One Night In Collection

by Various Authors

  But how?

  Kiss him, an inner voice whispered. If she could get him to put his arms around her, she could slip the phone out of his pocket. She would tuck it down her dress and make an excuse to leave. Then she could call Aziz and tell him where to find her. It was the perfect plan.

  A shame she wasn’t sure she could do it.

  Kiss Marcos? She licked her lips nervously. She was accustomed to being the recipient of kisses, not the initiator. And Marcos seemed like the kind of man who would have a great deal of experience. Unlike her.

  Feeling both awkward and bold, she forced herself to take his hand in her own. “What did my brother and Aziz do?”

  To her relief, he didn’t pull away. “Why do you keep asking me? Do you care?”

  “I care because I hate them too. They’re evil. Not just to me, but to someone I love.”

  Kiss me, she thought, looking up at him. Kiss me.

  The way he looked down at her, pulling her close in the Spanish moonlight, almost made her forget why she was doing this. All she could think of was that they both hated the same men, and that she wanted Marcos to kiss her.

  She slowly ran her hands down his chest. She could feel the muscles through his crisp linen shirt, feel the beat of his heart. “Tell me,” she whispered. “Tell me what they did, what you intend to do in return.”

  He grabbed her hands, forced them to be still. His handsome face looked ferocious, almost savage.

  Kiss me. She took the final step that pressed her body fully against his. She looked up. He was much taller than she was, but in this moment, as she looked up at him in the sultry jasmine-scented night, she realized she’d lost all fear.

  “You aren’t alone, Marcos.” She pressed her cheek against his. His chin felt rough against her skin. Her lips brushed against his ear as she said softly, “Let me help you …”

  She heard his sudden intake of breath. He pulled back, forcing her away from him.

  “It won’t work,” he said harshly.

  “What won’t?” she asked, feeling dazed by her own sudden longing. All she could think about was him kissing her, feeling his lips on hers.

  “Do you really think that you can just flirt and toss your hair and I’ll be so dazzled I’ll let you escape?”

  Her cheeks burned red-hot. So he knew. He knew she was trying to lull him into letting her escape. “No, I—”

  “I’m not that stupid. I won’t let you go just for a few cheap kisses.”

  What was he trying to tell her? Shocked, she met his eyes. But she didn’t have time to feel humiliated. She didn’t have time to think. She was desperate—desperate enough to offer anything. She took a deep breath. “And what if I offered you more than just kisses?”

  “Your body, you mean?” Apparently unaware of what it cost her to even suggest such a thing, he snorted in derision. “If I wanted you, I could seduce you. Easily.”

  “That’s not true!” she gasped, hurt.

  His dark eyes regarded her smugly. “We both know it is.”

  She ground her teeth. Perhaps it was true, that in her inexperience, she’d revealed that she wanted him, but she’d have died rather than admit it. “For your information, I’ve resisted much better men than you. Handsomer. Richer. Smarter.”

  “Have you?” he said evenly. He ran his hand beneath her jaw line, forcing her to look up at him. “So if I were to kiss you now, you’re saying that you would feel nothing.”

  “Not a thing,” she said defiantly.

  “Really.” He wrapped his arms around her. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers, stopping when his lips were a millimeter from hers. “So this leaves you cold?”

  She could feel his breath, smell the sweetness of brandy. Her lips felt swollen, tingling as if warming after frostbite, expanding towards his. “Completely.”

  “And this?”

  He drew her to him in a hot, hard embrace. As he kissed her, her blood boiled, her body felt consumed by fire. Her bones went limp. Dimly, she could hear some inner voice screaming. There was something she was supposed to do while he kissed her. Something.

  She felt his hands brush her bare back as he pressed her against the balustrade. His hips moved against her and she sighed beneath his mouth. She wanted something. What was it? To press her body against his? To let him lift her? To spread her legs and wrap them around his waist? To let him make love to her and finally learn the great mystery that most women her age already knew?

  She felt dizzy in his arms. Trying to steady herself, she brushed her hand against his hip. She felt the small rectangle of the mobile phone in his pocket and her plans came rushing back.

  His phone.

  Later, she thought, dazed. Plenty of time for that later, after she’d had her fill of kisses …

  But then she remembered Nicole’s face, pinched and hungry as she’d seen it last month. She hated Marcos for his cold arrogance, for kidnapping her, for keeping her in captivity.

  So why was it so hard for her to stop kissing him?

  Hardening her heart, she forced herself to slip the phone out of his pocket. Hiding it in the palm of her hand, she pulled away, looked him straight in the eye and lied.

  “I felt nothing.”

  He blinked at her. His voice was hoarse as he replied, “You’re lying.”

  “I’m a Winter,” she said. “Just like you said. A liar and a thief.” She took a step backwards. “Perhaps you should send me to the tower.”

  “Perhaps I should,” he muttered, raking his hand through his hair.

  She turned to go and, for a moment, she thought he was actually going to let her leave with her prize. Then he wrapped his hand over her closed fist, pinning her to the stone balustrade. “Wait.”

  “What?” Her heart was pounding. Any moment he’d discover that she was hiding his phone in her hand.

  He bent his head to whisper in her ear and a pulse ran through her body as she felt his lips brush against the sensitive flesh of her earlobe. “I have to say, after all I’ve heard about your seductive skills, I’m disappointed. It was a clumsy attempt at best.”

  Oh! His insult left her vibrating with humiliation and rage. “You’re the one who kissed me!”

  He gave a derisive laugh.

  “I just wanted to see how far you would go. Now I know. You’ve proved my point—you’ll fall into my bed at the slightest provocation. So please don’t try to bargain with your body again.” His lip curled. “I can obviously get that for free.”

  She had to get out of here before he goaded her into saying something she’d regret. Still hiding the phone, she drew her hand away. Pressing her fist against the fabric of her skirt, she said furiously, “I’d rather be locked in the tower than spend another minute with you.”

  “Fine,” he growled. “I’m sick of the sight of …” He stopped suddenly, his fingers tightening over her fist. “What’s in your hand?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing!” He forced her fingers open to reveal the phone. Barking a laugh, he took it away from her. “Why, you conniving little tart.” He looked at her in amazement. “You’re even more clever than I thought.”

  Clever? She felt sick. She’d lost. It had almost killed her to laugh and flirt with the cold-hearted beast all night, but she’d done it. Now it was all for nothing.

  But she couldn’t let him see her anguish. Ignoring the hard lump in her throat, she raised her chin, glaring at him.

  “Why else would I let you kiss me? Just being near you makes my skin crawl.”

  He gave her an amused smile, but his dark eyes glittered with anger and something more—bitterness? “And to think I almost believed your little show of compassion. ‘I care, Marcos’,” he mimicked. “‘You aren’t alone, Marcos’. You really are a Winter through and through—a thief and a liar. I almost believed that you actually hated Aziz.”

  “I wasn’t lying about that!” she cried.

  “Yes, you hate him so much you can’t wait to throw yourself in h
is bed. Fresh from mine, presumably. Tell me, does it ever get difficult to keep your lovers straight? Sleeping with multiple men each day must make it hard to keep count. Do you give out tickets, or do men just queue up outside your bedroom door?”

  With a gasp, she drew back her hand and slapped him across the face.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MARCOS touched his stinging cheek. He’d deserved that, he supposed.

  But, damn it, she’d played him like a guitar. And he’d fallen for it. Kissing her had been far too intoxicating. He should have expected it after their kiss on the yacht, but he’d told himself that was a one-off. He’d thought he was completely in control where Tamsin Winter was concerned.

  He had been wrong.

  “You owe me an apology,” she said.

  His eyebrows lowered. “I owe you nothing.”

  “I’m not the tart you think I am.”

  He gave an expressive snort.

  She shook her head wearily. “All right, so I dated a lot of men in London. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t under anyone’s control, and I did exactly as I pleased. I didn’t care what it did to my reputation. I stayed out all night, but I never fell in love with any of the men I dated. And I never—”

  “Never what?”

  She turned away. “Forget it.”

  Her face looked so sad, he almost moved closer. He felt drawn to comfort her. And, most of all, to kiss her again.

  Dios mío, was there no end to her trickery? Did the woman have no shame?

  Furious, he flung open his mobile phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Something I should have done hours ago. I’m calling your brother and Aziz to let them know I have you.” Clenching his jaw, he tilted his head at her, pretending to consider. “Which one should I call first?”

  “Neither!”

  “Neither? You surprise me. Any normal woman would be begging me to call her family and friends, if only out of hope for a rescue.”

  She bit her lip. “I do want to be rescued. Only—”

  “Yes?” He paused, his finger poised to dial.

  “I’m afraid they won’t rescue me,” she blurted out.

  “You think they won’t care I’ve kidnapped you? They will. You’re Aziz’s betrothed, Sheldon’s half-sister. They’ll care about losing their business deal if nothing else.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You know about that?”

  “Of course,” he said impatiently, his accent thick. “Without the marriage, there will be no business deal. Winter International will be sold off for parts at a fraction of its worth, and both Sheldon and Aziz will be ruined.”

  “So that’s why you kidnapped me,” she said softly.

  Irritated that he’d said so much, he clenched his jaw, glaring at her.

  “But if Sheldon convinces the Sheikh to make the business deal without a marriage, your plan might not work,” she mused, then took a deep breath. “Or if Aziz finds someone else to marry.”

  “Wouldn’t that be a dream come true for you?” He lifted an eyebrow. “You can’t honestly want to marry Aziz al-Maghrib. You’re too smart not to know what life with him would be like.”

  “But I need them to need me. It’s my only bargaining chip!”

  “Bargaining chip for what?”

  She looked at him with an expression he’d never seen before in her deep blue eyes: pleading. “Please, Marcos. Let me be the one to call Aziz.”

  “Why?”

  She took two pacing steps. “He and I barely know each other, but I’m sure he has a mistress. I saw things in his room, heard a phone call he didn’t want me to hear.” She swallowed. “What if I don’t show up for our wedding, and he just decides to marry her instead?”

  Marcos frowned. “My investigators haven’t found any evidence of a mistress. He’s only been around you, Camilla and his sister.”

  Her jaw jutted stubbornly. “He has a mistress. I know I’m right.”

  “Even so, I doubt the Sheikh would find a low-class tart to be an acceptable bride for his nephew.” He gave her a sardonic smile. “Present company excepted, of course.”

  Her lips pressed together and her hands clenched hard against the balustrade. “Insult me all you want, but let me call Aziz. Think of how much more devastating the call would be,” she added in a wheedling tone. “I can sound frightened, tearful, whatever you want. I can say you’ve been maltreating me and beg him to save me.”

  “What are you really after?” he demanded. “What’s your scheme this time—to give him clues about our location?”

  “If that’s what you’re afraid of, I’ll call him in front of you,” she said. “I won’t say anything you don’t want me to say.”

  “I don’t understand.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Why are you so desperate to marry a man you claim to hate?”

  She licked her lips. “I have my own reasons, which I don’t care to share. Just as you do.”

  “Then I can’t trust you.” He started to dial Aziz’s number on his phone—a number he’d involuntarily committed to memory long ago. “I have waited too long to—”

  Abruptly, she snatched the phone out of his hands and threw it over the balcony. The two of them watched as it sailed through the night to land somewhere in the dark palm trees below.

  She raised her face to look at him. Her eyes were wide. But, beneath her fear, she looked grimly determined.

  He realized he’d made a grave mistake in ever believing that Tamsin Winter was a brainless coquette. He’d underestimated her. And while he’d complacently believed that he was the one in control, she’d been luring him towards his doom like some modern-day Circe.

  But to what end? What was her plan?

  No woman had ever intrigued him so much—or driven him so crazy.

  “Why did you do that?” he asked slowly.

  She gave a fake little laugh. “You don’t want to call until after nine. Think of your mobile bill.”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders, causing her to cry out. “Why did you throw away my phone?”

  “You’re hurting me!”

  His mood was dark, almost savage as he shook her. “Tell me.”

  “I just want to be the one to talk to him!” she cried. “He can’t marry anyone else. I have to convince him I’m the only one he wants, or else my brother won’t—”

  “Won’t what?”

  “I love Aziz, all right? I love him, I miss him, I need to talk to him!”

  “Liar! Love is the one thing you don’t feel for Aziz.” His lip curled. “You’re playing me. And you’ve been doing it all night.”

  “I haven’t—”

  “What is your plan? Did you already find a way to contact your brother?” He gave her another hard shake. “Does Winter know that you are here? Answer me, damn you, or I swear I—”

  “Please, no!” she shouted, cowering and protecting her face with her hands.

  He stared at her. She was shaking. The blood had drained from her pale skin, leaving her white as snow beneath the black halter dress.

  He realized that she believed he was going to hit her. It shocked him so much that he let her go. “Madre de Dios, Tamsin, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Just get it over with,” she replied miserably.

  He gently raised her chin. She still wouldn’t meet his eyes but, as he turned her face towards the candlelight, he saw faded bruises along the side of her left cheekbone.

  “Who hit you?” he asked in a low voice. “Aziz?”

  “No,” she whispered. “Not Aziz.”

  He knew at once.

  “Your brother,” he said grimly. “Winter did this to you.”

  She pressed her lips together and, when she finally looked up, her china-blue eyes were swimming with tears. “My father used to hit me all the time. At least Sheldon’s only slapped me once.” With an unsteady laugh she crossed her arms, pressing them against her body like armor. “I tried to run away with my sister. We didn’
t even make it out of Tangiers before he caught us. That’s why he took us to Tarfaya. With the Sahara on one side and the sea on the other, he knew we wouldn’t be able to escape before the wedding.”

  “Why did you try to run away?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Was it to avoid the wedding to Aziz?” His head was spinning. None of this made sense. “If the marriage is against your will, why are you so desperate to make it happen?”

  “Why should I trust you?” she bit out. “You kidnapped me. You want to destroy my family. I’m not going to tell you anything!”

  “The marriage is off. I won’t allow your brother or Aziz to hurt you or anyone again.”

  She turned her face away. “It’s not against my will. This past week, I … I changed my mind about Aziz. I don’t mind marrying him. I … want to.”

  “You want to.”

  “Yes.”

  She was lying. He could see it in her posture, in the way she trembled in the warm Spanish night. “But Aziz has already been married once,” he pressed, coming closer so he could see her face. “He beat that wife to death.”

  She licked her dry lips. “That was an accident. She was trampled by horses in the desert.”

  “Ah, yes, an accident.” His voice was acidic. “It will be ruled an accident when it happens to you too.” He heard her sudden intake of breath, but continued relentlessly, “Do you not care that your sister will grow up without you? Are you really so anxious to die?”

  He saw her legs tremble and her knees start to buckle. Swiftly, Marcos pulled up a cushioned chair beneath her. She sank into it, looking fragile and bewildered.

  Grabbing her brandy from the dining table, he pushed it into her hands. “Drink this.”

  “No.”

  “Drink it,” he ordered.

  She took a long drink, then gasped for air. “It feels like fire.”

  He brought a chair next to hers and, for a few moments, neither of them spoke. They looked out into the warm Andalusian night, over the moss-covered balustrade towards the dark, swaying palm trees and the distant lights of the village.

  “Why are you suddenly pretending to be nice to me?” she asked quietly.

  Her suspicious question almost made him laugh. In his whole life, no one had ever accused him of being nice before. He shrugged. “You are my guest.”