The Carides Pregnancy - Kim Lawrence Mills & Boon Modern

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termination?’ he said bleakly.

      Becca’s voice grew husky with emotion as she corrected him. ‘A miscarriage.’

      The security guard drew a deep breath and, framing her face in his hands said urgently. ‘What is your name?’

      The peculiarity of his manner stood out as very strange in a day that had possibly been the strangest in her life.

      ‘Your name?’ he repeated.

      ‘Becca.’

      ‘Don’t move, Becca. I’ll be back.’

      He didn’t have the faintest idea if she had registered what he’d said. It was hard to tell from the glazed expression in her eyes if she was taking in anything much at all. He didn’t like to leave her, but the strength of his feelings meant he had to act on them.

      His timing was perfect. The main participants, along with the photographer, were emerging from the vestry, their symbolic signatures having been duly witnessed. They all stopped when they saw him.

      Without responding to the varied greetings directed at him, Christos grabbed his cousin by the shoulders and pulled him away from his bride.

      ‘What’s wrong?’

      Christos smiled, and his cousin looked alarmed. ‘This is for Becca!’ he said, and landed a sharp but controlled jab on the younger man’s nose.

      The groom yelled and clutched at his nose, blood oozing between his fingers. ‘Who the hell is Becca?’ he screamed indignantly. So Christos punched him again, and Alex went down.

      She had moved. Cursing softly under his breath, Christos ran down a side path and saw her almost immediately.

      ‘I told you to stay put.’

      Becca looked at the long brown fingers curled around her upper arm. Until he touched her she had been feeling a lot better. Now her sensitive stomach was quivering violently. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she said.

      Considering the advice she had dished out on the subject to her sister, she couldn’t go down the road of reacting to arbitrary and dangerous sexual attraction without being a total hypocrite!

      ‘More to the point, what are you doing?’ he queried suspiciously.

      ‘Is that any of your business?’ she countered frostily. ‘And, thank you, but I can find my own way.’ Her eyes slid to the hand on her arm, but he didn’t react. ‘I don’t need an escort.’

      ‘The head of security might have other ideas,’ he retorted drily.

      ‘That’s not you?’ Her frowning regard travelled the length of his tall lean person. No reason, of course, that he had to be the boss. He wasn’t wearing a badge or anything. But he didn’t act like a man who was used to obeying orders.

      On the other hand it was easy to picture him issuing them, and having people fall over themselves to obey. An accusing frown settled on her upturned face.

      ‘You act as if you are.’ No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t she see him slotting into any hierarchy of command. This man didn’t look like a team player to her.

      ‘I’m new to the game,’ he admitted glibly.

      ‘Which probably explains why you’re taking your duties too zealously,’ she muttered. ‘I’ve not committed a crime or anything. You’ve got no right to restrain me against my will. In fact,’ she added, ‘That—’ her nod indicated the hand on her arm ‘—is probably assault. Actually, I don’t think there’s any probably about it.’

      He smiled, and Becca lowered her eyes as she experienced a spasm of sexual awareness that made her knees quiver. What is it with me? You’d think I’d never seen an attractive man before!

      ‘Perhaps we should let the police decide?’

      The silky suggestion brought her horrified gaze back to his face. ‘You’re joking?’

      He shrugged and looked infuriatingly enigmatic.

      Becca couldn’t stop the quiver of doubt entering her voice as she added, ‘I’ve told you, I’ve not committed a crime or anything.’

      ‘You don’t think so?’

      He made no attempt to prevent her as she pulled her arm free of his grasp and folded it across her heaving chest, glaring up at him defiantly.

      ‘I don’t think. I know.’

      Despite her confident assertion Becca couldn’t prevent a shade of worry entering her voice as she reviewed her gate-crashing.

      ‘Unless this is a question of one law for the rich and another for the rest of us.’

      His dark eyes narrowed on her scornful face. ‘You have a problem with people being wealthy?’

      She lifted a hand to her aching head. ‘No, I have a problem with spoilt parasites like the Carides.’

      Aware of an expression in her captor’s dark eyes that made her uneasy, she bit her lip to cut short this flow of bitter confidences.

      ‘It’s a little late to be discreet.’

      ‘I really don’t want to debate this with you. I just want—’ She broke off and winced as the bells overhead broke into a triumphal peal. Face pale and composed, she lifted her eyes to his face. ‘I just want to go home.’

      ‘An excellent plan,’ he said, falling into step beside her.

      Becca tilted her face and studied the hard angles and intriguing hollows of his dark, lean and exasperatingly sexy features. ‘What,’ she demanded, expelling a gusty sigh, ‘do you think you’re doing now?’

      ‘Making sure you go home.

      ‘Are you going to escort me all the way to Yorkshire?’

      ‘I’m going to stick to you until I’m sure you can’t double back and wreak the destructive vengeance your soul craves.’ His eyes locked with hers. ‘I take it that is what this is about?’

      ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me revenge wouldn’t make me feel better?’

      ‘No, I wouldn’t say that,’ Christos responded, thinking of the groom with his bloody nose.

      There were times in life when a man had to stop being cerebral and get physical—though he imagined there were a few people inside who might disagree with him at that moment. It would be a long time before he was forgiven for ruining the wedding. But it would be interesting to hear how they explained away the groom’s face…

      Becca pursed her lips and looked at him with mute dislike. She saw he was smiling. ‘You have my word that I won’t crash the reception or spoil the wedding photos.’

      ‘Your word…’ he mused, dragging a brown hand through his dark collar-length hair. ‘You do see my problem there?’

      Becca planted her hands on her slim hips and inhaled wrathfully. ‘Are you calling me a liar?’

      ‘Not as such. But,’ he qualified, ‘I do think you’re not thinking straight right now.’

      ‘Don’t patronise me.’ She gritted her teeth as she reflected on his comment. ‘Not a liar, but mentally unbalanced. Gosh,’ she observed bitterly, ‘I feel better already.’

      He met her angry eyes and released a low, husky laugh. Becca regarded him with growing frustration, but could see that it might be hard to remain angry with a man who possessed a laugh that warm and attractive. Fortunately she wasn’t going to be within laughing distance long enough for it to become a real problem!

      ‘Go ahead—enjoy the joke.’ She gave a bleak wintry smile. ‘I can see your point. What’s a ruined life…? So long,’ she added on a bitter quaver, ‘as it isn’t your life!’

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