The Hostage Bride

But even as the urgent question left her lips the haze of fear and confusion that had clouded her thoughts in the moments of wakening was slowly receding. Her eyes were starting to focus properly, her mind to take in more detailed impressions of her surroundings.

She was still in a car, it was true, still on the back seat of some large, luxurious vehicle. But, now that she looked more closely, she became aware of some very distinct differences between this car and the Rolls Royce in which she had originally fallen asleep.

Where the soft leather of the seat had once been a light fawn, now it was uncompromisingly black. There was no dividing glass panel between her and the seat where the driver—where Rico would have sat. And as she levered herself fully upright at last she saw not the silvery grey metalwork of the original Rolls but the sleek black lines of a very different car altogether.

‘This isn’t your car!’

‘Correction,’ Rico returned imperturbably. ‘This is very definitely my car—my personal property. The Rolls was not. It was the one that Venables hired for you, but it was easy enough to acquire it for my own use. Your original driver was only too pleased to be given the day off, especially when he earned a fat bonus at the same time.’

I just bet he was, Felicity thought, struggling against a swamping wave of misery. The memory of her own foolishness in telling him that his kidnapping hadn’t been the most efficient possible came back to haunt her in horrifying detail. How could she have been so reckless—so crazily stupid? She had even laughed at him, for heaven’s sake!

‘You…’

The black tide of horror made her voice shake and she shrank back against the far door of the car, getting as far away from him as was possible.

‘How—how did you get me from the Rolls into this…?’

The faint smile grew, curving into a wicked, malign grin.

‘Isn’t that obvious, gatita? I carried you.’

Her throat closed up at the thought, her stomach heaving nauseously. The image that her mind threw up of herself in his arms, her body limp and totally at his mercy, her eyes closed, all defences down, made her shudder in appalled distress.

‘How dare you?’

To her relief anger came to her aid, the hot, thick force of it driving her fear before it.

‘How dare you even touch me!’ Her voice rose high and tight and her grey eyes flashed fire in defiance. ‘You had no right! No right at all! If you ever do that again, I’ll kill you!’

To her fury, her reaction only seemed to amuse him, his smile incensing her further.

‘So the kitten has claws,’ he murmured with silky mockery. ‘I can see I shall have to be prepared to defend myself.’

If her rage had been merely an annoying fly, easily flicked away and dismissed, he couldn’t have made his contempt more obvious. The disdain with which he shrugged off her impotent threat had her clenching her hands tight against her thighs, struggling with the impulse to use them on that arrogantly handsome face.

‘Oh, go to hell!’ she spat furiously. ‘Just leave me alone!’

‘Willingly,’ he responded smoothly. ‘But I can’t help thinking that you would be much more comfortable inside. You can’t stay in this car all night. For one thing, I think the weather is about to change.’

A quick glance at the sky confirmed the truth of his words. The brilliant sun of earlier in the day had been eclipsed by gathering clouds, which were growing thicker and darker by the minute. But it was worse than that. Some of the intensity of the sun had also faded, leaving her in no doubt that the evening was drawing in. Just how long had she been unconscious while they were on the road? How far could they possibly have travelled in that time—and to where?

‘And I’m sure you must be getting hungry. If you just come into the house—’

‘No.’

Felicity shook her head firmly, her chin setting stubbornly.

‘I’m not going anywhere with you. You can’t make me.’

His sigh was a blend of exasperation and resignation.

‘Felicity, querida, you cannot stay out here.’

‘I can do whatever I want! And it’s Miss Hamilton to you!’

Damn him, he was laughing at her again, the soft sound of his amusement adding fuel to the fire of indignation blazing inside her.

‘Don’t be foolish, gatita. You must be stiff and uncomfortable, and in need of something to eat and drink. Come with me…’

The appalling thing was that she was tempted. That the strong, tanned hand he held out to her actually looked as if it was proffered in a gesture of friendship, of assistance. But she’d been caught that way once before and she didn’t intend to let it happen all over again.

‘Señorita.’ The edge to his voice revealed how much she was testing his patience. ‘You are not making this easy on either of us. If you would just come inside then we could handle this situation in a much more civilised manner.’

‘I don’t want to make anything easy for you! And, quite frankly, “civilised” in the last word I could ever use to describe you! Nothing on earth could ever induce me to set foot inside that house—’

‘Not even if I promise to let you phone your family?’ Rico inserted smoothly, interrupting the flow of her tirade.

‘Phone?’

Abruptly all the fight left her with the speed of the air being expelled from a punctured balloon, leaving her limp and weak.

‘You’d let me do that?’

The arrogant dark head moved in a swift nod of acquiescence.

‘But only if you come inside.’

His tone was huskily seductive, pure enticement in a silky murmur. It was the voice that the serpent must have used to tempt Eve in the Garden of Eden and Felicity found herself weakening dangerously.

The longing to speak to her parents, to hear a friendly voice in the middle of this nightmare was overwhelming. She had never felt so alone, so lost and anxious—not even on the day that she had discovered precisely how much of a mess her father had made of his life, the dangers he had created for his family.

‘The first thing you can do as soon as you are inside is ring your parents, reassure them that you are well. I’m sure they would be glad to hear from you.’

They would be going out of their minds with worry. Hot tears rushed into Felicity’s eyes at just the thought.

‘You wouldn’t deceive me about this?’

The sheen of moisture in those dove-grey eyes was Rico’s undoing. If there was one thing he had never been able to cope with, it was a woman in tears. Maria had wept all over him when she had found out about Edward Venables’ forthcoming marriage and that was why he was here, now, seeing this woman’s tears threaten and knowing that he was the cause of it.

‘Trust me on this,’ he said huskily.

Once more that big, strong hand was held out to her, and this time, after a moment’s hesitation, she tentatively put her own into it. The way that her fingers disappeared when he folded his around them was almost shocking; the paler skin swallowed up by the tanned power of his grasp.

‘Come, belleza,’ he encouraged. ‘Come with me.’

And slowly, cautiously, she let herself be drawn with him, sliding over the soft leather of the seat. She was almost out of the car when a new idea came to her, flashing into her mind with a force like lightning so that for a second she paused, one foot just reaching out to the ground, wondering if she could possibly risk it.

She had no idea at all where she was. The car was parked at the top of some wide, winding drive, thickly lined with trees. Just a few yards away stood a large, elegant house, the heavy wooden door already open onto a wide, spacious hall. Clearly, Rico had unlocked the door before he had come back to the car to waken her.