Taming the Rebel Tycoon: Wife by Approval / Dating the Rebel Tycoon / The Playboy Takes a Wife

Though, judging by the care he had taken to avoid upsetting his housekeeper, he didn’t bring his women here, he must be used to having his every need met. Which meant he could regard the interruption as just a slight annoyance.

Whereas she felt empty and desolate, like someone who had been torn from the gates of paradise just as they were about to open…

But, unless she wanted to risk Mrs Baxter finding her like this, she mustn’t lie here repining.

The thought galvanizing her into action, she got out of bed and pulled on her gown while she found fresh underwear and a clean blouse.

While she had been drifting along, sexually unawakened, it had been comparatively easy to deny her body’s needs. But being awakened, feeling really alive for the first time, though wonderful, was a two-edged sword.

Trying to ignore the way her body still cried out for fulfilment, the demons of frustration that clamoured for release, she put on her suit, coiled her hair and made-up lightly.

Then she repacked her case, gathered up her coat and handbag and, allowing herself no more time for regrets or thoughts of what might have been, made her way downstairs.

There was no sign of either the housekeeper or Richard and everything was quiet as she descended the stairs.

In the hall she hesitated, suddenly embarrassed at the thought of having to face him after everything that had happened.

It would be so much easier if she was free to just slip away, as self-sufficient, as uninvolved as she had been before she had first seen him standing in Cartel’s car park.

But she wasn’t.

No longer mistress of her own destiny, at this precise moment she could no more make herself walk away and leave him than she could fly to the moon. As though caught in a spell, she was held by invisible bonds, ties she didn’t begin to understand but couldn’t escape.

It was both a frightening and strangely exhilarating thought.

She couldn’t be in love. It couldn’t have happened this fast. But from being a woman very much alone, trapped in an emotional vacuum, overnight everything had changed. She had finally been awakened and was alive in a way that she had never known before.

Even when she and Kevin had been newly engaged and she had thought she loved him, she had never felt like this.

But, no matter how she felt, when they got back from Castle Anders, for the sake of her self-respect, she must move into a hotel.

Leaving her case in the hall, she headed for the study. As she reached the door she heard Richard’s voice and hesitated.

‘Yes, I’m sorry about that, but as things are…’ he was saying. Then, after a pause, ‘I have to act now…I simply can’t afford to risk waiting…’

She had started to turn away as, his voice brisk and determined, he went on, ‘I certainly hope so…Straight away, all being well…Now, I’d better get moving…Yes, I’ll do that…Bye.’

The door opened abruptly and he came striding out. His dark face more than a little tense, he said, ‘I was just coming to look for you. About ready to go?’

‘Yes.’ Whatever the trip to Castle Anders brought, it was something she felt impelled to do.

His face relaxing into a smile, he said, ‘That’s good,’ and put a hand at her waist.

Just that light touch seemed to brand her through her clothing.

‘As it’s a Saturday morning and the traffic’s often bad,’ he went on, ‘it might take us longer than usual to get there. But we can always have lunch on the way—’ Seeing her case, he stopped speaking abruptly.

Quickly, before she could weaken, she explained, ‘I’ve brought my belongings in the hope that when we get back to London you’ll be kind enough to drop me at a hotel.’

‘Of course,’ he agreed smoothly, ‘if you’re sure that’s what you want.’

Outside, the sky was a Mediterranean blue and it was warm and sunny, with a return to the Indian summer they had been enjoying. A balmy breeze carried the scent of late roses and somewhere close at hand a bird sang, turning town into country.

The sleek silver Porsche was standing by the kerb with a dark blue limousine drawn up behind it and Jervis—stocky and middle-aged—standing by.

Handing the chauffeur Tina’s case, Richard said, ‘I’ve decided to drive myself, so you can put that in the Porsche, garage the limo and take the rest of the day off.’

‘Very good, sir.’ There was gladness and relief in the man’s voice. ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘I suppose you know your favourite team’s on the box this afternoon?’ Richard queried with a grin.

Jervis returned the grin. ‘Don’t I just! And they stand a good chance of winning.

‘There’s a special preview before the run-up to the match,’ he went on, ‘so as soon as Mrs Baxter gets back—they’re her favourite team too—we’ll have an early lunch and get settled.’

So the housekeeper wasn’t back. Richard must have been mistaken. Or lying deliberately.

Oh, don’t start that again! Tina scolded herself and wondered what had got into her. Usually she was well-balanced, not one to harbour foolish thoughts, but somehow, since yesterday lunch time, she had lost her common sense along with her equilibrium.

As soon as her case was in the boot and she was installed in the passenger seat, with a word of thanks and a nod to the chauffeur, Richard slid in beside her. A moment later they had left the quiet square and joined the busy Saturday morning mêlée.

As they headed out of town, the traffic proved to be very heavy and it was stop-start for most of the way. Once the suburbs had been left behind them, however, and they reached the quieter country roads, things improved enormously.

When it was obvious that the most stressful part of the journey was over, she asked, ‘Where exactly is Castle Anders?’

‘Some five miles from the picturesque market town of Anders Cross and a couple of miles from the village of West Anders.’

It seemed that Anders was a name to be reckoned with, Tina thought a shade dazedly and asked, ‘How long have the Anders family lived there?’

‘Our branch of the family have lived at the castle for well over six hundred years.’

She was still marvelling at that when he went on, ‘My mother, who lost both her parents in a plane crash when she was just a toddler, was brought up there by her grandparents.

‘When she met and fell in love with my father, Richard Cavendish, and wanted to marry him, they gave the couple their blessing on condition that he changed his name from Cavendish to Anders and made his home at the castle. Which he did.

‘When my great-grandfather passed away at ninety-three, he left me his business empire and bequeathed Castle Anders to my mother on the understanding that after her death it should come to me…’

‘So your parents still live there?’

He shook his head. ‘They’re both dead.’ Heavily, he added, ‘My mother died earlier this year.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘You must miss her.’

He acknowledged her condolence with a glance from those tawny eyes and a little nod.

‘Have you any brothers or sisters?’

‘No. I’m the last of this particular branch of the family—at least until I marry and have children of my own.