Claimed by the Wealthy Magnate

by Nina Milne

  ‘Lady Kaitlin in action. They all look a lot more enthused than they did a few minutes ago, and that boy is definitely less hostile.’

  ‘I told you: I do the research, I do the groundwork—I agreed to do this and I’ll do it to the best of my ability.’

  ‘It’s more than that. You didn’t need research to achieve what you just did—that was you, Kaitlin, not your preparation, faultless thought that was.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Absurdly, warmth encased her at his approval, sufficient to embolden her as she stared into the depths of the canal. ‘Let’s kayak.’

  Two days later

  Kaitlin ached, but it was a good ache—the kind of ache that spoke of outdoor exercise, clean air, mountains and glens.

  A twinge of nerves was accompanied by more than a hint of anticipation as she hesitated outside the lounge door. The past two nights she had scurried to her room with a take-out sandwich, needing time alone to erase the Daniel effect. It was ridiculous, given her genuine absorption in the activities and the teens, and yet the whole time her body had hummed with a constant awareness—one she knew mirrored his own. She’d sensed it in the way his eyes rested on her, felt the tension vibrate from him when they were close together.

  So the obvious answer was not to get close.

  But right now she had no choice—there was no way round the need to actually speak with him face to face.

  Get on with it, Kaitlin.

  She pushed the door open and entered, swallowed the catch of breath that afflicted her whenever she saw him. Sitting on the sofa, intent on his laptop, he looked so...yummy. Dark hair shower-damp, dressed in a white T-shirt that showed the honey tone of his skin, the muscular forearms with a smattering of hair.

  He turned to look at her, and heat lit his blue eyes for a scant second.

  ‘Hi. Sorry—I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ He pushed the screen away from him and rubbed a hand over his face. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘I... I wondered if I could talk to you about something?’

  ‘Sure. Would you like a drink? You definitely deserve one—you’ve done a brilliant job the past two days.’

  The words were warm, yet the tone didn’t match—there was a near cynicism that confused her. ‘You sound surprised. Or upset?’

  A frown creased his forehead as he rose and walked to the sideboard, where he opened a bottle of red wine. Turning, he shrugged. ‘Not at all. As you said, you had a job to do and you have executed it perfectly. The press have loved this aspect of Lady Kaitlin. So have the teenagers.’

  Again, despite the positive words she sensed an undercurrent.

  ‘I sense a reservation.’

  He hesitated, and then tipped his palms in the air. ‘I don’t get it. Is it real or a gigantic PR exercise to you? You seem so natural with the teenagers, and I can’t tell if you mean it or if you are simply furthering your image.’ He poured the wine into two glasses. ‘Not that it matters.’

  Anger and hurt swirled together in her stomach. ‘Excuse me? You think I’m faking this?’

  ‘That’s it. I don’t know. You are the one who told me image is everything.’

  The words halted her—she had said that, and when she had agreed to do this her motivation had been to introduce a new facet of Lady Kaitlin Derwent. Accepting the glass he handed her, she looked down into the ruby liquid and thought back over the past days. Looked back up at him.

  ‘These past days haven’t been about my image. It’s been about them.’ Tom and Celia and Liz and Darren and...and all the youngsters she’d spoken with. ‘Some of what they have been through makes my blood run cold. I like every one of them and I want to help them. For real—not as part of a PR exercise for me.’

  She broke off at the sudden smile that turned up his lips and made her tummy flip. ‘What?’

  ‘That’s the first time you’ve sounded so passionate about something.’

  ‘I do feel passionate about it. Until now most of my charitable efforts have been attending events or fundraising for Derwent Manor. This is different. I’ve never felt so involved. I care about these kids.’ She glanced at him and the knowledge of a shared belief made warmth bubble inside her. ‘I think you do too.’

  Because she’d seen him—the way he spoke with them, the discussions he’d had with them—she’d seen how serious some of them had been. Had also seen his patience as he explained how to do something, the way he’d genuinely listened to them, bantered, joked...as if he felt a connection.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Why?’ Kaitlin hadn’t meant to ask the question but she wanted to know.

  ‘Why do you?’ he countered.

  ‘Because they have made me realise how lucky I am—made me see how petty my own concerns are.’ Even the horror of her kidnap faded into insignificance against what some of the children had had to face in their short lifespans. ‘They’ve made me...feel.’ The admission was almost too much, though it was true—these kids had got under her skin. ‘Feel as if I want to help,’ she completed hurriedly. ‘Now your turn.’

  ‘It’s as you said. For years I have spent every minute of the day focused on success. My success. These past days I’ve wanted to help them.’

  They stared at each other—the shared revelation buzzed between them, created a connection that shimmered in the air.

  Kaitlin took a gulp of wine, felt the spice and berry notes tingle on her tongue as she tried to pull her shattered senses into order. ‘Which brings me to my idea.’

  ‘Go ahead. But sit down first.’

  She sank down onto the cream armchair and tucked her feet under her. ‘I know the outdoors is important, and how much benefit the kids have reaped from the kayaking and the hiking. But I want to do something a bit different tomorrow.’

  ‘You don’t have to do anything tomorrow. You’ve done your bit.’

  ‘I know, but I want to—and I believe I’ve come up with something useful. Most of those children don’t want charity—they want to make it on their own. The problem is the odds are stacked against them from the get-go. They will be judged because of their backgrounds and if they get knocked back time and again they will give up. I want to increase the odds of their success. I want to teach them how to project confidence even when they don’t feel it inside, to wear the right clothes, walk the right walk.’ All the things she had painstakingly done to construct Lady Kaitlin Derwent. ‘That will give them an edge.’

  ‘Is that how you feel? No confidence on the inside?’

  His voice was low, genuine, and the edges of her façade crumbled.

  ‘Of course not.’ The words sounded brittle, even to her own ears. She uncurled her feet, placed the wine glass down with a thunk and rose to her feet. ‘Anyway, this isn’t about me. The point is I’d like to do this. I’ll take them shopping—you don’t need designer outfits or lots of money, it’s getting the colours right, a suitable cut, finding a style. I can help them—I know I can. So what do you think?’

  ‘I think it’s a fantastic idea.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘I do.’

  Kaitlin felt her lips curve up in a completely spontaneous smile. ‘Fabulous.’ She took a step forward, towards him. ‘Thank you, Daniel.’ Reaching out, she put a hand on his arm.

  Big mistake, Kaitlin.

  She’d swear she’d heard a fizz as her fingers contacted with his skin. Worse, she might well have given the smallest of moans.

  Move your hand.

  But her brain refused to send the requisite signal. Instead her gaze remained riveted to her hand on his arm.

  ‘Kaitlin...’

  His voice was ever so slightly strained and she looked up, saw the unmistakeable heat in his eyes and felt an answering thrill.

  ‘I...’ />
  ‘Dammit.’

  With that he put his hand on her waist and gently tugged her forward into his embrace.

  Desire knocked common sense down and trampled it; her arms reached up and looped round his neck. And then his lips touched hers and she was lost.

  The taste of wine, the clean, just-out-of-the-shower scent of him, the intensity as he deepened the kiss all spiralled inside her. Thought was impossible. Ripples of desire tugged her nerve-endings and the intensity of sensation hollowed her tummy, caused a deep yearning for more. Pressing herself against him, she revelled in the strength of his body, in his small groan as she parted her lips.

  She never wanted the moment to end—but finally common sense picked itself off the floor and shrieked a message, jolted her back to reality.

  Pulling back, she stared at him—then away. Caught an image of herself in the ornate gilt mirror above the mantel. Hell. She barely recognised herself. Flushed, lips swollen, hair dishevelled, eyes glazed. What was she doing?

  Focus—she had to pull this together. Had to locate her true self, pull the Lady Kaitlin Derwent mantle round her.

  ‘I’m sorry. That was obviously not a good move for either of us.’

  Amazing how she could keep her voice so light. A quick smooth of her hair, a step backwards and an aloof, self-deprecating smile.

  ‘I think the wine must have gone to my head on top of all that unaccustomed exercise. The best thing is to forget all about it and put it behind us.’

  His blue eyes bored into her. ‘If that’s what you want.’

  Her heart pounded her ribcage. ‘There isn’t any alternative.’

  ‘Sure there is. There is always a choice, Kaitlin. We could take this further. Instead of fighting this attraction we could enjoy it. Enjoy Venice together.’

  Temptation crooked a finger and Kaitlin dug her nails into her palms. At least think about it, wailed her inner voice, but this time Kaitlin was prepared, and common sense was ready and waiting.

  ‘The risk is too great. All it takes is for one reporter to suspect. Hell, we could have been photographed through the window just now. And I won’t risk the scandal for the sake of a few hours in bed.’

  Her parents would be livid, the press would have a field-day and she would have regrets—because it wasn’t Lady Kaitlin Derwent’s style.

  ‘So from now on it is business all the way. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  DANIEL LOOKED ACROSS the private jet to where Kaitlin sat, back ramrod-straight, not so much as a crease in her white and blue floral dress, her focus apparently completely on the book in her hand. No sign now of the Kaitlin of two days before, curled up on the sofa, relaxed and animated, as she talked about her plans for the teens.

  That Kaitlin had gone for good after the kiss they had shared—a kiss that still haunted his body and his mind. Despite the common sense that told him he had been a fool one hundred times over to suggest a fling with Kaitlin. Kaitlin was too complex, too different from the women he usually slept with.

  Plus, the idea was fraught with risks of disastrous consequences for either or both of them. Three days with Kaitlin wasn’t worth the risk of having his family unearthed. Three days with him wasn’t worth Kaitlin scuppering her chances of a reunion with Prince Frederick or an alliance with some other member of royalty.

  That was what she wanted—the path she had chosen or had had chosen for her—a life of wealth and security and pomp and ceremony and children. He could offer her only the first, on a temporary basis—hardly an offer worth consideration. And an offer he should never had considered.

  He must have been mad to so much as kiss her.

  Since then she had been coolly polite, kept herself distant both physically and mentally, and they hadn’t exchanged a word in private, hadn’t spent more than a minute alone. But, hell, he had a captive audience now, at forty thousand feet in the air—there was nowhere for her to go and his inner devil prompted him to speak.

  ‘Good book?’ he enquired.

  ‘Very, thank you.’

  ‘Hmm... Because I can’t help but notice you haven’t turned a page in the past twenty minutes.’

  Her lips pressed together in clear annoyance. ‘You must be mistaken.’

  ‘I don’t think so. You do realise that even though we have decided not to pursue our attraction further that doesn’t mean we have to give up on actual conversation?’

  ‘Conversation is overrated.’ Kaitlin shook her head. ‘Sorry—that was rude. But it was conversation that led us to being so stupid, so it seems to me that we should keep all contact to a minimum.’

  ‘I don’t think that will work.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I figure we need to talk about what happened and this seems like a good opportunity.’

  ‘There is nothing to say.’

  ‘So you still want to try and pretend it didn’t happen?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Make like that kiss was imaginary?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Not going to work. You don’t want the press or anyone to suspect a connection between us—but ignoring our attraction will make our body language awkward and we’ll pitch a vibe someone like April Fotherington will pick up. We have a press conference scheduled before the ball. And after.’

  ‘So what’s your solution?’

  ‘We spend as much time together as possible and eradicate the awkwardness.’

  He could almost see another negative trembling on her lips, and then she closed her eyes and muttered something under her breath. Something that sounded like, ‘Lady Kaitlin, do your stuff.’

  Opening her eyes, she looked at him coolly. ‘Fair enough. We’ll give that a try. Let’s start now and discuss the plan for Venice.’ Leaning down, she pulled out the ubiquitous notebook. ‘I’ve already looked at all the auction items and done some research. I’ve also studied the guest list and identified any people I know—art gallery owners or family friends—so I’ll make sure I network with them, raise awareness so that people will dig deep at the auction. I’ll also see if I can persuade a few more donations out of people as surprise items for the auction.’

  ‘Sounds like you have it covered. Just like you had it covered with the kids. You’ve been so busy hiding out in your room I haven’t had a chance to tell you how impressed I was. Your workshop was amazing.’

  Kaitlin had taken the youngsters shopping, given each one of them a one-on-one tutorial on style and budget, followed by a workshop on image projection. There had been gales of laughter, and at the end of it they had all looked like new people. He’d been left in no doubt that any preconceptions about aristocracy had been knocked to flinders.

  ‘Enough so that I want to talk to Ethan and Ruby about you running those workshops regularly, if you would be up for it.’

  ‘Really?’

  For a moment her face lit up and he blinked at the sheer beauty of her.

  ‘Really. What do you think?’

  Suddenly, like the Christmas tree lights being extinguished on Twelfth Night, her expression was closed off. ‘It may be too big a commitment. I guess the workshops would be all over the country, and it would be hard for me to juggle them. Maybe I could train someone else to do them?’

  Daniel frowned ‘Or maybe you could throw in the art gallery job and build up a whole new business? People would pay to learn how to project confidence. You have the organisational skills needed, and the business acumen, and...’

  A firm shake of her head greeted this suggestion. Firm enough that her gorgeous hair rippled. ‘I’m happy where I am now. I don’t want to stray out of my comfort zone. I know where I am with the art gallery and I like that.’

  Daniel frowned, wondered why Kaitlin had set her comfort zone at such a lo
w threshold. Something didn’t add up, but the rigidity of her expression indicated that she wouldn’t be offering him the solution to the sum.

  Her head bent over the notebook. ‘Ethan seems to have been a bit vague about exactly what he needs us to do prior to the ball.’

  ‘Make sure all the arrangements are in place—check the catering, ensure all the auction items have been collected and stored. With luck we’ll have some time to explore Venice. Have you been before?’

  ‘No.’ Her expression was neutral, with no hint of anticipation at visiting one of the most historic, beautiful cities in the world. ‘Have you?’

  ‘Yes. Once.’

  His mother had always wanted to go to Venice—had told him how his father and she had dreamed of one day settling in the city where his father’s people had originated. Daniel had promised her that one day he would take her. Instead he had gone on his own, in celebration when he’d graduated from law school. He had wandered the narrow streets and determination had pulsed in his veins that he would succeed and one day he would bring his mother to the city.

  Now, eight years later, he was no longer so sure and loss touched him.

  Seeing her eyes rest on his face with question and concern, he smiled. ‘It’s an incredible place.’

  ‘I am quite happy to field the organisational side of the ball to give you time to see Venice,’ she offered.

  ‘Absolutely not. We’ve agreed that the more time we spend together the better.’ An arrangement that suddenly seemed foolhardy. ‘So we’ll organise together and explore together.’

  A definite wince greeted his suggestion, but before he could comment the pilot announced their descent to Marco Polo airport and he figured it was better to leave well enough alone.

  * * *

  As Kaitlin emerged from the jet onto the Tarmac she could feel the onset of panic start to unfurl in her tummy, despite her efforts to prepare. Airports always had the ability to overwhelm her—too dangerous, insecure, too busy.

  Instinct had her stepping her towards Daniel.

  Bad idea.