Captive in the Millionaire’s Castle

by Lee Wilkinson

  ‘She turned out to be a pleasant, down-to-earth girl, and while we chatted I discovered that I know her boyfriend, Tom Harmen. We both go to the same leisure centre. In fact on a couple of occasions we’ve played squash together when our respective partners failed to show up.

  ‘But to get to the point, when I told Miss Fleming what was being said about her flatmate she was both furious and indignant. She knows Miss Mansell well, they’ve been friends and flatmates for a number of years, and she categorically denied that there was a word of truth in those rumours. In fact she was all for coming into Global and laying into the man responsible for them. But I assured her that now I knew they were lies, I would deal with the culprit myself and make sure that the rumours were scotched.

  ‘So all in all, I think you can rest assured that your new PA is squeaky clean.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Michael said, ‘I appreciate all the trouble you’ve gone to.’

  ‘Any time. Now I must dash, I’m taking Joanne out to supper. Take care!’

  ‘And you.’

  Michael dropped the phone back into his pocket and resumed his seat.

  Jenny, who had been in a brown study, looked up.

  Though she had guessed that he intended to kiss her and known she should stop him, she had sat helpless and waiting.

  When the phone had distracted him, aware that she should feel relieved, she had felt anything but.

  But somehow, for her own sake, she had to find a way to conquer this weakness. If she gave in to him tonight, it would be total surrender. She wouldn’t have the strength to leave in the morning, and they both knew it.

  Then she would become his plaything, his temporary mistress, someone who meant nothing to him apart from a little easy pleasure while he taught his ex-wife a lesson, before taking her back.

  No! She couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it.

  Glancing up, she noticed that he was watching her intently, as though endeavouring to read her thoughts.

  It unnerved her, and, needing something to occupy her hands and help to hide her feelings, she reached to pick up the jug of coffee and fill two cups, while Michael opened the Benedictine and poured a measure of the golden liqueur into a pair of brandy glasses.

  Sitting in the warmth of the fireglow, they drank their coffee and sipped the sweet liqueur in silence.

  But while neither of them spoke, she was only too aware that his eyes seldom left her face.

  In the aftermath of the phone call, she had noticed that he seemed to be more relaxed, more certain, as though some private worry had been resolved and he could see his way forward.

  Now, his mouth firm, the light of conquest in his eye, he looked like a man who intended to storm the fortress and succeed at all costs.

  Feeling the vibes, and sensing that she was the object of his planned siege, she felt shivers begin to chase down her spine.

  Telling herself she was being a fanciful idiot, she struggled to dismiss the idea.

  As the grandfather clock chimed nine-thirty, he remarked, ‘Well, if we are going to have an early night, it’s about time I was starting to make up the bed-settee.’

  She found herself holding her breath when he rose, and, taking the empty glass from her nerveless fingers, set it down, before moving the table against the far wall.

  When he turned back his face was bland, anything but threatening. And as if to prove that she really had let her imagination run away with her, he said, ‘If you’d like to use the bathroom while I do it, you’ll find a robe and plenty of toilet things.’

  Glancing down at her bandaged ankle, he added, ‘My bedroom has an en-suite, so there’s no need to try and hurry.’

  He stooped purposefully, and before she could tell him she didn’t need any help he had slid an arm behind her back and one under her knees and lifted her into his arms.

  Carrying her through to a bathroom that, though old-fashioned, was warm, well equipped and spotlessly clean, he lowered her carefully onto a cork-topped stool.

  Then, opening the door of an airing cupboard, he took out some towels and a pile of bedclothes before asking, ‘Will you be able to manage?’

  There was a another stool in the shower cubicle, and several handgrips, and she answered hastily, ‘Oh, yes, thank you.’

  ‘Well, call if you need me.’ He hung the towels over the rail and departed with the bedclothes, leaving her to prepare for the night.

  Perched on the stool, she managed to wriggle out of her clothes with relative quickness and ease, but because of the need to manoeuvre to keep her bandage dry it took a lot longer than usual to shower.

  When she had finished and dried herself, she stood up carefully, and, taking her weight on her good foot, hopped to the sink.

  Amongst an array of toiletries, there were tubes of toothpaste, several plastic-encased toothbrushes, and a hairbrush and comb.

  A coffee-coloured satin robe lay folded on a nearby shelf, but, guessing that it must have belonged to his ex-wife, she was reluctant to use it.

  Having washed and cleaned her teeth, she brushed out her dark hair, and, leaving it to curl loosely around her shoulders, debated what to sleep in.

  The thought of Michael seeing her in her skimpy undies threw her into a tizzy, and she decided she had very little option but to borrow the robe.

  She had just belted it around her waist and folded her clothes when there was a tap at the door, and Michael’s voice queried, ‘Are you about ready?’

  ‘Yes, quite ready, thank you. But I really don’t need any help.’

  Ignoring that obvious untruth, he came in.

  It must have taken her even longer than she had realized, because he was wearing a short silk robe and was clearly fresh from the shower himself.

  He carried her through to the living-room where the lamps had been switched off, the fire was burning brightly, and the bed-settee, with its pretty, sprigged duvet and plumped up pillows, looked cosy and inviting.

  Settling her back against the soft pillows, he sat down on the edge of the settee and smiled into her eyes.

  ‘Don’t!’ she begged huskily.

  Lifting a dark brow, he asked, ‘Don’t what?’

  ‘You promised you wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do.’

  ‘And I have every intention of keeping that promise,’ he assured her silkily. ‘But I’m quite sure you want me to do this.’ Tilting her chin, he kissed her with slow deliberation.

  His kiss was so feather-light that he could feel her lips trembling beneath his own.

  When she made an effort to draw away, he took her face between his hands, and continued to kiss her, little plucking kisses that coaxed and tantalized and beguiled, yet somehow she managed to keep her lips closed against him.

  Instead of forcing the issue, his mouth began to stray over her face, planting soft, baby kisses on her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her closed eyelids, and the smooth skin beneath her jawline.

  Feeling the way her pulse was racing, he began to nuzzle her neck, and she started to shudder helplessly as, using his lips and teeth and tongue, he delicately nibbled his way down to the warm hollow at the base of her throat.

  When his mouth returned to hers once more, and the tip of his tongue stroked across her lips, they parted beneath his coaxing as if there were no help for it.

  Even when he deepened the kiss, it was slow and careful, as if the gift of her mouth was infinitely precious to him. She had no defences against the sweetness and tenderness of that gentle seduction.

  He continued to kiss her, and soon she was drifting in a kind of blissful daze where neither the past nor the future existed, and nothing in the world mattered but this Michael’s touch and his kisses.

  She was hardly aware that his hands had left her face and his fingers had pushed aside the satin lapels of the gown.

  It was only when he bent his dark head to take a velvety nipple in his mouth that, panic-stricken, she jerked into life.

  If she didn’t stop him now, she w
as lost.

  Twining her fingers in his hair, she tugged.

  He drew back, and just for an instant she glimpsed a look on his face that echoed the kind of bliss she had been feeling before that sudden attack of panic.

  ‘What’s wrong, my love?’

  There was no trace of the anger she had expected, and his quiet endearment made her heart stop.

  Dragging the lapels together over her breasts, she said hoarsely, ‘I don’t want you to make love to me.’

  He shook his head. ‘All your reactions tell me plainly that you do want me to make love to you.’

  ‘I don’t,’ she insisted.

  Sounding completely unmoved, he said quietly, ‘You’re lying.’

  Gritting her teeth, she said, ‘I told you before, I’ve never believed in casual sex, and I don’t want to get involved with my boss.’

  ‘You’re already involved,’ he pointed out flatly.

  ‘That was a mistake I’m bitterly sorry for. I only wish it had never happened…’

  Just for an instant he looked as if she’d struck him, and her heart turned over.

  ‘For one thing,’ she ploughed on desperately, ‘there’s your wife—’

  ‘My ex-wife,’ he corrected. ‘And as far as Claire’s concerned I’m—’

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ Jenny broke in bitterly. ‘You’re in no hurry to take her back until you’re satisfied that she’s learnt her lesson. Well, I’ve always believed that if you marry someone you should be faithful to them—’

  She stopped abruptly, biting her lip. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It sounds terribly strait-laced and judgmental.’

  His expression unreadable, he said, ‘That kind of thinking certainly sounds a little old-fashioned in this day and age. However, that isn’t to say I think you’re wrong…’

  He took her hand and held it, his thumb stroking over the palm.

  ‘Though no doubt Claire would. Her attitude has always been a great deal more worldly. She regards the body simply as something to dress up and get pleasure from.

  ‘And if by any chance we did remarry, when the honeymoon period was over, I’m sure she would want to revert to a “modern” relationship.’

  She snatched her hand free. ‘Well, she may be happy with that, but I wouldn’t want any part of it. I don’t intend to end up as a temporary plaything, “a bit on the side”.’

  ‘Who said anything about a plaything, or “a bit on the side”?’

  Realizing that he wasn’t about to take no for an answer, desperate now, and suddenly seeing a way out, she lied unsteadily, ‘In any case there’s someone else to consider…’

  His eyes narrowed to green slits. ‘Really? So who else is there, may I ask?’

  ‘Someone who… It doesn’t really matter.’

  ‘Oh, but it does.’

  She had hoped not to have to say any more, but the intentness of his gaze told her that there wasn’t a cat in hell’s chance of leaving it like that.

  ‘So who is this someone? A secret boyfriend perhaps?’

  ‘Not exactly secret,’ she said.

  ‘But a boyfriend you failed to mention?’

  ‘Well, yes.’

  ‘At the interview you led me to believe there was no one of any importance in your life.’

  When she said nothing, he pursued, ‘So if you expect me to believe in this man’s existence you’ll have to tell me more about him. To start with, what does he do?’

  Pushed into a corner, and thinking of Laura’s boyfriend, Tom, she answered, ‘He works for one of the smaller airlines.’

  ‘How long have you two been going out together?’

  ‘Quite a while.’

  ‘Is it serious?’

  After a momentary hesitation, she said, ‘Yes.’

  Watching her face closely, and almost certain that she was lying, he queried, ‘How serious? He hasn’t by any chance produced a ring and proposed?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, he has.’

  ‘So why did you lie to me at the interview?’

  ‘I… I didn’t,’ she denied.

  ‘You told me you hadn’t a fiancé.’

  Hoping Laura would forgive her, she said, ‘I haven’t. I didn’t accept his proposal.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I—I needed time to think it over.’

  ‘So you decided to take the job until you’d made up your mind?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Didn’t he object to you leaving London?’

  ‘He doesn’t know anything about it. He’s abroad on business for the next few weeks, and we agreed not to contact each other while he was away.’

  ‘But presumably he’ll be expecting an answer when he gets back?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What do you intend to tell him?’

  Deciding to stall, she said, ‘I still haven’t made up my mind.’

  ‘What’s he like?’

  ‘Kind and thoughtful and generous.’

  ‘Describe him.’

  A little wildly, she said, ‘He’s in his early twenties, blond, handsome, fun to be with, and loaded with charm.’

  ‘Every girl’s dream,’ Michael commented sarcastically. ‘You said he was generous. Does that mean he buys you presents?’

  Growing increasingly stressed, she said, ‘He bought me a gift for St Valentine’s day.’

  ‘What kind of a gift?’

  ‘A bracelet watch.’

  ‘I haven’t seen you wearing it.’

  ‘It’s too dressy for work. It’s the kind of thing you’d wear in the evening, or for special occasions.’

  ‘So why weren’t you wearing it at Mr Jenkins’s retirement party?’

  ‘How do you know I wasn’t?’ Then almost accusingly, ‘You were there!’

  ‘For a short time.’

  It gave her a strange feeling to realize that he had been at the party and she hadn’t even seen him.

  ‘But it was only for Global’s staff and employees,’ she protested, ‘so how did you—?’

  Breaking off, she answered her own question. ‘Of course, you’re a friend of Paul Levens.’

  Then recalling Michael’s reputation for being antisocial, she asked, ‘Why were you there?’

  ‘I came especially to have a look at you.’

  For a moment she was taken aback, then realization dawned. ‘You mean before you asked Mr Levens to set up the interview?’

  A gleam in his eye, he asked, ‘Can you blame me?’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’

  Returning to the attack, he said, ‘But we were discussing your boyfriend. Do you and he sleep together?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Desperate to get the interrogation over, she said, ‘Until now I haven’t been absolutely sure of my feelings.’

  ‘Until now… Does that mean you’ve finally made up your mind?’

  She swallowed, then, knowing she had to sound convincing, said, ‘Yes. I love him.’

  Momentarily, Michael’s certainty that she was lying was rocked.

  Then the way she was avoiding his eyes made him wonder, and he returned to the attack once more.

  ‘If you had been sure of your feelings previously, would you have slept with him?’

  ‘I—I might have done.’

  ‘But you would have to love a man before you went to bed with him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘By the way, you still haven’t told me what this boyfriend of yours is called.’

  Her mind went completely and utterly blank.

  Seeing he was waiting, and knowing that everything depended on being able to answer convincingly, she blurted out, ‘His name’s Tom Harmen. Now I refuse to answer any more questions.’

  All uncertainty set at rest, Michael felt a surge of mingled relief and triumph.

  ‘Just one last thing. How do you feel about me?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I asked how you felt about me? Do you love me
?’

  ‘No—no, of course not,’ she stammered.

  ‘So why did you go to bed with me?’

  ‘I’ve told you,’ she cried jerkily. ‘I hadn’t intended it to happen.’

  ‘You couldn’t help yourself?’

  When she failed to answer, just stared at him, he smiled, a slow smile of satisfaction that made her blood run cold, and she heard the clang of the trap closing behind her even before he drew her close and kissed her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THOUGH Jenny wanted so badly to stay in Michael’s arms, somehow she gathered the will power to pull herself free. ‘No. I can’t let this happen. I—’

  ‘If you’re going to tell me again that you have a boyfriend you love, you’re wasting your time. I know you’re lying,’ he added flatly.

  She half shook her head, then said in despair, ‘No, that isn’t it.’

  ‘So what is?’

  ‘You know perfectly well.’

  ‘Tell me something. If Claire wasn’t still in the picture, would you feel the same?’

  ‘But she is.’

  ‘That’s just it, she isn’t. You see—’

  ‘How can you say that? If you think for just one moment that I—’

  Putting a finger against her lips to stop the indignant flow of words, Michael said patiently, ‘Will you please listen to me? I have absolutely no intention of taking Claire back. Everything was absolutely over, finished, when I divorced her.’

  He paused to let that sink in while she stared at him, her lovely brown eyes mirroring her hopes and fears and remaining doubts.

  ‘Over?’

  ‘Over.’

  Hardly able to believe it, she whispered, ‘You won’t be taking her back?’

  ‘No matter what lies she may be feeding to the newspapers, I won’t be taking her back.’

  Then with soft impatience, ‘Now will you be still and let me make love to you before this wanting burns me up…?’

  He wasn’t taking his ex-wife back. He wasn’t taking her back!

  Jenny gave a little sigh, and as he bent his head her eyes drifted shut, and her chin rose to expose the long line of her throat.

  Running his fingers into her dark, silky hair, he held her face between his palms and kissed her with a passionate tenderness.