Читать книгу Taming the Rebel Tycoon: Wife by Approval / Dating the Rebel Tycoon / The Playboy Takes a Wife - Элли Блейк, Ally Blake - Страница 8

ALLalone.

Just for a second Tina had the absurd feeling that she’d walked into a trap.

There had been something in his voice, his choice of words—satisfaction? a touch of menace?—that made her heart start to thump against her ribs and a shiver run through her.

Noticing that betraying movement, Richard glanced down at her. ‘There’s no need to look so scared—’ now his tone was reassuringly normal ‘—I haven’t lured you here to imprison you in the cellar or lock you in the attic…’

Suddenly feeling foolish, she denied, ‘I never thought you had.’

‘Though I do have plans for you.’

The rider, though added jokingly, brought a touch of alarm.

‘Plans?’ she said thickly. ‘What kind of plans?’

He laughed. ‘Don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll like what I have in mind.’

Realising that he was teasing her, her head spinning, she let it go.

He carried her easily and when they reached the top of the stairs there was still no sign of him being out of breath.

As well as strong, he must be very fit.

Virile was the word that sprang to mind. It was a word that immediately produced some erotic images…

Shocked by her own thoughts, she told herself hazily that this wasn’t like her. It must be alcohol swamping her inhibitions. Normally she drank very little and the amount she’d had tonight, some of it on an empty stomach, had gone straight to her head. As he crossed the landing and fumbled briefly to open her bedroom door, everything began to whirl gently round her and she closed her eyes.

Crossing to the bed, he pulled back the duvet and laid her down, supporting her head while he unfastened the clip that held her heavy coil of hair in place.

As the silken mass tumbled around her shoulders, he settled her head on the pillows and, sitting down beside her, slipped off her shoes.

She lay like a beautiful doll, her eyes closed, the long lashes making dark gold fans on her cheeks, her soft lips a little parted, the lovely creamy column of her throat exposed, vulnerable.

It was obvious that the alcohol had done its work too well and she was almost out for the count.

Frowning, he realised that she couldn’t be as used to drinking as he’d been led to believe. It had been his intention to get rid of any possible inhibitions, not to make her practically incapable and he felt like a heel.

However, he couldn’t afford too many scruples. Everything he held dear was at stake. If he’d been certain she would be reasonable…

But he couldn’t be certain. It would depend entirely on what kind of woman she really was, and he wouldn’t know that until he knew her better.

By that time it would be too late.

So he needed to go through with it.

As he made the decision, she opened her eyes.

Smiling down at her, he started to undo the buttons of her dress.

He had reached her waist when, pushing herself up groggily and brushing his hands away, she said hoarsely, ‘It’s all right…I can manage.’

‘Sure?’

‘Quite sure.’

‘But you would like me to stay.’ He made it sound as if it had all been decided.

The true answer was yes.

But even in her tipsy state she knew that all he wanted was a one-night stand and, making an effort to stick with her long-held principles, she started to shake her head.

It was a mistake and, as the world began to spin once more, she closed her eyes and mumbled, ‘I’d like you to go.’

‘Then I’ll say goodnight.’ He leaned forward and kissed her.

The light pressure of his lips against hers was enough to make her sink back against the pillows.

His mouth still keeping contact, he followed her down and, when her lips parted helplessly, he deepened the kiss until her head was whirling even more and her whole being melted.

Without conscious volition, her arms went round his neck and she was holding on to him as if he were the only stable object worth anything in her world…

Her brain came to life slowly, consciousness ebbing and flowing. As she lay with closed eyes, she became aware that she was unusually warm and comfortable on the rather uncomfortable put-you-up.

And, what was even more unusual, her hair was loose around her shoulders—normally she braided it—and she was naked. Why wasn’t she wearing her nightdress? Unable to think, she let the thought go and drifted off again.

It was the sound of a shower running that eventually began to penetrate her stupefied state.

Ruth must be up early this morning. Usually she was last in the bathroom, preferring to breakfast in her dressing gown even on a weekday.

But surely this was the weekend? Hadn’t it been Friday yesterday?

Friday the thirteenth and everything had gone wrong…

Like a tide carrying flotsam, the events of the day washed into her mind and for a moment or two she sorted dazedly through them until she found the one thing that mattered above all else.

She had met Richard Anders.

The recollection banished sleep and focused her attention. A moment later, memory filled in the details with a rush.

The car accident, the invitation to go home with him, the drive to Pemberley Square, his kiss in the study, dinner together, brandy in front of the fire…Then him carrying her upstairs after saying with a strange intonation in his voice, ‘So you see we’re all alone.’

He had taken her into her room, laid her on the bed and kissed her goodnight…

But she had a vague memory of wanting him to stay, of kissing him back and putting her arms around his neck…Her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright.

She was briefly aware that the room was light, sunshine slanting in through a gap in the curtains, then, the sudden movement making her head spin, she groaned and, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, pressed her fingertips to her temples.

‘Headache?’ a male voice asked sympathetically.

She opened her eyes again to find Richard just emerging from the bathroom. His dark, attractively rumpled hair was still damp from the shower and he hadn’t a stitch on.

The sight of that beautifully toned male body with its muscular chest and lean hips, its trim waist and taut belly, made her heart lurch wildly and her stomach tighten.

Oh, but he was gorgeous. A superb male animal.

As she gaped at him speechlessly, he strolled over and, bending, kissed her lightly on the lips as if he had every right.

As if they were lovers.

Which, no doubt, they were, otherwise what was he doing in her room stark naked?

Transfixed by the thought, she froze.

When, sitting still as a statue, she failed to respond to his kiss, he looked at her appraisingly, trying to sum her up.

He knew what kind of woman she was and, though he was sure that she wanted him, she wasn’t acting as he would have expected. Most of the women he had known would have twined their arms around his neck and done their best to coax him back to bed.

But, instead of trying to look seductive, she looked positively embarrassed, as if she wasn’t used to sleeping around.

Had she reacted like those other women, he would have accepted the invitation. Even first thing in the morning and with a hangover, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Her neck was long and slender, her breasts small and firm, with dusky-pink velvety nipples that he felt the urge to stroke with his tongue…

Realising that his eyes were fixed appreciatively on her breasts, in a panicky reflex action she jerked up the duvet to cover her nakedness.

A gleam of amusement in his eyes, he said, ‘I’ll get you something for that headache.’

As he turned and walked to the door, she caught her breath at the seductive back view of his tall, well-built figure.

His skin, with its golden all-over tan, was clear and glowed with health, his shoulders were broad, his buttocks firm, his long legs strong and straight. The line of his spine was elegant. Even the back of his neck, with the damp hair trying to curl a little into his nape, was sexy.

The thought of the housekeeper catching sight of him leaving her room naked made Tina exclaim, ‘But what will Mrs Baxter think if she—’

Further amused by this show of propriety, he turned and said, ‘I’m not expecting her home for a while. I told her I’d rustle up some breakfast and she could take as much time as she needed. So no doubt she’ll stay and feed her flock.’

Grinning, he added, ‘By the time she gets back, rather than shock her, I’ll be dressed and my bed will look suitably slept in.’

A second later the latch clicked and he was gone.

With a strange hollow sensation in the pit of her stomach that she identified as shame, Tina sat and stared at the closed door.

Last night she had obviously waved goodbye to her principles and enjoyed what Ruth had called ‘one of life’s most wonderful experiences’ and she couldn’t remember a thing.

Now, as well as feeling ashamed, she felt cheated.

If she hadn’t had too much to drink…

But if she hadn’t had too much to drink, she reminded herself grimly, she wouldn’t have slept with him in the first place.

She knew from the way her contemporaries talked that that kind of thing wasn’t uncommon, but she had never expected it to happen to her.

Well, now it had and it was too late. What was done couldn’t be undone. She would just have to live with the shame.

She bit her lip.

If they had known and loved one another it would have been different…Or if there’d been any promise of a serious relationship…

But neither of those things applied.

It had been purely and simply a one-night stand. On his part, at least.

From a kaleidoscope of emotions, anger and dismay and regret at her own behaviour stood out.

She almost wished she could say he’d taken advantage of her but, recalling the way she had put her arms round his neck and clung to him, in all honesty she couldn’t.

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.