Dirty Aristocrat

Especially not him!

The small sound was as if someone had slapped him, his head jerked upwards, pulling his wandering gaze back up to my face. For a second he continued to look at me as if he wanted to

devour me, then he drew a sharp breath, and the sudden crack in his armor was gone. Wiped out. So completely I felt as if I had imagined the entire episode. The classically handsome face

tightened once more into a hard mask and his eyes became chips of ice again. Cold. Detached.

‘Sorry,’ he said not sounding sorry at all, ‘but I find this grieving widow act a bit hard to swallow. I don’t know what your game is, but quite honestly, I don’t give a damn. I’m

executor of the trust until you are twenty-one and after that you are on your own, but in the meantime the less contact I have with you the better. Don’t call me unless it is absolutely

necessary. Please put all your expenses through my office. I’m not Robert. You can’t bat your eyelashes and expect me to come running. I don’t like chaos. I don’t want to be distracted.’

I stared at him open-mouthed with shock. Where on earth did that come from? How could he go from sizzling hot to ice-cold? Then I became furious. How dare he? He was as bad as the other

three. I didn’t do anything wrong.

‘Have I ever asked you to come running? It was you who wanted this meeting today. The arrangement you suggest sounds like a perfect solution to our little problem. I seem to have lost my

appetite. Do please excuse me. By all means stay and finish your meal. You are, after all, the executor of my estate.’

I shot up from my seat and would have stalked off in a fit of temper, but his hand shot out and caught my wrist. My anger fled and all that was left was a deep, deep wound. I didn’t want

to fight with him. I had enough enemies. I didn’t need him to be my enemy too. The truth was I was so alone and a little frightened. I stared down at him and tried to control the dam of

emotions inside me. As much as I tried I could not stop my eyes from filling with stupid tears. They rolled down my face.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ he said and, standing up roughly, pulled me against his hard body.

I was so shocked I stopped crying. Inside me strange things started happening. My heart was suddenly beating faster. My fingers curled into the crisp material of his shirt. I looked up

at him wide-eyed.

‘Oh, shit,’ he groaned.

‘What is it?’ I whispered.

He cleared his throat and, releasing my hand, moved away from me. He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Look, I’m sorry about what I said. I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course,

you must come to me with all your problems.’

Oh my God. I wanted him to kiss me. I looked at him stunned. I felt confused. At the place we found ourselves.

He pushed his hand through his hair again. ‘I really should go. Thanks for the meal and I’m sorry it turned out this way.’ Without looking at me he turned and started to stride out of

the dining room.

‘Ivan,’ I called.

His head swiveled back, his face only half-lit.

‘About Rosalind and …’

‘Legally they don’t have a leg to stand on, but stay well away from them. They’re poison,’ he said harshly.

Suddenly it seemed very important that he left on good terms. ‘I plan to. They give me a serious case of the creeps,’ I said, and pretended to shudder so exaggeratedly it must have made

me look a downright fool.

An involuntary smile slipped onto his lips. ‘Right. Call if me you need me,’ he said.

‘You are my friend, aren’t you, Ivan?’ I asked. I don’t know why I asked. Maybe I just couldn’t bear him to leave yet.

‘Friend?’ He laughed, a hollow sound. ‘Yeah, sure I’m your friend. The best fucking friend you have. Goodnight, Tawny.’

CHAPTER 9

Tawny Maxwell

I slept badly and woke up feeling restless and dissatisfied. After a big breakfast of toast, ham, eggs, pancakes smothered in butter and jelly and coffee, I dressed in my riding gear and

went outside. There had been more snow during the night, and the top layer was perfect powder. There was a freezing chill in the air, and above me the sky was an uninterrupted clear

blue.

Thin frozen puddles by the entrance of the stables crackled under my winter boots. Jack, the groom, had already saddled up my horse, Dutch. Jack’s ears were reddened with the cold.

‘Thanks, Jack,’ I said, looking at Dutch with real pleasure. He was such a beauty, slender limbed and glossy as silk. I could see his breath come up in great puffs in the freezing chill

of the air. I took a sugar cube out of my pocket and held it in the palm of my hand. His breath felt lovely and warm and his lips scraped my skin.