Claimed by Her Billionaire Protector

by Donald Robyn

  ‘It’s all right,’ she managed, her voice a mere thread. And when he didn’t move, she tightened her arms against his broad back and lifted her face so that he could see it and whispered harshly, ‘Please—’

  When he still didn’t move, she looked up into his hard, angular face, and arched up, pulling him into her, almost sobbing at the intensity of sensation that surged through her.

  ‘Elana,’ he said, making a claim she was more than happy to accept.

  The passionate delight he summoned from her flung her into a realm of experience completely beyond anything she’d ever imagined, into a sensory rapture where nothing but Niko and she existed, where nothing was more important than giving—and taking.

  Because as she crested, as fulfilment hurled her into a blazing ecstasy, he followed.

  And then he turned and held her against him while their heartbeats slowed together, and Elana realised with bleak foreboding what she’d just done.

  Of course she couldn’t be in love with him, but the wild ecstasy of their lovemaking had somehow crashed through the barriers she’d set up. Stupidly, she’d put her heart at risk.

  An icy chill had her pull away. He let her go and rolled over onto his back, but she knew he was watching her.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she told him, keeping her voice steady with an effort.

  ‘You’re sure?’ No warmth in his voice. No emotion at all.

  She hated that tone. Loathed it with an intensity that made her shudder.

  ‘You’re cold,’ he said, and got up from the bed.

  Elana hauled up the sheet to cover her nakedness and closed her eyes against him as he dressed, tall and beautifully built, so experienced in making love that he’d taken her to a voluptuous paradise—a paradise so heartbreakingly seductive she’d be crazy to revisit it.

  Her eyes flew open as she felt a blanket being spread over her.

  Fully dressed, Niko asked, ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said numbly, wishing he’d leave—and longing for him to stay.

  ‘I’ll go now. Will you be able to sleep?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she repeated, with less than her normal assurance. She managed to produce another smile. ‘I’m fine. Really.’

  To emphasise her control, she reached out and grabbed her light summer dressing gown from its usual position over the back of the chair beside the bed, and without looking at him got into it. ‘I’ll lock the door after you,’ she said, and forced herself to meet his hard gaze without flinching.

  Right then she wanted him gone, so she could recover and become the woman she’d always been, not the reckless, foolish one who’d surrendered to such wild ecstasy in his arms.

  He nodded, and turned towards the door. Bare-footed, more tense than she’d ever been in her life, she paced across the living room in front of him. At the door she turned to face him with head held high, and said, ‘Goodnight.’

  * * *

  It sounded like goodbye. Niko looked down at her.

  Gone was the woman who’d come alive in his arms, under his touch. She’d retreated into herself as though the flimsy dressing gown were a suit of armour. He had to staunch a fever of desire, an instinct to pull her into his arms and banish that calm control, see her again as she had been in his arms, wild and sensual and recklessly passionate.

  Cool air rushed in, carrying with it the salt of the sea and the scent of the gardens and the coastal bush. Recalled to some sort of sanity, he asked, ‘Before I go, what’s happening to your car?’

  ‘Phil will get a tow truck to take it away. I’ll contact my insurance company tomorrow morning.’

  Assailed once more by that infuriating, baseless irritation, Niko said more curtly than he intended, ‘If there’s anything I can do, let me know.’

  Her head came up and he caught a flash of fire in her eyes as she returned, ‘Thank you, but I’ll cope.’

  Niko took a couple of steps through the doorway, then turned. Most of the women in his life—including the mother whose one independent act had been her impetuous marriage to his father—relished being looked after, and expected it to include an existence of pampered indulgence...

  Somehow he couldn’t see Elana living such a life. Her independence was an integral part of her.

  ‘It’s just part of being a good neighbour,’ he said smoothly, and watched colour heat her cheekbones as her lashes fluttered down a moment, then lifted.

  ‘I—sorry—’ She swallowed. Another pause, then more steadily, her tone crisp, ‘But I am perfectly capable of running my own life.’

  A fierce desire gripped Niko, but this time the strongly sexual hunger was tempered by an emotion he’d never experienced before, a bewildering urge to make the world safe for her. His muscles tensed with the instinct to reach out, pull her into his arms and tell her that from now on nothing would ever cause her grief.

  He had to call on every bit of discipline, of the control he prided himself on, before he could step backwards into the safety of the semi-darkness outside and say levelly, ‘That’s obvious. Am I harassing you?’

  Startled, she hesitated, then admitted briefly, ‘No—not really.’

  ‘Will it be harassment if I ask Patty West to run you into Waipuna tomorrow morning?’ he asked, his voice cool. ‘I’m sure she’ll have supplies to buy at the supermarket.’

  She said, ‘I guess—’ Then smiled wryly. ‘That would be all right, and it would be all right if you drove me in too. I just don’t like being out-manoeuvred.’

  ‘Nobody,’ he told her crisply, ‘enjoys that. All right, if your friend can’t get a hire car to you tomorrow morning, ring the homestead and either I or Patty will take you in and collect you after work. Goodnight, Elana, and thank you. Sleep well.’

  * * *

  He turned and strode down the path. Shaken, she held the door open to provide light for him as he walked to his car, then closed it behind him with all the firmness she could muster, although her hand trembled as she locked it.

  Why on earth had he thanked her? For the sex?

  Had he thanked his other lovers, those elegant, famous creatures he’d taken to bed?

  And why on earth had she allowed herself to surrender? When he’d looked at her with that narrowed, unsparing gaze she should have realised how close she was to losing control. Instead, something wild and irresponsible in her had responded with an intensity that now seemed shocking.

  Yet even recalling that forbidden hunger made her shiver with remembered ecstasy.

  Once the sound of the car engine died away on the cool, sea-scented night air she drew a deep breath and looked around, feeling as though her world had been tipped on its head. At least she could strive for some sort of normality by washing the mugs they’d used for coffee.

  She’d been stupid, telling herself she was safe because she didn’t love Count Niko Radcliffe. That had been a coward’s way of yielding to a hunger she should have scotched when she first felt it.

  Whatever sort of man he was, for her he was danger personified.

  ‘Oh, grow up and stop being over-dramatic,’ she said aloud. ‘He’s used to being chased by women—perhaps he was angry that you made it clear you weren’t going to—’

  She stopped. Going to what? Going to surrender? Going to provide him the sort of interlude he perhaps expected? Going to forget everything her mother had told her about men who wanted to control, not love?

  ‘Stop obsessing about him,’ she commanded, washing one of the coffee mugs with so much vigour the handle cracked and fell into her hand. It was her mother’s favourite, decorated with painted pansies.

  Furious at her carelessness, she stared at it and told herself to think about organising the insurance tomorrow, work out how she was going to get enough money to reroof the house, to think about—think about—oh, think about anything other than her magnetic, dangerous, overbearing neighbour.

  She might always regret that she’d surrendered to that mindless hung
er, but she’d make sure it never happened again.

  And quite possibly Niko could be telling himself exactly the same thing...

  * * *

  At the top of the hill that separated Mana Station from Elana’s land, Niko stamped on the brakes and stopped the car just over the cattle stop between the stone pillars. Once out he closed the door and stood frowning over the moon-silvered estuary, trying to draw some peace from it. He’d bought Mana Station because a part of him—perhaps inherited from his father, or from the care that the farmers of San Mari took of their land—made him want to bring it back into life.

  Something about farming, about caring for land, about producing food for people, satisfied a deep need in him, as it had for his father. In ten years’ time Mana Station would be as it should always have been, green and lush, beautiful and productive.

  His gaze swept the moonlit slopes of hills that had once been small volcanoes, lingering on the scars of creeks that were already fenced, and would soon be planted with native trees that would eventually help keep the estuary clear of eroded soil.

  Why in hell had he lost control tonight? Dammit, what was it about Elana Grange that stripped him of his usual self-discipline? And why had making love with her seemed so...so what?

  The only word that came to mind was transcendental. Shocked, he took a couple of steps away from the car and dragged in a deep breath. Whatever Elana roused in him went far deeper than ordinary sexual desire. It smashed through his willpower. He’d made the decision to keep his distance—the right decision—because he didn’t want to hurt her. Admittedly, she’d had previous experience, but the sort of relationships he’d indulged in previously now seemed sordid and almost cynical.

  Yet he’d capitulated to a need that almost made him afraid. Even now, at the memory of her ardently passionate response the fierce hunger that should have been sated stirred into life.

  And he was gripped by that growing need to make sure she was safe, to protect her from everything that might cause her pain.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ONCE SHE’D SHOWERED away every trace of Niko Radcliffe and remade her bed with fresh sheets, Elana crawled into bed and lay for hours gazing through the darkness at the ceiling, bitterly aware that she was never going to be able to sleep in this bed again without remembering the blissful, impassioned time she’d spent in Niko’s arms.

  He might be accustomed to one-night stands, but she wasn’t.

  Eventually she did fall asleep, but she dreamt of him, a weird jumble of scenes, the memory of which made her blush with chagrin the next morning while she got ready for work.

  And she had to stop this right now. She had other, more vital things to worry about.

  Like ringing Ted and hiring one of his cars.

  Only to learn that he had no available vehicles. Fate, it seemed, was determined to force her to rely—at least for the day—on Niko. She set the phone down, then picked up her lipstick and glowered at her reflection in the mirror. Her gaze met a subtly different woman from the one she’d seen there yesterday morning. Somehow her lips were fuller, and her expression held a languorous softness she’d never seen before.

  ‘You’re imagining things,’ she told her reflection severely. ‘Making love—no, sex—wouldn’t change the way you look! It didn’t before.’

  But her previous experience with the man she’d once believed she loved bore no resemblance to the wildfire storm of sensation she’d experienced in Niko’s arms. There, she’d learned what utter ecstasy could do—summon a kind of rebirth, a rediscovery of herself. He’d set her alight, changed her for ever.

  At the memory a primitive excitement stirred inside her.

  ‘Cool it,’ she ordered beneath her breath, frowning belligerently before she turned away. ‘It’s not going to happen again.’

  Reluctantly she rang Mana homestead, dreading the thought of being answered by Niko.

  Fortunately it was the housekeeper, who said immediately, ‘I was just about to ring you. The boss said you’d need a ride into Waipuna and back again this evening. What time do you want to leave?’

  Elana told her, then finished with, ‘I’m sorry to break into your day—I’m hoping to be able to hire a car tomorrow. Thanks very much.’

  Mrs West laughed. ‘No problem, and you’d better thank Niko.’

  Her mood a bit lighter, Elana hung up.

  Although glad that neither of the two men who’d stolen her car had been badly hurt, she couldn’t help vengefully wishing she could have ten minutes alone with them. It wasn’t going to happen, so she had to get Steve’s car on the road again. She rang the mechanic, who said he’d be there about five-thirty that afternoon.

  ‘That’s fine; I’ll be home by then.’

  * * *

  He went over the engine carefully, then straightened up and slammed down the bonnet.

  Shaking his head, he told her not unsympathetically, ‘Quite frankly, Elana, this heap of rust isn’t worth fixing. I’m not even going to try. It will never be roadworthy—and money spent on it would buy you a decent second-hand car. Your best bet is to get the scrap-metal guy to take it away.’

  She hesitated before asking, ‘Have you had a chance to look at my own car? Phil told me it’s at your workshop.’

  ‘Yes. It’s salvageable.’

  Relief flooded through her. ‘When do you think it will be ready?’

  He shrugged. ‘Can’t give you a definite date. It’s an insurance job so it will take at least several days, possibly more than a week.’

  Elana winced, but thanked him and waved him goodbye before ringing Ted at the hire company. To her relief, he’d found a car she could hire for the next couple of days.

  ‘But probably only for a few days,’ he warned. ‘Things are getting busy right now—school holidays, you know.’

  Spirits lifting slightly, she thanked him, hung up and slathered her arms and legs and nose with sunscreen lotion before going outside to weed the vegetable garden.

  Hiring a car for any length of time would eat into her savings and right then, with the roof needing attention, she didn’t need that.

  It would be so simple—so economical—so sensible to accept Niko’s offer.

  Sighing, she noticed that snails had done vicious damage to the lettuce plants she’d put in several weeks ago. On her way to the garden shed to pick up slug bait, she stopped when she heard a car coming down the drive. Niko’s large four-wheel-drive vehicle turned the corner.

  Blood pounded in her ears as though she’d been running a marathon. The tension gripping her was intensified by the caressing breeze that whispered across her bare arms and legs. Regretting the elderly pair of denim shorts she should have thrown out a couple of years ago, and a faded, even older T-shirt in a colour that didn’t suit her, she waited and tried to regulate her breathing.

  The big vehicle slowed to a halt in the turning circle. Niko got out and her heart twisted. It took a real effort of will to summon a casual, neighbourly smile.

  One glance told her this was not the tenderly passionate lover of the previous night. She braced herself as he got out, and said in her most cheerful tone, ‘Hello.’

  It sounded false. And lame. And stupid.

  He narrowed his eyes and demanded, ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said automatically.

  He stopped—too close—and subjected her to an unsparing scrutiny. ‘Liar.’

  When Elana stiffened, he said, ‘Tell me what’s worrying you.’

  ‘Why?’ And immediately regretted it. How did he reduce her to a defiant teenager?

  ‘Because I might be able to help.’

  Now he sounded like that teenager’s out-of-patience parent. When Elana hesitated, he went on coolly, ‘Independence is all very well, but refusing help is cutting off your nose to spite your face.’

  She drew in a sharp breath and looked up. Drat the man, he was smiling! Something odd—a fiercely exultant twist of sensation—quickened her he
art, weakened her knees, and throbbed deep inside her, summoning needs she needed to ignore.

  In her best brisk, no-nonsense tone, she said, ‘If you must know, I’ve just found out that Steve’s car is not a viable proposition.’ She looked up and finished in a voice she tried to keep unconcerned, ‘Not worth fixing.’

  He frowned. ‘So how are you planning to deal with that?’

  ‘I’ve just been speaking to Ted, and he’s managed to organise a car for me for the rest of the week.’ She added with a smile that held more wryness than humour, ‘And the wreckers will take Steve’s old jalopy away.’ She added, ‘I don’t seem to be having much luck with vehicles, but I’m hoping it’s just a passing phase.’

  And was startled when Niko laughed in genuine amusement. It changed his face entirely. Not exactly softening it—his features were too strong and striking for that—but the warmth increased his powerful male magnetism.

  So much so that she found herself almost shivering in the sunlight. Go back to being the domineering man you really are, she told him silently.

  Like this, he was altogether too much, and her foolish, impressionable heart was softening, melting...

  ‘A passing phase? I imagine everyone you know is hoping that too,’ he told her, still smiling. ‘Mrs Nixon, for one.’

  Elana relaxed a little, but asked suspiciously, ‘Have you been talking to her?’

  ‘She’s been talking to me,’ he told her.

  She frowned. ‘She’s a dear, but she worries too much about me.’

  ‘Possibly she feels that someone has to worry about you.’

  ‘It’s not necessary,’ she told him.

  Her distant tone should have warned him off but he said, ‘She told me you have no family.’

  Frown deepening, she shrugged. ‘Well, none that I know of. My mother grew up in care, and Steve was English. He never said anything about a family.’

  ‘What about your birth father?’

  A few seconds of silence preceded her abrupt answer. ‘As far as I know, none.’ This time, her tone was definitely aloof.

  Hard eyes hooded, Niko said, ‘It’s just as well you have Mrs Nixon, then. I’ve just had a call from the Prime Minister’s office; I have a meeting with him in Wellington. After that I’m flying to the Maldives.’