The Sins of Sebastian Rey-Defoe

It was a lose-lose situation.

‘Why didn’t you just make this offer to him? Why did you have to bring me into it at all?’

‘I wanted to see if you are as stubborn and proud as I thought you were—you are.’

‘So this is some sort of twisted test? Presumably I failed so now you punish both of—’

His voice was gravelled with irritation as he cut across her. ‘I have no desire for revenge on your brother, and unlike you I don’t think collateral damage is legitimate.’ He allowed her guilty flush to develop before finishing softly, ‘If I want to punish you I will.’

Looking into the mirrored surface of his dark eyes, Mari had no problem believing him.

‘So you’re saying that you do want revenge on me.’ She held a tight grip on her bravado and fought off the effects of the apprehensive shiver that slid its clammy way down her spine. It would take a very dim person not to realise being the target of this man’s revenge would not be comfortable.

‘If I did I’d be stupid to warn you, wouldn’t I?’

Or very clever. All manner of convoluted double bluffs ran through her mind until she felt not just apprehensive but dizzy!

The rain had begun to fall in earnest. In moments the face turned up to him was wet, a perfect classic oval. The moisture glistening on her pale skin highlighted the freckles across the bridge of her small straight nose and the bluish smudges under her beautiful accusing eyes. She looked delicate, sexy and vulnerable.

The sharp, strong stab of something that came perilously close to tenderness was mitigated by an equally strong slug of more familiar lust that pierced him as his gaze fastened on her shirt, where the buttons were straining against her heaving breasts. The rain that was falling heavier now had drenched the fabric, and he could see the scalloped edge of her bra against her breasts.

She really did have an incredible body, he thought, aiming for objectivity as his appreciative gaze slid over her feminine silhouette. Not hourglass—although her waist was tiny, the flare of her hips was less extravagant and her firm high bottom was taut rather than full, making her long-legged frame athletic rather than overtly lush.

And very, very sexy.

His analysis fell way short of objective. He found her body as provocative as her confrontational attitude. The combination was... He struggled to find the right word. Stimulating was a reasonable approximation and one that a man who liked boundaries, who needed control, could live with.

It was ridiculous that he was allowing himself to be distracted by sex like some hormone-laden teenager, when there were much more important issues at stake. For a time over the weekend it had seemed as if the royal deal was dead in the water; it still might be if this went the wrong way.

‘We need to move on.’

‘Where?’

His expressive lips twisted in irritation. ‘Let’s consider the matter closed. I have made contact with the clinic and it is all settled. Your brother is being transferred tomorrow and there is no reason he should know who is footing the bill if that is the way you want it.’

Presented with this fait accompli, Mari shook her head in disbelief, the only response she felt capable of giving. The tension that had sprung up seemingly from nowhere hung heavy in the damp air, and breathing had become something that required conscious effort. It was, she thought guiltily, a sad commentary on her as a sister that she remained so vulnerable to the sexual charge that this man emanated. He didn’t even have to try... What would happen if he did try?

She pushed the question away, unwilling and unable to deal with the distraction or for that matter the answer it might produce.

The silence that built seemed to have a life of its own and a heartbeat that she could feel pulsing. Her fingers plucked fretfully at the knot of bright fabric at the base of her throat until she blurted with more force than she intended, ‘I don’t want you in our life!’

Well, that came from the heart, he thought, directing a slow, sardonic, mirthless smile her way. ‘You should have thought of that before you put yourself in mine.’

She shivered. It was a comment she felt in whole-hearted agreement with; she was living with the consequences of her own actions. The knowledge did not make it easier.

‘Why would you help my brother if you don’t think you’re responsible? You expect me to believe that you’re some sort of altruistic saint?’

His rebuttal was immediate. ‘My offer is not inspired by guilt.’ Not his guilt, but his tender-hearted sister was showing a tendency to beat herself up about things, and if her ex-boyfriend ended up in a wheelchair that situation would not improve. He would do everything in his power to make sure that didn’t happen.