The Hostage Bride (11 page)

‘Why are they hounding me like this?' she cried. ‘What do they think I've done?'

‘You've given them a story.' was Rico's response. ‘As far as they're concerned they're only doing their job.'

As he spoke he was pulling something from his jacket pocket. He tossed it towards her and she caught it clumsily. It was a sheet from one of the tabloid newspapers, folded up small.

With shaking hands she opened it, smoothed it out, a cry of shock and disbelief escaping her as she saw the headline.

‘SECRETARY DITCHES EARL'S HEIR AT THE ALTAR—Felicity does the dishonourable on the Honourable and runs off with Argentine millionaire.'

‘Where did you get this?'

‘It was on sale at all the motorway services we passed. I bought a copy the time we stopped for coffee.'

When she had been so determined to get back home as quickly as possible that she had only allowed herself the time to gulp down her drink and make a hasty trip to the Ladies, Felicity recalled. She hadn't even spared the newspapers a single glance.

But I didn't “
run off
” with you! They…'

Words failed her as she glanced down at the paper once again.

Beneath the banner headline was a photograph of Edward, elegant in his wedding finery, looking mournful and unhappy with the caption ‘broken-hearted'.

‘No!'

Her legs giving way beneath her, Felicity sank into the nearest chair, still struggling to take it all in.

‘It can't be—Edward wouldn't say that.'

But as she read on she discovered that Edward not only
would
say it, he had. In the report of the ‘wedding of the year that never was' she was being billed as a callous heartbreaker, a shallow flirt with an eye to the main chance who had dangled one man on a string, promising to marry him, only to discard him when another, richer prize came along.

‘That's not how it happened! They can't print this!'

‘They already have done.'

‘But it's not true! Not a single word of it.'

‘No? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought you told me that you were marrying Edward for his money—at least for the money he promised you to pay off your debts.'

His goading incensed her, adding fuel to the fires of emotion that were already burning deep inside her.

‘This is all your fault!' she cried indignantly, screwing the paper into a tight ball and throwing it straight into his impassive face. ‘You started this! If it wasn't for you and your mad kidnapping scheme, Edward and I would have been married by now and I wouldn't have had to go through any of this, seeing my name dragged through the dirt.'

‘And that matters—more than the fact that you didn't get a rich husband to pay off your debts?'

‘Of course it matters! How do you think my parents feel, seeing my name plastered all over the papers like this?'

Except of course that her father believed that the fictitious relationship with Rico was an actual fact.

Felicity groaned and buried her face in her hands in a gesture of despair.

‘Why is this happening to me? All I want is my life back.'

‘I doubt if you'll get that wish for a while.'

Rico was back at the window, standing well away from the glass so that he could observe but not be seen.

‘It looks like the word of your whereabouts has already spread. There are reinforcements arriving every minute.'

Felicity turned pale at the thought.

‘I can't face them, I just can't. Rico—what am I going to do?'

He wouldn't be human if her appeal didn't affect him, Rico reflected inwardly. When she looked at him like that, with her grey eyes dark with distress against the pallor of her cheeks, it tugged at something sharply in his heart. It made him want to forget all he had learned about her earlier, the disillusionment that had set in when he had learned the true reason behind her planned marriage to Edward Venables.

When they had set out from his house earlier that afternoon his plan had been to bring her here, take her home—and leave her. He wanted nothing more to do with her, wanted out of this situation fast. He couldn't be more aware of the way that his intensely physical response to this woman had clouded his thoughts, distorting his thinking, and pushing him into foolish, potentially dangerous action.

But that was just lust—just his body's hunger talking—and lust didn't last. Sooner or later the fires of desire burned themselves out and all you were left with were the rapidly cooling ashes of what had once been a passionate relationship. He'd been there before, and no doubt he'd be there again. But when he did he'd make sure it was with someone very different from this cold-blooded schemer who saw pound signs whenever she looked at men.

But even as the thoughts formed in his mind he knew they were failing to convince him.

‘You can wait it out,' he managed gruffly, refusing to meet the entreaty in her eyes. ‘They'll get tired eventually.'

‘But how long is eventually? A day? A week?'

She glanced towards the window again and the flash of apprehension in her eyes twisted his conscience uncomfortably.

She looked like a little girl curled up in the big green armchair, her legs tucked underneath her, the oversized shirt and jeans swamping her slender body. But he'd been caught that way once before and had regretted it ever since. The impression of vulnerability and defencelessness was nothing but a façade, a mask behind which she hid her true, grasping nature. He wasn't going to put his head in the noose she dangled a second time.

He just wished his mind could convince his body and not keep reminding him of how it had felt to hold her close, feel the soft velvet of her flesh under his, cup the warm weight of her breasts in his caressing hands. Merely to think of it made his heart pound, drying his mouth in the heat of his memories.

‘If you're lucky this whole thing will just be a nine-day wonder.'

The fight he had to make his voice even and indifferent made it harsher than he had anticipated, and he watched her wince sharply as she heard it.

‘The minute some new story comes along, they'll drop you like a stone and move on to more interesting ground.'

He was going to leave her, Felicity realised miserably. He was going to abandon her and walk away without a backward look. Less than thirty-six hours ago, that had been exactly what she had wanted. She had prayed to have him out of her life and to be left alone.

Now the prospect of it tore her at heart and left it bleeding.

‘Oh, wonderful!' she managed, her voice husky with pain. ‘Brilliant! And what do I do in the meantime? Stay locked in here or throw myself to the wolves if I try to go out—
Rico
!'

She broke off on a cry of fear as down below someone started banging on the front door with a heavy fist, the sound reverberating loudly through the hall and up the stairwell.

He couldn't stop himself.

That cry called to everything that was right and moral in his make-up. It appealed to his innate sense of fairness, the primitive instinct of a male, the need to protect and defend his mate when danger threatened.

Before he even had time to think he had moved to her side, coming down onto the side of the chair to gather her close in his arms and hold her tight. She felt so delicate in his grasp, the fine bones almost too fragile to bear his grip.

‘Oh, why won't they go away?' Felicity moaned. ‘Why won't they leave me alone?'

Once, as a boy, he had rescued a terrified sparrow from the jaws of a predatory cat and carried it carefully to safety. It had trembled in his hands as Felicity did now and he had wondered just how such a frail creature could ever cope with the rigours of the world, the force that nature could throw at it.

It wouldn't survive, his mother had told him. He would have done better to leave it with the cat. Then at least its end would have been mercifully quick. But he wouldn't give in. Something about the small creature had roused every protective instinct he possessed and he had cared for it devotedly, keeping it in a box in his room, feeding it seeds and grubs, until at last it regained its strength. He had never forgotten the moment he had set it free, the way his heart had seemed to soar along with the bird as it spread its wings and flew away.

And something of the same feeling assailed him now. He knew that the only wise, the only
sane
decision to make was to walk away. To tell himself that Felicity had made her own choices, created her own bed. All he had to do
was to leave her to lie in it. He should walk through that door, shutting it firmly behind him, and never see her again.

But his conscience wouldn't let him do that.

No, if he was honest, he didn't
want
to do that.

Face facts, you fool! he berated himself inwardly. She's got her hooks into you and you don't want her to let go.

And when the bang at the door came again and Felicity, shivering, reached out and took his hand, folding her fingers round it as if to absorb his strength by doing so, he knew he was lost. His mouth had opened before he had time to think.

‘There is one other thing you can do…' he heard himself saying. ‘You can always come away with me. After all, it's only what everyone already expects you to do. Come to Argentina until all the fuss dies down.'

W
HAT
am I doing here?

It was the question that Felicity had asked herself a dozen or more times ever since the moment Rico's private jet had first landed at the International Airport in Ezeiza, outside Buenos Aires. From there they had transferred to a large helicopter for the flight inland to the huge
estancia
set on the lush green plains of the Pampas that had been the Valeron family home for almost a century.

By then she had already started to wonder just what she was doing, and her first sight of the ranch house at La Estrella had set the question pounding over and over in her head like a nagging refrain.

Why
am I here? What on earth possessed me to agree, to accept Rico's invitation?

Because she had never intended to say yes. In fact, even as Rico's words had died away she had already decided that ‘no' was the only possible answer. She had actually opened her mouth to say so when another loud bang at the door had broken into her train of thought, stilling the words on her lips.

‘They're not going to go away until they get their story,' Rico had said, reading her expression with intuitive astuteness. ‘If you stay here they'll only make your life hell, hounding you day and night. Far better to buy yourself a little breathing space by getting out of the country for a while.'

Buy yourself a little breathing space…
Common sense and every hope of self-preservation told her that she shouldn't even be considering the idea, but Felicity was
stunned to find that she was actually doing more than that. She was looking at the prospect of going with Rico not just in order to gain a little time of peace and quiet, but as a way of buying a little more time
with him
.

It was not much more than twenty-four hours since she had first set eyes on Rico and in that time she had swung from hating and fearing him to passionate, uncontrollable desire for him and back again. Only a very short time ago she had dreamed of getting away from him, of being free of his dangerous, devastating presence in her life and letting herself return to normal. She had wanted nothing more than to see him walk away from her, leaving her to pick up the pieces of her existence.

But now the prospect of a life without Rico in it seemed nothing more than an existence, empty and dull. She couldn't bear to say goodbye; knew that she would do anything, anything at all, if it would only mean that she could stay with him even a short time longer.

It was mad, impossibly crazy, hopelessly irrational, but rational thought didn't come into it. She was listening to her most basic, most primitive instincts and, following their urges, she couldn't even find the control to say yes. Instead she simply nodded, losing the power of speech in the shock of what she was agreeing to.

But that didn't mean she hadn't had second thoughts. The worst moment of doubt had come when the helicopter had started to circle, ready to set down.

Rico had touched her arm to draw her attention and pointed out of the window.

‘If you look out now, you will get your first sight of the
estancia
. Over there—see—that is La Estrella.'

‘That!'

Felicity's breath caught in her throat and she stared in stunned amazement at the low, spreading house set in the middle of huge lush lawns. It was built in a square around
a central courtyard, with white painted walls, a red-tiled roof, and Moorish-looking arched windows opening on to a wide veranda. To one side was the clear water and blue-painted tiles of a large swimming pool, and the enormous garden was planted with banana palms, exotic flowers and fine trees.

‘But it's wonderful! Spectacular!'

It was also absolutely terrifying.

She had known that Rico was wealthy. It had been impossible to miss the evidence of the way that his money eased their path at every stage of the journey, beginning with the chauffeur-driven limousine that had picked them up from her flat and taken them to the airport, a second driver being delegated to take charge of Rico's car. Then there had been the speed with which their transit to the executive jet had been arranged, the luxurious comfort of the plane itself. But none of that had truly brought home the reality of the situation to her like this enormous, regal ranch house standing in solitary splendour in such a huge expanse of plain.

‘Do you have any neighbours?' she managed to stammer, unable to take her eyes of the stunning scene.

‘Not for miles—that's why we use the helicopter so much.'

Rico sounded totally relaxed, indifferent to the sheer scale of his property, but then of course he had been born and brought up here. This was ‘home' to him. And he wasn't struggling to come to terms with just how isolated La Estrella was, the realisation of how totally alone she was going to be for the next week or so—alone, except for Rico.

And the passage of time had done nothing to reduce that feeling. Even the discovery that, contrary to what she had expected, Rico had arranged for her to have a separate room rather than having her installed in his master bedroom
hadn't eased the stinging sense of tension that stretched her nerves tight as a violin string.

‘
This
is mine?' she exclaimed, grey eyes wide with stunned bemusement as she took in what in fact amounted to a complete suite with a bedroom, bathroom and a sitting room where the wide glass-paned doors opened onto the central tiled courtyard. ‘But I thought…'

‘You thought that I would expect payment in kind for my hospitality?' Rico inserted when words failed her, a dark edge to his voice revealing that her comment had stung some part of his male pride, angering him deeply. ‘Credit me with a little more finesse than that,
querida
. When I offered you a place to hide from the furore the cancellation of your wedding has caused, I had no ulterior motive in mind.'

Ebony eyes swept over her in such a look of disdain that it seemed to take a protective layer of skin with it, leaving her raw and vulnerable to the savage reproof in his voice.

‘I—I'm sorry…' she stammered but Rico ignored her hesitant interjection, sweeping it aside with an arrogant wave of his hand.

‘You needed a safe haven, somewhere to ride out the storm, and that is what I could provide. I felt I owed it to you after the part I played in ruining the plans you had for your future.'

Which was a double-edged comment if ever there was one. Felicity didn't need to be reminded of the fact that Rico believed her ‘plans for the future' had involved marrying Edward simply in order to get her hands on the other man's money. In his eyes, she was nothing more than a cheap little gold-digger, one he had believed was prepared to sell herself to the highest bidder.

‘Thank you.'

The sharpness of her tone betrayed her ambiguous feelings, something that didn't escape Rico's notice as she saw
a spark of challenge light in the ebony eyes, making her suspect that he hadn't finished with her yet.

She was right.

‘That isn't to say that I would object if you decided that you wanted to share my bed,' he drawled lazily, the gleam in his eyes growing stronger with every word he spoke. ‘But that has to be your choice. You have to come of your own free will—say that you want it too.'

Which just about guaranteed that her mouth would be permanently sealed, Felicity reflected inwardly. Did he really believe that she would be able to come to him, in the clear light of day, and say quite cold-bloodedly that she wanted him? Her nerves quailed just to think of it, her stomach tying itself into tight, painful knots of tension.

‘Then you'll have a very long wait if you think that's what's going to happen!' she flung at him, anger flaring up inside her as she saw one black eyebrow lift in cynical scepticism at her vehemence.

‘What is it,
belleza
?' he taunted. ‘Are you afraid of yourself and your feelings? Afraid to admit that you are a woman, with a woman's desires and needs?'

The challenge was overt now, leaving her with no choice but to take it up. Even to ignore it would be interpreted as backing away, and she knew that like any fierce predator Rico would pounce on any sign of weakness. If she ran, he would hunt her down, even if only mentally, and she would end up in even graver danger than when she had started.

Defiantly her chin came up, grey eyes clashing sharply with his deep-set brown ones.

‘I'm afraid of nothing about my sexuality, Señor Valeron,' she told him coolly. ‘Nor am I ashamed of it. It's just that I prefer to choose where and how I—indulge it. I also prefer to choose my partner for myself.'

Did she know what it did to him when those stunning eyes met his head-on like that? Rico wondered. More than
likely she knew only too well, and that the provocation was deliberate. So much so that he was furious with himself for responding, for letting her get to him in the most basic, primitively erotic way possible.

He was furious with his body too. With the brutal speed with which it reacted simply to the way she looked. The blazing contrast between the sexually provocative words and the prim and proper way she spoke them made him want to reach out and haul her into his arms. He wanted to take her mouth and crush those soft lips beneath his own until he drove all thought of restraint completely from her mind.

But the suspicion that that might be exactly what she was aiming for held him back. The fight to subdue the hunger that threatened to swamp his mind, erasing all intelligence, eroded his control over his tongue, his temper slipping past his guard before he could hope to catch it back.

‘You weren't so damn picky where Venables was involved,' he snarled. ‘It's amazing what the promise of a wedding ring and a fortune can do to change a woman's mind—fast.'

That full, rose-coloured mouth opened on a shocked gasp of fury at the deliberate insult and her fingers itched to wipe the taunting expression from his handsome face.

‘Not that it's any business of yours, but Edward and I never slept together! He never even touched me.'

‘Now that I find hard to believe. For one thing, any man with a drop of red blood in his veins would be incapable of keeping his hands off you. And for another, you were definitely no virgin when you came to my bed.'

Burning colour swept up into Felicity's face then leached away again as swiftly as it had come. She was incapable of deciding whether her primary response was rage at his
rudeness or a shamefaced shiver of delight at the backhanded compliment he had just dealt her.

Rage won.

‘And because of that you've decided I'm some sort of tramp who'll sleep with anyone!'

‘That is not what I said!'

‘Near as damn it! You're a two-faced hypocrite, Rico Valeron! But, just for the record, the only man I've ever slept with was my fiancé.'

‘Another one?' Rico mocked. ‘Do you make a habit of collecting them and then losing them? Tell me, how many fiancés have you had in total?'

‘Only one!'

Anger swirled, hot and liberating, round and round in her head like a red mist, driving away all thought of reason or control or any sense of danger. She welcomed it gladly, grateful for the way it loosened her tongue, letting the words pour out like a flood when she needed them the most.

‘Only one real one, that is! Scott was my first love—my childhood sweetheart—literally the boy next door. We were both virgins, both making love for the very first time. We were going to get engaged on his nineteenth birthday but—but…'

Scalding tears were clogging her throat, choking her, but she swallowed them down, forcing herself on, wanting him to know the truth.

‘He always wanted a motorbike—saved half the money for it. His mum and dad gave him the other half for his birthday and he couldn't wait to go out on it. He said he just had time to fit in one ride before the party started.'

‘Felicity…' Rico tried to interject but she ignored him.

‘He never came back. He took a corner too fast, skidded—right under the wheels of a bus.'

‘Maldito sea!'

Rico's hands came out to hold her when she would have whirled away, unable to face him any longer.

‘Felicity, I am so sorry. That was crass and insensitive of me. If I had known I never would—I never should have said anything. I behaved like a louse…'

‘Yes you did!' Felicity managed between inelegant sniffs.

‘If it's any consolation, I have never felt quite so ashamed of myself in my life.'

He looked it too, the coffee-coloured eyes shadowed and dull, unexpected lines of strain etched around his nose and mouth.

‘I hope you will forgive me.'

It was an honest, genuine apology and, incapable of resisting the appeal in his eyes, she found herself nodding mutely, unable to deny him this.

‘Did you love him very much?' His voice was unexpectedly gentle, softer than she had ever heard it before.

‘At the time—yes. I thought he was the only one for me. When he died, I really believed I would never love anyone ever again. I…'

Unable to go on, she flung her hands up before her face, concealing her eyes and the expression in them from his searching gaze.

‘Felicity,' Rico said again, misinterpreting the reason for her reaction. ‘I'm truly sorry.'

‘It's all right,' Felicity muttered, her words muffled by her concealing hands. ‘Really it is—but I would like to be left alone.'

‘But—'

‘Rico, please!'

She risked opening her fingers, just a little bit, flashing a swift glance up at his concerned face and then away again, blinking furiously to fight back the tears. ‘Please. I just want to be on my own for a bit.'

She had never seen him look so discomposed and ill at ease and it wrenched sharply at her already overwrought emotions, making her bite her bottom lip in distress.