The Hostage Bride

‘Stop this car! Stop it at once!’

She had no hope that he would obey her but still it twisted every nerve to see how determinedly he ignored her, the total lack of response he made.

‘I said, stop!’

But even as she spoke a sudden hope flared. They were approaching a particularly tricky bend. The car would have to slow down to manoeuvre round it. If she could just get the door open… Carefully she edged forward, inching her fingers onto the handle.

‘It’s locked.’

The words scythed through her hopes in an instant, cutting them off completely. Once more her gaze went to the mirror, meeting that knowing look with a sense of appalled horror.

‘Central locking,’ he supplied helpfully.

With a gesture he indicated a button on the door at his side.

‘You can’t get out until I let you out.’

It was foolish she knew but just for a second she ignored him. She had to. She couldn’t just give in without a fight.

But no matter how hard she tugged and twisted, the door handle remained stubbornly unmoveable and at last she had to abandon the futile struggle and sit back again.

‘You might as well give up and make it easy on yourself.’

Disturbingly, his voice sounded almost gentle, and he had actually managed to inject into it a faint note of concern—one that she had no doubt at all was in no way sincere.

‘We have a long journey ahead of us and you’ll only cause yourself more distress if you keep this up.’

‘A long journey? Where are we going?’

But her attempt to sound artless and innocent didn’t slip past his defences as she had hoped. Instead it earned her another of those slanting glances, half sardonically amused, half reproachful of the fact that she might think he would believe her.

‘You’ll find out when we get there,’ he tossed over his shoulder. ‘So why don’t you sit back and enjoy the ride?’

‘Enjoying myself is the furthest thing from my mind!’

‘Well, yes…’

He moved his broad shoulders in a shrug that revealed his total indifference to her retort.

‘But you’ll be a lot more comfortable—and safer—if you sit back, fasten your seatbelt and try to relax.’

He was negotiating a roundabout as he spoke and, reading the road signs, Felicity saw that they were heading for the motorway that led away from her hometown and directly to London.

‘You’re taking a risk, aren’t you?’ she said sharply. ‘I can read—and I can see where we’re heading.’

Another indifferent shrug was his only response. Was he really so confident that he didn’t care if she guessed at the route he was taking?

‘Doesn’t that worry you?’

‘Should it?’ he drawled and, as if to emphasise how little he cared, he finally pulled off the peaked chauffeur’s cap and tossed it onto the seat beside him, raking one tanned hand through the sleek darkness of the hair he had revealed. Then glancing up into the mirror again, he grinned widely and wickedly just once, straight into her watchful grey eyes.

Felicity’s heart kicked wildly, banging hard against her ribs and she bit down sharply on her lower lip, trying to hold back the cry of shock that almost escaped her.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair! A man like this Rico—a man who had abducted her for who knew what reasons, who had invaded her life and turned it upside down—should at least look on the outside in some way that revealed the darkness of his inner heart. But in his case it was quite the opposite.

She could only see just one small part of his face reflected in the mirror but even like that, foreshortened and distorted, he had the sort of potent good looks that hit home like a punch right in her stomach.

The smooth olive skin, dark eyes and shining jet black silk of his hair all combined with strongly carved cheekbones, impossibly lush curling eyelashes and that sweetly sensual mouth to create the most forceful blueprint of purely masculine beauty she had ever seen.

She couldn’t drag her eyes away but stared, transfixed, until Rico glanced in her direction once more and caught her stunned gaze. Ashamed at being caught watching him, she looked away sharply, staring down at her hands in pained embarrassment.

‘You really should fasten that seatbelt.’ This time his tone made it plain that she’d do better to obey. ‘We’ll be hitting the motorway traffic soon and, while you might be prepared to put your life on the line by flouting the law, I would prefer that you were sensible.’

I would prefer that you were sensible. Did that mean that whatever his plans for her were they didn’t include actually harming her? She couldn’t tell…but rather than risk any further argument she reached for the seatbelt as instructed and pushed it firmly into the holder, relieved to find that her hands were as steady as she could have wished, betraying nothing of her inner turmoil.

‘Rico what?’ she asked as he turned the car onto the feed road to the motorway, the powerful vehicle increasing speed effortlessly at the slightest touch on the accelerator. ‘I take it you do have a surname?’

‘Just Rico will do.’ His attention was on the road as he indicated, steered skilfully out into the traffic.

‘I can find out, you know. Edward will tell me.’

A sign on the side of the road flashed past as she spoke, barely giving her time to register what was written on it. But, as realisation dawned, sudden inspiration struck, giving her an idea.

‘In fact, I’m surprised you ever thought you’d get away with this,’ she went on, talking to fill the silence, to distract him while she thought back over the scheme that had just occurred to her, considering her options, trying to decide if it would work. ‘You must know I’d report you. That I’d tell Mr Venables.’

She didn’t even know if he’d heard her. Not by so much as a blink of an eyelid did he betray any reaction but remained as silent and stony faced as a statue carved from marble.

‘Even if this is just some sort of practical joke, he won’t stand for this behaviour in one of his employees. You’ll lose your job.’

Something gave him away that time. Some small, sideways slanting look, a flicker of those unbelievable eyelashes. Suddenly the truth dawned on her with an appalling sinking feeling deep in her stomach as if she had just swallowed a heavy, leaden weight.

‘It isn’t a job, is it?’ she asked hollowly. ‘I mean, not your job. You don’t work for Edward Venables, do you?’

‘I’d sooner crawl down this motorway on my hands and knees,’ Rico declared and the brutal vehemence of his tone left her in no doubt that he meant what he said. A cold shiver slithered down her spine at the realisation that what lay behind that forceful declaration was a powerful antipathy that she would have to describe as nothing less than hatred.

‘So this is about Edward, not me?’

And not, it seemed, about her father. Which was a relief because, after all the trouble Joe Hamilton had got himself into lately, at least he hadn’t got himself entangled with this brigand of a man.

‘Does that mean you’re not going to…?’

She couldn’t complete the sentence as another realisation rushed into her head, erasing her earlier train of thought.

‘I have no intention of hurting you, if that’s what you mean,’ Rico put in, misunderstanding the reasons for her silence.

No, but he could ruin her life just as easily without even touching her, Felicity reflected unhappily. If she didn’t turn up at the cathedral or at the very least let Edward know that it wasn’t through her own choice that she wasn’t there, he would wreak his vengeance on her father. Joe’s crimes would be exposed, and she would have put herself through all this for nothing.

And the effect on her mother was one she couldn’t even bear to think about.

The appearance of another roadside sign announcing the approach of the motorway services reminded her of her plan of a few moments earlier. It was now or never.

‘I’m thirsty!’ she announced and the way that her voice cracked on the words gave a conviction to her words. ‘It’s so hot—I really could do with a drink.’

‘If you look in front of you, there’s a cupboard—it’s a small bar, actually. There are some plastic bottles of mineral water in there.’

‘Oh, but—’

This wasn’t at all what she’d had in mind. What she’d wanted was…

‘You didn’t really think I was going to pull in to the services and let you out, did you?’ Infuriatingly, Rico seemed to have been able to read her mind. ‘It’s the water or nothing, sweetheart.’

‘I’m not your sweetheart!’ Felicity growled ungraciously, furious at having been caught out so easily. ‘And I have no intention of drinking anything you’ve provided.’

‘Then you’ll have to stay thirsty,’ Rico returned with cool callousness. ‘I told you I had no intention of harming you.’

‘And I’m supposed to believe that?’

Perversely, her pretence of being thirsty had now become a fact. The sun was beating down on the car and she was uncomfortably aware of the way that for most of the morning her tightly knotted nerves had prevented her from eating or drinking anything but the barest minimum. Just the thought of the cooled water was a temptation she found hard to resist.

‘You could have laced it with anything!’

His sigh was a masterpiece of resigned patience, threaded through with exasperation.

‘I give you my word—’

‘The word of a kidnapper? A brute—a thug?’

In the mirror she saw him roll his eyes, just for a second.

‘How about if I drank some of it myself?’

It was tempting. She really was very thirsty.

He must have seen the doubt in her face, how close she was to weakening, because suddenly he flicked the indicator and moved onto the hard shoulder, slowing the car briefly.

‘Give me the water.’

She could use the bottle as a weapon, Felicity told herself as she opened the bar. She could hit this Rico on the head with it—or shake it hard until the sparkling water was fizzing so wildly that it would explode in his face as soon as he opened it.

But even as the thoughts crossed her mind, she reconsidered them hastily. If she disabled Rico, however briefly, he was still that side of the glass partition and she on the other. The control for the central locking was on his side, and she very much doubted that, even if she opened it to its fullest, she could squeeze through the gap into the front of the car.

And she didn’t dare risk the possible repercussions if she angered him without incapacitating him. He might have given his word not to harm her, but that didn’t mean she was prepared to risk pushing him too far.

‘The water, Felicity.’

Rico had swivelled round in his seat so that he was facing her and a dark strand of warning threaded through his tone.

‘Did I say you could use my Christian name?’ Felicity demanded, knowing she was only being petty, using the complaint as something to hide behind, to disguise the frustration she felt at not being able to get at him in any other way.

‘Señorita Hamilton,’ Rico amended with an elaborate courtesy that only aggravated her already bad mood.

‘Oh, here, take your damn water!’

She thrust the bottle at him ungraciously, trying to avoid the mockery in his dark eyes as she did so.

But not looking into his eyes meant she had to look somewhere and she was horrified by the way that, in spite of her struggle against it, her downbent gaze would keep sliding to the long, tanned line of his throat above the immaculate white collar of his shirt. The movement of his muscles as he tipped back his head, swallowing deeply, held her transfixed and she couldn’t force herself to look away no matter how she tried.

A heat that had nothing to do with the sun outside dried her mouth and throat until they felt like parched sand, her whole body in the grip of a fire that would take so much more than some sips of water to extinguish.

Stop it! she told herself furiously, forcing her eyes shut and screwing them tight. She had to stop thinking this way.

‘Here.’

Rico held the bottle out to her again and she almost snatched it from him. But the realisation of the way that he was observing her, made her pause again and wipe the top of the bottle with over-elaborate care that brought a scowl to his dark face.

Without thinking she gulped down all that was left in the bottle, grateful for the way that it eased the painful dryness that was tormenting her. And as she drank Rico put the car back into gear and rejoined the motorway smoothly, glancing back at her briefly as she sighed her relief.

‘Better?’

‘Much better, thank you.’

It was amazing how much difference just a drink could make. She felt completely refreshed, much more relaxed. The few moments’ pause had given her time to collect herself, gather her thoughts. In fact if she could just work out where they were heading, maybe she could outsmart this man yet.

Buoyed up by the feeling of exhilaration, she lounged back in her seat, concentrating on looking relaxed in the hope of distracting him, making him think she had switched off. Certainly, the terrible feeling of gripping panic seemed to have ebbed just a bit.

‘You’re not very good at this, are you?’ she asked airily. ‘I guess you’ve never done it before.’

‘And you, I take it, are an expert,’ Rico returned dryly, indicating again and moving out into the overtaking lane.

‘Oh, you don’t have to be an expert to know you’ve made a couple of basic mistakes. For one…’

She held up her left hand, checking the points off on her fingers as she made them.

‘You’ve let me find out too much—your name, for example. If in fact that is your real name.’

‘Perhaps I wanted you to know exactly who I am.’

That was something that hadn’t even crossed Felicity’s mind but now that it had, she was forced to consider it, to wonder just why he might want her to know who he was. It didn’t seem at all logical.

‘And you’ve let me see your face,’ she ticked off another point, trying not to let him see how much he had confused her.

‘What did you expect? That I would wear a mask and sweep you off your feet and carry you away over my shoulder? I would think that your so efficient British police might just have noticed if that had happened.’

That, Felicity had to concede, was distinctly possible. What she was having trouble with was the disturbing images flooding into her mind at the thought of being swept off her feet and into Rico’s arms. A swift, shivering glance at the strong, tanned fingers steering the powerful car with skilful ease made her shudder in uncontrollable response. Her body seemed to be growing soft and unexpectedly pliant, lolling against the soft leather almost as if she was melting in the wanton heat of her thoughts.

‘So what else have you decided I’ve done wrong?’ Rico asked. ‘What other mistakes have I made?’

Apart from the most obvious one of finding the woman he had kidnapped—a woman who was promised to someone else—shockingly attractive? he asked himself. If he had known that she was the Felicity Hamilton he had to hold hostage, wouldn’t he have had severe second thoughts about this whole thing?

‘When I think of more, I’ll let you know.’

She had no intention of telling him the latest, major mistake he had made. That of letting her sit up, wide awake and clear-eyed, in the back of the car, watching every road sign that appeared, noting every indication of the route they were taking. They must stop sometime and then, some way, no matter how, she would find a way of getting in touch with her family and letting them know just where she was.

On their right a car sped past, a young woman in the back seat glancing into the Rolls as they did so, and something about the obvious double-take she made, the expression on her face, made Felicity giggle uncontrollably.

‘What is it now?’

‘I’ve just realised what people are seeing…’

The idea seemed crazily amusing, verging on the hilarious and she hastily put up her hands to hold back another fit of the giggles.

‘I mean—what must it look like?’

She shook her head in bemusement, still grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

‘There’s you—driving off down the motorway—not a church or a chapel anywhere in sight—and me—me—here in the back, all done up in my bridal finery…’

Something about his stillness, the swift glance of those dark eyes up to the mirror to study her closely, made her heart clench on a sudden wave of panic.

What was wrong with her? This man had kidnapped her—abducted her! There was nothing to laugh at, nothing even remotely amusing, about her situation. She should be scared. She was nervous—and yet…

Another attack of the giggles threatened.

‘Thass another mishtake you’ve made. Which is one, two…

Her eyes seemed to have blurred and the finger she tried to count with kept missing the other hand completely.

‘I mean…fancy kidnapping a bride!’

The laughter stopped suddenly, changing to a wide, jaw-cracking yawn. Her eyelids felt heavy and, try as she might, she really couldn’t focus at all. The world was sliding out of balance in the most peculiar way.

‘Lie down, Felicity!’ It was a sharp command from the man in the front of the car. ‘Lie down at once—believe me, you’ll feel much better like that.’

‘Lie…’

Her eyes slid closed; her head drooped like a wilting flower, then abruptly jerked up again. Wide, dazed eyes, their pupils heavy and vastly dark, were turned on him in bitter reproach.

‘What have you done to me?’

‘Go with it, gatita. Don’t try to fight it. It will be easier for you that way.’

Don’t fight it!

Her heart was fluttering frantically like a small, trapped bird beating its wings against a cage. She tried to force her eyes open, managed it just a little but her lids were too heavy.

‘Sleep, little one.’

The low, husky voice was all that she could concentrate on. Blending in with the purr of the car’s engine, it wove a soft smoky spell around her senses.

‘Duerme…’

But she couldn’t sleep. She had to stay awake. She had to…

The effort was too much. With a faint sigh she stopped struggling, slumped back against the seat and slept.

Watching her, Rico clenched his big hands tight over the steering wheel until the knuckles showed white and cursed savagely in his native language.

If there had been any other way… But he had been forced into this—she had forced him into this. She and that fiancé of hers, Edward Venables.

The dark eyes blazed with fury, every muscle clenched taut and he slammed his fist hard against the wheel. Damn Edward Venables! Damn him to hell. Rico already owed that louse for the way he’d treated Maria—and now he owed him for this too. Big time.

CHAPTER THREE

‘MISS Hamilton…Felicity…’

She’d heard that voice before, in her dreams, Felicity thought as she stirred reluctantly. It was the sort of voice that belonged in a dream, low and soft and sexily accented, with a way of turning her name from a simple four-syllable word into a string of poetry just by saying it.

In her dream it had belonged to a fantasy man, too. The sort of man she had never encountered in real life and never would now. Because now she had to wake up. Now she had to face reality, and reality was that today she was obliged to marry Edward Venables. It was either that or see her father go to prison for a long time.

But perhaps she could manage a few moments more in the dream world, she thought, trying to snuggle back down in the bed.

‘Felicity…gatita…wake up.’

She looked like the kitten he had called her, lying there, curled up, soft and sleepy, her head pillowed on her hands, Rico thought unwillingly. She looked delicate and vulnerable in a way that stabbed a knife into his conscience and twisted it hard.

And he couldn’t afford a conscience. Not where she was concerned. Maria’s future, and that of her unborn child, depended on him being strong and dealing with this as he had promised.

‘You can do this for me, can’t you, Rico?’

His half-sister’s voice sounded in the back of his head so clearly that he could almost see her tearstained face before his eyes, feel her hands clutching at his as she pleaded with him.

‘You can see Eddie, tell him he can’t go through with this wedding. That he can’t marry this woman, this Felicity Hamilton…’

She had made it sound so easy, so straightforward. Because to Maria it was straightforward. She wanted this and what she wanted she usually got. But, this time, what Maria wanted had proved unexpectedly difficult to obtain.

Which was why he was here, now, with a half-conscious woman on his hands and a situation that was rapidly running right out of control.

‘Felicity…’

In the back of the car, Felicity Hamilton stirred slightly, frowning faintly, and muttered something in her sleep. The white, soft veil had fallen forward over her face and instinctively he reached forward to move it aside. Then immediately wished he hadn’t.

He doubted if he would ever forget the sense of shock that had hit him straight in the chest when she had appeared outside the house just a few short hours earlier. Whatever else he had been expecting of the Felicity Hamilton described to him by both Maria and the private investigator he had put on the case, it had certainly not been this.

Not this slender, delicate creature whose gentle beauty had knocked him so far off balance that his thought processes had become scrambled. In the end he had only been able to function by forcing himself to concentrate on the plan he had worked out and nothing else.

The picture Maria had painted had been of someone far tougher; someone who knew exactly what she wanted in life and went for it, ignoring anyone who got in the way. Like father, like daughter, she had said. And the detective had been equally damning.

‘She goes straight from work to that nightclub, every night, Mr Valeron. Never home before near dawn.’

But this woman didn’t look anything like the picture he had built up in his mind. Of course, that picture might still be the truth internally; it was just the external appearance that was different. But if that was the case then she had no damn right to be so deceptively lovely—it complicated matters far too much.

‘Señorita…Felicity…’

The voice was back in her dreams, but as she stirred again Felicity found that her bed was nothing like as comfortable as usual. It felt hard and narrow and she was curled up uncomfortably. She was tangled up in something too, something that rustled and confined her, like yards of netting and…

Shock jolted her awake, making her heart slam hard against her ribcage.

This wasn’t a dream. She had fallen asleep and forgotten where she was, but now the reality came rushing back.

‘You!’

Her eyes flew open, wide and dark, the last remnants of the clinging sleep that had enveloped her clearing rapidly as she stared uncertainly up into his face.

‘What did you do to me?’

Crazily, foolishly she actually felt betrayed. He had promised not to harm her and even as the words had left his lying mouth he had been breaking that promise. But what should she have expected from a man who was prepared to commit the crime of kidnapping in order to get his revenge on someone?

‘You drugged me!’

‘The mildest of sedatives only.’

The handsome face revealed no sign of guilt or repentance and the dark chocolate eyes regarded her with cool indifference.

But what had she expected? Pity or concern? She would be all sorts of a blind, deluded fool even to hope for such a thing from this cold-hearted brute.

‘I thought it might help you relax. I had never anticipated that it would have the effect on you that it did.’

No, Felicity thought ruefully. There was no way he could have known that weeks of stress had meant that she hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep for an age. Even the weakest sedative would have knocked her for six, she was so tired.