Never Gamble With a Caffarelli

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Remy didn’t like admitting it but deep down he was starting to feel a little envious of how happy his brothers were. How settled; secure; anchored. His life of flying in and flying out of cities and relationships had always seemed so exciting and satisfying up until now.

  He shook off the thought like the snow he’d just brushed off his shoulders. ‘Be that as it may, you have to admit she’s great to look at. What more could a man ask for than a stunningly beautiful wife who loves him?’

  ‘She’s stunning but she’s Henri Marchand’s daughter. Do you really want to mix your blood with the likes of him?’

  What was his grandfather’s obsession about babies? It was making Remy distinctly uneasy. ‘We’re leaving the breeding to Rafe and Raoul. Angelique wants to keep her figure.’

  Vittorio grunted. ‘She won’t stay with you. You mark my words. Next thing you know, she’ll slap divorce papers on you and take half your assets. You’re a fool to enter a marriage without a pre-nuptial agreement. I thought you had more sense than your brothers. Seems I was wrong.’

  It did worry Remy about the lack of a pre-nup but he wasn’t going to dwell on it while he had other more pressing matters to deal with. Besides, Angelique had her own reasons for wanting the marriage to continue. The bridal-wear gig was huge. He’d already seen hundreds of tweets about it. It was amusingly ironic to think of her modelling the one type of outfit she loathed more than any other.

  ‘How’s that new housemaid working out?’ Remy asked.

  ‘She’s got a face like a monkey.’

  Remy rolled his eyes. Some things never changed. ‘I might pop over in a couple of weeks to see you once I’ve sorted out a few business issues. I’ll bring Angelique with me.’

  Vittorio gave another cynical grunt. ‘That’s if she’s still with you by then.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ANGELIQUE CAME DOWN to the large sitting room where Remy was stoking a roaring fire. Warmth was spreading throughout the house now the heating was on but the sound of the flames crackling and spitting in the fireplace reminded her of cosy times with her grandparents when she was young.

  The removals company had obviously come and taken away her father’s personal belongings, leaving just the original furniture. Without Henri’s things here it was like stepping back in time to a happier period in her life.

  But it still annoyed her that Remy had possession of her family home and was so determined to keep it. It was all very well sleeping with him and fancying herself in love with him, but at the end of the day she had to get her home back.

  Her goal was to get the deeds to Tarrantloch back where they belonged. Nothing else was supposed to distract her from that.

  Not Remy with his smouldering looks, spine-loosening smile, his magical touch and mind-blowing love-making. She could indulge in an affair with him for the period of their marriage but it had to end with her achieving her mission.

  Tarrantloch was meant to be hers and she would not be satisfied until she had it back in her possession.

  Remy stood up and glanced at her over his shoulder. ‘Warming up?’

  ‘You certainly move fast.’ Angelique walked further into the room. ‘You’ve had every trace of my father’s occupation of the place removed.’

  He kicked a piece of charcoal back into the fire with the side of his shoe before he looked at her again. ‘That’s normally what a new owner does, is it not?’

  Angelique set her jaw. Did he have to rub it in every chance he got? ‘What do you plan to do with it?’

  ‘I want to base myself here.’ He dusted off his hands from having placed another log on the fire. ‘It’s private and far enough away from a major city to put off the paparazzi.’

  She frowned at him. ‘But you’re a big city man. You spend most of your time in casinos and clubs. You’d be bored out of your mind up here in the highlands with nothing but the wind and the rain and the snow for company.’

  ‘I don’t know about that...’ He nudged absently at the fire with the poker. ‘Rafe’s been raving about the mansion he bought in Oxfordshire—the one that Poppy’s grandmother used to work in when she was growing up.’ He put the poker back in its holder and faced her again. ‘He originally planned to turn it into a luxury hotel for the rich and famous but now he’s living there with Poppy. It’s home to them now, it’s where they plan to bring up a family.’

  ‘That’s all very well and good, but you’re not a family man,’ Angelique pointed out. ‘You’re going to get lonely up here unless you regularly fly in some party girls to while away the long winter nights.’

  He shrugged a shoulder and kicked at another piece of charcoal that had fallen out of the fire. ‘It may surprise you, but I don’t spend all of my time partying and gambling. That’s one of the reasons I love Dharbiri so much. It’s so different from the life I live in the city.’

  ‘It’s certainly different.’ Her tone was wry. ‘It’s not a place I’m going to forget in a hurry.’

  He met her gaze across the glow of the firelight. ‘Apart from the sand and the heat it’s much the same as here. It has a bleak sort of raw beauty about it. You can hear the silence.’

  She gave him a knowing look. ‘It might be isolated and a little bleak up here but no one’s going to come barging in threatening to flay you alive if you have an unchaperoned woman in your room.’

  He acknowledged that with little incline of his head. ‘Perhaps not, but I bet there are quaint old ways and customs up here in the highlands and on some of the west coast islands.’

  ‘I still don’t think you’ll last a winter up here.’ Angelique sat down on the sofa and curled her legs underneath her body. ‘It can get snowbound for weeks and the wind can bore ice-pick holes in your chest. And don’t get me started about the rain in summer. It goes on for weeks at a time. Quite frankly, I don’t even know why they bother calling it summer. It should be called the wet season, like in the tropics.’ She flicked her hair back behind her shoulders. ‘Oh, and did I mention the midges and mosquitoes? They’re as big as Clydesdales.’

  He crossed one ankle over the other as he leaned against the mantelpiece, a lazy smile curving his lips. ‘If it’s as bad as you say then why do you love it up here so much?’

  She looked at the flickering flames before she answered. ‘I spent some of the happiest days of my life up here when I was a child.’

  ‘You came here with your parents?’

  ‘My mother,’ Angelique said. ‘It was her parents’, my grandparents’, home. My father never used to come because he was always too busy with work. I think the truth was he didn’t get on with my grandparents. They didn’t like him. I was too young to remember specific conversations but I got the impression they thought he was two-faced.’ She looked back at the fire again. ‘They were right. Everything changed when my nanna died. The grief hit my mother hard and then my granddad died less than a year later. It was devastating for my mother. That’s when things started to get a little crazy at home.’

  Remy was frowning when she looked at him again. ‘That’s when she became depressed?’

  Angelique nodded. ‘She must have felt so lonely once her parents were gone. She was shy and lacked confidence, which was probably why my father was attracted to her in the first place. He saw her as someone he could control.’

  Remy’s frown was more of anger than anything. ‘I wish I’d flattened him when I had the chance. What a cowardly son of a bitch.’

  ‘You hurt him far more by taking Tarrantloch off him,’ Angelique said. ‘And of course by marrying me. That really stung. He won’t get over that in a hurry.’

  His expression turned rueful. ‘Yes, well, my grandfather isn’t too happy about it either.’

  ‘You’ve spoken to him?’

  ‘He called when I was bringing in the bags. And it wasn’t to congratulate me.’

  ‘No, I expect not.’ She hooked her hands around her knees. ‘I guess the congratulations will come in thick and fast once we di
vorce.’

  The silence was broken only by the hiss and crackle of the flames in the fireplace.

  Angelique chanced a glance at him but he was staring into the fire as if it were the most befuddling thing he’d ever seen. Was he worried about their lack of a pre-nup? It was certainly a worrying thing for a man with wealth—or a woman, for that matter—to be exposed to the possibility of a financial carve-up in the event of a divorce.

  The only way to avoid it would be to stay married.

  Which was not something Remy would be likely to suggest, even to keep control of his fortune. He didn’t do love and commitment. He was the epitome of the freedom-loving playboy. Tying him down would be like trying to tame a lion with a toothpick.

  It wasn’t going to happen.

  Remy turned from the fire. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in asking if you’re hungry?’

  Angelique unhooked her hands from around her legs. ‘I am, actually. It must be the cold wintry air. I used to eat heaps when I came here as a kid. My nanna was a fabulous cook.’

  ‘Your grandparents didn’t have a housekeeper?’

  ‘Yes, but nanna still did most of the cooking. I used to help her. I can still make a mean batch of oat cakes and flapjacks.’

  He smiled a sexy smile as he held out his hand to her. ‘I’m told it can sometimes get very hot in the kitchen.’

  Angelique felt a tingle in her core as his strong fingers wrapped around hers. She gave him a sultry look. ‘If you think it’s going to be too hot for you, then you should stay out of there.’

  He brought her up against his body, his aroused body. Another tingle coursed through her, making her nipples stand to attention. His gaze zeroed in on her mouth for a pulsing beat. ‘I’m pretty sure I can handle it.’

  She moved against him, just the once, but it made his eyes go almost black with desire. ‘You think?’

  He swept her up in his arms and carried her towards the door. ‘Let’s go and find out.’

  * * *

  Remy slid her down his body once they got to the kitchen. Her body inflamed his; he had been burning for her ever since they’d arrived. It seemed years since he’d last made love with her but it had only been last night. And what a night that had been.

  He craved her.

  Ached for her.

  His groin was tight with longing; he wanted to sink into her and lose himself. Block his thoughts—the rational, sensible ones, that was. He wanted to feel the magic of her touch, the way her body clenched so tightly around him as if she never wanted to let him go. He could not remember a more passionate, exciting lover. It felt different somehow...more intense; as if his skin had developed a new, overly sensitive layer that only responded to her touch.

  Remy started playing with her lower lip in little tug-and-release bites. ‘How’s the heat so far?’

  She snaked her arms up around his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair. ‘Not hot enough.’ She slid her tongue into his mouth and he nearly disgraced himself then and there.

  He took control of the kiss, deepening the thrusts of his tongue as it chased and subdued hers. She gave little gasps and encouraging groans, her body pressing as close as she physically could. He felt her mound rubbing against his erection, a tantalising tease of the delights to come.

  He lifted her up on to the kitchen bench and stood between her spread thighs. ‘You’re wearing too many clothes,’ he growled against her mouth.

  She nibbled at his lips. ‘That would be because it’s below freezing outside.’

  He grabbed at the back of his cashmere sweater and tugged it over his head. Next came his shirt, which lost a button or two in the process. ‘Now let’s start on you.’

  She gave him a seductive look as she undid the tiny pearl buttons of her designer cardigan. She was wearing a black lacy camisole underneath that showed the shadow of her cleavage and the perfect globes of her breasts. ‘I’m not wearing a bra.’

  His groin tightened another notch. ‘I can see that.’

  She peeled the shoestring straps over her shoulders, one by one, lowering the lacy garment slowly, like a high-class stripper. ‘You want to touch me, don’t you?’

  I want to do more than touch you. ‘What gives you that idea?’ Remy did his deadpan face.

  Her lips curved upwards in a siren’s smile. ‘I’m not going to let you touch me until I’m good and ready. You have to be a good boy and wait.’ She lowered her camisole a little further, revealing a tightly budded pink nipple. ‘Do you think you can do that?’

  Remy had to count backwards to stop himself from jumping the gun. His need was pulsating with such relentless force it was painful. ‘I’ll wait, but you do realise at some point in the future you’re going to pay for this, don’t you?’

  She gave a little mock shiver. ‘Ooh! Is that supposed to scare me?’

  ‘Be scared,’ he growled. ‘Be very scared.’

  She exposed her other breast, all the while holding his gaze with the dancing, mischievous heat of hers. She glided her hand down over her belly to the waistband of her pencil-thin designer jeans. ‘I’m wet. I bet you want to feel how wet, don’t you?’

  Remy had never been so turned on. He was fighting to keep his hands off her. He couldn’t think about anything but the need to thrust into her to the hilt and explode. ‘I’m hard. I bet you want to feel how hard, huh?’

  Her eyes sparkled as she traced a fingertip down the ridge of his erection through the fabric of his trousers. ‘Mmm; impressive.’ She took the same fingertip and traced it down the denim-covered seam of her body. ‘I guess I should get out of my jeans. Would you like that?’

  I would love that. ‘Take your time.’

  She slithered down off the bench, pushing him back with a fingertip. ‘Not so close, big boy. You don’t get to touch until I give the go ahead.’

  Remy mentally gulped. This was going to end badly if she didn’t speed things up a bit. He could feel his erection straining against his jeans. He just hoped the fabric was strong enough to hold him in.

  She was definitely going to pay for this.

  And it would involve a leather whip and handcuffs.

  Angelique locked gazes with him and slowly undid her zipper. The sound of it going down was magnified in the throbbing silence. She stepped out of her heels and then she peeled the jeans off her legs. Once they were off she stepped back into her heels, leaving just the black lace of her knickers on. ‘So...’ She ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip leaving it wet and glistening. ‘Are you getting excited?’

  Way, way beyond that. ‘What do you think?’

  She traced his erection again, her eyes still holding his in a sexy little lock that made his blood heat to boiling. ‘How badly do you want me?’

  Off the scale. ‘Let’s put it this way. Right now I could do you in five seconds flat.’

  Her eyes flared and then her lips pushed forwards in a pout. ‘That sounds like I would be left high and dry.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’d take you along for the ride.’

  She put that teasing fingertip to work again. ‘What if I was to strike up a little deal with you?’

  Remy marvelled at her self-control. He’d always thought he was a master at keeping his desire under his command but she had pushed him to the very limit. His body was a mass of twitching nerve endings and primal urgings. But he was still in enough control—only just—to recognise manipulation when he saw it. ‘What sort of deal?’

  She slowly lowered his zipper. ‘A deal where we both get what we want.’

  He sucked in a breath as her fingers tugged his underwear aside. It was hard to think straight when she was touching him, stroking him to the very edge, but he was not going to be tricked or manoeuvred into giving away what he had spent years fighting to gain.

  Besides, he hadn’t just done it for himself: he had done it for his brothers. It wasn’t his prize to give away. It represented far more than a victory over a double-crossing enemy. Takin
g ownership of Tarrantloch was finally setting right the wrongs of the past. Handing it over to the sole heir of the man who had almost destroyed his family’s fortune was the very last thing he would consider doing, no matter what his relationship with Angelique was. Or wasn’t.

  He pushed her hand away and stepped back from her. ‘Game over, ma belle. I’m not giving you Tarrantloch in exchange for a quick screw up against the kitchen bench. I’m not that desperate.’

  Her expression switched from sexy siren to outraged virago within a heartbeat. ‘You bastard.’

  ‘Orphan is the correct term.’

  She came at him then like a spitting cat, all claws, snarls and scratches. ‘I hate you!’

  Remy restrained her by holding both of her flailing arms behind her back, which rather delightfully pushed her pelvis into blistering contact with his. ‘You don’t hate me. You want me.’

  Her grey-blue eyes flashed venom at him. ‘Why won’t you give me what I want?’

  He ripped her knickers down with a ruthless jerk of his hand. ‘What do you want the most?’ He probed her folds with his painfully erect penis. ‘Tell me. Right now, what do you want the most?’

  He heard her swallow as he made contact with her slippery moistness. ‘I want what’s rightfully mine.’

  ‘Then at least we’re on the same page,’ he said and then he sealed her mouth roughly with his.

  * * *

  Angelique lost herself in his kiss. To be truthful she had lost herself the day she had flown to Dharbiri. Remy had taken control of not just the situation, but also her life and perhaps even her destiny. He had introduced passion and excitement to her and now there was no going back. She didn’t want to go back.

  How was she going to live without this rush of excitement every time his mouth met with hers?

  She had thought she would play him at his own game: up the stakes, tantalise him, tease him until he gave in, but he had turned her efforts around to his advantage.

  He was not going to be hoodwinked out of relinquishing Tarrantloch. Nothing she did or offered was going to change his mind.