Alex Ryder - Revenge By Seduction

In the back of the chauffeur-driven car she glanced at herself in the vanity mirror. Although she wore no make-up except for a touch of lipstick, her colour was high. It was nerves, she told herself. High as a kite. She’d have to relax.

She’d have to try and be smart and sophisticated, like the women who came into the shop. They drawled their words and called everyone ‘dahling’ and…well, perhaps she needn’t go that far…they had what she supposed was style.

Could she carry it off or was she going to blow it? Was she just going to sit throughout the evening overawed and tongue-tied until he got bored to death with her company?

She scowled at her reflection, then felt gooseflesh on her neck as she imagined she heard the voice of Morag whispering in her ear— ‘I’ve never met a McNeil yet who’s afraid of a challenge.’ She blinked and drew a deep breath. Voices in her head? That was all she needed! Still, Morag had been right. This was a challenge, and win or lose she was going to give it her best shot.

The traffic in the West End was in its usual state of chaos, but soon enough the limousine drew up outside the restaurant. The chauffeur opened the rear door for her and as she stepped on to the pavement the restaurant doorman came over and tipped his hat. ‘Miss McNeil?’

‘Yes?’

‘Mr Hind is expecting you.’

He led her into the foyer, where a cloakroom attendant took charge of her coat and stole, then on into the restaurant proper, where the dignified head waiter took charge and escorted her through the length of the room towards a table in a quiet, exclusive corner.

Her stomach began to flutter nervously as she took in her surroundings. The hushed, refined dignity of the place was almost intimidating. Silver, gleaming under candlelight…the subdued murmur of conversation…the discreet clink of bottles against wine glasses…the plush Victorian decor…

Suddenly there he was, resplendent in dinner jacket, just as she’d imagined. He rose to his feet with a welcoming smile. ‘Catriona.’ He looked her over with approval. ‘You look stunning in that dress!’

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, glowing inwardly at the compliment. Encouraged by his reaction, she smiled as she sat down. ‘I’m glad you like it. It was a problem making up my mind what to wear. I only decided on this at the last moment.’ Oh, you wicked little liar! she thought. She could hardly believe she’d said that.

The waiter handed her a menu but she brushed it aside. ‘I’ll leave the choice to you, Ryan. What would you recommend?’

His mouth twitched in humorous acknowledgement of her faith in his judgement and he said promptly, ‘Duck in orange sauce. It’s the chef’s speciality.’ When the waiter had gone with the order he continued, ‘I took the liberty of ordering a decent wine before you arrived. If it’s too dry for your liking I’ll have them bring something else.’

She wouldn’t have cared if it was cold bathwater, she thought as she watched him pour a glass. Raising it to her mouth, she took a delicate sip, savoured it for a moment, then nodded and dabbed daintily at her lips with her napkin. ‘Very nice,’ she murmured. ‘Just the way I like it.’ Would you just listen to her? She, who wouldn’t know the difference between claret and cooking sherry!

She took comfort from the fact that she wasn’t really deceiving him. It was just that since she’d accepted his invitation she was obligated to see that she didn’t spoil his evening. She had to make an effort to make herself sound agreeable and interesting. And it was working! She could tell by the way those eyes of his seldom left her face.

There was one sticky moment, when he asked her whereabouts in Scotland her parents lived.

‘Oh, you’ll never have heard of it,’ she said casually. ‘It’s called Kindarroch. In the Western Highlands. Nothing much goes on up there.’

‘And that’s why you decided to come and live in London?’ he suggested with an understanding smile. ‘You certainly don’t look like one of the hunting, shooting and fishing set. I somehow can’t see you tramping over the estate in gumboots with the Labrador at your heels.’

Estate, she thought? Who’d mentioned anything about an estate? Still, if he wanted to believe that she was one of the minor Scottish aristocracy that was fine by her. When they got to know each other better they’d laugh about it together. But it only went to prove that she seemed to have ‘style’ after all.

He had lovely hands, she thought as she watched him refill her glass. Well-formed and well-manicured, sensitive, yet strong and competent-looking. He had a thick gold ring set with a ruby on his little finger.

There was something else she was beginning to notice about him, and that was the aura of power and unspoken authority evident in the relaxed way he conducted himself. His mere presence seemed to dominate the room. The hovering waiters were always ready with a fresh bottle or a clean napkin at his slightest gesture. And she doubted if there was a woman in the place who didn’t keep glancing towards him.

Looking back on it now, she still wasn’t clear how she’d ended up back in his hotel suite. It was true that the wine had gone to her head, but she remembered agreeing enthusiastically with him when he’d said that the night was still young and that it would be a pity to end their new-found friendship when the meal was over. It had been words to that effect, anyway, but the undeniable fact was that she had been out of her depth and completely under his spell. She’d been captivated…enthralled…enraptured… And the thought of the consequences had never entered her head.

It had only been when they were in his spacious, luxurious lounge, and he’d removed his jacket and tie and invited her to kick off her shoes and make herself comfortable, that she’d had the first stirrings of doubt about the situation she’d landed herself in.

Well, it was too late now, wasn’t it? she’d thought. And, anyway, the man was a gentleman—anyone could see that. If he became over-amorous she would make it quite clear to him that she wasn’t that kind of girl and he wouldn’t push the matter. He’d probably respect her all the more, wouldn’t he?

As he’d poured a couple of drinks at the built-in bar he’d pressed a remote control. The lights had dimmed and soft music came from hidden speakers. Looking around, she hadn’t failed to be impressed by the size and sheer luxury of the place.

‘Do you always stay in hotels like this?’ she asked with a frown. ‘It must be terribly expensive. Wouldn’t it be cheaper to have a flat of your own?’

‘Cheaper, yes,’ he agreed. ‘But not nearly so convenient.’ He handed her a glass, then raised his hand to stroke and feel the soft texture of her hair. ‘A man only needs a house if he feels the desire to put down roots, Catriona. But that only happens if he’s lucky enough to find a very special woman. Some woman to share his life and his dreams of raising a family.’

The backs of his fingers were lightly brushing the soft, tender skin of her neck and the glass trembled in her hand. ‘I…I’m sure you will, Ryan,’ she said with the breath catching in her throat. She suddenly needed to sit down…badly…but his eyes were holding her with an enervating magnetism.

‘Yes…’ he breathed softly. ‘Perhaps I already have, Catriona. I was giving up hope until now.’

‘W-were you?’

‘Why do you think I asked you about the flats in Palmerston Court?’

She gulped. ‘As…as an investment, you said…’

He smiled at her innocence. ‘Let’s just say that the instant fate thrust you into my arms I knew my dreams hadn’t been in vain.’ He gently removed the drink from her shaking hand and placed it beside his own on the coffee table, then he took her by the shoulders and looked down into the depths of her wide blue eyes.