Flora's Defiance

by Lynne Graham

  Angelo vented a roughened laugh and dark colour demarcated his superb cheekbones. ‘I haven’t been with anyone else since I was with you.’

  Flora gave him a dazzling smile in reward and thought that he was showing great promise in the relationship stakes.

  As if wary of having made that admission, Angelo added with a frown that drew his ebony brows together, ‘I don’t know why. Other women have seemed less appealing … somehow. Perhaps it’s because—’

  ‘No, don’t spoil it by trying to explain it! ‘ Flora urged, laying her forefinger against his wide mobile lips in a silencing gesture.

  ‘I don’t think I could explain my recent weakness for a particular tall, spirited redhead but it does seem to be working out very well indeed, enamorada mia,’ Angelo murmured with satisfaction, and he sucked her finger into his mouth and laved it with his tongue while watching her with slumberous shimmering blue eyes awash with hot expectation.

  Heat swept through Flora even before he kissed her again and she responded with a fervour she could not restrain. Everything had fallen into place when she was least expecting it to do so and they had shifted into the role of lovers quite naturally. No longer was she holding back, checking out every word she spoke in advance and searching for double meanings in everything he said. She had abandoned the intense caution that had guided her and kept her heart whole and safe for several years and without that defensive barrier she did feel vulnerable. Yet turning her back on the uniformly low expectations she had of the male sex and putting Angelo into a category all of his own also left her free to enjoy being happy for a change.

  And, in the aftermath of yet another bout of passionate lovemaking, Flora was on a high such as she had never experienced with a man before. Within the hour they sat down to eat in the panelled dining room, the home of a wonderfully colourful collection of Chinese porcelain, stored in elegant white cabinets that kept the room looking airy and light. Undaunted by their earlier non-appearance, Franz had put together a chicken salad and an array of mouth-watering desserts for their enjoyment. Skipper, who snored like a little steam train, was noisily asleep beneath the table, though once the food was served he stirred a little to maintain a mistrustful if drowsy watch on Angelo’s every move.

  It was only while Flora was toying with a dessert that was a little too sweet for her taste buds that she remembered what she had meant to ask Angelo to explain earlier. Glancing up from her plate, she casually tucked a straying strand of coppery hair back behind her ear. ‘I have something I’ve been meaning to ask you …’

  Angelo studied her with a lazy smile. ‘Ask away.’

  Flora straightened her slim shoulders. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that Mariska was going to inherit your stepbrother’s trust fund?’

  And the instant she asked, she knew she had strayed into dangerous territory, for Angelo perceptibly tensed, his brilliant eyes veiling to sharp arrows of blue while his lean strong face shuttered. ‘Who told you about that?’

  ‘Bregitta Etten called in to wish me well this afternoon and she mentioned it,’ Flora explained in a rush of nervous energy. ‘Naturally it felt a little weird that I had no idea that my niece was in line to come into Willem’s money! Why was I the last to be told?’

  A heavy laden silence stretched between them like a treacherous sheet of ice that could not be crossed and mentally she told herself off for being so fanciful.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘I SAW no reason TO discuss the matter with you,’ Angelo fielded with measured cool. ‘After all, surely it was fairly obvious that my stepbrother’s trust fund would go to his only child?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose, if you think about it from that angle perhaps it was rather obvious. But it didn’t occur to me because while Willem was alive he didn’t have access to that money,’ Flora pointed out, unimpressed by his explanation, indeed smelling a rat and a cover-up in his guarded response. ‘I didn’t consider it … I genuinely had no idea.’

  ‘It is a private matter. Bregitta shouldn’t have broached the subject with you,’ Angelo remarked flatly.

  ‘But she did and it made me feel rather foolish—why was I kept in the dark?’ Flora enquired a little more forcefully, for, unless it was her imagination, Angelo’s handsome mouth had curled with a hint of scorn when she had contended that she had had no idea that her niece was an heiress. ‘Why, Angelo?’ she repeated with greater emphasis.

  Angelo expelled his breath in an impatient hiss and sprang upright to his full intimidating height, forcing her to tilt her head back to look up at him. His brilliant blue eyes collided with hers and held her gaze stubbornly fast. ‘I didn’t know for sure whether you knew about her inheritance or not, but I was concerned that your desire to adopt Mariska could be influenced by the reality that she will one day be a rich young woman. What’s more, were you now to win custody of her you would be legally able to apply to the trust fund for a sizeable income with which to raise her.’

  Flora was stunned into silence by those twin admissions. She wanted to believe that she had misheard him or taken his words up wrong, but he had left her no margin to dream of error. As always, Angelo had spoken with concise crystal clarity. Incredibly, the man she had just spent most of the evening in bed with, the man whose babies she carried in her womb, saw no shame in admitting that he thought that she might be a gold-digger. And not only that, a calculating gold-digger so shameless and hard of heart that she might be willing to use an innocent child’s birthright to enrich herself. It was equally apparent that he would not have trusted her with access to Mariska’s inheritance. Flora was absolutely horrified that he could see her in such an appalling light.

  She thrust back her own chair and stood up, the oval of her flushed and taut face reflecting her sense of angry disbelief. ‘What on earth gave you the impression that I might only want my niece because she stands to come into a substantial bequest? What did I ever do to leave you with that idea? What did I say? ‘ she demanded emotively.

  Angelo spread fluid brown hands in a wry gesture. ‘You didn’t need to do or say anything, Flora. Before Willem even married your sister, I was acquainted with, not only her past history, but also yours,’ he confessed grimly.

  Her brow indented. ‘You’re talking about that private investigator’s report that you mentioned you’d commissioned,’ she guessed, and her heart began to sink as she immediately deduced the most likely source of his reservations about her character.

  ‘I’m aware that you slept with your married boss three years ago and tried to blackmail him to gain a lucrative bonus,’ Angelo informed her flatly.

  Flora reeled back a step as though he had slapped her, but what he had just thrown in her teeth was much worse than a slap, for he had resurrected a distressing episode that she had believed had long since been laid to rest, even though it had not had a satisfactory conclusion from her point of view. To be confronted by that same episode again years later, and by someone she cared about, was an agonisingly humiliating and painful blow for her to withstand.

  ‘That is not what happened, Angelo,’ she pronounced with quiet dignity as Skipper emerged from below the table and stationed his little black and white body protectively by her feet. ‘Those malicious allegations against me were made in an employment tribunal hearing, not in a court of law, and they were not proved either. I did not sleep with my boss, nor did I try to blackmail him!’

  His lean hawkish features stamped with unhidden distaste, Angelo made a decisive movement that dismissed the thorny subject with one lean brown hand. ‘It was some years ago, Flora. I’m well aware that what is past is past and that young people in particular can and do learn from their mistakes and change.’

  The target of that extremely patronising response, Flora experienced a shot of adrenalin-charged rage, which coursed through her with such powerful effect that she was surprised that she didn’t levitate off the floor. She ground her teeth together in an effort to think before she spoke but it was hopeless. She felt bot
h betrayed and gutted. The most traumatic episode of her life had been dug up by the guy she believed she loved and she felt cheated by his distrust and gutted by his low opinion of her as a person.

  ‘I will never ever forgive you for this, Angelo,’ she said shakily, targeting him with tempestuous emerald-green eyes that shone as bright as stars in her pale face. ‘How dare you stand in judgement over me for something that I didn’t do? How dare you condescend to suggest that people change? I’ve got older but I haven’t changed one little bit. All I learned from that tribunal was not to trust people, and that when things get really really tough you’re very probably going to be left standing alone!’

  ‘I don’t think we should try to discuss this when you’re so upset,’ Angelo breathed deflatingly, registering that Skipper, a perfect illustration of Flora’s mood, was now growling and baring its teeth at him.

  ’You brought it up, you threw it at me!’ Flora reminded him with spirit. ‘You can’t deny me the right to defend myself.’

  ‘I had to explain why I was reluctant to be more frank about Mariska’s financial status. I am not denying you the right to defend—’

  ‘Of course, it’s none of your business. My past is none of your business either and I can only wish that I had kept my present in the same category!’ Flora flung in furious rejection of the choices she had recently made and Skipper, picking up on his owner’s increasing tension, started to bark noisily. ‘But when you had such a poor opinion of me, why didn’t you mention it before now? How dare you lure me over to Amsterdam to live when you think so little of me? You deceived me by staying silent …’

  ‘Tell the dog to stay out of this,’ Angelo urged with a sardonic look down at the small canine bouncing excitably round her feet and barking so loudly that Flora was now virtually shouting to be heard. ‘I had no deceptive intent.’

  ‘Well, isn’t that a surprise? Once again you try to take the moral high ground. But it doesn’t matter what you think this time. I firmly believe that I was lulled into a false sense of security and deceived by you!’ Flora slammed back at him in wrathful condemnation.

  Angelo studied her with hard blue eyes, every inch the global steel magnate whose ruthlessness had earned him substantial achievements. ‘I had no choice but to remain silent. How could you expect me to challenge you about your unsavoury past while you were carrying my children and you were unwell?’

  Flora was trembling. Even his choice of words was revealing. Her unsavoury past. Without any input from her on that issue, he had clearly tried her, judged her and condemned her as guilty. At least she now knew why she had always suspected that he disapproved of her and disliked her. Angelo van Zaal had decided that she was not to be trusted even before he first met her. She need not have worried about trusting him when it was clear that he had never trusted or in fact respected her. Indeed the very existence of her pregnancy had forced him to swallow his misgivings about her character and attempt to form a relationship with her. Was it any wonder that he had decided that the most he could offer to share with her was a bed? No doubt had he been in a position to do so, he would have happily kept his distance from her and her sleazy past, she conceded wretchedly.

  ‘I hate you,’ Flora breathed thickly, struggling to enunciate the harsh words of rejection and alienation that seemed to come from the very depths of her being. ‘And I’m leaving! ‘

  As Flora made her way towards the door Angelo was suddenly there in front of her, blocking her exit like a massive stone wall. ‘I won’t let you leave—’ ‘I’m not giving you a choice!’ Angelo stared down at her with brooding force, jewelled blue eyes shimmering like a heat haze over her defiant and resolute face. He took a step closer as if to dare her to do her worst. ‘I won’t allow it!’

  ‘Newsflash, Angelo—I don’t need your permission to leave you! ‘ Flora flung wrathfully. ‘So, get out of my way and stop trying to crowd me!’

  ’Por Dios, I insist that you calm yourself down,’ Angelo instructed in a low growl of explicit warning.

  And Flora just lost her temper at that ringing admonition, for she fiercely resented being treated like a misbehaving child when it was very much his fault that she had found herself in such an untenable situation. Did he honestly believe that they could simply continue as though nothing had happened? That she could just live with the news that he believed that she was greedy and untrustworthy with money?

  Her hurt and her anger combined in an explosive melding of emotion. She flung herself at him with knotted fists and thumped his big wide shoulders to fully illustrate her point. ‘Move!’ she yelled at the top of her voice.

  ’Madre mia!’ Angelo vented in a savage undertone as he shifted before the overexcited Skipper could bite his ankle. ‘What the hell are you playing at?’

  In the hail of her dog’s frantic bout of barking, Flora froze, her balled fists dropping back down to her sides, because somehow she had never envisaged Angelo losing his renowned cool. But Angelo’s jaw line had taken on an aggressive angle and his electrifyingly blue eyes were luminous with outrage. All of a sudden, a silent Angelo was channelling anger like an intimidating force field.

  ‘You provoked me beyond bearing,’ Flora slammed back at him in her own defence because an apology of any kind would have choked her. ‘And you’re still in my path!’

  ‘Where I will be staying until you have got a grip on your temper … or should I say tantrum?’ Angelo derided in a cutting undertone.

  ‘Get out of my way!’ Flora launched at him afresh, any desire to be reasonable crushed at source by that crack, although she did admonish Skipper for the racket he was making and the little dog finally fell silent.

  Lean, darkly handsome face rigid with displeasure, Angelo stepped back with infuriating reluctance. Flora flashed past him to head for the stairs. Halfway up, she almost tripped over Skipper as her anxious pet got below her feet and that instant of hesitation almost unbalanced her into a fall. As she clutched at the balustrade with a hissing gasp of fright Angelo braced his hands on her shoulders from behind and steadied her.

  ‘You’re okay. I’ve got you,’ he said fiercely.

  Unable to tolerate even that throwaway remark, Flora twisted her head round. ‘But that’s just it! You haven’t got me and you never will again! You actually believe I’m after your money, even though I’ve flatly refused to touch a penny of it!’ she reminded him doggedly. ‘I was totally independent until you pushed your way into my life and insisted on interfering—what was that all about? Why didn’t you just leave me alone?’

  ‘Lower your voice,’ Angelo growled.

  ’No! ‘ Flora fired back her refusal without hesitation because shouting at him was making her feel better by giving her an outlet for the emotions dammed up inside her. She didn’t want to stop fighting with him either because she dimly recognised that when the argument was over she would find herself standing amid the debris of a wrecked relationship and she was in no hurry to reach that sobering point.

  ‘You’ve screwed up my life!’ Flora continued between gritted teeth as she stalked back to her bedroom where Skipper shot below the bed and whined, disturbed by the raised bite of their voices and the furious tension still in the air.

  ’Dios mio, my life has been turned upside down as well,’ Angelo retaliated.

  Flora’s head spun, for she had not expected a response to her accusation. ‘Try carrying triplets and see how much worse you feel!’ she stabbed back, determined to have the last word.

  Incensed by her complete obstinacy, Angelo watched Flora throw herself down in a heap on the still disordered bed. ‘You’re very pale. You need to be resting, not fighting with me,’ he told her grimly.

  Flora reared up again on both elbows, green eyes full of rancour. ‘Were you expecting me to jump up and down with glee when you told me you thought I was a gold-digger, ready to fleece my baby niece?’

  ‘I refuse to lie and pretend that I wasn’t suspicious of your motives when you first applied to
adopt Mariska,’ Angelo declared, standing his ground.

  ‘But even so, in spite of your suspicions you slept with me!’ Flora raked back at him with a look of fuming feminine censure and incomprehension.

  A flare of colour scored the sculpted line of his high cheekbones, but he stared her down, refusing to admit fault on that score. ‘When did I say that I was perfect? ‘ Angelo traded in his dark deep drawl.

  Flora looked daggers at him and then rolled over to push her face into the welcome coolness of a pillow. What a mess, what a gigantic mess it all was! She wanted to cry and scream but she would do neither in front of him, so she pummelled the pillows with her fists instead. She was here in his home, she was available and because she was pregnant he was currently stuck with her, so that was probably why he had insisted that he still wanted her and that their relationship should be an intimate one. But their ties were the result of happenstance rather than planning. He might still desire her body, might want to have sex with her, but that was all. There was nothing deeper to his feelings for her. What an idiot she had been to lower her guard, let herself soften and fall in love with him! When had she forgotten that she knew next to nothing about men and invariably got it wrong with them? How had she overlooked the fact that she was dealing with a very rich, very handsome womaniser more used to taking than giving?

  ‘Just leave me alone,’ Flora urged from the muffling depths of the pillow. ‘Please … ‘

  Angelo clenched his even white teeth and closed strong brown hands over the footboard of the bed where he flexed his fingers impatiently on the solid wood. ‘Women usually prefer honesty.’

  Flora rested her hot cheek on her hand and half turned her head to squint at him, tousled copper hair settling in a glorious silken tangle round her shoulders. ‘Oh, we just say that because it sounds good … but we don’t want honesty unless it’s the kind of stuff we want to hear,’ she told him tartly.

  Angelo breathed in deep and slow and then swore below his breath anyway, while his knuckles showed white on the footboard as he held it too tightly for comfort. ‘I didn’t intend to hurt or upset you—’