“We’ll continue this discussion later,” he growled. She blinked up at him, her limpid blue eyes looking dazed as he lifted her up in his arms and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Wait—no!” she cried, and started to struggle and kick.
Ruthlessly, he carried her through the trees towards the road.
“Please,” she screamed, and her voice ended with a sob. “You have to let me go.”
“Why should I?” he demanded.
“Let me go or my sister could die!”
That stopped him in his tracks. He could already see his car through the trees, but he immediately put her down. “Tell me,” he ordered.
She shook her head miserably.
“Another trick. I knew it,” he said, and started to reach for her again.
“It’s not a trick!” To his alarm, her eyes filled up with tears. “You were right when you asked if I was marrying Aziz against my will. My brother is forcing me. I have no choice!”
“What hold does he have over you?”
“Nicole—she’s only ten. I thought that she was being cared for by our nanny, but last month I found out that Sheldon used his power as trustee to ransack my trust fund. Now he’s doing the same with hers. I found Nicole half-starved and alone on his Yorkshire estate, while he and Camilla were using her money to ski in Zermatt.”
Marcos shook his head, clenching his jaw, wondering if he should believe a word out of her beautiful, lying mouth. “And your brother convinced you that if you clinched his business deal by marrying Aziz, he would take better care of your sister?”
“As if I would believe that.” She wiped tears from her eyes savagely. “My brother promised that, if I married Aziz, he would give me custody and guardianship of Nicole. She couldn’t live with me, of course, but I could use her trust fund—what’s left of it—to hire back the nanny and make sure Nicole was loved and safe.”
He stared at her with shock. “But you would be trapped for the rest of your life! Aziz would never let you go, Tamsin. As his wife, you would bear his name, bear his children. You would be his possession until the day you die. He’d value you less than his horses and treat you accordingly.” He furrowed his brow. “You would really sacrifice yourself for your sister?”
She looked up at him miserably. “My sister is ten years old. Ten, Marcos. She’s a better person than I ever was. She deserves to be protected and if I don’t do it, who will?”
It left him speechless.
Ten years old. So young. His own brother had been nearly that age when he’d died, and there had been no one to protect him. Certainly not Marcos. He hadn’t helped his little brother, he’d only caused his death—
Marcos pushed the thought away. He looked at Tamsin grimly. “Marrying Aziz is a death sentence.”
“But what else can I do?” Tamsin said, clutching her hands. “If you have a better idea, I’d love to hear it.”
He clenched his jaw. “Go to Social Services in Britain and fight for custody.”
“You think they would give custody to me, the party girl of the West End? They’d just toss her into foster care. I can’t let that happen. For most of my life I was in America and barely saw her. I called, sent gifts on her birthday, visited on holidays. I trusted that my stupid, selfish brother would take care of her.” She folded her arms, raising her chin. “So it’s my fault that she was half-starved and abandoned. My fault. I should have been looking out for her.”
“Right,” he said acidly. “But after Aziz kills you in another little accident, your sister will be as alone as ever. She won’t even have you to protect her. What will happen to her after you’re dead?”
She stared at him, tears welling up in her eyes. “I … I don’t know.”
Marcos heard a loud slam. He looked at the road and saw a beat-up van. Four hard-eyed guards were pouring out of the back of it with guns. Aziz al-Maghrib, dressed in the traditional white robes of a sheikh, descended from the passenger side door as if he were going to a party.
He was going to a party, of sorts. Marcos’s funeral.
Marco grabbed Tamsin’s arm and forced her to kneel low against the ground, where the younger orange trees, as well as scrub bush like lavender and rock rose, offered more cover.
For all the good it did to hide with his Ferrari sitting parked on the road, shining a brilliant red in the first light of dawn.
¡Maldito sea! He cursed himself for a fool. He’d left himself only two options.
He could fight.
Or he could run.
He watched two guards begin a methodical search of the vineyard, while the other two came towards the grove of trees. His Arabic was rudimentary, but he understood enough of what Aziz was shouting at his men to know that his chances of escape were grim. Either Tamsin had told him who’d kidnapped her, or Aziz had guessed. But at any rate, they’d recognized his Ferrari.
He knew he could disarm and disable one man, and perhaps two, but he wouldn’t stand a chance against five armed men at once. Chances of Marcos getting a swift bullet to the brain or heart were high. And, though Aziz hated to get his hands dirty, preferring others to do it for him, Marcos had to grudgingly admit that the man could fight. He was cunning and vicious and, while at the University of Paris, he’d learned Savate, the French martial art combining street-fighting and kickboxing.
Even Marcos knew he couldn’t fight Aziz and four other trained fighters at once and win.
And as for running away?
Marcos knew this forest, the vineyards, every inch of his land. If he let Tamsin go, it would distract Aziz’s men long enough for him to escape.
But he looked down at Tamsin in his arms. She was pale. The only color in her face was her bright pink lips. She was biting down on them hard, as if to keep from screaming, while her eyes followed Aziz’s every movement.
Give her up to Aziz? Fail after twenty years? Let the man who’d destroyed his family continue to live in peace and prosperity—with Tamsin as his wife? Give her to Aziz, to be in his bed every night, to use her how he pleased?
No. Marcos clenched his jaw. He’d rather die than let that happen.
Holding tight on to her, Marcos whispered in her ear. “This is your chance. One scream from you and they’ll find us. They’ll take you back to Morocco. You’ll be Aziz’s bride before the day is out.”
She visibly swallowed. “And you?” she mouthed.
Clenching his jaw, he glanced towards the nearest guard. He was drawing closer, pushing through the trees. “They brought those guns for a reason.” He looked back at her. “One scream, and this will all be over.”
CHAPTER FIVE
MARCOS looked so grim, Tamsin thought with a cold shiver. Almost as if part of him hoped that she really would scream.
Staring at Aziz’s men through the trees, she opened her mouth, trying to make herself do it. Aziz would take her and, Marcos was right, she’d be his bride by the end of the day. She could ensure her sister’s safety.
But for how long?
After Aziz kills you in another little accident, your sister will be as alone as ever. She won’t even have you to protect her. What will happen to her after you’re dead?
She would just have to stay alive, she told herself desperately. She would obey Aziz’s every whim. She would please him in every way …
She glanced at Marcos. His eyes were dark and unreadable. She made a small noise in the back of her throat, and he didn’t even flinch. She could scream, she realized. He had no intention of stopping her.
But if she screamed, what would happen to him?
“Tamsin,” she heard Aziz sing softly from the road. His crooning voice made chills run down her spine. “I know you’re here, ma petite. Does he have you? Do not fear. We’ll soon find you. Both of you.”
Shards of sunlight were starting to penetrate the edges of the orange grove. The two nearest guards came closer. Fallen branches cracked beneath their boots like gunshot.
; Even if she remained silent, they wouldn’t be able to hide for long.
Marcos’s eyes suddenly narrowed. Very quietly, he pulled his mobile phone from his pocket. She watched him, breathless with sudden hope.
“Reyes?” she mouthed, and he nodded. As he punched the keys, the tiny screen had a fluorescent glow. Tamsin cradled her hands around it, trying to hide the small light. Haltingly, Marcos started to text a message, his large fingers clumsy against the keys.
She put her hand on his arm, looking at him beseechingly. With a breath, he nodded and handed her the phone.
With practiced swiftness, Tamsin swiftly texted a message. She handed him the phone so he could see what she’d written. He nodded, then hit ‘send’. He closed the phone with a soft click.
Meanwhile, Aziz’s bodyguards were coming closer. She heard one of them say something in Arabic, saw him pointing at the ground. Aziz gave a loud, guttural order and the two men in the vineyard gave up searching the rows and came to join them in the orange grove. What had the man seen on the ground? She bit her lip. Had they dropped something when Marcos had chased her?
Then she glanced at her feet, tucked underneath the muddy, bedraggled hem of her nightgown. Her hand rose to her mouth to cover her sudden intake of breath.
Her right foot had a deep cut on the sole. She hadn’t felt it—her feet were half-numb. But she’d been tracking blood with every step.
The blood would lead Aziz’s men right to them. The sun was rising and, with every minute of the new day, the grove was growing brighter. Soon there would be enough light for Aziz to see the path.
She grabbed Marcos’s hand, pressing it to her heart. At this moment, all she could think about was that she didn’t want Aziz to find her. She didn’t want to leave Marcos’s side. Most of all, she didn’t want him to die.
She glanced back at her foot and he followed her gaze. His expression was grim. Clenching his fists, he slowly stood up, and she could read the resolve in his eyes.
He intended to fight for her.
But, as powerful as he was, he was only one man against five. She couldn’t let him sacrifice himself for her. Aziz would destroy him.
She rose to her feet, squaring her shoulders. She took one step forward, steeling herself to run towards Aziz.
He grabbed her wrist.
“No,” he whispered.
She shook her head, wanting to cry, but there were no tears left. “It’s the only way I can save you.”
“No,” he repeated more loudly. This time there was an edge of steel to his voice.
One of Aziz’s men looked up, tilting his head as if he’d heard something. She swallowed, feeling torn apart. Marcos wasn’t going to let her give herself up to Aziz, but what did he expect her to do? Watch calmly while they gunned him down in front of her?
She heard the sound of an engine down the road. It was false hope, she told herself. Probably just a plane flying overhead. But, like a miracle, the sound grew louder, and one of Aziz’s men suddenly shouted an alarm. She heard Aziz curse loudly in French, then watched as he turned in a furious, haughty swoosh of robes. At his orders, all of the hunters scattered—but not before Tamsin heard a cacophony of bullets that sent panicked birds flying from the forest.
Then silence.
Three black sedans roared up on the road. One kept going in pursuit of the van while the other two parked at the edge of the forest grove.
“Patrón!” Reyes shouted.
Marcos shouted back a reply. Overcome with relief, Tamsin sagged against him. He put his arm around her, supporting her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to be hurt. I didn’t want to leave you in the middle of the night. But my sister …”
“It’s all right,” he said softly. “It’s all right now, querida.”
Suddenly, her whole body hurt and the cut on her foot screamed with pain. She stumbled as he led her out of the forest. Without a word, he picked her up in his arms, cradling her close to his body as he carried her back to the road.
She was too exhausted to protest. Too grateful. All she could think was that they were both alive, and she was in Marcos’s arms. He’d risked death for her.
His beautiful red Ferrari had been left riddled with bullet holes. Aziz hadn’t been able to get Tamsin or Marcos, so he’d taken out his frustration on the expensive car. Utterly destroyed, smoke rose from its crushed hood like a pallid ghost.
Marcos’s hands tightened, but his face showed no reaction. For Tamsin, it was the last straw.
Aziz was a horrible, cruel man. Marcos was right. He would never have let her go. But, if she didn’t marry him, what could she do? What could she possibly do to save her sister?
She pressed her face against Marcos’s chest as sudden sobs racked her body.
As she cried, she felt his whole body go tense. He started shouting out orders and, a moment later, she was in the back seat of the sedan, still cradled in his arms. Within moments, he’d whisked her back to the castle.
Without a word, he deposited her into her guest room and left. As a maid drew her bath, Tamsin’s tears dried up. She put on a fresh nightgown and, by the time the doctor arrived to bandage her foot, she felt numb again. The maid brought some tea and buttered toast and tucked her into bed.
As comfortable as the bed was, Tamsin’s whole body cried out to be back in Marcos’s bedroom, to be in his arms—the only place she’d felt safe. But why would he want her now? She’d tricked him, run away, nearly gotten him killed and finally sobbed all over his shirt. No wonder he’d just left her.
In spite of spending the previous night lost, wandering around in circles across the dark Spanish countryside, she didn’t expect to sleep. But within two minutes she did. She didn’t wake up until hours later, when long afternoon shadows were spilling across the tiles of her bedroom floor. She blinked, feeling groggy, wondering what the doctor had slipped into her tea.
“Feeling better?”
Marcos was sitting in a chair near the fire, watching her. She wondered how long he’d been there.
“Yes.” Surprisingly, it was the truth. Then she remembered Nicole and sat up in bed. “But my sister is still with Sheldon and Camilla! I don’t know what they’ll do to her if I don’t—”
“We will save her.”
“How?” she asked, touched in spite of herself by his unexpected use of ‘we’. “My brother will never let her go. Not while she has money in her trust fund.”
“I won’t let him hurt either of you,” he said. “I didn’t have my investigators focus on the child. That was my mistake. If I’d been more thorough, I would have known what Sheldon was doing.” His jaw clenched. “I’ll get provable evidence of your brother’s neglect and thievery and we’ll file a petition for custody.”
“But I told you. There’s no way I’ll get custody of Nicole. Everyone in Britain thinks I’m a flighty, promiscuous little tart.” She gave him a tight smile. “Just like you did.”
“I don’t think that of you any more.” His eyes met hers. “And no one will think that of my wife.”
What kind of drugs had the doctor given her, anyway?
She licked her dry lips. “I’m sorry, I think I’m hallucinating. Did you just ask me to be your wife?”
He abruptly rose from the chair and sat down next to her on the bed. “What if I did?”
His proximity made her nervous. She moved her hand away from his on the blanket. “You don’t love me, for one thing!”
“Why is that a problem? Do you love me?”
Her heart did a painful flip at his question. Of course she didn’t love him. It was true she’d given him her virginity, and he’d made love to her in a way she could still feel all over her body. She hadn’t wanted to leave him, and then he’d saved her life in the forest and she’d felt … something.
But it wasn’t love, she assured herself. She wouldn’t be that stupid.
“No,” she said finally. “Of course I don’t lo
ve you.”
“You didn’t love Aziz either, but you couldn’t wait to marry him.” He gave her a grim smile. “I promise I’ll be a better husband than Aziz. For one thing, I will give you a speedy divorce. It will be a marriage of convenience between us. Just long enough to get you custody of your sister.”
She swallowed, wanting to ask if his proposal meant he’d forgiven her for tricking him and escaping through the tunnel. Looking up into his eyes, she didn’t have the courage. She murmured, “Why are you going out of your way to help me?”
He stood up abruptly. “Because I had a brother.”
“Had?” she asked timidly.
“He died,” he said.
“I’m so sorry. How—”
“I don’t want to discuss it.”
His voice was brittle, brusque. She wanted to know more, but could see by the hard, tense lines of his body that asking questions would be a waste of time.
Was it possible that his brother’s death was somehow linked to Marcos’s desire for revenge?
Impossible, she thought. Aziz might be a murderer, but her brother was not. He was a weak buffoon with poor taste in women, not a murderer of children.
Although he had abandoned Nicole to starve …
She shook the image out of her head. She would get custody of her sister soon and then she’d always be safe. They both would. Thanks to Marcos.
She looked up at him. “Whatever your motives for helping me, thank you,” she said softly. “That you’d give up your revenge in order to help me save Nicole …”
“Give it up?” His dark eyebrows lowered. “I’ve been planning it for twenty years. I’m not giving up my revenge for you or anyone.”
Twenty years? Marcos couldn’t be older than thirty-two or thirty-three. He’d been plotting against Aziz and her half-brother since he’d been just a boy?
What on earth had they done?
“In fact …” Marcos went to the window, looking out at the wide expanse of his lands. When he turned back, his eyes were hard and his smile was chilling. “Taking you as my bride will play nicely into my plans. It will humiliate Aziz, making him look like a fool to the world. And it will show Sheldon that I have control over not just him, but his whole family.”
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