‘I will consider his offer,’ she said, trying not to laugh. Then she swept out of the office with the imperious glare of a disapproving spinster. She walked down the hall to the room where her lover waited and shut the door behind them, turning the key in the lock.
He glanced at the handle. ‘Are you sure that is wise?’
‘It was recommended to me,’ she assured him. ‘Either we lock it, or he will do it for us.’
‘It is always a comfort to have the support of the father when making an offer,’ he said, drily.
‘It is also necessary to have the support of the woman you wish to marry,’ she reminded him.
He hesitated. ‘Once, not long ago, I thought I had it. But if, after you know the truth about me, you have changed your mind, tell me now. I will go immediately and speak no more about this.’
‘Do not be foolish,’ she said, stepping into his arms. ‘As your mother said, it was very long ago.’
‘And I was very young,’ he said, by way of explanation. ‘And I thought I was in love.’
‘Did she love you in return?’
He rested his chin on the top of her head, holding her close. ‘For a time, perhaps. But neither she nor her husband were capable of really loving anyone but themselves.’
‘But what of your son?’ she pressed, and felt him still.
The look in his eyes grew distant. ‘I am honoured to be a friend of the Duke of Cottsmoor,’ he said. ‘He is a fine boy and will be a fine man.’
‘Who will always be welcome in our home,’ she finished.
‘He is alone now. He needs my...’ He paused. ‘He needs our help.’
She nodded. ‘And we both know how hard it can be to lose a parent.’ Then she frowned. ‘I have but one question left.’ She poked him sharply in the ribs. ‘Who is Mary and why is she taking my place as my sister’s friend?’
‘Mary?’ He laughed.
‘Mary,’ she repeated, not bothering to contain her jealousy of the interloper.
‘Mrs Mary Lovell,’ he replied.
‘Your...?’
‘Aunt,’ he finished. ‘Let us say, for convenience’s sake, that she is my aunt. As long as there are people who believe the story about my father the Duke, I would not want my mother to be the subject of speculation. As Belle’s caregiver, she will be living a scant mile from my home.’
‘Where you can see her whenever you like,’ she said, smiling and snuggling back against his chest.
He nodded. ‘It is time that I made amends. It will be good as well for Belle to have a new friend. And it will leave you free to marry. You would be living as near to your sister as I am to my mother.’
The arrangement was almost too perfect and she thanked him for it with a kiss that left them both breathless. When they parted, she asked, ‘Is the scandal of your changing sisters greater or less than that of my sister’s elopement?’
‘At this point, there are so many secrets between us, I cannot rank them,’ he said. ‘I have already procured a special licence. But if you wish to rival your sister, my carriage stands waiting and we can set off for Scotland immediately.’
She thought for a moment, then ran a hand down his chest to press against his heart. ‘I think the sooner the better. But choose what you wish. I have strict instructions to say yes to you, no matter what you request of me.’
He froze and she felt the beat against her hand increase. Then his hands on her back strayed lower, well past the bounds of propriety. ‘Anything?’
‘Anything,’ as he pressed her body tight against him.
And now he was walking slowly forward, pushing her towards the sofa in the corner and down until the weight of his body had sunk hers deep into the cushions. ‘Then, my dearest Amy, if you don’t mind, I think I shall rephrase the question.’
*
EXCLUSIVE EXTRACT
Prince Rafiq must save his desert kingdom’s pride in a prestigious horse race. But he’s shocked when his new equine expert is introduced…as Miss Stephanie Darvill!
Read on for a sneak preview of
THE HARLOT AND THE SHEIKH
by Marguerite Kaye
Prince Rafiq could be wearing tattered rags, and still she would have been in no doubt of his status. It was in his eyes. Not arrogance but a sense of assurance, of entitlement, a confidence that he was master of all he surveyed. And it was there in his stance too, in the set of his shoulders, the powerful lines of his physique. Belatedly garnering the power to move, Stephanie dropped into a deep curtsy.
‘Arise.’
She did as he asked, acutely conscious of her disheveled appearance, dusty clothes, and a face most likely liberally speckled with sand. Those hooded eyes traveled over her person, surveying her from head to foot with a dispassionate, inscrutable expression.
‘Who are you, and why are you here?’ Prince Rafiq asked, when the silence had begun to stretch her nerves to breaking point. He spoke in English, softly accented but perfectly pronounced.
Distracted by the unsettling effect he was having on her while at the same time acutely aware of the need to impress him, Stephanie clasped her hands behind her back and forced herself to meet his eyes, answering in his own language. ‘I am here at your invitation, Your Highness.’