Tycoon's Choice: Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal
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Weakly, she took it.
Pouring himself a whisky, he sat down opposite and regarded her. He looked eminently satisfied, she decided resentfully, Wellaware that he was the master of the situation. Wellaware that she knew it.
From being a life-saver, she thought bleakly, this offer of a job had turned into a nightmare. Sipping the unwanted sherry, she stared into the flames, trying to sort out the confusion in her mind. Surely being offered a post in Rafe’s house was too much of a coincidence?
Yet it couldn’t have been planned…Or could it?
But if it had been planned, why? What could Rafe possibly hope to gain?
The answer was, he had nothing to gain and everything to lose if Fiona found out.
But still the suspicion was there, and Madeleine wondered, had Rafe, for whatever reason, put his godmother up to it? Had George Rampling really any need for a physiotherapist, or had the whole thing been an elaborate hoax?
Though how could they possibly have known she was coming back to England? It had been such a last-minute decision that no one other than Eve and Noel had known.
Except Katie.
She had emailed the child late on Saturday night, so it would have been the following morning before she read it, and later on that same day Mrs Rampling had contacted Grizedale Clinic…
But how had she known to do that? How could she have known…?
‘Penny for your thoughts.’ Rafe’s voice sounded amused, a little mocking.
Madeleine looked up slowly and met those gleaming eyes. ‘Does Mr Rampling really need physiotherapy, or was the whole thing just a pack of lies?’
‘No, everything that Harriet told you was true. She’s been on the lookout for a live-in physiotherapist for weeks now.’
‘So are you saying that my being here is nothing but a coincidence?’
Rafe raised an eyebrow mockingly. ‘Would you believe that?’
‘No,’ she replied sternly.
He smiled briefly. ‘I wouldn’t have expected you to. As a matter of fact it was carefully planned.’
Fear sidled up to her and took her hand. With a sickening feeling that she’d walked into some kind of a trap, she felt her mouth go dry and the blood in her veins turn to ice.
Putting the sherry glass on the table with shaking fingers, she crossed her arms and rubbed her palms up and down her bare arms as though she was cold.
The last time they had met, he’d said, ‘One day we’ll meet again…’ That was all. He hadn’t said what he would do when they did meet, but there had been an underlying threat in the quietly spoken words, a hint of menace, that even now made her shiver at the memory.
Making an effort to fight off the panic, she told herself stoutly that she was just being silly. What could he possibly do to her?
But there was a hardness about him, a barely leashed anger, that made her afraid.
Unsteadily, she demanded, ‘How did you know I was coming home?’
‘How do you think?’
‘Katie?’
‘Got it in one. Knowing I was—shall we say?—interested, Diane has been keeping me up-to-date on what was happening in Boston. When she got your email, Katie was so excited she couldn’t wait to tell her mother.’ The ice clinked in his whisky glass as he took a sip.
‘That still doesn’t explain how you found out enough to be able to trick me into coming here. How you knew I was looking for a live-in post. Only Eve…’ She stopped speaking abruptly.
Remembering their last conversation, her friend’s strange volte-face, her obvious uneasiness, the way she had admitted to having second thoughts, Madeleine asked sharply, ‘When did you talk to Eve?’
‘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?’
Chapter Six
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.
Or was she?
Though she took care not to look up, she was aware that his eyes seldom left her face. That steady regard was nerve-racking; it made her feel like some specimen on the end of a cruel pin.
The main course over, he removed the plates and helped her to a generous portion of apple pie and a piece of white Stilton.
So he’d remembered that she preferred cheese to cream with her apple pie, she thought as she glanced up unwarily, and met those brilliant, heavily lashed eyes. Twin candle flames were reflected in the black pupils, and, fascinated, mesmerised, she found herself unable to look away.
After what seemed an age, he broke the spell by saying conversationally, ‘So tell me what’s been happening since I last saw you.’
‘I thought you were being kept informed,’ she responded tartly.
Unruffled, he said, ‘There are some important things I still don’t know for sure. For example, why you ran away to Boston in the first place…’
Well, if he didn’t know, she had no intention of telling him.
‘I presumed it was because of Noel, that the pair of you had split when he discovered how you’d been two-timing him…’
He was a fine one to talk about two-timing, she thought bitterly.
When she said nothing, Rafe pursued, ‘You certainly fooled me with that pretend shyness, that butter-wouldn’t-melt routine.
‘Though I should have realised by the way you disappeared at regular intervals with no explanation that you weren’t the sweet innocent you pretended to be, nevertheless it came as quite a shock to discover just what kind of woman you were…’
Yes, she could still visualise his expression. He wasn’t used to having the tables turned on him.
‘So how many other men have you managed to fascinate and delude since then?’ Rafe’s question brought her back to the present with a bump.
When she looked at him mutely, he said, ‘I know of at least one who wanted to marry you. Alan, I believe his name was.’
It must have been Eve who had told him, she realised. When she had mentioned Alan in her emails to Katie, it had been simply as a colleague.
‘Did he get angry when he realised you’d been stringing him along? Is that why you came home?’ His voice was full of resentment.
‘I’m not in the habit of stringing men along,’ she said stiffly.
‘If you weren’t stringing him along, why didn’t you marry him?’ he asked.
Madeleine’s eyes dropped from his gaze. ‘I didn’t love him enough.’
‘Not counting your husband, have you ever truly loved any man?’
A bitter, cold, gritty feeling in the centre of her chest brought such pain that Madeleine felt tears sting her eyes, and was forced to bend her head while she blinked them away.
He laughed mirthlessly. ‘No, I thought not.’
‘Well, you’re wrong,’ she flared, then, terrified he might have guessed, added with perfect truth, ‘I’ve always loved Noel.’
‘Clearly not enough, or you wouldn’t have been happy to cheat on him…No, I’m afraid I don’t seriously believe you’ve ever cared a jot about any man. Though there must have been plenty of men who loved you. Different men, but they were all drawn into the same old game, danced to the same old tune.’ He moved to stand closer to her. ‘But now those games are over, and, for the foreseeable future at least, I’ll be the one calling the tune.’
‘I—I don’t know what you mean,’ she stammered.
His little smile was like a breath of cold air on the back of her neck. ‘I mean that everything has gone according to plan and you’re here with me. Now all I have to do is keep you with me.’
‘I might be stuck here for tonight because of the snow—which incidentally I don’t believe even you could have arranged—’
With a wry grin, he said, ‘I have to admit that the snow was fortuitous.’
‘But I shall certainly be leaving first thing in the morning.’ She tried to sound confident.
‘I shouldn’t bet on it.’
Going to the window, he drew aside the heavy red velvet curtains. Through the diamond-leaded panes she could see that thick snow, whipped along by a fierce wind, was swirling past.
‘The previous owner admitted that during a bad winter this area, and the hall, can be snowed up for days at a time,’ he added.
While her skin crawled with apprehension, she made a determined effort to put the situation on a more prosaic footing. ‘Wouldn’t you find being snowed up very inconvenient?’
‘Just at the moment I find it the exact opposite,’ he answered smoothly.
She ignored that, and, taking a deep breath, ploughed on determinedly. ‘What made you decide to move to the country?’
‘I was tired of living in town. I’d always intended to move to a rural area when the right house came on the market…’
Madeleine was surprised; she had always thought of Rafe as a sophisticated city man. But then she had been wrong about so many things.
‘As soon as I saw this place I knew it was what I’d been waiting for.’
‘So you gave up your flat at Denver Court?’
‘No, I still have it. It comes in handy for the odd night or weekend I want to spend in town.’
Relaxing a little, and determined to lighten the mood, she asked, ‘Don’t you find commuting a pain?’
‘Not really. These days I work from home a good deal of the time. When I need to go into London I use a small chopper I pilot myself.’
‘I didn’t know you had a pilot’s licence.’
He swished the curtain to, then suddenly he was by her side, looming over her. ‘There are a lot of things you don’t know about me. A lot you still have to learn.’ A brittleness to his voice, he went on, ‘For instance, I don’t like being made a fool of by any woman, especially one I imagined loved me…’
The tension suddenly tightening like a hempen noose around her throat, she gazed up at him with wide, greeny-blue eyes. ‘That’s why I inveigled you here.’
That answered the first of her questions, but not the second. ‘I can’t imagine what you hope to gain,’ she burst out agitatedly.
‘Can’t you?’
Watching her bite her lip, he glanced in the direction of the thick sheepskin rug. ‘Shall we move in front of the fire and—?’
Flinching away, she cried hoarsely, ‘No!’
He raised a dark, mocking brow. ‘Anyone would think I was about to strip you naked and have my wicked way with you.’
When, her heart pounding against her ribs, she said nothing, he added softly, ‘But that comes later…’
‘If you lay a finger on me, I’ll scream.’
He clicked his tongue. ‘How melodramatic. Unfortunately, there’s no one to hear you.’
‘There’s Mrs Boyce and her husband.’
‘They’ve retired for the night…And, as their accommodation is several hundred yards away, above the old stable block, you’d have to scream very loudly indeed.’
She swallowed, her throat tight and dry. ‘There must be other servants…’
‘What staff I have live in modern bungalows on the estate. I’m afraid we’re quite alone, so screaming would be useless.
‘In any case, it’s unnecessary at the moment. I was only going to suggest that we had our coffee in front of the fire.’
Feeling a little foolish, and realising vexedly that that was what he’d intended, she crossed to the hearth and sat down on the big leather couch while he collected the glass coffee jug from the hotplate.
Surely this was just some cat-and-mouse game he was playing in order to frighten her? she thought distractedly. And if it was, all she needed to do was keep calm and refuse to be frightened.
Which was easier said than done.
And if it wasn’t?
No, she couldn’t let herself think that way. There was only tonight to get through.
Only?
Then tomorrow morning she would find some way of leaving, she promised herself, even if she had to abandon her cases and walk…
‘Planning your escape?’
She jumped, and as her colour started to rise he laughed. ‘I’ve hit the nail on the head if that blush is anything to go by.’
How could he walk in and out of her mind like that? she wondered agitatedly as she accepted the cup of coffee he handed her.
He sat down beside her and, as though answering her question, went on, ‘You have a very expressive face. Just then you looked fiercely determined…
‘But I remember when you used to look eager and expectant, full of anticipation, hungry with desire and passion. Then afterwards, soft and dreamy, sated with love…’
‘Stop it!’ she cried.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Does the remembrance make you uncomfortable? As you profess to have loved Noel, do you regret two-timing him?’
‘I regret ever meeting you,’ she cried.
‘Life’s full of regrets. When we were in bed together, did you ever think of him? Regret that he wasn’t the one holding you, making love to you?’
‘Many times,’ she flashed and, seeing the way his mouth tightened, realised with a feeling of triumph that she’d scored a hit, even if it was only his pride that was hurt.
‘Was Alan a good lover?’
Rattled by the unexpected question, she answered sharply, ‘That’s nothing to do with you.’
‘How many other men have you had apart from him?’
‘How many other women have you had apart from—?’ About to say ‘Fiona’, she brought herself up short.
‘Apart from…?’ He raised an eyebrow at her.
When she said nothing, he suggested, ‘You? Well, I—’
She shook her head violently. ‘I don’t want to know. I really don’t care.’
In truth, the idea of him making love to another woman still had the power to hurt. But his question had smacked far too much of the pot calling the kettle black.
Slowly, he said, ‘I can’t say I’ve lived like a monk, Madeleine, but neither am I any Casanova. One woman in my life is enough…’
You could have fooled me, she thought bleakly.
‘But not just any woman will do. In fact my bed’s been empty for quite a while…’
If that was the truth, where was Fiona? Unless she was once again in some clinic?
‘The only thing I’ve had to warm it has been the dream of having you there…’
Though she knew now how faithless he was, her heart seemed to turn over in her breast.
Unable to stand any more, she put her coffee-cup down so that it rattled in the saucer and jumped to her feet. ‘I’m going up to the flat.’
‘Not just yet.’ He caught her wrist and, before she could brace herself, pulled her onto his lap and held her there, both hands encircling her waist.
After a moment’s useless struggle she sat stiff and straight, her head turned away.
‘Relax,’ he said, looking at the pure curve of her cheek. ‘At one time you used to enjoy sitting on my lap in front of the fire…Especially if I—’
‘Well, now I’d hate it!’ she flashed.
‘If I weren’t a perfect gentleman I might move my hands a few inches higher and see whether or not that’s the truth.’
Alarm made her heart race with suffocating speed. Her voice hoarse, she said, ‘You’d be wasting your time. As far as you’re concerned, I’m immune.’
‘I’m not sure I believe you. Your heart’s already beating faster, which, as you swore you weren’t afraid of me, suggests that you want me.’
‘I don’t want you. I don’t love you.’
‘You didn’t love me then, but you’re a very passionate woman and your body always responded to mine without reservations.’
As she made to shake her head, he said, ‘Don’t bother to deny it. There are certain signs that couldn’t be faked. It’s something I’m sure of, and I don’t believe that’s altered. I could easily make you want me…give you a lot of pleasure…’
Boldly, she rejoined, ‘My body possibly…but not my mind…and you once told me that a lot of sexual pleasure is generated in the mind…
‘Now I’d like to go to bed.’
‘Exactly where I want you.’ Taking the pins from her hair, so that it tumbled round her shoulders in a pale cloud, he added softly, ‘It’s high time you made some reparation.’
Jolted, she asked through stiff lips, ‘What is there to make reparation for?’
‘No man likes to be made a fool of, to be taken for a ride then shrugged off—’
‘I didn’t—’ she began.
‘Oh, come! When your long-term lover returned to England you couldn’t get rid of me fast enough. I have to say it rankled…Now I expect you to make up for it…’
So he was out for revenge, out to satisfy his wounded pride.
Her voice choked, she said, ‘I don’t want to go to bed with you. I won’t go to bed with you.’ Then in desperation, ‘You can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to do.’