Taming the Rebel Tycoon: Wife by Approval / Dating the Rebel Tycoon / The Playboy Takes a Wife

His kiss seemed gentle and caring and she found herself hoping against hope that he shared at least some of her feelings.

After a little while she became aware of a quiet but persistent thought tugging at the sleeve of her consciousness, trying to gain her attention. Still euphoric, unwilling to think, she mentally waved it away. But refusing to be banished, it became even more insistent.

It was another moment or two before she identified it, then surprise made her blurt out what she was now certain of. ‘You didn’t make love to me…Last night, I mean…’

‘No,’ he agreed.

‘But I thought…Though I couldn’t remember, I was sure we’d slept together…’

‘So we had. That is to say, we slept in the same bed. That’s all.’

‘I don’t understand why…’

She felt the movement as he glanced down at her. ‘You went out like a light so, apart from taking off your clothes, I never laid a finger on you. I cursed myself for getting you in that state, but by then it was too late.’

‘But you said we’d…’

Realising he’d never actually said anything, she changed it to, ‘You deliberately made me think we’d slept together.’

‘When you jumped to that conclusion, I just didn’t correct you.’

And she could guess why not. With her believing they were already lovers, tonight’s seduction had been so much easier. Had she known the truth, would she have behaved differently?

But it was too late to ask herself that.

‘Mad with me?’ he queried.

She ought to be.

But she wasn’t really.

How could she be mad with a man who had given her so much, and with such tenderness?

‘No,’ she whispered.

His arm tightened round her.

Beneath her cheek she could feel the strong, steady beat of his heart, hear the quiet evenness of his breathing, smell the scent of his skin, with its heady combination of fresh perspiration and shower gel.

It was so sweet, so intimate, that she gave thanks as she lay blissfully savouring the warmth and happiness, the feeling of belonging, of having finally come home.

She was still marvelling at the peace and beauty of it when sleep crept up and wrapped her in a soft, dark blanket.

Next morning she awoke to full remembrance and a singing happiness. A smile on her lips, she turned her head to look at Richard, but she was alone in the big four-poster.

Sunshine was streaming in through the leaded glass of the windows and a glance at her watch showed it was almost a quarter to nine.

Some time during the night he had wakened her with a kiss and made long, delectable love to her once more and, though a little tender in parts, her body felt as sleek and well-satisfied as a pampered pedigree cat.

She stretched luxuriously, while her mind drifted on a cloud of euphoria. She had found her one and only love. He filled her heart and banished her loneliness, satisfied a gnawing hunger that had never been fed.

He was so right for her. He had strength and humour, warmth and understanding, a willingness to reach out, to meet her on her own ground.

Yet, like herself, he had a certain reserve, so there would always be thoughts and dreams to surprise. An element of spice to keep their relationship fresh.

Their relationship…

Like a train hitting the buffers, her rhapsodizing came to an abrupt halt. Could she call what they had a relationship ?

Why not? she thought boldly. Though it was still in its early stages, it was a relationship. Hadn’t he made it clear that his feelings and his intentions weren’t merely casual?

It was a start and if, in spite of their vastly different backgrounds and lifestyles, he could come to care for her, she could ask no more of life.

And if he couldn’t?

She pushed the intrusive thought away.

At least she knew what it was like to really be in love, and it was a marvellous feeling! No wonder people said that love made the world go round.

All at once she wanted to say it out loud, to shout it from the rooftops.

Bubbling over with excitement, she decided that as soon as she had showered and dressed she would ring her flatmate.

Normally, she wouldn’t have made contact until Jules had gone back to Paris, but her news was so exciting she just couldn’t wait to tell somebody.

Ruth, who knew nothing of the weekend’s events and still thought Tina was staying in London with one of their friends, would be surprised, to say the least. But when she had heard everything, she would understand and be pleased…

Climbing out of the high bed, Tina cautiously tested her ankle. Finding it supported her without pain, she gathered up her discarded nightdress and, her bare feet squeaking a little on the polished oak floorboards, made her way back to the guest room.

Fresh and glowing from the shower, she brushed her blonde hair and, leaving it loose around her shoulders, pulled on clean underwear, a pair of cream trousers and a silky shirt the colour of burnt toffee.

Her ankle had returned to virtually normal, so she left the strapping off and donned flat slip-ons, all the time anticipating Ruth’s reaction to her wonderful news.

She had located her bag and started to fish around for her phone before she recalled that Richard had borrowed it the previous evening and must have absent-mindedly pocketed it.

Well, she would have to find him and ask him for it. Unless…On an impulse she returned to the master bedroom, where the suit he had worn had been hung over a chair. Locating his jacket, after a momentary hesitation, she felt in the nearest pocket.

There was no sign of her phone, but her fingers closed around his pencil torch which lit as she inadvertently pressed the button.

So the bulb hadn’t gone after all. If Richard had paused long enough to double-check, it would have saved that long, slow, nightmare journey through the Stygian passageway.

The second pocket yielded nothing more than the handkerchief he had wiped her cheek with, and only then did she recall that she had been sitting on his jacket. Which meant he must have slipped the phone into his trousers pocket.

Feeling uncomfortable, but committed now, she gritted her teeth and searched both pockets, but once again she drew a blank.

Oh, well, she would just have to go down and ask him what he’d done with it.

Her step light, a smile on her lips as she imagined how he’d lift her face to his and kiss her, she left the suite and descended the elegant oak staircase.

As she paused to stroke the lion’s head on the newel post, Hannah appeared in the hall, neat and Sundayish in a sober black hat, a prayer book in her gloved hand.

‘Good morning, Miss Dunbar. I hope you slept well?’

Feeling her cheeks grow warm at the innocent enquiry, Tina answered, ‘Very well, thank you, Hannah. You’re off to church?’

Her manner prim, Hannah said, ‘It’s customary for all the staff to attend the Sunday morning service at our own chapel.’

Flustered by her previous lack of thought, Tina hastened to say, ‘Of course. It must be a great blessing to have a resident priest.’

‘Indeed it is,’ Hannah told her. Adding proudly, ‘The Reverend Peter has been in the family’s service and lived in the rooms adjoining the chapel ever since he was ordained nearly fifty years ago.’

‘What a wonderful record.’

‘Apart from the mistress’s second marriage, which took place in a register office, he’s officiated at every wedding, christening and funeral of both the family and the staff.

‘It’s his dearest wish, before he’s called to his maker, to officiate at the master’s wedding.

‘When Miss O’Connell’s family first moved into Farrington Hall and the young couple became friendly, we began to wonder if she might be the one. But after the mistress’s death, Mr Richard no longer came home and Miss O’Connell stopped calling…’

Beaming, as if Tina should be pleased too, she went on, ‘But now—though Mr Richard has made it clear that it’s still un official—we’re delighted by the news that at long last the Reverend Peter is going to have his wish…’

So Richard was going to be married.

‘Well, I must get along. The master was in the study earlier, if you’re looking for him…’ Her back ramrod straight, Hannah hurried away.

CHAPTER SEVEN

COLD and sick and shattered, Tina stood stricken, unable to move, knowing how Mag must have felt.

In her ears was his voice saying, ‘Who said anything about a one-night stand or casual sex? Neither the way I feel about you, nor my intentions are in any way casual’…And, fool that she was, she had believed his lies.

Unless he was planning on having an ongoing affair after he was married?

Well, if he was, she thought bitterly, he could count her out.

When she had recovered enough to move, her first impulse was to run and hide. To leave his home and never see him again. But she had no way of leaving unless she could find a phone and call for a taxi.

There must be phones at the castle but, apart from the one in the library-cum-study that Richard had used the previous night, she hadn’t noticed any. Perhaps, like the television, they were hidden away.

But all that was beside the point; she needed her own mobile. So somehow she had to face him, to tell him she was leaving. But if she wanted to go with some shred of pride intact, she had, somehow, to hide just how shattered she felt.

On legs that trembled so much they would scarcely carry her, she made her way across the hall to the study. As she was passing the living-room door, which was a little ajar, she heard Richard’s voice and, pausing, once again found herself eavesdropping on a phone conversation.

‘As the time factor is of overriding importance,’ he was saying, ‘there isn’t a moment to lose—’

Only it wasn’t a phone conversation, she realised a second later, as a woman’s voice broke in, ‘But surely it’s already too late. It just can’t be done in the time.’

‘It can be done,’ Richard insisted quietly. ‘In fact the arrangements are already in place.’

Feeling like death, lacking the will to walk away, Tina listened dully to the argument.

‘There must be some other way,’ the woman insisted shrilly. ‘You’re not short of money; couldn’t you—?’

‘That was my first thought, but money isn’t necessarily the answer. I don’t know for sure what I’m up against, and by the time I do know it’ll be too late.’

‘But Richard—’ It was a wail.

‘It’s no use, Helen, I simply can’t afford to chance doing it any other way…’

Helen…Helen O’Connell. So it was his future wife he was talking to.

‘It’s only too easy to be held to ransom and drained dry. But once I’m in a position of strength, my money can be used to greater effect.’

‘But it’s so…so drastic.’

‘I’ve given it a lot of thought and I’m satisfied that it’s by far the safest option.’

‘What do you suppose will happen when—?’

‘There’s bound to be a backlash of course,’ he broke in a trifle curtly, ‘but I’ll deal with that as and when it happens.’

‘Well, I think you’re making a dreadful mistake.’ Then, with a flare of hope, ‘You could always fight it through the courts.’

‘I considered that, of course, but it might take years and, as things stand at present, there’s no guarantee I’d win.’

‘But have you considered the ethics of it?’

‘You mean two wrongs don’t make a right?’ he suggested a shade grimly. ‘Oh, yes, I’ve considered all that. But I’ll do whatever it takes. As far as I’m concerned, the end justifies the means. I’ve far too much to lose to think of playing Sir Galahad…’

Standing, shivering and miserable, outside the living-room door, Tina was chilled anew by the icy ruthlessness in his voice.

This was a side of him that she hadn’t yet seen. But perhaps, as a successful businessman, he needed to have a ruthless streak.

Though his future wife didn’t seem to care for it. Sounding close to breaking-point, she cried, ‘Well, I still think you’re wrong. There has to be a better way…’ Then, with a touch of venom, ‘Unless, of course, it’s really what you want…’

As she heard the doorknob rattle beneath fumbling fingers, terrified of being caught eavesdropping, Tina turned to run.

Knowing she would never make it across the hall and up the stairs without being seen, she fled into the neighbouring study just as the living-room door opened and closed.

Through the window, which overlooked the courtyard, she could see a bright red open-topped sports car standing by the main entrance, sun ricocheting from its polished bonnet.

A few seconds later the front door opened and a tall, slim, dark-haired woman came hurrying out with Richard at her heels.

While he had remained calm and implacable, the argument—whatever it had been about—had clearly upset Helen O’Connell and she was in tears.

His face showing concern now, he made an obvious attempt to reason with her.

When, beside herself, she refused to listen, he took her arm. She pulled it free. He tried again to detain her but, with sudden unbridled fury, she turned and slapped his face.

Then, jumping into the car, she started the ignition, stamped her foot down and, with a reckless burst of acceleration, roared across the cobbles, through the archway and over the bridge.

Richard stood for a moment, his hand to his cheek, staring after her.

When he turned to make his way back inside, afraid that he might see her watching, Tina hurriedly moved away from the window.

She was heading for the door when, unwilling to chance running into him in the hall in case he guessed what she had seen and heard, she hesitated. It might be safest to stay where she was until the coast was clear.

The next second found her wondering if that was the right decision. He’d obviously been working in here when his visitor had arrived and a file had been tossed down and left on his desk.

Suppose he came straight back to the study?

Knowing she was trapped, she waited in an agony of suspense, listening for his approaching footsteps, wondering how best to explain her presence there.

When several minutes had dragged past without her hearing a sound, realising that he wasn’t coming straight back, she heaved a sigh of relief.

If she used the phone on the desk to ring for a taxi and arranged to meet it at the top of the drive rather than let it come through into the courtyard, she might be able to leave without anyone knowing.

It would mean going without her mobile, but that was a small price to pay.

She was just reaching for the receiver when, without warning, the door opened, making her gasp.

A second later Richard walked in, looking coolly elegant in well-cut fawn trousers and a short-sleeved olive-green silk shirt open at the neck.

‘So there you are,’ he said, his taut expression clearing. ‘When you weren’t upstairs I started to wonder where you’d got to. How’s the ankle this morning? It looks as if the swelling’s gone down…’

Appearing relaxed and easy now, he came over and, tilting her chin, kissed her mouth.

A lover’s kiss.

For a split second she stood as though turned to stone, then, on a reflex action, she jerked her head sharply away.

His dark level brows drawing together in a frown, he queried, ‘What’s the matter?’

Momentarily unable to speak, she shook her head.

‘Something must be.’

‘I couldn’t find my phone,’ she said in a rush, ‘and I wanted to call a taxi.’

‘Why do you want a taxi?’ he asked evenly.

‘Because I’m leaving.’

His tawny eyes narrowed. ‘What’s happened to make you want to leave?’

‘Nothing,’ she lied desperately. ‘I just think it’s time I went. So, if you don’t mind—’

‘Oh, but I do.’ Suddenly he was looming over her. ‘After all we’ve shared, I mind very much that you want to walk out without any explanation.’

Gritting her teeth, she said boldly, ‘I don’t have to give an explanation. Surely the fact that I want to leave is enough. Now, if you’ll please let me have my mobile back.’

When he merely looked at her, she reminded him, ‘You kept it last night after you’d called Mullins—’

‘In that case it must be in my pocket…’

Shaking her head, she began, ‘It isn’t—’

He raised a dark brow. ‘How do you know?’

Seeing her flush guiltily, he observed, ‘So you’ve been going through my pockets?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said jerkily. ‘I should have asked you, I know, but I’m afraid I acted on impulse…’ The explanation petered out.

‘And did you find anything interesting?’ he queried with smooth mockery.

Nettled by his tone, she flashed back, ‘Only a torch that lit.’

‘Really?’ he drawled. ‘Then there must have been a loose connection.’

When he said nothing further, deciding to let it go, she gritted her teeth and returned to the point. ‘So please can I have my mobile?’

‘If it isn’t in my pocket, I’m afraid…’ With an elegant gesture of apology, he spread his hands, palms upward.

‘I don’t believe you don’t know where it is.’

‘And I don’t believe that you suddenly want to leave Anders for no good reason.’

Realising that she was fighting a losing battle, she said shortly, ‘Whatever you believe, you can’t prevent me from going.’

‘Don’t be too sure about that.’

Suddenly scared, she brushed past him, catching the edge of the file that was lying on his desk, knocking it to the floor and spreading the contents.

Even as she stepped over the papers and headed for the door, part of her mind registered the fact that several of them bore a stylized logo.

Her hand was on the knob when Richard caught her arm and swung her round. Then, turning the big key in the lock, he dropped it into his trousers pocket and stooped to gather together the contents of the file.

As he dropped it back on his desk, she faced him defiantly. ‘You can’t keep me here against my will.’

‘Maybe not for any length of time,’ he admitted. ‘But certainly for the moment.’

‘I insist that you let me go.’

‘Even if I did, it would be extremely difficult for you to leave without some kind of transport…So suppose you tell me the truth.’

Biting her lip, she said nothing.

‘I can only presume it’s something to do with Helen’s visit,’ he hazarded. ‘Something you overheard, perhaps?’

When she remained stubbornly silent, he sighed.

‘What a shame the thumbscrews aren’t handy,’ she taunted with sudden recklessness.

Between thick dark lashes his eyes gleamed green as a cat’s. ‘There are other ways.’

Though he spoke lightly, she felt her blood run cold. Still she braved it out. ‘Such as?’

He smiled mirthlessly. ‘Judging by the way you shied away when I kissed you, I gather you’d prefer me not to touch you?’

She lifted her chin defiantly. ‘You’re quite right, I would.’

‘You didn’t seem to feel that way last night.’

‘I do now.’

A little smile playing around his chiselled mouth, with slow deliberation he began to unbutton his shirt before pulling it from the waistband of his trousers.

‘What are you doing?’ she cried, aghast.

‘Taking off my clothes. Perhaps you’d like to do the same?’

‘No, I wouldn’t.’

‘Well, I could take them off for you,’ he suggested. ‘On the other hand, I haven’t made love fully clothed since I was an impetuous teenager, so it might be something of a novelty.’

‘I don’t want you to make love to me,’ she cried in a strangled voice. ‘I don’t want you to touch me.’

‘So you said. But if you really don’t want that, then you’ll tell me why you’re so intent on leaving.’ When she stayed mute, with a suddenness that took her completely by surprise, he pulled her close and, neatly hooking her feet from beneath her, followed her down, his arms breaking her fall.

Flat on her back on the thick-pile carpet, she made an attempt to struggle free but, catching her wrists, he pinned them over her head.

His shirt was open and, looking up at his broad chest, the strong column of his neck, the tender hollow at the base, she felt her stomach clench.

As calmly as possible, she said, ‘Let me go.’

By way of answer, he put his lips to the pulse fluttering wildly in her throat.

Thickly, she insisted, ‘If you don’t let me go this instant I’ll scream.’

His smile maddeningly cool, he said, ‘Do you think I’d allow you to? In any case, there’s no one to hear you. All the household servants are at chapel.’

He brought her wrists together and, holding them in one hand, used the other to unfasten the buttons of her blouse.

Then, flicking it open, he ran a fingertip beneath the edge of her low-cut bra and heard her breathing quicken even more. His finger delved a little deeper and he watched with satisfaction as her nipples firmed visibly beneath the delicate material.

Still she held out and he bent his head.

Feeling the heat and dampness of his mouth through the satin and lace, she began to shudder. ‘Don’t,’ she whispered in desperation. ‘Don’t…’

‘Why not? You liked it last night.’

‘That was before…’

‘Before what?’

She threw in the towel. ‘Before I knew you were planning to get married.’

‘Ah,’ he said softly, ‘so that’s it.’ Then, quick as a rattlesnake striking, ‘How do you know I’m planning to get married?’

‘Hannah mentioned it.’

He relaxed a little. ‘When did you see Hannah?’

‘I met her as I was coming downstairs. She was on her way to the chapel.’

‘I see. So that’s what all the fuss is about.’

‘If you’re going to try and tell me it isn’t true—’

‘I’ve no intention of telling you any such thing.’

‘Oh…’ Perhaps even now she had been treasuring some faint hope that Hannah had got it wrong.

Irony in his voice, he asked, ‘As you know I’m getting married, perhaps you also know who my bride-to-be is?’

‘Yes, I do. It’s Helen O’Connell.’

He raised a dark brow. ‘What makes you presume that? It’s not just because she came here, surely?’

‘It’s what I understood from Hannah.’

Frowning, he suggested, ‘Perhaps you’d better tell me word for word exactly what Hannah said.’

As near as she could remember, Tina repeated what the housekeeper had told her, adding with unconscious bitterness, ‘I gather she’s delighted.’

‘But you’re not?’

‘As far as I’m concerned, Miss O’Connell is more than welcome to you.’

‘Jealous?’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Tell me,’ he said, his face sardonic, ‘if you’re not jealous, why are you so angry about it?’

Made furious by his cavalier attitude, she cried, ‘Because you’re a brute and a beast and an unfeeling devil! How could you bring me here like this? What would your fiancée think if she found out?’

‘Do I take it you’re planning to tell her?’ he asked mockingly.

‘No, I’m not. The only thing I’m planning is to go and never get within a mile of you again.’

He shook his head regretfully. ‘In that case I’m afraid our schedules don’t match. You see I have no intention of letting you go and every intention of keeping you close by my side.’

Bending his head, he kissed her.

The casual arrogance of that kiss was the last straw and she began to struggle furiously, writhing and kicking, fighting to free her hands.

She was young and fit and, despite her slender build, strong.

But he was so much stronger.

Holding her down with the weight of his body, he ordered, ‘Lie still or you’ll hurt yourself.’

When, from sheer exhaustion, she was forced to obey, he said quietly, ‘That’s better.’

‘Oh, please, Richard,’ she begged raggedly, ‘let me get up.’

Perhaps he realised how close to tears she was, because without further ado he released her wrists and his weight lifted from her.