Rebecca Winters - To Marry For Duty

“I don’t want anyone’s gratitude!” Piper practically spit out the words. She wanted Nic’s love, but that wasn’t possible.

“Forgive me for having taken up your valuable time, Señorita Piperre.” He shrugged back into his elegant suit jacket. “I’ll let myself out.”

As he reached past her to open the door, their arms brushed, sending a current of electricity through her body. Her pain flew off the chart.

“Be sure to give Jan back her ring before you leave the building,” she cautioned in a brittle voice.

He paused in the entry, eyeing her through veiled lids. “But of course.”

But of course nothing!

Her eyes prickled behind their lids. She glared at the door he’d closed on his way out.

How dare he have the gall to invade her space like some arrogant Spanish nobleman from the past, expecting her to fall for his droit de seigneur routine with its own peculiar Pastrana twist.

Dangerous my foot!

Wild with hurt, she wheeled around and poked her head inside Don’s office. He looked up at her. “Something tells me I’m about to lose my business partner. Like I said, those Varano genes are fatal for the Duchess triplets.”

“You’re wrong, Don. He’s gone for good. I came in here to apologize for putting you in an untenable position. If you don’t mind, I’d rather work through my lunch hour.”

After closing the connecting door, she headed for her drafting table. Getting back to work was the one panacea that kept the pain at bay.

Forty-five minutes later Jan made an appearance. “I’m going to lunch with Jim now.”

Piper got up from her seat and walked over to the desk where she kept her purse. After pulling out a twenty dollar bill, she extended it to her assistant.

“Have lunch on me. It’s one of my ways of saying thank you for letting me borrow your ring.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Jan made no move to take it. “I was glad to be of help.” After a slight hesitation, “Did it help?”

“I’ll never have to worry about his bothering me again.”

“You must be the only woman in the world who wouldn’t want to be bothered by him.”

“Yes, well, you can stop salivating because beneath that gorgeous Spanish physique lurks a Machiavellian brain. He’s part Italian you know. Greer didn’t trust him the second we went on board the Piccione last June. I hate to admit it, but her instincts about that three-tongued Don Juan were right.”

“Three-tongued?”

“Yes. He can make love to a woman in French, Spanish and Italian.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Not at all. To my knowledge he speaks half a dozen romance languages fluently. Among his other, shall we say ‘nonsensual’ activities, he owns the Spanish-Portuguese Bank of Iberia, he’s a brilliant scholar of Latin and Arabic, and he has written several esoteric books on primogeniture and heraldry.”

“I didn’t think a man like him really existed.”

“Yeah, well, he’s an original all right.”

“What did he do that made you so furious?”

“He asked me to marry him.”

“You’re kidding!” Jan cried out again. “You lucky thing…”

“Before you get too excited, let me explain he’s in love with a woman who doesn’t love him. I think it’s a lie. I bet it’s a titled woman who can’t get out of her marriage.

“Anyway, he needs to find another woman quick so he won’t have to marry the sister of his dead fiancée. He just emerged from a year’s official mourning.”

“You mean people actually do things like that anymore?”

“Apparently the Pastrana family does. Now Don Juan is on the loose again. Since he had to come to New York on business, he picked on the last Duchess triplet to help him out of his latest scrape. Oh—and get this—” Piper let out an angry laugh. “He said it could be dangerous!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t laugh. What if the sister of his dead fiancée is the jealous type? Remember when Jim and I went to see Carmen at the Metropolitan Opera last month? She was a scary, fiery woman. Maybe this sister is so possessive, she’ll try to scratch your eyes out. What’s her name?”

“Camilla.”

“It doesn’t sound good.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, he won’t darken our doorstep again so none of it matters. Go enjoy your lunch!”

“Thanks. Can I bring you something to eat?”

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

She expected Jan to leave, but she still hovered. “What’s the matter?” The subject of Don Juan was officially closed.

“Could I have my ring back? I’m afraid for Jim to see me without it.”

Piper felt the blood drain out of her face.

Slowly she staggered to her feet. “I—I don’t have it.” Jan looked stunned. “Nic does. What did he say to you on his way out?”

“He thanked me for my help and left.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“No.”

Oh no. “Jan—”

Her assistant studied her for a moment. “I guess he didn’t like being turned down.”

“I’ll get your ring for you. I swear it,” Piper said through gritted teeth. She grabbed her purse. “Before you leave for lunch, will you tell Don I’ve gone home for a bite to eat? When I get back to the office I’ll have your ring with me.”

Piper stormed out into the freezing cold to start up the car.

But of course, Nic had said when she’d told him to return Jan’s ring. Machiavellian tendencies didn’t begin to cover his list of sins.

Nic parked in front of the house where Piper lived in the basement apartment. He had no idea how long his wait would be. A devilish smile broke the corner of his mouth. It all depended on when Jan asked for her ring back.

Suddenly he spotted the car Piper was driving in the rearview mirror of his rental car. Good. He’d wanted to get her away from the office before delivering the coup de grace.

She pulled directly behind him and got out. Through the side-view mirror he watched her start toward him.

Like his cousins who’d lived around dark-haired, dark-eyed Mediterranean women all their lives, he too had been captivated by the golden radiance of the Duchess triplets. He loved the way her hair swished around her flushed face like fine gold mesh. Even without the sun shining, it had a brilliance that drew his gaze.

He loved this particular triplet with her slender curves and jewel-like eyes. The first time he’d looked into them, he’d compared them to the shimmering blue-green waters of the Cinque Terre coastline where he and his cousins enjoyed sailing.

Since last June when she’d appeared on the Piccione, he’d only been able to look, not touch. It had taken every ounce of self-control to tamp down the ache that had leaped to life deep inside him.

Now that he’d flung the mourning band away, he felt reckless and so consumed with the need to hold and love her, he was trembling with that desire.

The object of his thoughts approached and knocked on the driver’s window without hesitation. He pressed the button to lower it.

A faint flowery fragrance from her skin and hair wafted past him. Much like an ember that unexpectedly bursts into flame, her scent ignited every primitive male yearning.

The voluptuous mouth he longed to devour was taut with anger, yet was no less beautiful to him.

“You had no right to drive away with Jan’s ring.”

“I agree. That’s why I gave it to your business partner to return to her. I told him to wait until you’d left the office.”

Her eyes set off a flash of incandescent color that rivaled the Northern Lights.

Ready for her next move which was to either return to her car or lock herself in her apartment, Nic levered himself out of the driver’s seat and caught up to her. Sheer need drove him to grasp her shoulders and pull her back against his chest.