonight she had genuinely believed she could do it, could commit to this union, to please her father and to save her country from financial ruin.

      Even yesterday, when she had met her intended for the first time, she had played along. Watching in a kind of dazed stupor as the ring had been slipped onto her finger, a perfunctory gesture performed by a man who had just wanted to get the deed over with, and witnessed by her father, whose steely-eyed glare had left no room for second thoughts or doubts. As King of the small country of Dorrada he was going to make sure that this union took place. That his daughter would marry King Rashid Zahani, ruler of the recently reformed Kingdom of Nabatean, if it was the last thing she ever did.

      Which frankly, right now, looked like a distinct possibility. Anna gazed down at the ring on her finger. The enormous diamond glittered back at her, mocking her with its ostentatious sparkle. Heaven only knew what it was worth—enough to pay the entire annual salaries of the palace staff, no doubt, and with money to spare. She tugged it over her cold knuckles and held it in her palm, feeling the burden of its weight settle like a stone in her heart.

      To hell with it.

      Closing her fist, she raised herself up on tiptoes, leaning as far over the railings as she could. She was going to do this. She was going to fling this hateful ring into the river. She was going to control her own destiny.

      He came from out of nowhere—an avalanche of heat, weight and muscle that landed on top of her, knocking the breath from her lungs, flattening her against the granite wall of his chest. She could see nothing except the darkness of him, feel nothing except the strength of the arms that were locked around her like corded steel. Her body went limp, her bones dissolving with shock. Only her poor heart tried to keep her alive, taking up a wild, thundering beat.

      ‘Oh, no, you don’t.’

      He growled the words over the top of her head, somewhere in the outside world that, until a couple of moments ago, she had quite taken for granted. Now she panicked she would never see it again.

      Don’t what?

      Anna forced her oxygen-starved brain to work out what he meant. Shouldn’t it be her telling this mad man what he shouldn’t be doing? Like crushing her so hard against him that she was almost asphyxiated. She tried to move inside his grip but the ring of steel tightened still further, pinning her arms to her sides. Her mouth, she suddenly registered, was pressed against flesh. She could touch him with the tip of her tongue, taste the very masculine mix of spice and sweat. She could feel the coarseness of what had to be chest hair against her lips. Forcing her mouth open, she bared her teeth, then brought them down as hard as she could. Yes! Her sharp nip connected with a small but significant ridge of his flesh. She felt him buck, then curse loudly in a foreign tongue.

      ‘Why, you little...’ Releasing her just enough to be able to see her face, her captor glared at her with ferociously piercing black eyes. ‘What the hell are you? Some sort of animal?’

      ‘Me!’ Incredulity spiked through the terror as Anna stared back at him, squinting through the dark shadows to try and work out who the hell he was, what the hell he wanted. He seemed somehow familiar but she couldn’t pull back far enough to see. ‘You call me an animal when you’ve just leapt out on me from the shadows like some sort of crazed beast!’ The jet-black eyes narrowed, glinting with all the menace of a brandished blade. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to goad him. ‘Look.’ She tried for what she hoped was a conciliatory tone, though her voice was too muffled from being squeezed half to death to be able to tell. ‘If it’s money you want, I’m afraid I don’t have any.’

      This much was true. She had fled the party without even thinking to snatch up her clutch bag.

      ‘I don’t want your money.’

      The rush of fear returned. Oh, God, what did he want, then? Terror closed her throat as she desperately tried to come up with something to distract him. Suddenly she remembered the ring that was still digging into her palm. It was worth a try. ‘I do have a ring, though—right here in my hand.’ She tried unsuccessfully to free her arm to show it to him. ‘If you let me go you can have it.’

      This produced a mocking snort from above her.

      ‘No, really, it’s worth thousands—millions, for all I know.’

      ‘I know exactly what it’s worth.’

      He did? Anna gasped with relief. So that was what this brute was after—the wretched ring. Well, he was welcome to it. Good riddance. She just wished she could get out of her engagement as easily. She was struggling to thrust it upon him when he spoke again.

      ‘I should do. I signed the cheque.’

      Anna stilled. What? This wasn’t making any sense. Who on earth was this guy? Twisting in his arms, she felt his grip loosen a fraction, enough to let her straighten her spine, tip her chin and gaze into his face. Her heart thundered at what she saw.

      Fearsomely handsome features glowered down at her, all sharp-angled planes of chiselled cheekbones, a blade-straight nose and an uncompromising jut of a granite-hewn jaw, all highlighted by the orange glow of the Victorian street lights. He exuded strength and power, and his sheer forcefulness shivered its way through Anna’s body, settling somewhere deep within her core.

      She recognised him now. She remembered having seen him out of the corner of her eye somewhere amid the flurry of guests at the party, amid the endless