Claimed By Her Billionaire Protector

Stop being an idiot, she told herself robustly. OK, so the new owner of Mana had the kind of presence that attracted eyes and attention.

Definitely an alpha male—uncompromising and intolerant and intimidating.

Like her father. Just the sort of man she despised.

And feared...

The MC announced the next dance, and the Count turned to Mrs Nixon with a request that summoned a slight flush to her cheeks. ‘Dear man, that’s lovely of you, but I’m not dancing tonight. I managed to twist my ankle yesterday,’ she said.

Horrified, Elana realised that Niko had no polite way out of asking her to dance.

Sure enough, he turned to her, hard eyes veiled by lashes too long for any man. ‘May I have the pleasure?’

Say no.

But that would be ludicrous. After all, it was only one dance...

Her smile hiding, she fervently hoped, her abrupt and unwarranted reaction, she placed her fingers gingerly on his outstretched arm.

‘So you live above Anchor Bay,’ he said as the band struck up a tune. His tone indicated that he wasn’t particularly interested.

Matching it, she answered, ‘Yes.’

‘You must be able to see quite a bit of Mana Station from there.’

‘Yes.’

‘You’ll notice quite a few changes soon.’

Strangely, the purposeful note in his voice chilled her. She looked up, and for a couple of seconds their eyes locked. Blinking, she lowered her lashes against the ironic challenge in his cold blue gaze.

Suavely he asked, ‘You’re surprised?’

He saw too much. Elana struggled for something banal and conventional to say, but only managed, ‘No.’ When his brows drew together she added, ‘I’m pleased. It’s time someone gave Mana back some pride.’

He nodded. ‘Exactly what I intend to do. Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with farming talk. Let’s dance.’

A shiver ghosted the length of her spine as she stepped closer. For a foolish moment she felt she’d taken a forbidden step into an alternative world.

A dangerous world, she realised as they began to move together—a world where the rules no longer applied. Jumping heartbeats took her by surprise and her nostrils flared at the faint, exciting, potently male scent of him and the hard strength in the arms that imprisoned her.

Imprisoned her?

What a ridiculous thought!

Yet the heat of Niko Radcliffe’s hand at her waist was stirring a blatant response. Her dress seemed suddenly far too revealing, the violet silk slithering over acutely sensitised skin in a sensuous massage.

Of course he danced superbly; she was ready to bet that lean, splendidly physical body would do anything well, from dancing to making love.

‘Are you all right?’

His voice startled her. She had to swallow before she could speak and even then, she sounded hesitant. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ A swift defiance made her glance up to meet hooded, glinting eyes. ‘Why?’

‘You seem a little tense,’ he responded coolly, blue gaze unreadable. ‘I rarely bite, and when I do, it’s not to hurt.’

Heat zinged from her scalp to her toes, lighting fires all the way. That instinctive awareness strengthened into a sensation much more intense, so fiercely tantalising it shocked her.

Was he coming on to her?

No sooner had the thought flashed across her mind than she dismissed it. Of course he wasn’t flirting! It was impossible to imagine Count Niko Radcliffe doing anything so frivolous. So was he testing her?

If so, it was unkind. He was as out of place in Waipuna as she’d be in the rarefied social circles that were his natural habitat. According to Mrs Nixon, gorgeous film stars fell in love with him...

And probably the occasional princess. Gorgeous too, no doubt.

She couldn’t care less, she thought sturdily, trying to corral her rampaging senses.

‘So you’re quite safe,’ he drawled.

The note of mockery in his voice stiffened her spine. ‘I’m always glad to have that assurance,’ she retorted.

‘Even when you don’t necessarily believe it?’

Elana tried to come up with some innocuous answer, but before anything came to mind he continued curtly, ‘Whatever you might have heard about me, I don’t attack women.’

* * *

As soon as the words left his mouth Niko wondered why he’d said them. He spent more time fending off women than reassuring them of his integrity.

He had no illusions about the reason behind that sort of feminine interest. Money and power talked, and for a certain type of woman it was enough to seduce. Yet for some reason the note in Elana Grange’s voice had struck a nerve.

Actually, she struck a nerve.

When they’d been introduced he’d noticed her fingers, long and slender and bare of rings, and for a moment he’d wondered what they’d feel like on his skin. And as she’d stepped into his arms, his whole body had tightened in swift, primitive response.

However, elegant though she appeared, he suspected Elana Grange wasn’t sophisticated enough for the sort of relationships he chose. His affairs—nowhere near as many as suggested in gossip columns—had always been between two people who both liked and wanted each other, whose minds meshed. He valued intelligence as much as he did sex appeal.

And because he drew the line at breaking hearts, his lovers had always understood that he wasn’t offering marriage.

Whatever sort of mind Elana Grange had, she looked like a dream—and danced like one too, her grace fulfilling the promise of her sinuous body.

Elana broke the silence between them. ‘Mr Radcliffe, there have been rumours that you plan to develop Mana Station. Is that true?’

‘What do you mean by develop?’

Wishing she’d stayed silent, she told him. ‘Cut it into blocks, sell them off and make a gated community of it—’

‘No,’ he interrupted curtly. ‘I’m planning to bring it back into the vital, productive station it once must have been.’