Modern Romance Collection: November 2017 Books 5 - 8. Annie WestЧитать онлайн книгу.
home, you mean, my home?’ The deep sensuous accent did untold things to her already disturbed equilibrium.
‘I have never had the luxury of calling any one place home for long. Any place I stay becomes my home—temporarily at least.’ Why had she said that? Why had she given away a part of her like that? Angrily, she turned and picked up her jacket and purse.
‘Join me for a drink—on the way home.’ His accent had deepened, become more noticeable and far too sexy.
She turned and looked at him, the challenge in his eyes unmistakable. He expected her to refuse, to run from whatever it was that had just zinged subtly between them, changing everything. Well, she’d show him he didn’t scare her, that she had the power to resist the attraction—resist him.
She smiled at him brightly. ‘That would be the perfect end to the day.’
* * *
The fire in Lydia’s eyes did something to him as he looked at her and Raul suddenly had the urge to spend an evening with her. A long evening. Whatever it was that had reared up like a stallion between them as he’d looked into her eyes now called to him, daring him to accept the challenge this woman presented, daring him to take what he wanted. She was a challenge he shouldn’t accept.
He sat opposite Lydia at a café in one of the city’s most vibrant plazas, content that here they would be noticed, their status as an engaged couple brought to the attention of Madrid’s society—and subsequently Carlos, who would inform the board, who were pushing more strongly for settlement of her father’s debt. This would buy them both time.
He ordered wine and tapas and sat back, enjoying the buzz of early evening in Madrid, but knowing he would have to bring the conversation round to the finer details for their marriage. He’d been forced to put the marriage plan into motion because after one week it was becoming clear that maybe she wasn’t able to trace his brother. Her hobby obviously wasn’t as developed as she’d led him to believe.
‘I have made the official notifications for our marriage. On Christmas Eve, you and I will marry in a civil ceremony.’ She paled but before she could offer up one of her little interruptions he continued, ‘Your father’s debts will be cleared as soon as we are married, but we must remain living as a married couple for two years.’
‘I thought we didn’t have to go to the extreme of marriage.’ Her eyes flashed with a spark of anger as she looked at him, calmly taking a sip of her cool white wine. Her long elegant fingers and vibrant red-painted nails drew his attention. She hadn’t changed since they’d first met, just evolved into the socialite, a spoiled little heiress who had nothing better to do than pamper and indulge herself. Not at all the kind of woman he usually noticed. He liked more independent women, those who didn’t read too much into a smile. So why was she getting under his skin so easily?
‘Only you can decide what happens, Lydia. You need to find my brother soon. Only then can your father’s debts be cleared and the marriage cancelled. Fail or take too long and the marriage will have to go ahead.’
‘If I decide to do something I never fail so you shouldn’t trouble yourself with all those official and legal documents just to arrange a marriage that won’t be necessary.’
The defiant and determined look in her eyes stirred something deep within him, something he’d kept concealed even from himself. Annoyed at the direction of his thoughts, he pushed it aside. Far better to dislike her than desire her.
‘The official arrangement to marry you on Christmas Eve is my insurance policy to ensure that you don’t fail.’
‘You are nothing but a blackmailer,’ she threw at him and looked out of the window across the plaza. Around them an increasing amount of people were filling up the tables, their laughter and talking infusing the evening with fun and vibrancy.
‘I think that particular title goes to your father.’ There were moments when he believed her innocence in this, believed that she knew nothing of the properties her father had bartered with. Then, when she looked at him so defiantly, so very proudly, like an heiress who had it all and knew it, he believed nothing of the sort. She certainly gave out mixed messages.
Right now she looked vulnerable and that struck a chord within him, sent questions racing through his mind. She was gambling with far more than a few properties. Like him, she was prepared to risk her freedom, risk ending up in a marriage she didn’t want. But why? She didn’t appear to have a conscience for the father, a man who had used her in his scheming ways. What was keeping her here, keeping her from walking away?
‘And yours,’ she flung at him, the spark of fire obliterating that vulnerability. ‘And I don’t intend to become their victim. I will do everything I can to find your brother, Raul, everything.’
‘That is very honourable of you.’
‘Honour doesn’t come into it. Self-preservation maybe, dislike for a man such as you, very definitely.’
‘Ouch.’ He laughed at her, admiring the hissing wildcat barely concealed beneath those words, thinking it would be exciting to tame her. ‘Where has the little kitten gone?’
‘Kitten?’ She looked at him, a frown on her beautiful face.
‘The one who wanted nothing more than me to kiss her as we talked at your desk.’
‘I did not.’ The indignation was clear in her voice as she jumped to her feet; so too was the hint of colour on her cheeks. He’d known as he’d looked at her across the desk that if he’d kissed her, if he’d followed the silent requests of her lovely full lips, he would have wanted more. He’d resisted the temptation. If he’d given in so easily he would have been living up to the reputation he’d created as part of his armour, but he’d wanted to—badly.
‘Sit down, Lydia. It will look as if we are as far from lovers as can be if you stand there glaring at me so intently.’
‘Which is exactly what we are.’ The words hissed at him, but she did at least sit down again.
‘I intend for us to be seen as, if not lovers, at least friends. We are about to enter into the happy state of marriage.’
‘Hah.’ The false laugh that slipped so easily from her lips left him in no doubt that she too had little sentiment for marriage. ‘Is there such a thing?’
‘From that I deduce your parents’ marriage was as unhappy as that of my parents.’ Why was he talking of such things with her? He never discussed his childhood, never talked to anyone about the cold and heartless home he’d grown up in, or the constant warring of his parents as his father’s indiscretions became ever more frequent and ever more public. His mother had never forgiven the double life her husband had led for over eight years of their marriage and he intended to keep his search for the child of that double life from her for as long as possible.
‘It is not me who has a half-sibling to trace.’
So the kitten’s claws were still unsheathed. Maybe he should have kissed her when he’d had the chance.
‘True. But would you really know? Can you really say that your father has not sired another child when you spent most of your childhood with your grandparents until you went to boarding school?’
‘How do you know so much about me?’ Now he had her full attention.
‘Did you really expect me to even consider marrying you without some background, something more than our dinner-party talk ten years ago? Your father has told me much.’
She looked at him shrewdly, her green eyes almost dark with suspicion. ‘And what did you discover?’
‘That maybe you are not the spoilt little rich girl you want people to believe you are.’ Now he had her attention. Her eyes blazed a furious challenge at him and who was he to refuse?
‘Which means?’
‘Which means, Lydia, I know you have no other choice.