Ruthless Tycoon, Innocent Wife

His voice was different; less cold, more…human. Marianne sniffed and inelegantly rubbed her nose on the sleeve of her robe in the darkness. She didn’t know what to say.

The next moment he had settled the decision for her by dropping down into the garden. ‘I can just see the gleam of your hair,’ he began to say before going headlong.

She knew what he had tripped over. Her father had bought her mother a little stone statue of a cherub one Christmas and positioned it near their bench. She heard him swear; the statue was shin height and, remarkably, considering the depth of her grief the moment before, she wanted to smile. She bet not many women had had the privilege of seeing Rafe Steed prostrate before them. Actually, neither had she. The darkness was too complete. ‘Are you all right?’ she managed after a second.

‘I’ll live.’

A moment later a solid shape plonked alongside her. She squeaked a little, she couldn’t help it, before covering the involuntary admission of fright by saying quickly, ‘You shouldn’t be here.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘I still don’t see how you came to be outside Seacrest.’

‘I told you, I couldn’t sleep.’

Marianne’s nostrils twitched. She could smell whisky on his breath. ‘You’ve been drinking,’ she accused. ‘No wonder you couldn’t sleep. Alcohol is a stimulant.’

‘Spare me the biology lesson.’

Her nose was taking in something else, too—the clean, citrusy aroma that was part of him. Refusing to acknowledge how her stomach muscles had clenched, she said self-righteously, ‘You shouldn’t be walking on the cliff path if you’re intoxicated, or the beach, come to that. And in the dark, too. That’s foolhardy and dangerous.’ Even to herself she sounded like someone treble her age.

Ignoring this, Rafe said, ‘Are you feeling better now?’

‘What?’ Such was the power of his presence she had forgotten she had been crying. Recovering immediately, she said, ‘Oh, yes—yes, thank you. It was just—Well, you know.’

‘In part. My mother died five years ago but after a protracted illness. We had a while to come to terms with the fact she was going to leave us, although I don’t know if that helped much when the time came. Anyway, I’m glad I’ve seen you.’

He was speaking as though they had bumped into each other out shopping or something and Marianne blinked in the darkness. She could just make out the outline of him now—big and dark against the sliver of moonlit sky slanting through the leafy branches of the trees.

‘I was out of line earlier.’ His voice was low and deep and smoky. ‘Not that I spoke less than the truth, but it wasn’t the time or place, not with the shock of the accident and all.’

‘You might have spoken the truth as you see it but you’re wrong.’

‘I’m not going to argue, Marianne.’ His tone said that was exactly what he was going to do. ‘But the facts speak for themselves.’

She stood up. ‘You’ve had too much to drink and earlier today agreed not to discuss this again. Come into the house and phone for a taxi. You shouldn’t walk back to the hotel along the cliff path.’

He stood up, too, his voice impatient as he said, ‘I’ve had a couple of whiskies, that’s all.’

He was standing so close she could feel his body warmth reaching across the space between them and a tingle of excitement danced over her skin. The velvety darkness was perfumed with a thousand summer scents and the air was balmy and rich. ‘It’s gone two in the morning,’ she said breathlessly. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’

‘No, I shouldn’t.’

He bent towards her and she did nothing to avoid him. One hand closed around her wrist, drawing her into him, and the other pressed into the small of her back, urging her still closer. Marianne felt she couldn’t breathe as she waited for him to kiss her.

When his mouth closed over hers she felt the impact in every part of her body, even though his lips were gentle, even sweet. She had expected…She didn’t know what she had expected but his tenderness was her undoing. It cut through any defences like a knife through butter and she found herself wanting more as she pressed into him in a manner which would have shocked her only seconds before.

‘This is crazy.’ His voice was husky against her mouth and suddenly the tempo of the kiss changed, his lips becoming more demanding as he sensed her response. ‘Madness…’

She agreed with him but was powerless to move away. The intimacy of the dark, quiet garden was like a different world and, as she began to tremble, his lips moved over her face with swift burning kisses before returning to her half-open mouth. He plundered the undefended territory with ruthless expertise and she heard herself moan as he triggered the desire for more. Her arms had wound round his neck and her fingers tangled themselves in the dark crisp hair at the base of his neck. He groaned in his throat and at the same time she felt the unmistakable proof of his arousal against the soft swell of her stomach.

It was all she needed to bring her back to reality and the enormity of what she was doing. This was Rafe Steed—Rafe Steed. The same man who had caused her such anguish this afternoon and who had besmirched her mother’s good name, and here she was encouraging him to think she was up for goodness knew what. Had she gone stark staring mad?

‘No.’ She struggled slightly against the broad chest and immediately found herself released. ‘I don’t want this.’

He didn’t answer immediately but she could hear his ragged breathing as he stepped back a pace, giving her room. ‘If it helps, neither do I,’ he said after a long moment. ‘It was a mistake, OK? Put it down to the whisky and the darkness and the general theme of knight in shining armour comforting fair maiden in distress.’

‘Knights in shining armour don’t behave like you’ve just done.’ He had a cheek, calling her a mistake, Marianne thought furiously. And how dared he say he didn’t want to kiss her?