Tycoon's Choice: Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal

The tension suddenly tightening like a hempen noose around her throat, she gazed up at him with wide, greeny-blue eyes. ‘That’s why I inveigled you here.’

That answered the first of her questions, but not the second. ‘I can’t imagine what you hope to gain,’ she burst out agitatedly.

‘Can’t you?’

Watching her bite her lip, he glanced in the direction of the thick sheepskin rug. ‘Shall we move in front of the fire and—?’

Flinching away, she cried hoarsely, ‘No!’

He raised a dark, mocking brow. ‘Anyone would think I was about to strip you naked and have my wicked way with you.’

When, her heart pounding against her ribs, she said nothing, he added softly, ‘But that comes later…’

‘If you lay a finger on me, I’ll scream.’

He clicked his tongue. ‘How melodramatic. Unfortunately, there’s no one to hear you.’

‘There’s Mrs Boyce and her husband.’

‘They’ve retired for the night…And, as their accommodation is several hundred yards away, above the old stable block, you’d have to scream very loudly indeed.’

She swallowed, her throat tight and dry. ‘There must be other servants…’

‘What staff I have live in modern bungalows on the estate. I’m afraid we’re quite alone, so screaming would be useless.

‘In any case, it’s unnecessary at the moment. I was only going to suggest that we had our coffee in front of the fire.’

Feeling a little foolish, and realising vexedly that that was what he’d intended, she crossed to the hearth and sat down on the big leather couch while he collected the glass coffee jug from the hotplate.

Surely this was just some cat-and-mouse game he was playing in order to frighten her? she thought distractedly. And if it was, all she needed to do was keep calm and refuse to be frightened.

Which was easier said than done.

And if it wasn’t?

No, she couldn’t let herself think that way. There was only tonight to get through.

Only?

Then tomorrow morning she would find some way of leaving, she promised herself, even if she had to abandon her cases and walk…

‘Planning your escape?’

She jumped, and as her colour started to rise he laughed. ‘I’ve hit the nail on the head if that blush is anything to go by.’

How could he walk in and out of her mind like that? she wondered agitatedly as she accepted the cup of coffee he handed her.

He sat down beside her and, as though answering her question, went on, ‘You have a very expressive face. Just then you looked fiercely determined…

‘But I remember when you used to look eager and expectant, full of anticipation, hungry with desire and passion. Then afterwards, soft and dreamy, sated with love…’

‘Stop it!’ she cried.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Does the remembrance make you uncomfortable? As you profess to have loved Noel, do you regret two-timing him?’

‘I regret ever meeting you,’ she cried.

‘Life’s full of regrets. When we were in bed together, did you ever think of him? Regret that he wasn’t the one holding you, making love to you?’

‘Many times,’ she flashed and, seeing the way his mouth tightened, realised with a feeling of triumph that she’d scored a hit, even if it was only his pride that was hurt.

‘Was Alan a good lover?’

Rattled by the unexpected question, she answered sharply, ‘That’s nothing to do with you.’

‘How many other men have you had apart from him?’

‘How many other women have you had apart from—?’ About to say ‘Fiona’, she brought herself up short.

‘Apart from…?’ He raised an eyebrow at her.

When she said nothing, he suggested, ‘You? Well, I—’

She shook her head violently. ‘I don’t want to know. I really don’t care.’

In truth, the idea of him making love to another woman still had the power to hurt. But his question had smacked far too much of the pot calling the kettle black.

Slowly, he said, ‘I can’t say I’ve lived like a monk, Madeleine, but neither am I any Casanova. One woman in my life is enough…’

You could have fooled me, she thought bleakly.

‘But not just any woman will do. In fact my bed’s been empty for quite a while…’

If that was the truth, where was Fiona? Unless she was once again in some clinic?

‘The only thing I’ve had to warm it has been the dream of having you there…’

Though she knew now how faithless he was, her heart seemed to turn over in her breast.

Unable to stand any more, she put her coffee-cup down so that it rattled in the saucer and jumped to her feet. ‘I’m going up to the flat.’

‘Not just yet.’ He caught her wrist and, before she could brace herself, pulled her onto his lap and held her there, both hands encircling her waist.

After a moment’s useless struggle she sat stiff and straight, her head turned away.

‘Relax,’ he said, looking at the pure curve of her cheek. ‘At one time you used to enjoy sitting on my lap in front of the fire…Especially if I—’

‘Well, now I’d hate it!’ she flashed.