Wicked Surrender: Ruthless Awakening / The Multi-Millionaire's Virgin Mistress / The Timber Baron's Virgin Bride

‘But my need,’ he said thickly, ‘is much greater than theirs—believe me.’ He grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him. ‘So stay and be nice. You know you want to.’

Caught off balance, Rhianna found herself pinned against him so closely that his state of arousal became embarrassingly evident.

She tried to say, Stop this now—but her words were smothered by the heat of his mouth, and his hands were tugging at the buttons of her dress.

Then from behind them, a man’s cool voice said, ‘So there you are, Simon. Everyone’s looking for you, particularly Carrie. Your friend Jimmy’s drunk and behaving rather badly.’

And, to her horror, Rhianna realised that the voice belonged to Diaz Penvarnon. And that he was standing watching them from the doorway of the loose box, dark brows raised, and his eyes like steel.

Simon let her go as if he’d been stung, and swung round defensively. ‘What am I supposed to do about it?’

‘You brought him.’ Diaz sounded bored. ‘You deal with him. He can hardly stand up, let alone walk. And go now, please,’ he added as Simon seemed prepared to argue. ‘Sorry to upset your pleasant interlude, but Carrie’s mother is getting upset.’ He paused. ‘And so is Carrie.’

Simon shrugged almost airily. ‘You know how it is, man.’ He glanced, grinning, at Rhianna. ‘If the offer’s on the table, you can hardly turn it down—especially when it comes so nicely packaged.’

He set off across the yard, walking none too steadily himself.

Dazed, Rhianna watched him go, his words beating in her brain. She thought, He’s deliberately made it sound as if this was my idea. As if I came out here to be with him—wanting—this…

She turned to Diaz, saw the direction of his gaze, and, looking down, realised her dress was unfastened almost to the waist.

‘Oh, God,’ she said. Dry-mouthed, fingers shaking, she attempted to fumble the buttons back into their holes.

‘A little late for modesty, wouldn’t you say?’ His voice reached her harshly.

‘You don’t have to watch,’ she said. ‘I have to get back to work.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘You don’t. You’re finished for tonight. The only place you’re going is home to bed.’

She said tautly, ‘Is that an order—sir?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It is.’ He paused. ‘So what was this? An extra birthday present for Carrie? Having her heart broken? Because if she’d turned up here instead of me that’s what would have happened.’

He shook his head. ‘You of all people should know how she feels about Simon Rawlins, Rhianna. And, whatever I think of him, I know that falling in love with the right person isn’t always a given—at any age. Maybe he’s like a virus, and she’ll recover eventually, but that time is clearly not yet. So keep your predatory little hands off her precious apple cart—and that’s another order.’

His words seemed to pelt her like stones, making her quiver under the onslaught. Because what could she say in her own defence? It wasn’t like that. How feeble and unconvincing was that?

Besides, when Simon had grabbed her she’d been too stunned to react immediately, so she hadn’t even been fighting him off when Diaz had walked in.

Making herself decent was no longer a priority. All that mattered was getting out of there—away from him—away from the icy condemnation in his voice for which she had no answer that he would ever believe.

But as she went past him he caught her arm, halting her.

The silver eyes were sombre. ‘Is this how you rate yourself—sex in an empty stable with another girl’s man? You disappoint me.’

‘And of course we can’t have that.’ Anger and bitterness were at war inside her, making her reckless. ‘But, as it happens, things would never have gone that far.’

‘You imagine you were the one in control of the situation?’ he asked derisively. ‘Not from where I was sitting, sweetheart. And a last-minute change of heart doesn’t always work with someone half-cut and looking for mischief. If I hadn’t followed you there could have been trouble.’

She stiffened. ‘How good of you to take such an interest in an employee’s private affairs,’ she said. ‘But also quite unnecessary. I can take care of myself.’

He said slowly, ‘Can you indeed?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Of course.’ And tried not to think of Simon’s fingers on her flesh. The pressure of his mouth.

Diaz swung her round, pushing her against the outside wall of the stable. He put one hand on the brickwork beside her and leaned towards her, his other hand cupping her chin, his thumb rhythmically stroking the delicate line of her jaw.

He said softly, ‘Are you quite sure of that?’

She looked up into his eyes. They were pale as the moonlight itself, the irises very dark. They held an expression she had never encountered before—with anyone. Certainly not with Simon a few minutes ago, she thought, and realised she was frightened and excited at the same time.

He added, ‘Prove it.’ Then bent his head and put his mouth slowly and carefully on hers, caressing her lips lightly and sensuously.

It was not the frank lust she’d experienced just now. Nor was it passion. Or not yet, anyway. Even in her comparative innocence Rhianna recognised that.

He was simply asking a question. Testing her quite gently, but also inexorably. This time demanding an answer.

She’d been kissed before tonight, of course. Not often, it was true, and certainly not well. The school had thrown a leavers’ party with a disco, and several of the lads had tried their luck during the slow dances. She’d accepted those minor advances with good-humoured resignation, if not pleasure. The boys hadn’t been strangers, after all, and she hadn’t wanted to make a fuss or hurt anyone’s feelings. But she’d moved away as soon as the dance was over, making it tacitly plain there’d be no repetition.

But this—this—was wholly different. As his kiss deepened, coaxing her lips to part for him, his hand was tracing the curve of her slender throat, lingering on the leap and flutter of her pulse, then moving down to her loosened dress to stroke the first delicate swell of her breast and linger there.

Her reaction was instant, shocking her with its intensity. Making her aware of explicit sensations—needs—never before imagined, let alone experienced. Enticing her with the scent—the taste of him.

She wanted, she thought as her brain reeled, to answer all his questions. To twine her arms round his neck and feel the warmth, the male hardness of him against her. To return the pressure of his lips and more. To feel his touch on her naked skin and show him she was ready to be a woman. His woman, if he so desired.

But it seemed he did not.

Instead he was lifting his head and stepping back, his expression guarded as he studied her.

He said quietly, ‘I think you seriously over-estimate your resistance levels, Rhianna. Just be glad I don’t take sweets from babies, or you’d be spending the night in my bed, not your own. Which is a seriously bad idea for a great many reasons.’ He added almost harshly, ‘Now, run along, and don’t go looking for trouble with men. Because you’ll surely find it.’

He turned and walked away, and she stayed where she was, leaning against the wall, her legs shaking too much to move.

And at that moment a light came on, illuminating the entire yard—including the tall figure of Diaz Penvarnon crossing to the rear entrance of the house.

Rhianna turned her head, startled, and saw the dark shape of her aunt standing at the window of the flat, looking down. She couldn’t see her face, but instinct warned she’d gone from one kind of trouble straight to another.

Reluctantly she moved, walking slowly round the yard to the flat door and going in.

Kezia Trewint was waiting for her in the living room, her face set, her deep-set eyes burning with anger and scorn as she looked at the girl hesitating in the doorway.

‘So,’ she said. ‘You’ve been with him. Another Carlow woman chasing after a Penvarnon man. Just as I knew you’d be all those years ago.’

Rhianna gasped. ‘What—what do you mean?’

‘I mean you—up against the stable wall with Mr Diaz. A slut—a dirty little tart—just like your mother before you.’ She drew a hoarse breath. ‘Didn’t she bring enough shame on our family? And him of all men?’

‘No,’ Rhianna managed. ‘It—it wasn’t like that…’