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

London’s a village, she thought. Sooner or later you bump into everyone. As she knew to her cost…

Stop thinking like that, she adjured herself fiercely. Today’s going to be quite tricky enough, and you need to be on top of your game, so stop right now.

She turned determinedly to the coffee, which was hot, strong and aromatic, and she could almost feel it putting new life into her.

A shower helped too, even if the limitations of her wardrobe became all too apparent immediately afterwards.

With a mental shrug, she picked out the white cut-offs and the green and white striped shirt she worn on the beach at Penvarnon the previous day, and slid her feet into espadrilles.

She brushed her hair back from her face with unwonted severity, securing it at the nape of her neck with an elastic band which had begun its life round the folder containing her train ticket and seat reservation.

The return portion would now remain unused, of course, she thought. wondering ironically if the train company would deem being kidnapped as a valid excuse for a refund.

Another item, she told herself, to be added to the cost of my stupidity.

Biting her lip, she walked to the door. When she tried it this time, however, it opened easily, and, drawing a long, deep breath, she went out and up the companionway to join her captor.

She found Diaz on the sun deck, where a table and two folding chairs had been placed. He was casual, in shabby cream shorts and a faded dark red polo shirt, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses as he studied some very small item of hand-held technical gadgetry, which probably contained, she reflected, his bank statements, his address book and details of his business commitments for the next ten years.

And she thought how much she’d like to throw it overboard.

At her approach, however, he switched it off and rose courteously to his feet.

‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘I hope you slept well.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘But that was hardly likely—under the circumstances.’

His brows lifted quizzically. ‘Because you’ve been under a certain amount of tension lately? Is that what you’re saying?’

She thought of the anguished phone calls, the bitter outbursts, the threats of self-harm, and all those other truly sleepless nights, punctuated by harsh, heart-rending sobbing. All culminating in the final acknowledgement that Simon had gone, and all hope had gone with him.

She looked past him. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’

‘One of those situations where ignorance is definitely bliss.’ His tone bit. ‘But you’re a really splendid actress, my sweet,’ he went on, after a pause. ‘Because when I came in to check on you, just after dawn, I’d have sworn you were flat out. I thought I even detected a little snore. How wrong can anyone be?’

She shrugged. ‘I’d say the field was wide open.’ She sat down, determined not to show her inner disturbance at the thought of him watching her sleeping, and unfolded her table napkin. ‘But you seem to have insomnia problems too, if you were lurking around in the small hours.’ She gave him a small, flat smile. ‘Conscience troubling you, perhaps?’

‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘These are busy waters. I had no wish for a moment’s inattention to result in our being mown down by a tanker.’

The arrival of the attentive Enrique, with glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice and a basket of warm rolls, followed almost at once by scrambled eggs with chorizo and another large pot of coffee, saved her having to find a reply.

‘I hope the sea air has given you an appetite,’ Diaz remarked, offering her the pepper mill.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Rhianna said icily, aware, to her everlasting shame, that her mouth was watering in response to the aroma from her plate. ‘Being shut up in that five-star cell you condemned me to, I didn’t know it existed. After all, I could hardly open a window to check the ozone levels.’

‘Well, your freedom has been now fully restored, and you can breathe again.’ He indicated a powerful-looking pair of binoculars lying on the table beside him. ‘Are you interested in bird-watching? It could be a good day for it, now we’ve left the sea mist off Brest behind us.’

‘I’m afraid your plans for my shipboard entertainment are doomed,’ she returned, doing her damnedest not to eat too fast, even though these were the best scrambled eggs she’d ever tasted. She added untruthfully, ‘I really wouldn’t know a canary from a robin.’

‘I think Biscay goes in more for shearwaters and arctic terns,’ he said. ‘But maybe you prefer mammals. We can usually offer a selection of dolphins in good weather, or, if you’re lucky, you might even spot a whale.’

‘If I was lucky,’ she said stonily, concealing a flash of delight, ‘I wouldn’t be here in the first place. And why would I want to see a whale anyway?’

‘Because they’re rare and beautiful creatures,’ Diaz said quietly. ‘I thought like might call to like.’

Rhianna looked down at her empty plate, her throat tightening as he paused.

‘Besides,’ he went on, ‘you might get cast one day in another remake of Moby Dick , with the advantage of being already acquainted with the main character.’

‘Unlikely,’ she said, forbidding herself even a marginal smile. ‘Female roles are pretty thin in that particular epic.’

‘I’m sure they’d adapt it to accommodate you,’ he said, pouring more coffee. ‘A girl stowaway on the Pequod who slowly wins the heart of Captain Ahab and turns him from his revenge to joint ownership of a seafood restaurant on Nantucket.’

She shuddered. ‘Oh, God, don’t even suggest it. Someone might hear.’

‘But if not that,’ he said, ‘there’ll be other roles to play eventually.’

‘I hope so,’ Rhianna said slowly. ‘I wouldn’t like to think that Lady Ariadne would be all I’d be remembered for.’ She bit her lip. ‘But at the moment I’m not looking beyond the next series.’

‘And what would have happened to that,’ he enquired levelly, ‘if Simon had asked you to marry him after all? If he’d wanted you to keep the baby? What price Lady Ariadne then?’

Be careful , said the voice in her head. Be very careful. You can’t give anything away.

She shrugged again. ‘That was never going to happen,’ she said. ‘I knew it. Simon certainly knew it. And we both made our choices long before you decided to interfere. Whatever you may have seen or heard, or think you know, the wedding was never in any danger from me.’

She sent him a cool smile. ‘So now you’ll have to live with the knowledge that it’s all been a total waste of time. That you’ve carried me off for nothing, Mr Penvarnon.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Therefore, why don’t you admit defeat, turn this expensive piece of equipment right around, and take me back to England?’

He pushed his chair back and rose. ‘Because it’s far too late for that, Rhianna,’ he said softly. ‘It always has been. And if you don’t know that, sweetheart, then you’re lying not just to me but to yourself as well.’

And he walked away, leaving her staring after him, her mouth suddenly dry and her pulses pounding.

In spite of the breeze, it was still hot enough for Rhianna to be thankful for the awning above the sun deck, where she lay on a cushioned lounger. But even in its shade her clothes were sticking to her.

I didn’t bring a bikini on this trip, she thought wryly, because it never occurred to me I’d have time to sunbathe. Besides, I knew I could always borrow a costume from Carrie if I fancied a quick swim in between pre-wedding chores.

But maybe a bikini, or any kind of swimwear, would not be a good choice for these particular circumstances. Being fully dressed might not be comfortable, but it seemed altogether the safer option.