Midsummer Man

by Zelah Roberts

  She glimpsed a muscle throb in James’ jaw in her peripheral vision. Leonie winced. “Oh, no. Holly, I’m so sorry.”

  “Luckily, I got out before the marriage was consummated.” A thought occurred to her. “But, Thomas…you said you made a plan together? With mum? That’s not right. Mum said it would be an honour for me to marry him.”

  At the accusing anger in Holly’s voice, Tabitha’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, my darling girl. I’m so sorry. I had to say that. We couldn’t let anyone know we opposed the marriage. If anyone had suspected us, we’d have been watched like hawks, and we’d never have got you out. In our original plan, we hoped to escape with you, but as it was, there was no time. We just had to grab you and get you away. There was no opportunity to explain anything. And after you’d gone, Anton clamped down so much there was no way to get out.” She wiped tears away. “All these years, we’ve worried so much about you being out in the world, unprotected…and I was terrified that we might never get the chance to see you again to explain the truth—that we loved you and wanted to protect you.”

  Holly stared at her. “But you loved Anton! You were on his side—”

  Tabitha shook her head firmly. “No. I haven’t been on his side for many years. But I couldn’t show my opposition. You know what he did to anyone who disagreed with him. I was frightened he might take it out on you if I did. So, I pretended…”

  Holly felt sick. She had been so wrong about her mother. Far from being the simpering, devoted sap she had thought her, her mother had actually been secretly opposing Anton all these years, and had, in fact, risked her life twice—once to liberate her and again tonight to get everyone else out.

  Holly looked at her mother, finally seeing the strength and the courage of the woman before her. “Oh, mum,” she said, huskily, “I—”

  At that moment, James’ mobile buzzed. He picked it up, glanced at the screen and his face darkened. Clearing his throat, he said quietly, “Holly, I’m sorry to interrupt, but that was the police. They wanted to let us know that Anton died ten minutes ago.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mac eyed Holly warily. She was prowling round the hotel suite giving an excellent impression of a caged tiger.

  The party had broken up soon after James’ bombshell announcement. It had been one stress too many on top of an awful day. So now they were back upstairs, and it was evident that something—and there were so many things to choose from—had seriously upset Holly.

  With a vicious flick of her foot, she kicked off first one high heel then the other before stalking across to the huge panoramic glass sliding doors that framed a glorious view of the city.

  With a huff of annoyance, she slid them open and stepped out onto the balcony, into the cool night air and the sounds of the city.

  The lights glinted off her glowing chestnut hair, the shadows fell across her face and the whip-sharp tension she was holding in her slim body was apparent as she folded her arms.

  Something wrenched inside him at the sight. She was so self-sufficient, but he wanted the arms around her to be his, to ease her when she was suffering.

  Not that he thought she’d let him touch her at the moment. No, she was too stressed for that.

  But he needed to find a way to help her relax. Until he did, there was no way he was going to get her to tell him what exactly was wrong.

  He poured two brandies, switched off the lights so the room was bathed only in soft moonlit shadows and the glow of the city, and went out onto the balcony.

  “Beautiful night,” he said. It was. The stars were clear and bright in a crisp night sky and there was a full moon.

  She took an incautious swig of her drink and coughed. “Yeah.”

  She wasn’t even seeing it. Mac could see that all her attention was taken up by whatever was going on in that quick, clever brain of hers.

  “Want to talk about it?” he said mildly.

  She swung round to face him, her face hard and full of tension. “No,” she said, “I think I want to go to bed.”

  He rocked back on his heels. He hadn’t been expecting that. “All right, then,” he said.

  To his consternation, she threw back the rest of her brandy recklessly.

  “Holly—” he said uneasily, but she shook her head so hard that her beautiful hair fanned out in an arc around her. His body reacted. She was so beautiful.

  “No,” she said, “no words.” After grabbing him by the hand, she hauled him into the bedroom.

  She was like a force of nature then, divesting both of them of their clothes in record time before tumbling them both onto the bed. He’d thought he would be gentle with her, comfort her after the ravages of the day, but she wanted none of that. She was full of fire and fury, and he realised that he’d been wrong in his assessment of how she was feeling. She was not upset or distressed. She was angry.

  She was full of hell and brimming with rage, and he had a sudden sense that she was showing him, telling him, about feelings she couldn’t put into words.

  She savaged his mouth with hers and his control shattered. Raw passion burned inside him, and he kissed her, giving no quarter, holding nothing back. Her nails raked over his shoulders and the sting spurred him on. He ran his hands roughly down her body, feeling every gorgeous curve and precious valley, and swore to himself that he would protect her with his life for the rest of his days.

  She bit his neck, and lightning arced through him. With a roar, he wrapped his arms round her and rolled her on top of him. Without warning, she reared up and slammed herself down on him. Hell. He arched violently, grabbing her hips to hold her there.

  She clutched his shoulders. “I’m so damn furious,” she ground out, pounding down on him. Pleasure sank its fangs into him as her heat wrapped around him.

  She rose above him like an avenging angel. Her breasts were beautiful in the moonlight.

  “I’m so furious. All these years, I was frightened to love.”

  She slammed down again. He gasped—

  “Frightened that if I did, I would turn into a simpering, vulnerable, weak woman like my mother.”

  His body hardened into a pulsing throb. It almost hurt. Wait! What? She’d been frightened to love?

  “And all this time, it was a lie. She wasn’t like that at all. She was fighting!”

  He was fighting too, fighting for control. He needed to hold on. She was telling him things, telling him the truth. Was this why she’d been holding back from him?

  “I thought that love just left you open to betrayal, like she betrayed me.”

  Grief and love and sudden understanding rolled through him, even as his body screamed for release.

  “But she didn’t. She did love me.”

  She suddenly lifted off him, leaving him gasping for breath, his body reaching for release.

  Bending down, she kissed him passionately. He melted at the feel of her warm lips on his, the stroke of her long hair against his cheeks, his neck. She looked down into his eyes. “Well, no more,” she whispered roughly. “I’ll not let my childhood, not let Anton, wreck my life in any way ever again.”

  Holding onto his shoulders, she rolled onto her back, pulling him over her. He stiffened. She didn’t like it like that. For a moment, he resisted her, but she shook her head. “No,” she whispered, “I love you, Mac. I love you and I trust you. Make love to me like this.”

  His heart jumped. She loved him. She loved him, and she’d told him. Finally. Incandescent joy ran through him, swiftly doused by sudden, sharp anxiety. What she was asking was terrifying. What if he frightened her?

  “You’re sure?” he whispered hoarsely. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes. Yes, I do. We do. We have to defeat Anton.”

  He stared at her, seeing the need and the vulnerability in her eyes. The sight infuriated him. He’d sworn earlier that day to deal with Anton once and for all. He hadn’t imagined it would be like this.

  But he would do it. He would wipe Anto
n’s legacy of pain and fear away if it was the last thing he did.

  Tenderly, he stroked a stray strand of hair away from her face. “I love you, Princess,” he said deeply. “You’re safe. But we don’t have to win this fight today. If you need to stop, you tell me. Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  He kissed her then, telling her without words how much he loved her.

  He readied himself. Every instinct said he needed to do this quickly, before she had time to panic.

  He nudged against her. She gasped into his mouth and he took advantage of her involuntary reaction to deepen the kiss. At the same moment, he slid into her.

  He raised his head and saw her eyes dilate. He froze, fighting the irresistible urge to thrust. She felt so wonderful—

  Then she grabbed his shoulders, pulling him down for another kiss as she bucked her hips up to meet his.

  He just had time to groan out, “Don’t close your eyes,” before he was swept under, engulfed in a wave of wild pleasure so intense that it robbed him of the power to think, to speak, to do anything except feel.

  Beneath him she went crazy, not fighting him but fighting with him, surging up against him. He looked into her eyes, grabbing her gaze with his and holding it.

  The tide of pleasure rose, and sensations built. There was not a hint, not a single thought of Anton tainting their lovemaking. He laughed out loud, triumphant, full of joy, and she looked up at him. Understanding flashed across her face. She was laughing too, then everything grew too intense, laughing was forgotten, feelings swirled and coalesced, and suddenly they were there, together, spinning off into the sun.

  Afterwards, when he came to his senses, he pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair. “You all right, Holly?”

  She cuddled into him. “Oh, yes,” she said, sleepily, “perfect.”

  He watched as her eyelids fluttered shut and her breathing slowed, then he pressed fervent lips to her forehead. “Yes, sweetheart,” he whispered huskily, “yes. You really are.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  When she woke the next morning, he wasn’t there.

  She was disconcerted for a moment, then the door opened and he came in, looking surprised to see her awake.

  “Hi,” he said, kissing her gently. “I thought you’d be asleep. It’s not dawn yet.”

  “Why are you awake?”

  He smiled and shrugged. “Oh, you know,” he said, “places to go, people to see.”

  “In the middle of the night?”

  He grinned. “Not quite. Still, since you’re awake, do you fancy going for a walk? We could watch the sun rise.”

  She looked into his warm blue eyes and felt a surge of love. Last night she’d told him she loved him. She could hardly believe it. “Okay,” she said, sitting up, “fifteen minutes and you’re on!”

  To her surprise, there was a car waiting when they went downstairs. Mac bundled her in and they set off.

  “Where are we going?” she asked. The city streets were deserted, save for an occasional tram. “I thought we were going for a walk?”

  “We are. Patience, sweetheart.”

  Finally, the car stopped, and they got out. Mac dropped a mischievous kiss on her nose and took her hand.

  “Where are we?” she asked, looking around, mystified. Before her was a stone wall and a grassy slope.

  “You’ve never been here before?”

  “No.”

  He smiled. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  They walked up the slope as the sun rose. A soft breeze brushed through the grass. Birds sang in joyful profusion—chaffinches and warblers, sparrows and thrushes—the dawn chorus, celebrating the new day. The morning sun tinted the sky with pink and gold as they walked.

  Reaching the summit, Holly came to a sudden, startled halt. The whole of Edinburgh lay before her, beautiful in the early morning light. The castle, the steeples of churches, the ribbons of road and rows of houses stretched out to distant misty mountains.

  She turned in a full circle, taking in the city and the shimmering loch in the distance. Everything was rose-coloured, pink-washed, magical.

  She turned and found Mac watching her, a curiously intense expression on his face. “Mac, this is Arthur’s Seat! I’ve always wanted to come here!”

  He laughed. “It’s one of my favourite places. I thought you might like it.”

  “Oh, it’s beautiful…perfect.”

  She grinned as she suddenly realised that she would have to bring Drake and Isabella here. After everything, after Isabella had healed Drake, she would bring him here to this soul-restoring view…

  He touched her cheek with his warm fingers. “Last night, you said you were afraid to love, to become as vulnerable as you thought your mother was. Do you still feel that way?”

  She flushed, caught hold of the gentle hand against her cheek with her own. “No,” she said, softly. “Last night, I realised I can love and still be strong…still be myself.”

  He gave a crooked grin. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said. “I love who you really are.” He suddenly dropped to one knee on the soft grass. Holly’s heart stopped, then beat again in double-quick time.

  Reaching inside his jacket, he took out a ring box. Flipping it open, he revealed a beautiful ring, a ruby edged with sparkling diamonds.

  She gasped. “Oh! It’s beautiful!”

  “It was my mother’s. I got them to fly it up from the island this morning. If you don’t like it, we can get you something different—”

  “No! This one is lovely…special.”

  His eyes softened. “Like you,” he said. “Holly Mason, I know I don’t deserve you, but I do love you…always and forever, come what may. Sweetheart, I dare you… Will you marry me?”

  * * * *

  They were married a month later in the tiny stone chapel on the edge of Old Town Bay on St. Mary’s.

  It was a sparklingly sunny day. Sunlight glittered off the sea, seagulls wheeled and the air was fragrant with the scent of flowers.

  Holly was wearing a beautiful ivory silk wedding gown. She’d chosen it because it was gorgeous, and the faintly eighteenth-century styling reminded her of Isabella.

  She was feeling an enormous sense of satisfaction. She’d sworn to herself that she would finish the book before the wedding—and she’d just made it. Drake and Isabella were now married. In the future, their adventures would be as a couple. To her satisfaction, the character based on James was getting on very well with the one based on Leonie, too, and she rather thought that another marriage might be in the offing in the next book.

  It certainly was in real life. Leonie, who along with Melissa was acting as her bridesmaid, was now sporting a beautiful diamond engagement ring. The trip to London had been eventful in more ways than one. Now, she and James were inseparable and clearly bursting with happiness.

  Her father walked her down the aisle while her mother stood nearby, clutching a damp hanky. The couple were delighting in their newfound freedom. Mac had bought them a house on St. Mary’s. They had decided they wanted to be close to their daughter. And they had both found work—her mother as a cook and her father as a gardener. It was clear they were loving life on the beautiful island.

  But for now, there was just the quiet, ancient stone church with sunlight flooding through the stained-glass window, dappling the floor with colour. There was the scent of yellow roses, chosen to represent freedom. There was Mac, waiting at the altar for her, his face aglow with love and happiness. And as the organ finished playing, as Thomas gave her to Mac and as she placed her hand in his, she knew she that today was just the beginning and that whatever the future held, they would face it together, hand in hand…in love.

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  Anywhere and Always:

  Falling for the Tycoon

  Aurora Russell

  Excerpt

  The sky was a perfect unending blue, clear and b
rilliant, its beauty rivaled only by the magnificent expanse of bright aqua ocean and baby-powder-fine sand. It had always been Annelise’s dream to see the Caribbean, and she knew she should have been happy. Ecstatic. Wasn’t she still here, even if she was alone? But, instead, she just felt empty. Detached.

  She’d cried her tears. So many tears. For weeks. Wondering what had gone wrong to make Kyle decide to walk out on their life together, ending their wedding and honeymoon plans abruptly. Wondering what would come next. Looking at the space where his toothbrush used to sit next to the bathroom sink, looking at the empty space in the fridge where the special espresso he loved had always been kept, she’d felt a gnawing, painful ache in her chest, raw like a sucking wound. She’d sobbed into her pillow, worried she’d alarm the neighbors in the condo above. Her hot tears signaled the end of not just a seven-year-long relationship, but also of her dreams for the future. She’d cried so much she’d gone numb.

  She’d managed the chores of daily living—making food, getting dressed, going to work and to the store—but she’d felt like an imposter, like some zombie trapped inside the body of the vivacious, happy, hopeful woman she’d always been. She’d looked in the mirror and it had scared her. But still, nothing moved her anymore—not sadness, not anger, not understanding or judgment. Nothing. When the reminder from the travel agency had come through as an alert on her smartphone, the hot swell of anger had been as surprising as it had been fleeting. That spark was what had led her to do the crazy thing she’d done. Just to feel something, anything, she’d decided to take their honeymoon. Alone.

  Logically, the decision had been clear. She should go—two weeks in a remote section of the Yucatan Peninsula, staying at an exclusive hotel right on the beach. It was a two-hour-long ride in a Jeep on bumpy roads through the jungle to get to the collection of luxury cabanas, perched right at the edge of a wild natural preserve. Quite a journey, but it was supposed to be worth it. This was her dream trip, and it was almost entirely paid for already…and non-refundable. When they’d booked it, she hadn’t even had a nanosecond of concern about that portion of the terms and conditions. The idea that Kyle would have chosen not to go would have been laughable to her on that long-ago morning. After seven years of blissful love, she’d thought she’d known him inside and out. She had never been more wrong.