Kathryn Ross - Tycoon's Choice - Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal

‘When Diane told me you were coming home I wanted to know exactly what your plans were, and I felt sure Eve would know. I finally managed to contact her at the clinic, and after some initial resistance on her part we had quite a long talk. She told me what she was trying to do for you, and I mentioned I might be able to help.

‘All I had to do was suggest to Harriet that she rang the clinic’s physiotherapy department and talked to a Miss Collins—which she was only too pleased to do.’

So as well as using his godmother, he had used Eve…But what had he said to her to get her to talk to him? And why hadn’t Eve told her ?

As if she’d spoken the thought aloud, he said, ‘In the end it was easier than I’d anticipated. I didn’t even need to ask Eve not to say anything. It was she who suggested that it would be better if you didn’t know I was involved until we’d had a chance to talk. I think she was afraid you might change your mind about coming back…’

There was a tap at the door, and the housekeeper put her head round to say, ‘Dinner’s all ready when you are.’

‘Thank you, Mary, we’ll serve ourselves. You can leave anything else that needs to be done until Annie gets here.’

‘Thanks…I’ll say goodnight, then.’

‘Goodnight.’

As the latch clicked, realising belatedly that she should have used the opportunity to escape, Madeleine jumped to her feet and started for the door, crying, ‘Mrs Boyce—’

An arm snaked round her waist and a cool hand covered her mouth.

Pulling her back against him, Rafe put his lips to the side of her neck and murmured softly, ‘That’s not on, my sweet. I don’t want Mary involved.’

Trembling, shaken to the core by the caress that was no caress, she stood quite still.

As soon as he released her, she rounded on him. ‘And I don’t want to be kept here against my will.’

Then, helplessly, ‘I can’t understand what you’re hoping to gain, why you went to so much trouble to get me here.’

He took a stray tendril of blonde hair that had escaped and tugged it gently, making her flinch away. ‘It was no trouble. In fact the whole thing worked incredibly smoothly.’

She gritted her teeth. ‘Why—?’

‘We’ll talk about it after dinner.’

‘I don’t want any dinner.’

His green, lazy-river eyes heavy-lidded and sensual, he said, ‘Well, if you really don’t want to eat, I can think of something a great deal more exciting to do…’

Wondering frantically if he meant what she thought he meant, she stared up at him.

Softly, he went on, ‘So it will suit me fine if you decide against eating.’

He held out both hands. ‘Shall we go upstairs?’

HER normally low, well-modulated voice shrill, she cried, ‘No, I don’t want you to touch me. I couldn’t bear it.’

‘The choice is yours.’ He smiled. Seeing her expression change, he sighed. ‘I gather eating’s preferable.’

‘ Anything would be preferable,’ she said primly.

‘Sassy, eh?’ Taking her chin, he tilted her face up to his.

Every nerve ending in her body jerked, and it was all she could do to keep from crying out.

Watching what little colour she had drain away, he remarked silkily, ‘I’m beginning to think you’re scared of me.’

‘Well, you’re wrong,’ she retorted.

‘You mean you’re not?’

‘No, I’m not,’ she lied. ‘I just can’t bear you to touch me.’

‘So you said. But I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to it…’

The faint hum and beep of a fax machine cut through his words.

‘If you’ll excuse me for just a moment, I’ll make sure that’s nothing important.’ He disappeared into the office.

Her legs feeling too weak to support her, she sank down in the nearest chair. As she did so her eyes lit on the phone on the nearby table. Eve had said, ‘Now, don’t forget, if you’re not happy with the situation, let me know straight away.’

If she could put Eve in the picture, it would seem like a lifeline. With a nervous glance towards the office, she hurried across and picked up the receiver.

She was just tapping in the number when a lean, tanned hand reached over her shoulder and depressed the receiver rest. As she caught her breath, he took the receiver from her hand and replaced it.

‘Dear me,’ he said mildly. ‘It seems I can’t take my eyes off you.’

Turning to face him in the confined space, she said as steadily as possible, ‘I promised to ring Eve…’

He studied her face, and she tingled under the scrutiny of those green eyes. ‘There’ll be time for that later.’

‘I’d prefer to do it now,’ she insisted.

‘Our meal will be spoiling…’ He reached out a lazy hand and stroked a fingertip down her cheek. Her body trapped between his and the table, she stood perfectly still, afraid to move.

‘Unless you’ve changed your mind about eating?’ he queried.

‘No, I haven’t changed my mind,’ she said thickly.

He sighed. ‘A pity, but still…’

One hand cupping her bare elbow, he led her to the white-walled, black-beamed dining room, where a candlelit refectory table was set for two.

Several huge logs blazed cheerfully in a Crusader grate, and over the mantel were more garlands of holly and ivy and mistletoe threaded through with gleaming scarlet ribbon.

A thick sheepskin rug lay in front of the stone hearth, and a couch was drawn up before the blaze. Waiting on the coffee-table was a tray with cups and saucers, cream and sugar.

When Madeleine was seated at the table Rafe turned to a massive sideboard, where on a hotplate a glass jug of coffee was bubbling away next to an array of silver dishes.

Removing the covers, he began to fill two plates with roast chicken and vegetables. Then, setting one of them in front of her, he sat down opposite, poured the Chablis and waited pointedly until she picked up her fork and began to eat.

His remark about her having to get used to his touch had sounded very much like a threat and, afraid to ask, she wondered nervously just what he’d meant by it.

‘Worried that you’ll end up in my bed?’ His voice was laced with intent.

Glancing up, she answered with spirit, ‘Not when you have a wife.’

‘I don’t have a wife.’

Wits scattered, she stammered, ‘Y-you said your wife wasn’t here.’

‘Well, as I haven’t got one, she wouldn’t be, would she?’ he countered reasonably.

‘You’re not married?’ She could hardly believe it.

‘No, I’m not married,’ he said patiently.

‘But I thought…’

‘What did you think?’

For a second or two she floundered, then, gathering herself, said, ‘That with a house like this you’d be married and starting a family.’

‘It isn’t mandatory,’ he responded drily.

‘Neither is ending up in your bed.’

He saluted her spirit. ‘But you will.’

‘Is that misplaced confidence, or merely conceit?’

‘Try fate.’ He laughed.

Teeth clenched on her bottom lip, she returned her attention to her plate.

Rafe said nothing further, and for a while only the sound of the wind roaring in the chimney and the mellow tick-tock of the casement clock in the corner broke the silence.

While she made a pretence of eating, Madeleine’s thoughts tumbled about like ringside clowns. Why wasn’t he married after more than a year? Fiona had made it sound as if the wedding was practically a fait accompli .

Was he still hedging? Trying to wriggle out of the bargain? Meanwhile taking what amusement he could get on the side?

Her lip curled. Well, he wasn’t going to use her again. She was wiser now. Not so vulnerable.