The Spaniard's Stolen Bride. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
thieves. Pick your metaphor, tesoro. I would pick the more flattering of the two.”
“I don’t have the motivation. Flattered or not, I remain kidnapped.”
“Perhaps you will in time.” He brought her inside, closing the door behind them. The lock clicked with a delicious, satisfying finality.
“What are you going to do with me?” For the first time, she looked afraid. No, more than afraid—terrified. And two things dawned on him in that moment. That she had not looked truly frightened this entire time, which was an oddity. She seemed to have accepted her kidnapping with a remarkable aplomb. She had not fought him. In fact, she had clung to him, long after her safety had depended on it.
She had opened the window for him.
Something about that kicked masculine triumph through his veins. She did not hate him. That much was clear.
Or perhaps, she did not care for his brother. It didn’t matter to him which it was. Not in the least. The fact that it was either was good enough.
The second was that she looked out of her mind with fear at the moment, and he did not care for that. Another revelation. He could not recall much caring about the feelings of another. Not ever.
Or at least, not in quite some time.
“I already told you,” he said. “I intend to marry you.”
“Are we alone here?” She backed up against the wall, her pulse thundering at the base of her throat.
Diego frowned and walked toward her, marveling as she shrank away from him, turning herself near inside out to avoid him. He reached out, pressed his thumb against that delicate hollow there. It felt like a frightened bird against his touch, fluttering, trying to escape.
“What do you think I will do to you?”
“You have already kidnapped me. I fear that any number of indignities can’t be too far away.”
He dropped his hand quickly. “I have never once forced myself on a woman. I would hardly start with you.”
“Why do you say it like that?”
“Because you want me.”
“I want you? You kidnapped me. Do you honestly think that I’m panting after you now that you’ve stolen me out of my bedroom window?”
He lifted a brow and shrugged one shoulder. “A bedroom window you opened for me. That makes your protests slightly weak.”
“I didn’t know it was you.”
“Did you not?”
Her shoulders went rigid. “I did not.”
“It is moot. I saw the way you looked at me at your father’s house. You wanted me then. You want me now. I would take absolutely no pleasure in forcing you. I would much rather you had to lower yourself to beg for what you want. Taking it from you would make it far too easy on you.”
Her lip curled and she raised her hand, pulling it back as if she meant to strike him. He didn’t stop her. He merely stood, ready for her strike. And she of course didn’t land the blow.
It did not surprise him. Not in the least.
“A word of advice, tesoro,” he said. “If you’re going to make threats you had best be prepared to follow through. I am not a man who makes idle threats, and therefore, you do not want to be the kind of woman who makes them. Not in my presence. If you’re going to hit me, you best do it hard. If you’re going to tempt my retribution, then it had better be worth it.”
She said nothing. She simply stood there, shaking like an indignant leaf, her rage and fear barely suppressed. “Would you like to go to your room?”
“I’ll have my own room?”
He sighed heavily, feigning exasperation. “Of course you will have your own room. I already made it clear that I do not intend to force myself on you.”
“You just intend to force marriage on me.”
“Naturally.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the entire world.
“You make no sense.”
“I’m a villain. I don’t have to make sense.”
He turned away from her and they began to walk up the long staircase and down a winding corridor, leading her to the chamber he had selected expressly for her.
Truly, the entire house had been chosen for her. The entire island.
There was something classic about it. Classic, and yet wild. He had appreciated it from the moment he’d set eyes on it last week. From the moment he had decided on his course of action.
The chamber that he had selected for her, had had furnished and decorated and filled with beautiful clothes, had been chosen specifically with her in mind. He had imagined how she might react to it. Had imagined the delight she might take in the way the soft mattress molded itself around her body, in the way the soft fabrics felt against her skin.
Instead, when she saw the room, her expression was blank.
“Is it not to your liking?”
“As jail cells go, I imagine it’s quite a beautiful one.”
“There is a library,” he bit out. “Just through that door.”
“Do you think this is a movie? And that you can buy away my ire with books?”
“You told me you liked books,” he said.
“Books and freedom. Perhaps I should have added that last part.”
“Sadly, in this instance, you may have one, but not the other.”
He began to walk away, his heart thundering hard, rage he did not quite understand beginning to spike in his system.
“How do you expect that you’ll force me to marry you?” she asked. “I can’t do anything about the fact that you have me in this house, but you cannot make me say vows.”
He paused, bone-deep satisfaction rolling through him. “I already told you, tesoro. I have thought of absolutely everything.”
“What have you thought of?”
“You told me that you live for other people. For your father. Well, I know things about Michael Hart that would destroy your girlish fantasies of the man you call father. I can ruin him, Liliana. His reputation, his fortune. I can reduce it all to dust.”
“How? My father is a good man.”
“Your father is a criminal, who has made the same mistake a great many idiotic criminals make. He has built his power upon legitimacy. For my part? I am a criminal who would lose nothing if the world were to find out.”
“You could be arrested for kidnapping me.”
“Could I? Do you suppose I am not prepared to bribe officials in Spain and in the United States to make sure that is not so? You mistake me for a man with limits.”
“The man that I knew back at my father’s home... He was not a monster.”
“Yes,” Diego said, advancing toward her. “He was. The monster is always there, Liliana, and make no mistake.” He reached out, grabbing hold of her hand and forcing it down onto his chest, over his heart. “Understand this. No matter how civil I may seem, the monster is always there. When I’m smiling at you, the monster is there. Right there,” he said, pounding her hand against him now. “Do not ever forget it.”
Her eyes went wide, and for a moment he thought he might have succeeded in terrifying her. Then her face relaxed, a clear decision having taken place inside her.
“As seduction bids go,” she said, her voice wobbly, “this is not a good one.”
She