The Abby Green Modern Collection - Эбби Грин Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

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voice.

      He came out into the hall a short while later, arranging the cuffs of his tuxedo. Maggie stood with her back to him, looking out the window.

      She’d arranged her hair so it fell in a coiled rope down her back. The dark grey dress was some kind of jersey material and clung to every curve. It was tantalisingly see-through, giving heady glimpses of a pale curve here, a dark hollow there. She sensed him, tensed and turned around. It dipped in a dark V at the front, between her cleavage. Yet…it lacked…something. Why wouldn’t she wear the jewels he gave her?

      Despite that first impression she’d given him when she’d cockily asked if she could keep them…he had to make her wear them. She never chose to wear them—it was just another facet to her act, no doubt. But, a little voice crowed, yet another anomaly…Usually women were begging him for more and more. Bigger, glitzier, gaudier. He ignored the voice.

      He strolled forward with indolent grace, making Maggie’s breath catch in her throat. She’d seen him in a tux many times by now but somehow, tonight, he was more devastating than ever. Was it because she knew his body intimately? Was it because of the way his gaze drifted up and down her body, stopping, lingering…

      He presented her with a long velvet box. Her heart fell. She took it hesitantly, opening it with a stunned gasp she couldn’t keep in. It revealed an antique earring and necklace set made entirely out of green diamonds, set in platinum. The faintly yellow-green hue caught the light and dazzled her. She felt herself closing inwards.

      She looked up, distant. ‘More trinkets for your mistress?’

      She was used to this. That was it. She was bored by it. Bizarrely, as much as it pained him, it also comforted him.

      He took the necklace out of the box and proceeded to place it around her neck, deftly fastening it. The jewel hung just above the valley of her breasts. He took out the earrings and handed them to her.

      ‘Yes…’

      With shaking fingers she took them and put them in her ears. She could feel them sway and move against her neck and hair. He stood back. Cold eyes flicked up and down. She felt a chill.

      ‘Beautiful.’

      She felt like a brood mare. She was there purely for his pleasure and if he wanted her dripping in jewels then she would just have to put up with the discomfort. But everytime she’d move and feel them sway against her skin, she’d be reminded that, all too soon, he’d be walking away, out of her life and moving on to the next in line, with whom he’d be saying exactly the same words. Placing jewels around their necks in the same dispassionate way…or maybe not so dispassionate. Maybe one of them would break through that austere exterior…find the beating heart of the man, unlock his mysteries. Claim him. Her heart felt like a stone.

      ‘Let’s go.’

      She followed him out, mute and stung. His revenge was already total. Complete. And he didn’t even know it.

      This function was similar to every other, in that everyone was beating a steady path to bask in the commanding, phenomenally successful aura of Caleb Cameron. As if by merely being near him some kind of Midas touch would rub off. Maggie was enduring the same unfriendly glances from the Dublin socialites, who wondered how she’d suddenly appeared on their scene. And with the temerity to turn up on his arm, not even giving them a fair chance.

      She’d hardly ever socialised with Tom or her mother in Dublin. But yet, it was a relatively small city and already she’d caught glimpses of some of Tom’s old colleagues, making a shudder of revulsion run through her. One of them in particular, who had been as nasty, if not even worse than her stepfather. She prayed that he hadn’t seen her, but it was hard, with everyone’s focus on Caleb and him clamping her to his side. She endured the dinner, the small talk, people’s curiosity when they found out she came from Dublin herself, yet they were too polite to ask how she’d managed to inveigle her way into Caleb’s life.

      She could feel him loop a casual arm around the back of her chair, close to his, his hand caressing, toying with her neck. Her breath became ragged. She could feel her body respond and crossed her arms to cover the evidence. He turned to look at her; the sheer weight of his gaze made her turn. Everyone around them, the muted music, chatter of cutlery, raucous laughter, faded. A dense, heavy electric energy hummed between them. He caught her hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing the delicate underside of her wrist. Maggie’s breath stopped. Her eyes flared.

      Why had he done that?

      He let her hand go and turned back to the person on the other side of him. She was confused and muddled and very much afraid of the seething emotions he was responsible for in her breast.

      ‘And where did you say you were from, dear?’

      Maggie turned gratefully into conversation with the old woman on her right.

      After dinner the guests were free to mingle and dance in the stunning ballroom. Maggie murmured her excuses and went to look for the bathroom. On her way back, just feet from the door, a voice halted her in her tracks. A definite, hard slap of unease hit her between the shoulder blades.

      ‘Well, well, little Maggie Holland. I thought it was you, but my, haven’t you turned into a sexy lady?’

      Against her will, she turned slowly to face the man behind the unctuous voice.

      ‘Patrick Deveney.’

      The small, squat man had bulging eyes that were looking her up and down with such crawling impunity that it held Maggie immobile. He’d been one of her stepfather’s closest friends. And for years he’d slimed around Maggie, but she’d always escaped his advances—just.

      He moved closer when someone passed by. She was desperate not to show how scared she was or draw attention. She craned her neck to look for Caleb. She couldn’t see him anywhere.

      ‘Looking for your…date?’

      ‘Yes…it’s nice to see you again, Mr Deveney, but I really must be—’

      Suddenly her arm was grabbed in an intensely brutal grip. She gasped as he pulled her into a nearby corner.

      ‘What do you think you’re—?’

      He looked her up and down again with obvious lascivious intent. ‘I haven’t had a chance to offer my condolences, Maggie, dear. You must be so devastated at the loss of Tom…We didn’t even get a chance to mourn him ourselves. Your mother had him back here and buried so quickly we couldn’t even pay our respects. That’s hardly fair, is it? But now I can offer them to you personally.’

      Maggie stared in disgust, unable to move from the explicit threat in Deveney’s voice. His hand on her arm was stopping the blood flow; the pain was intense. ‘Let me go,’ she bit out through the pain, knowing she’d have an almighty bruise.

      ‘You know, Tom would have come after you if Cameron hadn’t been so quick to take revenge; he knew you blabbed everything. You and that stupid wife of his. You caused his heart attack; you messed it up for all of us.’

      She was transported back in time, her skin going clammy in remembered fear. She stood stock still, knowing that if she made a move she’d enrage him further and there would be more pain. Past and present were tangled; the pain wouldn’t be meant for her, never her, it was always her mother. She only ever suffered if she got in the way. Yet why was she in pain now? The mist cleared and Maggie came to.

      This was not Tom. He was gone. She could handle this bully. He wasn’t going to hurt her. With a swift move she caught him off guard, extricated herself from his grip and delivered an elbow blow to his fleshy solar plexus. He was gasping and red-faced, but still far too close.

      ‘I was just wondering where you’d got to.’

      Caleb. A wild rush of relief rushed through her, but when she turned, her heart fell. He was glowering, taking in her flushed face, close proximity to Deveney and the other man’s obvious breathlessness. And jumped to entirely the wrong

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