Extreme Provocation

by Sarah Holland

  ‘Absolutely first class,’ said her father, smiling broadly. ‘Thank you very much, Mrs Marlborough.’

  Across the glittering ballroom, Lucy saw Randal watching her with lazy mockery. Her temper flared. He thought he had her right where he wanted her. She could have screamed.

  Soon, only half a dozen guests remained in the ballroom. Lucy had a sick feeling of excitement and fear in the pit of her stomach. The band were packing away, the caterers removing plates and glasses.

  A tall, thin woman with black hair and a severe expression came over. Introducing herself as Mrs Travers the housekeeper, she led them out of the ballroom and into the palatial hallway.

  They were taken up the sweeping staircase lined with portraits of past Mallorys. The family had owned the Hall since the eighteenth century, her father told her in a slurred, excited voice.

  Mrs Travers stopped abruptly. ‘Your room, Mr Winslow.’ She opened a door, ushering Gerald in. ‘Your daughter is directly next door.’

  Lucy bade her father goodnight, then followed the severely dressed housekeeper. She was shown into a very lovely room furnished in cream and gold, the floor a mass of luxurious deep pile carpeting, the walls pale gold oak, the curtains floor-length cream velvet.

  ‘Mrs Marlborough has provided you with night-attire,’ said Mrs Travers. ‘I expect it will be a size too big, but nevertheless comfortable.’

  Lucy saw the cream silk nightdress and nglig on the bed. ‘That’s very kind. Please thank her for me.’

  ‘I will, Miss Winslow.’ The housekeeper left with a cool smile.

  Locking the door immediately, Lucy took her ballgown off and laid it over a chair. The nightdress was a size too big, but fitted quite well for all that. Getting into bed, she felt able to sleep only because the bedroom door was so firmly locked. Randal might have been able to force this invitation on her, but he wouldn’t get the chance to force any more of his unwanted kisses...

  In the morning, she woke from a hot, sensual dream of Randal, his mouth at her throat while she moaned softly and ran her fingers through his black hair.

  To find herself alone in a strange bedroom was a disappointment. For a moment, she lay there, staring around the room, feeling for the first time the emptiness of her heart. I have no one to share my life with, she thought, eyes darkening suddenly. No one to sleep with me, wake up with me, spend all his time with me.

  Randal Marlborough flashed into her mind suddenly, and she saw with searing impact how it would be to turn and find him asleep beside her, his dark head on the pillow, his dangerous face softened by sleep.

  Hot colour flooded her face. She tried to dispel the image, tried to summon Edward, but he was a pale comparison, thin where Randal was muscular, fair where Randal was dark, weak where Randal was strong.

  Someone tried to open her bedroom door. She gasped, staring at the handle as it turned once, twice, then there was a silence.

  There was a knock on the door.

  ‘Who is it?’ Lucy called, tensing.

  ‘Your host,’ drawled Randal’s dark, sexy voice. ‘Open the door and let me in.’

  Lucy gave an angry laugh. ‘I shall do no such thing!’

  He laughed too, rich and deep, from outside the locked door. ‘Darling, I admire your spirit, but I must insist you open this door.’

  ‘You can insist all you like,’ she said coolly. ‘I shan’t do it.’

  ‘You want to eat your breakfast in a ballgown, do you?’

  She hesitated, eyes darting to the ravishing satin dress lying on the chair near the bed.

  ‘I’ve brought you a very attractive silk dress to wear instead,’ Randal tempted softly. ‘Open the door and I’ll let you have it.’

  That’s what I’m afraid of, she thought. Then she frowned. She would feel ridiculous going down to breakfast in last night’s finery.

  ‘All right,’ she said after a moment, and slid out of bed. ‘Wait there and I’ll be right out.’

  Picking up her nglig, she dragged it on, belting it tightly at the waist with the wide silk sash. It was such a pretty set, white lace and intensely feminine. Barefoot, she padded to the door, blonde hair tousled and face make-up-free.

  As she unlocked the door, she saw him leaning against the wall panel surround looking tall and excitingly attractive in an expensive grey suit. He seemed even taller now that she was barefoot.

  ‘Well,’ he said softly, blue eyes flicking over her slender body in the lace nglig, ‘you really are something else, aren’t you?’

  Her pulses were already leaping. ‘Is that the dress?’

  Randal withheld it, supporting the flimsy pink silk on one strong brown finger.

  Frowning, she tried to take it from him.

  ‘Uh-uh.’ His eyes glinted as he smiled mockingly. ‘There’s a price tag. And it’s not money.’

  Her lips tightened. ‘I might have known there would be!’

  ‘Well said. You never get something for nothing in this world.’

  ‘So what’s the price?’ she asked, arching blonde brows, although she knew what it would be, and her legs were weak at the thought of it.

  ‘A kiss,’ he said. ‘In private, freely given, and very passionate.’

  Hot colour flooded her face. ‘I’d rather eat breakfast in my ballgown!’

  ‘Just one kiss,’ he said equably. ‘What’s so terrible about that?’

  ‘You know perfectly well,’ she fumed, ‘that it wouldn’t end there. You’d want more, and you’re not going to get it, so just—’

  ‘I promise I won’t demand more than you’re prepared to give,’ he cut in coolly, unsmiling, and made the pink silk dress dance on the end of his long finger. ‘All I ask is one kiss in exchange for this dress.’

  Her gaze fell on the beautiful silk dress. ‘Where did you get it from, anyway? It looks terribly expensive.’

  ‘One of my mother’s,’ he said. ‘It’ll be a size too big, I imagine, but there’s something terribly sensual about loose silk on a slender woman’s body. Especially a dress like this. I can just see it falling off your shoulders as you sip your coffee...’

  So could she, and the image appealed to her newly awakening sensuality. ‘All right,’ she said on a reckless impulse, watching him through her lashes. ‘One kiss—and no more.’

  He moved into the bedroom, closed the door behind him, watched her from below his hooded eyelids, and suddenly the atmosphere was charged with a blazing excitement as she stood looking at him, her heart beating very fast, and her colour high.

  Randal threw the dress on a nearby chair. ‘Come here.’

  Lucy watched him intensely for a second, then moved towards him. When she was very close, she stopped, her body almost touching his, and looked up into that dark, dangerous face.

  ‘One kiss?’ she asked throatily.

  ‘A passionate one,’ he murmured, eyes dropping to her mouth.

  She moistened her lips with her tongue-tip. Slowly, she stood on tip-toe, her breathing accelerating as she put her hands on his broad shoulders, stared for a second at his hard mouth, then kissed him.

  His mouth opened hers, his hands slid to her waist, he pulled her against him and she went willingly, fulfilling her side of the bargain with passionate pleasure, her arms twining around his neck and her fingers sliding into his thick black hair.

  With a rough sound, he bent her backwards, and the kiss blazed into a desire she had never before experienced, her mouth sliding endlessly against his in hot exploration, aware of how slender and soft she was in contrast to the hard muscular power of the man who held her, kissed her so deeply, his hands sliding over the curves of her body.

  The kiss blazed on and on. She was drowning, lost in a sensual dream, her heart like thunder in her ears and her legs quivering as she swayed in his arms, faint moans coming from the back of her throat. Her breasts were tingling with sensitivity against his hard chest, her whole body coming alive, and she wanted to stay lost, drown completely, her eyes closed and her h
ead tilted back in abandon...

  There was a knock at the door. For a second they did not acknowledge it, too lost in the kiss. Then Lucy’s dizzy mind realised that someone was about to come in and catch her red-handed, so she dragged her mouth from his with a hot moan of protest.

  ‘Randal...’ She breathed his name, clinging to his broad shoulders, her legs so weak beneath her that she was afraid she might fall.

  He was darkly flushed, staring at her with glittering eyes. ‘Ask who it is,’ he murmured deeply.

  Lucy struggled to pull herself together. With a flash of accusation, she pushed away from him, her senses returning as she realised how completely she had given herself to him with that kiss.

  ‘Who is it?’ she called, trying to inject strength into her voice.

  ‘Mrs Travers,’ said the severe voice. ‘Breakfast is being served in the dining-room, Miss Winslow. Your father asked me to let you know he was already down there.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Travers.’ Lucy put a hand to her hot temple. ‘Tell him I’ll be right down.’

  The housekeeper’s footsteps receded.

  Lucy looked at Randal angrily. ‘You must go at once. I have to get dressed and go downstairs.’

  A hard smile curved his mouth. ‘Unfortunately, you’re right. I have a lot of work to do this morning before I accept your invitation to lunch.’

  ‘You invited yourself,’ she said haughtily, lifting her brows.

  ‘That’s the name of the game,’ he murmured. ‘You’re my prey, remember? I’ll use any means to trap you—fair or foul.’

  ‘Usually foul! Not to say—loathsome!’

  ‘Really?’ he drawled, opening the door, mockery in his eyes. ‘Your response just now was hardly disappointing. I look forward to closing in for the kill, Lucy. I can see it’s going to be worth every moment of the chase.’

  The door closed behind him, and Lucy stood alone, face burning. He had tricked her into that passionate response. She hated herself for giving it. Hated him for demanding it...

  Refusing to dwell on her treacherous excitement for him, Lucy quickly took advantage of the luxurious connecting bathroom, took a quick shower and then dressed in the pink silk shift dress.

  When she arrived in the dining-room, only her father and Edwina were there. It was a grand room with polished mahogany everywhere, a Jacobean fireplace of carved wood, and long, wide windows overlooking the dazzling green land of Mallory. Sunlight flooded into the room.

  ‘Good morning, darling.’ Gerald smiled at her, his eyes bloodshot. ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Very well,’ she said, smiling, and sat down at the long mahogany table. ‘Thank you very much for lending me this dress, Edwina. It was very thoughtful of you.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Edwina looked marvellously bright and fresh, wearing a green dress, off-the-shoulder, voluptuous and bountiful. ‘It was Randal’s idea. He does have a thoughtful side to his character—despite the dangerous image he projects.’

  The door opened and Randal entered, his presence dominating the room instantly. ‘Good morning, everyone.’ He sauntered to the table, kissed Lucy’s cheek, then his mother’s. ‘Good party last night, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Wonderful.’ Edwina patted her red hair. ‘Poor James drank too much champagne and is sleeping off a hangover.’

  ‘He’s just not used to it,’ Randal said, helping himself to kidneys. ‘Has the ballroom been cleared?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Edwina said, ‘although Mrs Travers is rapping out commands and terrorising the housemaids like mad to get it finished.’

  Randal laughed, then flicked his gaze to Lucy, a gleam in the blue depths. ‘That dress suits you, Lucy. I told you it would.’

  Flushing deeply, she became aware that one flimsy silk shoulder-strap had slipped down to bare her shoulder completely, her blonde hair falling softly against her gleaming skin.

  ‘What time do you expect to arrive for lunch, Marlborough?’ Gerald Winslow asked, sipping black coffee.

  ‘What time would be convenient?’ Randal asked coolly.

  ‘We normally serve lunch at three,’ said her father.

  Randal put his cup down. ‘Three is perfect.’ He got to his feet, magnificent in the grey business suit. ‘I have to rush. I’ll see you this afternoon.’ As he strode behind Lucy’s chair, he deliberately slid one long hand over her bared shoulder, murmuring, ‘You must wear silk more often. It’s incredibly sensual on your skin.’

  Lucy’s face burned scarlet and she lowered her lashes, pulses thudding. Randal left, closing the door and leaving Edwina and Gerald watching Lucy’s bent head with amusement.

  What can I do to stop him? she thought wildly. How can I make him leave me alone? He had forced her to stay here, forced her to accept that he would be coming to lunch today. What else could he force on her? And how long before she really was hunted down?

  Edward flashed into her mind suddenly, so calm and gentle and kind. She felt waves of longing for his presence. He had been beside her all her life, as much a brother as he was a protector, not part of the family yet ever present, ever loving, ever supportive.

  Edward would protect her if he knew what Randal Marlborough was trying to do. A sigh left her lips. How could she tell Edward? He would only be furious—perhaps angry enough to try to hit Randal. Irritably, she acknowledged the fact that Randal was the stronger of the two men. Not only was he at least six inches taller than Edward, but his body was built of pure lean muscle and he had a far more dangerous mind.

  No, she couldn’t risk Edward getting into a fight with Randal. Randal would humiliate and beat him effortlessly. So she couldn’t tell Edward the truth about Randal.

  But she could certainly make sure Edward came to lunch...

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WHEN Lucy got back to London, it was eleven-thirty. Her father went upstairs to shower and change, leaving Lucy in the kitchen to start preparing the chicken they had planned to eat today. When she had put the chicken in the oven and peeled the potatoes, Lucy washed her hands, dried them on a tea-towel, then telephoned Edward and invited him for lunch at three.

  She chose to wear a sky-blue silk shift dress which she complemented with a long string of fake pearls and pearl-drop earrings. Blonde hair hanging soft and loose around her slim shoulders, she added a smudge of pale pink lipstick and was ready.

  The doorbell rang as she was coming downstairs. Edward! she thought, and ran the last few steps to pull it open. ‘Oh...!’

  Randal stood on the doorstep, looking dangerously attractive. ‘Not surprised to see me, surely?’ he drawled with a mocking smile.

  She was aware of her pulses leaping in response to his hard good looks. In the sunlight, that scar on his cheek made him look like a pirate.

  She opened the door wider, stepping back. He strode coolly across the threshold, dominating the hall as Lucy closed the door behind him. Now he had spoiled everything! Edward wouldn’t get here in time to be briefed about Randal. She could hardly whisper her plea for help over the luncheon table.

  He was watching her, a frown on his hard face. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Only the fact that you’re here,’ she said flatly, and tried to move past him.

  His hand caught her wrist in long fingers. ‘Come off it,’ he said flatly. ‘You were surprised to see me. And now you’re lost in thought. What’s going on, Lucy?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she denied guiltily, but her flushed face betrayed her.

  The narrowed eyes probed hers shrewdly. ‘You were expecting someone else...’

  Her colour deepened. ‘What of it?’ she said defensively. ‘This is my home; I can invite who I like.’

  ‘And who do you like?’ he drawled through hard lips, then an unpleasant smile tightened his mouth. ‘Ah...of course...the boyfriend!’

  His eyes were at once alarming and exciting, the blackness in their depths making her pulses throb and the hair on the back of her neck prickle upwards. Staring up at him, her mouth was dry.
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  ‘Well, well, well,’ he said tightly. ‘I wondered when I’d meet him.’

  ‘He’s coming at three,’ she said, heart beating too fast.

  ‘But how fascinating. I’ll have a chance to study him at my leisure.’

  The doorbell rang. Lucy tried to move to answer it.

  Randal stopped her, eyes narrowed, hand biting into her wrist.

  ‘I have to answer the door,’ she said, trying to get away.

  ‘And I have to remind you exactly who you’re dealing with,’ he said thickly, and then his head bent before she could cry out. His mouth closed over hers, and her puny struggles went unheeded.

  The doorbell rang again.

  Randal’s kiss increased its pressure, refusing to let her go, though she wriggled, angry sounds coming from her throat. His hands moved through her hair, tousling it deliberately, arousing shivers of angry, inexplicable desire in her.

  The doorbell rang a third time.

  ‘Lucy!’ her father shouted from upstairs. ‘For heaven’s sake—answer the door!’

  Randal released her, mockery in his eyes. ‘Yes—answer the door, Lucy...’

  Breathless, dizzy, she stared at the mirror on the wall opposite, appalled at her reflection. Love-swept hair, bruised mouth, flushed face and fever-bright eyes.

  ‘He’s getting impatient,’ Randal murmured as the bell rang again. ‘I’ll answer it for you, shall I?’

  ‘No!’ Lucy cried hoarsely, but he had already pulled open the door.

  There was a stunned silence.

  Edward smiled at Lucy as he saw her, then a frown clouded his handsome face and he stiffened, seeing her guilty flush, the glitter of her green eyes, the bruised lips, tousled hair...and the distance she stood from the door.

  Suddenly, Randal stepped forwards from behind the door. ‘Good afternoon,’ he drawled. ‘My name is Randal Marlborough. Won’t you come in?’ He behaved deliberately as though he were master of the house.

  Edward stared at him in disbelief.

  Lucy wanted to slap his handsome, mocking face. She’d never been so angry in her life.