Taming the Rebel Tycoon

He must think she was easy, that this was her usual behaviour. Cringing, she wondered how she was going to face him.

And he would be back before too long.

The mere thought turned her insides into a quivering mass of jelly.

Trying to get a grip, she told herself bracingly that she was bound to feel better, more confident, when she had showered and got dressed.

Averting her gaze from the chair that held last night’s discarded clothes, she stumbled out of bed. The movement made her temples pound so violently that for a moment she was forced to stand with her eyes shut, too dizzy to move.

When the world stopped spinning, she located her clip on the bedside cabinet and fastened her hair on top of her head.

Then, moving more carefully now, both for the sake of her head and her ankle which, though a great deal better, still wasn’t quite right, went into the bathroom to clean her teeth and shower.

While the hot water and lavender-scented gel flowed slickly over her bare flesh, it occurred to her that, in the circumstances, she would have expected her body to look and feel different—a faint redness here and there, a little stiffness, some tenderness perhaps? ‘Fulfilled, more like a real woman,’ would have been Ruth’s poetic way of putting it.

But, apart from a headache and feeling slightly nauseous, which were obviously the effects of too much alcohol, there wasn’t a mark on her and physically she felt just the same.

Only nothing was the same.

It never would be again.

As she dried herself and cleaned her teeth, trying to ignore the fact that in a single day her whole world had somehow been turned topsy-turvey, she made what plans she could.

Richard Anders had promised to get her car fixed so, hopefully, if she gave him Ruth’s address, the garage would let her know when it was done.

In the meantime she would leave Pemberley Square as soon as possible and book into a hotel.

Though her heart plummeted at the thought of walking away from Richard, it was something she had to do. If she looked as if she was making any attempt to cling or prolong things he would only secretly despise her…

She had just returned to the bedroom to find some fresh clothes when a tap at the door sent her scurrying back into bed.

A moment later Richard strode in carrying a loaded breakfast tray. He was wearing a short navy-blue silk robe and, apart from one dark lock that had escaped to fall over his forehead, his hair had been tamed into submission.

He looked clear-eyed and incredibly handsome and, though she tried her hardest to appear cool and composed, her heart picked up speed.

Studying her shiny nose and the damp strands of hair escaping from the clip, he commented gravely, ‘You’ve had your shower, I see.’

Feeling a disturbing mixture of embarrassment and powerful attraction and knowing her hair must look ridiculous bundled on top of her head like this, she wished she’d had time to brush it.

‘How’s the ankle this morning?’

Somehow she found her voice and said huskily, ‘Much better, thank you.’

Having set the tray on the bedside cabinet, he crossed to the window to draw back the curtains. ‘We seem to have our good weather back,’ he observed as the sunshine flooded in. ‘Which should be a relief after yesterday.’

Almost to himself and with a little reminiscent smile, he added, ‘However, rain like that can create some lasting memories…’

She was wondering what kind of memories he had in mind when, returning to the bedside, he stooped to touch his lips to hers before asking, ‘Now, about ready for some breakfast?’

Quivering from that casual little caress, she trapped the duvet under her arms and looked anywhere but at him as he set the tray across her knees.

It held freshly squeezed grapefruit juice and a full English breakfast, including toast and marmalade and a pot of coffee.

‘As I’m aiming for a black belt in cooking and I don’t get a chance to practise while Gwen’s here, I thought I might as well go the whole hog.

‘But, first of all, drink this.’ He handed her a glass containing a small amount of cloudy liquid.

Though the actual taste wasn’t too bad, the concoction had an unpleasant slimy texture and she shuddered as she swallowed it.

‘Pretty revolting, isn’t it?’ he commented cheerfully. ‘But it’s extremely effective; the best cure for a hangover I know. By the time you’ve had something to eat, your headache will be gone.’

He poured the coffee, which was hot and fragrant, and, having divided the sausages, bacon, button mushrooms and grilled tomatoes between two plates, paused to ask, ‘Now, then, how brave do you feel?’

‘Brave?’

He grinned. ‘While everything else is usually eatable, my scrambled eggs have been known to resemble foam rubber, so it’s up to you.’

Raising a well-marked brow, he added quizzically, ‘Are you brave enough to try a spoonful?’

Suddenly liking him a lot, she smiled and nodded.

‘Your courage is only exceeded by your personal beauty,’ he told her and, having added the eggs, put a plate in front of her. ‘There you are, tuck in. You’ll feel a lot better when you’ve eaten.’

He took a napkin and his own plate and sat down companionably on the edge of the bed.

It was all so intimate they could have been lovers for years, she found herself thinking, or an old married couple.

But familiarity brought, if not contempt, a kind of serenity, and serenity was absent. His close proximity, her keen awareness of him, alerted all her senses and made her heart race and her temperature rise like a rocket.

Distracted, her appetite suddenly non-existent, she sipped her coffee and considered telling him that she wasn’t hungry after all.

But, unwilling to hurt his feelings, she finally picked up her knife and fork and began to eat. After the first mouthful or two she found, unexpectedly, that her appetite had returned.

Somewhat to her surprise—most of the men she had known in the past could scarcely boil water—everything was cooked to perfection and the eggs proved to be deliciously light and fluffy.

But then he was the kind of man who would excel at anything he set his hand to.

Glancing up, she met his tawny eyes.

‘Well?’ he queried.

‘You’re awarded a black belt.’

‘That’s good.’ With a small secret smile he added, ‘It’s my aim to please you in every way.’

That smile and the gleam in his eyes made her wonder if the innocent words had a double meaning and, feeling the colour rise in her cheeks, she hastily returned her attention to her meal.

He had put their empty plates on one side and offered her the toast rack before he broke the silence to ask, ‘Feeling any better?’

Starting to butter her toast, she answered, ‘Much better, thank you,’ and was surprised to find it was the truth. Her headache had lifted and the feeling of nausea had vanished.

Smiling at her, he said, ‘That’s good.’

He had leaned forward to help himself to a piece of toast when, glancing up, she saw that a stray shaft of sunshine had fallen across his handsome face, lighting it up.

Fascinated, she stared into his eyes. The irises, dark green and ringed with gold, had flecks of hazel and gold swimming in their tawny depths.

It seemed an age before she could tear her gaze away and return to her toast.

As, somewhat distractedly, she finished spreading it, she got a smear of marmalade on the index finger of her left hand. She was about to lick if off when he lifted her hand and, putting her finger in his mouth, sucked.

Feeling the warmth and wetness, the slight roughness of his tongue, she caught her breath and her stomach tied itself in knots.

A moment later he released her hand and, as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t shaken her to the very core, remarked, ‘By the way, while breakfast was cooking I phoned the garage. I’ve made arrangements to have your car picked up and repaired as soon as possible.’

Her voice impeded, she said, ‘Thank you. That’s very kind of you.’

‘It’s the least I can do.’

‘Perhaps if I give you my friend’s address, you’ll ask the garage to let me have the bill?’

Flatly, he said, ‘I shall do no such thing. As I ran into you, the responsibility is mine…Now, then, more coffee?’

‘Please.’

As he reached to replenish their coffee cups, his tone careless, he enquired, ‘I take it you have no plans for the weekend?’

‘I’ve trespassed long enough on your hospitality, so the first thing I must do is find a hotel…’

His mouth tightened. Once again she wasn’t reacting as he might have expected and he couldn’t afford to let her move into a hotel. While she was under his roof, he wanted to keep her there.

‘Then I intend to visit some employment agencies,’ she went on, determinedly, ‘and see what kind of jobs are currently available…’

That was another thing he couldn’t let her do.

‘Surely there’s no need to look for work immediately? Won’t you be receiving some kind of redundancy payment?’

‘I was given six months’ salary, which is really very generous. But when my flat is finished the rent will go up considerably. And, apart from that, I have financial commitments that make it necessary to find another job without too much delay.’

That could well be to his advantage, he thought. And then, though he already knew, he asked, ‘What exactly did your previous job entail?’

‘Tying up with the buyer to gather data and taste as many of the new vintages as possible; describing and cataloguing the wines; sending out promotional leaflets; organising the various social occasions and parties that are part of a sales push and making sure we received maximum press coverage.’

‘Sounds like a job and a half. But I gather you enjoyed it?’

She sighed. ‘Yes, I did, very much. Losing it came as a blow.’

‘It must have done.’

‘What are the chances of joining another vintner?’

‘Unfortunately, not very high, unless I was prepared to work abroad.’

‘And you don’t want to do that?’

‘Not really.’ She needed to be on hand to try and make sure that Didi didn’t go off the rails again.

‘But you’d prefer to be in the wine trade?’

‘It’s what I spent over three years studying for.’

‘Three years?’ He seemed surprised.

‘I did one year at college and another two on the practical side.’

‘Where did you get your hands-on experience?’

‘I spent two years working at the Château de Renard, learning about soil composition, planting methods, culture and yields, what factors need to be present to produce a good vintage, how to most successfully blend the various grape types—’

She stopped speaking abruptly, wondering if she was boring him.

But, looking anything but bored, he exclaimed, ‘Then you’re just the woman I need!’

As she stared at him, he explained, ‘You have exactly the kind of knowledge and experience that I’ve been hoping to find.

‘Our family home is at Castle Anders…’

‘Is Castle Anders the name of a place or is it a…?’ She hesitated and broke off in confusion.

‘A real castle?’ he finished for her.

‘Well, yes…’ she said, flushing a little.

Looking amused, he told her, ‘It’s a real castle.’

So his family home was a castle!

Her heart sank. If, hating the thought of never seeing him again, she had harboured any faint hope of staying in his life, that killed it stone dead. With money and a privileged background like that, he was right out of her class.

‘Though the estate is still extensive,’ he went on, ‘the castle itself is quite small as castles go. No larger, in fact, than, say, a reasonably sized hall, but with more turrets.

‘But, to get back to the point, although Anders is only just over an hour’s drive from London, we’ve a small vineyard on the estate.

‘The winery hasn’t been in production for quite a number of years but I’ve always had it in mind that if and when the opportunity arose I’d try and give it a new lease of life.’

Finding her voice, Tina hazarded, ‘So you’d like some advice?’

‘I was thinking of rather more than that. As your needs and my needs seem to coincide, I was offering you a job.’

‘A job?’

By rights she should have been ecstatic, but now a miracle had happened she simply felt numb.

‘You said you needed one,’ he pointed out.

With no chance of any other relationship developing, working for him would be one way of staying in his life.

But wouldn’t it be awkward and embarrassing, put her in an untenable position, to work for a man she had been to bed with?

‘I do, but I…I really don’t think…’

He had hoped for a more positive, a more favourable, response. But, wary of exerting too much pressure, he said easily, ‘Well, you don’t have to decide right this minute…

‘Tell you what, I’ll ask Jervis to bring the car round and as soon as you’re up and dressed we’ll go over to Anders. After you’ve seen the castle and the vineyard we can talk about it further.’

She had opened her mouth to refuse, when she hesitated. Though nothing could come of it, she found she badly wanted to spend a little more time with him, see his family home.

Watching her face, trying to gauge her reaction, he wondered how to play it. Would it be best to turn on the heat or allow her a breathing space?

But what if she decided against going to Anders? He couldn’t afford to let her take the initiative and walk away. Somehow he had to make her want to stay with him.

His mind made up, he rose to his feet in a leisurely manner and, removing the tray, set it down on the Elizabethan blanket chest.

When he didn’t immediately leave, unwilling to let him see her get out of bed naked, she stayed where she was until, with an innocent look, he queried, ‘Something wrong?’

‘My dressing gown’s still in my case,’ she explained awkwardly.

He crossed to where her case was and returned a moment later with her lightweight dressing gown over his arm. Instead of handing it to her, however, he stood by the bed and held it for her.

When still she hesitated, he said quizzically, ‘Don’t tell me you’re shy, after last night?’

Watching her bite her lip, he laughed softly. ‘Why, I do believe you are. But then if you remember how—’

‘I’m afraid I don’t remember much about it,’ she broke in desperately.

‘Much?’

‘Anything,’ she admitted.

‘Ah,’ he murmured softly. ‘Well, if you’d like me to refresh your memory…?’

Thoroughly hot and bothered, her equilibrium gone, she exclaimed, ‘No!’ Then, less vehemently, ‘No, I wouldn’t…I mean I…I just want to get dressed.’

He frowned. Though she had been wrong-footed from the start, it was already clear that she had much more strength of character than he’d envisaged and he couldn’t make up his mind whether, in the long run, that was a good thing or not.

But one thing he did know. While she was off balance it would pay him to keep her off balance…

With a sigh he said, ‘Then perhaps I’d better stop teasing you.’

The mock contrition on his face and the devilish gleam in his eyes made him totally irresistible.

Realising that he had no real intention of stopping and knowing she would have to make a move or endure even more, she slid out of bed and, her back turned to him, slipped into the silky gown.

Wrapping it round her and holding it in place with his arms, he touched his lips to the warmth of her nape, planting soft little baby kisses until he reached the warm hollow behind her ear.

As, shivers running up and down her spine, she stood perfectly still, not daring to move, his mouth travelled down the side of her neck, nibbling and sucking, making her want to squirm.

At the same time his hands slid up to cup her breasts. Through the thin material of her gown, she could feel the warmth of his palms and her heart began to race madly. When his thumbs brushed over her sensitive nipples she gasped.

Part of her mind was aware that she ought to pull free, put a stop to this madness before she reached the point of no return.

But still she continued to stand rooted to the spot while his hands caressed her breasts, sending needle-sharp darts of pleasure running through her.

Just when she thought she could stand no more of such exquisite torment, he stopped and, turning her into his arms, lifted her chin and began to kiss her.

While she tried to hold on to the coat tails of her fast disappearing self-control and call a halt, he plundered her mouth with a masterful expertise that soon, caught in the spell of the black magic he was weaving, left her limp and quivering all over.

She had never known it could be like this. Had never imagined anyone being able to make her feel such longing, such naked need.

When finally he slipped the dressing gown from her shoulders and laid her down on the bed, mindless with desire, she made no demur.

For a brief moment he stood looking down at her, half regretting what he intended to do, wishing that circumstances were other than what they were.

Her flawless skin, her long slender limbs, her beautifully shaped breasts, her slim waist and flat stomach, the seductive curve of her hips, would have tempted the most dedicated of monks.

Tossing aside his own robe, he stretched out naked beside her and, murmuring how beautiful she was, began to kiss her again, expertly and thoroughly.

CHAPTER FOUR

WHILE he kissed her his skilful hands travelled caressingly over her body, filling her with a singing delight. A sensation that intensified almost unbearably as, his finger and thumb teasing one pink nipple, he took the other into his mouth and stroked it with the tip of his tongue.

While he continued to ravish her, his free hand began to explore the silky honey-gold triangle of curls and the satiny skin of her inner thighs.

She began to make soft little sounds deep in her throat, wordless pleas that he heard with a wholly masculine satisfaction.

But now was the time to make his move while he was still in control. If he left it any longer…

When, in response to her urging, he moved over her, after a lifetime of discipline and self-restraint it seemed the most natural thing in the world to welcome him and, feeling his weight, she gave a little murmur of pleasure.

A murmur that died in her throat as, all at once, muttering something she didn’t catch, he drew away.

Her eyes flew open.

He got to his feet, pulled the duvet over her and shrugged into his robe while she lay there, bereft and bewildered.

Deplorably innocent she might be, but there wasn’t the faintest doubt that he’d wanted her, so what had made him change his mind so suddenly?

Bending down, he kissed her and said quietly, ‘Gwen’s back early…’

She hadn’t heard a thing, Tina thought dazedly, but in the circumstances that wasn’t surprising.

‘There’s no guarantee that she won’t come upstairs,’ he went on, ‘and the guest room doesn’t have a key, so to save everyone’s blushes I’ll take the evidence and make myself scarce.’

Picking up the tray, he headed for the door.

Watching it close behind him, it struck her that, far from being seriously annoyed, he seemed to be taking the whole thing in his stride.

Almost as if he had planned to walk away at that point…

But why on earth should he? It didn’t make sense. She dismissed the ridiculous thought. It would simply be that what would have been new and earth-shaking for her wouldn’t mean the same to him.

Though, judging by the care he had taken to avoid upsetting his housekeeper, he didn’t bring his women here, he must be used to having his every need met. Which meant he could regard the interruption as just a slight annoyance.

Whereas she felt empty and desolate, like someone who had been torn from the gates of paradise just as they were about to open…

But, unless she wanted to risk Mrs Baxter finding her like this, she mustn’t lie here repining.

The thought galvanizing her into action, she got out of bed and pulled on her gown while she found fresh underwear and a clean blouse.

While she had been drifting along, sexually unawakened, it had been comparatively easy to deny her body’s needs. But being awakened, feeling really alive for the first time, though wonderful, was a two-edged sword.

Trying to ignore the way her body still cried out for fulfilment, the demons of frustration that clamoured for release, she put on her suit, coiled her hair and made-up lightly.

Then she repacked her case, gathered up her coat and handbag and, allowing herself no more time for regrets or thoughts of what might have been, made her way downstairs.

There was no sign of either the housekeeper or Richard and everything was quiet as she descended the stairs.

In the hall she hesitated, suddenly embarrassed at the thought of having to face him after everything that had happened.

It would be so much easier if she was free to just slip away, as self-sufficient, as uninvolved as she had been before she had first seen him standing in Cartel’s car park.

But she wasn’t.

No longer mistress of her own destiny, at this precise moment she could no more make herself walk away and leave him than she could fly to the moon. As though caught in a spell, she was held by invisible bonds, ties she didn’t begin to understand but couldn’t escape.

It was both a frightening and strangely exhilarating thought.

She couldn’t be in love. It couldn’t have happened this fast. But from being a woman very much alone, trapped in an emotional vacuum, overnight everything had changed. She had finally been awakened and was alive in a way that she had never known before.

Even when she and Kevin had been newly engaged and she had thought she loved him, she had never felt like this.

But, no matter how she felt, when they got back from Castle Anders, for the sake of her self-respect, she must move into a hotel.

Leaving her case in the hall, she headed for the study. As she reached the door she heard Richard’s voice and hesitated.

‘Yes, I’m sorry about that, but as things are…’ he was saying. Then, after a pause, ‘I have to act now…I simply can’t afford to risk waiting…’

She had started to turn away as, his voice brisk and determined, he went on, ‘I certainly hope so…Straight away, all being well…Now, I’d better get moving…Yes, I’ll do that…Bye.’

The door opened abruptly and he came striding out. His dark face more than a little tense, he said, ‘I was just coming to look for you. About ready to go?’

‘Yes.’ Whatever the trip to Castle Anders brought, it was something she felt impelled to do.

His face relaxing into a smile, he said, ‘That’s good,’ and put a hand at her waist.

Just that light touch seemed to brand her through her clothing.

‘As it’s a Saturday morning and the traffic’s often bad,’ he went on, ‘it might take us longer than usual to get there. But we can always have lunch on the way—’ Seeing her case, he stopped speaking abruptly.

Quickly, before she could weaken, she explained, ‘I’ve brought my belongings in the hope that when we get back to London you’ll be kind enough to drop me at a hotel.’

‘Of course,’ he agreed smoothly, ‘if you’re sure that’s what you want.’

Outside, the sky was a Mediterranean blue and it was warm and sunny, with a return to the Indian summer they had been enjoying. A balmy breeze carried the scent of late roses and somewhere close at hand a bird sang, turning town into country.

The sleek silver Porsche was standing by the kerb with a dark blue limousine drawn up behind it and Jervis—stocky and middle-aged—standing by.

Handing the chauffeur Tina’s case, Richard said, ‘I’ve decided to drive myself, so you can put that in the Porsche, garage the limo and take the rest of the day off.’