Claimed by Her Billionaire Protector

by Donald Robyn

She ignored the comment. ‘I’ll catalogue those documents.’

  Black brows lifted and his mouth hardened. ‘I’m sorry to put you through enough trauma to make this such a difficult decision,’ he said.

  Sarcastic beast!

  ‘I’m worried about this possible cyclone,’ she told him stonily. ‘Big storms play havoc with flowers. Most of ours come from Auckland, which will be at risk if the wretched cyclone makes it this far south.’

  ‘We’re all concerned about that.’

  Why should it bother him? If the storm tracked too close to Northland he could just climb into his helicopter and fly off to his huge station in the South Island where he’d be safe...

  Trying to sound brisk, Elana said, ‘With any luck it will get lost on the way and end up dying a natural death somewhere on the way to Chile.’

  ‘Let’s hope so.’

  She nodded. ‘I sometimes wonder if the emergency organisations tend to overstate the strength of storms so people won’t be idiots and push their luck.’

  ‘Only to have some do just that in spite of all the warnings,’ he observed dryly.

  As Steve had done. His decision not to wear a seatbelt had killed him.

  * * *

  Niko watched her features harden, her mouth tighten. Why? Although she seemed aware of him, she clearly didn’t want anything from him. Did she have an inherent distrust of him—or was it all men?

  Perhaps she’d been badly hurt by an affair gone wrong.

  And why did he find Elana Grange so attractive—OK, dammit, so intensely desirable? All he should want from her was her expertise at dealing with documents. Yet he couldn’t overcome or banish this inconvenient, tantalising tug of sensual hunger.

  Too abruptly he asked, ‘What changed your mind?’

  * * *

  Elana certainly wasn’t going to admit to a shortage of money. ‘I surrendered to temptation,’ she told him, not hiding the irony in her tone. ‘All those documents—who knows what fascinating things I might find in them?’

  ‘Possibly little more than boring day-to-day incidents,’ he observed cynically. ‘Now we talk money.’ And named a sum that made her blink.

  ‘That’s far too much,’ she blurted.

  ‘Nonsense. It’s the going rate.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ she demanded.

  He gave her a look that silenced her. ‘You agreed to do it. I’m holding you to that. You’ll have to fit it in around your hours here, which will mean weekend work for you. Naturally you’ll earn extra for that.’

  ‘But—’

  He interrupted smoothly, ‘I suggest you start by spending a couple of days checking out the documents and making notes. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.’

  Taken aback, Elana said, ‘No, it’s Saturday, and the shop doesn’t close until one.’

  He frowned. ‘Come directly to Mana after you’ve closed the shop and I’ll show you where most of the documents are.’

  It sounded like an order. Stiffly Elana responded, ‘Very well, Mr Radcliffe. Or should I say, Aye, aye, sir?’

  Niko’s exasperation warred with wry amusement. He deserved it. ‘Neither. I didn’t intend to sound officious, and my name is Niko.’

  After giving him a startled glance, she half smiled. ‘Very well, Niko, I’ll be there around two o’clock.’

  * * *

  Whenever she said it, his name sounded different on her lips. What would it sound like if she were in his arms? Would her voice deepen, turn husky, slur...?

  Ruthlessly shutting down that train of thought, he said, ‘I suggest you spend at least a couple of days—longer if it’s necessary—going through the boxes and crates and making notes.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Until tomorrow, then.’

  * * *

  Elana watched him turn and leave the shop, relieved at being able to breathe again. But she dragged her gaze away when he stopped outside to greet a woman she didn’t recognise—rather glamorous but a little too overdressed for Waipuna.

  Startled by that swift snide judgment, Elana strode into the flower room. She’d never before met a man like Niko Radcliffe—and never would be too soon to meet another one. His potent male magnetism set her foolish heart throbbing, but, more significantly, he was beginning to invade her mind, turning her into someone who’d just unkindly judged a woman she’d never seen before.

  * * *

  That night the television forecaster charted the progress of the weather system far in the north, still not an official cyclone, but already creating havoc in the tropical islands it crossed. Elana tried to read a library book, which failed utterly to capture her attention; every time she turned a page she somehow saw Niko’s face superimposed over the print. Disgusted by her foolishness, she gave up and headed for bed.

  * * *

  The next day a radiant sky and the complete lack of wind mocked any fears of the weather. As she negotiated the cattle stop between the stone walls—now as pristine as when they’d first been built—she tried to discipline her jumping heartbeat. Infuriatingly, it began to race when she pulled to a stop outside the gates. She grabbed her bag from the passenger seat beside her and opened the door.

  When she straightened up and turned, Niko was striding towards her, the sun striking blue flames from his black hair. Clad in a casual polo shirt and jeans, he moved with a dangerous litheness that sent erotic little shivers scudding down her spine.

  Hoping her involuntary, reckless response was well hidden, she forced a smile and said sedately, ‘Good afternoon.’

  ‘Good afternoon. Would you like coffee before we start?’

  We start? Surely not...

  Her reply was crisp. ‘No, thank you. I’ll get to work.’

  ‘Before you do, come and have a look at something Patty West found in the attic this morning.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Watercolours of the garden. Amateurish—probably painted by family members, and, judging by the clothes, I’d say late nineteenth century.’

  The difference between its previous musty disrepair and the elegance that greeted her when she went into the homestead once more took Elana’s breath away. It was a joy to see the house resplendently celebrating its many years with pride and grace.

  ‘I’m so glad you brought this place back to life,’ she told her host.

  He shrugged. ‘The architect and the workmen—and the decorator—have done a very good job.’

  Not surprising. His ruthless dismissal of Mana’s previous manager proved that Count Niko Radcliffe had no time for people who failed to meet his standards. If he didn’t think she was earning her wage he’d almost certainly sack her as brutally as he’d ditched Mr Percy.

  He went on, ‘The house was well-built originally, and the framework is still good. Only the roof had to be replaced—by the same man who tells me he’s expecting to do yours soon.’

  Startled, and more than a little annoyed, Elana could only say, ‘Oh—yes.’

  His smile held more irony than amusement. ‘Living in a small country area has plenty of advantages, but I’m sure you understand privacy isn’t one of them.’

  ‘Indeed I do,’ she said briskly, and changed the subject. ‘What are your plans for the garden? Some of the trees look pretty dilapidated. I hope none of them are too far gone to be saved.’

  ‘Relax,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’ve been advised of a good arborist and I’ll only agree to sacrificing trees that are a danger. The drawings are out on the veranda.’

  He’d spread them out on a table, and stood by as Elana perused them carefully, eyes half-closed against the brilliance of the afternoon sun on the waters of the estuary.

  ‘They’re charming.’ She scanned a border the artist had delineated carefully. ‘Whoever did this studied the plants minutely.’

  ‘If you come across more as you go through the documents, I’ve organised an expert in conservation for them. My PA has given me a sheet of contacts for you.’

  Elana’s upward glance met cool bl
ue eyes. She forgot what she’d been intending to say as warmth spread through her, quickening her breath, setting her traitor heart pounding in her ears.

  Even her voice sounded odd as she said, ‘Thank you.’

  Here at Mana, Niko Radcliffe beside her, she was suddenly gripped by an overwhelming sense of belonging, as though she’d been lost and was found, as though somehow the scattered parts of her life were reassembling—not as they had been before, but forming a different pattern, making her whole once more.

  As though once, long ago, she’d stood here with this man beside her, looking out over the garden towards the estuary...

  She felt strangely, dangerously secure. Bewildered, she wrenched her gaze away from his narrowed survey and focused on the watercolours.

  Of course nothing momentous had happened. Struggling to summon some practical common sense, she told herself that those few moments of rightness, of belonging, had to be a flash of déjà vu, the occasional startling sensation of reliving a forgotten, or never experienced, occasion.

  In other words, her brain was playing tricks on her. So she’d ignore it.

  Niko startled her by asking abruptly, ‘What’s happened? Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ She blinked, keeping her gaze on the faded pictures. ‘I wonder what else has been abandoned.’ And went on, ‘I’m sure you’ve got other things to do. If you point me in the direction of the stables, I’ll have a look around there.’

  ‘I’ll take you there,’ he said.

  Firmly.

  * * *

  When her teeth closed a second on her bottom lip Niko had to prevent himself from telling her to stop ravaging her soft mouth.

  And from wondering exactly how it would feel if she ever nipped his skin...

  As his whole body responded to the wayward thought, he cursed silently. This was ridiculous. It was just as well he was leaving Waipuna; his body was betraying him with a lack of discretion he hadn’t experienced since his adolescence. Yes, Elana was attractive and intelligent, independent and self-possessed—all things he found desirable in a woman. But this hunger, this wild need was nothing he’d experienced before. Why this woman?

  * * *

  Elana looked up, met an intent, hard gaze that sent a scary excitement down her spine, mixed with an even scarier anticipation.

  Niko said, ‘Before we go to the stables, I’ll show you where you’ll be working.’

  He’d organised an office for her in the homestead, a small room off the veranda. ‘Check the equipment,’ he ordered. ‘My personal assistant said you’ll need all this, but take a look. If anything else is necessary it will be supplied.’

  After a swift survey of the room she said, ‘No, your PA knew exactly what I’d need.’

  He told her ironically, ‘She knows exactly what anyone needs. In some ways she reminds me very much of Mrs Nixon.’

  Elana laughed. ‘Then she must have a heart of gold.’

  Niko found himself warming to that laughter—it was spontaneous and fresh, close to mischievous. This was a different side to Elana—one he hadn’t suspected. Until then she’d been guarded, keeping her emotions controlled and corralled beneath that cool composure.

  Her spontaneity touched some part of him, summoning a sudden query. What would she be like as a lover?

  Would that spontaneity extend to her caresses, to her kisses? Another charge of hunger, of sheer, potent need, shot through him like a jolt of electricity.

  Dangerous—and definitely not something he wanted to happen.

  Frowning, he looked out of the window. ‘I’ll see that the garden bed out there is tidied up so you have a decent outlook instead of a tangle of creepers and shrubs and weeds.’

  ‘I rather like it,’ she told him, touched by his consideration. ‘It’s very like Sleeping Beauty’s garden—oh, and look, there’s an early rose.’

  ‘Roses are your favourite flowers?’

  A little surprised, she smiled. ‘They’re just about everyone’s, aren’t they?’

  He sent her a quizzical glance. ‘Judging by your tone, not yours?’

  ‘When I was a little girl I loved aquilegias—the flowers my mother called Granny’s Bonnets. They were purple and they fitted over the end of my finger like a little cap. The bumblebees loved them. And I have to admit to falling deeply for those great, flaunting crimson blooms on some magnolia trees.’

  ‘How about huge fluffy pink peonies?’

  ‘Love them too,’ she said promptly. ‘They won’t grow here, of course. They need much colder winters.’

  Like the ones in the Southern Alps, where he’d been born.

  His question brought her back to some sort of equilibrium. He’d gone from a high country station to a palace and a title. She might be acutely, desperately aware of him, but when he decided to marry he’d almost certainly choose someone who’d fit into his life.

  Marry? Where on earth had that thought come from?

  * * *

  She forced herself to meet his penetrating gaze. ‘How do you want me to report to you?’

  And held her breath until he said, ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be away. I have a business deal to close in China. Email me periodically with your progress. No, better still, we’ll use the computer’s communications programme so we can talk. You know how to do that?’ He watched as she nodded, and added, ‘I’ll email you with dates and times. And don’t hurry. I don’t care how long you take—just do a good job.’

  Which sounded simple, but after seeing the cartons of documents, Elana realised just how much time she might need to spend at Mana.

  Niko said a formal goodbye when the chopper arrived; equally formally she wished him a safe journey. But the homestead seemed oddly empty and echoing after he’d gone.

  Now, coping with this unexpected, bewildering hunger for a man she knew so little about, she had to be grateful for her mother’s hard-won wisdom when it came to charismatic men.

  Yet, in a way she didn’t understand, the very intensity of feelings evoked by Niko’s presence had somehow broken through the numbing grief that had shadowed her emotions these past months.

  Was it a stage in recovery, a step to reclaiming her life?

  She grimaced. Not likely. Her powerful reaction to him had to be nothing more than lust. A charismatic, compelling man, he just happened to be around while she was going through perhaps the final stage of recovery from grief. And the unexpected and cryptic déjà vu moment in the garden must have been brought on by memories of a happy visit as a child to the homestead.

  That evening the forecast brought relief. The tropical storm had turned to the right and was heading out across the Pacific, losing intensity as it sank into cooler latitudes, and well away from both New Zealand and the islands of Polynesia to the north.

  ‘But there’s a nasty low sneaking up from the South Pole,’ the announcer informed her in an appropriately grave tone. ‘It will bring winds and heavy rain to the South Island when it arrives in a couple of days. Farmers, you’ll need to check the shelter for your stock, and it might pay to make sure you have stores of food, as if it keeps this intensity roads may be closed by snow in the south, or flooding further north.’

  ‘Oh, joy,’ Elana muttered caustically, and switched to another channel.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE SHRILL SUMMONS of the telephone woke Elana from her first sleep. Blinking, wondering if she’d dreamt it, she peered through the darkness. Another urgent ring convinced her she was awake—and in the middle of the night this had to be an emergency. Alarm knotting her stomach, she staggered out into the sitting room and lifted the receiver. ‘Hello,’ she croaked.

  His voice harsh, Niko said, ‘Sorry to wake you but I’ve just seen your car being driven towards Waipuna.’

  ‘Wha—what?’ She drew in a dazed breath, convinced she was dreaming. ‘Niko? No, you’re in China.’

  ‘Not now, I’m back in Waipuna.’

  They’d spoken every day since he’d
left a fortnight previously, and each time his face on the computer screen had charged her with excitement—futile and foolish excitement. He’d shown interest in her progress with the documents, and he’d spoken briefly of his impressions of Beijing, but she knew better than to build hopeless dreams.

  ‘You didn’t hear it being taken?’ he asked.

  ‘No. I’ll ring the police,’ she told him numbly.

  ‘I’ve already done that. I’ll be at your place in a few minutes.’

  Heart banging, she put down the receiver. Her car was vital; without it she’d be unable to get to Waipuna to work, unable to go anywhere. Steve’s old banger was still in the garage, but it didn’t have a warrant of fitness and probably wouldn’t get one without quite a lot of money being spent on it.

  ‘Oh, hell!’ she muttered. ‘Think positively, for heaven’s sake. The police will stop them and they’ll return the car.’

  But the combination of an adrenalin overdose with a sense of violation made her feel sick. She stood staring blindly out across the estuary, until she abruptly realised she was clad in a sketchy pair of pyjamas—and Niko was on his way.

  She ran to her bedroom and scrambled into jeans and a shirt, sliding her feet into the nearest footwear—a pair of sandals.

  Only just in time. A beam of light swept across the window. Feeling as though she’d been hit by a train, she raced to the door and opened it, letting out a sheet of warm light as Niko got out of the car and strode up the path towards her.

  He looked like something out of a dream, tall and lithe and handsome. No prince from a fairy tale, though—his face was set in hard lines of anger.

  ‘Where did you see the car?’ she asked baldly, stepping back to let him in.

  ‘About a kilometre down the road, heading towards Waipuna. Don’t worry—the police will stop them before they get to the intersection.’

  Appalled, she said, ‘I hope no one gets hurt.’

  ‘Your old schoolmate should have convinced you that the police know what they’re doing in situations like this.’

  * * *

  He examined her keenly, trying to ignore the swift, reckless rush of hunger setting his body alight. She’d obviously scrambled into her clothes without bothering with underwear. Although her green-gold eyes were still heavy-lidded and slumbrous, she held her soft mouth under tight control, managing to look both determined and profoundly sensuous.