The Hostage Bride (3 page)

And the effect on her mother was one she couldn't even bear to think about.

The appearance of another roadside sign announcing the approach of the motorway services reminded her of her plan of a few moments earlier. It was now or never.

‘I'm thirsty!' she announced and the way that her voice cracked on the words gave a conviction to her words. ‘It's so hot—I really could do with a drink.'

‘If you look in front of you, there's a cupboard—it's a small bar, actually. There are some plastic bottles of mineral water in there.'

‘Oh, but—'

This wasn't at all what she'd had in mind. What she'd wanted was…

‘You didn't really think I was going to pull in to the services and let you out, did you?' Infuriatingly, Rico seemed to have been able to read her mind. ‘It's the water or nothing, sweetheart.'

‘I'm not your sweetheart!' Felicity growled ungraciously, furious at having been caught out so easily. ‘And I have no intention of drinking anything you've provided.'

‘Then you'll have to stay thirsty,' Rico returned with cool callousness. ‘I told you I had no intention of harming you.'

‘And I'm supposed to believe that?'

Perversely, her pretence of being thirsty had now become a fact. The sun was beating down on the car and she was uncomfortably aware of the way that for most of the morning her tightly knotted nerves had prevented her from eating or drinking anything but the barest minimum. Just the thought of the cooled water was a temptation she found hard to resist.

‘You could have laced it with anything!'

His sigh was a masterpiece of resigned patience, threaded through with exasperation.

‘I give you my word—'

‘The word of a kidnapper? A brute—a thug?'

In the mirror she saw him roll his eyes, just for a second.

‘How about if I drank some of it myself?'

It was tempting. She really was very thirsty.

He must have seen the doubt in her face, how close she was to weakening, because suddenly he flicked the indicator and moved onto the hard shoulder, slowing the car briefly.

‘Give me the water.'

She could use the bottle as a weapon, Felicity told herself as she opened the bar. She could hit this Rico on the head with it—or shake it hard until the sparkling water was fizzing so wildly that it would explode in his face as soon as he opened it.

But even as the thoughts crossed her mind, she reconsidered them hastily. If she disabled Rico, however briefly, he was still that side of the glass partition and she on the other. The control for the central locking was on his side, and she very much doubted that, even if she opened it to its fullest, she could squeeze through the gap into the front of the car.

And she didn't dare risk the possible repercussions if she angered him without incapacitating him. He might have given his word not to harm her, but that didn't mean she was prepared to risk pushing him too far.

‘The water, Felicity.'

Rico had swivelled round in his seat so that he was facing her and a dark strand of warning threaded through his tone.

‘Did I say you could use my Christian name?' Felicity demanded, knowing she was only being petty, using the complaint as something to hide behind, to disguise the frus
tration she felt at not being able to get at him in any other way.

‘
Señorita
Hamilton,' Rico amended with an elaborate courtesy that only aggravated her already bad mood.

‘Oh, here, take your damn water!'

She thrust the bottle at him ungraciously, trying to avoid the mockery in his dark eyes as she did so.

But not looking into his eyes meant she had to look somewhere and she was horrified by the way that, in spite of her struggle against it, her downbent gaze would keep sliding to the long, tanned line of his throat above the immaculate white collar of his shirt. The movement of his muscles as he tipped back his head, swallowing deeply, held her transfixed and she couldn't force herself to look away no matter how she tried.

A heat that had nothing to do with the sun outside dried her mouth and throat until they felt like parched sand, her whole body in the grip of a fire that would take so much more than some sips of water to extinguish.

Stop it! she told herself furiously, forcing her eyes shut and screwing them tight. She had to stop thinking this way.

‘Here.'

Rico held the bottle out to her again and she almost snatched it from him. But the realisation of the way that he was observing her, made her pause again and wipe the top of the bottle with over-elaborate care that brought a scowl to his dark face.

Without thinking she gulped down all that was left in the bottle, grateful for the way that it eased the painful dryness that was tormenting her. And as she drank Rico put the car back into gear and rejoined the motorway smoothly, glancing back at her briefly as she sighed her relief.

‘Better?'

‘Much better, thank you.'

It was amazing how much difference just a drink could make. She felt completely refreshed, much more relaxed. The few moments' pause had given her time to collect herself, gather her thoughts. In fact if she could just work out where they were heading, maybe she could outsmart this man yet.

Buoyed up by the feeling of exhilaration, she lounged back in her seat, concentrating on looking relaxed in the hope of distracting him, making him think she had switched off. Certainly, the terrible feeling of gripping panic seemed to have ebbed just a bit.

‘You're not very good at this, are you?' she asked airily. ‘I guess you've never done it before.'

‘And you, I take it, are an expert,' Rico returned dryly, indicating again and moving out into the overtaking lane.

‘Oh, you don't have to be an expert to know you've made a couple of basic mistakes. For one…'

She held up her left hand, checking the points off on her fingers as she made them.

‘You've let me find out too much—your name, for example. If in fact that is your real name.'

‘Perhaps I wanted you to know exactly who I am.'

That was something that hadn't even crossed Felicity's mind but now that it had, she was forced to consider it, to wonder just why he might want her to know who he was. It didn't seem at all logical.

‘And you've let me see your face,' she ticked off another point, trying not to let him see how much he had confused her.

‘What did you expect? That I would wear a mask and sweep you off your feet and carry you away over my shoulder? I would think that your so efficient British police might just have noticed if that had happened.'

That, Felicity had to concede, was distinctly possible. What she was having trouble with was the disturbing im
ages flooding into her mind at the thought of being swept off her feet and into Rico's arms. A swift, shivering glance at the strong, tanned fingers steering the powerful car with skilful ease made her shudder in uncontrollable response. Her body seemed to be growing soft and unexpectedly pliant, lolling against the soft leather almost as if she was melting in the wanton heat of her thoughts.

‘So what else have you decided I've done wrong?' Rico asked. ‘What other mistakes have I made?'

Apart from the most obvious one of finding the woman he had kidnapped—a woman who was promised to someone else—shockingly attractive? he asked himself. If he had known that
she
was the Felicity Hamilton he had to hold hostage, wouldn't he have had severe second thoughts about this whole thing?

‘When I think of more, I'll let you know.'

She had no intention of telling him the latest, major mistake he had made. That of letting her sit up, wide awake and clear-eyed, in the back of the car, watching every road sign that appeared, noting every indication of the route they were taking. They must stop sometime and then, some way, no matter how, she would find a way of getting in touch with her family and letting them know just where she was.

On their right a car sped past, a young woman in the back seat glancing into the Rolls as they did so, and something about the obvious double-take she made, the expression on her face, made Felicity giggle uncontrollably.

‘What is it now?'

‘I've just realised what people are seeing…'

The idea seemed crazily amusing, verging on the hilarious and she hastily put up her hands to hold back another fit of the giggles.

‘I mean—what must it look like?'

She shook her head in bemusement, still grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

‘There's you—driving off down the motorway—not a church or a chapel anywhere in sight—and me—
me
—here in the back, all done up in my bridal finery…'

Something about his stillness, the swift glance of those dark eyes up to the mirror to study her closely, made her heart clench on a sudden wave of panic.

What was wrong with her? This man had kidnapped her—abducted her! There was nothing to laugh at, nothing even remotely amusing, about her situation. She should be scared. She
was
nervous—and yet…

Another attack of the giggles threatened.

‘Thass another mishtake you've made. Which is one, two…

Her eyes seemed to have blurred and the finger she tried to count with kept missing the other hand completely.

‘I mean…fancy kidnapping a
bride
!'

The laughter stopped suddenly, changing to a wide, jaw-cracking yawn. Her eyelids felt heavy and, try as she might, she really couldn't focus at all. The world was sliding out of balance in the most peculiar way.

‘Lie down, Felicity!' It was a sharp command from the man in the front of the car. ‘Lie down at once—believe me, you'll feel much better like that.'

‘Lie…'

Her eyes slid closed; her head drooped like a wilting flower, then abruptly jerked up again. Wide, dazed eyes, their pupils heavy and vastly dark, were turned on him in bitter reproach.

‘What have you done to me?'

‘Go with it,
gatita
. Don't try to fight it. It will be easier for you that way.'

Don't fight it!

Her heart was fluttering frantically like a small, trapped bird beating its wings against a cage. She tried to force her
eyes open, managed it just a little but her lids were too heavy.

‘Sleep, little one.'

The low, husky voice was all that she could concentrate on. Blending in with the purr of the car's engine, it wove a soft smoky spell around her senses.

‘Duerme…'

But she
couldn't
sleep. She had to stay awake. She had to…

The effort was too much. With a faint sigh she stopped struggling, slumped back against the seat and slept.

Watching her, Rico clenched his big hands tight over the steering wheel until the knuckles showed white and cursed savagely in his native language.

If there had been any other way… But he had been forced into this—she had forced him into this. She and that fiancé of hers, Edward Venables.

The dark eyes blazed with fury, every muscle clenched taut and he slammed his fist hard against the wheel. Damn Edward Venables! Damn him to hell. Rico already owed that louse for the way he'd treated Maria—and now he owed him for this too. Big time.

‘M
ISS
Hamilton…Felicity…'

She'd heard that voice before, in her dreams, Felicity thought as she stirred reluctantly. It was the sort of voice that belonged in a dream, low and soft and sexily accented, with a way of turning her name from a simple four-syllable word into a string of poetry just by saying it.

In her dream it had belonged to a fantasy man, too. The sort of man she had never encountered in real life and never would now. Because now she had to wake up. Now she had to face reality, and reality was that today she was obliged to marry Edward Venables. It was either that or see her father go to prison for a long time.

But perhaps she could manage a few moments more in the dream world, she thought, trying to snuggle back down in the bed.

‘Felicity…
gatita
…wake up.'

She looked like the kitten he had called her, lying there, curled up, soft and sleepy, her head pillowed on her hands, Rico thought unwillingly. She looked delicate and vulnerable in a way that stabbed a knife into his conscience and twisted it hard.

And he couldn't afford a conscience. Not where she was concerned. Maria's future, and that of her unborn child, depended on him being strong and dealing with this as he had promised.

‘You can do this for me, can't you, Rico?'

His half-sister's voice sounded in the back of his head so clearly that he could almost see her tearstained face be
fore his eyes, feel her hands clutching at his as she pleaded with him.

‘You can see Eddie, tell him he can't go through with this wedding. That he can't marry this woman, this Felicity Hamilton…'

She had made it sound so easy, so straightforward. Because to Maria it was straightforward. She wanted this and what she wanted she usually got. But, this time, what Maria wanted had proved unexpectedly difficult to obtain.

Which was why he was here, now, with a half-conscious woman on his hands and a situation that was rapidly running right out of control.

‘Felicity…'

In the back of the car, Felicity Hamilton stirred slightly, frowning faintly, and muttered something in her sleep. The white, soft veil had fallen forward over her face and instinctively he reached forward to move it aside. Then immediately wished he hadn't.

He doubted if he would ever forget the sense of shock that had hit him straight in the chest when she had appeared outside the house just a few short hours earlier. Whatever else he had been expecting of the Felicity Hamilton described to him by both Maria and the private investigator he had put on the case, it had certainly not been this.

Not this slender, delicate creature whose gentle beauty had knocked him so far off balance that his thought processes had become scrambled. In the end he had only been able to function by forcing himself to concentrate on the plan he had worked out and nothing else.

The picture Maria had painted had been of someone far tougher; someone who knew exactly what she wanted in life and went for it, ignoring anyone who got in the way. Like father, like daughter, she had said. And the detective had been equally damning.

‘She goes straight from work to that nightclub, every night, Mr Valeron. Never home before near dawn.'

But this woman didn't look anything like the picture he had built up in his mind. Of course, that picture might still be the truth internally; it was just the external appearance that was different. But if that was the case then she had no damn right to be so deceptively lovely—it complicated matters far too much.

‘
Señorita
…Felicity…'

The voice was back in her dreams, but as she stirred again Felicity found that her bed was nothing like as comfortable as usual. It felt hard and narrow and she was curled up uncomfortably. She was tangled up in something too, something that rustled and confined her, like yards of netting and…

Shock jolted her awake, making her heart slam hard against her ribcage.

This wasn't a dream. She had fallen asleep and forgotten where she was, but now the reality came rushing back.

‘You!'

Her eyes flew open, wide and dark, the last remnants of the clinging sleep that had enveloped her clearing rapidly as she stared uncertainly up into his face.

‘What did you do to me?'

Crazily, foolishly she actually felt betrayed. He had promised not to harm her and even as the words had left his lying mouth he had been breaking that promise. But what should she have expected from a man who was prepared to commit the crime of kidnapping in order to get his revenge on someone?

‘You drugged me!'

‘The mildest of sedatives only.'

The handsome face revealed no sign of guilt or repentance and the dark chocolate eyes regarded her with cool indifference.

But what had she expected? Pity or concern? She would be all sorts of a blind, deluded fool even to hope for such a thing from this cold-hearted brute.

‘I thought it might help you relax. I had never anticipated that it would have the effect on you that it did.'

No, Felicity thought ruefully. There was no way he could have known that weeks of stress had meant that she hadn't had a decent night's sleep for an age. Even the weakest sedative would have knocked her for six, she was so tired.

‘I didn't expect to end up with Sleeping Beauty on my hands.'

He was actually smiling—almost making a joke out of this! If she hadn't known better, she might actually have thought that he was flirting with her. But she had learned her lesson fast. She would never trust the cold-hearted monster ever again. Even if those deep brown eyes did warm with an unexpectedly soft light, and the beautifully carved mouth looked so kissable when it curved into…

What
was
she thinking of? Hastily closing off the dangerous route her wayward thoughts had opened up, she switched on a ferocious glare instead.

‘I'm sure you had every move planned with a military precision. But you won't get away with it, you know!'

‘No?'

One jet-black eyebrow quirked upwards, cynically questioning her furious assertion.

‘You think not?'

‘I
know
not!'

Felicity struggled up into a half-sitting position, feeling dangerously vulnerable lying down with him looming over her, his face in part shadow where he had blotted out the sun.

‘For one thing, there are laws against such behaviour. And, for another, by now my father will surely have in
formed the police. You didn't exactly hide the number of your car and…'

Something about his face, some tiny flicker of response in the depths of those stunning eyes alerted her.

‘What is it?' she demanded. ‘What have you done?'

But even as the urgent question left her lips the haze of fear and confusion that had clouded her thoughts in the moments of wakening was slowly receding. Her eyes were starting to focus properly, her mind to take in more detailed impressions of her surroundings.

She was still in a car, it was true, still on the back seat of some large, luxurious vehicle. But, now that she looked more closely, she became aware of some very distinct differences between this car and the Rolls Royce in which she had originally fallen asleep.

Where the soft leather of the seat had once been a light fawn, now it was uncompromisingly black. There was no dividing glass panel between her and the seat where the driver—where Rico would have sat. And as she levered herself fully upright at last she saw not the silvery grey metalwork of the original Rolls but the sleek black lines of a very different car altogether.

‘This isn't your car!'

‘Correction,' Rico returned imperturbably. ‘This is very definitely my car—my personal property. The Rolls was not. It was the one that Venables hired for you, but it was easy enough to acquire it for my own use. Your original driver was only too pleased to be given the day off, especially when he earned a fat bonus at the same time.'

I just bet he was, Felicity thought, struggling against a swamping wave of misery. The memory of her own foolishness in telling him that his kidnapping hadn't been the most efficient possible came back to haunt her in horrifying detail. How could she have been so reckless—so crazily stupid? She had even
laughed
at him, for heaven's sake!

‘You…'

The black tide of horror made her voice shake and she shrank back against the far door of the car, getting as far away from him as was possible.

‘How—how did you get me from the Rolls into this…?'

The faint smile grew, curving into a wicked, malign grin.

‘Isn't that obvious,
gatita
? I carried you.'

Her throat closed up at the thought, her stomach heaving nauseously. The image that her mind threw up of herself in his arms, her body limp and totally at his mercy, her eyes closed, all defences down, made her shudder in appalled distress.

‘How dare you?'

To her relief anger came to her aid, the hot, thick force of it driving her fear before it.

‘How dare you even
touch
me!' Her voice rose high and tight and her grey eyes flashed fire in defiance. ‘You had no right! No right at all! If you ever do that again, I'll kill you!'

To her fury, her reaction only seemed to amuse him, his smile incensing her further.

‘So the kitten has claws,' he murmured with silky mockery. ‘I can see I shall have to be prepared to defend myself.'

If her rage had been merely an annoying fly, easily flicked away and dismissed, he couldn't have made his contempt more obvious. The disdain with which he shrugged off her impotent threat had her clenching her hands tight against her thighs, struggling with the impulse to use them on that arrogantly handsome face.

‘Oh, go to hell!' she spat furiously. ‘Just leave me alone!'

‘Willingly,' he responded smoothly. ‘But I can't help thinking that you would be much more comfortable inside. You can't stay in this car all night. For one thing, I think the weather is about to change.'

A quick glance at the sky confirmed the truth of his words. The brilliant sun of earlier in the day had been eclipsed by gathering clouds, which were growing thicker and darker by the minute. But it was worse than that. Some of the intensity
of the sun had also faded, leaving her in no doubt that the evening was drawing in. Just how long had she been unconscious while they were on the road? How far could they possibly have travelled in that time—and to where?

‘And I'm sure you must be getting hungry. If you just come into the house—'

‘No.'

Felicity shook her head firmly, her chin setting stubbornly.

‘I'm not going anywhere with you. You can't make me.'

His sigh was a blend of exasperation and resignation.

‘Felicity,
querida
, you cannot stay out here.'

‘I can do whatever I want! And it's Miss Hamilton to you!'

Damn him, he was laughing at her again, the soft sound of his amusement adding fuel to the fire of indignation blazing inside her.

‘Don't be foolish,
gatita
. You must be stiff and uncomfortable, and in need of something to eat and drink. Come with me…'

The appalling thing was that she was tempted. That the strong, tanned hand he held out to her actually looked as if it was proffered in a gesture of friendship, of assistance. But she'd been caught that way once before and she didn't intend to let it happen all over again.

‘
Señorita.'
The edge to his voice revealed how much she was testing his patience. ‘You are not making this easy on either of us. If you would just come inside then we could handle this situation in a much more civilised manner.'

‘I don't want to make anything
easy
for you! And, quite frankly, “civilised” in the last word I could ever use to describe you! Nothing on earth could ever induce me to set foot inside that house—'

‘Not even if I promise to let you phone your family?' Rico inserted smoothly, interrupting the flow of her tirade.

‘Phone?'

Abruptly all the fight left her with the speed of the air
being expelled from a punctured balloon, leaving her limp and weak.

‘You'd let me do that?'

The arrogant dark head moved in a swift nod of acquiescence.

‘But only if you come inside.'

His tone was huskily seductive, pure enticement in a silky murmur. It was the voice that the serpent must have used to tempt Eve in the Garden of Eden and Felicity found herself weakening dangerously.

The longing to speak to her parents, to hear a friendly voice in the middle of this nightmare was overwhelming. She had never felt so alone, so lost and anxious—not even on the day that she had discovered precisely how much of a mess her father had made of his life, the dangers he had created for his family.

‘The first thing you can do as soon as you are inside is ring your parents, reassure them that you are well. I'm sure they would be glad to hear from you.'

They would be going out of their minds with worry. Hot tears rushed into Felicity's eyes at just the thought.

‘You wouldn't deceive me about this?'

The sheen of moisture in those dove-grey eyes was Rico's undoing. If there was one thing he had never been able to cope with, it was a woman in tears. Maria had wept all over him when she had found out about Edward Venables' forthcoming marriage and that was why he was here, now, seeing this woman's tears threaten and knowing that he was the cause of it.

‘Trust me on this,' he said huskily.

Once more that big, strong hand was held out to her, and this time, after a moment's hesitation, she tentatively put her own into it. The way that her fingers disappeared when he folded his around them was almost shocking; the paler skin swallowed up by the tanned power of his grasp.

‘Come,
belleza
,' he encouraged. ‘Come with me.'