Sara Craven - Wicked Surrender - Ruthless Awakening / The Multi-Millionaire's Virgin Mistress / The Timber Baron's Virgin Bride

The friend accompanying him had roared with laughter, his hot brown eyes assessing Rhianna in a way she didn’t like. She’d cared for him even less when she spotted him later, adding the contents of his hip flask to the non-alcoholic punch.

But the next time she’d seen Simon he’d been dancing with Carrie, his lips close to her ear, whispering things that had her blushing, her face radiant with a delight she couldn’t have concealed if she’d tried.

And she wasn’t trying very hard, Rhianna thought ruefully. So much for moving on.

During the course of the evening she’d also seen Diaz Penvarnon arrive late. She’d assumed he wasn’t coming at all. At the sight of him, she’d longed to fade back into the wall, but he hadn’t appeared to notice her, so perhaps the waitress gear had made her temporarily invisible.

Although there was no reason why he should care if she was there as friend or servant, she reminded herself.

Whenever he visited Penvarnon House he always spoke to her, but as if, she thought sometimes, he was taking care to be pleasant. Yet, while there’d naturally never been any repeat of that wonderful birthday dinner, he’d invariably remembered to send her a card when the anniversary came round.

It was getting on for midnight when Simon approached her again. ‘Going to dance with me?’ he asked, bending towards her, his face flushed.

‘For goodness’ sake, Simon, I can’t,’ she muttered. ‘I’m here to work, and Mrs Seymour’s watching me.’ She raised her voice a little. ‘Is there something I can get you, sir?’

‘Absolutely. Dance with me and I’ll tell you.’ He grinned at her.

‘Simon,’ she said. ‘This isn’t funny. Please go away.’

‘Poor Cinderella,’ he said. ‘But they can’t keep you slaving all night. You deserve some fun. And you can at least have some champagne to toast Carrie’s birthday, like everyone else. She’d want that.’ He paused. ‘Tell you what—I’ll get a bottle, and we’ll meet you round by the stables in ten minutes. How would that be?’

She bit her lip. ‘Well, OK. But I can only stay a few minutes.’

When he’d gone, Rhianna glanced round her. She probably wouldn’t be missed at this stage, she thought. No one wanted any more food, at least not until the eggs and bacon were to be served very much later on. And Aunt Kezia’s eagle eye was now superintending the clearing-up operation in the kitchen. She probably could slip out for a little while. And if she was spotted then she would have Carrie to defend her.

Apart from the moon, there was no light in the yard. It was cooler now, too, after the heat of the house, and Rhianna hugged herself, shivering a little.

She called softly, ‘Carrie?’

‘Over here.’ Simon’s voice reached her from one of the disused loose boxes.

He was standing just inside, leaning against the wall, a dark shape among the shadows. As her eyes adjusted Rhianna realised he was alone, his tie loosened, and that he was clasping an open bottle of champagne, which he held out to her.

‘So,’ he said, his voice slurring a little. ‘Here we are at last. Let’s party.’

‘Where’s Carrie?’

‘Being the obedient daughter and perfect hostess.’ He said it with a laugh that was almost a sneer. ‘Where else?’

‘Then I should get back to being the perfect waitress,’ she said. ‘I haven’t got time to party—or not without Carrie, anyway.’

‘She won’t miss you. Come on, Rhianna, loosen up.’ Putting down the bottle, he pushed himself away from the wall and came over to her. ‘Neither of us is on the A list tonight, so we may as well drown our sorrows.’

Judging by the alcohol on his breath, Simon’s troubles were already well submerged. She drew back. ‘No, thank you.’

‘Oh, come on, sweetheart. What’s your problem?’ He looked her up and down. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t fancy me. You have done for years. I heard all about it from a girl at your school. Only I didn’t feel like following it up—then. But things—and people—change with time.’ He paused. ‘Who’d have thought it, eh? From scrawny kid to hot totty in one blink of the eye.’

She was getting more uncomfortable by the second. ‘Simon, I have to get back—really.’ She turned towards the house. ‘People will be wondering where I am.’

‘But my need,’ he said thickly, ‘is much greater than theirs—believe me.’ He grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him. ‘So stay and be nice. You know you want to.’

Caught off balance, Rhianna found herself pinned against him so closely that his state of arousal became embarrassingly evident.

She tried to say, Stop this now—but her words were smothered by the heat of his mouth, and his hands were tugging at the buttons of her dress.

Then from behind them, a man’s cool voice said, ‘So there you are, Simon. Everyone’s looking for you, particularly Carrie. Your friend Jimmy’s drunk and behaving rather badly.’

And, to her horror, Rhianna realised that the voice belonged to Diaz Penvarnon. And that he was standing watching them from the doorway of the loose box, dark brows raised, and his eyes like steel.

Simon let her go as if he’d been stung, and swung round defensively. ‘What am I supposed to do about it?’

‘You brought him.’ Diaz sounded bored. ‘You deal with him. He can hardly stand up, let alone walk. And go now, please,’ he added as Simon seemed prepared to argue. ‘Sorry to upset your pleasant interlude, but Carrie’s mother is getting upset.’ He paused. ‘And so is Carrie.’

Simon shrugged almost airily. ‘You know how it is, man.’ He glanced, grinning, at Rhianna. ‘If the offer’s on the table, you can hardly turn it down—especially when it comes so nicely packaged.’

He set off across the yard, walking none too steadily himself.

Dazed, Rhianna watched him go, his words beating in her brain. She thought, He’s deliberately made it sound as if this was my idea. As if I came out here to be with him—wanting— this …

She turned to Diaz, saw the direction of his gaze, and, looking down, realised her dress was unfastened almost to the waist.

‘Oh, God,’ she said. Dry-mouthed, fingers shaking, she attempted to fumble the buttons back into their holes.

‘A little late for modesty, wouldn’t you say?’ His voice reached her harshly.

‘You don’t have to watch,’ she said. ‘I have to get back to work.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘You don’t. You’re finished for tonight. The only place you’re going is home to bed.’

She said tautly, ‘Is that an order—sir?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It is.’ He paused. ‘So what was this? An extra birthday present for Carrie? Having her heart broken? Because if she’d turned up here instead of me that’s what would have happened.’

He shook his head. ‘You of all people should know how she feels about Simon Rawlins, Rhianna. And, whatever I think of him, I know that falling in love with the right person isn’t always a given—at any age. Maybe he’s like a virus, and she’ll recover eventually, but that time is clearly not yet. So keep your predatory little hands off her precious apple cart—and that’s another order.’

His words seemed to pelt her like stones, making her quiver under the onslaught. Because what could she say in her own defence? It wasn’t like that. How feeble and unconvincing was that?

Besides, when Simon had grabbed her she’d been too stunned to react immediately, so she hadn’t even been fighting him off when Diaz had walked in.

Making herself decent was no longer a priority. All that mattered was getting out of there—away from him—away from the icy condemnation in his voice for which she had no answer that he would ever believe.