You can get swept away once again by this powerful, sizzling, bestselling story from Carole Mortimer.
Claiming his woman…
Shay is the raven-haired beauty the Falconer brothers called Gypsy. Irresistible to each brother, it was Lyon Falconer who claimed her—when he didn’t have the right... Yet it was Ricky, the youngest Falconer, who picked up the fragments of Shay’s shattered life and married her out of love.
But, with her husband’s death, destiny has hurled Shay back within Lyon’s reach. Now Lyon has a final chance to prove that Shay has always been—and would always be—his!
Other Harlequin Presents titles by Carole Mortimer available in ebook:
THE TAMING OF XANDER STERNE
(The Twin Tycoons)
THE REDEMPTION OF DARIUS STERNE
(The Twin Tycoons)
A D’ANGELO LIKE NO OTHER
(The Devilish D’Angelos)
A PRIZE BEYOND JEWELS
(The Devilish D’Angelos)
A BARGAIN WITH THE ENEMY
(The Devilish D’Angelos)
RUMORS ON THE RED CARPET
A TOUCH OF NOTORIETY
(Buenos Aires Nights)
A TASTE OF THE FORBIDDEN
(Buenos Aires Nights)
HIS REPUTATION PRECEDES HIM
(The Lyonedes Legacy)
DEFYING DRAKON
(The Lyonedes Legacy)
THE TALK OF HOLLYWOOD
SURRENDER TO THE PAST
TAMING THE LAST ST. CLAIRE
(The Scandalous St. Claires)
THE RELUCTANT DUKE
(The Scandalous St. Claires)
JORDAN ST. CLAIRE: DARK AND DANGEROUS
(The Scandalous St. Claires)
Gypsy
Carole Mortimer
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
‘SHAY.’
She didn’t turn at the sound of that voice, her gaze unwavering from the long wooden box being loaded on board the small jet in front of her, all that remained of her five years of marriage, the broken and twisted body of her husband Ricky being flown from America back to the Falconer estate for burial in the family plot.
‘Shay.’
She didn’t want to turn to the owner of that rich baritone voice, didn’t want him here at all, interrupting a moment that belonged completely to Ricky and herself.
‘For God’s sake, Shay!’
For God’s sake! She wanted to turn and shout at him that if it weren’t for God she wouldn’t be here now, that if it weren’t for God Ricky wouldn’t be still and lifeless inside that oblong box they were even now securing inside the plane, that he would be beside her as he had always been, the love they felt for each other their greatest happiness! But she didn’t turn and say any of those things, knew that if she once gave in to that hysteria she would lose the one thing that was keeping her in one piece; her belief that even though life could be cruel, none of them had any choices, it was all, ultimately, decided for them.
She finally turned as the doors closed on Ricky’s coffin, coolly facing the man she knew was responsible for dealing with the authorities and paperwork to get Ricky’s body out of the country they had made their home for the last three years, and back to their native England; she certainly hadn’t had anything to do with it, too numb to deal with details like that. No, she had known only Lyon Falconer could have managed such organisation in the few weeks it had been since they had found Ricky’s body, had known he was in California somewhere using the indomitable Falconer influence to take his brother home in the family jet. She also knew the two of them had nothing to say to each other, had informed her lawyer that she didn’t want to see Lyon when he had told her the other man was in the country.
Lyon Falconer. He hadn’t changed at all in the last three years, lean and muscular despite being very close to his fortieth birthday, his tawny hair styled just over his ears and down to his collar in a way designed to look casual, that very casualness indicative of its expensive cut. His arrogantly harsh face was lean and craggy, dominated by narrowed tawny eyes, his nose long and straight, his unsmiling mouth a forbidding line, the squareness of his jaw as uncompromising as ever. The tailored, dark three-piece suit and cream silk shirt pronounced him for exactly what he was, a successful businessman, although its formality in no way detracted from his lean muscularity, his power not just of the physical, a single-word command from him having been known to daunt even his most powerful of adversaries. And Shay knew she was far from being that.
But she wasn’t the unsophisticated Shay Flanagan from Dublin any longer, the young girl not good enough to become a member of his élite family. She had been a Falconer herself now for over five years, was this man’s sister-in-law, had gained in confidence almost beyond recognition since this man had first noticed her ebony head among his London personnel. At least, she hoped she had, feeling the first stirrings of inadequacy she had known in a long time, a very long time.
Not that any of that showed as she and Lyon faced each other across the tarmac, the black silk dress adding height and slenderness to the already five feet nine inches she was in the high-heeled sandals. The soft ebony of her shoulder-length hair was hidden beneath the silk hat, the lace pulled down to partly obscure her face, the purple depths of her eyes unadorned by anything but naturally long black lashes. There were classical lines to her face; high cheekbones, small pert noise, generously wide mouth, the latter feeling as if she hadn’t smiled in months. As indeed she hadn’t!
And she didn’t smile now, her gaze steady on that autocratic face. ‘Lyon,’ she greeted coldly.
‘Shay, you look—’
‘Like hell,’ she drawled mockingly, wanting no insincere compliments from this man. She looked exactly what she was, a recently widowed woman.
Lyon looked momentarily annoyed, the emotion quickly controlled and masked. ‘As usual, your presumption of what I was about to say was incorrect,’ he bit out harshly.
‘Really?’ she derided, turning to walk up the steps that led to the luxurious interior of the waiting jet, knowing the crew were merely waiting for them to come aboard before they obtained clearance to take off.
‘You’ve changed, Shay.’
She stiffened at the surprise in Lyon’s voice, had known he would follow her up into the plane, the door even now being secured behind them, only the hostess Jenny stopping them from being completely alone, something Shay knew she would avoid whenever she could. She and Lyon Falconer had nothing to say to each other, they never had.
‘I’m twenty-four now, Lyon, not eighteen,’ she dryly stated the obvious, taking her seat in the lounge area, smoothly crossing one knee over the other, her legs long and silky, turning gently to smile her thanks to Jenny as she brought her a glass of iced tea, not questioning how the other woman knew of her preference; the Falconer staff were paid, very handsomely, to know the needs of the Falconer family before they were even aware of them themselves. Shay turned away with indifference as the small blonde woman lingered over giving Lyon his neat whisky; obviously Lyon still had the power to attract women in their droves!
Tawny eyes flashed with specks of green as Lyon angrily sensed her derision. ‘I didn’t just mean physically,’ he ras
ped as Jenny disappeared into the galley.
She calmly reached up to remove her hat, placing it on the seat beside her, her neck long and slender, her hands equally so as she brailled the neatness of her severely-styled black hair. ‘I grew up, Lyon, if that’s what you mean,’ she drawled dismissively, turning to look out of the window as the small jet began to taxi towards the runway. ‘Marilyn isn’t with you?’ She arched perfectly curved brows at him, her slender hands, adorned only by her thin gold wedding band, folded neatly on top of her fastened seat-belt.
Lyon’s mouth tightened. ‘No, Marilyn isn’t with me,’ he bit out.
‘I just thought, she is the family lawyer …’
‘One of them,’ he confirmed gratingly.
‘And your wife,’ Shay added tauntingly.
‘Yes,’ he acknowledged abruptly. ‘But I’d really rather not discuss her right now.’
Navy eyes sharpened to purple. ‘As you wish,’ she nodded distantly. ‘You came alone, then?’
‘There was no reason for anyone to accompany me. Our lawyer in Los Angeles was able to deal with anything that had to be done.’
‘Of course, David Anders,’ she nodded again, having worked closely with the American lawyer herself the last two months, coming to the airport today as per his instructions, knowing he had managed to secure the release of Ricky’s body. She had hoped Lyon wouldn’t be sharing the flight with her, although she had known it was a futile hope; the haughty head of the Falconer family wouldn’t rest until his youngest brother was back in England where he felt he had always belonged, even if Ricky’s body were now lifeless.
‘He did a magnificent job,’ Lyon said curtly, his mouth grim.
‘Yes,’ she acknowledged, her face suddenly looking stricken.
Lyon was alert to the sudden change in her. ‘You still don’t like flying?’
‘I hate it,’ she answered pleasantly, sipping her tea, not showing now even by a tremor of her hand how her senses lurched at the acceleration of the jet engines as they prepared for take-off.
‘Perhaps it would have been better if you had remained in Los Angeles—’
‘And not come to England?’ Her eyes flashed her anger at the suggestion. ‘Ricky may have been your brother, Lyon,’ she said icily, ‘but he was my husband, and I want to be there when you have him put in the ground!’
Lyon winced noticeably. ‘The last two months of waiting have been a strain for you,’ he bit out. ‘This journey can only be causing you more pain.’
He didn’t know the half of the pain she had suffered in the past two months, she had made certain he wouldn’t know, had remained alone in California after Ricky’s plane had crashed in the mountains, all the time hoping that he had survived the crash, that by some miracle he had lived when the light plane he had been piloting had gone down during a freak thunderstorm in the mountains. It was the ‘somewhere’ that had caused all the pain, no one knowing exactly where the plane had gone down, Ricky and the plane remaining undetected until three weeks ago. Until that time she had lived with the hope, not sleeping, not eating, anxiously waiting for news from the people she had paid to continue searching for him after the authorities had given up. David Anders had informed her that Lyon had flown over briefly after the accident had been reported, that he had been convinced by the authorities that there was no way Ricky could have survived the crash in the area he had gone down. Shay had refused Lyon’s request to see her then, would have refused to be with him now if it were in her power to do so. But it wasn’t.
‘I can cope,’ she told him distantly.
‘I’m sure you can,’ Lyon nodded grimly. ‘God, Shay!’ He fumbled with the fastening of his seat-belt as her skin turned a sickly green as the plane parted with the ground, striding across the cabin to her side as the plane ascended dramatically.
She looked up at him with uncomprehending eyes. ‘You aren’t supposed to do that,’ she said dazedly as he came down on his haunches beside her, her hands looking pale and delicate as he took them into his warm, much larger ones.
‘Are you going to faint?’ he asked briskly.
Shay’s eyes widened at the suggestion. ‘No!’ she denied—and promptly did so!
She came round with a slow groan, turning over to bury her face in the pillow as she lay on the double bed in the converted bedroom off the lounge area, Lyon standing with his back towards her, staring out of the small window as they flew above the blanket of fluffy-white clouds.
She had wanted to remain so composed, had once sworn this man would never see any sign of weakness in her again. Collapsing in the way she had had definitely been weak! But she hadn’t cried when they told her Ricky’s plane had gone down, nor during the following two months, not even when they finally found him still seated in the crashed aircraft, his neck broken from the impact with the ground; surely she was entitled to one fainting fit? She just wished it hadn’t been Lyon who had been the one to witness it!
She swung her feet to the carpeted floor, her shoes neatly beside the bed, putting up a trembling hand to her mussed hair, smoothing it before Lyon turned suddenly, aware of her return to consciousness, his eyes narrowing as her head went back challengingly.
Shay could have no idea how vulnerable she looked, would have been dismayed if she had known, and Lyon was aware of that. Shay had grown up in the last six years, had grown more beautiful too, and he had to clench his hands at his sides to stop himself from reaching out for what had once so nearly been his. She had been his brother’s wife since then, he hadn’t seen her for three years, and yet he only had to think of her to ache with an unrequited desire, knew that he ached with that desire even now.
He could still remember the first time he had seen her, her long hair untamed, purple eyes alight with laughter as she giggled with some of the other typists before silence fell over the room as they realised the head of the company had walked in to their office with one of the directors. The other girls had quickly looked away and got on with their work, but purple eyes had remained on him curiously. Such open interest from one so young hadn’t been something he had experienced before. God, he had already been thirty-three then, past the age of instant attraction, especially with such a child. Or so he had thought …
‘I’m sorry,’ she was saying now, her composure back in place. ‘I’ve disliked flying even more since it was the way Ricky died.’
Lyon could feel the agony of jealousy over his young brother rip through him, hadn’t known a day go by without feeling that same jealousy since Ricky had announced his intention of making Shay his wife. Ricky may be dead now, but Lyon still couldn’t forgive his young brother for marrying the girl he—The girl he had wanted, damn it!
This beautifully elegant woman might not be that girl—but he still wanted her!
To Shay he looked as coldly remote as usual, none of the cauldron of emotions burning so hotly beneath that surface-cool exterior in evidence. He was a cold-hearted bastard, always had been and always would be. It was a pity he and Marilyn couldn’t make more of a success of their eleven-year marriage, there was no doubt they made the perfect couple!
‘I should have thought of that,’ he murmured abruptly. ‘This just seemed the quickest way …’
‘And after waiting all this time I’m sure you just wanted to get Ricky home so that you can bury him!’ She slid her slender feet into the black sandals before standing up, feeling at too much of a disadvantage sitting on the bed.
‘Shay!’ Lyon rasped.
‘Sorry,’ she drawled in a bored voice. ‘But you and Ricky were never close, I just assumed …’ She shrugged dismissively.
‘Too damned much,’ he scowled darkly. ‘The whole family has been deeply shocked by Ricky’s death.’
The ‘whole family’ consisted of two more brothers, Matthew and Neil, born between Lyon and Ricky, Lyon’s wife Marilyn, and numerous aunts and uncles—and all of them looking up to, and ultimately guided by, Lyon. He was the unchallenged head of the Falcone
r empire, each member of the family working for that empire. Even Ricky, despite his differences with Lyon, had run the American office, that distance between the two brothers allowing a certain respite from the bitter arguments they used to have when Shay and Ricky lived with the rest of the brothers in the mansion the Falconer brothers called home.
‘I’m sure they have,’ she said dryly. ‘Do you have the funeral arranged?’
His mouth tightened with irritation. ‘I called Matthew yesterday and asked him to make the necessary arrangements,’ he admitted grudgingly.
She nodded, as if she had never doubted he would have everything under control. There was only one thing he had never been able to control, and that had been his anger towards her. He had never been able to forgive her for marrying his younger brother and so becoming one of his prestigious family. No doubt, now that Ricky had finally been pronounced dead instead of merely missing, Lyon would see that she ceased being recognised as a member of his family. Only she didn’t intend letting him do that to her, had no intention of bowing gracefully out of their lives.
‘And Neil, how is he?’ she enquired coolly, finding Neil, at thirty-two, very like Ricky, with his blond good looks and easy-going charm, Matthew’s colouring slightly darker, and at thirty-five Ricky had told her he was becoming more like the eldest Falconer every day.
‘We aren’t here to exchange social pleasantries, Shay,’ Lyon told her impatiently.
‘I’m well aware of the reason we’re both here, Lyon,’ she rasped bitterly. ‘And if you would rather we spent the next nine hours in silence then I can assure you I’m more than agreeable.’
‘I’m sure you are,’ he said with barely controlled violence. ‘But it’s been three years since we saw each other, do you really have nothing better to talk about than Neil and Matthew?’
‘The weather?’ she scorned.
Tawny-coloured eyes became like burnished gold. ‘Hell, Shay, can’t we even be polite to each other now?’
‘Were we ever?’ she derided in a bored voice.
‘Once,’ he muttered, his gaze suddenly intense.
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