A Forbidden Passion: No Longer Forbidden? / The Man She Loves To Hate / A Wicked Persuasion

“No?” Her thready need for reassurance pulled at him, along with the misery searching for forgiveness in her gaze as he caught her reflection in the mirror.

“No,” he affirmed, caving briefly to her palpable anguish. “You’ll need your things,” he added, seizing the excuse to escape the close atmosphere of the humid room. He needed to get away from her before his barriers against her crumbled any more.

It wasn’t until he was halfway down the stairs that he remembered he’d had every intention of forcing Rowan to get out as soon as possible, not help her settle in.

Rowan pulled on leggings and a loose T-shirt from her closet, trying to process the consoling remark Nic had made about Olief choosing to fly. Before she could make sense of it Nic was pushing back into her room and setting her bags on the floor. He straightened and gave her a cursory, masculine once over that made her tingle.

“Let’s be clear. This isn’t your all-inclusive. I’ll give you a few days to gather your belongings, but then you’ll move on. While you’re here you’ll pull your weight with cooking, cleaning and laundry.”

She turned her back on him to hide the sting of his sudden return to Lord of the Manor disdain. Without saying anything, she took her time twisting her wet hair into a coil and fixing it with a pair of chopsticks off her dresser-top.

“I came for the anniversary,” she informed him stiffly, her insides fluttering with sexual awareness as she considered sharing this house with him. Alone. It could be unpleasant, but she wouldn’t be scared off. “Don’t even try to pry me out of here before then. I’ll shred you to pieces.”

His brows lifted and she almost heard his unspoken, I’d like to see you try.

Her bravado teetered as she realized he was more than big enough to physically throw her out, and had financial strength on his side, as well. For all her show of defiance, she was fragile as hell at her core. That was why she’d come back to the one constant in her life: Rosedale. She needed a sense of security while she figured out what to do.

“This is the only real home I’ve ever had, Nic. Maybe you and I aren’t related, but this is where we gathered as a family. I need that right now.” She kept her tone as steady as possible, refusing to descend into begging. “You can give me that much.”

Nic braced an arm against the doorjamb, shaking his head at his bare feet before he lifted his derisive gaze. “I have to question that kind of sentimentality. What do you gain by being here for a day that has no more meaning than any other? They’re gone.” He wasn’t being unkind, just honest—which was more difficult to face. “They’re not any more or less gone whether you’re here or in London or Antarctica.”

Rowan gripped her elbows as she turned, shoulders hunching protectively as she absorbed what a truly unfeeling man he was. “I find it comforting to be here,” she excused, hearing the creak in her voice at admitting to what he obviously saw as weakness. “But you can go back to Athens, or wherever you’re living these days.”

A slow smile crept across his features, completely without amusement. “You wish. No, I’ll stay. And I’ll even let you stay until the anniversary if you promise to sign your name on the dotted line once you’ve finished lighting candles in the windows.”

“Why do you have to be so disparaging about it?”

“I’m being magnanimous,” he defended, straightening into cool civility. “Would you rather I make your stay conditional on your signing right now?”

“Oh, very nice,” she said, instantly spitting venom over that sleight of hand. “I knew you were tough, Nic. I didn’t know you were ruthless.”

“Now you do,” he said without acrimony.

“And you expect me to housemaid while I’m here?” Her fists dug into her ribs beneath the pressure of her elbows. “You know it was the evil stepmother who had Cinderella scrubbing floors and sorting ballgowns all day.”

“What would you rather do to earn your keep?” he shot back, swift and lethal. “Demonstrate more of your mother’s survival skills?”

“Sleep with you, you mean? Not in this lifetime. Get over yourself!”

His brows shot up and his stance altered subtly to a predatory one full of challenge. Their kiss and her undeniable response was suddenly right here in the room with them. Sexual awareness gathered and sparked. The sheer magnitude of what was being acknowledged, her inability to ignore it, made Rowan’s heart race in frightened anticipation. All she could think was, Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

“It wasn’t like that with Mum and Olief,” she stammered. “She loved him.”

“Give it a rest, Ro. I’ve had mistresses. I know what it’s like.” His chilly assessment of her figure left a trail of heat over her breasts, down her stomach and up between her thighs. “Quid pro quo,” he said with a curl of his lip. “Not love.”

His words wrenched at a place between her throat and heart. She didn’t examine the source too closely. Part of it had to do with acknowledging all those unknown women who had shared his bed—something she’d never let herself think about too much—but there was a deeper sense of loss in hearing his derision of love.

“Well, I’m not going to have sex with you to stay here,” she said, forcing herself to stand up to him even though she was on very shaky legs. Figuratively and literally. Despite his horrid lecture two years ago, she knew not to get into dicey situations with men and this was one of them. Best to get the no stated clearly. “I’m not going to let you seduce me into signing those papers before I’m good and ready either.”

Her futile training in Paris for once bore fruit, allowing her to walk out gracefully on ravaged feet, her bearing straight and her shoulders proud.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_513782a0-e3d2-5817-8988-5d637df8ad5e)

SEDUCE her. It was a challenge no red-blooded man could dismiss, even one whose conscience was as tortured by the prospect as his libido.

Even with the memory of Olief’s setdown replaying in his mind, Nic couldn’t stop fantasizing about having Rowan. She had essentially agreed to sign the papers after the anniversary, so he didn’t need to try persuading her that way, but a carnal voice inside still urged him to seduce her for personal vindication. She deserved some payback for that stunt with Olief, the licentious appetite in him rationalized, not to mention a taste of the wanting and not having that he’d been suffering all these years.

Hellfire, he wanted to end this craving, but as much as he dreamed of taking her to the brink and walking away, he knew if he started something he would finish it.

That was where his hard-earned self-protective instincts kicked in and reminded him not to do anything rash. If you played with fire you got burned, and there was definitely a fire in that woman. Their kiss, the way her mouth had opened and crushed into the pressure of his, wouldn’t leave his mind, making him useless behind his desk.

Given that his plans had changed, and he’d now be here a full two weeks, he had spent the afternoon reconfiguring Olief’s office space to his own taste so he could work more productively. It wasn’t happening. Despite Rosedale being big and quiet, he was intensely aware there was another occupant here.

Forget her, he commanded himself. But there were other distractions. The promised thunderstorm had brought darkness early and was rattling the windows. Hunger gnawed at his belly, reminding him he’d skipped lunch. He needed to approve this project and get it back to the VP while the time change window was still open, though.

Another flash of lightning bleached the windows and a huge clap of thunder reverberated above the house. The lights flickered—then everything went black.

Nic swore at the inconvenience. The wiring here was modern and top-notch. All the equipment was protected with surge bars. The vineyard manager would investigate the outage and report it. All he’d lost was his wi-fi connection and the widescreen monitor. A glance at his laptop in its dock showed the battery light gleaming reliably. Nic opened the lid and the screen came alive with a pallid glow. He flicked his mobile into hotspot mode and was able to retrieve his report and continue making comments.

“Nic?” The flickering yellow of a candle entered the room ahead of Rowan, her face sweetly tinted with warm golden light.

The words seduce her tantalized him again. He sat back, thinking, Do it because you want to. Such a bad idea.

“Afraid of the thunder?” he taunted lightly.

She set the squat candle in its round bowl on the corner of his desk. “I thought you might be fumbling around in the dark, but of course you’re perfectly equipped.”

“Thanks for noticing,” he drawled, and wondered if that was a blush climbing into her shadowed cheeks or just the flush of impatience women got when a man made an off-color remark. “I’m fine. Working without interruption, in fact.” He turned his nose back to the screen to steer himself from temptation.

He still tracked Rowan as she took an idle stroll into the dark corners of the office, pausing at the window as rain gusted against the glass before taking herself to the bookshelf of worn style-guides, atlases, and other reference tomes.

“Use my tablet if you want a novel,” he offered. “There are hundreds on it.”

“If I have time to read, I have time to practice.” She said it like something she’d memorized by rote. “Same goes for television—not that that’s an option right now.” She came away from the bookshelf with a look that was both disgruntled and lost. “I’ve already done my exercises. If I work my leg anymore I’ll just hurt myself. I was about to start dinner, but the freezer is empty and the power’s gone.”

“I brought the boat,” Nic reminded her, his body involuntarily reacting to the way she moved like a leaf in a stream, meandering in a way that mesmerized him.

“I’ve had enough of the sea today, thanks.” Her aimless path took her to a lamp fringe, which she lightly stroked, making the silk lift and fall in a ripple.

This was so like her—the way she accepted as her due that a room would pause and take notice when she entered. What was it about her that made it happen? he wondered. She was lovely, with her buttermilk skin and sable hair, the sensual softness of her features and the toned perfection of her frame, but that wasn’t what gave her such power. There was something more innate, something warm, that promised happiness and fulfillment if she noticed you.

Nic shut down that bizarre tangent of thought. He was not one of those people who fell for charisma, watching and waiting for the next act, aching to feel important because he was touched by her attention.

Irritated with himself, he did what he’d always done when Rowan inveigled herself into his space. He pretended he was ignoring her even though he could practically feel the heat off her body from across the room.

That was his libido keeping her on its scope. He hadn’t made much time for women in the last year and his body was noticing.

“Cold sandwiches are fine,” he said. “Bring mine here so I can keep working.”