The Blackmailed Bride (7 page)

‘We'll discuss it now!' Kate cut shrilly into his formal declaration; if she fell for this phoney concerned line she'd start forgetting who the enemy was.

Javier scanned her flushed agitated face thoughtfully. ‘That is probably not a good idea.'

‘As it happens, I don't give a damn what you consider a good idea,' she revealed. The biting scorn of her delivery was spoiled by the weak little wobble in her voice.

‘As you wish,' he replied, resuming his seat beside the bed. ‘I'm assuming you were acting as an agent for…whom exactly…when you broke into that room? The person in the photos? Your sister?'

Kate's tone became increasingly desperate as she sensed herself being pushed into a corner. ‘I didn't break in; the door was open…' She might as well have saved her breath; he brushed aside her feeble protest with a lofty gesture.

Javier took her lack of denial concerning the identity as confirmation of his suspicions. ‘And she was being blackmailed by Gonzalez? He was her lover?'

Kate released a fractured gasp. ‘He's not her lover,' she denied. ‘He tricked her…maybe even—' She stopped, dismay washing over her as she realised her response had only confirmed Susie's identity. ‘How did you…?' she began.

‘It hardly required a giant leap to reach these conclusions. Listening to your parents' conversation, it was clear that your sister is somewhat indulged… The sort of person who would send someone else to do her dirty work.'

Kate would have given a lot to have denied this scarily accurate assessment.

‘You know nothing about our family situation,' she protested gruffly.

‘True,' he conceded, his eyes fixed on his own long interlaced fingers not her face. ‘But sometimes families are not so very different.' The curtain of long dark lashes lifted and Kate briefly saw the shadow of something that looked like deep sorrow; it was there so briefly she couldn't decide if she had imagined it or not.

‘Take the robe off,' he urged, revealing an unexpected smile of extraordinary charm which lightened his sombre, clean-cut features dramatically and left Kate's lungs fighting to replace the air she had expelled in one startled gasp. When he chose to display it, he had charisma that was off the scale. ‘Before you spike a fever once more, for which I will no doubt be blamed.'

‘I am a little tired,' she conceded reluctantly.

‘Bruised, battered and bone-weary would be nearer the mark, I suspect.'

She should have found this concern coming from the very person she held accountable for her plight a theme for her scorn, but bizarrely she found his consideration and his accented deep tone oddly soothing. Frowning, Kate puzzled over her bizarre response as she slid her arms out of the robe beneath a modestly adjusted duvet.

Her own actions paled into insignificance beside the truly bizarre thing her suspicious sideways stare then revealed. The amazing sight of Javier Montero rearranging her pillows could safely be positioned in the extreme end of bizarre—just about where it started nudging surreal!

He seemed to perform the task most proficiently for a rich playboy.

‘Comfortable?' he asked as she collapsed weakly back against them.

Kate nodded, her eyelids felt heavy and it was hard to focus on his dark face. ‘If I told anyone you just did that
they'd never believe me…' she observed, unable to stifle a jaw-cracking yawn. ‘Don't worry, I'm not likely to do so…tell anyone, that is,' she added swiftly, in case he thought him shaking her pillows was something she might want to boast about in future.

His compelling gaze swept her face—Kate could only imagine what she looked like after the trauma of the evening.

‘I'm not worried,' he revealed enigmatically before leaving.

A sleepily disarmed and confused Kate was just drifting off to sleep in the quiet of the bedroom when she realised that she still hadn't regained possession of the photographs for Susie.

‘In the morning,' she promised herself out loud.

W
HEN
Kate awoke, the strands of golden light filtering through the wooden shutters had cast a dappled pattern over the wall beside the bed. For a while she lay there, watching the shifting pattern.

Arm curved above her head, her fingertips brushed across the carved headboard as she stretched languidly; the vast carved bed and fine linen were deliciously decadent. The enervating languor lasted approximately twenty seconds, right up to the point where her memories of the previous night came flooding back.

Why did it have to happen to me…?

Not a person inclined to wallow, she only indulged her self-pitying reflections for a few moments. By the time she turned her head towards the tantalising, nose-twitching smell and had discovered an attractively presented tray set beside the big bed, Kate was in a more pragmatic and positive frame of mind.

She was going to get Susie's photos back and then get on with the rest of her much-needed holiday, her encounter with Javier Montero completely forgotten. An image of his dark, devastatingly attractive features flashed through her head—well, perhaps not
completely,
but he would soon be a nasty memory.

To her surprise Kate discovered she was hungry—very hungry. This had to be a good sign, didn't it?

A few cautious stretches confirmed that most of the aches and pains from the previous night had gone, and when she rotated her head it thankfully no longer felt as though a miniature percussionist was pounding away inside her
skull. Whatever bug had made her feel so awful seemed to have succumbed to her own immune system.

There was plenty to appease her healthy hunger and on reflection there didn't seem any danger of placing herself any deeper in Javier's debt by accepting this hospitality. As she surveyed the food she tried with only partial success not to wonder about who might have placed her breakfast there while she lay sleeping. Had Javier kept vigil the entire night or had he delegated the task? The latter seemed much more likely.

Trying to dispel the persistent image in her head of him watching her as she slept, Kate picked up a roll from the selection of breads; it was warm and just asking to be covered with lashings of the golden butter and honey that lay beside it. Her dry mouth watered at the sight of the pot of coffee set beside the comprehensive assortment of fresh fruit. Lifting the cover from the plate, she discovered a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs; with a fork she speared a sliver of smoked salmon from the mound and found it delicious.

Kate had showered, but was still dressing in the clothes she'd been amazed to discover folded neatly over the back of a chair in the bathroom, when she heard sounds coming from the adjoining room. The clothes fitted very well, but then they would; Kate had only purchased the pale green wrap around skirt and halter neck top the previous week.

She was sliding her feet into the soft leather open-toed mules—also new—when there was an extra loud rattle. Either someone was very noisy or they were tactfully letting her know she wasn't alone… She decided this ruled out Javier, who hadn't so far shown any sign of possessing either tact or delicacy!

Despite her conviction that it wasn't him, Kate couldn't help but wish, as she surveyed her pale face in the mirror, that her small make-up bag had been included with her other cosmetics. Not that, having been blessed with a
creamy, flawless complexion and naturally dark lashes, she wore anything in the summer but a natural-looking lip-gloss and the occasional dusting of eyeshadow.

Kate would have strongly rebuffed any suggestion that this desire to don face-paint had anything to do with any underlying motive on her part to impress anyone—especially if the
anyone
in question was Javier Montero. This was about feeling confident and, call her shallow, but like most women a coat of lippy could make her feel more assured, and when dealing with an unknown quantity like Javier Montero she needed all the help she could get!

She caught sight of her femininely curved behind in the mirror and the defiant set of her shoulders relaxed as a rueful smile spread across her mobile features. Who am I kidding? Of course I'd like to knock him dead; who wouldn't?

It wasn't going to happen outside her dreams though because, truth told, unlike Susie and similarly blessed females, she simply wasn't endowed with the equipment to impress that way.

 

‘I hope you didn't lock the bathroom door.'

Javier must have very acute hearing, she thought, because he had his back turned to her so couldn't have seen her cautiously entering the bedroom.

He sounded irritated. Not the most auspicious of beginnings, she thought in dismay. Still, if he was as fed up with her as his broad back suggested—what an extraordinarily expressive anatomy he had, she marvelled, momentarily diverted by the shape of his broad, splendidly muscled shoulders and strong straight spine.

Though this started off as an innocently innocuous line of thought, somewhere between his trim waist and snaky hips it took a sharp detour into a lot less virtuous territory, anatomically speaking!

Wrenching free from this downward mental spiral, Kate took a deep breath and began again—distracting anatomical observations strictly banned this time around!

He must be fed up with her; she'd been nothing but a nuisance to him. It stood to reason that he might feel inclined to hand over the photos without any fuss just to get shot of her.

The harsh scowl revealed on his lean, saturnine features as he turned around confirmed her assumption he was not in the best of moods. Standing there, gazing at her critically over long, steepled fingers, she discovered that the man looked much more remote than her overnight mental image of him, and, in a different way, even more threatening than the criminal she had once taken him for.

Whatever else he was, this man was spectacular, she conceded as her heart began to race so frantically it felt as if it might explode from her tight chest any moment. He also had more moods and faces than anyone she'd ever met!

Kate felt no desire to delve beneath the surface of this obviously complex man; superficial details were causing her enough problems, she decided, averting her gaze from the faint shadow of dark body hair she could see through the classic white shirt tucked into a pair of tailored pale linen trousers he wore this morning. Nothing about his vital, arresting figure suggested he hadn't had an uneventful eight hours sleep.

No doubt he was one of those tiresome types who could survive indefinitely on cat naps and coffee, whereas she needed her full eight hours to function at all.

His steely, sweeping scrutiny left her with the vague impression that he found her appearance in some way lacking.

A burst of antagonism made her skin prickle.
So what?
Since when did it matter to me, she challenged herself, that some man didn't like my outfit? It was plain daft to feel
aggrieved; he was entitled to his opinion, just like she was entitled not to give a damn!

My appearance is probably a bit of a shock, she reflected contemptuously. He probably doesn't appreciate that it takes the glamorous types he wakes up next to ninety per cent of their time to look that way. These women dedicated to looking beautiful had almost certainly spoilt him for ordinary women like herself.

Fortunately she had never been attracted to the smouldering Southern Mediterranean type.

He could exploit his sexual magnetism for all it was worth; she wasn't going to be distracted. She had to stay focused! Think more about Susie and less about his stern, sensual mouth.

Her chin tilted to an aggressive angle that reflected her militant frame of mind she sauntered across the room.

‘If you think this is bad, you should have seen me before the shower!' she snapped with a toss of her head.

Javier had.

He over the years had a number of lovers, but he was not in the habit of spending the entire night with them; perhaps that was why her face in repose had fascinated him so much. He judged it possibly wasn't a good idea, considering her overt hostility, to share these details with her.

‘Have I done something to offend you?'

Other than look so damned superior? ‘I didn't care for your tone.' Kate didn't care for the gleam of amusement in his eyes as he watched her progression across the room, either.

‘You have something against Spanish accents?'

‘No, just bossy men of any nationality.' She had no intention of revealing that she found his accent extremely attractive; the velvet rasp of his slightly foreign syllables sent forbidden little shivers down her spine.

‘I didn't lock the door…'

She bent her head forwards and shook out her damp hair, teasing the knots in the silken threads with her fingers and showering his immaculate person with wet droplets. Throwing her head back she intercepted an expression in his eyes that almost made her lose her composure—imagined or real, the sensual heat of that fleeting look made her stomach collapse inwards.

‘But if I'd known you were in here I definitely would have!' she boasted huskily.

One ebony brow arched expressively. He didn't appear impressed by this slightly desperate display of how unintimidated she was by him—but then it was hard to establish indifference when your voice quivered and shook.

‘And if you'd collapsed?'

Well aware she didn't have a leg to stand on, she responded to this common-sense observation with a disdainful toss of her head.

‘As you can see.' She held her arms wide and performed a graceful twirl for his benefit. ‘I'm fit and well,' she finished triumphantly as her billowing skirts settled back around the long line of her thighs. ‘Not a wobble in sight,' she lied cheerfully.

She'd have felt a lot more like smiling if the fact her head was spinning crazily had something to do with the manoeuvre or her weakened condition, but it didn't; it was breathing the same air as this wretched man that turned her into some sort of hormonal junkie!

‘No headache, no ache and pains. In fact I'm absolutely fine.'

He picked up a peach from her breakfast tray and bit into the soft flesh.

A sigh snagged in Kate's throat; the fruit had left a faint film of moisture on the sensual outline of his lips, and her stomach muscles spasmed viciously.

‘Before you cartwheel around the room…' Javier dwelt
indulgently for a split second on the image of her cart-wheeling around the room in that skirt, so demure, but inclined, even when cartwheels were not involved, to expose intriguing glimpses of creamy thigh.

Kate intercepting the direction of his fixed stare glanced down, wondering if she had a blob of toothpaste or something on her skirt that had offended his fastidious senses. She smoothed the fabric with her hand but couldn't see anything amiss. When she looked back up his gaze was now fixed on her face, his expression impassive, though there was a curious dark line of colour along the crests of his sharp sculpted cheekbones.

‘…Or do fifty push-ups, possibly? I feel I should point out I am quite prepared to accept the fact you were suffering from a twenty-four hour bug and concussion. Your mother—' he shook his dark head slowly from side to side. ‘Now that might be a different story. I suspect she won't be satisfied by anything less than a medical certificate and a week's quarantine…and your sister, I got the impression earlier that she was quite happy to have you stay here.'

Kate's face fell as she was struck by the accuracy of his observation. Her mother was not the sort of person to expose herself to the risk of infection, no matter how minuscule that risk might be.

‘You saw Susie?'

Javier had seen many
Susies
and this one had made as little lasting impression as the others. For his money, this sister was much more memorable. The sort of woman his grandfather would consider had fire; he was pleased to see that, true to her word, she didn't try and hide those insignificant scars, which to his mind only emphasised the creamy perfection of the rest of her smooth skin.

At a moment when Kate had rarely felt less composed, she would have been astonished to learn that he was admiring her confidence.

He inclined his head. ‘A temperature of one hundred and two didn't keep you in bed, so I doubted if doctor's orders or myself would have better luck today. I thought you might like to wear your own things this morning. I must say, you look quite charming…'

Kate was dismayed to find herself shifting awkwardly from foot to foot and colouring up hotly like a schoolgirl at the unexpected but slick compliment.

‘If it wasn't for the bruise…'

Kate forced herself not to retreat as he moved unexpectedly forwards and, lifting up her fringe, ran a fingertip gently over the discolorated area on her temple.

‘You wouldn't know anything had happened. Sorry,' he apologised as she caught her breath sharply.

Kate nodded her head and smoothed her hair back down as his hand fell away. She wasn't about to reveal, not even if her life depended on it, that pain had had nothing to do with her response. The stab of sharp sexual awareness that had jolted through her body at his touch made further self-deception on her part futile.

She ran the tip of her tongue over her dry lips. ‘It's bit tender, but don't worry—I'm not contemplating litigation.'

‘Probably wise in the circumstances,' he observed drily. ‘The truth would do your career more harm than mine.'

‘I wasn't doing anything wrong!' she protested.

‘Ah, but someone in your position not only needs to be above suspicion, but to
appear
to be above suspicion.'

‘That's a horribly cynical thing to say.'

‘But true…'

‘We'll have to agree to differ.' She accompanied her words with a tight smile that didn't reach her wary eyes. ‘Don't worry yourself about my accommodation arrangements, but,' she added casually, as if the idea had just occurred to her, ‘before I leave, I might as well take those photos and be out of your hair…' Some perverse mental
process immediately made her visualise sliding her fingers deep into that dark, glossy thatch.