Tycoon's Choice: Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal

By the time five o’clock arrived, convinced that her worst fears had been realised, she was a mass of jangling nerves. She was wondering agitatedly whom she could contact, when she saw his car pull up outside. The rush of relief was so great that it made her feel giddy and light-headed.

He had his own key by now, and she stood, her knees trembling so much they would hardly support her, while he crossed the streaming pavement and let himself in. She wanted to run to him, but she could neither move nor speak.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get here any sooner.’ As he spoke he took off his coat and hung it up.

When he turned she noticed some angry-looking marks on his face, as though a cat had raked its claws down his cheek.

‘What have you done to your face?’

‘It’s just a scratch,’ he said dismissively.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she remarked, ‘I wondered what had happened to you.’

‘I was unavoidably detained.’

She waited for some kind of explanation, but he said nothing further.

After so much anxiety, his casual dismissal of the subject caught her on the raw.

Seeing her mouth tighten, he said, ‘We can still go to the gallery this evening.’

‘It’s not that,’ she assured him stiffly. ‘I was worried to death about you. I just wish you’d given me a ring.’

‘I’m afraid my mobile went on the blink.’

The obvious excuse did nothing to help matters.

‘Forgive me?’ Seeing her set face, he smiled. ‘Oh, dear, obviously not.’

His eyes fixed on her mouth, he bent his head to kiss her.

She moved back a step.

He sighed. ‘And here I’ve been, waiting all day to kiss you. Waiting all day just to touch you, to take you to bed and make love to you.’

Angry with him for his cavalier attitude, she looked at him stonily.

‘In that case, I’ll have to resort to a spot of friendly persuasion.’

Catching the lapels of her jacket, he pulled her towards him. Then, one hand beneath her chin, he lifted her face to meet his kiss.

It wasn’t until his lips touched hers that she realised just how urgent was her need to have him kiss her. Just how much she needed to be reassured that he was really here, to be with her.

But, unwilling to let him know it, she tried her utmost to hide how she felt. Though she badly wanted to, she refused to put her arms round his neck, refused to melt against him as she normally did.

Even so, they were standing so close she could feel the warmth of his body, the ripple of his muscles, the firmness of his flesh.

His hand slid up and down her spine in a restless movement that told her he didn’t like restraining himself, but was doing it anyway while he waited for some sign that he was forgiven.

After a time, when none was forthcoming, he lifted his mouth enough to murmur huskily, ‘Are you persuaded yet?’

Her anger having drained away, she answered, ‘Not yet; keep trying.’

His lips curved into a smile before his arms closed around her and he kissed her again.

Unable to resist him any longer, she reached up slowly, her fingertips tenderly tracing the scratches, before her palm cupped the hard planes of his cheek.

She heard his indrawn breath before he covered her hand with his own and, carrying it to his lips, kissed the palm.

Her whole being melted with love for him, and she wondered, how on earth had she managed to live before she met him?

When she tugged her hand free he frowned, a frown that changed to a glint of satisfaction as her fingers began to undo his shirt buttons.

It was only later that she realised she ought to have pressed him for an explanation first, but how could she, when so many times she had failed to give him one?

His need urgent, he swept her up in his arms and carried her through to the bedroom. When he had swiftly undressed her and lifted her onto the bed, he stripped off his own clothes.

Though she had seen him naked many times, she caught her breath yet again. He was a magnificent male animal, and she was his chosen mate. It was as wonderfully simple, as down to earth, as that.

Mostly he was a slow, skilful lover who took his time and enjoyed pleasuring her, building up the intensity until often she was gasping and writhing, hardly able to bear all the exquisite sensations he was engendering.

But now he wasted no time on foreplay, and trembling enough to rouse him even more, she accepted his weight eagerly.

She could hear his quickened breathing, feel the thump of his heart, and knowing she had caused it gave her pleasure.

Briefly she was pliant beneath him, waiting. Then she was taut as a drawn bow string as he drove hard and fast, carrying them both to a shattering climax.

She experienced a complete losing of self, then a gradual gathering back as they lay in an erotic tangle of limbs, both breathing as if they’d just run a race.

After a while he lifted himself away and, leaning over her, brushed a loose tendril of silky blonde hair away from her flushed cheek.

‘All right?’ His expression held a mixture of concern and tenderness.

‘Of course,’ she assured him. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

‘Well, I wasn’t very gentle.’

His words made her think, made her suddenly appreciate that normally he was careful with her. But something—that brief touch of discord perhaps?—had thrown him off balance.

‘You don’t have to treat me like porcelain,’ she told him a shade tartly. ‘I won’t break.’

Suddenly he was laughing. ‘Are you trying to tell me you prefer it hard and fast to slow and easy? Well, well, well…’

‘I’m not trying to tell you anything of the kind. I like…’ She broke off and, feeling her colour rise, tried to wriggle free.

Putting an arm either side of her, he said silkily, ‘Do go on. It’s about time you opened up and told me. What do you like? I’m always willing to oblige.’

He was in a strange mood, she thought, and accused, ‘You’re trying to embarrass me.’

‘Succeeding too, if the way you’re blushing is anything to go by,’ he said arrogantly.

Pushing herself up, she made another, more determined, attempt to escape.

He foiled her by the simple expedient of pulling her elbows from beneath her.

‘Don’t be shy. Tell me.’

‘Rafe, please…’

‘That’s my intention as soon as I know what pleases you the most…’

When she remained silent, he sighed. ‘Oh, well, if you’re determined not to tell me, I’ll just have to experiment and make my own judgement…’

‘Not now.’ She tried once more to sit up.

Pushing her gently back, he said, ‘Now.’

Secure in the knowledge that all hunger was sated, she said, ‘You’ll be wasting your time.’

‘I don’t think so.’

She quivered like a plucked string under his hands as he effortlessly re-aroused her desire. Soon she was spinning in some crazy world of sublime sensations while his every touch, his seeking mouth and tongue added more…

When finally she lay limp and emotionally drained, he gathered her close and kissed her. ‘Sleep now.’

After a short time she awoke refreshed to find he was up and dressed.

‘If we have a quick meal at the Xanadu we’ve still got time to go to the gallery.’

‘We don’t have to go.’

‘I know you want to.’ Bending down to kiss her, he added, ‘And I don’t want you to miss out on anything that gives you pleasure.’

As she showered and dressed, she thought—as she’d thought before and was to think many times in the coming weeks—how lucky she was to have Rafe. With a quiet but radiant happiness, she found herself daring to anticipate the day when he would tell her he loved her and ask her to be his wife.

Then, one golden evening in late September, a woman arrived at the clinic asking to speak to Madeleine on a matter of some urgency.

Presuming it was business, she agreed, and when a tall, good-looking brunette was shown in, she held out her hand with a friendly smile. ‘Hello…I’m Madeleine Knight.’

The expression in her dark eyes unmistakably hostile, the newcomer, beautifully dressed and thin to the point of gauntness, ignored the proffered hand. ‘And I’m Fiona Charn, Rafe’s fiancée…’

Sitting down in the visitor’s chair, she crossed slim, silkclad legs. ‘To put it bluntly, I gather that while I’ve been away this last time, he’s been bedding you…’

Watching the hot colour pour into Madeleine’s cheeks, Fiona added, ‘But I’m wearing his ring.’ She flashed a large, square-cut emerald.

Somehow Madeleine gathered herself enough to say jerkily, ‘I had no idea he had a fiancée.’

‘Oh, I don’t blame you in particular. Rafe’s always been a red-blooded man, and if it hadn’t been you it would have been some other woman. He’s extremely attractive to the opposite sex. Women throw themselves at him, so in a way one can’t wonder that he takes advantage…

‘But now I’m home it has to stop. Rafe’s mine.’

Her voice sounding thin and tight, Madeleine said, ‘If he’s that kind of man I’m surprised you still want him.’

‘Oh, I want him all right, so if you were thinking of suggesting that I set him free, forget it…For one thing he doesn’t want out, and for another, we have a bargain…’

‘A bargain?’ Madeleine echoed.

‘When it became clear that I was to be an only child, Daddy was bitterly disappointed. He held the old-fashioned belief that no mere woman could be expected to run a business empire successfully. Then Rafe came to live with us, and it was like a dream come true. The son he’d always wanted.

‘Daddy was a wealthy man, but most of his money was tied up in the business and, to give him his due, he was concerned about my future.’ Fiona paused, tossing her silken hair over her shoulder.

‘After his first heart attack, he talked things over with Rafe and agreed to leave Charn Industries to him lock, stock and barrel if he would marry me and take care of me…’

Yes, Madeleine remembered being told that Rafe had inherited the Charn empire from his godfather.

‘Rafe and I had been lovers for some time, so he was quite happy to make it legal. We’d have been married by now and there wouldn’t have been a problem if I hadn’t been diagnosed with a rare blood disorder. I’ve had to spend long periods in a private clinic undergoing treatment, which meant Rafe was left alone, and, as I say, he’s a red-blooded man who needs a woman. Any woman.’

Her voice brittle, Fiona went on, ‘Then I discovered I was pregnant, which made this last treatment more prolonged and complicated, and in the end I lost the baby…’

Shocked and horrified to think that she and Rafe had been lovers while his fiancée went through such an ordeal, Madeleine stood rooted to the spot, staring at her.

‘But now I’m back home for good, and we’ll be getting married fairly soon. I don’t intend to let him stray, so I suggest you find yourself another man, preferably one that doesn’t belong to some other woman.’

Getting to her feet, Fiona stalked out without a backward glance, leaving Madeleine devastated, shattered, her insides fractured into tiny pieces like a car’s windscreen smashed with a hammer.

She was still standing staring blindly into space when Eve came in carrying the next patient’s notes. ‘Dear God!’ she exclaimed, after a glance at her friend’s face. ‘You’re as white as a sheet. What on earth’s wrong?’

Madeleine focused with difficulty, and her voice impeded, said, ‘Fiona Charn, the woman who just went out, is Rafe’s fiancée.’

‘What?’

‘She’s Rafe’s fiancée,’ Madeleine repeated.

Seeing her sway, and afraid she was going to faint, Eve pushed her into a chair.

‘You’re sure? You haven’t got the wrong end of the stick or anything?’

‘She was wearing his ring.’

‘No! It can’t be right; he loves you…I felt sure he did.’ Eve was angry and indignant on her behalf. ‘But if he’s that kind of man, perhaps you’re better off without him…’

She gave her friend a quick hug and, seeing the blankness of shock still on Madeleine’s face, said, ‘Look, why don’t you go home? I’ll tell Mrs Bond you’re ill and get someone to fill in for you.’

‘No…I’ll be all right. I’d rather keep working. Just give me a few minutes.’

When Madeleine went home that evening, Eve insisted on going with her. ‘Noel might well be out, and I don’t think you should be alone,’ she said soberly.

But Noel, who was just back from the Middle East and currently sleeping on Madeleine’s bed-settee, was at home.

When he heard the news he was sympathetic, even angrier than his sister, and a great deal more vocal. ‘I’d like to break the bastard’s neck,’ was one of his more restrained comments.

But as Madeleine pointed out bleakly, though Rafe had treated the woman who was to be his future wife with a callous disregard that was unforgivable, he had told her no lies. Promised her nothing.

He had never said he was free, never said he loved her or asked for her love. She had given it freely, and foolishly perhaps, presumed he was free, presumed he cared about her.

She couldn’t have been more wrong. But perhaps, after what had happened to Colin and her mother, she didn’t deserve to be happy. Perhaps it was poetic justice that Rafe hadn’t loved her, any more than she had loved Colin…Perhaps this was what she deserved…

‘Don’t make excuses for him,’ Noel broke into her thoughts. ‘He’s just been using you…I take it you won’t be joining him in Paris?’

‘No!’ she said determinedly.

Rafe was in the French capital on business, and he had made all the arrangements for Madeleine to join him for a long weekend. It was a romantic trip she had been greatly looking forward to—staying on the Champs-Elysées, dining on the Bateaux Mouches, walking hand in hand down the Rue de Rivoli…

But now everything had changed.

‘When he gets back,’ Noel went on, ‘face up to the swine and tell him what you think of him.’

‘I can’t,’ she whispered.

How could she let Rafe see how heartbroken she was, how utterly devastated? It would be humiliating, mortifying. Somehow she had to walk away with at least her selfrespect intact.

Guessing what was in her mind, Eve approved her decision. ‘It might be best to let him think you don’t care, that it doesn’t mean a thing to you. At least that way you won’t be just another scalp dangling from his belt…’

‘So how are you going to get out of this Paris trip without letting him suspect the truth?’ Noel asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Madeleine said helplessly.

After the three of them had talked it over for a while, Eve exclaimed, ‘I’ve got it! Send the brute a ‘Dear John’ email. Tell him you’ve met someone new and you’re finishing with him.’

‘I don’t think that would work,’ Madeleine demurred. ‘He’s only been in Paris two days—there hasn’t been time for me to have met anyone else.’

‘In that case make it someone you already know,’ Eve said thoughtfully.

Madeleine shrugged. ‘But I don’t know anyone I could begin to pretend was a new lover…’

‘What about me?’ Noel asked. When Madeleine stared at him blankly, he said, ‘Don’t look at me like that, or you’ll seriously damage my ego. Aren’t I tanned and handsome, personable enough to play the part of your lover?’

‘Of course, but—’

‘Then all you have to do is tell the lowdown skunk that I’m the man you really care about. Go on to say that I’ve been away working, and now I’m back he’s redundant, so to speak. That would do the trick, don’t you think?’

‘It might,’ Madeleine admitted. ‘He once saw a snapshot of you and wanted to know who it was. When I told him, he asked if you were an ex-lover. I said no, a friend.’

‘That’s fine, then. You wouldn’t have been likely to admit to your current lover that I was more than just a friend, would you?

‘Right…’ He produced his laptop. ‘Get cracking, and make it offhand enough to trample his masculine pride in the dust. That way you’ll never have to set eyes on him again.’

After some input from both Eve and Noel, the short email read:

Noel has returned from the Middle East sooner than

I’d expected, so I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you in Paris after all.

Sorry it’s a bit last-minute, but I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone else to take my place.

Thanks for all the good times.

Madeleine.

‘That should do the trick,’ Noel approved.

Eve agreed, and the email was duly sent.

It wasn’t until after supper, when Eve had gone home and Noel was settled on the bed-settee, that the full realisation of what she’d done struck her, and she gave way to the bitter unhappiness that crowded in.

Climbing into bed, she buried her face in the pillow and cried until she had no more tears left, before falling into an exhausted sleep.

Next morning when she awoke, Noel was already up, and as she tidied the bedding away and folded the settee she could hear the shower running.

Still in her night things, she was making coffee when he strolled into the kitchen with a towel knotted around his lean hips.

‘Mmm…smells good.’

Madeleine had just turned to hand him a mug when she saw a car pull up outside and a familiar figure jump out.

Filled as she was with a sudden panic, her hand trembled so much that a lot of the coffee slopped over.

‘Steady there.’ Noel took the mug from her.

White to the lips, she whispered, ‘Oh, dear God, it’s Rafe. I don’t want to see him. I can’t bear it.’

‘So don’t answer the door.’ Noel shrugged.

‘He has a key,’ she admitted miserably. Then in desperation, ‘What am I going to do?’

‘I’ll soon send him packing…No, better still…Come on, kiddo, let’s give the cheating swine an Oscar-winning performance.’

Grabbing her hand, Noel hurried her into the bedroom, coming to a halt in line with the open door.

‘Put your arms round my neck and close your eyes,’ he instructed. Dropping the towel, he pulled her close and began to kiss her just as the front door opened and Rafe walked in.

Noel broke the kiss, and they both looked towards the man standing there as though the sky had fallen in on him.

Shock, and a kind of raw disbelief, showed in his face, closely followed by anger. Then the shock and anger iced over and with a razor-sharp edge to his voice he said, ‘So this is Noel…I can quite see why you didn’t want to come to Paris…’

Tossing the key he was holding onto the coffee-table, he added, ‘We’ll meet again, Madeleine, one day. Mark my words…’ and, turning on his heel, walked out.

‘That’s put paid to the swine,’ Noel remarked with satisfaction, and, using one hand to cover Madeleine’s eyes, stooped to grab the towel.

‘Now, then, if you promise to keep your eyes shut while I make myself decent, I’ll allow you to pour me another mug of coffee…’

Though she kept them shut, there was no real need to—they were blinded by tears…

Chapter Four

AS THOUGH the fates had conspired against her, the bitter end to the affair coincided with a further blow. After slipping into a deep coma, her mother died three days later at the age of just forty-four.

At the funeral Madeleine was dry-eyed, too frozen for tears. Blaming herself for her mother’s death, as she had blamed herself for her husband’s, she felt leaden, desolate, weighed down by grief and guilt.

Eve and Noel were the only other mourners. Madeleine’s aunt and uncle wrote to offer their condolences, and to apologise for not being there.

The letter ended, ‘If you feel like getting right away come and visit with us, do, and stay for as long as you want to.’

The suggestion seemed like a lifeline.

Her job at the clinic was almost over, and Noel, on summer leave, and with nowhere to live, professed himself happy to flat-sit for her.

With Eve’s encouragement, Madeleine notified her private patients, and accepted her aunt and uncle’s invitation to visit them in Boston.

Her only regret was leaving Katie, who, on hearing the news, threw her thin arms around Madeleine’s waist and, her big brown eyes overflowing with tears, cried, ‘I don’t want you to go.’

‘But you’re almost better now. If you keep on doing your exercises you don’t really need me any longer.’

‘I do, I do,’ the child wailed.

‘I promise I’ll come and visit you as soon as I get back, and then you’ll be able to show me how well you’re managing.’

Tears still running down her cheeks, Katie sniffed dolefully. ‘How long will you be gone?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Madeleine told her. ‘A few weeks…A month maybe.’

‘I’ll miss you, the little girl said, brushing away her tears.’

‘Tell you what—suppose I write to you?’

‘Can I write back?’

‘I’ll expect you to. Now, give me a smile, and don’t forget to do those exercises.’ Madeleine smiled, an ache in her heart as she said goodbye to the little girl who reminded her so much of Rafe.

‘I won’t.’

When Madeleine arrived in Boston, her aunt and uncle, who had a big house on the edge of the Common, welcomed her with open arms and, seeing how shattered she looked, did their utmost to cheer her up.

For their sakes she tried to appear cheerful, but her mother’s death had left her desolate, and she missed Rafe with a raw, ragged, savage pain that made her feel as if she’d been mauled and left for dead.

She had intended to stay in Boston for a month at the most, but, unable to regain her grip, and giving in to her aunt and uncle’s urging, the visit lengthened to five weeks.

After six weeks had gone by, feeling unable to accept their generous hospitality any longer, she declared her intention of returning to England.

‘Do you want to go home?’ her aunt asked.

‘No,’ Madeleine admitted—suppose she ran into Rafe, or saw the announcement of his wedding in the papers?—‘but I must get back to work.’

‘You’re not just worrying about money, are you? We’re not exactly poor, and I’m sure—’

‘You’re very kind, and I appreciate it. But I do want to start work again as soon as possible.’

Agreeing that that might be for the best, her uncle offered her a position in the physical-therapy unit of the Wansdon Heights Fitness Center, which he owned.

After some thought, she accepted. If she stayed safely in Boston, surely sooner or later she would forget about Rafe?

Either that or she was afraid she would grieve for the rest of her life.

Her aunt and uncle were delighted that she was staying and, when she announced her intention of finding a small apartment to rent, urged her to live with them.

‘We love having you here, and we’ve five spare bedrooms. We can turn the biggest into what you Brits call a bedsit.’

She thanked them sincerely but, needing to be independent, insisted on paying a fair rent and keeping herself.

Unable to change her mind, they agreed.

A phone call to London settled that when Noel went back to the Middle East he would hand in the keys to her flat, and Eve would store her relatively few possessions.

That part was easy. The letter to Katie, who was looking forward to having her back, was much harder to write.

The answer came by return. Her parents, apparently to soften the blow, were buying the child a computer for her birthday, and after extracting a promise that Madeleine would keep in touch by email Katie seemed reasonably cheerful.

The fitness centre was extremely busy, and in an effort to put the past behind her and give herself less time to brood Madeleine chose to work long hours, finding it rewarding and, after a time, therapeutic.

The bleakness of disillusionment, mingled with the longing for what might have been had Rafe proved to be the man of principle she had thought him, began to fade but still never truly left her thoughts. By the time Alan Bannerman joined the staff, she was over the worst. Or so she told herself.