Rich, Ruthless and Secretly Royal

by Robyn Donald

  ‘What is it?’ Hani asked anxiously.

  Over his shoulder he said, ‘I heard a noise. Listen!’

  Obediently she strained to hear, but heard nothing except the soft sound of the wind in the trees. In a voice pitched barely above a whisper, she asked, ‘What sort of noise?’

  ‘A whimper, like something in pain.’

  He strode towards the trees, but when Hani caught him up he stopped her with a hand on her arm, and ordered, ‘Stay here.’

  ‘Why?’ The hair lifted on the back of her neck. Acutely conscious of the latent strength in the fingers curled above her elbow, she looked up into a face set in rigid lines of command.

  Blue eyes hard and intent, he said, ‘I don’t know what it is,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and check it out. I want you to stay here until I call you.’

  ‘Surely you don’t think—’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he emphasised. ‘And if I yell, run back to the car, lock yourself in and call emergency on the cell-phone you’ll find in the glove pocket.’

  When she didn’t answer he said, ‘Perhaps you should do that now.’

  ‘I’ll wait by the car,’ she said flatly. ‘But I think you’re overreacting.’

  He gave her a thin smile. ‘Of course I am. Humour me,’ he said, and watched as she walked across to stand by the vehicle.

  ‘Be careful!’ she mouthed silently as he walked into the head-high scrub.

  Tensely she waited, every nerve on edge, relaxing a few minutes later when he emerged carrying a small black and white animal.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked as she ran across to him. ‘Oh, it’s a puppy!’

  Under his breath he said something she was rather glad she couldn’t hear, adding distinctly, ‘And it’s terrified.’

  So distressed she had to swallow to control her voice, she said, ‘Give it to me!’ and held out her hands.

  Kelt shook his head and carefully, gently manipulated each fragile limb. The puppy settled down immediately, lifting its sharp little face to him and neither flinching nor whimpering when he ran his lean, competent fingers over it.

  ‘Get into the car and I’ll drive us to the vet,’ Kelt said austerely. ‘It doesn’t seem to be in any pain but it needs to be checked in case it’s sick, or too young to be separated from its mother. In which case it will have to be put down.’

  Hani quelled her instinctive outcry. She knew enough about dogs to realise that he was right.

  He looked down at her and the grimness faded. ‘I suppose you want to carry it?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Kelt put the squirming pup into her eager hands.

  ‘There, there, you’re all right,’ she murmured, her voice low as she cuddled the little animal to her breast. Immediately it relaxed, staring earnestly up into her face.

  Cradling the pup, Hani climbed into the passenger seat. ‘She doesn’t look sick at all,’ she said when Kelt came in beside her.

  ‘She?’

  ‘Yes, she’s a female, and she looks really healthy—fat and glossy. Her eyes are clear and bright, and she’s alert. She can’t have been thrown out of a car. Perhaps whoever did this wanted her to be found.’

  Kelt switched on the engine and said harshly, ‘If they had they wouldn’t have tied her up in a sack and hidden her behind a patch of manuka scrub.’

  Wishing he hadn’t pointed out that inconvenient fact, she remained silent.

  He must have guessed, because he sent her a swift, sideways glance. ‘It’s always better to face the truth,’ he said. Once they were on the road he gave a humourless smile. ‘Did I sound sententious and smug?’

  ‘Yes, you did,’ she told him spiritedly, stroking the puppy’s downy little head. ‘Unfortunately that doesn’t make what you said any less true.’

  ‘In my experience almost as much havoc is wrought by people who stubbornly make excuses for inexcusable behaviour as by the people who indulge in that behaviour.’

  ‘Oh, dear, as well as sententious and smug you sound very old and jaded,’ she teased.

  To her surprise his mouth twitched at the corners, but he didn’t answer, and her gaze drifted to his hands on the wheel—sure, competent, controlled…

  He’d handled the pup so carefully, his long fingers gentle as he’d manipulated the tiny limbs. Into her head there sneaked an image of those hands on her skin, their lean, tanned strength a potent contrast to her pale gold.

  That secret warmth blazed into life, sending a wave of hot excitement through her. Stunned, she banished the seductive fantasy and sat upright, concentrating on the animal now asleep in her lap.

  But before long she stole a glance at the man beside her, unconsciously measuring the arrogant profile—all angles and straight lines except for the sexy curve of his lips.

  ‘OK?’ he asked without looking at her.

  How did he know she’d been watching him? Confused by her reaction, she swallowed and said, ‘Yes, she’s asleep, poor little scrap. How could anyone be so cruel as to abandon her like that to a lingering and painful death? It’s—just horrible.’

  ‘They probably couldn’t bring themselves to kill her, so they stuffed her into the sack like rubbish and dumped her—out of sight, out of mind.’ Kelt’s tone was coldly disgusted.

  Chilled, because Felipe always had someone else do his dirty work for him, she said thinly, ‘That’s appalling—horrifying.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  The vet, a middle-aged woman with an expression that told them she’d seen worse things than this, said, ‘She’s in excellent condition. I’d say she was the only pup in the litter and that she’s just been taken from her mother. She’s about two months old—part border collie with something like a corgi.’ She looked at Kelt, her eyes amused. ‘She’ll probably make a good cattle dog, Kelt.’

  He smiled at that, looking at the puppy protectively cradled in Hani’s arms.

  ‘What do you want done with her?’ the vet asked.

  Hani said, ‘I’ll look after her.’

  She felt the impact of Kelt’s frown without seeing it, but his tone was neutral and dispassionate when he said, ‘Are you sure? Puppies are a bit like babies—they need fairly constant attention and that often means getting up at night to take them outside.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You’ll be sorry when you have to leave her behind.’

  ‘Surely someone—perhaps on the station—will adopt her once I’ve got her housetrained and taught her some simple commands?’

  ‘Every child on Kiwinui will want her,’ Kelt said dryly, then shrugged. ‘Your decision,’ he said, and turned to the vet. ‘Thanks for looking at her. We’d better buy some necessities before we go.’

  The vet said, ‘Well, let me sponsor her for that, anyway. Quite frankly, I’m glad you’re not leaving me with the problem of what to do with her.’

  Kelt said ironically, ‘I’ll stand godfather and buy her first lot of food.’

  ‘It’s all right—’ When he lifted that quizzical brow Hani stopped, realising she couldn’t accept the vet’s professional services then refuse Kelt’s offer.

  Lamely she said, ‘Thank you very much, both of you.’

  Halfway home Kelt asked, ‘What will you call her?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She laughed. ‘My brother always said dogs choose their own names if you just give them a bit of time.’

  And stopped, her heart banging uncomfortably in her chest. For years she’d never spoken of Rafiq—tried not to even think of him because it hurt so much—yet somehow this man had got through her guard enough for her to mention her brother twice in as many days. She’d have to be much more careful.

  He said casually, ‘Your brother is probably right. You could call her Annie.’

  For a horrified second she thought he’d said Hani. The puppy squirmed in her lap as though sensing the panic that kicked beneath her ribs. Then she realised what he’d actually said. Relief cracked her voice when she replied, ‘Annie?’

&nbs
p; ‘Little Orphan Annie, alone and friendless in the world.’

  The allusion clicked into place. She kept her eyes fixed on the pup, asleep again. ‘Well, she’s probably not an orphan, and she’s certainly not alone or friendless now—thanks to you.’

  She sensed rather than saw his broad shoulders lift. ‘You’re the one who made the decision. I just hope you’re not too shattered when you have to leave her behind.’

  Hani bit her lip, then was struck by a thought. ‘If I have to leave her behind. I might be able to take her with me. I can’t see why not.’

  For the first time since she’d fled Felipe she was ready to risk loving again. An emotion unfurled inside her, softly and without limit, a sense of freedom and relief.

  She’d believed Felipe had killed an essential part of her—that part willing to give trust and love—when he’d ordered the death of her puppy.

  But he hadn’t.

  It had just gone into hiding.

  So she’d allow herself to love this helpless, abandoned little thing, and she’d fight to take her back to Tukuulu. After all, she’d saved the pup’s life, and saving something meant it was up to you to look after it to the best of your ability.

  Feeling slightly winded, as though she’d taken a huge step into the unknown, she stroked the puppy again.

  ‘The vet said she’ll grow into a working dog,’ Kelt reminded her.

  ‘So?’

  ‘That means she’ll need constant stimulation—work to occupy her mind—or she’ll become frustrated and neurotic.’

  Hani digested that silently before saying, ‘I’ll see how things go.’ She sent him a quick, defiant look. ‘But whatever happens, I’ll always be glad we stopped to look over the valley.’

  He nodded. ‘Me too.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE PUPPY SETTLED DOWN well in her new basket, but in the middle of the night Hani woke with a headache and the telltale signs of a bout of fever. Glumly she gulped down her medication, then remembered her promise to Kelt; aching and reluctant, she forced herself out to the telephone, squinted at the number she’d been given, and fumbled to press the buttons.

  When she finally got the combination right Kelt answered. ‘I’ll be right down,’ he said tersely. ‘Get back to bed.’

  By the time he arrived she was shivering under the covers, and the low hum of his approaching vehicle was probably the most wonderful sound she’d ever heard.

  Learning to rely on Kelt would be almost more dangerous than falling in love with him, but at that moment she was utterly grateful he had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility.

  Although she strained to hear, she didn’t realise he was in the house until he opened the bedroom door and the puppy, secure in her basket in the corner of the room, woke, made a funny squeak and scrabbled at the side of her basket.

  ‘Go back to sleep,’ he said, and of course the little thing settled down again.

  He came silently across to the bed and scrutinised Hani, and in spite of her heart’s warning she relaxed and closed her eyes, allowing herself to yield to the effortless authority emanating from him.

  ‘You’ve taken your medication?’

  He frowned, because her smile was a pale imitation of the real thing. ‘Yes, sir.’ The words were slurred and unsteady, and she spoke with difficulty, but she added, ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

  Kelt took her hand, surprised at the way her fingers curled around his. ‘Try to relax. I’ll get you a drink. Hot or cold?’

  The narrow brows pleated as though she didn’t understand, and a minuscule nod was followed by another shiver that racked her slender body.

  ‘Hot,’ she whispered.

  He made tea and brought it in, scooping her against his chest and holding the cup to her lips as she took tiny sips of the warm liquid. He didn’t know if adding sugar would help, but on the chance it might he’d sweetened it. Although her brows drew together again, she drank most of it.

  To his critical eye this attack was nowhere as severe as the first one he’d witnessed, but it was bad enough. She was on fire and in pain, and there was nothing he could do but hold her and wait for the fever to subside.

  He looked down at the even features, the flushed, honey-coloured skin like silk satin. She might pretend to be English, but with her superb eyes closed a heritage of more exotic bloodlines was obvious. Those eyes were set on a slight upwards tilt, their long lashes flickering and her sensuous mouth tightening as the fever burned mercilessly through her.

  The thought of her enduring this alone and uncared for roused a fierce, powerful compassion in Kelt, fuelling his helpless anger at knowing the only thing he could give her was the comfort of his arms.

  Eventually the fever broke dramatically, and once again she was drenched. Relieved, he glanced at his watch. This bout was over in half the time of the previous one.

  Meanwhile, what to do about her soaked clothes? She’d hate it, but she was just going to have to deal with the fact that once again he’d got her out of the wet garments and into something dry.

  At the thought his body quickened, protectiveness replaced by a rush of forbidden desire. He gritted his teeth and set her back onto the bed.

  Her lashes flickered again, then lifted, forced up by sheer will.

  Hani stared at the dark, stony face above her, familiar yet strangely alien. Slowly her sluggish brain processed enough information for her to recall what had happened. Although exhaustion softened her bones and loosened her muscles, she shuddered at the feel of her wet hair against her throat and the clammy embrace of her clothes.

  After a couple of tries she managed to say, ‘Th-thank you.’

  The steely blue gaze that held her prisoner didn’t change. ‘Do you think you can shower by yourself?’

  Shying away from the only alternative, she muttered, ‘Yes.’

  When she tried to pull herself up he said curtly, ‘Stay where you are. I’ll turn the shower on and carry you in.’

  But when he came back she was sitting on the side of the bed, brows knotted and panting slightly.

  ‘I said I’d carry you in,’ he said, but his tone was resigned rather than irritated.

  ‘I can manage,’ she said, defiance plain in her tone.

  To her surprise he didn’t object. ‘OK, give it a try.’

  Hani eased her feet onto the floor and grabbed the headboard, exerting the very last of her strength to stand up. Her legs shook so much that she might as well be shivering, she thought miserably.

  Kelt didn’t say anything; he just picked her up as effortlessly as though she were a child and carried her across the room. As the door closed behind them she saw the puppy’s eyes on them.

  ‘I’m glad you can smile,’ he said, easing her onto the chair he’d put in the shower.

  ‘The puppy thinks we’re crazy,’ she managed to say, her voice wobbling.

  Eyes revealing grim amusement, he examined her through a haze of steam. ‘She’s almost certainly right,’ he told her. ‘If you think you can cope, I’ll leave you to it. If you can’t, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to grit your teeth and bear my ministrations.’

  Again—only this time she was conscious. Colour prickled up from her breasts. ‘I can do it,’ she said quickly.

  He gave her another hard stare and nodded. ‘Yell if you need help,’ he said succinctly, and left her.

  Gathering strength, she sat for some moments just relishing the clean warmth of the water on her sweat-soaked body, but when she tried to get out of her clothes that same water made her clothes clinging and uncooperative. Gritting her teeth, she was able to wriggle free of her briefs, but the top resisted her every attempt.

  She was shaking with useless frustration when there was a knock on the door. ‘J-just a moment,’ she called desperately, tugging at the recalcitrant shift as it refused to come over her arms.

  Humiliatingly exposed, she looked around for her towel, then grabbed the one he’d put outside and wrapped it aroun
d herself. Where, of course, it immediately got wet. Hot, furious tears welled up in her eyes and ached in her throat so she couldn’t produce a word.

  He said, ‘Hannah?’

  Her silence brought him straight inside; he took in the situation immediately and said, ‘It’s all right.’

  She flinched away as he opened the door into the shower. Face rigid, he paused for a second to strip off his shirt, then reached in and turned off the shower.

  Hani could have died with embarrassment, but to her amazed bewilderment she wasn’t afraid. Efficiently and without changing expression he removed her top and, while she blushed from her waist to the top of her head, he got his shirt and cocooned her in it, hiding everything down to her thighs.

  ‘Let that wet towel drop now,’ he said.

  Her hands were shaking so much she couldn’t even untie the one she’d knotted around her waist. Embarrassing tears filled her eyes. In a goaded voice she said, ‘I f-feel so useless…’

  ‘Nobody is at their best after a bout of tropical fever,’ he said in a cool, level voice, and undid the towel for her, letting it drop.

  His hands against her were—wildly exciting. They set her skin on fire.

  No, they set her whole body alight. Dumbly, she stared at him, and started to shake again—delicious, fiercely erotic tremors of sensation that filled her with a tempting strength. Hani forced herself to lift her eyes from his torso—a powerful incitement in itself, strong and lean and bronze, the muscles flexing slightly as though he stayed still only with a great effort.

  She met his eyes, recklessly responding to the glitter of hunger in their blue depths.

  For—how long? Measured by heartbeats, an eternity. His fingers tightened around her waist, almost easing her closer, and she held her breath, everything in her focused on the warmth of his hands on her skin, the faint, primal body scent that was his alone, emphasised by the shirt she wore.

  Somehow the fever had sensitised her whole body so that it longed for his touch. More than anything in the whole world she wanted him to take that final step, wanted to let her head rest on his broad shoulder, let him…