Rumours: The Ruthless Ravensdales: Ravensdale's Defiant Captive (The Ravensdale Scandals) / Awakening the Ravensdale Heiress (The Ravensdale Scandals) / Engaged to Her Ravensdale Enemy (The Ravensdale

Julius strode about thirty or so paces before he swung back to look at her but she had already turned back to face the lake. He watched as she hurled a rock as far as she could. It landed in the middle of the water and sank with a loud plop, but not before it created tsunami-like ripples over the surface.

CHAPTER THREE (#u2749712f-7352-5476-818a-34ed57cbdfd4)

HOLLY WAITED UNTIL Julius was out of sight before she left the lakeside. What right did he have to tell her how to dress? No man was going to tell her what she could and couldn’t do. If she wanted to wear jeans, she would wear them. She’d wear high-cut denim shorts and trashy high heels to his stuck-up dinner table if she wanted to. He couldn’t force her to dress up like one of his posh girlfriends. He might deny having a current lady friend but no man with his sort of looks went long between hook-ups.

He had so been going to kiss her. She had been waiting for him to do it. Silently egging him on. Waiting for him to break. What a triumph it was going to be when he finally did. She would get the biggest kick out of seeing him topple from his high horse. He had no right to lecture her as if she were ten years old. She would show him just how grown up she was. He wasn’t dealing with a wilful child. He was dealing with a woman who knew how to make a man weaken at the knees. She would do him before he could do her. Although, the thought of having him do her was strangely appealing. He wasn’t her type, with his control freak ways, but he was so darn attractive it almost hurt her eyeballs to look at him.

What was it about him that seemed vaguely familiar? His surname kept ringing a faint bell of recognition in her head. Where had she heard the name Ravensdale before?

And then it finally dawned on her.

He was the son—one of the twin sons—of the famous Shakespearean actors Richard Ravensdale and Elisabetta Albertini. They were London theatre royalty; Holly had seen articles about them in gossip magazines. Not that she ever had the money to buy such magazines but occasionally one of the shelters she had stayed in had them lying about.

Julius’s parents had married thirty-four years ago after an affair during a London season of Much Ado About Nothing and celebrated their first wedding anniversary with the birth of identical twin boys. Seven turbulent years later, they had had a very public and acrimonious divorce. Then, three years later, they’d reunited in a whirlwind of publicity, remarried in a big celebrity-attended wedding service, and exactly nine months later Elisabetta had given birth to a daughter called Miranda.

Holly wondered if Julius had chosen to work and live in Argentina as a way of putting some distance between himself and his famous parents. The attention they attracted would be difficult to deal with, especially since what she had read indicated neither he nor his siblings had any aspirations to be on the stage. He hadn’t once mentioned his parents’ fame, although he’d had plenty of opportunity to do so.

Was that why he had initially been so reluctant to have her here? Would her presence draw press attention his way he would rather avoid? If the press got a whiff of her chequered background it might cause all sorts of speculation. Holly could imagine the headlines: Celebrities’ Son Living with Trailer Trash with Criminal Record. How would that go down with Julius’s sense of propriety?

Holly pursed her lips as she thought about her next move. If she called the press it would draw too much attention to herself just now. She didn’t want her creep-aholic stepfather to know where she currently was, although, given the friends in high places he had, she wouldn’t put it past him to know already or to make it his business to find out.

Franco Morales had influence that had already stretched further and wider than she had planned and prepared for. No sooner would she get herself back on her feet in a new job and a new place than something would go wrong. Her last employer had accused her of stealing from the till. Holly might have a rebellious streak that got her into trouble now and again but she was no thief. But the money had been found in her purse and she’d had no way of explaining how it had got there. Even the shop’s security cameras had ‘mysteriously’ been switched off at the alleged time of the theft.

Holly had been evicted from her last three flats due to property damage that had been wrongfully levelled at her. But she knew her stepfather had staged it, along with the shop theft. He had set her up by sending in a mole to do his dirty work. That was why she had keyed his brand-new sports car and sprayed that message in weed killer on his perfectly manicured front lawn right where his neighbours would see it: wife beater.

Holly believed her mother would never have killed herself if it hadn’t been for the long years of physical, emotional and financial abuse dished out to her by a man who had insisted on total obedience. Slavish obedience. Demeaning obedience that had left her mother a shadow of her former self. Franco had kept Holly and her mother oscillating between grinding poverty and occasional, large cash hand-outs that he’d never explained where they were sourced from. It was feast or famine. One minute the fridge was full of food. The next it was empty. Or sold. Furniture and appliances would be bought and then they would be sold to solve a ‘cash-flow problem’. Things Holly had saved up for and bought with her meagre and hard-earned pocket money would be tossed out in the garbage or disappear without any explanation.

Holly vowed she would never break under Franco’s tyranny. Even as a young child she had suffered his slaps and back-handers and put-downs without shedding a tear. Not even a whimper had escaped her lips. Not even her ‘time-outs’ on the balcony had made her give in. Even if her mother hadn’t been abused on the other side, Holly would have locked off her feelings; cemented them deep inside. Hardened herself so she could withstand the abuse without giving him the satisfaction of breaking her spirit.

But unfortunately her mother had not been as strong, or maybe it had just become too hard for her to try to protect Holly as well as herself. Holly had never doubted her mother’s love for her. Her mother had done everything she could to protect Holly from her stepfather but eventually it had become too much for her. She had become drug-and alcohol-dependent as a way to anaesthetise herself against the prison of her marriage to a beast of a man who had exploited her from the moment he’d met her.

Even though she had only been four at the time, Holly remembered the way Franco Morales had charmed her poor, grieving mother a few months after Holly’s father had been killed in a work-place accident. He had taken control of her mother as soon as he’d married her.

At first he had been supportive, taking care of everything so she no longer had to worry about keeping a roof over their heads. He’d even been kind to Holly, buying her toys and sweets. But then things had started to change. He’d begun subjecting her mother to physical and verbal punishment. It had started with the occasional blow-out at first. One-off losses of temper that he would profusely apologise for and then everything would return to normal. Then a week or two would pass and it would happen again. Then it was every week. Then it was every day—twice a day, even.

And then he’d started in on Holly. Insisting she be brought up according to his rules. His regulations. The slaps had begun for supposed disobedience. The back-handers for insolence or often for no reason at all. Holly had got so stressed and wound up by the anticipation of his abuse she would often trigger it so it was out of the way for that day.

Although he’d no longer smacked her once she got a little older, his verbal sprays had worsened as she’d got to her teens. He’d called her filthy names, taunting her with how unattractive she was, how unintelligent she was, how no one would ever want her. All of which had been confirmed when her mother had died. Holly hadn’t known what to do, where to go, how to manage her life. During that awful, anchorless time she had done things she wished she hadn’t and not done things she wished she had. She had mixed with the wrong people for the right reasons and mixed with the right people for the wrong reasons.

But things were going to be different now.

Holly was determined to get her life heading in the right direction. Once this community service was over, she was going to go to England, as far away as possible from her stepfather, back to the country of her mother’s birth.

Then, and only then, would she be free.

* * *

Holly walked back towards the villa via the gardens. There were hectares of them, both formal and informal. There was even a swimming pool set on a sun-drenched terrace that overlooked the fields where some glossy-backed horses were grazing. The summer sun was fiercer now than earlier. The clouds had shifted and the bright light sparkled off the swimming pool like thousands of brilliant diamonds scattered over the surface. She bent down and trailed her fingers in the water to test the temperature. It was deliciously, temptingly cool. Not that she was much of a swimmer, but the thought of cooling off was irresistible.

She glanced at the villa to see if anyone was watching. Not that she cared. If she wanted to have a dip in her underwear who was going to stop her? She kicked off her sandals and shimmied out of her jeans, dropping them in a heap by the pool. She hauled her cotton sweater and the vest top she was wearing under it over her head and sent it in the same direction as her jeans.

Holly stood for a moment as the sun’s rays soaked into her all but naked flesh. She pushed all her thoughts about her bleak childhood out of her head. They were like toxic poison if she allowed them to stay with her too long. Instead, she pretended she was on holiday at an exclusive resort where she had total freedom to do what she wanted.

And then, taking a deep breath, she slipped into the water and let it swallow her into its refreshingly cool and cleansing embrace.

* * *

Julius heard a splash and pushed his chair back from the computer to check who was using the pool. He should’ve guessed and he definitely shouldn’t have looked. Holly was swimming, wearing nothing but what looked like a transparent bikini. Or was it a bikini or just her bra and knickers? He knew he should get away from the window. He even heard the left side of his brain issue the order. But the right side wilfully drank in the sight of her. Lustfully feasted on the vision of her playing like a water sprite. Her lithe limbs and pert breasts with their pink-tipped nipples showing through the thin cotton of her bra tantalised his senses and drove his blood at breakneck speed to his groin. Her wet hair was slicked back and looked as dark as the pelt of a seal. She did a duck dive, and he caught a delicious glimpse of her neat bottom, long legs and thoroughbred-slim ankles. She kicked herself to the bottom of the pool before resurfacing like a dolphin at play. He heard the sound of her tinkling laughter just as she went back down for another dive.

When she came up she had her back to him. He saw the neat play of the muscles of her back and shoulders as she lifted her hair off her neck, using its length to tie it in a makeshift knot on top of her head. She went back under the surface with a splash of her legs and ballerina-like feet.

The agility of her firm young body drove his stunned senses into overdrive. She could have been a model showcasing a new line of swimwear. She was athletically slim but with just the right amount of curves to make his blood pound with heightened awareness.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He was mesmerised by the vision of her. The way she moved as if she had no care for whoever might be watching. The way she played like a fun-loving child and yet her body was all sensual woman.

When she came up the next time she turned her body so she was facing his window. As if she had some internal tracking device, her gaze honed in on his office window. She raised one of her brows before her mouth slanted in a knowing smile as she gave him a cheeky little fingertip wave.

Julius let out a stiff curse and turned away. He raked a hand through his hair, hating himself for the way his body reacted to her of its own volition. He had no control over it.

He saw. He ached. He throbbed. He lusted.

It shocked him how easily she reduced him to the level of an animal looking for a chance to mate. Surely he had more taste than to have his tongue hanging out for an outrageous tease? How was he going to survive a month of this? With her flaunting herself at every available opportunity? What was she doing, playing in the pool? This wasn’t a holiday resort, for God’s sake. She was here to work.

And, God damn it, he would make sure she did.

* * *

Holly heard the tread of firm footsteps coming along the flagstones as she sat on the top step of the pool idly kicking her feet just under the water. She stopped kicking and looked over her shoulder to see Julius striding towards her with a brooding expression on his face.

‘Having fun, are we?’ he said.

‘Sure.’ She gave him a breezy smile. ‘Why don’t you join me? You look like you could do with a little cooling off.’

Something dark and glittering flashed in his navy-blue gaze as it collided with hers. ‘You’re not here on holiday.’ His tone was terse. Curt.

Holly felt a little thrill course through her body at the way he was trying not to look at her wet breasts. Her well-worn cheap bra was practically as sheer as cling film. His jaw had a tight clench to it as if his teeth were being ground together like chalk. She could see the tiny in-out movement of a muscle near the side of his flattened mouth. Go on, she silently dared him. Have a good old look. She arched back against the pool steps so that her breasts were above the water line. She watched as his eyes dipped to her curves, where the water was lapping her erect nipples, before he dragged his gaze back to hers, his mouth a flat line of disapproval.

‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t be allowed to make use of what’s on offer,’ she said with a sultry smile.

‘Get out,’ he said with a jerk of his head.

Holly arched one brow at him. ‘I would’ve thought those posh celebrity parents of yours would’ve taught you better manners than that. Say the magic word.’

He said a word but it had nothing to do with magic. It was a colourful swear word with distinctly sexual connotations that made the atmosphere between them even more electric.

Holly felt an unexpected frisson deep in her core, a flicker of arousal that licked along her flesh like the tail of a soft leather whip. Julius’s nostrils were wide, flaring like a stallion about to rear up to take charge of its selected mate. She had never seen a man look so magnificently stirred by her. The sense of power it gave her was tempered only by the fact he stirred her in equal measure. He aroused her. He turned her on to the point where she could feel her body contracting with want. It was a new experience for her. She was usually the object of desire while feeling nothing herself. But this was different. She felt urges and cravings that were overpowering to say the least.

‘You either get out on your own or I’ll get you out,’ he said through clenched teeth.