Читать книгу Modern Romance April 2015 Books 1-8 - Линн Грэхем, Annie West - Страница 37

CHAPTER TWELVE

HE RODE OUT with his collar turned up against the persistent drizzle, his jaw tightly clenched at the prospect of returning to an empty house.

Why hadn’t he filed a flight plan? Any day without Danny was a damp, drizzly day, and she had been gone for over a month. In all that time no one had asked him about his missing bride. No one had dared to question him.

He had dealt with the yawning gap in his life by working longer hours and playing more polo. He had made improvements to the ranch and that had made him even angrier, wondering if Danny would like what he’d done. What did anything matter now?

She would always matter.

His security team had reported that, preferring to stand on her own feet rather than return to her old job at Rottingdean, Danny was now working as a Jack of all trades at a local stable close by the house in Scotland where she had worked for Lizzie’s family. He respected Danny’s wish to find herself, to be her own person, but respect didn’t mean he was giving up on their relationship.

Yes. Relationship. They might have been married for only five minutes, but the bond between them was stronger than any piece of paper they had signed to silence his grandfather’s lawyers.

Reining in, he turned for home. If he cared so much about Danny why was he still here?

* * *

He piloted the jet, but even he couldn’t make it fly faster. He swore viciously at the thought of the time he’d wasted. But they were both stubborn, and Danny was still locked in the past. He appreciated that she needed time, but when had he ever hesitated before when he’d cared about something as much as this? He should have told her every detail from the start. Then she would not only have known the facts, she would also have known how he intended to deal with them. Instead he had tried to protect her, when what Danny needed was love and respect—not coddling.

He touched down in Scotland and leapt into the four-wheel drive he’d hired. He didn’t wait. He didn’t rest. He didn’t sleep. Anticipation at the thought of seeing Danny was all it took to keep him wide awake.

He drove straight from the airport to the farm where she was working. He might have guessed it would be in a remote glen. Was she going to hide away here for the rest of her life?

His heart gripped tight when he spotted her. He hadn’t expected it to be so easy, but she was working with a young colt in an outdoor arena. He climbed out of the vehicle and stood watching. He smiled, noticing how much she had learned from his training methods. He felt good about that, though standing back like this was an acute type of torture. And it was no more than he deserved.

The rampaging polo player the press talked about—the man who collected women like fine wine, drank deep and moved on—was in love. He’d only had to see Danny again to know how deeply he loved her. His life was meaningless without her. He’d missed her every waking hour, and had lain awake each night thinking about her.

There’d been gossip since they’d parted. He couldn’t expect the press to ignore the facts. ‘Marriage is not for Tiago Santos!’ one of the reporters for a red-top had crowed, no doubt rejoicing in his misery. Danny must have read that article. And, yes, their marriage was unusual, but Danny wasn’t just any bride—she was his bride. She was the only bride he could ever want. The only woman he would ever want.

He tensed as she stilled, and wondered if she’d sensed him. Whatever Danny liked to think, they were keenly tuned to each other. Did she know he’d come to find her?

She turned slowly and stared straight at him. The wealth of feeling inside him as their stares held was indescribable. He stood motionless, absorbing every detail of her as she turned back to the pony and, saying something, stroked its ears. Leaving the arena, she closed the gate and walked towards him. With every step she took he grew more certain that they belonged together, and that he would do anything it took to make this right.

He slanted her a smile as she walked up to him. ‘How are you?’

‘Good.’

She was pale, he thought as she studied his face intently.

‘How are you, Tiago?’

‘I’m fine.’

She didn’t sound fine, and instead of taking the single step that would bring her into his arms she remained a few paces back, staring at him as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.

‘What brings you to the Highlands?’

Her voice, with its soft Scottish burr, rolled over him like a familiar pleasure—one he’d missed more than he could say. He had never felt so alert or more aware of Danny, more alive.

‘I’m visiting old friends.’

‘Chico and Lizzie?’ She frowned. ‘I didn’t realise there were any upcoming polo matches.’

‘Do I need an excuse?’

‘So you’ve come here to train with Chico?’ she guessed, searching his face.

‘I’m here to see you, Danny.’

She collected her breath quickly and exhaled raggedly. Her breath clouded in front of her face as they faced each other.

‘I’ve stayed away for as long as I’m prepared to.’

‘I thought we agreed—?’

‘I didn’t agree to anything,’ he cut in. ‘You left me. Remember? You wanted time to get your head together. I’ve given you time.’

‘Are you here because of what they’ve started saying about us in the press?’

‘Don’t insult me.’

Biting her lip, she replied, ‘They’re saying our marriage was on the rocks before it began. But if you think I started that rumour—’

‘I don’t think that. And I’m not worried about what people think. Our marriage is our business. And, before you ask, no one can touch the ranch. The deeds are in my vault and that’s where they will stay. So, you see, I am no longer in the market for a “convenient bride”.’

She smiled a little, hearing her own words thrown back at her. ‘So why are you here?’

‘We’ve been apart long enough. Everyone on the ranch misses you. Lizzie and Chico wonder why they don’t see more of you. You’ve shut yourself away here. Lizzie misses you, Annie misses you—Deus, Danny, I miss you.’

He hadn’t realised how much.

‘Come back to us,’ he said softly.

She remained silent and he looked around the rundown farm, with its broken fencing, peeling paintwork and neglected yard.

‘I don’t know what this proves. You must be working an eighteen-hour shift just to keep things on an even keel here.’

She firmed her jaw, but didn’t deny anything he’d said.

‘No one doubts you can stand on your own two feet, but why isolate yourself like this? Why are you punishing yourself, Danny?’

‘I’m making a life,’ she said simply. ‘And I’m doing it without your money. I’m sure Lizzie understands why I must do this.’

‘Lizzie might understand, but it doesn’t stop her worrying about you. Is that fair? I don’t understand you, Danny. I don’t understand why you’ve separated yourself from people who care so much about you. I don’t understand why you’re pushing us all away.’

‘You’ve no right to discuss me with Lizzie.’

‘I’ve got every right. We care about you. Is that such an alien concept to you?’

‘It is where you’re concerned. I’ve never known you to express your feelings before.’

‘And you’re so open with yours?’

She turned, restless, uncertain, hovering, as if she wanted to go but also wanted to stay. ‘Thank you for coming to see me,’ she said at last. ‘I do appreciate your concern—’

‘For God’s sake, Danny, I’m not the local doctor. I’m your husband.’

‘Of one night,’ she said. ‘And I know this farm doesn’t look much, but I enjoy my work here.’

‘You’d enjoy any job with a horse attached to it. Is this a permanent position?’

Lifting her chin, she peeled off her riding gloves and blew onto her cold red hands. ‘Nothing’s permanent—is it, Tiago?’

Shaking his head, he ignored the jibe. At any other time he would have seized those hands and put them inside his jacket, so his blood could heat hers, but Danny was like an edgy colt that might bolt if he made any sudden movement.

Undaunted, he asked, ‘How about lunch in town?’

She looked at him as if he were mad.

He shrugged. ‘I’m hungry. It’s nearly lunchtime. And it’s far too cold to hold our reunion here.’

‘But what would we have to talk about?’

He had to remind himself that he had vowed to take this slowly.

‘I’m sure we’ll think of something.’

* * *

The only possible reason she could come up with for sitting in the sedate hush of the Rottingdean tea rooms with a barbarian, whose face was coated in thick black stubble and whose brilliant smile made the elderly waitress primp and simper, was that it wasn’t possible to ignore her husband when he was in town. Tiago had come all the way from Brazil, she reminded herself, and she owed him the common courtesy of a conversation—if only in the hope that they could find some sort of closure.

‘Do you have to do that?’ she demanded—an unreasonable demand, she registered a split second after the words left her mouth, as Tiago removed his jacket.

Just revealing the powerful spread of his shoulders was enough for her awareness of him to soar into the stratosphere. She would challenge anyone to spend the night with Tiago and then just blank it from their mind.

‘You take it off, laddie,’ one of the elderly waitresses advised, endorsing Danny’s opinion that in this sun-starved land Tiago Santos was a rare treat. ‘You’ll never feel the benefit when you go outside if you don’t take your jacket off,’ she commented approvingly, and a dozen or so more women turned their heads to stare at the splendid sight of Tiago, whose powerful frame was clad in the finest black Scottish cashmere.

With a warm smile at the waitress, Tiago raised a brow as he turned to Danny.

‘You wanted to hear about my place of work?’ She judged that a safe enough topic to start off with.

‘Go ahead.’ Smiling faintly, he looked down as he attempted to ease his legs beneath the dainty table without sending it crashing to the floor.

‘You’re too big for here,’ she said as she steadied the teapot.

‘Too big for civilised company?’

She buried her face in her teacup.

‘So?’ he pressed with a faint strand of amusement in his voice when she failed to answer him. ‘This farm where you’re working...?’

‘It’s a tenancy,’ Danny revealed, looking up now they were back on safe ground. ‘The landlord lives off-site. He owns several similar properties, and he has asked if I would consider managing all of them for him.’

‘Has he indeed?’ Tiago’s jaw tightened.

‘There’s no need to sound so suspicious. He’s old enough to be my grandfather and due to retire any time now. More tea?’

Tiago’s eyes narrowed at her prim tone, drawing her attention to the fact that he was twice the size of any man in the tea room. His hair was thicker, blacker, wavier and more unruly. And you could take it as a flat-out fact that there wasn’t another man in the place wearing a gold earring. Local skin was blue-white—freckled, in her case—while Tiago’s skin was swarthy, and she was quite sure there wasn’t a man in a fifty-mile radius who could boast anything close to his physique.

‘I feel like a giant, trying to fit my frame into this chair.’

She was forced to smile when he eased his position gingerly. ‘You’ll break it if you move too suddenly,’ she warned.

Dipping his head, he stared up at her in a way that sent heat to every part of her body. It was impossible to remain immune to Tiago’s particular brand of charm, and impossible to forget how it felt to be held in his arms. And now every woman in the place was staring at him.

‘I won’t catch you if you fall,’ she warned him when he tipped his chair back.

‘You’ve already caught me, chica.’

Tiago’s murmur and that black stare fixed onto hers made her think of one thing only—and it wasn’t tea.

‘Are you ready to go?’ he said.

She was about to leave when the bell tinkled over the door and Hamish, the gamekeeper, and his crew walked in. She was glad of the distraction, and surprised when Hamish acknowledged Tiago as if they were old friends—but then she remembered that they would have met at Chico’s.

‘Are you okay, Danny?’ Hamish asked gruffly.

‘Yes. Thank you.’

After the two men had exchanged greetings, and Hamish had gone to find a table, Tiago turned to her. ‘Come to dinner with me tonight.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘You will be if you refuse me,’ he threatened with a wicked smile.

She gave him a warning look that didn’t deter him at all. ‘Are you asking me out?’

‘That’s exactly what I’m doing,’ Tiago confirmed.

His lips pressed down, drawing her attention to the fact that he was badly in need of a shave—as usual. Imagining that stubble scraping her skin was a breath-stealing reminder of how it had felt when he kissed her.

‘It’s harmless,’ he said. ‘We’re married, and I’m in town.’

Nothing was harmless where Tiago was concerned, but she couldn’t bring herself to let him go yet. ‘I have to eat, and so do you. Why not?’

Why not? She could think of a thousand reasons why not. Discarding them all, she allowed her imagination to run riot for a moment... Screaming with pleasure in Tiago’s arms would be preferable to sitting across a table from him...

‘Danny?’

She pulled herself round fast and smiled into his eyes. ‘So you’re asking me out on a date?’

Tiago frowned slightly. ‘I suppose I am.’ But his eyes were dancing with laughter too.

It would be all right. She would confine herself to chatting about people they knew. She would keep the conversation, as well as everything else, on safe ground.

‘Stop frowning, Danny. It’s a meal and a catch-up, and then I’ll take you home.’

Now she just had to convince herself that that was exactly what she wanted. ‘That sounds good,’ she agreed. ‘Yes,’ she said softly.

Tiago smiled his bad-boy smile. ‘You do know that a candlelit dinner is usually a prelude to sex?’

‘If you think that’s going to tip the balance—’ She stopped, noticing that the respectable townsfolk at the tables surrounding them were listening in with avid interest.

‘I think they like me,’ Tiago murmured, with amusement in his dark eyes.

She sucked in a sharp breath as he lifted her hand to his lips.

‘Stop,’ she warned him, pulling her hand back. ‘I’ve agreed to supper—nothing more.’

‘That’s all I’m offering,’ Tiago assured her. ‘Sex isn’t on the menu tonight.’

Now she was hit by doubt. Why didn’t he want sex? Had Tiago found someone else? She felt sick at the thought.

‘If this is another of your games...’

Leaning across the table until their faces almost touched, he whispered, ‘The only game I play is polo.’

‘Is it?’ She was still tense.

‘Although I do have a repertoire of games that don’t require a horse and a mallet to make them fun.’

She made an incredulous sound as Tiago sat back with a confident smile on his face. He continued to regard her steadily, his amused black stare warming her, and even when he looked away to call for the bill a sweet pulse of desire throbbed deep inside her.