The Hostage Bride

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair! A man like this Rico—a man who had abducted her for who knew what reasons, who had invaded her life and turned it upside down—should at least look on the outside in some way that revealed the darkness of his inner heart. But in his case it was quite the opposite.

She could only see just one small part of his face reflected in the mirror but even like that, foreshortened and distorted, he had the sort of potent good looks that hit home like a punch right in her stomach.

The smooth olive skin, dark eyes and shining jet black silk of his hair all combined with strongly carved cheekbones, impossibly lush curling eyelashes and that sweetly sensual mouth to create the most forceful blueprint of purely masculine beauty she had ever seen.

She couldn’t drag her eyes away but stared, transfixed, until Rico glanced in her direction once more and caught her stunned gaze. Ashamed at being caught watching him, she looked away sharply, staring down at her hands in pained embarrassment.

‘You really should fasten that seatbelt.’ This time his tone made it plain that she’d do better to obey. ‘We’ll be hitting the motorway traffic soon and, while you might be prepared to put your life on the line by flouting the law, I would prefer that you were sensible.’

I would prefer that you were sensible. Did that mean that whatever his plans for her were they didn’t include actually harming her? She couldn’t tell…but rather than risk any further argument she reached for the seatbelt as instructed and pushed it firmly into the holder, relieved to find that her hands were as steady as she could have wished, betraying nothing of her inner turmoil.

‘Rico what?’ she asked as he turned the car onto the feed road to the motorway, the powerful vehicle increasing speed effortlessly at the slightest touch on the accelerator. ‘I take it you do have a surname?’

‘Just Rico will do.’ His attention was on the road as he indicated, steered skilfully out into the traffic.

‘I can find out, you know. Edward will tell me.’

A sign on the side of the road flashed past as she spoke, barely giving her time to register what was written on it. But, as realisation dawned, sudden inspiration struck, giving her an idea.

‘In fact, I’m surprised you ever thought you’d get away with this,’ she went on, talking to fill the silence, to distract him while she thought back over the scheme that had just occurred to her, considering her options, trying to decide if it would work. ‘You must know I’d report you. That I’d tell Mr Venables.’

She didn’t even know if he’d heard her. Not by so much as a blink of an eyelid did he betray any reaction but remained as silent and stony faced as a statue carved from marble.

‘Even if this is just some sort of practical joke, he won’t stand for this behaviour in one of his employees. You’ll lose your job.’

Something gave him away that time. Some small, sideways slanting look, a flicker of those unbelievable eyelashes. Suddenly the truth dawned on her with an appalling sinking feeling deep in her stomach as if she had just swallowed a heavy, leaden weight.

‘It isn’t a job, is it?’ she asked hollowly. ‘I mean, not your job. You don’t work for Edward Venables, do you?’

‘I’d sooner crawl down this motorway on my hands and knees,’ Rico declared and the brutal vehemence of his tone left her in no doubt that he meant what he said. A cold shiver slithered down her spine at the realisation that what lay behind that forceful declaration was a powerful antipathy that she would have to describe as nothing less than hatred.

‘So this is about Edward, not me?’

And not, it seemed, about her father. Which was a relief because, after all the trouble Joe Hamilton had got himself into lately, at least he hadn’t got himself entangled with this brigand of a man.

‘Does that mean you’re not going to…?’

She couldn’t complete the sentence as another realisation rushed into her head, erasing her earlier train of thought.

‘I have no intention of hurting you, if that’s what you mean,’ Rico put in, misunderstanding the reasons for her silence.

No, but he could ruin her life just as easily without even touching her, Felicity reflected unhappily. If she didn’t turn up at the cathedral or at the very least let Edward know that it wasn’t through her own choice that she wasn’t there, he would wreak his vengeance on her father. Joe’s crimes would be exposed, and she would have put herself through all this for nothing.

And the effect on her mother was one she couldn’t even bear to think about.

The appearance of another roadside sign announcing the approach of the motorway services reminded her of her plan of a few moments earlier. It was now or never.

‘I’m thirsty!’ she announced and the way that her voice cracked on the words gave a conviction to her words. ‘It’s so hot—I really could do with a drink.’

‘If you look in front of you, there’s a cupboard—it’s a small bar, actually. There are some plastic bottles of mineral water in there.’

‘Oh, but—’

This wasn’t at all what she’d had in mind. What she’d wanted was…

‘You didn’t really think I was going to pull in to the services and let you out, did you?’ Infuriatingly, Rico seemed to have been able to read her mind. ‘It’s the water or nothing, sweetheart.’

‘I’m not your sweetheart!’ Felicity growled ungraciously, furious at having been caught out so easily. ‘And I have no intention of drinking anything you’ve provided.’

‘Then you’ll have to stay thirsty,’ Rico returned with cool callousness. ‘I told you I had no intention of harming you.’

‘And I’m supposed to believe that?’

Perversely, her pretence of being thirsty had now become a fact. The sun was beating down on the car and she was uncomfortably aware of the way that for most of the morning her tightly knotted nerves had prevented her from eating or drinking anything but the barest minimum. Just the thought of the cooled water was a temptation she found hard to resist.

‘You could have laced it with anything!’

His sigh was a masterpiece of resigned patience, threaded through with exasperation.

‘I give you my word—’

‘The word of a kidnapper? A brute—a thug?’

In the mirror she saw him roll his eyes, just for a second.

‘How about if I drank some of it myself?’

It was tempting. She really was very thirsty.

He must have seen the doubt in her face, how close she was to weakening, because suddenly he flicked the indicator and moved onto the hard shoulder, slowing the car briefly.

‘Give me the water.’

She could use the bottle as a weapon, Felicity told herself as she opened the bar. She could hit this Rico on the head with it—or shake it hard until the sparkling water was fizzing so wildly that it would explode in his face as soon as he opened it.

But even as the thoughts crossed her mind, she reconsidered them hastily. If she disabled Rico, however briefly, he was still that side of the glass partition and she on the other. The control for the central locking was on his side, and she very much doubted that, even if she opened it to its fullest, she could squeeze through the gap into the front of the car.

And she didn’t dare risk the possible repercussions if she angered him without incapacitating him. He might have given his word not to harm her, but that didn’t mean she was prepared to risk pushing him too far.

‘The water, Felicity.’

Rico had swivelled round in his seat so that he was facing her and a dark strand of warning threaded through his tone.

‘Did I say you could use my Christian name?’ Felicity demanded, knowing she was only being petty, using the complaint as something to hide behind, to disguise the frustration she felt at not being able to get at him in any other way.

‘Señorita Hamilton,’ Rico amended with an elaborate courtesy that only aggravated her already bad mood.

‘Oh, here, take your damn water!’