Lady Surrender

by Carole Mortimer

  She knew how he felt, could feel herself on the edge of happiness, and was so afraid it was going to be taken from her. As it had so often in the past!

  ‘Charly.’ He touched her cheek lovingly. ‘I’m going to be around for the next fifty or sixty years.’

  She smiled tearfully at his ability to guess what was troubling her. ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Well I did once have a great-aunt that lived to one hundred and three. I suppose I could try and match that.’

  ‘Please,’ she smiled at him between her tears.

  He put a hand either side of her face, cupping her cheeks. ‘I love you, Charly Hart.’

  ‘I—I—’

  ‘You can do it, Charly,’ he encouraged.

  She smiled shakily. ‘I love you, Aaron Grantley.’

  He chuckled triumphantly. ‘It will get easier with time.’ He kissed her achingly. ‘Drive carefully, but fast, hmm?’ Desire gleamed in his eyes.

  She drove badly and slowly, realising after she almost knocked one poor man off his bike that her concentration wasn’t as good as it could have been, and that if she wanted them both to get back to London in one piece she had better calm down.

  But she couldn’t help the exhilaration she felt, sure that everything was going to work out.

  As soon as her apartment door closed they fell into each others’ arms, their mouths meeting hungrily, as if they had been parted for days and not minutes.

  ‘Enough, woman.’ Aaron finally put her away from him, his breathing ragged, his eyes dark. ‘Stop trying to seduce me!’

  She gave a splutter of laughter, questioning who had been seducing who!

  ‘God, you’re beautiful when you laugh.’ His arms closed about her as he crushed her to him. ‘I want you to laugh a lot when we’re married,’ he told her intently. ‘I want you to be so happy you can’t stop laughing!’

  She clung to him, so happy now she didn’t think she could be any happier.

  ‘Now, we’re going to talk.’ He held her firmly away from him. ‘I’ll talk,’ he told her. ‘You interrupt me if I go wrong. Okay?’

  She was too full of emotion to want to talk now, and he knew it.

  They sat down on the sofa together, Aaron’s arm about her shoulders as he began to talk. ‘After your parents died you were lonely and confused, James Hart took advantage of that loneliness and married you to gain full control of Hartall Industries.’

  ‘I thought I loved him,’ she admitted huskily.

  ‘You mean he wanted you to think that,’ Aaron corrected grimly. ‘It wasn’t a happy marriage—’ He looked down at her questioningly as she made a murmur of protest. ‘Correction, it did have one happy aspect,’ he said gently. ‘Stephanie. After years of indulging himself in fleeting affairs Hart decided he wanted to marry your cousin. But he didn’t want to lose the company, not even a part of it, considered it belonged to him now. And so he used the love he knew you had for Stephanie to put pressure on you to agree to his terms. We both know what happened when you refused.’ His arm tightened about her. ‘Stephanie was ill in hospital for a long time—’

  ‘Two months,’ she confirmed heavily.

  ‘You and Matt became friends during that time,’ he nodded. ‘He was Stephanie’s doctor, wasn’t he?’

  She turned and buried her face in his chest. ‘She never regained consciousness.’

  ‘My poor love!’ He crushed her to him. ‘It was because you saw how Matt cared, how much he wanted Stephanie to live and get well, that you decided to provide him with a hospital that would specialise only in such patients. For months you looked for the right building, somewhere big enough to be a hospital, but comfortable enough for those patients to regard it as home while they recovered—’

  ‘How did you know that?’ she gasped.

  ‘I know you, my darling,’ he smiled. ‘I also know Matt’s opinion of nursing such patients. But once you found Shevton House you found you had a rival for its purchase, an arrogant son-of-a-bitch whose thoughts of you were usually in the sewer!’

  ‘Aaron—’

  ‘I don’t blame you for not wanting me to know why you wanted Shevton House,’ he assured her. ‘Even loving you as I do, before last night I would probably have suspected your motives.’

  ‘I thought you did anyway,’ she admitted chokingly.

  ‘I know you did,’ he nodded. ‘But after last night—’

  ‘What was so special about last night?’

  He looked down at her mockingly. ‘You mean you don’t know?’

  Colour darkened her cheeks. ‘Well of course I know. But—’

  ‘Sweetheart, last night you gave yourself to me time and time again, exposed your inner emotions and needs, something I knew you would never do unless you loved me. Also, I made love to a woman who hadn’t been made love to in a very long time—if ever. Oh, I know you slept with your husband, you had Stephanie, after all. But it wasn’t what we had together last night.’

  ‘No,’ she acknowledged openly.

  ‘Last night was love, for both of us. And so when Molly thanked you for giving Matt the chance to have his own hospital to specialise in I knew it had nothing to do with a close relationship between the two of you. For a while I was a little puzzled, but once I’d realised which house it was you were giving to Matt I worked it all out.’ He grimaced. ‘So much for my idea of it being a love-nest for the two of you! I have to admit I was a little put out at first that you hadn’t trusted me with the truth, but once I thought about that some more I asked myself why the hell should you? Here was a woman who had been used and abused by one man, who had little reason to trust anyone, so why should she trust a man who does nothing but insult her!’

  ‘I do trust you, Aaron.’

  ‘Then it’s about time I started earning that trust!’

  ‘Darling, it wasn’t your fault.’ She touched his cheek lovingly. ‘I could have cleared up many of our misunderstandings if I had cared to. But I didn’t want to become involved again, so I deliberately let you think the worst of me. And then once I realised I loved you it seemed almost too late to put things right.’

  ‘It will never be too late between us,’ he told her forcefully. ‘Although we are going to have to start confiding things to each other a bit more.’

  ‘About Friday—’

  ‘Yes?’ He tensed.

  She gave him a glowing smile. ‘Can’t we make it any sooner?’

  ‘Lady!’ His eyes darkened. ‘As far as I’m concerned we’ve been married since last night.’

  It was the way she felt too, knew that they had become two parts of a whole last night when they had given themselves to each other time and time again.

  ‘Are you sure you won’t mind having a working wife?’ she asked tentatively.

  ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ he answered instantly.

  She should have known that would be his answer. Aaron was a man who would never suppress or suffocate her, who would just love her for what she was.

  * * *

  ‘You were the one who said “now isn’t the time to be talking about children”,’ Aaron reminded her anxiously.

  Charly rested between the strong contractions, the two of them having arrived at the hospital just over three hours ago, she insisting on leaving it until the last minute before coming in.

  It wouldn’t be long now before their baby was born, and then Aaron would quickly forget all the worry he was feeling now. ‘Darling—’ she broke off as another contraction gripped her, squeezing his hand until his fingers looked bloodless, although he didn’t make a move of protest, sharing her pain. The contraction had been even stronger this time, quicker too; it wouldn’t be long now. ‘I didn’t mean for us not to think about them at all,’ she teased.

  Almost nine months after their wedding their first child was being born, and both of them were convinced it had been conceived that weekend at Molly and Matt’s. Aaron had been actively involved in the preparations for the birth and afterwar
ds since the beginning, but none of the classes they had attended together seemed to have prepared him for this moment.

  She gasped as another contraction gripped her, knowing the birth was imminent as it went on and on, doing her best to help their child make its entrance into the world, feeling the exhilarating relief as the baby was born in a sudden rush of activity, the look on the doctor’s face enough to tell her everything was all right with the baby.

  ‘It’s a boy, Charly,’ Aaron choked as he stood up to look at his son. ‘My God, it’s a boy!’

  She smiled through her exhaustion, sitting up enough with Aaron’s help to look at her son for the first time. He was smoothly round, had a beautiful face, and a shock of golden hair.

  ‘A healthy seven pounds four ounces,’ the nurse told her as she handed the blanket-wrapped baby to Charly.

  She held the baby to her gently, slightly shaky still from the birth, awed by the perfection of her son. ‘He’s beautiful,’ she said tearfully.

  ‘Almost as beautiful as his mother.’ Aaron’s own cheeks were damp as she handed the baby to him. ‘Daniel Aaron Matthew Grantley,’ he murmured softly, the baby asleep in his arms. ‘Quite a mouthful for such a little man.’

  ‘He’ll grow into it.’ Charly smiled, moved by how deeply she loved this man and was loved in return by him, and how much they would both love their son. The nine months of their marriage had been happy ones—more than happy, ecstatic! She hadn’t believed there could be such happiness. Daniel made everything perfect.

  ‘Congratulations,’ the doctor smiled. ‘I’ll see you again next year,’ he teased before leaving.

  ‘Like hell he will!’ Aaron rasped.

  Charly smiled tiredly. ‘I thought you wanted three or four?’

  ‘I’ve changed my mind.’ He handed Daniel back to the nurse to be washed, holding Charly’s hand. ‘I had no idea what you would have to go through.’ A frown marred his brow. ‘Daniel is enough for me.’

  ‘I don’t believe in only children,’ she teased.

  ‘We’ll borrow Lucy, Tommy, and Sara for weekends,’ he answered instantly. ‘They can keep Daniel company.’

  ‘Coward,’ she laughed softly.

  His hand tightened on hers. ‘How could you want to go through that again?’

  ‘Quite easily,’ she said ruefully.

  ‘We’ll talk about it once you’re stronger,’ he compromised.

  ‘Just talk about it?’ she teased.

  ‘Nurse, are all new mothers as sexy as this?’ He turned to the other woman, Daniel all snuggled down in the clear-sided crib.

  She laughed. ‘Only when they have husbands as handsome as you!’

  Charly joined in the laughter as he was the one to look embarrassed. ‘I love you, Aaron Grantley.’

  ‘I love you, Charly Grantley. We finally got the name right,’ he said with satisfaction.

  She felt her lids begin to droop tiredly. ‘Charly Grantley does sound rather nice.’

  ‘I thought so,’ he nodded smugly.

  ‘Perfect…’ She fell asleep, her world perfect at last.

  * * * * *

  Now, read on for a tantalizing excerpt of New York Times bestselling author Maisey Yates’s new release,

  THE PRINCE’S CAPTIVE VIRGIN

  The first book in her new Once Upon a Seduction…series!

  Ruthless prince Adam Katsaros offers Belle a deal—he’ll release her father if she becomes his mistress! Adam’s gaze awakens a heated desire in Belle. Her innocent beauty might redeem his royal reputation—but can she tame the beast inside?

  Read on to get a glimpse of

  THE PRINCE’S CAPTIVE VIRGIN

  CHAPTER ONE

  Once upon a time…

  BELLE LOOKED up at the imposing castle and tightened her coat more firmly around her petite frame. It was surprisingly chilly tonight on the small island country nestled in the Aegean Sea between Greece and Turkey.

  Of course, when she had first heard of Olympios she had been put in mind of the Mediterranean. Bright white homes and searing blue skies and seas. And perhaps, in the daytime, that was what it was. But here at night, with the velvet darkness settled low around her and that damp air blowing in from the ocean, it felt like something completely unexpected.

  The fortress in front of her, on the other hand, was almost far too expected. It was medieval, and nothing but the lights flickering in the window gave any indication that it might be part of the modern era. Of course, she could expect nothing less from a man who had gone to such great lengths to seek revenge on a photographer.

  A man who had captured her father in the act of taking pictures and imprisoned him to get revenge for something as innocuous as photographs that were set to be published without his permission.

  Belle supposed that she should be afraid. After all, Prince Adam Katsaros had proven to be unreasonable. He had proven to be inhumane. But she was bolstered by the same rage that had infused her veins from the moment she had first heard of her father’s fate, even now.

  It seemed that she was insulated from fear, which was strange considering she’d spent a lot of her life feeling afraid of almost everything. Of losing her father and the haven she’d found with him after her mother had abandoned her when she was four years old. Of the potential inside herself to become a tempestuous, selfish creature driven by passions of the flesh, as her mother had been and probably still was.

  All that fear was gone now. Had been from the moment she had first boarded her plane in LA, all the way through her layover in Greece, and through the flight that carried her here to Olympios.

  She could only hope that her bravado lasted.

  Tony was going to be so mad when he found out she’d done this. Her boyfriend of nearly eight months had always wanted to be more involved in her life. But she resisted. Just like she’d been resisting serious physical intimacy. That was part of all her fear stuff.

  She’d never had a boyfriend before, and she was accustomed to her space and her independence. Surrendering any of it just didn’t sit well with her.

  Which was an ironic thought, considering what she was prepared to do here today.

  She was surprised to find that the palace was more or less unguarded. There was no one about as she walked up the steps that led to a rough-hewn double door. She was tempted—not for the first time since her arrival on the island—to check and see if her phone calendar had been set back into the last century. Or, perhaps, a few centuries ago.

  She lifted her hand, unsure as to whether or not one knocked on doors like this. In the end, she decided to grasp hold of the iron ring and pull it open. It creaked and groaned with the effort, as though no one had dared enter the large, imposing building in quite some time. However, she knew that they had. Because only a few days ago her father had been brought here. And—if rumor was to be believed—he was being imprisoned on the property.

  She took a cautious step inside, surprised by the warmth that greeted her. It was dark, except for some wall sconces that were lit across the room. The great stone antechamber possessed nothing like the sort of comforts she would have expected from a palace. Not that she was in the habit of being admitted into palaces.

  No, the little seaside home she and her father lived in in Southern California was as far from a palace as it was possible to get. It wasn’t even Rodeo Drive.

  But this wasn’t exactly what she had expected from royalty. In spite of her lack of experience, she did have expectations. She might never have been admitted into the lavish homes and parties that celebrities threw in Beverly Hills, but her father’s business was photographing those events. So she had a visual familiarity with them, even if it wasn’t based in experience.

  “Hello?” she called out into the dim chamber, vaguely aware that that might not have been the best idea the moment the word left her mouth and ricocheted off the stone walls. But, that adrenaline that had wrapped itself around her like an impenetrable suit of armor remained. She had a mission, and
she was not going to be frightened out of carrying it out.

  Once the prince understood, he would be more than happy to return her father to her custody. She was certain. Once he understood about her father’s health.

  “Hello?” she called again. Still nothing.

  She heard a soft sound, footsteps on the flagstone floor, and she turned toward a corridor that was at the far left of the room, just in time to see a tall, slender man walking toward her. “Are you lost, kyria?”

  His tone was soft and kind, faintly accented and nothing like the harsh, brutal surroundings that she found herself in. Nothing at all like she had imagined finding here in this medieval keep.

  “No,” she said, “I’m not lost. My name is Belle Chamberlain and I looking for my father. Mark Chamberlain. He’s being held here by the Prince…and I…I don’t think he understands.”

  The servant—at least, that’s what she assumed he was—took a step closer to her, his expression becoming clearer as he moved nearer. He looked…concerned. “Yes. I know about that. It is, perhaps, best if you go, Kyria Chamberlain.”

  “No. You don’t understand. My father is ill, and he was supposed to start treatment back home in the States. He can’t be here. He can’t be…imprisoned, just because he took some photographs that the Prince doesn’t like.”

  “There is a lot here that protects the Prince’s privacy,” the man said, as though she hadn’t spoken. As though he were simply reciting from a well-memorized book. “And whatever the Prince says is…well, it is law.”

  “I’m not leaving without my father. I’m not leaving until I speak to the Prince. Also, your security is shockingly lax.” She looked around. “Nobody stopped me from entering. I imagine it was far too easy for my father to gain access to him. If he wants to keep his life private, then he should work harder at it.” The celebrities her father photographed went to great lengths to avoid his telephoto lens. She was not impressed with the setup the Prince had here.

  Perhaps it was a little bit callous of her to look at things that way. But, she had been raised the daughter of a paparazzo, and that was just the way things were. Celebrities capitalized on their images, and relied on the fact that they were public commodities. Her father was simply a part of that economy.