Flora's Defiance

by Lynne Graham

  Brilliant sapphire-blue eyes sought out hers in a sudden assault. ‘I still want you in my bed, enamorada mia.’

  In the aftermath of what they had just found out, Flora was startled by his candour. That bold husky reiteration sent tiny quivers of awareness darting through her tense body. His potent emphasis shook her as, removed from his radius, Flora had once again stopped seeing herself as a sexual being. Soft pink mouth opening, her tongue slid out to moisten her dry lower lip.

  ‘You are so hot,’ Angelo growled thickly, and he bent his proud dark head to crush her lips under his, his tongue delving into the moist and tender interior with a darting erotic finesse that sent the blood drumming madly through her veins and brought her hands up to clutch at his arms.

  Responses that had bothered Flora in uneasy dreams that even she could not control leapt straight back to life. A squirming, curling heat shimmered low in her pelvis, dispatching tingling warmth to private places. Her nipples pinched into stiff straining crests and the tender flesh at the heart of her dampened while she held her body taut in defiance of that response.

  ‘I want you,’ Angelo husked, running his sensual mouth down her slender neck in a way that made her shiver violently, while his hand reached below her top to toy with the engorged peak of one breast.

  In one urgent motion Flora jerked free and contrived to move a good two feet from him. Wide-eyed and flushed, she muttered hurriedly, ‘No!’

  His ebony lashes dipped low over his extraordinary jewel-bright eyes. ‘I’m sorry. You excite me so much that I even contrived to forget that you aren’t well.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ Flora framed before she could think better of it, wanting to shut the door, as it were, but not bar and lock it for ever. Even with all her hormones leaping and bounding like spring rabbits through her rebellious body, she would not have confessed why she had drawn back from him. Being ill or unwilling had nothing to do with it. As she smoothed down her top wild horses would not have forced her to admit that she had had to put some space between them before he discovered that she was wearing an industrial-strength bra with a line of hooks and thick straps. You excite me? Well, he would not have retained that impression for long, she reflected with a shrinking quiver of embarrassment. At the same time she was helplessly thrilled that he still appeared to find her sexually attractive.

  ‘Just not now,’ she added, striving to add a discreet hint of encouragement for the future while her face burned hotter than a fire. ‘In Amsterdam.’

  ‘So, you’ll come back with me,’ Angelo breathed with intense satisfaction.

  And Flora could not meet his questioning gaze, because there was something about him that made her so ridiculously impulsive and, incredibly, unbelievably, she had just agreed to move in with him without thinking it through in triplicate and over the space of at least a week of sleepless nights. And now, if she immediately took the declaration back, he would think she was a total airhead who didn’t know what she was doing or saying. Dismayed by a recklessness that ran contrary to her usual nature, however, she could not withstand the urge to try and backtrack. ‘My pets would have to come with me as well and I would have an enormous amount of packing to do even for a short stay.’

  ‘I’ll organise everything for you. I don’t want you tiring yourself out.’

  ‘I don’t know if I can live with you …’

  Long brown fingers tilted up her chin so that she collided with his cerulean-blue gaze in which ferocious determination was writ large. ‘But it costs nothing to try …‘

  Flora disagreed but she kept the thought to herself. She didn’t want to get used to him being around if he wasn’t going to stay with her. She didn’t want to fall for him. She didn’t want to get hurt. She had put all her eggs in one basket with Peter and at the end of the day had turned out to be anything but his ideal woman. Would she ever be any man’s ideal woman? If she had not fallen pregnant, would Angelo be inviting her to move in with him? Would she even have heard from him again? Worrying along those mortifying lines sent a cold chill through her and severely wounded her pride.

  ‘You do way too much agonising over things,’ Angelo informed her abruptly, one hand closing over hers, his vivid azure gaze narrowed and intense on her expressive face. ‘We have four children to consider now,’ he stressed. ‘If you can’t be optimistic, at least attempt to be practical.’

  His advice engulfed her like a landslide and was even less welcome. Practical was a very dirty word to Flora at that instant. She did not want Angelo van Zaal to settle for her because she was carrying his triplets and also happened to be Mariska’s aunt. She needed more; she desperately longed to be wanted for herself.

  ‘I don’t want to be practical … I want to be loved,’ Flora admitted gruffly before she could lose her nerve and duck making that very personal admission.

  Angelo gave her a look of complete exasperation as if she had suggested something utterly outrageous. ‘I’ve never been in love in my life!’

  It was Flora’s turn to raise her brows. ‘Never? ‘ she pressed in disbelief.

  ‘Not since I succumbed to an infatuation as a teenager,’ Angelo derided, his wide sensual mouth curling.

  It was depressing news but it also gave Flora a very strong desire to slap him. ‘I suppose you don’t believe in love?’

  ‘I believe in lust.’

  Flora flattened her lips into an unimpressed line and lifted her chin in silent challenge.

  ‘Go on, confess,’ Angelo murmured with silken scorn. ‘You fell madly in love with me that day on the houseboat and that’s the only reason you slept with me!’

  In receipt of that sardonic crack, Flora was so desperate to slap him and working so hard to restrain that urge that she trembled. ‘I’m afraid I still can’t explain why I slept with you.’

  ‘Lust,’ Angelo told her with immense assurance.

  Flora’s self-control snapped clean through as if he had jumped on it. ‘Well, if that’s all we’ve got together, I’m not coming to Amsterdam. I can find lust anywhere with a one-night stand and I don’t need to leave the country to do it!’

  Angelo shot her a blistering look of dazzling blue fury and frustration. ‘You’re being totally unreasonable—I can’t give you love. I can respect you, care for you, like you and lust after you, but don’t make a demand I can’t hope to meet!’

  Respect, care, like, lust, she enumerated and her chin came up even higher. ‘Why not? What’s wrong with me?’ she shot back at him baldly.

  Her obstinacy in sticking to her point sent Angelo’s temper shooting up the scale. ‘Nothing is wrong with you. I just don’t do love and romance! ‘

  Flora lifted and dropped her slim shoulders in a shrug of finality. ‘Well, I feel too young and lively to settle for respect and liking!’

  Angelo ground his even white teeth together and mentally counted to ten. It didn’t help him overcome the suspicion that she kept on raising the bar he had to reach to heights he had no desire to aspire to. ‘No matter what I offer you, it’s never enough!’

  ‘Be warned: our differences cut both ways. I might come and live with you and then fall madly in love with some other guy,’ Flora pointed out dulcetly.

  ‘No, you won’t, enamorada mia,’ Angelo told her with ferocious cool. ‘I won’t give you that kind of freedom.’

  Her eyes danced with provocation. ‘You work long hours. Are you planning to lock me up every night in the cellar?’

  ‘No. I plan to keep you far too busy in bed! ‘ Angelo ground out. ‘You won’t have the energy to chase other men.’

  ‘How do I know you’re not all talk and no action?’ Flora tossed back before she could think better of it.

  His mouth closed over hers again with passionate punitive force. He crushed her to his lean, powerful body and her every skin cell leapt with sensual energy, sensation swelling her breasts and sentencing her to a bone-deep ache between her thighs. He kissed her until she was breathless and trembling and strung high
on a hunger more powerful than any she had ever known. To catch her breath she had to tear her mouth from his and she was so weak in the aftermath with the lust she had decried that she bowed her brow down on his shoulder while she fought to get a hold on herself again. He had the power to turn her inside out with a single kiss and the awareness shocked her.

  ‘I’m just warning you,’ she contrived to trade in a final assault. ‘Lust isn’t enough for me and if I meet someone else who—’

  Angelo rested a long brown finger against her parted lips to silence her, his narrowed gaze bright and fierce. ‘I will make it enough, enamorada mia,’ he told her rawly.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LITTLE more than a week after having that conversation, Flora received a visit from her friend, Jemima, whom she had not seen for several months. Jemima was married to Alejandro, a Spanish aristocrat, with whom she had two children, Alfie and Candida. Flora had got into the habit of visiting the family at their castle in Spain until Mariska had become an orphan, from which time Flora’s trips abroad had taken her to see her niece in the Netherlands instead.

  Before she arrived, Jemima, a tiny beautiful blonde with big blue eyes, was already aware that Flora had fallen pregnant. Brought up to speed on the latest developments, Jemima was quick to offer her opinion. ‘Of course you should move to Amsterdam and give the relationship a chance. If everything works out between you and Angelo it will be wonderful for your niece and for those babies you’re carrying.’

  At that advice, Flora grimaced. ‘But what if it doesn’t work out?’

  ‘That’s a risk you have to take. When Alejandro and I reconciled I didn’t want to take that risk either,’ Jemima admitted to her friend, referring to the reality that she and her husband had lived apart for a couple of years before having a second go at making their marriage work for the sake of their son, Alfie. ‘You’re scared of being hurt. You’re afraid to let your life go here in England, but you have to take those chances before you can find out if you and Angelo are meant to be together.’

  ‘What happened between us was just an accident,’ Flora argued ruefully. ‘I don’t think Angelo and I are meant to be together.’

  ‘Flora, you haven’t trusted a man since your engagement to Peter bit the dust,’ Jemima remarked ruefully.

  Flora sighed. ‘It’s probably been even longer than that. My father being a womaniser predates Peter, and that’s the problem with Angelo—’

  ‘He’s a womaniser too?’ Jemima interrupted with a frown of dismay.

  ‘I don’t know about that.’ Flora groaned and pulled a face. ‘He’s a gorgeous-looking guy and he’s single and rich, so of course he’s had a lot of women in his life. But he doesn’t believe in love or romance. Strikes me he’s a commitment-phobe.’

  ‘Yet he clearly loves Mariska, or he wouldn’t be so determined to bring her up, so I wouldn’t give up hope on him yet. A child is a very big commitment for a single man to take on,’ Jemima pointed out thoughtfully. ‘He’s also doing everything he can to support you and he clearly wants the triplets as well. Full marks for him on that score.’

  ‘I’m not saying that he doesn’t have an admirable side to his nature. I mean, it’s obvious that he really likes kids,’ Flora conceded grudgingly.

  ‘And fancies the socks off you,’ Jemima chipped in. ‘Or you wouldn’t be in the condition you’re in now. He’d be keeping more distance between you if he didn’t want a relationship with you. I think his inviting you to share his home with him is quite a statement for a so-called commitment-phobe.’

  Encouraged by her friend to look at the more positive side of Angelo’s invitation, Flora began to come to terms with her seemingly impulsive decision. She was starting to appreciate that something a good deal stronger than impulse had prompted her to accept Angelo’s proposition. In her heart of hearts she recognised that, in spite of her fears, she did truly want to have the courage to take a chance on Angelo. He might often infuriate her but she did find him hugely attractive and stimulating company. He was the first man since Peter to make her feel that sense of connection and she wanted and needed to explore that in greater depth.

  Three days after Jemima’s departure, a professional firm arrived to pack and transport her most cherished belongings to Amsterdam, while special travelling arrangements were made for her dog and cat. Angelo rang most days but since he was very busy and often between meetings they would only have time to speak for the space of a minute so it was never a challenge to maintain a conversation. Flora was already feeling a good deal stronger since she had cancelled her remaining guest bookings and had spoiled herself with early nights and relaxing days. She was relieved when the worst attacks of nausea almost immediately receded and her appetite began to slowly recover.

  Only three weeks after she had learned that she was carrying triplets, Flora arrived at Angelo’s Amsterdam home.

  Skipper, who had travelled over two days earlier, raced to greet her with boisterous enthusiasm and she clutched his little squirming body below one arm while the driver who had collected her off her flight brought in her suitcase. Mango the cat, Angelo’s housekeeper, Therese, informed Flora, was sleeping in his basket by the stove in the basement kitchen.

  ‘He is being spoiled a lot. Therese adores cats,’ Anke shared laughingly as she came downstairs holding Mariska.

  The little girl held out her arms to her aunt in immediate happy recognition. Flora scooped the child into a loving embrace. All the agonies of insecurity and the misgivings that had tormented Flora since she had first agreed to move to Amsterdam fell away with her niece’s first hug. As she held Mariska’s solid weight to her and felt the warmth of her smooth baby cheek against her own, Flora finally believed that she had made the right decision.

  A couple of hours later, comfortably clad in casual togs, Flora was happily sitting on a rug in the nursery building up brick towers with Mariska and toppling them again when she received an unexpected visitor.

  An elegant platinum blonde, wearing a beautiful flowing top and trousers in a shade of grey that lent an even more flattering silvery hue to her hair and porcelain complexion, rapped lightly on the ajar door to attract Flora’s attention and gave her a wide smile that showed off perfect teeth. ‘I hope you don’t mind me dropping in. I asked Therese if I could come up. When Angelo mentioned that you were arriving today I wanted to be the first to welcome you to our city,’ she said brightly.

  It was Bregitta Etten, whom she had first met in Angelo’s house on the evening of the same day that she had conceived her triplets. Angelo and Bregitta had been on the brink of going out somewhere that night but Flora had never had the courage to ask what the beautiful blonde’s exact relationship to Angelo was, and just at that moment not knowing made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. She scrambled upright while Mariska crawled round her feet and grabbed her aunt’s trouser leg to haul herself into standing position on sturdy little legs. ‘Thank you,’ Flora responded a little awkwardly, while reaching down to pat the little girl’s head soothingly.

  ‘It’s wonderful to see you with Willem’s daughter … poor little girl, such a tragedy to lose both parents at once,’ Bregitta sighed with rich sympathy. ‘Of course, when Mariska has grown up she’ll have a very large inheritance to help her come to terms with that tragic loss.’

  Taken aback by that remark and its rather mercenary tenor, Flora frowned. ‘Mariska … has an inheritance?’

  A look of surprise flared in Bregitta’s bright dark eyes. ‘Mariska will come into her father’s trust fund once she’s an adult. Didn’t you know that?’

  Rosy colour warmed Flora’s cheeks because she was embarrassed that it had not occurred to her that her niece would inherit and she also wondered why Angelo had neglected to mention it to her. Evidently Bregitta was much more informed about the van Zaal family’s private financial affairs than Flora was and in the circumstances it was a slap in the face for Flora to be confronted head-on with that reality.

  ‘Of c
ourse, had he had the opportunity Willem would have wasted his inheritance, and Mariska, just like her father before her, is a heavy responsibility for Angelo to take on.’

  Flora lifted her chin. ‘I realise that Willem had his problems,’ she commented, choosing her words with care. ‘But he was kind, he loved my sister and I liked him.’

  ‘I didn’t intend to offend you,’ Bregitta responded ruefully. ‘We Dutch simply like to be frank.’

  ‘Oh, no, you didn’t offend me!’ Flora proclaimed in haste, wondering why it was that she was finding it so hard to warm to the other woman’s apparent friendliness.

  Bregitta shook her silver-blonde head, her expression wry. ‘I shouldn’t have commented but Angelo already has so many weighty commitments in his life.’

  ‘I wouldn’t really know about that,’ Flora admitted uneasily, wondering if she with her expected progeny fell into that demeaning category as well.

  ‘Angelo just accepts it—his life has always been that way. When his father made such a disastrous second marriage, Angelo had to grow up fast, and then, of course, Katja’s accident only made it worse.’

  Katja? Who was Katja? Flora was hanging on her companion’s every word and eaten alive by curiosity, for Angelo revealed few personal facts. The marriage between Angelo’s father and Willem’s mother had been a disaster? Why? And what on earth had happened to this Katja? It did, however, set Flora’s teeth on edge that she should know so little while Bregitta evidently knew so much.

  ‘Mariska is very lucky to have you and I’m sure Angelo is extremely grateful for your assistance with her,’ Bregitta commented, frustratingly moving the dialogue on in another direction after having whetted Flora’s appetite for more information. ‘Of course, a lot of women have recently offered Angelo help and advice with childcare. There is something so touching about a man trying to raise a little girl alone, isn’t there?’