JACQUELINE BAIRD - Mediterranean Men Unleashed - The Billionaire's Blackmailed Bride

He was a real sweetie and Emily adored him. She had spent many a school holiday at his home, Deveral Hall in Lincolnshire, or at his rather dilapidated villa in Corfu. When her childhood dreams of being a ballerina were dashed by her increasing height it was her uncle who had taught her never to waste time hankering after things that she could not change and move on. Then he had got her interested in archaeology and sailing and swimming in the warm waters off the Greek island and had been instrumental in her decision to be a marine archaeologist.

She smiled at her image in the mirror. The dress she wore was a strapless silver lamé that clung to every inch of her body like a second skin to end six inches above her knees. She had left her long hair loose and she was wearing ridiculously high-heeled diamanté sandals that showed off her legs to the max.

Emily was still smiling to herself as she walked down the stairs to join the family for pre-dinner drinks. Her uncle would love her outfit—he was always telling her that the latest generation of men on the Fairfax side of the family needed shocking out of their staid conservatism once in a while. For that reason he always turned up at any family dinner in a velvet dinner jacket and outrageous waistcoats. The rest of the family would probably have a fit.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and headed towards the sound of talk and laughter coming from the drawing room, and then turned again as the doorbell rang.

‘I’ll get it, Mindy,’ she said as the flustered housekeeper popped out of the kitchen.

She opened the door and her mouth fell open with shock. ‘Anton, what are you doing here? I thought you weren’t due back until tomorrow.’

‘Obviously I got back not a minute too soon.’ His dark eyes glittered with some fierce emotion as they swept over her. ‘You look unbelievable, though I find it hard to believe you dressed like that for an evening at home. Who is my competition?’ he demanded, his dark eyes narrowing with anger on her face. Then without a word he hauled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his own in a hard possessive kiss that knocked the breath from her body.

When he finally allowed her to breathe again she looked up into his burning black eyes. ‘What was that for?’ she gasped.

‘To remind you, you are mine. Now who is he?’

‘You’re jealous—you think I am going out with another man,’ Emily prompted, ridiculously delighted, and, lifting a finger, she stroked the firm line of his jaw. ‘You have no need to be, Anton. There is no other man, and we are having a birthday party for my uncle,’ she explained, a broad smile curving her slightly swollen lips. ‘Come and join us. You will make the dinner table up to an even number.’ And she watched as what looked surprisingly like a blush stained his high cheekbones.

‘What can I say?’ He groaned, holding her away from him. ‘Except I’ve missed you.’ His eyes roamed hungrily over her and then, grabbing her arm, he urged her inside. ‘I have to speak to Tom.’

‘Why?’

‘I want to marry you, and I need to ask his permission.’

‘What?’

‘You heard.’ He folded her against his long body. ‘Marry me, Emily. I can’t wait any longer.’

Not the most romantic proposal in the world, but Emily’s blue eyes filled with tears of happiness. Suddenly everything made sense. Anton, wonderful Anton, the man she loved with all her heart, the man she had been worrying would never take her to bed, actually wanted to marry her. Now his behaviour made magnificent sense. She had heard the rumours of his many mistresses, but with her he had behaved with admirable restraint because he wanted more, he wanted her to be his wife, he loved her.

‘Yes, oh, yes,’ she cried, and flung her arms around his neck.

‘What is going on out here?’

Anton raised his eyes and looked at Tom over the top of Emily’s head. He had shocked himself by proposing marriage so precipitously. He had had it all planned, the ring in his pocket, a romantic dinner, a skilful seduction; instead he had blurted it out in the doorway like an idiot. But hell! If ever a woman looked like sex on legs and ready to bed it was Emily tonight, he reasoned, so naturally he had to get in quick. And Emily had said yes, mission accomplished. Not that he had doubted for a moment she would say yes, and he refused to admit it was the thought of Emily seeing another man that was responsible for his hasty proposal. He straightened his broad shoulders and tightened his arm around Emily’s waist.

‘I have just asked Emily to marry me, Tom, and she has agreed. But we would like your blessing,’ he said, once more in complete control.

‘Is this true, Emily? Is Anton the man for you?’ Tom asked quietly, his eyes on his sister.

‘Oh, yes.’

‘In that case you have my blessing.’ Anton met his soon-to-be brother-in-law’s eyes and saw the slight reservation in the blue depths. ‘But you are a lot older than Emily.’ For that, read You have a reputation with women , Anton understood instantly. ‘And if you hurt her in any way you will have me to answer to.’

‘I’ll guard her with my life,’ Anton declared, and he meant it, though not necessarily for the reason Tom Fairfax thought …

‘Knowing Emily and given her career choice, I don’t envy you,’ Tom teased.

‘Tom—please …’ Emily groaned. ‘You are going to put Anton off before I get the ring on my finger.’

‘Never.’ Anton glanced down at the woman by his side. ‘As your husband I will support you every which way you want, Emily.’

‘So stop making cow’s eyes at her, and come and meet the rest of the family.’ Tom grinned. ‘We can make it a double celebration and you will have some idea of what you are getting into, my friend.’

Anton knew exactly what he was getting into, he had engineered the whole thing, so he was surprised that he actually felt something suspiciously like guilt as the introductions were made. Tom and Helen, he knew of course, and James and Lisa Browning. The Brownings’ two adult sons and their wives seemed pleasant enough. Another aunt, Jane, was the younger sister of Sara Fairfax, a widow with twin sons about twenty. Then there was the birthday boy, Sir Clive Deveral, wearing a deep blue velvet dinner jacket, a ruffled yellow shirt and a brilliant scarlet waistcoat with a face to match.

Although he had seen all their names on the report his investigator had presented, meeting them in the flesh was a little disconcerting. As the dinner progressed he found it impossible to dislike them. Everyone without exception made him welcome and congratulated him on having won Emily’s hand in marriage. The conversation was lively and funny and inevitably reminiscences of other family parties were laughed over. For the first time in years he wondered if there was something to be said for a large close-knit family.

‘So what did you think of them?’ Emily asked Anton, her arm linked in his as she walked him to the door at one in the morning.

‘I think your uncle Clive is deliberately outrageous but a great character and the rest are all lovely just like you,’ he murmured as he slipped his hand in his pocket and withdrew a small velvet box.

Emily stared in wonder and a happiness so profound she could not speak.

‘I meant to do this over a romantic dinner for two.’ His lips quirked at the corners in a wry smile as he opened the box. ‘But events rather overtook us.’ And grasping her hand, he raised it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on the backs of her fingers, before sliding a magnificent sapphire and diamond ring onto her finger.

Tears of joy sparkled in Emily’s eyes as she looked up into his darkly handsome face. ‘It is beautiful. I love it and I love you,’ she declared. Anton was everything she wanted, and the fact he had said in front of Tom he would support her in her career banished the faintest doubt, and she kissed him.