‘And don’t even think about giving me the ring back—because if you won’t wear it then I have no use for it!’ he growled before ringing off abruptly.
Two telephone calls. Neither of them making sense. And it wasn’t even seven o’clock in the morning yet!
Ross had mentioned a ring too. An emerald and diamond ring? An engagement ring?
There had been a gold heart-shaped necklace in amongst the chocolates, could there possibly have been a ring in one of the other gifts?
Certainly not in with the nightgown, because she had taken that out of the box twice, once to look at it herself, the second time to indignantly show Ross. But if there had been an engagement ring in one of the previous gifts, that snowy white silk nightgown also took on another meaning…
The excitement began to build up inside Tazzy as she hurried down the stairs, the gifts once more on the kitchen table where she had placed them haphazardly after picking them up from the floor the evening before; she hadn’t wanted Shadow to eat the chocolates during the night and make herself sick.
The teddy bear!
Ross had advised her not to throw away the teddy bear before opening up the Cellophane and looking inside…
Nestled behind the red heart with the words ‘I love you’ sewn onto it that the bear held between its paws was a green ring box…
Tazzy’s hands shook as she opened up the lid, giving an audible gasp as she stared down at the ring presented in green velvet, a large emerald surrounded by six diamonds…
An engagement ring?
Sylvia Valentine had certainly seemed to think so. And Ross had implied as much too when he’d spoken to her a short time ago.
But he hadn’t asked her to marry him, only to—
No! The ring had been delivered before the nightgown, had arrived at four o’clock with the teddy bear, and Ross had arrived at seven forty-five hoping for a positive answer to what was meant to be a romantic marriage proposal. And instead she had thrown him out of the house, assuring him that he had read all the signals wrong if he had thought she would look favourably on any proposal he cared to make to her!
Oh, Ross…
Tazzy looked down once again at the beautiful emerald and diamond ring, tears blurring her vision. Ross might not have proposed yesterday, but he had done everything else he possibly could to show her he loved her: the dozens of red roses, the chocolates and necklace, the love-o-gram, the bear holding this beautiful ring, the white silk nightgown, which she was now sure he had meant as a gift for their wedding night. And all those lovely, lovely messages accompanying the gifts.
Ross loved her!
Not only that, he wanted to marry her!
All she had to do now, she realized, was go to him and tell him there had been a terrible mistake. All! What she really had to do was go to Ross and tell him she had behaved like an idiot, that she had completely misjudged him, and the type of proposal he’d been making.
And hope he would forgive her.
* * *
Mrs Brown was busy making scones when Tazzy let herself in by the back door two hours later. ‘Mr Valentine said you wouldn’t be in today,’ she commented.
‘Mr Valentine doesn’t know everything,’ Tazzy assured the other woman lightly. ‘Is he in his office?’
The older woman nodded. ‘Been there all night by the looks of him.’ She frowned, totally disapproving of the way Ross sometimes became so engrossed in what he was doing that he worked twenty-four hours without a break.
But Tazzy hoped Ross’s lack of rest meant he had no more been able to sleep last night than she had.
She had dressed carefully for this meeting, wearing a fitted green dress the same colour as her eyes—eyes the same colour as the emerald ring Ross had bought for her! She had washed her hair, brushing it loosely onto her shoulders in the style Ross had said he liked, applying make-up to hide the shadows under her eyes, blusher to hide the paleness of her cheeks. She only hoped Ross wouldn’t throw her out before she had chance to say what she wanted to!
Ross was sitting behind his desk when Tazzy quietly let herself into the room, but he wasn’t even pretending to work, his feet up on the desk as he lounged back in his chair, his eyes closed.
But those eyes opened as he sensed her presence in the room, taking his feet off the desk to straighten in his chair, his expression wary as he saw the teddy bear Tazzy carried.
His gaze flickered back to her face. ‘I thought I told you I didn’t want any of those things back,’ he rasped defensively.
Tazzy’s heart ached for the lines of weariness beside his eyes and mouth, the slight growth of beard on his face clear indication that he hadn’t shaved yet this morning; in fact, he was still wearing the snowy white shirt and black trousers from last night, the dinner jacket draped over the back of his chair.
Tazzy took the green ring box from behind the heart in the bear’s paw, holding it out to Ross. ‘This is for you,’ she told him huskily.
He made no move to take the box from her. ‘I don’t want it.’ He scowled.
He sounded so much like a disgruntled little boy that Tazzy couldn’t help giving a rueful smile. ‘You haven’t seen what it is yet,’ she reasoned gently.
His mouth tightened. ‘Of course I’ve seen it—I chose it!’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’
Ross’s eyes narrowed. ‘You think I would let someone else choose what was supposed to be your engagement ring?’ he growled.
Her heart gave a leap at these words, her resolve deepening as she placed the box in front of him on the desk. ‘I wish you would open it,’ she encouraged firmly.
He gave an impatient sigh. ‘I told you—’ He broke off as he opened the lid to the box, staring down at the ring inside. ‘This isn’t your ring…’ He looked up at her and frowned.
‘No,’ she acknowledged lovingly. ‘It’s yours.’
His frown deepened. ‘But—’
‘I’m wearing mine. See?’ She held up her left hand, the ring nestling on her third finger. ‘That’s your ring.’ She nodded towards the open box on his desk. ‘From me to you. If you’ll wear it,’ she added uncertainly.
It had taken her two hours to arrive here after Ross’s telephone call, because she’d had to wait for the jewellery shop to open so that she could purchase the ring that now nestled in the box; a wide gold band with their names beautifully engraved on the inside.
She looked at Ross, once again unsure now that she was actually with him. What if she was wrong? What if—?
Ross stood up abruptly, moving quickly round the desk to sweep her into his arms. ‘I have no idea what is going on,’ he told her ruefully. ‘But if that ring means you’re asking me to marry you, then the answer is yes!’ He groaned before his head lowered, his mouth taking fierce possession of hers before she could gasp a reply.
Did that ring mean she was asking Ross to marry her? She supposed that it did. But what did it matter who did the proposing, as long as Ross continued to kiss her like this?
Which he did, kissing her so passionately that Tazzy’s head was spinning wildly when he released her some time later.
‘How I love you, Anastasia Mabel Darling!’ he murmured emotionally, his forehead resting against hers as he looked down at her with those warm sherry-coloured eyes, his arms possessive about the slenderness of her waist.
‘I love you too,’ she told him achingly. ‘And I’m so sorry I misunderstood what was happening yesterday—You knew all the time that my middle name was Mabel!’ She pouted in realization.
He nodded. ‘Did I ever tell you that my grandmother, my father’s mother, was called Mabel?’
‘No.’ She laughed softly, so full of love for this man she felt as if she would burst.
‘Well, she was. She was also my most favourite person in the world,’ he added huskily. ‘Until eighteen months ago, when a certain Anastasia Mabel Darling walked into my life!’
Her eyes widened. ‘Eighteen months ago�
�?’
‘Ridiculous, isn’t it?’ Ross acknowledged self-derisively. ‘I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. I was just too blind to know it at the time. It took your non-appearance at my parents’ anniversary party to show me just how utterly blind I’ve been all this time.’ He shook his head. ‘I spent the whole evening moping about as I imagined your “previous engagement” was with some other man!’
Tazzy gave him a quizzical look. ‘There was no previous engagement and no other man. I just didn’t want to spend the whole evening looking at you with some other woman! You see, I’ve been in love with you for the last eighteen months too,’ she admitted shyly.
‘Oh, Tazzy!’ His arms tightened about her almost painfully as he buried his face in her silken hair. ‘The time we’ve wasted!’ He shook his head in selfdisgust. ‘I would probably have carried on pining away for you if my mother hadn’t told me not to be so stupid, that if I loved you I should tell you so and stop wasting time!’
Tazzy felt her previous liking for Sylvia Valentine deepen into a much stronger affection; it wasn’t every mother who would encourage her only son in his love for another woman.
‘I’m really sorry about her telephone call this morning,’ he added. ‘Please don’t think it was a family conspiracy or anything like that.’ He frowned. ‘It was just that—before they went away I told my mother—in my infinite wisdom!—that I intended asking you to marry me on Valentine’s Day. I don’t think it ever occurred to her that you might say no!’
Probably because Sylvia Valentine, with the wisdom of her own years, had already been able to see that Tazzy was in love with her son…
‘So you decided it was a good idea to bombard me with gifts and love messages on Valentine’s Day?’ She smiled indulgently.
Ross grimaced. ‘I thought I had completely blown it yesterday. What an idiot I was to think you would be impressed with those things!’
‘Not an idiot at all.’ Tazzy put silencing fingertips against his lips. ‘The roses, the chocolates, the necklace…’ she touched the delicate gold chain she had fastened about her neck before leaving the house earlier ‘…even the love-o-gram—’
‘That damned love-o-gram,’ he groaned. ‘I tried to stop it, could see that I had already gone too far with the gold necklace, that you were becoming angry now rather than intrigued, as I had wanted you to be. So I excused myself before we went out so that I could quickly telephone the agency. They said they would try to contact the man and stop him before he reached the restaurant. The phone call in the restaurant was to tell me they hadn’t been successful,’ he remembered with a wince.
Tazzy chuckled softly. ‘Ross, I would have been overjoyed if I had guessed that any of those gifts came from you, even the love-o-gram—’
‘I didn’t write it, you know,’ he put in hastily. ‘Merely told them your name and colouring, they said they would do the rest! Hearing that man singing about the beauty of your breasts—! I almost punched him!’ he acknowledged grimly. ‘As for Peter—! Despite what I might have said, I had actually booked that table for us two weeks ago. Something Peter was only too aware of.’ He scowled slightly at the memory. ‘He certainly made me pay for the privilege when he flirted so openly with you!’
He had been jealous of the other man. ‘There’s never been anyone else for me but you,’ she assured him as she reached up to kiss him lingeringly on the lips, at the same time revelling in the freedom to do so. ‘There never will be,’ she added sincerely.
His arms tightened possessively. ‘You really mean that, don’t you.’ It was a statement, not a question. ‘That’s what I meant yesterday when I said I valued your old-fashioned code of morality,’ he told her huskily. ‘You seemed to think I was criticizing you in some way, but I wasn’t. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, want you with me for the rest of your life, and I know with certainty that if you ever make that sort of commitment to me that it will be for life. I won’t settle for anything less!’
‘I won’t offer you anything less,’ Tazzy responded softly.
Ross moved back slightly. ‘Tazzy, darling, will you marry me?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she replied unhesitantly, her eyes glowing with love as she looked up at him. ‘After all,’ she added huskily, ‘I already have the nightgown for our wedding night!’
‘How I love you, Tazzy!’ Ross bent to tenderly kiss her lips. ‘I love everything about you, your honesty, your loyalty—’
‘You make me sound like the family pet,’ Tazzy protested laughingly.
‘No.’ He shook his head firmly. ‘Please believe me when I say I just love being with you. Every moment of every day,’ he said gruffly. ‘Besides, we already have a pet in Shadow,’ he teased. ‘It’s the family that may need a little working on!’
Her family and Ross’s. She could imagine nothing more wonderful.
What a truly miraculous day Valentine’s Day was…
* * * * *
Now, read on for a tantalizing excerpt of Dani Collins next book,
CINDERELLA’S ROYAL SEDUCTION
Sopi gives herself one chance to feel like a princess in Rhys’s arms. She knows it cannot go further, until the Prince stuns her with his convenient proposal! Dare she believe he wants her for more than desire?
Read on for a glimpse of
CINDERELLA’S ROYAL SEDUCTION
PROLOGUE
JUST ONCE, CASSIOPEIA BRODEUR wished she could be given enough time to sit and think before having to react to whatever catastrophe her stepmother, Maude, had set in motion.
SHE REALLY WISHED that when she’d been fifteen and thinking she was welcoming her stepsisters into her family, she hadn’t told them her friends called her Sopi.
“Soapy?” Nanette and Fernanda spoke English as their fourth language, but they’d heard the pun and laughed hysterically.
Seven years later, all of Sopi’s childhood friends, including the ones who’d given her the nickname when they’d been in grade school, had moved on to university and world travel, interesting jobs and serious relationships and cities.
While Sopi was still here in Lonely Lake, scrubbing up after her spoiled stepfamily and the guests of the hotel and spa that bore her name.
Why couldn’t Maude and the girls shove off back to Europe and quit destroying what was left of her life? They certainly made no effort to hide their disdain for this “backwater village” in the remote wilderness of the Canadian Rockies.
Oh, right, they had run through all of Sopi’s father’s money and had nowhere left to turn. Yet they seemed determined to drive this place into ruin, too.
“All the reservations?” Sopi repeated with disbelief. “You canceled all of March?”
“Yes.”
“On purpose?”
“Sopi.” Maude used her most hideously patronizing tone. “We can’t have families with children running around when we’re entertaining royalty, can we? And we’ll need the rooms.”
“Royalty?” Sopi asked with a choke of hysterical laughter. “Is that a figure of speech?” The odd aging pop star turned up—emphasis on odd—but real celebrities with real money went to Banff or Whistler for their spring skiing.
“Rhys Charlemaine is the prince of Verina.”
“Never heard of him,” Sopi said flatly, even though it rang a distant bell. She barely had time to keep up with weather reports and the latest safety regulations, though. She didn’t follow gossip on fading royalty.
“Honestly, Sopi. Your lack of education.” Maude shook her coiffed silver head in despair.
Was she referring to the education that hadn’t been paid for because instead Sopi’s father’s money had been used to keep Nanette and Fernanda in boarding school in Switzerland? The girls’ absence had turned out to be a blessing, so Sopi didn’t complain much about it, but honestly.
“Why on earth would a prince come here?” Sopi asked.
“Because I’ve arranged a week of heli-skiing for him.”
Wi
th what money?
Sopi wanted to scream or maybe cry. She glanced longingly beyond the windows where February skies were an intense blue over blinding white slopes across the valley. Last season, she’d skied once on the small commercial hill on the far side of the lake. This year she hadn’t had a single opportunity—too busy trying to keep the spa afloat.
“And as for the accommodation,” Maude continued absently, “the girls will move from the penthouse so he can use it, but they’ll stay on the top floor. His entourage will take the rest of the rooms there.”
“His entourage? Please tell me this isn’t all complimentary.” Sopi knew it would be and felt sick. Sick. Maude never let her peek at the books, but Sopi wasn’t blind or stupid. She knew they were in the red and bleeding more every day.
“Of course we won’t charge him.” Maude’s scoffing tone chided her as Silly Sopi. “This is exceedingly good exposure for us. Everyone will want to come here, especially while he’s in residence. I’ve arranged a decent chef. That’s long overdue.” Her pointed look blamed Sopi for not having made that happen sooner, and Sopi couldn’t even imagine what it was going to cost. “You’ll need to hire more staff for the treatments.”
“Maude.” Sopi tried one more time, even though this argument had never made an impact. “There is no one to hire.”
The occasional adventurous cosmetician or massage therapist joined them for a season, but the isolation of Lonely Lake wasn’t for everyone. Plus, Maude and her daughters were a special kind of hell to work for. Their incessant demands and tantrums over inconveniences like having to wait for deliveries of a desired shade of nail polish impacted the spa’s ability to retain qualified employees.
“You always make things harder than they are,” Maude sighed. “People will beg to work for gratuities if you tell them who will be staying here.”
The spa’s bread-and-butter clientele were retirees soaking their arthritis in the hot mineral pools at an affordable price. Sopi couldn’t deny that a high-profile guest would fill rooms, but, “Seniors on fixed incomes aren’t known for their generous tips. If this prince and his cronies—”
His Darling Valentine Page 8