LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

as this. Please God, let him have a wife, Marina prayed. I would never think thoughts like this about a married man. I know I wouldn’t.

      ‘There is no Lady Winterborne,’ he informed her coolly, and something inside her fluttered uncontrollably. ‘But there are a dozen guest bedrooms just dying to be used. And plenty of staff to see to your every whim. What’s a few days?’ he added temptingly, his eyes searching hers. ‘Your fiancé surely won’t expect you to jump on a plane straight out of hospital?’

      ‘I…I guess not. But I wouldn’t like to put you to—’

      ‘I insist,’ he broke in brusquely. ‘I will not take no for an answer.’

      Marina swallowed. It was the wrong thing for him to say to her at that moment in time.

      An image filled her mind, of her lying on a magnificent four-poster bed in one of those undoubtedly huge and plushly elegant guest bedrooms…

      It was night, but there were candles casting an intimate glow through the room. Her red hair was spread out against a mountain of pillows, gleaming gold against pristine white. Her nightgown was virginal white as well, but made of satin and lace, and it hid little. She was reading when he came into the room, dressed in a rich purple robe. His penetrating blue eyes clashed with her own startled green ones. He walked arrogantly to the edge of the bed and shrugged out of the robe. He was naked. He climbed onto the bed and pulled the curtains so the world was shut out and darkness enveloped them. The book was taken from her suddenly trembling fingers. She felt a hand sliding around her neck, and her mouth being slowly lifted.

      ‘I will not take no for an answer,’ he whispered against her lips…

      Marina’s glazed eyes slowly cleared to find the main star of her shockingly life-like fantasy staring at her with unconcealed concern.

      ‘What is it? Are you not feeling well?’

      Marina felt decidedly shaky, for such was the power of her imaginings.

      ‘I…I was feeling a little faint there for a moment. But I’m all right now.’ She scooped in a deep breath and did her best to still her wildly hammering heart.

      ‘You had me worried. I thought I might have to carry you as well as the suitcase.’

      For a split second Marina contemplated organising a faint.

      ‘Do you think you can make it outside?’ he asked, worry on his handsome face. ‘It’s not far.’

      ‘Yes, of course,’ she said briskly, disgusted with herself for this ongoing and quite uncharacteristic weakness. She had to get a hold of herself and her head once and for all. This would just not do!

      ‘Lead on, My Lord,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ll follow.’

      He frowned. ‘I thought you were going to call me James.’

      ‘I know, but somehow it doesn’t feel right.’

      He looked slightly annoyed. ‘Surely I’m not that intimidating?’

      ‘Well, actually, yes, you are, Lord Winterborne.’

      In more ways than one.

      ‘But I would prefer you to call me James.’

      ‘Sorry, Your Lordship. No can do.’ This unfortunate attraction might be one-sided, but Marina still felt it only sensible to keep him at a distance. Calling him James was just too intimate for her peace of mind.

      His glare fell just short of scowl. ‘You really have a mind of your own, don’t you?’

      ‘Well, why not?’ she said in a challenging tone. ‘Don’t English women?’

      He laughed, but didn’t answer her, she noted. After one last shake of his head, he stalked on ahead with her suitcase, leaving her to follow as she’d said she would.

      CHAPTER THREE

      IT WAS raining outside—a light drizzle more like a mist than real rain. And it was freezing, by Marina’s standards. After all, it was supposedly summer over here, unlike the actually warmer winter she’d left behind in Sydney. Of course it was still very early in the morning. Just going on six. The plane had landed in the dark, not long after five.

      Still…

      Marina thought of the clothes she’d brought and wondered if they’d do.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ Lord Winterborne said when she glanced up at the sky. ‘We have good heating inside. August can be like this. Very unpredictable. It will probably be fine and warm tomorrow. Ahh, here’s William with the car.’

      A large and stately-looking dark green saloon pulled into the kerb with a properly uniformed chauffeur behind the wheel. He looked about fifty, with a full, florid face and a few too many pounds around his stomach.

      ‘Don’t get out, William,’ his employer called out, on opening the back door. ‘Just hand me the keys and I’ll put the luggage in the boot. This is Marina, by the way, all the way from Sydney, Australia.’

      ‘How do you do, miss?’ the chauffeur said, lifting his cap in greeting as she climbed in and settled in the most comfy brown leather seat.

      They exchanged a smile in the rear-vision mirror. ‘His Lordship was over the moon when he found out you were coming, miss. It’s ever so good of you to do what you’re doing.’

      ‘That’s nice of you to say so, but I’m only doing what anybody would do, under the circumstances.’

      ‘I wouldn’t say that. I wouldn’t say that at all.’

      ‘What wouldn’t you say, William?’ the man himself asked, on joining them and handing back the keys.

      ‘That not everyone would do what this pretty lady is doing for Rebecca. Or come this far to do it.’

      ‘You’re quite right. I wholeheartedly agree with you. Straight to the apartment, William.’

      ‘Very good, My Lord.’

      His Lordship stayed well over on his side of the roomy back seat, Marina noted, which was a relief. There was something about being confined in a car with him which was even more disturbing than ogling him from behind, or conjuring up erotic little scenarios in her head. Their enclosed closeness meant she could not only see him. She could smell him.

      No matter how often Shane showered he still smelt slightly of sweat and horses. This man smelt of something very expensive. An exotic, spicy scent which teased the nostrils and made you think of crisp clean air and pines covered in snow, of cool white sheets and freshly washed bodies and…

      Oh, my God, I’m doing it again!

      Marina wrenched her mind back from the abyss, turning her head away from the inspiration of her erotic thoughts and that damned cologne he was wearing. She stared out at the suburban London street and the rows of identical houses, and tried to pull herself together.

      ‘You mentioned your mother died of cancer…’

      Darn it, he was speaking to her. She would have to turn her head back and look at him.

      She did so. Slowly. Nonchalantly. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said, and their eyes met. He really did have riveting eyes, she thought. The blue was as intense as their expression.

      ‘Was it leukaemia?’ he asked.

      ‘No. She died from skin cancer. A couple of months back. Melanoma. It took her fairly quickly after it was diagnosed. Though it’s never quick enough, is it?’ she added, her heart contracting at the thought of her mother’s suffering.

      ‘And your father? How is he coping?’

      ‘My father died when I was just a baby. A horse he was breaking in threw him into a fence. Snapped his neck. That’s why I have no brothers or sisters.’

      ‘Your poor mother.’

Скачать книгу