Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

Copyright

“Close the door. I want to talk to you.”

Obediently, Serena did as she was told, looking up at Nick hotly through her lashes.

He walked toward her, and said deeply, “I don’t have much time. I want to sign this deal and get the wheels moving on it. But there’s an essential ingredient in the package that I don’t yet have.”

“I don’t understand,” she said huskily.

“Yes, you do,” he said thickly, watching her.

Nick suddenly lifted his strong hands to her face, making her gasp, staring up at him as he said under his breath, “You’re the essential ingredient, Lady Serena. You. That’s why I’ve asked you here now. I’m prepared to invest millions in Flaxton Manor—but only on one condition.” His blue eyes slipped to her mouth as he said, “That you agree to be my wife.”

SARAH HOLLAND was born in Kent and brought up in London, England. She began writing at eighteen because she loved the warmth and excitement of Harlequin. She has traveled the world, living in Hong Kong, the south of France and Holland. She attended a drama school, and was a nightclub singer and a songwriter. She now lives on the Isle of Man. Her hobbies are acting, singing, painting and psychology. She loves buying clothes, noisy dinner parties and being busy.

Ruthless Lover

Sarah Holland

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Burke’s Peerage

With thanks to Kate Lonsdale and Susan Goddard

of Burke’s Peerage for their considerable help regarding title, inheritance and protocol.

CHAPTER ONE

SERENA slid out of her black silk négligé and laid it carelessly on the antique chair. The long black lace nightgown skimmed her slender body with sensual elegance. In the mirrored wardrobe, she saw her long red-gold hair fall seductively over one eye and smiled ruefully. Her looks had always been at odds with her background.

Slipping into bed, she yawned. It had been a long day. Outside, New York was in the grip of a heat wave, and lit up like a cosmopolitan dream. The city that never sleeps, she thought with a faint smile, and switched off the light.

It was midnight, and she drifted into a warm reverie. The duvet was as cosy as a nest. Sleep claimed her and she began to dream, as she so often did, in bright colours, seeing oils on canvas and faces from her past turned into swirls of blue, gold, red…

When the bedroom door opened at three a.m. she did not stir. When the powerful male body got into bed beside her she gave a slight sigh, turning towards him.

But when the long hands slid over her waist and drew her gently against him she began to stir, her dream changing from paints and canvas to flesh, as a figure in stark masculine colour came to life and began making love to her.

Serena’s red-gold head tilted back. A strong mouth closed over hers, hard fingers slid over her throat, invoking shivers, and she moaned involuntarily as the kiss forced her to respond, her slender body sliding against his, feeling the sweet, hot rush of desire as she encountered hard stomach, hair-roughened thighs, felt his strong hands slide forcefully down to her slim hips.

Her breath came faster; she was moaning, drowning in sensation as her hands moved up to his strong neck, fingers pushing into thick hair, her body arching in fierce arousal against his.

A rough sound of masculine desire echoed in the dark bedroom; strong hands swept up over her breast, and she gave a hoarse cry of excitement as she felt that mouth, that real mouth close over hers with insistent desire as his hands stroked her erect nipples.

Suddenly her brain flashed away from dreams and into reality. Her lids flickered open to see the stark silhouette of a man’s face, the glitter of blue eyes terrifying her.

‘No…!’ Serena struggled, eyes stretched wide with alarm, panic sending her into a frenzy as she kicked and fought the aggressor in her bed then leapt away with a hoarse cry, running for the door.

The bedside light was punched on by the intruder.

Serena turned, heart crashing at her breastbone, to see Nick sitting up in bed, watching her with a lazy, sardonic smile, his magnificent chest exposed by the loose dark red robe he wore.

For a second, she just stared at him. His black hair was tousled, his tough face filled with cynical mockery, his mouth a hard ruthless line.

‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded as rage flooded through her.

‘Trying to sleep,’ he drawled, running a hand through his black hair. ‘What are you doing here?’

Her green eyes flashed at him. ‘You’re not supposed to be in New York! I was told you’d be in Washington this week!’

‘There was a problem with the jet,’ he said flatly. ‘I was diverted to Kennedy. It was the middle of the night. What was I supposed to do—check into the Plaza?’

‘You like the Plaza!’ she said, struggling to get her chaotic emotions under control, horribly aware that she had responded like wildfire to his kiss and that he knew it.

He laughed sardonically. ‘I love the Plaza. But I have a perfectly good apartment here, and I don’t see why I shouldn’t use it.’

‘Because I’m here!’ she said tightly, standing by the door, green eyes blazing at him. ‘And you knew I was here! My schedule specified New York for the whole of this week.’

‘So it did,’ he said with soft mockery, and let his blue eyes slide with insolent sexual appraisal over her slender body. ‘But I haven’t seen you since Christmas, and I fancied a quick visit. Anything wrong with that?’

‘You’re not interested in seeing me,’ she said angrily. ‘You just came here to cause trouble! I don’t know why, and I don’t really care. But I won’t be used to fill a boring night in your life, Nick, so you may as well just get dressed and call the Plaza!’

Turning, she walked out of the bedroom and into the living-room. She was shaking. Appalled, she stared down at her hands, normally so cool and competent, and saw the powerful tremor that was so uncontrollable.

How dared he do that? Imagine getting into bed with her and kissing her like that! He’d never done it before; never…

The door opened and she whirled, heart in her mouth.

‘Don’t give me orders, Serena,’ Nick drawled, a threat of steel in his voice as he watched her, hands thrust in the pockets of his robe. ‘I’ve always been the one in charge of this marriage, and that’s not going to change now.’

Her mouth shook. ‘You just broke the rules!’ she accused hotly. ‘You shouldn’t have done that!’

‘They’re unwritten rules,’ he said flatly. ‘I can break them any time I like.’

Serena caught her breath at his arrogance. ‘Oh, I see! Just because you’ve been prevented from meeting up with one of your mistresses for the night, you think you can come here and make your demands on me!’ Her body trembled with inexplicable rage. ‘Well, I won’t have it!’

‘It was only a kiss,’ he drawled, steel-blue eyes mocking her.

‘That’s not the point!’

‘A kiss you responded to very excitingly, Serena,’ he said softly, and the hot colour flooded up her neck to her face, leaving her breathless and unable to reply.

There was a brief, tense silence. Her pulses were racing disturbingly, and she felt for the first time that Nick had set their marriage on a different course—a course that terrified her.

After three years, he had suddenly taken the gloves off. She had always known, instinctively, that he might one day do it. But she had never expected it, not really, not in her deepest moments of contemplation.

This situation had all the hallmarks of disaster. She knew Nick was not going to defuse it. Therefore, she would have to be the one to take the necessary steps.

‘Very well.’ Serena lifted her red-gold head. ‘If you refuse to do the decent thing by checking into the Plaza—I’ll go instead.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said flatly. ‘It’s only for one night.’

‘And where do you propose to sleep?’ She arched red-gold brows.

‘In one of the other bedrooms.’ He shrugged broad shoulders, his manner indolent. ‘We have four, after all.’

‘Then why did you come to my room?’ she asked under her breath, hating him. ‘Why did you deliberately get into bed with me?’

He regarded her through heavy eyelids. ‘I told you,’ he said softly, ‘I just fancied a kiss.’

Serena struggled to remain calm in the face of the potent sexual weapons he was turning on her. This situation was getting more dangerous by the second. She couldn’t cope with it, and the look on his ruthless face told her that he knew it, and that he was doing it deliberately.

‘Why are you doing this, Nick?’ she asked under her breath, suddenly sensing the very real threat he had decided to unleash. ‘It’s deliberate, isn’t it?’

He watched her, his face hard. ‘Why should I deliberately jeopardise an arrangement that’s worked so well for so long?’

Her gold lashes flickered. She felt suddenly uncertain. Yet Nick had kept his distance for three years. He had married her for her title, and then just walked away to his work, his mistresses and his busy life without a backward glance.

There had never been any pretence of mutual attraction between them. There had never been any tenderness, or love or hint of affection. For him to come here now and get into bed with her…

‘You’ll be leaving in the morning, then?’ she asked unsteadily.

He inclined his dark head. ‘First thing.’

Serena breathed a little more easily. ‘Right…’ She felt overwhelmingly conscious of her body in the revealing black silk nightdress, especially when Nick was looking at her like that, running his blue gaze with stark sexual appraisal over her. ‘Then, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll move into the spare bedroom and—’

‘There’s no need for that,’ he said coolly. ‘I’ll move.’

She expelled her breath on a sigh of silent relief. ‘Thank you.’

Nick’s hard mouth curved in a mocking little smile. ‘No need to look as though you’re going to faint with relief, darling!’ he murmured, and strolled towards her.

Involuntarily she took a step backwards, staring at him in alarm.

Nick stopped, eyes narrowing. ‘Are you afraid of me, Serena?’

Angrily, she lifted her red-gold head, meeting his cool blue gaze with a challenge. ‘Why on earth should I be afraid of you?’

‘Well, quite,’ he said softly. ‘We’ve been married for three years, and you’ve always treated me with cool indifference. So why the sudden look of alarm in your face?’

‘Anger,’ she corrected, arching her haughty brows. ‘I’m angry with you for doing this.’

His gaze slid to the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the black silk low-cut neckline. Serena felt colour flood her face and her heart start thumping madly. It was so completely out of character for her to react to him like this that she started to shake again, staring at him, acutely aware of his powerful brand of masculinity for the first time.

‘You show anger very excitingly, Serena,’ he said under his breath, and raised his blue eyes to meet hers. ‘I wonder what would happen if I—’

‘Just go to bed, Nick!’ she said hoarsely, stepping back from him, a quiver of powerful excitement in her full mouth.

He looked at her intently, his mouth a firm line, then nodded. ‘Sure. It’s three a.m. and we’re both tired.’

Relief flooded her again. She gave a stiff nod. ‘I won’t see you for breakfast, I take it? You’ll be leaving on the first flight?’

‘Of course,’ he said coolly, and strode across the room towards the master bedroom, going in and closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

Serena stared at the closed door, her heart thumping. It was almost unbelievable that he had done this. To come here in the middle of the night and get into bed with her, start making love to her…

She felt so shaken that she knew going to sleep was impossible. In an effort to come to terms with what had just happened, she went to the kitchen, got a glass and poured herself a very small measure of brandy.

It stung the back of her throat. She enjoyed that sting, and the flood of warmth that came with it. It would help her relax a little, too, so she took it into her bedroom and got into bed, nursing it as she thought about what Nick had just done.

Three years ago, Serena had left a sheltered existence at an English country finishing school to find the shock of her life awaiting her. Her parents were so heavily in debt that Flaxton Manor and the entire estate would have to be sold.

Her parents, the Earl and Countess of Archallagen, were understandably in despair. The manor was a beautiful sixty-seven-room Tudor masterpiece, built in 1532 for a favourite of Anne Boleyn: Robert Flaxton, the Earl of Archallagen. Robert had been in love with Anne Boleyn, and her presence was everywhere, in the square courtyard with the statue of Anne, the minstrel’s gallery and haunted chapel with her initials carved over the doors, and the Tudor rose laced through every oak-panelled room in the house. Robert Flaxton had managed to escape execution in 1536 by disappearing to France when Anne Boleyn was executed, and not returning until Henry VIII died. With his red hair and flashing green eyes, Robert had always had what was known as the Flaxton Luck.

When, over four hundred years later, the Manor fell to the edge of bankruptcy, Serena’s parents’ first thought was to open it to the public. But that would cost even more money. They would have to employ guides, build car parks, print guide-books, make extensive repairs—and the bank was already foreclosing on them.

‘I know someone who might agree to bankroll you out of this,’ the family accountant told them. ‘An American multi-millionaire. Nick Colterne. He’s rich, powerful and bored.’

‘How can anyone be bored if they’re rich and powerful?’ Lord Archallagen commented drily.

‘Because Nick Colterne is a living piece of dynamite! He reorganises companies for fun. Turns everything he touches to gold. He owns about seventy different corporations, and is always on the look-out for something new.’

‘But would he be interested in saving a country estate in an English backwater?’ her father sighed, running a gnarled hand over his eyes.

‘I’ll send him a fax,’ the accountant promised. ‘Outline the details, the financial angle, and see what he says.’

‘Let’s hope it’s yes,’ her father said grimly, ‘or our home will be turned into a hotel or conference centre.’

Serena winced at the thought, her green eyes resting on her father with love. He was too old for this. At sixty, he was close to retirement age, and it showed in the weary droop of his shoulders, the silver eyebrows and old, gardening hands.

Her parents had had Serena late in life. ‘Our little surprise,’ they had always called her. She had been born when they were both in their forties, and her mother had had a traumatic confinement at the age of forty-two.

With her red-gold hair, slanting green eyes and full sensual mouth, Serena had been a surprise in more ways than one. Her mother was blonde, her father dark. The red hair was a throwback to Robert Flaxton, who had caught the heart and attention of Anne Boleyn for such a brief, golden moment.

Serena’s looks were also distinctly at odds with her pedigree. As Lady Serena Flaxton, she was a ‘surprise’ to everyone who met her, because that flaming hair and the sensual curves of her slender body were completely unexpected in a young aristocrat.

Nick Colterne replied within twenty-four hours. He was interested, and would arrive to view the property in three days.

Flaxton Manor went into an uproar. The handful of old faithful staff still working there out of love for the Flaxton family were in a dither of excitement, dusting and polishing along with the rest of the family, desperate to save the estate from bankruptcy.

Nick Colterne arrived in a long black Cadillac limousine.

Serena watched from an upstairs window as he stepped out, dark and dynamic with flashing blue eyes that ran over the Tudor walls with a look of narrowed interest.

Wow! she thought, feeling her heart quickening and her eyes flashing over him, seeing the hard-muscled shoulders, the ruthless mouth and the arrogant stride of his long muscular legs. Nick Colterne looked every inch a man; and fire flashed along her veins as her green eyes moved restlessly over him, wide and admiring.

Suddenly, he looked up and saw her. He stopped dead, staring at her. A powerful crackle of electricity ran through her, making her heart stop, breath cease…

She flushed to her hairline at the penetrating sexual insolence of his gaze as it flashed over her innocent young face, waist-length red hair falling across one eye.

Stepping back with a gasp, she slammed the window shut, trembling.

Downstairs, she heard him striding into the main hall, surrounded by henchmen, biting out instructions, sending them off to investigate while he spoke to her parents in the drawing-room.

He was obviously a whirlwind, Serena thought with a stab of excitement, and waited in her room to hear the outcome of the visit.

‘I’ve never seen him so animated!’ their accountant enthused that night ‘He’s definitely interested.’

‘Do you think he’ll want to buy it from us, though?’ her father said anxiously. ‘We want to try and keep it in the family, you see.’

‘That depends on whether it makes financial sense to him,’ the accountant said with a sigh. ‘He’ll take the biggest money-making option.’

‘Even if it means we lose everything?’ Serena asked passionately. ‘Surely it would be kinder to loan us money and let us repay it over a period of years?’

The accountant laughed. ‘Don’t expect kindness from a man like Nick Colterne. He’s a cynical cutthroat shark, swimming in the most dangerous financial waters of the world. He’ll make you an offer of some sort—but whatever it is, you can be sure he’ll be the one to benefit.’

Serena shuddered. ‘He sounds ruthless…’

‘He’s not a charity, darling.’ The Earl sighed, his face lined with strain. ‘And we’re not in a position to argue. We’ll just have to take whatever he offers us.’

It was an appalling situation to be in, and Serena was frantic over the next twenty-four hours as they waited for Nick Colterne’s decision.

He returned a day later with his Cadillac and his henchmen. In a black business suit he looked the epitome of the cynical business shark, a gold watch-chain glittering across his taut black waistcoat. He moved with all the arrogance of American money, his face tough, cynical and determined.

Serena watched him arrive, keeping herself carefully hidden. He glanced up at her bedroom window, and although she knew he could not possibly see her she felt his eyes narrow on her mouth, and a tremor went through her. Did he have X-ray vision?

The meeting with her parents went on and on. Serena waited in an agony of tension.

At six o’clock, Mottram, the maid, tapped on her bedroom door. ‘His lordship requests that you join him in the drawing-room,’ she said primly, then gave a little cry of worry. ‘Oh, Lady Serena! What’s to become of us…?’

Serena tried to comfort the young girl, patting her shoulder. ‘I don’t know, Mottram. We can only pray…’

When she opened the drawing-room door, the first person she saw was Nick Colterne whirling to face her, his eyes racing over her body with that insolent sexual appraisal, and Serena felt breathless, closing the door shakily behind her.

‘Ah! There you are, my dear!’ Her father got up from one of the worn, patched armchairs and strolled towards her in his English tweeds. ‘Mr Colterne wanted to meet you.’

He introduced Serena to Nick Colterne formally, and she stared at him through her gold lashes, pulses thudding as his powerful tanned hand closed over hers in a formidable grip.

‘So what do I call you?’ Nick drawled softly, blue eyes sliding to burn on her full mouth. ‘Your ladyship?’

‘That’s rather complicated,’ she replied huskily, unable to take her eyes off his powerful face and that hard, ruthless mouth.

‘Oh, I love complications.’ His cool Boston drawl was as dynamic as the rest of him. ‘They make me want to sort them out, pronto.’

‘British peerage is a minefield of protocol,’ her father said with a vague smile. ‘My daughter is an only child, and therefore will inherit my title.’

Her mother smiled. ‘Not in a manner of speaking, darling. She’ll inherit mine.’

‘Of course, of course!’ The earl rubbed his forehead. ‘Serena will eventually become Countess of Archal-lagen.’

‘Countess?’ Nick’s eyes widened.

‘In her own right,’ her father said with a vague smile.

‘What about the man she marries?’ Nick asked coolly.

‘Well,’ her father shrugged, ‘he won’t get a title, but any children my daughter has would certainly inherit it.’

Nick’s blue eyes flicked back to Serena. He stepped a little closer. ‘In the meantime—what do I call you?’

‘Just Lady Serena,’ she said softly, pulses leaping.

‘That’s very formal.’ He flicked his insolent gaze to the full breasts which strained against the delicate silk dress she wore, and she felt her colour rise in fierce excitement at the way he dared look at her so boldly. ‘What happens when we reach an informal footing?’

Serena blushed, lowering her lashes. ‘That depends on how well you know me.’

‘How well do I have to know you before I can call you Serena?’

‘Very well indeed,’ she said huskily.

He smiled, then reached out a strong hand and touched her hair. ‘So, you’re going to be a countess one day…’ He trailed his long fingers through her hair, towering over her, eyes dark with blatant sexual desire. ‘I’ve never met a red-headed countess before.’

Her parents stiffened, staring at him, and Serena took an involuntary step back, green eyes stricken, sensing their disapproval of the way he touched her, and feeling guilty for having enjoyed it.

Nick’s eyes narrowed, shooting quickly to her parents’, and there was a brief, tense silence in the drawing-room as the legal papers remained unsigned on the Elizabethan carved table.

‘Well,’ Nick Colterne drawled, a hard smile curving his cynical mouth, ‘it’s been a long day, hasn’t it? And I feel in need of a little recreation.’ He glanced at the Rolex on his dark-haired wrist. ‘I think I’d like to take your beautiful daughter out to dinner. Any objections?’

Her parents were very still, their faces grim as they looked at Serena, standing before him like a sacrifice.

Serena went to dinner with him, deeply aware of him as she sat stiffly in the back of the luxurious Cadillac, staring accusingly at him through her lashes as he stared back with narrowed eyes.

‘Any good ideas where we can eat?’ he asked, brows lifted.

‘The Flaxton Table does a very nice supper,’ she said shakily, not understanding his interest in her, yet at the same time understanding it at a deep level that terrified her.

They ate at the small family restaurant in the main street of the village. All the villagers, of course, knew what was happening at the manor, and gave her excited looks as she arrived with the American shark with the dark good looks and air of power.

Serena felt so gauche and unsophisticated in his presence. Twice she dropped her fork, and once she spilt the glass of orange juice he brought her.

‘I hear you’ve only just left finishing school.’ Nick Colterne watched her with narrowed speculative eyes. ‘That makes you twenty—right?’

‘Yes.’ Serena found herself tongue-tied in his presence, her pulses racing as she stared again and again at his ruthless mouth and wondered how it would feel if he kissed her with it, very forcefully…very forcefully indeed.

‘You’re very beautiful,’ he said softly, making her hand shake as his blue eyes burned into her. ‘Any boyfriends?’

Serena laughed and shook her head. ‘I haven’t even met any boys yet. Except Derry, the gardener’s son, and he’s just silly.’

Nick’s mouth hardened into a cynical smile, his eyes slipping to her breasts. ‘Well,’ he said under his breath, ‘that’s nice and clear.’

It was as though she had told him something important without realising it, and Serena just stared at him, her eyes wide as she tried to understand it.

When they drove home to Flaxton Manor, he held her wrist in the back of the car as she tried to open the door, and his blue eyes watched her with a look of dark sexual power that made her shake.

‘Did you enjoy our evening?’ he asked softly.

‘Yes…’ Serena said, mouth quivering as she stared at the tough face. ‘Very much.’

His black lashes flickered on razor-sharp cheekbones. ‘Do me a favour,’ he said. ‘When I come to close this deal tomorrow, put on that creamy lace dress you were wearing yesterday.’

Serena was surprised. She had bought the lace dress from a second-hand shop last year for next to nothing. It fell in soft drapery over her slender curves, as elegant as it was clinging. ‘The lace dress…? But why?’

‘Just put it on,’ he said with a hard twist to his mouth, his eyes rueful. ‘As a little favour for me. I didn’t get to see it properly. You were standing at the window—remember?’

‘OK,’ Serena said, her voice husky, not understanding but feeling very excited by the way he looked at her, spoke to her.

He smiled slowly, released her wrist. ‘Tell your parents I’ll arrive at eight tomorrow morning. I have to fly back to New York in the afternoon. Either we sign tomorrow or forget it.’ His eyes watched her oddly. ‘Will you tell them that, Lady Serena?’

She nodded, and left the car, trembling as she walked in and found her anxious parents hovering in the hall, waiting for her.

Serena told them what Nick Colterne had said.

‘Sign tomorrow?’ Her father frowned. ‘That’s rushing things a little, isn’t it?’

‘What does it matter, dear?’ Her mother sighed, fingering her fake pearls. ‘We’re not in a position to be proud and he knows it. We need his money and his help. The faster we get it, the better. We’ll just catch the tail end of the summer tourist trade if we open quickly.’

So the next morning Nick Colterne came back with his henchmen, his Cadillac and his air of power. Heart thudding, Serena watched him arrive, hidden from view behind the Elizabethan window-frames.

She put on her cream lace dress, combed out her waist-length red hair and wondered why he wanted to see her in this. It was a very English design, the lace fragile, the cream silk below it skimming her womanly curves with elegance, ending in soft folds just below the knee.

Studying herself in the mirror, she thought of Nick Colterne and her green eyes darkened, her lips parting as she turned this way and that, suddenly feeling sensual, as though her skin was made of silk and her lips of velvet.

It was nine o’clock when she was called to the drawing-room.

Going in, she was surprised to find Nick Colterne alone. The sight of him made her heart thud with excitement, and she looked around for her parents with a frown.

Nick watched her intently, his ruthless eyes moving swiftly, restlessly over her body, stark sexual desire stamped on his tough face as he inspected her from head to foot.

He expelled his breath in an odd, hoarse, shaking way as he looked at her, and it made her quiver, staring through her lashes at his hard mouth.

‘Come in, Lady Serena,’ Nick said softly, a strange expression on his hard face. ‘And close the door. I want to talk to you.’

Obediently, she did as she was told, her hands damp suddenly as she fidgeted with the folds of the dress, looking up at Nick hotly through her lashes.

He walked towards her, and said deeply, ‘I don’t have much time. I want to sign this deal and get the wheels moving on it. But there’s an essential ingredient in the package that I don’t yet have.’

‘I don’t understand,’ she said huskily.

‘Yes, you do,’ he said thickly, watching her.

Her eyes darted up to his and a slow flush crept over her face.

Nick suddenly lifted his strong hands to her face, making her gasp, staring up at him as he said under his breath, ‘You’re the essential ingredient, Lady Serena. You. That’s why I’ve asked you here now. I’m prepared to invest millions in Flaxton Manor—but only on one condition.’ His blue eyes slipped to her mouth as he said, ‘That you agree to be my wife.’

Serena whitened with shock, saying, ‘You can’t be serious—’

‘Deadly serious,’ he said with a brief, cynical smile. ‘Now, what’s your answer? Will you marry me, yes or no?’

‘No!’ she burst out at once, taking a step back, shaking with disbelief. ‘You must be mad! Of course I won’t marry you! You’re much older than me and—’

‘I’m ten years older than you,’ he drawled, his face hardening with ruthless amusement ‘I’m thirty.’

‘Well, I couldn’t marry you even if you were younger!’ she said hoarsely, incredulous that he could even ask. ‘It’s just ridiculous!’

His mouth hardened, a stain of dark red colouring his face. ‘I don’t see that it’s ridiculous,’ he said harshly, stepping away from her, running a hand through his dark hair. ‘It makes good business sense to me.’

‘How can it?’

‘I want a wife who will give me an heir,’ he said flatly, lifting his dark head, every inch the ruthless financial shark as he studied her with hard, narrowed blue eyes. ‘But I’ve always wanted the best, and you’re it You’re young, beautiful, titled…you’re an heiress, an aristocrat and you’re a virgin.’

‘Oh…!’ Serena caught her breath, a hand to her mouth, appalled as hot colour flooded her cheeks, and she turned away, saying hoarsely, ‘Oh, my God…this is a nightmare!’

‘Nightmare!’ he bit out harshly behind her, striding up and catching her by the shoulder, whirling her angrily to face him, his blue eyes blazing. ‘I’m offering to save your family from bankruptcy and ruin!’

‘And ruining my life in the process!’ she cried hoarsely.

His mouth tightened angrily. ‘It’s too late now! I’ve had it written into the contracts and they’ve got to be signed today!’ He stared at her, then looked away, running a hand through his black hair. ‘God! It never occurred to me that you’d refuse to—’

‘Wait!’ Serena said shakily, running to him, catching his arm, staring up into his face, her green eyes luminous. ‘We’ll be ruined if those contracts aren’t signed.’

He looked at her sharply, his eyes narrowing, and there was a brief, tense silence. ‘Do you like me, Lady Serena?’ he asked softly, studying her face. ‘Or is it all my imagination?’

She looked at his mouth and whispered, ‘Yes…I do like you.’

His lashes flickered for a moment. Then he said flatly, ‘The contract will go through as written. We’ll marry in one month from now. Your parents will have all the money they need to save the manor.’

‘You talk as though it’s already settled…’ she said, horrified.

‘It is,’ he said bluntly. ‘All I need is your acceptance, and we can get the wheels in motion.’

‘And if I refuse?’

‘Then the deal is off,’ he said brutally.

Serena just stared at him, appalled. It was a gun to her head and they both knew it. If she refused to marry him, her family faced ruin. How could she possibly allow that to happen?

‘You’re blackmailing me!’ she whispered bitterly, hot tears in her eyes.

He grimaced, saying thickly, ‘I know. But I don’t have time to do anything else. Now what’s your answer, Lady Serena? Yes or no?’

Her hands twisted in despair. ‘You know very well that I can’t refuse!’

‘Yes,’ he said deeply, and walked towards her.

In her anger, she did not back away, instead staring at him bitterly as she felt her pulses race at his approach, hating him for the position he was putting her in.

‘I’ll make you happy,’ he said under his breath as his hands slid to her waist, and his eyes to her mouth. ‘I promise you that. You’ll have everything you need. Now, send your parents back in. They’re waiting for you in the library.’

Serena went with a thudding heart to find her parents. They were white with horror, and told her she didn’t have to marry him if she didn’t want to. They would face ruin, they said, for her sake. But of course Serena knew she couldn’t allow that to happen.

A month later, she was married to Nick Colteme and had flown to the Bahamas for her honeymoon.

He came to her bedroom that night. Serena was waiting for him, sitting up in bed, her face white as porcelain, determination in her green eyes.

Nick closed the bedroom door behind him, studying her across the darkness. He was wearing a dark red dressing-gown, naked beneath it, his bronzed chest bared and his long muscular thighs hair-roughened. The sight of him made her pulses leap, but she hated him for his ruthless acquisition of her and was determined not to let him make love to her.

The silence stretched tautly between them. Then Nick pushed away from the door, walking slowly across the darkened bedroom until he stood beside the bed, staring down at Serena, his eyes hot blue.

‘You’re lovely,’ he said abruptly, his voice hoarse.

Resentment flashed in her eyes. ‘I suppose I ought to be, considering how much money you paid to get me.’

‘Let’s not discuss money in the bedroom,’ he drawled, sinking down on to the bed, making her pulses leap with angry awareness as he reached for her. ‘It’s hardly good taste.’

‘And what is good taste?’ she demanded, backing away from him until her head was pressed hard against the expensive bedstead. ‘Buying a wife for her title and her inheritance?’

‘I said we wouldn’t discuss it,’ he said softly, and his hands reached for her, closing over her bare shoulders.

Rigid, Serena flung angrily, ‘Don’t touch me!’

His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re my wife. This is my wedding night. I have every right to touch you, and I damn well intend to. Now come here.’ He pulled her towards him.

‘No!’ Serena struggled, hands splayed on his warm bronzed chest, excitement flashing through her as she encountered the black hairs that curled on his chest, angrily aware that she felt desire for him, and despising herself for it.

The blue eyes blazed. ‘Yes!’ he said thickly, and then his mouth closed over hers.

With a startled moan, she felt her mouth open beneath his, the hot exploration of his kiss exciting her at once. But her mind overruled her desire for him. He didn’t love her. He only wanted an heir. That was all this was…business, not pleasure.

‘Oh, God, I think I’m going to be sick!’ Serena flung fiercely, dragging her mouth from his at once. ‘I can’t bear to have you anywhere near me!’

His eyes flashed angry blue. Pinning her to the bed, he kissed her deeply, ruthlessly, his mouth brutal over hers, and Serena was so furious that she felt something snap inside her, turning into a whirlwind, hands slapping and scratching at his face as he tried to capture her wrists and she screamed when he swore.

They fought in bitter silence. His eyes were blazing, his face dark red with anger. Then her fingernails raked his hard cheek, and his head jerked back.

Serena stared, breathing hard, as she saw blood on his cheek. Slowly, he lifted a strong hand, touched the cut, then stared at the blood on his long fingers.

‘I didn’t mean to do that,’ Serena said shakily. ‘But I had to. I won’t let you make love to me, Mr Colterne, marriage or no marriage. You’re a stranger to me. Not a husband. And you’ll never become my lover. Not unless you tie me down and rape me.’

He was suddenly very silent and very still, his harsh breathing the only sound in the darkened bedroom. His eyes glittered like blue fire. His anger was a tangible force, the tension crackling between them as he studied her, that long scratch on his cheek evidence of her determination, and the blood seemed to symbolise the catastrophic nature of their relationship.

Suddenly, he thrust her roughly from him. ‘Fine,’ he said tightly, getting to his feet. ‘I’ve never made love to a woman who didn’t want me and I don’t intend to start now.’

Relief and acute disappointment swamped her as she lay very still, staring up at him.

‘There have always been plenty of women ready to submit to me,’ he drawled cruelly, watching her with a hard smile. ‘There always will be. And I’ll enjoy making love to them, Serena, until you decide you want to join their number.’

She gasped in outraged disbelief. ‘Not until the day I die, you arrogant swine!’

‘Men who are successful with women are always arrogant,’ he said with a cold lift of his brows. ‘I’m no different. Why should I put up with rejection from a spoilt little girl when I could have a warm, willing woman to share my bed?’ He lifted his dark head, face very hard. ‘Think about it, Serena. Perhaps you’ll have changed your mind by morning.’

He turned, striding out of the bedroom without another word, and as the door slammed behind him Serena was already struggling with hot, bitter tears as she faced the reality of her marriage.

At breakfast the next morning, Nick was hostile to her.

‘Thought about what I said last night?’ he asked flatly as they sat tensely together on the sunlit patio overlooking the beach.

‘Yes,’ Serena said icily. ‘And my answer is a resounding no. I wouldn’t let you make love to me if you went down on your knees and begged me to!’

‘Most unlikely,’ he drawled tightly. ‘As I believe I made clear last night, where women are concerned, I’m never the one who has to beg.’

Hot colour flooded her angry face. ‘Oh, yes, I’m sure they’re all throwing themselves at your feet, Mr Colterne. You’re a very rich man and no doubt many women find you irresistible. I just don’t happen to be one of them.’

‘Then we’re at a stalemate.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘For the moment. But it’s not a stalemate I intend to live with forever, Serena. One clause in our marital contract was that you provide me with an heir.’

At that she paled, falling silent

Nick studied her, mouth a cool line. ‘Obviously, you’re too young to consider living up to your side of the deal just yet. But you won’t always be, Serena. Sooner or later, you’ve got to give me children, and we both know it’

She swallowed, her throat dry as ashes. ‘So you will inflict yourself on me? Whether I like it or not?’

‘Oh, you’ll like it,’ he said softly, and watched the angry glitter of her green eyes before drawling, ‘But we’ll discuss it at a later date. In a few years’ time. When you’ve grown up a bit. You’ll see things differently then. You’ll also have had time to live with frustration—’ a ruthless smile curved his mouth as he said under his breath ‘—and you’ll be very willing to end it.’

‘Don’t count on it!’ she said bitterly, hating him.

He laughed softly, then got to his feet, a frown on his brow. ‘In the meantime, though, we’re going to have to deal with our incompatibility.’

She watched him in silence, the warm breeze lifting her red-gold hair.

‘I’ll keep mistresses,’ Nick said coolly. ‘I will, of course, keep them away from you. You’ll never be humiliated publicly, you can rest assured of that. I have four homes—in New York, London, Hong Kong and this one here in Nassau.’ He lifted dark brows. ‘I’ll hire a private secretary for you. She’ll type out our schedules every month and we’ll exchange them. That way, we need never bump into one another unless we have to.’

‘Some marriage,’ she said thickly, hating him.

‘I married you for your title and your inheritance, Serena,’ he drawled sardonically. ‘I can get sex and female company elsewhere. I don’t actually need them from you.’

Bitterly, she surveyed him. ‘And we’ll discuss children later?’

‘Much later,’ he said coolly.

Staring at the sun on the sea across the white sands of Nassau, Serena felt a quiver of fear. ‘How much later?’

‘When I think you’re ready,’ he said flatly, and walked away off the patio without another word.

So they had slipped into the routine of their marriage. It had worked, too. Serena had found herself left to live her own life as she wished, with all the money she could have dreamed of at her disposal, while Nick went his own way.

Occasionally, they would meet up at Flaxton Manor, putting on a brave show for her parents, who were anxious that Serena be happy. So she and Nick laughed and kissed for their benefit, and then went their separate ways again. Sometimes they had to go to Boston to see Nick’s parents, and that was easier, because that Bostonian palace they lived in held no bitter memories for her.

Flaxton Manor had been opened to the public, become a successful tourist attraction, and over the following three years had gone from strength to strength, developing a garden centre in the grounds which her father doted on, and which had given him a new lease of life.

Now, however, Nick had suddenly appeared without warning and got into her bed, eliciting that swift, hot rush of pleasure and making Serena feel unaccountably afraid.

Lying in bed, staring at the lights of New York outside her window, she felt that fear grow deep inside her.

Was it true that his jet had been diverted? Was it true that this was an unplanned visit? Was it true that he would be leaving in the morning?

Or were his motives altogether—more sinister?

CHAPTER TWO

THE rattle of china woke Serena next morning. Lids flickering open sleepily, she frowned, wondering who it was. Then she remembered Nick and her body jack-knifed into a sitting position. Heart thudding, she sat there, acutely aware of every movement he made in the kitchen. Her eyes flashed to the clock. Nine a.m. What was he still doing here?

Getting up, she went into the bathroom, washed her face and cleaned her teeth, wondering whether or not she should join him for breakfast. If she didn’t, he might very well join her. A flush stained her cheeks at the memory of his kiss last night. She didn’t want a repetition of that. There was no option but to go and join him and find out what his plans were.

She had planned to dress, but she heard him moving about outside her door, so she quickly snatched up her black négligé and shouldered into it with jerky movements, her heart skipping as she buttoned up the front of it with shaky fingers.

Wrenching open the door, she saw him with newspapers in his hand, strolling lazily past her.

He stopped, dangerously tall and sexy in his dark red pyjama trousers and bare chest. ‘Morning,’ he said coolly, flicking his blue eyes over her. ‘I didn’t know you’d added the New York Artist to our delivery list.’

Her eyes darted to the papers he held. ‘I ordered it months ago…’

‘You’re paying for it yourself, too,’ he noted with a wry movement of his dark brows. ‘Out of your allowance. Or I would have noticed it on the bills.’

Stiffening, she said, ‘Is it a crime, Nick?’

‘No.’ The dark brows drew together in a frown. ‘Just secretive of you.’

‘Everyone has secrets,’ she said coolly.

He studied her for a moment, then walked away, his face unreadable. Serena watched him go, dry-mouthed. Damn! If she had known he was going to be here she would have telephoned the newsagents to cancel that order. She didn’t like Nick’s knowing anything about her life.

As she joined him in the kitchen she saw him lounging at the long pine table, drinking coffee and reading the New York Post. His bare chest was dangerously attractive, those broad shoulders tanned and powerfully muscled, black hair covering his chest to the long dark line at his navel.

‘Can’t you put something on?’ Serena asked tautly, averting her gaze. ‘You shouldn’t wander around like that!’

His blue eyes flicked to hers. ‘Why shouldn’t I? It’s my home.’

‘Yes, but I’m here,’ she said, folding her arms and hovering in the doorway at a distance from him.

He gave a cool laugh. ‘You’re my wife, Serena. You’ve seen my chest before!’

‘Not very often!’

‘That can easily be remedied,’ he said softly, blue eyes mocking her as they slid with insolent sexual appraisal over her slender body.

‘Very funny, Nick!’ she said tightly, green eyes flashing at him. ‘Now, please put something on, or I’ll have to eat breakfast in the living-room.’

There was a tense little silence. Nick studied her through narrowed eyes, then said softly, ‘You didn’t blush. Perhaps you are growing up, after all.’

Hot colour swept her cheeks immediately and she turned to walk away from the door, hating him for having made her so acutely aware of him, and making her feel a fool because of it.

The soft laughter that came from the kitchen made her grind her teeth with rage. She heard him walk coolly out, go into his bedroom, and get his dressing-gown.

‘There,’ he drawled lazily, presenting himself in his dark red dressing-gown, hands thrust deeply in the pockets. ‘Am I now fit for breakfasting with?’

Serena studied him through her gold lashes. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, recovering herself with dignity, and followed him into the kitchen, realising with a sudden shock that after three years of marriage her husband was almost a stranger to her.

And a very disturbing stranger, at that.

He sank down in his chair again, flicked open the Post, and began reading.

Serena studied his hard profile. A ruthless tycoon who had married her for her title and inheritance…why did he insist on keeping their marriage going when it was such a shell? Why did she? A sigh left her full mouth, and she cleared her throat.

‘When do you leave for Washington?’

‘Washington?’ he drawled, his American accent giving the capital city an air of glamour.

‘Yes,’ she said coolly, walking to the table and deliberately lowering his newspaper with one slim hand, meeting the sudden steely flick of his eyes. ‘Washington! You remember. You were on your way there last night!’

He studied her for a second. ‘You’re getting bold, Serena.’

She lifted her chin. ‘I don’t want you here, Nick. I made that plain last night.’

‘That’s not all you made plain,’ he said softly, mockingly, and let his eyes drift to her mouth. ‘That was quite a kiss you gave me in bed. I almost thought I’d got the wrong apartment.’

Hot colour swept over her face. ‘I was asleep!’ she said accusingly. ‘I didn’t know what was happening!’

‘Neither did I,’ he said lazily. ‘I expected you to start screaming as soon as I touched you and try to claw my eyes out. That’s your usual response to my touch, isn’t it?’ His eyes narrowed speculatively. ‘I wonder what made last night different’

‘I just told you,’ Serena said flatly, turning away to get a plate and cup from the cupboard, refusing to look at him any more in case he saw the flare of sudden arousal in her green eyes. ‘I was asleep and I didn’t know what was happening. I was having a dream, if you must know. That’s why I woke up so slowly…why it took so long for me to realise what you were doing.’

He smiled sardonically, drawling, ‘Nothing to do with me personally, then?’

‘No!’ she said angrily, sitting down and reaching for the coffee-pot. ‘You know perfectly well how I feel about you personally.’

‘Oh, yes,’ he said softly, mockingly. ‘I disgust you. Sure. It came across loud and clear last night!’

Her green eyes burned with angry accusation. ‘It must have done, or you would never have left me alone, Nick!’

His mouth curved in a cynical smile. ‘Well, maybe I have other plans for you,’ he said softly. ‘Later on in the day…’ He shook out the New York Post, cynical blue eyes flicking over the small newsprint again.

Serena ignored him, and buttered a slice of toast, but inside she was shaken. This argument was too personal. His kiss last night had been too personal. In fact—everything so far about this little ‘visit’ was too personal.

They had got through the last three years without ever having personal conversations. Normally, they were polite strangers with very little to say to each other. The arrangement worked very well. Why was Nick suddenly tampering with it? Flicking a series of switches and provoking personal confrontation…?

Because he’s got nothing better to do, she thought bitterly. He lived life at a whirlwind pace, blasting his way through obstacles, rarely stopping to think of the consequences of his actions on the people he blasted out of his way.

Odd that he should operate like that, given his family background. His parents were wealthy Bostonian bankers. Nick had been born into a world of American grace and privilege, and had not quite fitted in. His dynamic personality and quick, enquiring mind had stuck out like a sore thumb in that world.

But, although their strange marriage had given her brief glimpses into his past, she was aware that their conversations never turned to personal subjects.

Like sex, for instance, she thought with a prickle of unease.

Nick had opened this visit with sex, and the subject was still lingering between them like a crackle of electricity, making Serena distinctly nervous.

Shooting him an anxious look, she said huskily, ‘Nick, you are leaving this morning, aren’t you?’

He didn’t look at her. ‘I’ll be leaving just as soon as the jet’s ready. The pilot’s going to call me.’

‘Oh…’ She nodded, bit into her toast with small white teeth.

Serena wanted him out of the apartment as soon as possible. Tomorrow was a big day for her. She didn’t want Nick complicating it. His presence here today was unexpected and unwelcome, but at least it wouldn’t blow a hole in her private life. Whereas tomorrow…

Suddenly Nick got to his feet. ‘I’m going to take a shower and get dressed,’ he announced, throwing the newspaper on to the table. ‘If the pilot rings, take a message for me.’

He strode out of the room, leaving her burning with resentment. He treated her like his secretary. Well, not quite, she thought with a flash of anger towards him, because he was probably having an affair with his secretary.

Clearing the table, Serena put the dishes in the dishwasher. The luxury apartment block on Fifth Avenue was kept in perfect order by the people who ran it. There were no personal staff here, although all Nick’s other homes did have personal staff.

This was one of her favourite homes. Nick had excellent taste, and all his homes were furnished in a similar style with French antiques, pale green or cream and gold colours, and a general air of Bostonian elegance. It appealed to her sense of beauty, and was in keeping with her love of ‘old money’ as opposed to flashy new. Her own family background was not as luxurious or stylish as Nick’s, but she had often wished it were. The threadbare, faded beauty of Flaxton Manor had been charming, but hard to live with, particularly when springs leapt out of ancient sofas and cut one’s legs, or whole sections of roof caved in after rainfall.

Serena went to her bedroom and took a delicious shower. With wet hair, she wrapped a cream towelling robe around her slender body and padded into the bedroom.

It would be a good idea to hide her paintings from Nick in case he saw them. The last thing she wanted was for him to find out she was flourishing as an artist behind his back.

Going to her wardrobe, she opened it, then picked up the packing cases crammed with her numerous paintings, and lugged them into the wardrobe with a groan. The canvases were very heavy. She locked the door and went to her dressing-table to blow-dry her hair.

Later, she strolled into the living-room in a peacock-blue silk shift dress, her long red-gold hair in her usual style, falling seductively over one eye.

She looked at the telephone and frowned. It was ominously silent. Was Nick really diverted here unexpectedly? His fleet of air staff was usually so efficient. If there was something wrong with the jet…

Nick’s bedroom door burst open and he strode in. ‘I’m bored!’ he announced in that cool Bostonian voice, running a hand through his freshly washed black hair, devastatingly attractive in a blue-grey business suit, every inch the powerful, sexy tycoon. ‘I don’t want to sit around here all day waiting for a call! Let’s go out!’

‘Out?’ Serena repeated, staring.

‘Sure. Why not?’ He strode to the telephone and switched on the answering machine with long, quick fingers. ‘Do some shopping, have some lunch.’

Her lips parted. ‘But we never go out together…’

‘Don’t we?’ He straightened, face cynical. ‘I never noticed.’

‘You’re always too busy being Nick Colterne to notice,’ she said with a haughty flick of her lashes, then, ‘Anyway—what about the jet? If they call—’

‘They can leave a message like everybody else,’ he drawled, and ran his insolent blue eyes over her slender curves. ‘I like the dress. Very sexy. Needs some shoes, though. Go and put them on and let’s get out of here.’

Serena’s mouth tightened. ‘Don’t order me about, Nick!’

‘Why not?’ he drawled, a sardonic smile on his hard mouth.

‘Because I don’t like it!’ she snapped, hating him with a sudden fierce passion.

‘Well, isn’t that just too bad?’ he drawled softly, a mocking smile on his ruthless mouth as he studied her, challenging her to do what she suddenly realised she wanted to do: slap his cynical face and wipe that smile right off it.

Their eyes warred in a moment of hair-raising electricity. Then Serena tightened her lips and stormed into her bedroom, trembling with rage, to fling open her walk-in wardrobe and get her high heels, jamming them on her feet in a burst of uncharacteristic fury.

‘Don’t slam about, beautiful!’ Nick drawled from the doorway, leaning there, hands in trouser pockets, watching her with mockery, and she turned, eyes flashing wide with sudden fear in case he moved into the room and saw the tell-tale packing cases.

‘So sorry, Nick,’ she said sweetly, and closed the doors of the walk-in wardrobe. She locked the doors.

Nick watched with narrowed eyes. ‘Why are you locking the doors?’

‘Just a habit.’ She smiled at him, watching him through her gilt-tipped lashes.

His lashes flickered on razor-sharp cheekbones. ‘Not hiding your lover in there, I hope?’ he murmured, and suddenly the mockery was gone from his face, the ruthless cut-throat shark sending waves of excited fear through her.

‘We don’t all live like you, Nick,’ Serena said with cold contempt. ‘We don’t all indulge our carnal desires with impunity!’

He laughed softly, blue eyes insolent as they roved to her breasts. ‘Carnal desires? Now there’s an interesting phrase…’

That look took her breath away, made her veins pulse with sudden fierce heat, and she hated him for it, hated his stark sexual appetite and the ruthlessness with which he indulged it.

‘I thought we were going out!’ she snapped, furious to find she was almost trembling as his blue eyes moved lazily, cynically over her body, taking in the narrow waist and the sensual curve of her hips, so seductive in the peacock-blue silk shift dress.

He straightened, bored with toying with her. ‘Sure. Come on. Let’s hit Manhattan and buy a few stores.’

They went down in the luxurious lift. Nick was coolly indifferent to her, jingling change in his pockets, eyes narrowed in thought. Serena stood beside him, feeling superfluous, as she always did, and hating him.

New York was in the grip of this heat wave, and the sun blazed down on the city that was a living twentieth-century masterpiece of modern art, its jagged spires piercing a hot blue sky, its pavements moneyed and fast-paced. It was the Oxford of ambition.

‘Hi, Mr Colterne!’ The doorman saluted cheerily. ‘Lady Serena!’

‘Hi!’ Nick strode by him like a whirlwind. The chauffeur opened the limousine door. Nick got into the luxurious rear. All very fast, very smooth. Nick didn’t have to alter his stride once.

Serena slid in beside him. The door shut. Her green eyes surveyed his tough profile in the back of the limousine as he looked at his watch, the crisp white cuffs shooting back, the Rolex glittering on his hair-roughened wrist.

‘Eleven,’ he said flatly. ‘Take us to Faulke’s.’

The chauffeur pulled away with a smooth surge of power. Serena glanced out of the window. She adored New York. The pace, the cosmopolitan atmosphere, the stark steel skyscrapers and the elegance of the older establishments.

Nick prowled around Faulke’s, ordering things left, right and centre. Saleswomen followed him with admiration, fluttering their eyelashes while he cynically inspected their red mouths and slim bodies. Serena watched him operate, hatred in her eyes.

They had lunch at the Plaza. Heads turned as they walked in. Waiters swarmed all over them, and Nick dismissed them with a curt wave of his hand, striding across the restaurant with Serena behind him.

‘We haven’t done this in a long time,’ Nick observed as they sat at the elegant table drinking Château Lafite and waiting for their main course. ‘When did I last bump into you, anyway?’

‘Christmas,’ she said flatly. ‘At Flaxton Manor.’

‘That’s right. And it’s June now.’

‘How the months drift by,’ she said, disliking him intensely.

‘Do they drift by, Serena?’ he asked with a cool lift of dark brows. ‘Or are they beginning to speed up for you lately?’

She tensed, watching him with sudden wariness. ‘Speed up? Why should they speed up?’

A slow, sardonic smile touched his hard mouth. ‘Well, now, they might one day. You never know. After all—you can’t spend the rest of your life flying aimlessly around the world with nothing to do and no lover to make—’

‘I do wish you’d try to be polite!’ she said tightly, green eyes flashing as she cut into his insulting sentence midstream. ‘It’s bad enough having you here without warning, without having to put up with your bad manners too!’

His face tightened into a hard mask. ‘Don’t speak to me like that, Serena,’ he said, his blue eyes suddenly as ruthless as his steel-edged tone.

‘Or what?’ she challenged suddenly, although her blood pulsed in fierce, unexpected response to the look in his eyes, and her voice was unsteady, threaded with sudden desire to provoke.

‘Or I’ll take you home and take you to bed,’ he said under his breath, menace lacing his voice, his mouth very hard. ‘How’s that for a threat?’

She was breathless, her lips parted and her breathing erratic.

‘Good girl,’ he murmured, hard mouth curving with a cynical smile. ‘Now—tell me what you’ve been up to since Christmas at Flaxton Manor. I feel I ought to have some idea of my wife’s activities.’

‘As if you care!’ she said thickly, loathing him intensely. ‘You only married me for my title and my inheritance. I could die tomorrow and you wouldn’t care.’

‘Hardly,’ he drawled. ‘We don’t have any children yet, so nobody would inherit a damned thing.’

‘You know what I mean!’ she said angrily.

He laughed under his breath, watching her with steely eyes. ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to avoid answering any of my questions?’

That made her catch her breath and look at him closely, deeply aware of that ruthless mind and the speed at which it moved. Her heart was thumping unsteadily and she realised she was under threat of exposure if she didn’t tread very carefully indeed.

‘Ask anything you want,’ she said with a sudden, curving smile.

His dark lashes flickered. He was coolly amused. ‘A dutiful wife,’ he mocked.

Their main course arrived at that moment, ending the conversation, to her relief. Her sole was delicious, light and very fresh, served with crisp vegetables. Nick ate steak tartare, one of his favourite dishes, and typically Nick, all that blood and raw meat.

‘So what do you do in your spare time these days, Serena?’ Nick deftly swung that lethal weapon back on her as they drank coffee. ‘You have so much of it. You must do something.’

She gave him a sweet smile. ‘I have cocktail parties, see people for dinner.’

‘Ring-a-ding-ding!’ drawled Nick sarcastically.

‘I like being lazy,’ she said coolly. ‘We don’t all have to run around the world axing people to bits and making billions of dollars.’

‘I don’t axe people to bits,’ he said flatly. ‘And without my billions of dollars, your precious manor would have gone to the wall. Remember that, next time you start levelling criticism at me.’

‘How could I forget?’ Serena said tightly. ‘You bought me along with the manor, and ruined my life!’

He gave a dangerous smile, drawling, ‘Well, honey, you sure weren’t worth the price!’ and her face went white with appalled realisation of how painful their marriage could become if they ever spent too much time together.

Suddenly, Monique Dupré was advancing on their table, ravishing in flame-red, her bony face and even bonier body those of an ex-model, now moved on to become the art critic of one of the quality New York papers.

Serena stiffened with jealousy and dislike. Her eyes flashed back to Nick’s tough face. Monique was one of his mistresses. She didn’t know how many he had, but she knew she would hate every one of them as much as she hated Monique.

‘Nick, darling!’ Monique purred, sliding red-taloned fingers over his powerful shoulders. ‘I didn’t know you were in town.’

‘Surprise visit,’ drawled Nick, standing up, cynical eyes on her red mouth as he bent his dark head and kissed it.

Searing jealousy flooded Serena’s veins like acid. Bitterly, she looked the other way. What else could she do?

‘Lady Serena,’ Monique said politely, noticing her white, tense face. ‘Long time no see.’

Serena looked at her with angry dignity. ‘Hello, Monique. How’s the art world of Manhattan?’

‘I would have thought you’d know more about that than me,’ Monique said softly, her dark eyes watching Serena’s face as colour flooded into it.

‘What on earth makes you say that?’ Serena said at once, her tone icy, then looked at Nick. ‘We ought to be getting back. The pilot may have called. Or don’t you want to leave now?’

There was a brief silence. Nick studied her with narrowed eyes, then said briskly, ‘Sure. You’re right.’ He beckoned a waiter with one hand, and stroked Monique’s bony cheek with the other. ‘I’ll give you a call, Monique. Take care.’

The limousine took them back to Fifth Avenue and their apartment. Serena prayed there would be a message on the answering machine. The sooner Nick left, the better.

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