An Enticing Debt to Pay

To Jonas’ surprise unfamiliar heat rose under his skin. True, his behaviour was crass, calculated to unnerve rather than reassure. But he felt no need to ingratiate himself with his father’s mistress or her crony.

He took his time swinging around to meet her eyes.

‘Then perhaps you’ll do me the courtesy of answering my question. Who are you?’

‘I thought that would be obvious. I’m Ravenna. Silvia’s daughter.’

* * *

Ravenna watched shock freeze Jonas’ features.

You’d think after all these years she’d be used to it, but still it struck her a blow.

She’d been a gawky child, all long limbs and feet and a nose it had taken years to grow into. With her dark, Italian looks, exotic name and husky voice she’d been the odd one out in her English country schools. When people saw her with her petite, ravishingly beautiful mother, the kindest comments had been about her being ‘different’ or ‘striking’. The unkindest, at the boarding school her mother had scrimped to send her to—well, she’d put that behind her years ago.

But she’d thought Jonas would remember her, even if she’d worn braces and plaits last time they’d met.

True it had taken her a few moments to recognise him. To reconcile the grim, abrasive intruder in the exquisitely tailored clothes with the young man who’d treated her so kindly the day he’d found her curled in misery behind the stables. He’d been softer then, more understanding. To her dazed teenage eyes he’d shone like a demigod, powerful, reassuring and sexy in the unattainable way of movie stars.

Who’d have thought someone with such charm could turn into a louse?

Only the sex appeal was unchanged.

She looked again into those narrowed pewter-grey eyes that surveyed her so closely.

No, that had changed too. The softness of youth had been pared from Jonas Deveson’s features, leaving them austerely sculpted and attractively spare, the product of generations of aristocratic breeding. He wasn’t a chinless wonder of pampered privilege but the sort of hard-edged, born-to-authority man you could imagine defending Deveson Hall astride a warhorse, armed with sword and mace.

From his superbly arrogant nose to his strong chin, from his thick, dark hair to his wide shoulders and deep chest, Jonas was the sort to make females lose their heads.

How could she find him attractive when he oozed disapproval? When his barely veiled aggression had kept her on tenterhooks from the moment he stalked in the door?

But logic had little to do with the frisson of awareness skimming Ravenna’s skin and swirling in her abdomen.

Steadily she returned his searching look. No matter how handsome he was, or how used to command, she wasn’t about to fall in with his assumption of authority.

‘What’s your business with my mother?’ Ravenna sat back, crossing one leg over the other and placing her hands on the arms of the chair as if totally relaxed.

He flicked a look from her legs to her face and she felt a prick of satisfaction that she’d surprised him. Did he expect her to bow and scrape in his presence? The thought shored up her anger.

‘When will she be back?’ No mistaking the banked fury in those flashing eyes. For all his outward show of calm his patience was on a short leash.

‘If you can’t answer politely, you might as well leave.’ Ravenna shot to her feet. She had enough on her plate without dealing with Piers’ privileged son. Just confronting him sapped her already low stamina. The last thing she needed was for him to guess how weak she felt. He’d just railroad her into doing his bidding—he had that look about him.

She was halfway to the door when his words stopped her.

‘My business with your mother is private.’

Slowly she turned, cataloguing the harsh light in his eyes and the straight set of his mouth. Whatever his business it spelled trouble and Mamma wasn’t in any state to deal with him. She was floundering, trying to adjust to the loss of the man she’d loved so ardently. Ravenna had to protect her.

‘My mother’s not in Paris. You can deal with me.’

He shook his head and took a pace towards her. It ate up the space between them alarmingly, bringing him within touching distance.

Did she imagine she felt the heat of his body warm her?

‘Where is she?’ It wasn’t a request but a demand. ‘Tell me now.’

Ravenna curled her fingers into tight fists, her nails scoring her flesh. His high-handed attitude infuriated her.

‘I’m not your servant.’ By a miracle she kept her voice even. She knew the guilt Silvia had suffered for years because of this man’s refusal to reconcile with his father. ‘My mother might have worked for your family once but don’t think you can come here and throw your weight around. You have no power over me.’

Anger pulsed between them, so strong she felt it throb hard against her chest wall.

At least she thought it was anger. The air between them clogged with tension that stole her breath and furred the nape of her neck.

‘But I do have power over your mother.’ The words were silky soft, like an endearment. But it was suppressed violence she heard in that smooth baritone, a clear threat.

‘What do you mean?’ Alarm raised her voice an octave.

‘I mean your mother’s in serious trouble.’

Fear clawed at Ravenna’s throat and she swallowed hard, taking in the pitiless gleam in his silvery eyes.

Understanding hit. ‘You’re not here to help, are you?’

His bark of laughter confirmed the icy foreboding slithering along Ravenna’s spine.

‘Hardly!’ He paused, as if savouring the moment. ‘I’m here to see she goes to prison for her crimes.’

CHAPTER TWO

RAVENNA LOCKED HER knees as the room swirled sickeningly.

She reached out a groping hand to steady herself and grabbed fabric, fingers digging claw-like as she fought panic.

The last few months had been tougher than anything she could once have imagined. They’d tested her to the limits of endurance. But nothing had prepared her to confront such pure hatred as she saw in Jonas Deveson’s face. There was no softness in his expression, just adamantine determination. It scared her to the core.

Shock slammed into her and the knowledge, surer with every gasping breath, that he was serious. He intended to send her mother to prison.

A hand covered hers to the wrist, long fingers encompassing hers easily, sending darts of searing heat through her chilled flesh.

Stunned, Ravenna looked down to find she’d grabbed the only thing near—the lapel of Jonas Deveson’s tailored jacket. Now he held her hard and fast.

‘Are you all right?’ Concern turned his deep voice to mellow treacle. She felt it softening sinew and taut muscle, easing her shocked stasis enough that she finally managed to inhale. The spinning room settled.

She tugged her hand away. Worryingly, she felt cold without that skin-to-skin contact.

Ravenna spun on her foot and paced to the window. This time when she clutched fabric it was the heavy gold swag of curtain. It was rich and smooth under her tingling fingers, but not as reassuring as the fine wool warmed by Jonas Deveson’s body.