Ruthless Lover

by Sarah Holland

  Suddenly, he thrust her roughly from him. ‘Fine,’ he said tightly, getting to his feet. ‘I’ve never made love to a woman who didn’t want me and I don’t intend to start now.’

  Relief and acute disappointment swamped her as she lay very still, staring up at him.

  ‘There have always been plenty of women ready to submit to me,’ he drawled cruelly, watching her with a hard smile. ‘There always will be. And I’ll enjoy making love to them, Serena, until you decide you want to join their number.’

  She gasped in outraged disbelief. ‘Not until the day I die, you arrogant swine!’

  ‘Men who are successful with women are always arrogant,’ he said with a cold lift of his brows. ‘I’m no different. Why should I put up with rejection from a spoilt little girl when I could have a warm, willing woman to share my bed?’ He lifted his dark head, face very hard. ‘Think about it, Serena. Perhaps you’ll have changed your mind by morning.’

  He turned, striding out of the bedroom without another word, and as the door slammed behind him Serena was already struggling with hot, bitter tears as she faced the reality of her marriage.

  At breakfast the next morning, Nick was hostile to her.

  ‘Thought about what I said last night?’ he asked flatly as they sat tensely together on the sunlit patio overlooking the beach.

  ‘Yes,’ Serena said icily. ‘And my answer is a resounding no. I wouldn’t let you make love to me if you went down on your knees and begged me to!’

  ‘Most unlikely,’ he drawled tightly. ‘As I believe I made clear last night, where women are concerned, I’m never the one who has to beg.’

  Hot colour flooded her angry face. ‘Oh, yes, I’m sure they’re all throwing themselves at your feet, Mr Colterne. You’re a very rich man and no doubt many women find you irresistible. I just don’t happen to be one of them.’

  ‘Then we’re at a stalemate.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘For the moment. But it’s not a stalemate I intend to live with forever, Serena. One clause in our marital contract was that you provide me with an heir.’

  At that she paled, falling silent

  Nick studied her, mouth a cool line. ‘Obviously, you’re too young to consider living up to your side of the deal just yet. But you won’t always be, Serena. Sooner or later, you’ve got to give me children, and we both know it’

  She swallowed, her throat dry as ashes. ‘So you will inflict yourself on me? Whether I like it or not?’

  ‘Oh, you’ll like it,’ he said softly, and watched the angry glitter of her green eyes before drawling, ‘But we’ll discuss it at a later date. In a few years’ time. When you’ve grown up a bit. You’ll see things differently then. You’ll also have had time to live with frustration—’ a ruthless smile curved his mouth as he said under his breath ‘—and you’ll be very willing to end it.’

  ‘Don’t count on it!’ she said bitterly, hating him.

  He laughed softly, then got to his feet, a frown on his brow. ‘In the meantime, though, we’re going to have to deal with our incompatibility.’

  She watched him in silence, the warm breeze lifting her red-gold hair.

  ‘I’ll keep mistresses,’ Nick said coolly. ‘I will, of course, keep them away from you. You’ll never be humiliated publicly, you can rest assured of that. I have four homes—in New York, London, Hong Kong and this one here in Nassau.’ He lifted dark brows. ‘I’ll hire a private secretary for you. She’ll type out our schedules every month and we’ll exchange them. That way, we need never bump into one another unless we have to.’

  ‘Some marriage,’ she said thickly, hating him.

  ‘I married you for your title and your inheritance, Serena,’ he drawled sardonically. ‘I can get sex and female company elsewhere. I don’t actually need them from you.’

  Bitterly, she surveyed him. ‘And we’ll discuss children later?’

  ‘Much later,’ he said coolly.

  Staring at the sun on the sea across the white sands of Nassau, Serena felt a quiver of fear. ‘How much later?’

  ‘When I think you’re ready,’ he said flatly, and walked away off the patio without another word.

  So they had slipped into the routine of their marriage. It had worked, too. Serena had found herself left to live her own life as she wished, with all the money she could have dreamed of at her disposal, while Nick went his own way.

  Occasionally, they would meet up at Flaxton Manor, putting on a brave show for her parents, who were anxious that Serena be happy. So she and Nick laughed and kissed for their benefit, and then went their separate ways again. Sometimes they had to go to Boston to see Nick’s parents, and that was easier, because that Bostonian palace they lived in held no bitter memories for her.

  Flaxton Manor had been opened to the public, become a successful tourist attraction, and over the following three years had gone from strength to strength, developing a garden centre in the grounds which her father doted on, and which had given him a new lease of life.

  Now, however, Nick had suddenly appeared without warning and got into her bed, eliciting that swift, hot rush of pleasure and making Serena feel unaccountably afraid.

  Lying in bed, staring at the lights of New York outside her window, she felt that fear grow deep inside her.

  Was it true that his jet had been diverted? Was it true that this was an unplanned visit? Was it true that he would be leaving in the morning?

  Or were his motives altogether—more sinister?

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE rattle of china woke Serena next morning. Lids flickering open sleepily, she frowned, wondering who it was. Then she remembered Nick and her body jack-knifed into a sitting position. Heart thudding, she sat there, acutely aware of every movement he made in the kitchen. Her eyes flashed to the clock. Nine a.m. What was he still doing here?

  Getting up, she went into the bathroom, washed her face and cleaned her teeth, wondering whether or not she should join him for breakfast. If she didn’t, he might very well join her. A flush stained her cheeks at the memory of his kiss last night. She didn’t want a repetition of that. There was no option but to go and join him and find out what his plans were.

  She had planned to dress, but she heard him moving about outside her door, so she quickly snatched up her black négligé and shouldered into it with jerky movements, her heart skipping as she buttoned up the front of it with shaky fingers.

  Wrenching open the door, she saw him with newspapers in his hand, strolling lazily past her.

  He stopped, dangerously tall and sexy in his dark red pyjama trousers and bare chest. ‘Morning,’ he said coolly, flicking his blue eyes over her. ‘I didn’t know you’d added the New York Artist to our delivery list.’

  Her eyes darted to the papers he held. ‘I ordered it months ago…’

  ‘You’re paying for it yourself, too,’ he noted with a wry movement of his dark brows. ‘Out of your allowance. Or I would have noticed it on the bills.’

  Stiffening, she said, ‘Is it a crime, Nick?’

  ‘No.’ The dark brows drew together in a frown. ‘Just secretive of you.’

  ‘Everyone has secrets,’ she said coolly.

  He studied her for a moment, then walked away, his face unreadable. Serena watched him go, dry-mouthed. Damn! If she had known he was going to be here she would have telephoned the newsagents to cancel that order. She didn’t like Nick’s knowing anything about her life.

  As she joined him in the kitchen she saw him lounging at the long pine table, drinking coffee and reading the New York Post. His bare chest was dangerously attractive, those broad shoulders tanned and powerfully muscled, black hair covering his chest to the long dark line at his navel.

  ‘Can’t you put something on?’ Serena asked tautly, averting her gaze. ‘You shouldn’t wander around like that!’

  His blue eyes flicked to hers. ‘Why shouldn’t I? It’s my home.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m here,’ she said, folding her arms and hovering in the doorway at a d
istance from him.

  He gave a cool laugh. ‘You’re my wife, Serena. You’ve seen my chest before!’

  ‘Not very often!’

  ‘That can easily be remedied,’ he said softly, blue eyes mocking her as they slid with insolent sexual appraisal over her slender body.

  ‘Very funny, Nick!’ she said tightly, green eyes flashing at him. ‘Now, please put something on, or I’ll have to eat breakfast in the living-room.’

  There was a tense little silence. Nick studied her through narrowed eyes, then said softly, ‘You didn’t blush. Perhaps you are growing up, after all.’

  Hot colour swept her cheeks immediately and she turned to walk away from the door, hating him for having made her so acutely aware of him, and making her feel a fool because of it.

  The soft laughter that came from the kitchen made her grind her teeth with rage. She heard him walk coolly out, go into his bedroom, and get his dressing-gown.

  ‘There,’ he drawled lazily, presenting himself in his dark red dressing-gown, hands thrust deeply in the pockets. ‘Am I now fit for breakfasting with?’

  Serena studied him through her gold lashes. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, recovering herself with dignity, and followed him into the kitchen, realising with a sudden shock that after three years of marriage her husband was almost a stranger to her.

  And a very disturbing stranger, at that.

  He sank down in his chair again, flicked open the Post, and began reading.

  Serena studied his hard profile. A ruthless tycoon who had married her for her title and inheritance…why did he insist on keeping their marriage going when it was such a shell? Why did she? A sigh left her full mouth, and she cleared her throat.

  ‘When do you leave for Washington?’

  ‘Washington?’ he drawled, his American accent giving the capital city an air of glamour.

  ‘Yes,’ she said coolly, walking to the table and deliberately lowering his newspaper with one slim hand, meeting the sudden steely flick of his eyes. ‘Washington! You remember. You were on your way there last night!’

  He studied her for a second. ‘You’re getting bold, Serena.’

  She lifted her chin. ‘I don’t want you here, Nick. I made that plain last night.’

  ‘That’s not all you made plain,’ he said softly, mockingly, and let his eyes drift to her mouth. ‘That was quite a kiss you gave me in bed. I almost thought I’d got the wrong apartment.’

  Hot colour swept over her face. ‘I was asleep!’ she said accusingly. ‘I didn’t know what was happening!’

  ‘Neither did I,’ he said lazily. ‘I expected you to start screaming as soon as I touched you and try to claw my eyes out. That’s your usual response to my touch, isn’t it?’ His eyes narrowed speculatively. ‘I wonder what made last night different’

  ‘I just told you,’ Serena said flatly, turning away to get a plate and cup from the cupboard, refusing to look at him any more in case he saw the flare of sudden arousal in her green eyes. ‘I was asleep and I didn’t know what was happening. I was having a dream, if you must know. That’s why I woke up so slowly…why it took so long for me to realise what you were doing.’

  He smiled sardonically, drawling, ‘Nothing to do with me personally, then?’

  ‘No!’ she said angrily, sitting down and reaching for the coffee-pot. ‘You know perfectly well how I feel about you personally.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he said softly, mockingly. ‘I disgust you. Sure. It came across loud and clear last night!’

  Her green eyes burned with angry accusation. ‘It must have done, or you would never have left me alone, Nick!’

  His mouth curved in a cynical smile. ‘Well, maybe I have other plans for you,’ he said softly. ‘Later on in the day…’ He shook out the New York Post, cynical blue eyes flicking over the small newsprint again.

  Serena ignored him, and buttered a slice of toast, but inside she was shaken. This argument was too personal. His kiss last night had been too personal. In fact—everything so far about this little ‘visit’ was too personal.

  They had got through the last three years without ever having personal conversations. Normally, they were polite strangers with very little to say to each other. The arrangement worked very well. Why was Nick suddenly tampering with it? Flicking a series of switches and provoking personal confrontation…?

  Because he’s got nothing better to do, she thought bitterly. He lived life at a whirlwind pace, blasting his way through obstacles, rarely stopping to think of the consequences of his actions on the people he blasted out of his way.

  Odd that he should operate like that, given his family background. His parents were wealthy Bostonian bankers. Nick had been born into a world of American grace and privilege, and had not quite fitted in. His dynamic personality and quick, enquiring mind had stuck out like a sore thumb in that world.

  But, although their strange marriage had given her brief glimpses into his past, she was aware that their conversations never turned to personal subjects.

  Like sex, for instance, she thought with a prickle of unease.

  Nick had opened this visit with sex, and the subject was still lingering between them like a crackle of electricity, making Serena distinctly nervous.

  Shooting him an anxious look, she said huskily, ‘Nick, you are leaving this morning, aren’t you?’

  He didn’t look at her. ‘I’ll be leaving just as soon as the jet’s ready. The pilot’s going to call me.’

  ‘Oh…’ She nodded, bit into her toast with small white teeth.

  Serena wanted him out of the apartment as soon as possible. Tomorrow was a big day for her. She didn’t want Nick complicating it. His presence here today was unexpected and unwelcome, but at least it wouldn’t blow a hole in her private life. Whereas tomorrow…

  Suddenly Nick got to his feet. ‘I’m going to take a shower and get dressed,’ he announced, throwing the newspaper on to the table. ‘If the pilot rings, take a message for me.’

  He strode out of the room, leaving her burning with resentment. He treated her like his secretary. Well, not quite, she thought with a flash of anger towards him, because he was probably having an affair with his secretary.

  Clearing the table, Serena put the dishes in the dishwasher. The luxury apartment block on Fifth Avenue was kept in perfect order by the people who ran it. There were no personal staff here, although all Nick’s other homes did have personal staff.

  This was one of her favourite homes. Nick had excellent taste, and all his homes were furnished in a similar style with French antiques, pale green or cream and gold colours, and a general air of Bostonian elegance. It appealed to her sense of beauty, and was in keeping with her love of ‘old money’ as opposed to flashy new. Her own family background was not as luxurious or stylish as Nick’s, but she had often wished it were. The threadbare, faded beauty of Flaxton Manor had been charming, but hard to live with, particularly when springs leapt out of ancient sofas and cut one’s legs, or whole sections of roof caved in after rainfall.

  Serena went to her bedroom and took a delicious shower. With wet hair, she wrapped a cream towelling robe around her slender body and padded into the bedroom.

  It would be a good idea to hide her paintings from Nick in case he saw them. The last thing she wanted was for him to find out she was flourishing as an artist behind his back.

  Going to her wardrobe, she opened it, then picked up the packing cases crammed with her numerous paintings, and lugged them into the wardrobe with a groan. The canvases were very heavy. She locked the door and went to her dressing-table to blow-dry her hair.

  Later, she strolled into the living-room in a peacock-blue silk shift dress, her long red-gold hair in her usual style, falling seductively over one eye.

  She looked at the telephone and frowned. It was ominously silent. Was Nick really diverted here unexpectedly? His fleet of air staff was usually so efficient. If there was something wrong with the jet…

  Nick’s bedroom
door burst open and he strode in. ‘I’m bored!’ he announced in that cool Bostonian voice, running a hand through his freshly washed black hair, devastatingly attractive in a blue-grey business suit, every inch the powerful, sexy tycoon. ‘I don’t want to sit around here all day waiting for a call! Let’s go out!’

  ‘Out?’ Serena repeated, staring.

  ‘Sure. Why not?’ He strode to the telephone and switched on the answering machine with long, quick fingers. ‘Do some shopping, have some lunch.’

  Her lips parted. ‘But we never go out together…’

  ‘Don’t we?’ He straightened, face cynical. ‘I never noticed.’

  ‘You’re always too busy being Nick Colterne to notice,’ she said with a haughty flick of her lashes, then, ‘Anyway—what about the jet? If they call—’

  ‘They can leave a message like everybody else,’ he drawled, and ran his insolent blue eyes over her slender curves. ‘I like the dress. Very sexy. Needs some shoes, though. Go and put them on and let’s get out of here.’

  Serena’s mouth tightened. ‘Don’t order me about, Nick!’

  ‘Why not?’ he drawled, a sardonic smile on his hard mouth.

  ‘Because I don’t like it!’ she snapped, hating him with a sudden fierce passion.

  ‘Well, isn’t that just too bad?’ he drawled softly, a mocking smile on his ruthless mouth as he studied her, challenging her to do what she suddenly realised she wanted to do: slap his cynical face and wipe that smile right off it.

  Their eyes warred in a moment of hair-raising electricity. Then Serena tightened her lips and stormed into her bedroom, trembling with rage, to fling open her walk-in wardrobe and get her high heels, jamming them on her feet in a burst of uncharacteristic fury.

  ‘Don’t slam about, beautiful!’ Nick drawled from the doorway, leaning there, hands in trouser pockets, watching her with mockery, and she turned, eyes flashing wide with sudden fear in case he moved into the room and saw the tell-tale packing cases.