DEAR READER LETTER

By Sharon Kendrick

Dear Reader,

One hundred. Doesn’t matter how many times I say it, I still can’t believe that’s how many books I’ve written. It’s a fabulous feeling but more fabulous still is the news that Mills & Boon are issuing every single one of my backlist as digital titles. Wow. I can’t wait to share all my stories with you which are as vivid to me now as when I wrote them.

There’s BOUGHT FOR HER HUSBAND, with its outrageously macho Greek hero and A SCANDAL, A SECRET AND A BABY featuring a very sexy Tuscan. THE SHEIKH’S HEIR proved so popular with readers that it spent two weeks on the USA Today charts and…well, I could go on, but I’ll leave you to discover them for yourselves.

I remember the first line of my very first book: “So you’ve come to Australia looking for a husband?” Actually, the heroine had gone to Australia escape men, but guess what? She found a husband all the same! The man who inspired that book rang me up recently and when I told him I was beginning my 100th story and couldn’t decide what to write, he said, “Why don’t you go back to where it all started?”

So I did. And that’s how A ROYAL VOW OF CONVENIENCE was born. It opens in beautiful Queensland and moves to England and New York. It’s about a runaway princess and the enigmatic billionaire who is infuriated by her, yet who winds up rescuing her. But then, she goes and rescues him… Wouldn’t you know it?

I’ll end by saying how very grateful I am to have a career I love, and to thank each and every one of you who has supported me along the way. You really are very dear readers.

Love,

Sharon xxx

Mills & Boon are proud to present a thrilling digital collection of all Sharon Kendrick’s novels and novellas for us to celebrate the publication of her amazing and awesome 100th book! Sharon is known worldwide for her likeable, spirited heroines and her gorgeous, utterly masculine heroes.

SHARON KENDRICK once won a national writing competition, describing her ideal date: being flown to an exotic island by a gorgeous and powerful man. Little did she realise that she’d just wandered into her dream job! Today she writes for Mills & Boon, featuring her often stubborn but always to-die-for heroes and the women who bring them to their knees. She believes that the best books are those you never want to end. Just like life…

Untamed Lover

Sharon Kendrick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

Cover

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘I DON’T particularly want to talk about Liam,’ said Scarlett, forcing her voice to be cool only with a monumental effort. She pulled on a black silk stocking. ‘And certainly not on the night when I’m getting engaged to someone else.’

‘Don’t you?’ taunted Camilla softly. ‘But you were thinking about him just now, weren’t you? I could tell by the look on your face.’

Scarlett fixed a look of nonchalant bemusement onto her face; it was a familiar look and one which she had perfected—the bright mask she hid behind. Then she outstared Camilla—whom she’d known since they were three years old—just daring her to challenge her. ‘Thinking about Liam?’ she queried, even managing a throaty note of amusement. ‘Are you crazy?’

‘No, but you were. Crazy to—’

Scarlett had had enough. ‘Drop it, won’t you, Camilla? And do leave me in peace to get dressed—otherwise I’m going to be late for my own party.’

To her immense relief Camilla disappeared, and after she’d closed the door behind her Scarlett looked down at her hands, to discover that they were trembling. Could the very mention of his name still do that to her?

‘Damn Liam Rouse!’ she said huskily. ‘Damn him!’

She reached up and pulled her dress off the hanger. Outrageous, she thought as she stood in the clinging black basque looking at the brand-new gown. The perfect winter party dress—a long-sleeved, figure-hugging black velvet sheath, with a flirty and flouncy little overskirt in gold-spangled black tulle. The black echoed the darkness of her hair, and the gold of the spangles reflected the strange gold gleam of her eyes. Not her usual style at all.

She slithered into it and stood in front of the full-length mirror. I don’t look like me at all, she thought as she gazed back at the strangely glamorous and seductive creature. Even her hair looked completely different. Normally stubbornly straight, it usually spilled to just below her shoulders, but tonight it had been fashioned into great swirling waves by the village hairdresser. Beneath the heavy fringe the unusual clear amber, almost gold of her eyes glinted back at her.

I’d better go down and find Henry, she thought, when a movement from outside the uncurtained windows distracted her. Scarlett screwed her eyes up as she stared out into the blackness of the night at the sweeping grounds of Seymour House, her eyes lingering last on the massive oak, its bare branches heavy with snow. As she watched she thought she saw a shadow shift, and her heart accelerated with natural fear.

Was that a man standing there—as still and watchful as the tree itself?

Scarlett blinked and looked again, to see nothing but emptiness. There was no one there—of course there wasn’t! Who in their right mind would be standing under an oak tree on the coldest night of the year?

Remonstrating with herself for her jumpiness and her groundless fears, she left the bedroom and swept down the magnificent staircase to the entrance hall, where Henry, her fiancé, his already thinning caramel-coloured hair gleaming under the light from the chandelier, was just giving the butler his overcoat.

He looked up as she approached, and scratched the end of his nose as he often did in moments of—for him—extreme emotion.

I wish he wouldn’t do that with his nose, thought Scarlett, immediately feeling disloyal as she did so. She widened her lips in a smile. ‘Hello, Henry!’ she said brightly.

‘Good evening, Scarlett.’ He cleared his throat, as if he was about to make a speech. ‘I must say, my dear, that the gown you’re wearing looks very—fetching.’

‘It fetched an exorbitant price,’ remarked Scarlett. ‘I can tell you that much!’

Henry frowned. ‘Not exactly the most gracious way to receive a compliment, Scarlett.’

Scarlett sighed. ‘Sorry. It’s just that you don’t usually make them.’

‘Meaning that I should, I suppose?’

Meaning that she was surprised that Henry was going all romantic on her, when they both knew that romance did not figure very highly in their particular relationship. ‘No, of course not. Oh, Henry—don’t let’s quarrel. Especially not tonight.’

‘No.’ Henry stared down at her. ‘Speaking of which... Come with me,’ he said suddenly, and took her by the hand.

‘Why?’

‘You’ll see,’ he said mysteriously.

He didn’t say another word until he’d led her out onto the terrace, where the iridescent outline of an enormous moon tempted them with her promise.

Once there, he looked about, as though checking that the coast was clear, then he smiled as he put his hand in his pocket and drew out a small turquoise box, elaborately tied with a white ribbon.

Scarlett shivered.

‘Well? Aren’t you wondering what’s in here?’ he asked teasingly.

Scarlett played the game. She was good at playing games. ‘Tell me!’

Henry waggled a finger at her. ‘Patience! Patience!’ And he flipped the top off to reveal a mammoth diamond solitaire. It captured every ray of the moonlight and glittered there in all its cold, cold beauty.

As if she were observing it happening to someone else, Scarlett watched while Henry slipped the solitaire onto her left ring finger, but the ring was slightly too large, and the weighty stone slid underneath her finger, leaving just the plain gold band visible—like a wedding band...

Scarlett shivered again.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Henry easily. ‘I can have it altered first thing. I wanted it to be a surprise.’

‘It’s—absolutely beautiful,’ said Scarlett, slightly awestruck.

‘Why, thank you!’ And Henry pulled her into his arms and bent his head to kiss her.

It was just unfortunate that at precisely that moment Scarlett turned her head, certain that she’d heard a noise behind her, so that Henry missed her mouth completely and his kiss ended up on her left cheek.

He gave a self-conscious laugh, and planted a quick kiss on her mouth before drawing away. ‘Don’t worry, old girl,’ he said gruffly. ‘I won’t bother you too much about that sort of thing.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Messy, overrated business, in my opinion. Though, of course, we’ll have to think about producing an heir at some point.’

Scarlett stared at him, the full impact of his words hitting her like a dull blow. ‘That sort of thing.’ ‘Messy, overrated business.’ She swallowed. Sex with Henry. It was a subject she had found only too easy to ignore up until now. Because sex with anyone other than Liam was simply unimaginable. But after she and Henry were married...

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Henry quickly. ‘I told you—I shan’t be a demanding sort of husband. Now—why don’t we go inside, find ourselves a glass of champagne and start showing your ring off?’

Feeling slightly ill, Scarlett allowed him to lead her back inside, and the first person they saw was her stepfather.

‘Evening, Sir Humphrey!’ said Henry enthusiastically. ‘Just bought the lady a bauble!’

‘Let’s see!’ Sir Humphrey peered down at Scarlett’s ring. ‘Nice size, Henry! Good investment. Where d’you get it?’

‘Tiffany’s, actually.’ Henry beamed. ‘As you suggested, Sir Humphrey.’

‘Good choice!’ said Sir Humphrey, and pumped Henry’s hand approvingly.

‘Like it, Scarlett?’

‘Adore it!’ she answered lightly as she looked up at her stepfather.

How old he was looking tonight, she thought suddenly. How lined his face seemed. His business, she knew, was in trouble. Although nothing had been said to her directly, she’d heard faint whispers that his company was not doing as well as it could be. The cold fingers of the recession had touched the Seymours too.

Even Scarlett had noticed of late that the roof of Seymour House was in need of repair. It was easy to see where economies could be made—Sir Humphrey was paying out far more on staff than he needed to, for example. But then again, since gaining his knighthood he had developed a certain sense of noblesse oblige. There wasn’t any way that he would dream of getting rid of staff. After all, what would the neighbours say?

Not for the first time, Scarlett wondered why her stepfather was going to all the expense of having a huge engagement party followed by a lavish wedding. When she’d asked him his reply had been quite emphatic.

‘Got to do things properly, Scarlett,’ he’d answered briskly.

Scarlett had wanted to wait until things started picking up a bit—weddings were so expensive—but Sir Humphrey had been adamant that it should take place as soon as possible.

‘I want to see you happy and settled,’ he’d said, a nerve twitching in the side of his cheek.

And Scarlett had allowed her mother—who doted on Sir Humphrey and would have done anything to fall in with his wishes—to gently persuade her to go ahead with the wedding.

Scarlett fastened her social smile to her lips as the guests started arriving in earnest. Wraps and jackets were pulled off to reveal shimmering dresses in jewel-bright colours, complemented by the sombre formality of the men’s black dinner jackets. The aristocracy were at play, and soon the party was in full swing.

First there was a supper of fresh salmon. Raspberries and strawberries were served for pudding, along with big bowls of golden clotted cream, then cheese platters, dotted with exotic fruits.

There was to be no engagement cake, nor speeches—it was too close to the wedding for that—but the large dining-room was cleared for dancing, and as Henry took Scarlett into his arms to start the dancing the guests began to applaud. It was a slow number, and they drifted around the floor.

‘Everything seems to be going splendidly.’ He smiled contentedly as they moved in time to the music.

Her golden eyes sparked back. ‘Don’t speak too soon—I’ll probably step on your toes in a minute!’

‘Are you never serious?’ he laughed.

‘Never!’ She smiled back. She’d learnt her lesson about being serious. If you were serious about things you got your heart broken; if you were flippant—you survived.

He dropped his hands from her waist as the music came to an end. ‘Look—your father is beckoning me. I’d better go and see what it is he wants. Go and circulate, darling.’

Scarlett watched him go, feeling suddenly deflated as she looked around the room at all the glittering dancers, a lot of whom were strangers to her. I feel as if I’m on the outside looking in, she thought suddenly. As though I don’t belong here. The way I’ve always felt in this house. The child with its nose pressed up against the lighted shop window.

Oh, stop being so ridiculous, she remonstrated with herself silently as she left the room and slipped quietly out onto the terrace for a breath of fresh air. That champagne has just made me maudlin, she thought crossly as she took a deep breath and inhaled the sweet scent of the winter-flowering jasmine.

She stood, silent and spellbound, oblivious to the cold as she gazed at the beautiful vista before her. The snow-covered grass was glitteringly silver, and high up in the sky the moon looked like a brilliant white discus, hurled there by some Olympian athlete, and as she watched a cloud obscured it completely.

Scarlett’s eyes narrowed as they accustomed themselves to the dimmer light, and she blinked as she saw a man’s figure standing at one end of the terrace. He was staring at her.

She felt her heart pound in shock as she registered the immense height of him, the formidable breadth of his shoulders. She shook her head in horror, as if expecting him just to disappear. But he did not disappear. Instead he began to walk towards her with a confident and cat-like stealth.

Scarlett blanched as the man grew closer. Her eyes took in the beautifully sculpted planes and angles of his face, the harsh slash of his mouth and the proud line of his jaw.

He was taller than anyone else at the party, and his shoulders would have put deep despair into the heart of any rugby scrum. His hair was black, as black as Scarlett’s, and his eyes, which she knew so well were blue, also looked black tonight. And his heart, she thought bitterly. He has a black heart too. The beautiful mouth was curved and twisted into its customary derisory smile as his eyes met Scarlett’s—and never left them.

For a second she shook her head a little, as if she had manufactured the image of Liam Rouse. For surely this could not be Liam—this man whose formal black jacket would have knocked spots off everyone else’s in the room? Surely not Liam—in a silk shirt as white as a soap-powder commercial, with a black bow-tie knotted around his elegant neck? Liam’s long legs would surely never have allowed themselves to be encased in the beautifully cut black trousers. Liam wore jeans. Nothing but jeans.

She stared up at him as he towered over her, momentarily shocked into disbelieving speechlessness. She saw his eyes glittering, like some living metal, and she had to reach out to grasp the balustrade which ran round the terrace.

Her heart pounded with unwilling excitement, and her mouth dried. It simply wasn’t fair, she thought desperately. He shouldn’t, shouldn’t still have this effect on her. Not after all this time. ‘Liam!’ she gasped as the vision of the man she had not seen for almost ten years swam in front of her eyes. And then she found herself saying inanely, ‘Is it really you?’

He gave a small, cynical smile. ‘Judge for yourself,’ came the deeply drawled reply, and totally without warning he pulled her into his arms and bent his head to kiss her.

At first she was so shocked by what was happening that she simply stood motionless in his arms, while his mouth claimed hers with arrogant possession.

And Liam’s kisses were like no others...

Oh, no! she thought helplessly, but nonetheless swayed against him as his mouth drove down on hers, her body quivering with shock as she realised just how blatantly he was kissing her. For his kiss was as deep and as insistent and intimate as if he were lying naked on top of her and actually making love to her.

He pulled her closer, then even closer... And to her absolute horror Scarlett found herself responding to him, her body starting to tingle and melt into the hard, muscle-packed frame which she had once known so intimately.

He knew so well what pleased her, she thought helplessly. She felt him lick a tiny circle around the inside of her mouth, and as she felt her breasts swelling and hardening in response she realised just what was happening to her. She wrenched herself out of his embrace, and he gave a low, mocking laugh.

‘Well?’ he said arrogantly. ‘Was that real enough for you? Or do I kiss like a ghost?’

She fought to get her breath back. ‘You kiss like the devil that you are!’ she fired back. ‘Now, get off our land, before I have you thrown off!’

‘Oh, Scarlett,’ he said mockingly. ‘No wifely concern? No, ‘‘Darling, where have you been all these long years?’’’

Scarlett stared into the face of the stranger who was as familiar to her as breathing—the man who had broken her heart into a million tiny pieces. ‘I don’t care where you’ve been,’ she retorted angrily. ‘You walked off and left me ten years ago without a word. Well, that was fine. But you’re history, Liam. And now I’m going inside to call the police to get you off our property—unless you’d like to go now, and quietly?’

He gave a short, completely humourless laugh and reached out to catch her wrist in an uncompromising hold. ‘Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong,’ he contradicted her, his voice as hard and as unmalleable as steel. ‘I’m not going anywhere—not until I’ve got what I came for.’

She heard the unswerving determination in the deep voice, and a deep foreboding chilled her. Liam at twenty had been pretty formidable. Liam ten years on was something else!

In a minute she would wake up from this nightmare, but until she did she might as well enter into this crazy conversation. ‘What the hell are you talking about? What have you come for?’ But her voice wavered just a little as she asked the question.

His eyes fastened with deliberate intent on the crimson gleam of her quivering mouth, and she saw his eyes briefly darken. ‘Why, you, of course, Scarlett. Didn’t you realise? I’ve come for you.’

‘Are you mad?’ she whispered.

His mouth was a hard, unremitting slash in the moonlight. ‘Are you going to come with me quietly?’

‘I’m not coming anywhere with you!’

He gave her a look of quietly controlled rage. ‘Oh, I think so, Scarlett. A word with my wife. In private.’

‘You are mad!’ she responded in disbelief. ‘I’m getting married to someone else! The divorce papers are through!’

He shook his head. ‘On the contrary. You’ve jumped the gun a little, my dear. The divorce papers are not complete. Admittedly, the decree nisi is through—but the absolute isn’t due for another five weeks.’ He gave a cold and cynical smile. ‘So legally, at least, you are still my wife, and I have a proposition to put to you. Now, are you coming quietly or not?’ he repeated.

The craziness of the last few minutes crystallised into one incredible and jarring fact.

Liam was back!

She found her voice again. ‘Coming? With you? You must be kidding! The last person on earth I’d ever go with is you—you no-good, low-down, rotten—!’

Again, he gave that cool, faintly cynical smile.

‘Oh, Scarlett,’ he said, shaking his head at her as he caught her wrist in a vice-like grip. ‘I should have known that you’d be awkward.’

‘Let go of me!’ she ordered. ‘Or I’ll scream the place down.’

‘Oh, dear,’ he murmured, almost conversationally. ‘I was hoping that we might be able to do this in a civilised manner. But then, I’d forgotten that legendary temper of yours.’

She tried to struggle, but it was no good. Even using her one free hand to flail at that impossibly hard chest was useless, and he bent down to scoop her underneath her knees and toss her over his shoulder, her head dangling down his back and his hand clasped possessively over the bare flesh of the backs of her thighs which lay above the line of her stocking-tops. He stroked one thigh with a long, lazy finger.

‘Mmm!’ he murmured, in a voice soft with sexual promise. ‘Nice!’

And then something unbelievable happened.

For one fleeting and betraying moment a spark of dormant humour bubbled up from deep within her, and somehow that ability of his to make her smile was in its own way far more damaging than his ability to wring a physical response from her. He was certainly the most unconventional man she’d ever met in her life! And she was back in his arms! But she quelled the betraying spark immediately as she remembered just what he’d done.

Liam had left her at the lowest point in her life, and for that she would never forgive him. ‘I hate you,’ she muttered into his back as he walked towards the drive.

‘And the feeling,’ he said, in a strangely bitter voice, ‘is entirely mutual.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘PUT me down!’ Scarlett shrieked into the cold white night, but Liam completely ignored her and carried on calmly walking through the snow towards a low black car which was parked at the end of the driveway.

Surely someone would see them go? And think it odd that this towering dark man was carrying the hostess over his shoulder through the snow. Where the hell was Henry, or her stepfather? ‘Put me down, or I’ll scream!’

‘Scream and I’ll have to kiss you quiet!’ he threatened savagely.

And, because she didn’t trust herself to risk that, Scarlett hastily closed the mouth which she had opened to give him the full benefit of her loudest, most ear-piercing shriek, right next to his ear.

He reached the car and pulled open the driver’s door, only to lift her over onto the passenger seat and snap her seatbelt shut. Then, with an agility remarkable for such a tall man, he slid his long legs into the seat next to her, belted himself in and started up the powerful engine, which gave a low, throaty roar as the car shot off.

She pulled at the lock, but it wouldn’t budge.

‘We’re doing fifty, and that door is safety-primed not to open while the car is in motion, so you might as well sit back and enjoy the ride.’

This could not be happening to her. In a minute she would be back at the party, in Henry’s safe and undemanding arms.

‘Stop this car at once!’

‘No.’

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘You’ll see,’ came the implacable reply.

She knew that determined set of his mouth from old—knew that it signalled the inexorable side of his nature. And she sat back in a daze against the soft leather of the seat before her senses began to return, and with them her temper.

‘This is kidnap, you do realise that?’

‘Is it? A court might see it differently—a husband making a last-minute stab at reconciliation...’

Quite without warning her heart gave a sudden lurch as she remembered the nights she’d spent sobbing into her pillow, not really believing that he had walked out on her for good. Oh, the black, heartless devil! ‘But Liam,’ she said coldly, ‘you seem to have missed the whole point of the party which you gatecrashed. I’m going to be married in five weeks’ time. To Henry.’

‘Are you?’ he queried silkily.

‘Yes, I am!’ But Scarlett found herself shivering at his deep, dark voice—hating herself for the little frisson of awareness which traced sensuous fingers up the entire length of her spine. Just what was it about this particular man which sent her senses into overdrive? ‘Where are you taking me?’ she demanded again, hearing her own tame question with appalled disbelief. Why wasn’t she screaming the place down?

Because it wouldn’t do her any good; she knew that. He was too strong to resist. And not just physically either.

He didn’t answer, just gave her a brief sideways glance—in time to see the tremble that convulsed her upper body. ‘You’re cold,’ he remarked, and put out a strong brown hand to turn the heating up.

‘Of course I’m cold!’ she returned. ‘It’s the middle of winter, it’s snowing, and I’m wearing very thin clothes.’

‘And very little underwear, from what I saw,’ he grated. ‘You never used to wear such sexy little bits of nonsense when you were married to me! But then I don’t really remember you wearing much underwear at all. The problem we had, as I recall, was keeping it on.’

Scarlett’s mouth fell wide open as she turned to look at him in disbelieving shock. ‘What was that you said?’

‘You heard.’

‘You were spying on me!’ she realised in horror. ‘As I was standing in front of the window I knew that someone was out there, watching me. It was you!’

‘Who did you think it would be?’ he mocked. ‘Was the floor show for dear Henry? Hoping to inspire a little passion in him, were you, Scarlett? Let’s hope for your sake that he makes love more accurately than he kisses.’

‘Why, you—!’ Her hand went up automatically.

‘Don’t even think of it,’ his cold voice rang out. ‘I’m driving, remember?’

‘You couldn’t stop me if I wanted to!’ she taunted.

‘Couldn’t I?’ he said quietly. ‘I could stop this car right now and quieten you down very effectively, Scarlett—and I’m sure you don’t need to ask me how.’

Her hand fell to her lap, her cheeks flushed pink in the darkness. This was madness! Sheer madness. Liam was kidnapping her, for God’s sake, and she was just sitting back in her seat like a lemon and letting him!

‘You just can’t do this to me!’ she protested.

‘I just did.’

‘Haven’t you got any consideration for other people? My stepfather will be worried sick about me.’

‘He’ll survive,’ he said coldly.

‘He’ll call the police,’ she said, equally coldly.

‘I don’t doubt it.’

‘And you’ll be arrested. Slung into jail.’ She heard her voice rising sharply. ‘Though it probably won’t be the first time, will it, Liam?’

She saw the merest glimmer of amusement hover around a mouth that was far too delectable for its own good. ‘You think I’ve done time?’ he queried, almost casually.

‘Nothing would surprise me about you!’ she said, with feeling.

‘Well, that’s good, Scarlett,’ he drawled. ‘Never underestimate your opponent—that’s the first ground rule for battle.’

She felt sadness mixed with fury. They were battling now; they had battled then. Their whole brief relationship had been a war, punctuated with wild flurries of peace in the form of their ecstatic lovemaking. She hunted around for the coup de grâce to wound him. ‘Well, I’d like to know where you got the money to pay for this fancy car,’ she said insultingly.

She saw his knuckles tighten for an instant on the steering wheel, but there was nothing but sardonic amusement in his voice as he spoke. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, Scarlett, but your patronising Lady Bountiful act fails to impress me.’

‘It used to, though,’ she said bitterly. ‘I thought that my classy accent turned you on. I thought you liked hob-nobbing with the gentry—almost as much as I liked slumming it with you.’

The lie sounded convincing—even to her. Let him believe that her passion for him had been the youthful experimentation of a naïve young girl, which had quickly faded. Never let him know that he had been the love of her life, the man with whom she had constantly found herself comparing other men. And hadn’t the other men always come up lacking? Wasn’t that why she’d agreed to an eminently ‘suitable’ marriage to Henry—because she’d given up looking for love?

‘Slumming, huh?’ The deep voice was clinical, detached... The old Liam would have exploded with anger at the jibe, stopped whatever he was doing and taken her into his arms with a ruthless passion which would have had her denying anything he’d wanted her to deny.

But this Liam—this stranger in the suit—he merely reached out and pushed a cassette into the tape deck, and music filled the car.

Scarlett could have screamed as the violently passionate strains of the love-scene from Carmen pierced the air with frighteningly sweet sensuality. But short of actually putting her fingers in her ears, there wasn’t a lot she could do to blot the sound out. Instead, she stared fixedly ahead at the empty road. When had he learnt to like opera? she wondered with a sudden bitterness.

She realised with a sudden shock that she had never seen him drive before either. During their lamentably brief and ill-fated marriage they had been desperately short of money—and Liam had stubbornly refused to accept any hand-outs from her stepfather. Which was why they’d lived in the small, dingy flat over the café, where the smell of cabbage had drifted upwards and seemed to permeate even their clothes and their skin. And where Scarlett would play at being a housewife while Liam went out to his labouring job each morning.

She had to think clearly. Liam was back, but there was a limit to how far even he would go. What was he planning? And why, for goodness’ sake, was she just accepting this dramatic seizure, as though it was inevitable? As though, with him around, she had no conscious will of her own?

Drawing her shoulders back, she sat up straight in her seat and forced herself to take note of landmarks as the snow-clothed countryside flashed by. Her heart started hammering as she recognised the village as they drove quietly through it and circumnavigated the iced-over village pond.

The road out of it was narrow, winding. She closed her eyes quickly, not daring to open them again, although she knew exactly what she would see if she did. To her left she would see a dramatic line of horse-chestnuts, like scarecrows of the gods, waving their bare black arms against the heavy, snow-laden sky.

How could he have done? she wondered with helpless bitterness. To have brought her here...

‘Afraid to look, Scarlett?’ mocked the deep voice beside her, and she fluttered open her eyelids in defiance, still not believing it to be true. Her heart was sinking, yet at the same time it started to hammer with some shameful excitement as the car drew up in front of the small cottage.

As he turned the engine off she released her seatbelt and turned on him, her long nails instinctively forming cat-like talons which attempted to scrabble at his face. But he fended them off as a tiger would swat a butterfly, his big, strong hands closing decisively over hers.

There was a cold, cruel smile on his face as he watched her lips part automatically as their skin made contact. ‘Fight me all you like, Scarlett—but why don’t we get horizontal first?’ he said insultingly. But before she could retaliate he had unbuckled his seatbelt, stepped out of the car, had walked around to her side and was doing the same for her.

‘Take me home at once!’ she said flatly. ‘If you do that, and leave me alone, I’ll let the whole matter drop.’

‘Not even a little bit curious, Scarlett, to know what your dear husband has been doing for all these years?’

‘Not in the least.’ Her eyes deliberately swept down every inch of the superbly cut and outrageously expensive suit. ‘Something underhand, I shouldn’t doubt—judging from the money you’re obviously throwing around.’

‘You think so?’ he asked softly.

Hurt him, urged an inner voice. Hurt him badly, as he hurt you. She gave him a supercilious little smile. ‘How did you make your money, then, Liam?’ she said patronisingly. ‘Labouring?’

‘But I thought you liked all that kind of thing, sweetheart?’ he drawled. ‘Your bit of rough,’ he added with insulting emphasis.

She felt all the blood drain from her face. ‘Why, you arrogant blackguard!’ she gasped out. Her eyes hardened to match the coldness in his. ‘Take me home, Liam!’

Soft snowflakes were fluttering onto the jet hair which the light breeze ruffled as he shook his head. ‘Not yet. I want to talk to you,’ he said, with the kind of steely emphasis used by a man not used to taking no for an answer.

‘See my solicitor.’

‘What’s the matter, Scarlett?’ he mocked. ‘Afraid to go inside? Does the past repulse you so much?’

As he drew her attention to the cottage she gave him her haughtiest look, narrowing her eyes so that he would be unable to read any of the nostalgic pain in her eyes. Not here, anywhere but here, where her love for him had been born. It had been in there—in that cottage—that she’d given herself to him one summer afternoon.

On a dusty floor he had slowly bared her flesh, had kissed her and possessed her with such exquisite sweetness. She had cried afterwards, salty tears of grateful joy sliding into his shoulders and down his chest. But even as the shudders had died away in his own body she had felt his anger. As though he had already sensed the repercussions of that sweet, wild mating...

‘Quite frankly, I can hardly remember the place,’ she lied frostily. ‘But, as you know, my stepfather owns it. So, as well as abduction we can add trespassing to your charge-sheet.’

He gave a short, abrasive laugh. ‘I think not,’ he said arrogantly. ‘Come inside, Scarlett. I told you—we need to talk, and it’s too cold to stay out here.’

He pulled her out of the car, not roughly, but with that gentle strength which had always been at the heart of his lovemaking. And for one bizarre moment of insanity Scarlett had to steel herself not to sink into those powerful arms.

‘I’ll never forgive you for this!’ she said fervently as he guided her towards the door and unlocked it.

‘That is purely academic.’ The handsome face was impassive, as if he didn’t care one way or the other.

Scarlett walked in, and her mouth fell open in surprise. In her mind’s eye she had imagined that the cottage would look exactly the same—neglected and run-down, bare and dilapidated—but to her astonishment someone had done the place up. And had done it up beautifully too.

The floorboards had been properly waxed to a deep shine, and Persian rugs in vibrant hues of sapphire and turquoise silk were scattered around. The walls had been recently covered in a pale wash and hung with several superb watercolours. Soft and pale modern furniture provided the seating. Someone had put central heating in too. Whoever had decorated had exquisite taste, and it had nothing of her parents’ rather predictable penchant for old-fashioned polished mahogany.

‘Who owns this?’ asked Scarlett suddenly.

‘I do.’

‘I don’t believe you!’ But her denial was merely automatic; his words had held the unmistakable ring of truth.

‘That is, of course, your prerogative,’ he said coolly.

Scarlett was growing more confused by the moment. ‘But my stepfather would never sell it—certainly not to you!’

‘So sure?’ A kind of smile curved the corners of his lips upwards, though his blue eyes stayed as cold as the temperature outside, and something in the oddly confident look on his face filled her with a strange kind of dread. Of course her stepfather wouldn’t have sold him the cottage! Why on earth would he have had any dealings with a man he detested almost as much as she did?

‘Sit down, Scarlett, while I light the fire. Coffee? Or perhaps you’d prefer something stronger?’

This was crazy! Any minute now and they’d be discussing politics—and here, of all places! She needed to get out—before the past, with its shockingly poignant memories, started that aching in her heart all over again. ‘I want out, that’s what I want—back to my party! You said you wanted to talk, Liam—then start talking. I’ll give you five minutes.’

‘We need some heat first.’ And he crouched down to start the fire. Flames leapt up and licked realistically at logs, and suddenly the room looked deceptively and cloyingly homely. Scarlett sat down on one of the squashy leather sofas, feeling as though her whole world had tipped upside-down, her reality totally distorted as she watched him pour brandy into two glasses and put them both onto a small table which sat in front of the sofa.

She glanced at her watch. It was approaching eleven. ‘I can’t wait for my stepfather to get here,’ she said calmly.

‘But not Henry?’

Henry? Scarlett stared at the hands which were clasped in her lap, wondering why she’d made the Freudian omission of neglecting to use Henry’s name. She looked up, and her eyes burned a golden fire as she met his steady blue stare. ‘Henry will take you to pieces. You can’t just walk into my house and carry me off against my will—you bloody great brute!’

‘But I just did,’ he pointed out.

‘If you wanted to speak to me didn’t it occur to you to just pick the phone up, like anyone else would have done, and ask to meet me?’

He gave her a coldly mocking smile. ‘And would you have agreed to meet me?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Well, then—I rest my case.’ And he lifted his glass to her in mock toast. ‘What shall we drink to?’ he asked conversationally.

‘How about divorce?’

‘So cruel,’ he remonstrated mockingly. ‘And yet, really I am the injured party—wouldn’t you say? After all, I was the one you trapped into marriage in the first place, wasn’t I?’

‘I didn’t...’ But her words of denial died away. Because wasn’t he right, in a way? She had trapped him. She had wanted him, and had lured him with all calculation of the spoilt child she’d been at the time. But she had loved him, or so she’d thought. And oh, how she’d paid a hundredfold for her youthful desire for Liam Rouse.

She watched as he slid down onto the squashy sofa opposite hers, the long black-trousered legs spread out in front of him.

Lord, but he looked good, she thought reluctantly. Still the same firmly packed muscular body, without a scrap of fat on it. The same broad chest, narrow hips and long, powerful thighs. But there was a change in him too.

She had known Liam in the very first flush of manhood, his virility untempered by anything other than need. But now... Now there was an element of rigid self-control about him, a steely determination—it was easy to see in the unperturbed watchfulness on that harshly handsome face, and even easier to read in those cold, blue eyes which unsmilingly underwent her scrutiny.

She took a deep breath and looked at him steadily, wanting to know what had turned Liam from that untamed and beautiful lover into this urbane and sophisticated man who now sat before her.

‘Have you been in England all this time?’

His mouth twisted in a parody of a smile. ‘Why?’ he mocked softly. ‘Did you miss me?’

More than he would ever know. ‘I missed you like the proverbial hole in the head!’ she shot back archly.

‘But I bet you missed my body, Scarlett?’ he murmured with ruthless accuracy. ‘Mmm?’

To her horror, just the thought of his body in the context to which he was referring was enough to produce a reaction: that familiar tug which hardened her nipples to frustrated tips which just cried out for the suckling of his moist, ravening mouth; the warm pooling sensation which culminated in a hot, hot aching at the juncture of her thighs. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, feeling the scalding flush of shame and arousal stain her cheeks, and knew that her eyes had darkened in conjunction with his. And knew that he’d missed nothing.

‘Yes,’ he affirmed softly. ‘You missed my body like hell, Scarlett.’

Hell was appropriate enough—the smug, arrogant devil! She took a slug of brandy and managed a chilly stare. ‘How tedious you can be sometimes, Liam. Have you lost all the art of polite conversation?’ She gave him a mocking little smile. ‘Oh! How silly of me! I forgot, of course, that you didn’t really have the skill to begin with—’

‘Such condescension,’ he reprimanded. ‘Really, Scarlett—did no one ever tell you that’s a sign of low intelligence?’

And why was it she never seemed able to get the better of him in an argument? she thought furiously. ‘Go to hell!’ she snapped.

‘Succinct,’ he murmured. ‘Now, what were we talking about before you sank to playground level? You were, I believe, quizzing me about my life, weren’t you?’

She should stick her nose in the air and tell him that she wasn’t in the slightest bit interested in anything he’d done—so it was rather strange to find herself asking, ‘Where have you been all this time?’

He sipped his own drink and put the glass back down on the table. ‘First I went to Australia. Then the States. My main home is still in Australia.’

And now? she thought with a sinking heart. Even out of sight, Liam had never been entirely out of mind. Surely he wasn’t planning to re-enter her life? ‘So now you’re back for good?’ she said, voicing the fear.

‘That rather depends,’ he said obscurely, ‘on the outcome of our talk.’

Something in the way he said it alerted alarm bells in Scarlett’s head. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘You’d better tell me what this is all about, Liam.’

‘I told you. I have a proposition to put to you.’

Curiosity got the better of her. ‘What kind of proposition?’

He gave a distinctly wolfish smile. ‘I need a favour from you.’

She actually laughed aloud. ‘Well, if that doesn’t take the biscuit for arrogant, bare-faced cheek! You reappear after ten years and then try bargaining with me? You’re not in a position to negotiate.’

‘Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Scarlett,’ he said, in a tone of chilling assurance. ‘I always operate from a position of strength. It’s a lesson I learned very early on in life.’

Something about this new Liam made her feel uneasy. The years had redefined that ridiculously primitive masculinity he’d always exuded. Oh, it was still there, but tempered beneath the cool and worldly assurance he now carried with him. And, in a way, the impact was all the greater under its new guise. The hand of steel masked beneath the velvet glove...but just as hard and as impenetrable as ever...

He had been cold and unfeeling, she thought bitterly. He had walked away without giving her a second thought—well, she was damned if she’d let him back into her life on any terms!

She studied him, feigning impartiality. ‘Tell me what you’re asking,’ she said. ‘But I haven’t any money to give you,’ she added insultingly.

This brought a reaction. It was so fleeting that someone who had not made a hobby out of studying his harsh features might have missed it completely. But it was there, and Scarlett saw it. Rage, in about as undiluted a form as you could get it, burned like a blazing fire in those blue eyes. Rage, which somehow—sinisterly—managed to convey some kind of threat. And as she felt her heartbeat pick up she realised that it was a sexual threat, communicated silently to her traitorous and willing body.

Then it was gone. Instead, the eyes were narrowed, ill-concealed distaste replacing rage. ‘You think I need your money?’ he questioned softly. ‘That even if I did I would ever come crawling back to ask you? And I can imagine what you’d like in exchange for your money too.’ His eyes glittered with censure. ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Scarlett, but I played the role of stud just once in my life—and that was once too often.’

Scarlett stared at him in horrified disbelief. He couldn’t believe that—he just couldn’t! Surely he didn’t believe that it had just been the bed thing for her? He had been her entire world, her universe. For her, the sun had risen and set in Liam’s eyes. She shuddered at the memory before answering him.

‘While you may have the time or the inclination to sit around here discussing an episode of our lives best left forgotten—I do not.’ She stared at her wristwatch pointedly. ‘I have a party going on, guests waiting—so come on, out with it, Liam.’

There was the faintest upward pull at the corner of his mouth, and to her consternation she felt her cheeks flame at his silent acknowledgement of sexual innuendo.

‘Get on with it!’ She glared at him. ‘And tell me about your proposition.’

‘So delightfully put,’ he murmured, then crossed one long leg over the other. ‘Very well. We’ve tarried for long enough. You see, it’s not your money I need, Scarlett—it’s you.’

To her fury, her heart had resumed its excited little pitter-pattering. Some long-forgotten yearning deep within her flared into tentative life. She found herself swallowing. ‘What did you say?’ she whispered.

He smiled. ‘I want you to do me a little favour, Scarlett,’ he said softly.

The yearning crumbled into dust, but some glittering message which sparked at the depths of his eyes warned her not to simply ignore his statement. ‘What kind of favour?’

He smiled again. He looked invincible. ‘I have a big business merger going through. Contracts are about to be signed. All I need to do is put the icing on top of the cake, so to speak, so I’m holding a house party at one of my homes in Australia for my prospective business colleagues and their wives. I want everything to run like clockwork, and I need a hostess—someone who knows how to play the part to perfection—and who better than you, Scarlett?’ he finished mockingly.

CHAPTER THREE

SCARLETT stared at Liam as though he had just spouted horns and a tail. She shook her head from side to side in disbelief. ‘It’s a preposterous suggestion! Laughable! It doesn’t even deserve the dignity of an answer.’

He didn’t seem in the least bit perturbed by her negative response. ‘You won’t do it, then?’

She nearly choked on the last of the brandy she had been drinking to gain a bit of Dutch courage. ‘Of course I won’t do it! I don’t know how you’ve got the brass neck to even consider it! As if I’d endure even a minute more of your company than I have to—let alone take part in some farcical ‘‘house party’’ to impress your business cronies. And if I did meet any of them, I’d take great delight in telling them—’

‘How great I am in bed?’ he mocked softly, giving a deep laugh as he saw the colour which scorched over her pale skin.

‘That was completely unnecessary, and below the belt!’

He raised his eyebrows infinitesimally and gave a very sexy smirk. ‘I certainly hope so,’ he drawled.

Scarlett gave up. His sexual innuendo she couldn’t cope with—not when she was marooned out in the middle of nowhere with him. It was time to put her foot down—once and for all!

‘How many times do I have to tell you? Watch my lips, Liam! I am engaged to someone else! And, just in case that’s still not clear enough, watch my lips again! In five weeks’ time you and I will be divorced!’

‘So I take it the answer is no?’ came the mocking reply.

‘Have the last ten years done something to your powers of reasoning?’ she demanded. ‘Of course the answer’s no!’

He shook his head, as though mildly irritated, nothing more. ‘Oh, dear. And there was me hoping that we would be able to agree on this amicably.’

‘Which just goes to show how wrong you can be!’

‘Scarlett,’ he drawled, ‘I’m afraid that there isn’t really a pleasant way to say what I’m about to say—’

‘Then why bother?’ she cut in.

‘You’ll see. Do you have any knowledge of your stepfather’s affairs?’

She shot him a bewildered look. ‘What are you talking about?’ she demanded. ‘He’s always been completely faithful to my mother.’

‘Not those kinds of affairs,’ he chided. ‘Heavens, Scarlett—you always did have a one-track mind. I’m talking about his business affairs.’

What on earth did Liam know about Humphrey’s business affairs? ‘What about them?’

‘Your stepfather is teetering on the brink of bankruptcy,’ he stated baldly.

There was something about the flat, unequivocal statement that had the undeniable ring of truth about it. Scarlett tried to swamp the sudden fear which rose in her throat.

‘I don’t believe you,’ she said quietly.

There was a grim expression on his face which hardened the brilliant blue of his eyes into shards of glittering sapphire. ‘Believe it,’ he said flatly. ‘This cottage I now own—as I do the majority of your stepfather’s old estate.’

Scarlett’s heart started thudding loudly. ‘Liar,’ she whispered.

He ignored the interruption. ‘His business is in trouble and his house is mortgaged up to the hilt. And if the bank were to call in its loans, well...’ He gave a sardonic smile as he paused for dramatic emphasis.

‘And why should the bank want to do that?’ she asked steadily. ‘And what has all this got to do with you? And me?’

‘It has everything to do with you and me,’ he said, in the kind of hard, harsh voice which took her back years, to the twin emotions of sorrow and joy inextricably linked in her mind with Liam.

‘I own the controlling interest in the bank which has allowed Humphrey to remortgage his house and finance his business. I could call in his loans tomorrow. If you force me to.’

‘What are you saying?’ she whispered. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I’ve told you, Scarlett. I want you to play hostess for me. Do that—just that—and I’ll leave him alone.’

She looked at the hard-eyed man who sat before her, his face as unreadable as if he were playing poker. ‘You big bully!’ she cried. ‘He’s getting old—how can you possibly—?’

‘Shut up,’ he ground out, and she saw his pupils dilate as his temper finally snapped. ‘Don’t talk to me about bullying, or tactics! However misguided our brief marriage might have been there was no excuse for the way your stepfather behaved.’

Scarlett felt hot colour flare into her cheeks. She knew exactly what he was referring to. ‘If it’s about your mother, I made him promise to get her—’

‘You made him promise!’ he said bitterly. ‘What good could a mere slip of a girl do against a man whose reputation was paramount to him? Damn him and his reputation!’

The anger was suddenly replaced with a stealthy watchfulness, which was somehow even more intimidating than the fury which had preceded it. ‘Shall I tell you what your stepfather did, Scarlett?’ he queried softly. ‘Or do you already know?’

‘He said he had found her another job...’ Her voice died away as she read the contempt in his eyes.

‘He was lying. You knew that there was no other job for her, didn’t you?’ he said coldly.

‘And what was I supposed to do?’ she demanded. ‘Create one for her? At eighteen? Besides, I—’

‘Your pride was hurt because I’d left you? Yes? So my mother deserved everything she got?’

Maybe for an instant—but no more than that. ‘I always liked and respected your mother,’ she said.

‘Pity that Humphrey’s response wasn’t so measured,’ he grated sarcastically. ‘She’d done nothing but work hard for him, but not only did he sack her, he also refused to give her a reference.’

Scarlett felt a bitter pang of shame sweep over her. She didn’t know whether he saw it, but he suddenly sprang to his feet, his back to her, the set of his shoulders iron-hard and rigid, his body as tightly controlled as that of an automaton. And somehow she knew that he was breaking up inside—Liam, the man who so rarely showed emotion.

She wanted suddenly, quite instinctively, to go over to him, to take him in her arms with all the freedom to touch him which she’d had during their marriage. And she knew that he would probably lash out at her if she dared try.

‘What happened to her?’ she asked.

The voice was calm again. Calm, cool and matter-of-fact. ‘What usually happens to women without husbands in late middle-age who are forced to start over again? I gave her what money I could from the labouring you so despised. But she was forced to accept benefits from the State. It was that which galled her more than anything else—she was a proud woman,’ he said, almost to himself.

‘Eventually, she found herself another position, in another big house. Hard-working women of that calibre always do.’ His eyes were steely. ‘But it was never quite the same for her. She didn’t know anyone. She was getting too old to make new friends. And, of course, I had left home. She lost her enthusiasm for life. The ingredients for catastrophe were all there—a poor diet, economies made on heating bills... She died two years later of a heart condition.’

‘Oh, Liam—I’m so sorry,’ said Scarlett quietly.

He turned, then, blue eyes blazing like the devil’s. ‘Are you?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Are you really, Scarlett?’

She recoiled from the bitter fury and accusation in his voice, staring up at him in utter bewilderment. ‘For heaven’s sake, Liam—are you blaming me for your mother’s death? Is that what this is all about?’

‘I don’t know what I’m blaming you for!’ he ground out. ‘Maybe I’m blaming you for still wanting to do this—even after all this time.’

She gasped and swayed as he caught her in a brutal embrace, hauling her up from the sofa and into his arms like some stormy-eyed, marauding conqueror. And it was like the very first time he’d kissed her all over again to be desired with such dark, elemental passion.

His mouth burned as it caught hers, setting her aflame instantly. He kissed her with a fierce, demanding pressure, and he met no resistance, because for that moment she understood his need to punish her—welcomed it, almost—and she kissed him back with her own bitter reprimand, utterly discounting the fact that each was trying to inflict hurt on the other with this savage kiss, and the fact that instead all they were succeeding in doing was becoming embroiled in a hot, sexual battle which could have only one satisfactory conclusion.

He moved his mouth away from hers a fraction, to give him enough air to speak. ‘Yes, you little bitch,’ he whispered huskily. ‘You still have the power to make me desire you like this—even though I despise myself for doing it.’

Scarlett shuddered in his arms, but even his cruel words were not enough to break the bars of this enchanting prison. Instead, she allowed him to push his hips into hers, allowed herself to feel the tantalising length of him, swollen hard with the desire he so despised.

His hand moved down her back to her buttocks, tightly encased in the black velvet of her dress, and he splayed his fingers to cup her possessively against him, giving the humourless laugh of the unwilling victor as he did so.

‘Oh, yes, Scarlett. I want to rip that pretty little dress from your body,’ he said thickly, and the slurred, heavy undertones of pure desire set her trembling again. ‘I want to see you in your fancy stockings and suspenders. Me, only me—do you understand that, Scarlett? For my eyes only. And then I want to take them off, as slowly as you like.

‘I want to see all that soft white flesh again. I want to bury my head in your breasts, to suckle you until you weep. I want to lie naked on top of you, inside you. I want to lose myself deep within you. Is that what you want? Do you want that too, my little temptress, Scarlett?’

Like an unwilling intruder she heard her treacherous little voice make a gasping little sound of assent. There was only this. Only them. How right it felt to be wrapped in Liam’s strong embrace again, to feel the hunger building up between them. Only this man could turn her into some frantic, wild, sensual being. Only Liam. Henry had never once...

As her fiancé’s name crept into her thoughts it was like being doused with ice-cold water. Her eyes snapped open as she prepared to see the passion written all over Liam’s face, but she was too late. He had felt her mental withdrawal instantly. The blue eyes had hooded over; his stare was nothing but cool and thoughtful. Only the darkness of his mouth gave evidence of what had just happened, the bruised fullness of his bottom lip a glaring testimony to the intensity of their shared kisses.

Scarlett was shamefully aware of the singing of the blood in her throbbing and swollen breasts. She saw his eyes flicker there briefly, saw the flare of predatory satisfaction light the blue eyes. And she knew that any stumbling protestations about that kiss would rightfully earn her nothing but his scorn and derision. Because you could have stopped him, taunted the voice of her conscience. And what is more you should have stopped him.

But could she have? Surely to have tried to stop something which had briefly filled her with the most delicious longing would have been about as futile as King Canute trying to hold back the tide?

What could she do other than pretend nothing had happened?

She stared at him quite calmly, her body now almost back to normal. ‘You aren’t serious about me coming to Australia, are you, Liam? Not really?’

‘Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. I am. Deadly serious.’

She swallowed. ‘And the deal is that if I refuse you will call in my stepfather’s loans?’

‘You’ve got it in one.’

‘You bastard,’ she said softly. ‘And what do I tell Henry?’

He shrugged. ‘No need to tell him anything too explicit,’ he mocked, his eyes sparkling as they moved deliberately to her swollen breasts, and the temptation to slap his face was almost overwhelming. But violence would only add to this sizzling cauldron of emotions.

‘You’ll think of something, Scarlett. An enterprising young woman like you. Write him a note telling him you’ll be away for a fortnight at most. Imply that you’re shopping for your trousseau. Hint that there’s going to be something very

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