Sarah Holland - The Dominant Male

Cover Page

Excerpt “Won’t you sitdown, Mr…?” “Stone,” he said softly, and smiled as he sank down into the chair opposite her, his powerful body making her nerves quiver as he put his hands behind his strong dark head, leaning back, watching her from below hooded eyelids. “Gabriel Stone.” “An unusual name,” Rhiannon said conversationally. “Although deeply classical.” “One of the four archangels. Gabriel, Raphael, Michael and Hod. A divine quartet. Untouched by sin.” His blue eyes glittered. “Unlike me.” “Ah, yes. ‘Angel by name, sinner by nature.’ Where did I read that?”

About the Author SARAH HOLLAND was born in Kent and brought up in London. She began writing at eighteen because she loved the warmth and excitement of Harlequin books. She has traveled the world, living in Hong Kong, the south of France and Holland. She attended a drama school, and was a nightclub singer and a songwriter. She now lives on the Isle of Man. Her hobbies are acting, singing, painting and psychology. She loves buying clothes, noisy dinner parties and being busy.

Title Page The Dominant Male Sarah Holland www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication For Alejandro Carillo de Albornoz

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

Copyright

“Stone,” he said softly, and smiled as he sank down into the chair opposite her, his powerful body making her nerves quiver as he put his hands behind his strong dark head, leaning back, watching her from below hooded eyelids. “Gabriel Stone.”

“An unusual name,” Rhiannon said conversationally. “Although deeply classical.”

“One of the four archangels. Gabriel, Raphael, Michael and Hod. A divine quartet. Untouched by sin.” His blue eyes glittered. “Unlike me.”

“Ah, yes. ‘Angel by name, sinner by nature.’ Where did I read that?”

was born in Kent and brought up in London. She began writing at eighteen because she loved the warmth and excitement of Harlequin books. She has traveled the world, living in Hong Kong, the south of France and Holland. She attended a drama school, and was a nightclub singer and a songwriter. She now lives on the Isle of Man. Her hobbies are acting, singing, painting and psychology. She loves buying clothes, noisy dinner parties and being busy.

The Dominant Male

Sarah Holland

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Alejandro Carillo de Albornoz

RHIANNON attracted attention just by walking across the lawns.

Dressed in scarlet and gold, as a wild, dark-haired gyspy, she was not only ravishing but rather out of place among the respectable and wealthy guests.

Kohl made her green eyes smoulder, her midriff was bare, and she wore gold bells in her ears, around her neck, on her wrists and around her slender, scented ankles.

She looked like an exotic, seductive slave.

And suddenly she sensed a man watching her.

Her green eyes flicked to him, a dark, sidelong look from below her sooty lashes. A quiver of excitement and fear ran through her, as though she knew he would one day command her life, fill her senses and be the centre of her world.

Fanciful stuff…but he was gorgeous.

Tall, very tall, with jet-black hair and steel-blue eyes which dazzled her with their life-force and inner power. His smile was clever, knowing and admiring. His mouth was very tough. So was his hard-boned, cynical-looking face.

In fact, he had an air of absolute power about him that was formidable, and made every pulse in her body jump to attention.

As their eyes met her step faltered.

She felt her heart flutter in brief, wild response, staring at every inch of him as he stood watching her, a glass of champagne in one hand, silver cuff-links gleaming at strong, dark-haired wrists, his powerful body impeccably dressed in an expensive black suit.

A sense of déjà vu washed over her in hot-cold waves, and the dazzling green of her eyes seemed the only emotion-filled part of her otherwise still face.

Suddenly the spell shattered.

A little girl in a red dress was being chased by a naughty boy with a water pistol. The girl hurtled into Rhiannon, then ran off shrieking with laughter, ribbons flying.

‘Hey!’ Rhiannon laughed as the boy squirted his water pistol at her.

He rat-a-tat-tatted her as though his blue plastic pistol were a machine-gun and then hurtled after his quarry, who was rapidly disappearing behind the drinks marquee.

Smiling affectionately, Rhiannon turned, saw the gorgeous stranger still watching her, and gave him a haughty look. Who did he think he was anyway? Staring at her as though she were a champagne truffle in a shop window…

Turning her back on his laser-blue stare, she told herself that dangerous, exciting men were all very well, but twenty-four-hour-a-day love and friendship were far more important

She walked towards the vast mansion with its white stone unicorns and long red walls. Music came from the indoor swimming pool and elegant guests stood in the slender windows, where white lace curtains fluttered softly in the warm breeze, drinking champagne as they discussed the forthcoming raffle.

And there was Bobby, standing by the white pillars and statues around the pool, drinking orange juice, for he never touched alcohol, and talking to a group of kindly elderly women.

He turned and saw her. A calm smile touched his face. He spoke briefly to the women, who smiled and nodded understandingly, then walked across towards Rhiannon.

At once she turned, hot green eyes staring across to that man, the dark, powerful man by the lake. He was still watching her. She decided to make a show of her relationship with Bobby just to teach him not to stare at her.

‘Darling!’ Bobby lumbered up and kissed her chastely on the cheek. ‘What brings you out here? I thought you were busy telling fortunes and having your palm crossed with silver.’

‘I wanted to see you.’

‘Splendid!’

‘I wanted a kiss!’

‘Gosh!’

‘Anything wrong with that, my darling Bobby?’ Rhiannon twined her slender jewelled wrists around his neck, deeply aware of the blue-eyed man still watching.

‘Nothing wrong with it at all!’ said Bobby, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

She kissed his mouth softly, lingeringly. He was a tall, thickset man. He looked more like a farmer than an executive. He dressed as he lived: traditionally, conventionally, quietly, understatedly.

And he hated public show.

That was why his neck was going brick-red as Rhiannon kissed him in front of all these people.

‘Darling,’ he said under his breath, ‘do please keep your passions under control! What on earth will the ladies from the committee think?’

‘That we’re in love, engaged to be married and—’

‘And thoroughly scandalous!’ He gently disentangled her arms from around his neck. ‘Come along, now. Behave!’

She felt herself redden hotly, aware of the dark stranger watching them, a cynical smile on his tough mouth. He had seen the rejection and it had told him all he needed to know. Rhiannon could have kicked herself for being so stupid. What on earth had made her think Bobby would let her kiss him like that in public? They might have been engaged for a year after seeing each other for four, but that didn’t mean that the stable, reliable, down-to-earth Bobby would change just for her to show some insolent stranger that she was already spoken for.