The Hostage Bride (10 page)

He was having a hard time getting his head round this, all the more so because at certain points since this morning he'd actually come to start doubting Maria's version of the story. He'd even doubted the reports he'd been given about Felicity. The stories of her long, long nights spent at the same nightclub.

Those damn tears of hers had got to him—the tears and the delicate vulnerability of her beauty had ruined his usually very rational judgement.

Foolishly he'd allowed himself to be swayed by the way she looked, the way she seemed. And because he'd actually started to feel sorry for her, to cast himself as the villain in all this, the kickback of anger and disappointment was all the more bitter now. At his sides his hands clenched over the edge of the worktop against which he was leaning, tightening until the knuckles showed white as he struggled to rein in his dangerously savage temper.

‘You didn't love him?' he barked coldly, deriving some satisfaction from the way that the sound of his voice
brought her head up sharply, smoke grey eyes widening in shock.

‘No I didn't love him. It—it was just a marriage of convenience.'

‘Very convenient.'

His sneering tone and the look of censure he subjected her to was positively the last straw.

‘Of course you wouldn't understand that!' she flung at him, defiance laced with bitterness burning on her tongue.

‘I have to admit that I don't,' was the swift reply, the lazily indifferent drawl hiding a cool condemnation that caught her on the raw like the stinging flick of a whip.

‘No, you wouldn't know what it's like to need money really desperately—the sort of money you can never possibly afford to repay. More money than you could ever hope to earn in your lifetime! I suppose to you it would be just pocket money! Something you could toss aside without even noticing it.'

‘Are you suggesting that
I
should pay off your debts?'

‘
No!
Oh, no! That's the last thing I want.'

‘Is it?'

Slowly Rico straightened up from where he had been leaning against the marble worktop, his movement indolently controlled. But all the same Felicity flinched inside at the thought of the leashed power of his body, the honed strength of every muscle and sinew, the unyielding hardness of bone that made up his impressive physique. He made her think of some ruthless predator silently prowling through the night, waiting for the perfect moment to spring. She couldn't stay sitting down any longer and pushed herself to her feet as she angrily refuted the accusation.

‘Of course it is! It never even crossed my mind!'

‘Then perhaps it should have done.'

‘What?'

Stupefied, she could only stare at him with shock-hazed
eyes, her pupils wide and unfocussed. Had he really said what she thought she had heard? But even if he had, there was a black irony about the situation that made her quail inside. He couldn't pay off her debts—her father's debts—because
he
was the person the money was owed to. He was offering to give her the money to pay himself back, and he didn't even realise it.

‘What—what did you say?'

Rico's sensual mouth curled briefly at the corners into the sort of smile that held no warmth but instead sent a sensation of something cold and nastily slimy slithering slowly down the length of her spine.

‘I simply suggested that, seeing as your scheme to marry into the aristocracy has come to a grinding halt, then perhaps the next logical step would be for you to find another suitable candidate. Someone else to help you out of your financial difficulties.'

‘And you are putting yourself forward as that “suitable candidate”?'

His shrug dismissed the shake of disbelief in her voice in the same moment that his eyes challenged her to test out her theory.

‘Would you really?'

It slipped past her unguarded lips before she had a chance to bite it back. Perhaps she had him all wrong. Perhaps he really did want to help.

Her heart gave a sudden, unexpected little skip of hope. Was it possible that Rico too had experienced something of the same sort of tug of attraction that she felt towards him? Perhaps if she told him the truth they could work something out.

‘You'd do that for me?'

This time his smile was all cruelty, fiendish and malign.

‘For a price.'

‘Oh!'

All her new-found hope fled like air escaping from a pricked balloon, destroyed before it had fully formed. All she was left with was a terrible sense of disillusionment and desolation, the feeling all the more devastating because of the momentary experience of hope she had allowed herself to feel just a moment before.

‘And I suppose I don't have to ask what that price would be?'

It was there, in the darkness of his eyes, the intensity of his gaze. It was stamped into the sensual appreciation that showed on his face, written so clearly that she could almost see the words burning between them in letters of fire.

The price of her salvation was her, in this man's bed, for as long as he chose.

‘You want me to—to sleep with you. You want to buy my body for your use!'

He didn't even make a pretence at denying it, though he shrugged off her indignant fury with another casual lift of those powerful shoulders under the navy shirt.

‘I want more of what we shared this morning,' he stated bluntly, ebony eyes locking with furious grey. ‘I'm not ashamed to admit that. I enjoyed—hell, I more than enjoyed it! I've never known anything like it in my life, and I'd pay any price to experience that again.'

I'd pay any price
—he really knew how to hurt. The words stabbed straight to her heart, slashing into the vulnerable core of her. All he was offering her was a sexual affair. All he wanted from her was more sex, more passion—with no emotion thrown in. And he thought that
he
was the one paying a price for it.

With an effort that cost her more than she dared admit to, she forced herself to draw herself up, face that coldly challenging expression with at least a pretence at calm when deep down she was dying inside.

‘Well, you can you can relax, Señor I-Want-More
Valeron. More importantly, you can keep your precious cash in whatever Swiss bank account you've hidden it. I wouldn't touch it if I was desperate.'

‘But you are desperate,' Rico reminded her brutally.

‘Not
that
desperate!' Felicity flung back at him, her throat aching with all she was keeping back. ‘I wouldn't touch your money to save my life! I don't want anything from you—anything at all!'

‘You're a liar,' he returned with deadly softness. ‘You want this every bit as much as I do.'

‘No, I don't!'

If she said it often enough, loudly enough, she might actually convince him. She would never convince herself; she'd accepted that already. No matter how many times she said she didn't want him, her poor, weak, foolish heart would never accept it as the truth.

‘I don't want you—I don't want your money—I don't want anything from you, ever!'

‘But you were prepared to take what Venables offered. You didn't think twice, then—practically snatched his hand off without thinking. I can give you more than he ever could…'

He really believed she could do it. He really thought that she could just substitute one rich man for another without a tinge of conscience. Felicity's stomach heaved nauseously and she had to reach out a shaking hand to rest on the nearest chair for support to hold herself upright.

‘Financially, perhaps! But that's all!'

She felt as if she was fighting for her life; as if, emotionally at least, she had been driven into a dangerous corner, with her back well and truly up against the wall.

‘Edward was prepared to give me more than that.'

‘Oh, sure!' Rico scorned. ‘In what way?'

‘He offered me marriage! That's what makes the difference! He didn't just suggest I occupied his bed for the
night, became his—his mistress—his sex toy! He offered me a ring and his name—I take it that doesn't come with the deal you're suggesting?'

She knew his answer before he spoke. It was there in the sudden change in his face, the bleakness of his eyes, the clamping tight of the beautiful mouth into a thin, harsh line of rejection of even the thought.

‘No way,' he muttered roughly. ‘I have more pride—'

‘And so do I!'

Somehow she managed to lift her chin proudly, stare him straight in the eye, deliberately blanking out her thoughts so that he wouldn't be able to tell how she was bleeding to death inside.

‘I have more pride than to accept the second-rate deal you suggest. The price tag attached to it is way too high. If you offered me all the money you possessed and I had to take you too, then it would still come far too expensive! I'd rather go back to working all day and all night to pay off my fa—my debts bit by bit, even if it takes me the rest of my life!'

Which it probably would, she acknowledged miserably. She would have to go home and tell her father that she hadn't been able to save him. She would have to be there for her mother when Claire Hamilton found out the truth about her husband's behaviour. But she had no alternative. Anything, even that, was better than becoming this man's sex slave.

‘Esta bien!'
Rico's response was clipped, curt, icy cold. ‘I will not ask again.'

‘I won't give you the chance!' Felicity declared fervently. ‘Because after today if I never, ever see you again it will be just the way I want things.'

Her betrayed heart cried out in anguished protest at the damage her lie had inflicted on it but she forced herself to ignore it, once more hiding behind the mask of control that
she had used so often she was actually beginning to feel accustomed to it.

‘And now, if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you kept your word and let me leave.'

The mask wavered just for a second, threatened to slip, when he actually hesitated and it looked for a moment as if he might be about to retract his agreement to her leaving.

‘I can go home?' she questioned shakily, only relaxing when he inclined his dark head in agreement.

‘Of course. I'll fetch the car. We can leave at once.'

And if she had needed any more evidence as to just how little her feelings, her response to his suggestion, had meant to him it was there in the ease with which he accepted her decision, the speed with which he prepared to take her home.

He didn't even feel she was worth arguing with, and he had dismissed her from his thoughts in the space of a heartbeat.

And the pain that casual cruelty caused brought home to Felicity the appalling truth that things would never be that way for her. She would never be able to switch off from Rico as he had done from her. In fact, she doubted that she would ever be able to forget him for the rest of her life, and with that doubt came a warning that the pain she was feeling now was really only the beginning.

‘I
T'S
on the right, here…'

As Rico manoeuvred the car into the centre of the road and then round the corner she had indicated, Felicity sank back into her seat with a sigh of intense relief and closed her eyes in the first real moment of relaxation she had known for almost thirty-six hours.

They were here. They had reached the street where she lived and the nightmare her life had become was almost all over. In another couple of minutes, Rico would park outside the large old Victorian house on the first floor of which she had a tiny, one-bedroomed flat, and she would be able to get out and walk away.

She was determined she would do so without a backward glance, no matter what it would cost her. She wouldn't give him so much as a hint of the way he had hurt her, the misery that was eating her up inside. She would say goodbye, keeping her tone as casual as possible, perhaps even manage an airy wave, and then she would walk firmly into the house and close the door on him.

What would happen after that, the way she might react once the defence of the solid wooden door was in place, she didn't know. She didn't even want to consider it now; it would weaken her too much. The time would come soon enough, and then…

‘What the…?'

Rico's harsh exclamation, the faint screech of the brakes as he performed an abrupt emergency stop, had her eyes flying open in shock to stare at him in dazed bemusement.

‘What is it? What's wrong? Is there…'

The words died on her tongue as Rico's silent nod of his dark head drew her attention forward and through the windscreen to where a large crowd had gathered on the doorstep of one of the properties halfway down the road. There were perhaps twenty-five or more men and women, all just standing about, chatting desultorily, making her frown in confused bewilderment.

‘Who—what are they doing?'

But even as she spoke things came more into focus and realisation dawned like a blow to her head.

The crowd wasn't just gathered there for some casual meeting. They were there for a purpose—and that purpose was clear from the cameras and microphones they held, the vans parked on each side of the street, the names of television and radio stations emblazoned on their sides. And they weren't outside just any house in the street, but one in particular—the house where she lived.

‘They're reporters!' she gasped. ‘Something must have happened…'

‘
You've
happened,' Rico returned with cynical emphasis. ‘You and the wedding of the year—the wedding that never was.'

He slammed his fist hard against the steering wheel in a gesture of angry frustration.

‘I should have seen this coming. I should have known!'

‘No, that can't…' Felicity began but she couldn't complete the sentence because even as she spoke there was a change in the group outside her house.

Someone looked up, their attention caught by the way the car had stopped and was still stationary in the middle of the road, not going anywhere, but not parking either.

‘They've noticed us.' Rico spoke sharply, the edge to his voice communicating a mood that made her tense sharply, nerves twisting tight as she sat upright in her seat. ‘They're coming.'

And the bunch of people was in fact in motion, all of them heading their way. Through the open window Felicity could already hear the buzz of intrigued, excited conversation and it made her skin prickle with unease.

‘You're going to have to make a decision. Do we stay or do we go?'

‘Go where? There is nowhere else to go.'

When she'd told Rico to bring her here, to her flat, it had been because she couldn't think of anywhere else. If she went to her parents' house she would have to face their concern, their questions, her father's fears about his future—and she wasn't ready for that. She needed a little time on her own; time to draw breath and collect her thoughts, before she could face anyone again.

‘That's your choice. But if you don't make it fast we won't be able to get out of here.'

‘But I don't want to go anywhere! I want to go home.'

‘Right—that's your decision. But don't expect this to be pleasant.'

He edged the car to the side of the road where already the reporters were gathering, swarming round the vehicle, brandishing microphones and cameras. Felicity flinched back in her seat, crying out in shock as the flash of a dozen or so bulbs exploded right in her face it seemed, blinding her momentarily.

‘What is it? What's going on?'

She had her hand on the door as she spoke, but before she could open it, Rico caught her arm, holding her back.

‘One word of advice,' he said sharply. ‘Don't say a word—not even “no comment”. Just keep your mouth shut, your head down, and walk straight through them. It'll be easier for you that way.'

‘Easier? But you must have it wrong. They can't have come to see
me
! I mean, why would they? What…?'

But even as she spoke the sounds from outside reached
her. Loud and assertive, and determined to be heard. And every single person was calling her name.

‘Felicity…'

‘Miss Hamilton…'

‘Just a minute of your time, Felicity…'

‘Just a couple of questions…'

Panic clutched at her throat, her heart pounding fearfully, and she turned to Rico with wide, stunned eyes.

‘I can't! I can't go out there.'

‘You have to,' he told her firmly. ‘It's too late to turn back now. If you want to get to your flat you're going to have to go through them. It's that or get out of here fast.'

If she wanted to get to her flat! To Felicity, who could just see the window of her sitting room through the press of people round the car, the thought of her small, shabby apartment seemed like some peaceful haven, a refuge from the storm that had so suddenly and unexpectedly erupted around her. She had never wanted to be anywhere so much in all her life.

‘Don't worry…'

Once again Rico seemed to have picked up on her thoughts.

‘I'll be right behind you and I'll stay with you every step of the way.'

That wasn't exactly how she'd planned that things would be. The idea of Rico coming with her, of him coming into her flat, into her home, shook what little was left of Felicity's composure. It was disturbing, uncomfortable, unwanted—but at the same time so comforting that she knew she couldn't refuse it.

Drawing in a deep, calming breath, she straightened her shoulders and swallowed hard.

‘Let's get this over with…' she muttered and pushed open the door.

It was like stepping out into the eye of a storm. All
around her there was noise, the whirr of camera shutters, the pop of flash bulbs, the shuffle of footsteps on the pavement. And all the time there was the sound of her name—‘Felicity…Felicity…Felicity…' Over and over and over again, mixed with the constant cries of, ‘Just one question…'

She was pushed and harassed, jostled and bruised, microphones were shoved right into her face so that she had to jerk her head backwards for fear they might actually bang into her mouth.

‘Why did you do it, Felicity? Did you have second thoughts? Wedding day nerves?'

‘Did you ever love him really? Or were you just…?'

‘When did you meet Ricardo Valeron? Where…?'

She couldn't do this! Panic froze her feet to the ground, blinded her eyes, so that she couldn't move or see a way through. She didn't even know which direction led to her flat, couldn't have made it there if she tried. She felt as if she was drowning in a sea of bodies and questions and very definitely going down for the third time.

‘Rico!'

It was a wail of panic, high-pitched and tight, but it was swallowed up in the furore surrounding her, lost in the waves of noise that swirled round her head.

But then, just as she was about to lose control completely, suddenly Rico was there at her side, tall and strong and solidly dependable. A source of support and calm in a world gone mad.

One arm came round her shoulders, heavy and warm, drawing her close to him so that her cheek was against his chest, her face protected from the cameras and microphones by the shielding fingers of one powerful hand. Instinctively her hands went round his waist, clutching at his jacket for support.

‘Just walk…' he said calmly in her ear, the warmth of
his breath caressing her skin. ‘Just put one foot in front of the other and don't stop. I'll make sure you're going the right way.'

She could do nothing but obey him. Incapable of thinking for herself she let him half walk, half carry her on to the pavement and slowly, gradually, through the crowd.

And now the cameras were turned in his direction, the questions directed at him.

‘Where did you two meet, Ricardo?'

‘Is this true love or just another take-over deal?'

‘When can we expect to hear an announcement? A wedding date?'

But if they expected any answers, they were disappointed. Rico neither said a word nor reacted in any way. Instead he just kept on walking steadily and easily, pushing his way through the crowd, heading directly for the house.

There was a moment of uncomfortable hesitation when, at the top of the small flight of steps, he paused and turned to Felicity.

‘Key?'

A sense of despair swept through Felicity, threatening to take her legs from under her. Of course, her keys were with her mother, in the handbag she had been expecting to collect after the ceremony, when she changed out of her wedding dress and into her going away outfit.

‘I don't…' she began, but Rico had already acted.

Noticing what she had missed, the way that the door was in fact not fully closed but that some other tenant, on their way out, had simply let it swing to and the latch hadn't caught, he nudged it open with one elegantly booted foot, swinging her inside with him. Even as they made it indoors, he had turned and slammed the door closed again, right in the faces of the pursuing reporters.

‘That should hold them for a while,' he muttered in grim
satisfaction. ‘At least long enough to give you a breathing space. Now—which flat?'

‘Upstairs—the first door on the right,' Felicity managed, drawing in a deep, uneven breath as she felt some of the tension slip away from her with the realisation that she was safe.

‘I can manage by myself,' she added as Rico offered her his arm again.

The help she had been only too glad to receive outside seemed to have taken on a whole new image in the house and behind closed doors. Somehow, what had seemed only protective and supportive there now felt much more intimate and personal, far harder to accept. It sparked off totally different feelings inside her, making her blood warm in her veins, her heartbeat accelerate dangerously, and sent her hurrying up the stairs with her skin tingling alarmingly.

And Rico was still there, just behind her, keeping his distance but at the same time making it plain that if she needed him he was there, ready to help. It seemed he felt the change too because he didn't touch her at all but held back, coming to a careful halt several feet away from her, his long body held stiff and taut, preserving the distance between them.

‘At least I do have a key for this door…'

She tried for laughter but felt it fade as he watched her take her key from its hiding place on top of the door frame, his frown revealing only too clearly his disapproval of such a casual disregard for security.

‘Not exactly sensible,' was his dry comment, his tone catching Felicity on the raw.

‘I don't care if you think it's sensible!' she tossed back at him. ‘Everyone else in this house is a friend—I trust them. Besides, it's not as if there's anything anyone would want to steal in here…'

She was struggling to appear relaxed but found herself
failing miserably when the hand that held the key shook so much in the aftermath of her ordeal outside that she found it impossible to push it into the lock. Rico was itching to move forward and take it from her in order to do the job himself, she knew, but she repelled him with a glare, managing it on the second attempt, and throwing the door open on a slightly wild gesture.

‘See!' she announced, indicating the small green and cream painted sitting room with a wave of her hand. ‘Hardly Highson House, is it?'

No, that had been a mistake—a bad one. It had reminded Rico of the reason why she had said she was marrying Edward, putting the frown back on his face, and the distance into his eyes.

‘But I love it,' she added with hasty defensiveness. ‘It may be a bit run-down and hardly luxurious, but it's home. Come in quickly before that howling pack of hyenas outside finds their way in here.'

‘I think we're safe enough for a while,' Rico replied, though he followed her into the room so that she could close the door firmly behind them. ‘They're unlikely to follow us in here. But it'll be a different story when you need to go out again.'

Felicity shuddered at just the thought.

‘But surely they'll give up before then? They'll get tired of waiting…'

She let the sentence trail off as Rico strode over to the window, holding the curtain back with one bronzed hand as he looked down into the street below.

‘Does it look as if this lot is ready to give up?' he enquired sardonically. ‘It looks more as if they're planning to stay the night.'

Coming to his side, Felicity peered out too, fear clenching in her stomach as she saw the reporters, still gathered in a pack like the hunting dogs she had compared them to,
on and around the doorstep. Some small movement she made must have caught someone's eye because even as she stood there, all the heads lifted as one and turned towards her. Cameras swung in her direction; flash bulbs exploded, sending her reeling back into the centre of the room, and all her hard-won composure vanished in a second.