Читать книгу Modern Romance Collection: August 2017 Books 5 -8 - Шантель Шоу, Jennie Lucas - Страница 14
ОглавлениеELIN WATCHED CORTEZ ease his tall frame into the low-slung sports car parked on the drive and slammed the front door shut as if she were shutting out the devil. She released her breath on a shuddering sigh and leaned against the solid wooden door for support while she replayed the unbelievable scene in the library over in her mind.
She did not know what was most shocking: Ralph’s will which stipulated that she must marry before she could claim her inheritance, or that Ralph’s natural son and heir was Cortez Ramos—the father of her baby son, who had been conceived as a result of her night of shame.
Harry was the innocent one in all of this. With a low cry, she ran across the hall and up the sweeping staircase. Her suite of rooms, including the nursery, were in the east wing of the house. Cuckmere Hall had been her home since she was four years old and the possibility that Cortez might turn it into a hotel felt like another stab of a knife into her already mortally wounded heart.
The sound of her son’s cries drove every other thought from her mind as she flew across the nursery and lifted him out of his cot. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart. Mummy’s here,’ she crooned softly, feeling a familiar clench of emotion when Harry buried his face in her neck and his cries subsided to little snuffles.
‘I was just preparing his next feed,’ the nanny explained, hurrying into the room from the private kitchen. ‘Do you want me to give it to him?’
‘No, I will.’ Elin held out her hand for the bottle of formula and quashed a flicker of jealousy of the nanny. Barbara Lennox had proved to be invaluable and she had also become a trusted friend.
Elin had not planned to hire a nanny. But she had been desperately ill after giving birth to Harry and when she had finally left hospital and returned to Cuckmere Hall with her newborn son, Jarek had told her that he had employed Barbara temporarily while Elin regained her strength. Suffering a life-threatening haemorrhage moments after the birth had been a terrifying ordeal and, despite having been given two blood transfusions, she’d still felt weak and exhausted. To make matters worse, she’d then developed a serious kidney infection and had been too ill to be able to take care of her baby.
Barbara had turned down another job offer to stay and help look after Harry. It occurred to Elin that she would no longer be able to afford to employ a nanny now that Ralph had left her nothing in his will. She hadn’t felt a sense of entitlement, as Cortez had implied, but for twenty-two years she had regarded Ralph as her father and she was deeply hurt by the evidence that he had not cared about her.
She settled herself in a chair and felt a pang of guilt when Harry nuzzled his face against her breast and tried to suckle. ‘Here you are,’ she murmured, offering him the teat of the bottle. It was a lasting sadness that she had been unable to breastfeed him because of the strong antibiotics she’d had to take to fight the kidney infection, but Barbara had assured her that Harry was thriving on formula milk.
He was now just over three months old and he had a surprisingly strong grip when he curled his chubby fist around her finger. She couldn’t resist kissing his downy cheek and silky black hair. He stared up at her with his big eyes that were already changing from dark blue to an even darker brown flecked with gold that reminded her of Cortez’s eyes.
She could insist on a DNA test to prove that Cortez was Harry’s father, but what would be the point? she thought wearily. Cortez did not want his son and she would not demean herself by pursuing him through the courts for a maintenance pay-out. Harry was her responsibility and she was prepared to bring him up on her own. At least she would have somewhere for them to live. Rose and Ivy Cottages were tucked away on a remote part of the Cuckmere estate. She knew Jarek would insist she took ownership of whichever cottage was in the best condition. He rarely came to east Sussex and when he was in England he stayed at his London penthouse apartment, but most of the time he lived in Japan, where he worked as head derivatives trader for Saunderson’s Bank.
She would have to look for another job. Elin chewed on her lower lip as the harsh reality of her situation sank in. Marriage was not an option. She did not have a prospective husband handily available and, even if she could bear to force herself onto the dating scene, she was a single parent with no money or prospects and she was hardly a great catch. But it meant that under the terms of Ralph’s will Cortez would inherit one hundred per cent of Saunderson’s Wines.
The pain that had lodged beneath her breastbone following her mother’s death gave a sharp tug with the realisation that she would not be able to fulfil Lorna Saunderson’s dream of producing a top quality English wine from Cuckmere’s vineyards that Lorna herself had planted.
It was conceivable that Cortez would allow her to continue in her role as production manager of the winery, but she did not relish the thought of working for him. Not if there was a chance she might see him regularly. She could not risk it when he had such a powerful effect on her. She pictured his handsome face: the chiselled cheekbones and square jaw, those dark, almost black eyes with their golden flecks and his wickedly sensual mouth that promised heaven—and delivered. Oh, boy, did it deliver.
Memories she’d blanked out for over a year filled her mind. His lips on hers, the way he had plundered her soul and ravished her senses with his devastating kiss. Until today she’d convinced herself that her outrageous behaviour on the night of her birthday party had been the result of her drink being spiked with a date-rape drug by one of the other guests. But when she had seen Cortez in the library at the reading of Ralph’s will, her body had betrayed her and forced her to acknowledge the shameful truth. She had fallen into bed with him a year ago because she’d seen him across a crowded room and she’d wanted him so badly it had hurt.
She had ignored the voice in her head which warned her that a man as lethally attractive as him was way out of her league. He had stolen her breath and her sanity and all that had been left of her was a burning need to feel his arms around her, his mouth against her mouth, his body on her body. Damning memories of having sex with Cortez came storming back and her treacherous body betrayed her all over again. Her nipples tightened and the quiver she felt low in her stomach was a shameful reminder that she had behaved like a slut at her birthday party.
But her night of shame had resulted in her son. Harry finished his bottle and Elin held him against her shoulder while she winded him. Her heart turned over when he gave her a gummy smile. She would never regret having him even though she regretted the circumstances of his conception. She loved him so much and she vowed that as he grew up she would protect her son from the painful truth that his father had refused to acknowledge him.
She told herself it would be best if she forgot that Cortez Ramos existed but, after she had changed Harry’s nappy and settled him in his cot, she found herself in front of her computer searching for Cortez’s profile on social media sites. His biography revealed that he had spent his childhood living with his mother on a small vineyard in Andalucía. After graduating from university with a first-class business degree he had worked for one of Spain’s largest banks and quickly proved he was a brilliant financier. His rise through the ranks to the position of CEO of Hernandez Bank had been meteoric.
It was no wonder that Ralph had chosen his illegitimate son to be chairman of Saunderson’s Bank over his adopted son, Elin thought heavily. Ralph had been concerned that Jarek was too much of a risk-taker and it was an opinion shared by many of the board of directors, who would no doubt be very happy to have Cortez as the head of the bank.
His success was not confined to banking. He had earned a reputation as a skilled viticulturist, and at his vineyards and bodega near the town of Jerez de la Frontera he specialised in producing exceptionally fine sherry. Five years ago, Cortez had formed a partnership with an international sherry company to produce and export specialist sherries around the world. The business, Felipe & Cortez, had become so successful that he was reputedly a multimillionaire.
Elin was deep in thought as she switched off the computer. Her mind went blank for a moment when her phone rang and she answered a call from a catering company who wanted to discuss arrangements for the party that was to take place at Cuckmere Hall.
‘Oh, yes, the event is definitely going ahead,’ she confirmed to the caterers. The party was to raise funds for a charity organisation that she, Jarek and Ralph had established after Lorna Saunderson’s death. Lorna’s Gift aimed to support children living in orphanages around the world, and the many celebrities who had been invited to the party were likely to make huge donations to the charity.
Elin was sure her adoptive father would have wanted her to hold the party. But Cortez was now the owner of Cuckmere Hall and she did not have time to find another suitable venue. He had told her before he’d left for his business meeting in London that he did not plan to return to Sussex for some time. There was a good chance he would never find out that the party had taken place. Her conscience felt uncomfortable, but she reminded herself that the charity was already making a difference to the lives of orphaned children and it might be her last chance to hold a major fund-raising event before she had to leave Cuckmere Hall.
* * *
What if Elin had told him the truth?
The question had haunted Cortez when he’d driven away from Cuckmere Hall, and uncertainty had continued to plague him for the past two days while he’d had meetings with the board and management team of Saunderson’s Bank. He had dismissed Elin’s claim that he was the father of her child because he was ninety-nine per cent certain she was lying. But that left a one per cent possibility that it was true.
His conscience pricked that he had rejected her claim outright and rushed away from Cuckmere because he hadn’t trusted himself around her. She unsettled him in a way no other woman had ever done and he resented the effect she had on him. But he needed to rule out the slim chance he had a son, which was why, instead of spending a relaxing evening at the house in Kensington, he had driven down the motorway back to Sussex in the pouring rain that at times had turned to sleet.
Cuckmere Hall was a beacon of blazing lights against the black sky. When Cortez turned the car through the gates of the estate he was surprised to see dozens of vehicles parked on the driveway in front of the house. He was tired, which was perhaps understandable after the bizarre last few days, when he’d learned that the man he struggled to think of as his father had bequeathed him the chairmanship of the UK’s most prestigious private bank. The role came with a huge amount of responsibility and the expectation of the board that the bank would flourish under his leadership. But he felt no loyalty to Ralph Saunderson, who had ignored him for thirty-four years and had only made Cortez his heir because Ralph’s adopted son was not up to the job of running Saunderson’s Bank.
The journey from London and the foul English weather had darkened Cortez’s mood even more, and his temper simmered when he walked into Cuckmere Hall and found a party going on. He threaded his way through the crowd of people in the central hall and shook his head at the waiter who offered him a tray of canapés. In one of the reception rooms there was a champagne bar, and in the ballroom music blared from the speakers and people were dancing.
He saw Elin immediately, and the punch in his gut made him catch his breath. It was history repeating itself, he thought furiously. She was even wearing a red dress like she had done at her birthday party a year ago. But, instead of a scrap of scarlet silk, her dress tonight was a burgundy velvet floor-length gown with a side split up to her mid-thigh. The top of the dress was strapless, leaving her shoulders bare, and the laced bodice pushed her breasts up so that they looked like ripe, round peaches that he longed to taste. Her pale blonde hair reached to halfway down her back and shimmered like raw silk.
He wanted her. Dios, he could feel the thunder of his pulse, and the fire in his blood mocked his belief that his desire for her a year ago had been an aberration. What was it about Elin that tested his self-control to its limits? She was not the only beautiful woman he had known, not even the most beautiful—her eyes were too big in her heart-shaped face and her mouth was too wide. She was elfin and ethereal and too petite for his six feet four frame.
The rage inside him turned darker and more dangerous as he watched her dancing with a man he vaguely recognised was a television chat show host. The guy’s hands were all over Elin, but she seemed to be enjoying the attention, and her lilting laughter audible above the music caused acid to fizz in Cortez’s gut. He snapped his teeth together and strode across the ballroom, driven to distraction by an unfamiliar emotion that he grimly realised was jealousy.
‘My turn, I think you’ll find,’ he growled to Elin’s dance partner. The other man obviously valued his doubtless exorbitantly expensive dental work and quickly dropped his hand from her waist.
‘That was incredibly rude.’ Elin threw Cortez a furious glare before she spun round and began to walk away, but he snaked his arm around her waist and jerked her towards him.
‘I’m sure you don’t want to cause a scene, so I suggest you dance with me.’
‘I’m not the one causing a scene,’ she snapped. ‘Do you know who that man is? He is Clint Cooper, one of the highest paid people on television, and he was about to promise me a lot of money before you barged him out of the way.’
‘Santa Madre, you would barter yourself like a whore on a street corner?’ Cortez made no effort to hide his disgust, but to his fury he realised that he still wanted her and he didn’t care that she had lived up to her reputation in the tabloids as a goodtime girl.
‘How dare you?’ She reacted instantly and swung her hand up, but his reactions were quicker and he seized her wrist before she could slap his cheek.
‘Careful,’ he warned her softly. ‘If you hit me, I’ll retaliate. Right here in front of your guests, I will put you across my knee and spank you as befits the spoiled brat you are. And, believe me, I would dare, Elin.’
The pink flush on her cheeks deepened to scarlet and she breathed jerkily, causing her breasts to quiver above the low-cut neckline of her dress. Her eyes flashed with temper, but Cortez sensed the scorching sexual chemistry beneath her anger and he felt an answering lick of fire along his manhood.
‘You are an odious man,’ she hissed. ‘Why are you even here? You said you would be staying in London.’
‘Is that why you decided to throw a party while I was conveniently out of the way? I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that Ralph left me Cuckmere Hall. The house and estate are mine by right of birth—even though my father failed to acknowledge me for most of my life.’ He could not hide his bitterness. ‘I suppose you are angry because your adoptive father excluded you from his will, but I find it distasteful that you arranged a party two days after Ralph’s funeral. You might as well have danced on his grave.’
She stiffened when he moved his hand to the small of her back and held her tightly against him so that she was forced to dance with him. ‘As a matter of fact, Ralph helped to organise the party before he died,’ she snapped. ‘The charity, Lorna’s Gift, was my brother’s idea and all the funds raised go to helping children living in orphanages around the world.’
She pointed to a banner on the wall that he had not noticed because his attention had been riveted on Elin. The banner had the slogan Lorna’s Gift and a photograph of a sweet-faced woman who he guessed was Lorna Saunderson. Cortez was aware that Ralph’s wife had died eighteen months ago.
‘Clint Cooper was telling me of his intention to make a donation to the charity,’ Elin continued furiously. ‘He was not offering me money for sex. What gives you the right to judge me?’ Her mouth trembled and Cortez sensed she was struggling to control her emotions. ‘Do you think I don’t judge myself?’ she said in a low voice. ‘My birthday party a year ago was the most shameful night of my life. You have no idea how bitterly I regret that I had sex with you.’
Cortez told himself she was a good actress. He knew her air of innocence was fake. He focused his thoughts on the reason he had driven from London to Sussex on a filthy night. ‘I need to talk to you, but not in here with this deafening music.’ He had noticed there was a conservatory next to the ballroom and he steered her over to it. The glass room was empty and he closed the door to muffle the sound of the disco.
Elin immediately stepped away from him and put her hands on her hips. ‘What now?’ she demanded belligerently. ‘After we spoke two days ago I got the impression that you had nothing more to say to me, and I certainly have nothing to say to you.’
He pushed away the infuriating thought that she looked magnificent when she was angry. Her blue eyes gleamed with the fiery brilliance of sapphires and her breasts heaved beneath her velvet gown. ‘When was your son born?’ he said abruptly.
‘The sixth of October.’ She did not drop her gaze from his, and Cortez narrowed his eyes to hide his inexplicable feeling of disappointment.
‘So he is five months old. You could at least have worked out the maths. You must have conceived in January last year, but we had sex in March.’ His lip curled in disgust as another thought occurred to him. ‘Dios. You must have been pregnant when you slept with me, but you told me I was responsible. Surely you had the sense to realise I would not accept a paternity claim without a DNA test?’
She shrugged. ‘It was worth a try.’
Dark and dangerous emotions swirled inside him and he felt the same savage wrench in his gut that he’d felt years ago when Alandra had informed him that she had terminated her pregnancy. He had wanted his baby but he hadn’t been given a chance to be a father. Tonight he had come to Cuckmere Hall because he’d realised there was a chance he was the father of Elin’s son. But she had lied and made a clumsy attempt to foist another man’s child on him.
His jaw clenched as he struggled to control his anger. He was furious, not only with Elin but with himself because, despite the proof that she was a lying bitch, he was trapped in her spell and the shaming hunger he felt for her was a weakness he found intolerable.
‘I warned you not to play games with me.’ He resisted the urge to shake some sense into her. If he touched her he feared he would be lost. ‘Maybe your whole life is a game of endless parties and various sexual partners, but you have a child to consider. I know what it is like to grow up without a father. What will you tell your son when he asks why he doesn’t have a father?’
She paled, and that made him even angrier. How dare she look so tragic, as if he had wounded her, when he knew—when everyone who read the English tabloids knew about her wild sex-and-drugs party girl reputation?
‘I’ll tell Harry the truth,’ she said quietly, ‘which is that his father did not want him.’ Her voice hardened. ‘You’re such a hypocrite. You think that it’s fine for you to sleep around, but you judge the women you sleep with. That’s blatant double standards. Equality between the sexes means nothing. It’s still women who are left with the babies when they are abandoned by their lovers.’
* * *
Elin stalked out of the conservatory without giving Cortez a chance to reply. She was incensed by his arrogance and reassured herself that she had done the right thing by misleading him about Harry’s date of birth. Cortez had made it clear he did not want a child, and after hearing his insulting opinion of her it was impossible to see how they could both have a role in Harry’s life.
It was equally impossible to understand why she allowed herself to be affected by Cortez. But she did not allow it, she thought bitterly. She was kidding herself if she believed she had any control over her reaction to his dangerous good looks, and that thing that smouldered between them, that intense heat that licked through her veins every time she met his gaze and saw the gold flecks in his dark eyes blaze. She did not know what she found more unsettling—her uncontrollable fascination with him, or the realisation that he desired her, and despised himself for it.
The din in the ballroom, of guests talking loudly in competition with the blaring disco music, had given Elin a headache and after her run-in with Cortez she felt an urgent need to be with her baby. But as she exited the ballroom and was about to run upstairs to the nursery, someone called her name.
‘Nat!’ She smiled at the young man who hurried over to her. Nat Davies drove a tractor at the vineyard and he also worked in the winery where his father, Stan, was head winemaker for Saunderson’s Wines. ‘Are you enjoying the party?’
‘Yeah, it’s great. But Dad’s just called me and said there’s a problem at the vineyard.’
Elin frowned as Nat went on to explain that the latest weather forecast predicted an overnight frost. ‘There are already buds on the vines after that unusually warm spell we had at the beginning of March,’ he reminded her. ‘Frost damage now could ruin the entire crop.’
It could mean the end of Lorna Saunderson’s dream of producing a top quality sparkling wine in England that was on a par with wines from across the Channel. Elin remembered how ten years ago Mama had been inspired to establish a vineyard in Sussex after visiting the Champagne region of France. Ralph had initially been enthusiastic but, as was his way, he had quickly lost interest in the project. It had been Lorna and Elin, aided by a small team of estate workers, who had planted fifteen acres of Chardonnay and Pinot Noir vines in the chalky soil.
The winery had been producing wine for seven years, and the previous year’s vintage had been the best yet. Following Lorna’s death, it had been important to Elin to keep her mother’s dream alive, but the terms of Ralph’s will meant that her involvement with Saunderson’s Wines would soon be over. The vines were Cortez’s responsibility now, she reminded herself. But she couldn’t bear the idea that all the years of Mama’s hard work could be wiped out by a frost.
‘We’ll have to light the frost candles,’ she told Nat. She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s almost midnight. We need to hurry before the temperature drops to below freezing. Go and round up any of the estate workers from the party who are sober enough to help.’
Twenty minutes later, Elin drove the farm truck through the grounds of the Cuckmere estate up to the vineyard. It was a clear night and the full moon cast a silver gleam over the rolling Sussex Downs. She briefly wondered what Cortez would make of her if he saw her as she was dressed now. She had changed out of her glamorous ball gown, into jeans and as many jumpers as she could fit beneath her duffel coat.
The air was icy when she climbed out of the truck and walked through the vineyard, but remembering her last conversation with Cortez made her burn with anger. She had not noticed his car on the drive, and hoped he had returned to London and she would never see him again. It was imperative that she moved out of Cuckmere Hall as soon as possible so that she could avoid him. Although it would break her heart to leave the only home she had ever known, she thought bleakly.
She forced her mind away from Cortez Ramos and concentrated on the task of lighting eight hundred bougies—or frost candles. They were the size of big paint tins, filled with paraffin wax and a wick, and were placed at intervals between the rows of vines. When the bougies were lit they warmed the air temperature enough to prevent frost from damaging the tender new shoots on the plants.
It was laborious work walking along the endless rows of vines and stooping every few yards to light the candles, and Elin was grateful to Nat and his father and a couple of estate workers who had come to help. When they had finished, the sight of acres of vineyards glowing with golden lights was spectacular, but Elin knew that in a few hours all the candles would have to be extinguished when the sun rose and the temperature lifted a few degrees. She sent Nat and the other workers home, but Stan stayed with her to keep a watch on the bougies. It was nearly seven a.m. by the time they had put all the candles out and she was able to return to the house.
Harry was awake in his cot and greeted her with a winsome smile that melted her heart. While she fed him she had to force her eyes to remain open, until Barbara gently lifted the baby out of her arms. ‘Go to bed for a couple of hours,’ the nanny told her. ‘I’ll put Harry in his pram and take him for a walk. You won’t be able to take care of him while you’re exhausted from lack of sleep.’
Elin was too tired to argue but, when she crawled into bed, worries about the future circled in her mind. How would she manage to hold down a job and take care of her son without Barbara’s help? What job was she likely to find when her only qualifications were in viticulture and oenology? Wine production was a growing industry in England but most vineyards were small, family run businesses.
There was also the question of where she was going to live. She had checked out the two cottages that Ralph had left her and her brother and found that both properties had a problem with damp, which would not be a healthy environment for a baby.
She had not heard from Jarek and he hadn’t answered any of her calls. She hoped he hadn’t been drinking too much. It was vital Cortez did not find out that her brother had developed a reliance on vodka to help him cope with his feelings of guilt and grief about Mama’s death.
Elin’s head felt as if it would explode, and when she did eventually fall asleep her shamefully erotic dreams were fuelled by memories of Cortez’s naked, powerfully muscular body pressing down on her and the bold thrust of his manhood pushing between her thighs.
