Книга - Devil Lover

Devil Lover
Carole Mortimer


Carole Mortimer is one of Mills & Boon’s best loved Modern Romance authors. With nearly 200 books published and a career spanning 35 years, Mills & Boon are thrilled to present her complete works available to download for the very first time! Rediscover old favourites - and find new ones! - in this fabulous collection…A marriage for revenge…Powerful Greek magnate Andreas Vatis has every reason to hate Regan. Not only is his pride severely wounded, but because of her father’s actions, he lost something much more valuable. Before he passed away, Regan’s father seduced Andreas’s wife and ran off with her—and Andreas needs to continue the Vatis empire…Now Andreas is determined to take his revenge from Regan—with the ruthless demand that she replace what her father deprived him of—a wife and an heir!












Devil Lover

Carole Mortimer







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Table of Contents


Cover (#u18a81c15-3832-5b1a-8809-3ba0e1bff705)

Title Page (#u084ffee5-1815-5d4e-bee6-b2baa35a2d41)

CHAPTER ONE (#uc5e101ec-a982-501c-a29b-34899ce04af7)

CHAPTER TWO (#ue54d5540-f931-53fd-ac21-e9b10fd9acee)

CHAPTER THREE (#ud433fd31-aa16-5a88-a61f-10572db34902)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_9a79a04f-6d01-5abd-96e6-8a119fa74731)


ONCE again Regan checked the address written on the piece of paper in her hand, sure that the building in front of her couldn't possibly be the place. The girl at the agency must have made a mistake, this quiet building set in the exclusive part of London couldn't possibly be the right place for her interview to be taking place. And yet the address appeared to be right.

There was a man sitting at a desk just inside the thickly carpeted reception area, probably put there to keep out undesirables. The logical thing to do would be to see if she fitted into that category.

The old man listened politely while she made her query. ‘I'm not sure,’ she said nervously, ‘but I think a Mr Western is expecting me for an interview this afternoon. Apartment 4.’

‘And your name?’

‘Miss Thomas,’ she supplied with a smile. At least he hadn't thrown her straight out. ‘Safe Employment sent me.’

He smiled back at her, a man of obvious retirement age who probably found this job suited his advanced years. He wouldn't have too much to do, the building only consisted of four luxury apartments. Regan admired him for continuing to work when he no longer needed to; too many people had no choice but to remain at home with the high amount of unemployed, and usually gave up the will to live not long after. This man, although probably in his early seventies, gave the impression of a zest for life, a youthful twinkle in the faded blue eyes.

‘Mr Western is expecting you, Miss Thomas,’ he put her mind at rest about it being the right location. Thank God it was the right place, it was already five to three and the appointment was for three o'clock! ‘Would you like me to take you up,’ he offered, ‘or can you find your own way?’

‘I'll find my own way,’ she thanked him, thinking of the wear on his legs—as he was probably doing.

She wasn't sure it was worth her attending the interview now that she had seen the wealthy background of her prospective employer; she felt sure he would require the very best qualifications from the person chosen to be the companion of his daughter. She would be in the nature of a governess really, but she didn't think a charge of nearly sixteen years of age would consider a girl of twenty old enough to fit that description. The girl probably considered herself old enough not to need a companion or governess. Not that Regan could blame her, but apparently the father was often away on business and didn't consider his elderly relatives capable of caring for his daughter. The mother was dead.

But now that Regan had seen the quiet opulence that surrounded her charge she didn't think she stood a chance of being employed by the father. She had done a college course in child care but had no actual experience of working with children other than the necessary field work during the college course. Mr Western appeared to be wealthy enough to employ only the best for his daughter, and with no experience to back her up Regan could hardly be called that.

The door to Apartment 4 was opened by a maid in a smart black and white uniform, the simple white-painted door in no way hinting at the elegance and wealth evident in every article in the huge room Regan was ushered into. Her feet sank into the thickly carpeted floor in a particularly attractive honey shade, the deep brown leather suite placed strategically about the room, the sofa large enough to seat at least five people. It was a beautiful room, beautifully furnished, the long coffee table a genuine antique. But it was a room that lacked something, lacked the vital something she believed necessary to make it a home. But probably Mr Western was away so often he didn't have the time to make it a home. Regan's heart went out to the daughter of the house, her emotions already becoming involved.

She sat gingerly on the edge of one of the sumptuous armchairs while the maid disappeared into one of the other rooms, probably an office or study, to tell Mr Western of her arrival. She looked down nervously at the smart green suit and crisp white blouse she wore, seeing a certain schoolmarmishness about her clothing, but knowing they gave her a coolly assured appearance, for all of her youth. She had no doubt her usual attire would be frowned on, the tight denims and jumpers that emphasised every curve of her body.

‘Miss Thomas?’

She stood up slowly, straightening her skirt as she did so. The male voice was pitched low and attractive, and a hasty glance at the newcomer showed him to be a tall man in his early thirties, short blond hair brushed back off his brow, blue eyes twinkling in friendly examination, the mouth curved into an attractive smile. Regan felt some of the tension leave her as she returned his smile.

She accepted his proffered hand. ‘I'm Regan Thomas, yes,’ she acknowledged huskily.

‘Clive Western,’ he gave her hand a hearty shake. ‘Please, sit down. I've asked Margaret to provide us with some tea. I'm sure you could do with some,’ he smiled understandingly.

‘That will be lovely.’ At least the job didn't appear to have already been taken by what she felt sure must be numerous applicants. Unless the tea was supposed to lessen the disappointment when she was told the post had been filled.

She looked up once again, only to find Clive Western's admiring glance on her. She knew her auburn hair that when loose waved down to her shoulder blades but at the moment styled into a smooth bun at the nape, uptilted blue eyes surrounded by thick dark lashes, tiptilted nose, and wide smiling mouth, made up an attractive if not beautiful young girl when complemented by her slim curvaceous figure, but she wasn't sure she welcomed her possible future employer noticing such things. But maybe he hadn't, maybe she was being over-sensitive about this her first interview. What did it matter if she didn't get the job, just this interview would be some experience to take on to her next one.

‘The girl at the agency tells me this will be your first job.’ Clive Western sat down opposite her, crossing one well-clad foot over the other.

Regan's eyes brightened. So the job hadn't been taken. Maybe she could still get on a short list or something. ‘Yes,’ she answered shyly. ‘I only left college a couple of weeks ago.’

He nodded. ‘So the agency explained. They also said you had no objections to moving out of London.’

‘None at all.’ She was beginning to feel a little more confident. ‘In fact, until a couple of years ago I lived in Norfolk—and that is definitely out of London,’ she added mischievously.

‘Indeed,’ he nodded. ‘But I'm afraid it would be the other way—Cornwall in fact.’

‘It wouldn't matter. The aunt and uncle I lived with moved up to Scotland a few months after I came here. One of my cousins got a job up there and as my uncle was retired the whole family decided to go.’

‘But not you?’

She was aware that she was being led, but she was also aware that this man had a right to know her background. After all, she could be going to become his daughter's constant companion. ‘I'd already been accepted for a college course here.’

‘And you haven't considered joining them now.’ He indicated she should pour the tea the maid had just brought in, which she did, leaving him to add his own sweetening if he wanted it. He didn't.

‘I didn't really see the point,’ she explained, ‘not as my job usually involves living in.’

‘And time off?’

‘Holidays I spend with them, but weekends I usually spend with the friends I've made here.’

‘And will you be leaving anyone special behind?’

‘A boy-friend, you mean?’ She watched him nod. ‘No one who really counts.’ She hoped Donny would forgive her for that. She wasn't seriously interested in him, although he didn't treat their friendship with the same casualness. He was one of the reasons she didn't mind leaving London, mere words didn't seem to be enough to convince him of her disinterest in making things more serious between them.

‘Good, good,’ he nodded again, studying the tip of one highly polished shoe. His ease didn't fool Regan for one minute; there was an astute brain behind his polite manner, a brain that missed little. ‘And what do you know of Helena?’

‘The little girl?’

Clive Western smiled. ‘I don't somehow think she would like being called that.’

‘I'm sure she wouldn't,’ Regan laughed, her cheeks flushed in her embarrassment. ‘My lecturers wouldn't be very pleased with me if they'd heard that slip-up. I meant to say young lady.’

‘I'm sure you did,’ his mouth quirked with humour. ‘And yes, Helena is the young lady. Although I wouldn't really call her that either,’ he added thoughtfully.

‘I know very little about her, except her age and that her mother is dead.’

‘Gina died just over ten years ago.’

‘I'm sorry,’ Regan said softly.

‘It was rough on Helena,’ he agreed. ‘She was only five when her mother walked out on her.’

‘Walked out …? I'm sorry, I thought you said——’

‘Oh, I did. Please, help yourself,’ he indicated the plate of delicious-looking cream cakes on the trolley. ‘You don't look as if you have to watch what you eat.’

‘No, I don't. But I—I won't, if you don't mind.’ She always ended up with more cream over her than inside her, and she didn't want to make a fool of herself when the interview seemed to be going so well. ‘I've just eaten lunch,’ she excused herself, the silent rumblings of her tummy telling her that it had been over three hours ago. And the cakes did look delicious!

Clive Western shrugged. ‘To get back to Gina.’ He frowned. ‘She'd already gone back to America, alone, before the accident happened.’

‘I see.’

‘The marriage was—well, it wasn't a success. I'm telling you this because you may find Helena won't take kindly to a female being introduced into her world, not a female she has to take notice of anyway. She's been surrounded by just men for so long now—staff, tutors, her father—that I'm afraid she's rather an independent young girl. She's attractive enough, she just needs a push in the right direction to make her into a beautiful young woman.’

‘She resents the idea of a companion,’ Regan said with a sigh. This job was certainly turning out to have a lot of the pitfalls that had been described to her during her recent course.

‘She resents any idea of change,’ Clive Western corrected. ‘But things can't go on as they have been. She's running wild down there in Cornwall. But the business is very time-consuming, requiring a lot of time travelling to our different branches all over the world. The personal appearance has never done any harm, and it certainly keeps the employees on their toes. They never know when the boss is going to walk in.’

‘And—er—what is the business?’ asked Regan.

‘Shipping, hotels, holidays.’

Wow! No wonder he looked as if he were made of money. ‘So Helena spends a lot of her time on her own?’

He nodded. ‘Except for the staff down there.’

‘She's never had a companion before?’

‘Years ago. Then she went to boarding school for a time. A bad bout of ‘flu turning to pneumonia put a stop to that just over a year ago. Since then she's been tutored at home. She's supposed to be delicate,’ he added dryly.

Regan frowned. ‘But she has a tutor living down there with her?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I really don't see … When would I get to do my job?’ She looked and sounded puzzled.

‘Helena only studies until three in the afternoon, after that her time is her own. Her tutor is a male, so that would be the time you took over.’

‘But I—— What would I do all day until she'd finished her school work?’

‘Walk, sunbathe, anything that you like doing.’

She shook her head. ‘I really don't think you need someone like me. Isn't there a relative or friend who could go and stay with her until she's well enough to return to school, someone who could be a friend to her, share things with her? If I accepted this job I wouldn't be earning my money.’ She knew the salary already, and it was a very good one. All the more reason not to accept it under false pretences.

‘Oh, but you would,’ he assured her. ‘It would merely be a reversal of the day. Up until three o'clock your time would be your own, after that, until Helena goes to bed about ten, you would be with her. Weekends you would be expected to be with her all day.’

‘I see.’ That changed things. The way he put it, it sounded a reasonable arrangement. Just a reversal of the day, as he said.

‘So, would you be willing to take the job?’

‘Yes, I—I think so.’ It all seemed to be happening so fast. ‘But don't you have other applicants to see first?’ What was she trying to do, see herself out of what looked like being a very interesting job!

‘There are no other applicants. The job wasn't advertised, and the agency doesn't have anyone else to send. Now, I've told you all the drawbacks, are you still interested in the job?’

‘Oh yes!’ Her eyes glowed brightly blue.

‘Good,’ he grinned. ‘Now I'll tell you some of the good things about it. The salary you already know, you would have more or less a free hand with Helena. The staff down there would treat you more or less as the mistress of the house, and once you've got over Helena's initial antagonism I think you'll find she can be quite a loyal friend. Now what's your answer?’

‘I think,’ she told him shyly, ‘that I would like the job.’

‘Then that's settled,’ he said with satisfaction, and obvious relief. He held out the plate of sticky confectionery she had earlier refused. ‘Have a cake to celebrate. I'd offer you something stronger, but then I'd have to join you, and as I still have a certain amount of work to do today … Go on, have one,’ he encouraged as she still hesitated. ‘I'm going to have one,’ he added enticingly.

Regan laughingly took a chocolate eclair, her favourite. ‘I bet you and Helena are great friends,’ she smiled. ‘You seem to have a way with females.’

He shook his head. ‘I'm afraid Helena is off me at the moment.’

‘She's at an awkward age. I'm sure she'll soon get over whatever it is you've done to upset her.’

‘Not that little lady. Helena isn't one to forget anything, but then neither is her father.’

Regan finished her cream cake, wiping her chocolate-covered fingers on the napkin. Ordinarily she would have licked them clean, but she couldn't do that in front of this man. It just wasn't fair how he managed to eat his without even seeming to get in the least sticky. And he didn't look in the least like a man who would bear a grudge. But then what did she really know about him? Nothing, except the polite friendly side of his character he had shown during this interview.

‘When could you start work?’ he asked now.

She shrugged. ‘Whenever you want me to. I've been taking a holiday since college finished, but that's over now. I can start at any time.’

‘Let's see, today is Thursday. I have to drive down on Sunday to pick up a few things. Could you be ready to go by then?’

It would take a bit of organising, but she would do it somehow. ‘That would be fine,’ she nodded.

‘Nine o'clock suit you?’

Goodness, on a Sunday too! ‘Any time that suits you,’ she assured him. Her first interview and she had got the job! It was fantastic.

‘Then nine o'clock it is. It's quite a drive, pretty hazardous towards the end. The house is quite remote, very minor roads the last ten miles or so. I usually stay to lunch and leave straight after.’

‘That can't give you much time with Helena.’

‘Enough,’ he grimaced. ‘A little of Helena goes a long way. Sorry,’ he grinned, ‘I mustn't put you off before you start!’

It wasn't putting her off at all. His aversion to spending time with his daughter reminded Regan of her own father's absences during her own childhood, and her sympathies all lay with Helena. Her father had been a busy man too, travelling the world for his work and pleasure, and in the ten years of her life before he was killed she had probably seen him for a year of that time. Aunt Edith and Uncle Fred had brought her up as their own daughter, and although her father had often mocked them for their staidness, they had had no hesitation in adopting her when her father had died.

‘I haven't put you off, have I?’ Clive Western must have noticed the shadows in her eyes.

‘Not at all,’ she answered coolly. ‘I'm looking forward to meeting Helena.’

‘That's fine, then.’ He stood up in conclusion of the interview. ‘I'm sorry to rush you, but I have another appointment at four o'clock.’ He gave her a warm smile.

Regan stood up too, her handbag clutched primly in front of her. She still couldn't believe she had got this job! ‘Are you sure I'll be suitable?’ she asked anxiously. ‘My qualifications——’

‘Already discussed with the agency. I'll let them know you've accepted the job.’

‘I'm sure you're too busy——’

‘They'll want their fee, Miss Thomas,’ he interrupted dryly. ‘Which means I have to contact them anyway.’

‘Oh—oh yes,’ she blushed at her stupidity.

‘Sunday, then?’

‘Yes,’ she confirmed.

She was still smiling when she walked past the man in the reception area, receiving a smile back. She called in and did some shopping before going back to the flat she shared with Lindy. She was in the kitchen when she heard her friend's key in the lock an hour later.

Lindy burst into the room. ‘Did you get it?’ She pulled out the grill plate to reveal the steaks cooking there. ‘You got it,’ she laughed.

‘I did.’ Regan opened the fridge door to reveal a bottle of wine she had also purchased. ‘To celebrate.’

‘Mm!’ Lindy licked her lips. ‘Can we start on that now?’

‘Wait until the steaks are ready.’

Lindy sat down on one of the two bar stools they possessed. ‘What was Mr Western like?’ she asked eagerly.

‘Very good-looking. Very charming too.’

‘Any chance of you and him——’

‘Certainly not,’ Regan instantly denied, although the warmth in Clive Western's eyes had occasionally been a little too warm for comfort. A little encouragement from her, and who knows? Thank heavens he travelled a lot. It wouldn't do to become romantically involved with her employer.

Lindy shrugged. ‘Just curious. What's the little girl like?’

‘She's a young lady,’ Regan corrected firmly. ‘I'm sure you didn't like being called a little girl at sixteen. And I didn't get to meet her, she's at their house in Cornwall. Apparently she lives there most of the time.’

‘Does that mean——’

‘It means,’ Regan checked the steaks once more, turning them over for the last time, ‘I shall be going to Cornwall to live, and that Christopher will be able to move in here on Sunday afternoon.’

Lindy blushed. ‘Don't be like that, Regan! Christopher will be using your bedroom, not sharing mine. We only want to see how we get on living together. It isn't going to be easy to work a marriage around my shift work at the hospital.’

Lindy was training to be a nurse, and her hours were a little strange, including several months of night work each year. She and Christopher McGrath had been dating for over a year now, and while they were just going out together Lindy's work didn't interfere too much, but it could be a different matter when taken in conjunction with the commitment of marriage. And so the young couple had decided to try living together for a while, with separate sleeping arrangements, to see how things worked out between them.

Regan kept an open mind about the idea, not sure she would want to do that herself. But then she had never been put to that sort of test, never caring enough for any of her boy-friends to want any more than a casual friendship with them. But she knew Lindy and Christopher genuinely cared for each other, and perhaps it was better to find any loopholes in the idea of marriage between them before they actually went ahead and did it.

Lindy frowned. ‘Sunday, you said? Is that when you start the job?’

Regan nodded. ‘Mr Western is driving down to see his daughter and offered to take me with him. It will save me having to get a train.’

‘Bit short notice, though, isn't it?’

Regan served their meal, sitting beside her friend at the breakfast bar. The two of them had shared a flat ever since they had met in a youth hostel two years ago, and the arrangement had worked out very well, although after growing up with two male cousins Regan had found it strange to be suddenly living with a girl.

She shrugged now. ‘I've had a couple of weeks break, and it isn't as if I can't start any time. Besides, now I know I have the job I just want to get down to it.’

‘You're taking a risk not actually meeting this girl. She could turn out to be a little horror.’

‘Mr Western more or less told me she is,’ Regan said calmly.

‘Charming!’

‘She just needs attention. She seems to have most things money can buy, but not too much tender loving care.’

‘Which you intend to rectify,’ Lindy teased.

‘I'm going to try. Hey, we forgot the wine!’ Regan looked down ruefully at her already half eaten meal.

‘We'll have it now.’ Lindy got up to uncork it. ‘We have to toast your new job. Here,’ she handed Regan a full glass of the red wine. ‘Although I have to say you're a braver person than I am, I couldn't leave London for goodness knows how long.’

‘You forget, I was brought up in the country. Actually, I think that helped me get the job.’

Lindy touched her glass to Regan's. ‘The new job,’ she toasted.

‘The new job,’ Regan echoed.

‘Does Donny know yet?’

Regan sighed. ‘Not yet. I'm dreading telling him, actually. Although in a way I shall be glad to get away from him. He's got so possessive lately. I'm hoping to get out of this without too much fuss.’

‘Why not just tell him you aren't interested?’

‘I tried that,’ Regan grimaced, carrying her wine through to their sitting room. ‘He just came round the next evening as if I hadn't said anything to him. I didn't have the heart to go through it all again.’

Lindy curled up in a chair. ‘That's probably what he was counting on.’

‘Probably,’ Regan laughingly agreed. ‘But even he wouldn't follow me down to Cornwall.’

‘I wouldn't count on it. He hardly lets you out of his sight.’ The doorbell rang. ‘Now's your chance to find out.’

‘How can you be sure it's him?’ Regan stood up.

‘Simple, Chris isn't coming over until later.’

‘A process of elimination, Watson,’ she laughed.

She let Donny in, still not sure why she could only feel mild attraction towards him. He was good-looking enough, very tall, with the body of one of his own country's Greek gods, his hair deeply black, waving in wild disorder, his eyes a deep brown, surrounded by thick black lashes. Regan knew that for work he wore smartly tailored suits, working for a shipping firm he had to look his best, but out of work he wore skintight denims and tee-shirts. He was a very good-looking individual of twenty-two—and yet he left her cold.

She accepted the kiss he placed on her lips, averting her face as he would have deepened the caress. She wished he would accept her friendship and not keep trying to make it something it could never be.

Lindy had gone to her bedroom by the time they entered the sitting-room, leaving the field clear for Regan to tell Donny of her future change of location, no doubt. As she had already known, he didn't like it, not one little bit.

‘You will hate it there,’ he said angrily. ‘There will be no night life there, no parties, no discos. Just think of the fun we have here.’

‘To tell you the truth, the parties and discos have started to pall a bit. Whatever happened to moonlight walks and days spent by the river?’

His expression showed his disgust. ‘I cannot imagine anything worse!’ he groaned.

‘Not here in London, no. Go for a moonlight walk and you're likely to get mugged, and the pollution of the river is likely to kill you if you get too near. I'm a country girl, Donny, and I'm looking forward to the move.’

‘And what about me?’ he asked moodily. ‘You know what will happen to us if you move away from here.’

‘There is no us, Donny,’ she dismissed softly. ‘And as I told you, I want to go. I lived in London because I had to, now I've finished college I would like to move back out again.’

‘You cannot tell me you will not miss all this,’ he scorned, his accent deepening in his anger. ‘I would go mad if I had to live in some quiet backwater.’

‘That's where we differ. I'm looking forward to it.’

‘You are determined to go?’ he knew that stubborn look of old.

‘Yes.’

‘All right,’ he sighed. ‘But remember this, I tried to stop you. You will remember that?’

Regan laughed. ‘I'll remember. And I'm sure to miss you.’

‘That is what I am hoping.’

‘Oh, I see,’ she nodded. ‘A case of absence making the heart grow fonder.’

‘Oh, Regan,’ his eyes pleaded, ‘I wish you would not go.’ He seemed about to say more and then checked himself. ‘I cannot stop you?’ he said resignedly.

‘No.’

‘Very well. As there are only a couple of days left before you are to leave I intend showing you everything you are going to miss, starting tonight with a party one of the girls is throwing.’

The next two days were a rush. When Regan wasn't out with Donny she was either packing or shopping, a lot of the clothing she had worn at college not being suitable to wear as a companion to an almost sixteen-year-old. Most of her things wouldn't set too good an example of neatness.

And then there was the call to her aunt and uncle, their disappointment immense when they knew she was moving even farther away from them. She was upset about that herself, being very close to them. In fact they had been bringing her up even before her father had died, her mother being Aunt Edith's younger sister. Regan's mother had died when she was seven, although she and her mother had often lived with Aunt Edith and Uncle Fred, since her father was often away.

As soon as her mother had died her aunt and uncle had stepped in to look after her, her father only putting in the occasional appearance. She had loved her father with a love akin to hero-worship, had come to know him as the man who turned up for a day or two bearing gifts and then disappeared again for six months or so. When he had suddenly died, and stopped appearing every now and then to disrupt the even tenor of her young life, she had for a few brief seconds felt a sense of relief. The guilt for that moment had never left her.

Finally Sunday morning came around, bringing bright sunshine with it. Regan donned one of the new sundresses she had acquired, and waited anxiously for Clive Western to arrive. Lindy had only just gone to bed; her night shifts for this year were just starting. Well, at least it would throw her and Christopher, who was moving in later today, in at the deep end. They were to have that test on their relationship straight away. Regan hoped it would work out for them.

Saying goodbye to Donny hadn't been easy, and she hoped he wasn't going to make a nuisance of himself in the near future. Mr Western had seemed nice, but he might not consider Donny a suitable friend for the companion of his daugher.

When the doorbell rang at exactly nine o'clock she knew it was him, and picked up her suitcase before taking one last look around what had been home to her for a long time now.

The drive was long and tiring, although the Mercedes was the ultimate in comfort. The powerful engine ate up the miles, and when the two of them weren't talking there was always the radio to fill in their silences. In actual fact Clive Western seemed to be becoming more and more preoccupied the nearer their destination they got, and with the heat of the day, the relaxing music and the comfort of her surroundings Regan soon fell asleep.

She felt terrible when she woke up; she always did if she fell asleep during the day. She sat up, smoothing back her long hair, wishing now that she had smoothed it back in the style she had had at her interview. She must look a mess.

‘Feeling better?’ Clive Western turned to smile at her.

‘A bit bedraggled,’ she admitted ruefully.

‘I'll be stopping for petrol in a minute, perhaps you would like to freshen up then.’

Ten minutes later she felt grateful for his thoughtfulness, her face newly washed, her make-up renewed and her hair brushed. Ready to face anyone, in fact.

The house certainly was remote, a large grey brick building set high on the cliff top, the only apparent habitation for several miles. There were several outbuildings, a couple of them looking like stables. Regan hoped so, she would love to go riding once again. She hadn't been able to go since her move to London, and it had been a pastime she particularly enjoyed.

Clive Western brought the car to a halt in the driveway at the front of the house, and after getting out Regan went to peer over the edge of the cliff to the sheer drop to the turbulent blue-grey sea below. The water looked icy cold, although in the heat of the day it probably wasn't, crashing against the jagged rocks that were scattered along the shoreline.

‘Brr!’ she shivered, turning away to meet Clive Western's curious stare. ‘It doesn't look very inviting,’ she explained.

‘It's very dangerous,’ he confirmed, taking her suitcase out of the boot of the car. ‘I wouldn't advise that you attempt to swim in it. There's a pool at the back of the house, I should use that.’

‘I think I will, thank you.’ She was perfectly well aware of how treacherous the Cornish coast could be, there were reports of deaths there every year. ‘I saw some stables too—will I be allowed to use one of the horses?’

‘You ride?’ He sounded surprised.

Regan smiled. ‘I'm a country girl, remember?’

‘Of course,’ he smiled back. ‘I can't see why you shouldn't ride one of the horses, they could probably do with the exercise.’

‘Oh, lovely!’ Her eyes glowed deeply blue in her pleasure.

‘Come into the house, Miss Thomas. I'm sure you're as ready for your lunch as I am. Mrs Hall will take you up to your room first,’ he said as the housekeeper came out into the reception area to meet them. ‘I have to go to the office, but no doubt we shall meet again later,’ he told Regan with a regretful smile. ‘Work has to come first, as usual,’ he grimaced.

Mrs Hall was a rotund woman in her fifties, with a friendly welcoming smile on her lips, but her dignity demanding a certain respect. Regan knew that her job as companion could be a friendless one, not fitting in with the household staff and yet not a member of the family either, but Mrs Hall soon showed her there would be no resentment of her in any household she ran.

‘Come along with me, my dear,’ Mrs Hall invited in what must surely be a local accent. ‘Work, work, work,’ she shook her head. ‘These men seem to think of nothing else. Working in the office on a Sunday morning,’ she mumbled. ‘It wouldn't do for me, I'm sure.’

‘I suppose Mr Western is kept pretty busy,’ Regan said noncommittally, mentally thinking that Clive Western's time when he arrived would have been better spent saying hello to his young daughter.

‘He is that,’ the housekeeper chuckled. ‘Kept on his toes, he is. Here we are,’ and she opened a door, ushering Regan inside. She stood with her arms crossed over her bosom, looking with satisfaction about the scrupulously clean room. ‘I hope this is to your liking.’

It was a beautiful room, the decor a range of different shades of mauve, from pale lilac to deep purple. Scatter cushions adorned the huge double bed, making it a comfortable place to rest during the day too. Deep purple carpet, pale lilac bedspread, wallpaper comprising all the mauve shades imaginable—it was a lovely room, decorated with a woman's comfort in mind. There was even a range of perfumes on the dressing-table, also an expensive-looking brush and comb set.

‘Bathroom's through here,’ Mrs Hall opened another door. ‘A private bathroom, of course,’ she added proudly, just as if she felt the house were really her own.

‘It's lovely,’ and so much more than Regan had expected! But then with wealth like Clive Western's she didn't suppose there was a less luxurious room that could be allocated to her.

‘Good,’ the housekeeper beamed her pleasure. ‘Lunch will be in half an hour, but I'm sure you'll see the master before then. In the meantime, I'll get a refreshing pot of tea sent up.’

‘Thank you,’ Regan smiled shyly, feeling completely welcome—by the staff at least. ‘I'd like that.’

She sat down on the bed once she was alone, hardly able to believe her good fortune, looking about her in a dazed fashion. Her room and bathroom were truly beautiful, much too beautiful for a mere companion.

She only hoped Helena Western wouldn't prove too difficult. What little Clive Western had revealed of his daughter made Regan aware that she would have to be firm from the start. Any sign of weakness and she had no doubt her charge would take advantage of it.

Regan slipped off her shoes, taking off the jacket that matched the pretty sundress she was wearing and putting it over a chair before she moved to open the window, breathing deeply of the fresh sea air.

She jumped nervously at the sound of a tray crashing down on to a surface, and turned slowly to face Helena Western. She knew it had to be her, sure that no maid under Mrs Hall's authority would dare to behave in such a manner.

‘I apprehended the maid bringing you this,’ the young girl with flashing green eyes informed her coldly. ‘She shouldn't be waiting on you, you're not wanted here,’ she said insultingly.

Yes, this was definitely Helena Western, although she must take after her dead mother in looks; she had none of her father's fair colouring. Thick dark hair, almost black, cascaded in wild disorder halfway down her back, those flashing green eyes, darkly olive skin, and a body that seemed to be growing too fast for her years, all made up the unruly adolescent Helena Western undoubtedly was. She would be a beautiful girl when she was older and more able to accept her femininity.

‘I suppose you consider yourself above poor Mary,’ she continued resentfully. ‘Well, as far as I'm concerned you rate far below the lowest servant here.’

‘Helena!’ a harsh voice rasped the girl's name in harsh disapproval, a husky male voice, the owner of which Regan couldn't yet see, as he was still out in the corridor. ‘You'll go to your room,’ he ordered. ‘Now!’

‘But Papa,’ Helena protested, ‘I don't want this woman here, you know I don't!’ The defiance seemed to have gone out of her now.

Papa? Regan frowned. That voice, slightly accented, didn't belong to Clive Western. But then when had he ever said Helena was his daughter? Hadn't she just assumed that was the case? She waited apprehensively for her first sight of Helena's father: he didn't sound at all like the pleasant man Clive Western had proved to be on the journey down here.

‘You will go to your room immediately,’ that harsh voice repeated the order. ‘I will not tell you again.’

‘Yes, Papa.’ Helena turned to give Regan one last resentful glare before disappearing out of the room.

Regan's eyes widened as a man stepped into the open doorway, a tall man who seemed to block out most of the daylight in the room. He stepped forward and she was able to distinguish his features properly. What she saw made her face pale and then turn grey, her legs no longer feeling as if they would support her. He was the avenging angel from all of her childhood nightmares, the man she had wished never to meet.

She would know that face anywhere—hadn't it haunted her for years, day and night? ‘Andreas Vatis …’ she said faintly.

He gave a cruel smile. ‘Right first time, Miss—Matthews.’

She sat down before she fell down, looking at Andreas Vatis like a mouse must look at a particularly cruel cat—before it ate it. That cruel hard face, with the pencil-thin scar that ran from the bridge of his hawk-like nose over his right eye and disappeared into the thick hair at his temple, black hair going grey over his ears. Green eyes looked at her contemptuously, with nothing to show that the scar and its internal injuries had rendered this man blind in his right eye, temporarily completely blind but now having regained the sight of his left eye. The firm mouth was bared in a smile of taunting humour, his teeth very white against his naturally dark skin.

Regan had never met this man before, and yet she knew so much about him. A Greek to his fingertips, he had been a rakish hell-raiser when the accident that had blinded him had taken place, an accident on the racing track that her father had also been involved in. It was after this accident that her father had lived openly with this man's estranged wife.

‘My—my name is Thomas now,’ she told him tonelessly. ‘My aunt and uncle adopted me.’

He nodded. ‘To save you the pain of your father's sins,’ he grated. ‘But a simple change of name cannot save you from me.’

If anything she went even greyer; this man's expression frightened her. ‘Save me …?’

‘Yes,’ Andreas Vatis rasped. ‘I am a Greek, Regan Matthews, and a Greek never forgets an insult or wrong done to him. It may take years to attain retribution for that wrong, but you can be sure we will always be avenged on our sworn enemies.’

Regan backed away from the glittering dislike in those green eyes, still finding it difficult to believe he was half blind. He didn't appear to be a man who would have patience with any imperfection, although his harsh good looks would never be forgotten by man or woman. How had her father dared to take this man's wife from him? By seeing him rendered blind first, that was how.

God, it still sickened her after all these years. Her aunt and uncle had tried to keep the truth from her, but they couldn't hide the fact that her father had taken this man's wife from him when he was in no position to stop him. Regan had learnt of her father's behaviour by listening to her aunt and uncle talking when they weren't aware she could hear.

A racing car driver, like Andreas Vatis, her father had seen Andreas Vatis’ wife and wanted her for himself. Of course Gina Vatis must have been a very shallow woman to have turned to the other man when it appeared her husband was going to be blind for life, but as far as Regan was concerned her father had been the biggest offender against the man. And now it appeared that Andreas Vatis wanted revenge in some way.

She gulped. ‘I—I have nothing, no money, nothing,’ she told him desperately, although what this man would want with more money when he must be a millionaire time and time again she had no idea.

The Vatis family, of which Andreas was now the head, had always been in shipping, although Andreas had chosen to enjoy himself racing cars until the accident had made that impossible. In time he had taken over the family business, and according to Clive Western, they had now expanded into hotels and holiday accommodation.

Andreas Vatis threw back his head in a harsh laugh, the column of his thickly corded throat deeply brown, the cream silk shirt and cream trousers he wore emphasising the slenderness of his waist and hips and the breadth of his muscular shoulders. He was a man in the peak of physical condition, much fitter than men half his thirty-five years. ‘I do not want money, Regan,’ he told her with a hard smile. ‘But you are right, I do want something. I want that which is mine by right.’

She frowned. ‘But I don't have anything.’ She shook her head in puzzlement, feeling as if one of her nightmares were becoming a reality.

‘On the contrary,’ he drawled. ‘You have everything that I want,’ he said softly, his gaze running over her appraisingly, almost insolent in its intensity. ‘I want only that which your father took from me.’

She swallowed hard. ‘And that is?’

‘A wife, Regan.’ His hard face was unyielding. ‘I am going to take you for my wife.’




CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_cfd1c761-7904-5a33-896b-3b764fe48cbf)


‘NO!’ she gasped. ‘You can't mean that!’ She searched that cold hard face for some sign of mockery, but all she could see was his hatred and contempt of her.

‘But I do mean it,’ he told her calmly. ‘I have waited almost eleven years for this moment. I cannot tell you how much it pleases me.’

‘But I——What does it all mean?’ she demanded.

‘It means that I have brought you here to become my wife, the wife your father chose to deprive me of.’ Andreas Vatis’ voice tautened grimly. ‘I have never been particularly attracted to redheads,’ he added insultingly. ‘But then I will not be able to distinguish the colour of your hair in the dark.’

Regan gulped. ‘In the dark?’ she echoed.

He nodded his arrogant head. ‘When I take you to my bed. Only the sense of touch is important at such times, and you look as if your body might be quite—pleasant to touch.’

She blushed under his assessing gaze, feeling as if he stripped the clothes from her at a glance, saw each delectable curve beneath. ‘You're mad!’ her voice quivered in her fear. ‘I'm not going to marry you, and you certainly aren't going to touch me, in the dark or at any other time.’

‘Are you sure of that?’ He seemed unperturbed by her outburst, his calmness making Regan feel even more uneasy.

‘Very sure,’ but her voice quivered uncertainly.

‘Then I will keep you here until you change your mind. Of course I will visit your bed every night until you agree to marry me, which should not be long—Helena was born exactly nine months after the consummation of my first marriage,’ he added with grim humour.

‘You mean——’

‘I mean that unless you agree to marry me now you could find yourself in the even more unwelcome position, in your opinion, of being my mistress.’

‘But why?’ she cried. ‘Why are you doing this to me?’ Her anguish was obvious, her blue eyes shadowed.

‘I have already explained it to you,’ he told her haughtily. ‘I want from your father the wife he stole from me, and as both he and Gina are dead I intend taking his daughter instead. You will provide me with the sons I need to inherit the Vatis empire, the sons Gina would have given me if not enticed away by James Matthews, your father.’

‘But I——You got me here under false pretences, didn't you?’ she accused. ‘You knew I would never have come here if I'd known I was to be employed by Andreas Vatis. I'm only too aware of how you must hate me, and I wouldn't willingly come within a hundred miles of you. What I don't understand is how you arranged it all.’

He shrugged his broad shoulders, walking over to study the perfumes she had so admired earlier. ‘It was all too easy, Regan. I have always known of your existence, of your adoption by your uncle and aunt, but as a child you were no good to me. Now you are a woman, a very beautiful one——’

‘Except for the red hair,’ she cut in bitterly.

He looked at the waving tresses. ‘Perhaps I will come to like it in time. But as I said, it is not important that I do.’

‘Because you won't see it in the dark,’ she said dully, a terrible feeling of inevitability washing over her. It was as if she had known for the past ten years that something like this was going to happen, that she wasn't really surprised by anything Andreas Vatis was saying to her.

‘Exactly,’ he agreed cruelly. ‘But to get back to how I arranged this meeting.’ He picked up one of the bottles of perfume, smelling its fragrance. He grimaced, and replaced it to pick up one of the others. ‘I have known of your every move since you were nine years old. I knew of your school friends, of your chosen career, of the friends you have made in London.’

‘What if I'd become serious about one of these friends, had decided to marry one of them?’

‘You almost did, did you not?’ he enquired calmly. ‘A certain Rick Davidson. The romance,’ he sneered the word, ‘broke up when you found him at his flat with another girl.’

‘You've certainly done your homework,’ she snapped.

‘Not at all. I have always found Diana very—obliging.’

Regan's eyes widened. ‘You mean you arranged that too?’

‘It was not difficult, let me assure you. Diana liked Rick Davidson very much and your boy-friend was only too willing. They are married now, you know. Since that time you have been escorted by a Donny Paulos.’

‘Don't tell me,’ she scorned. ‘You arranged that too.’

‘It was necessary,’ Andreas Vatis told her coldly.

‘You mean you did arrange it?’ she gasped.

‘Certainly. I felt it safer to put you in the care of one of my employees rather than risk you becoming seriously involved again. Of course, he had no idea of my reason for wanting you watched.’

So this was the reason Donny refused to be shaken off! ‘That's disgusting!’

‘Perhaps,’ he conceded with a nod of his head. ‘But I do not want anything but a virgin in my bed. You are to know only my possession.’

Regan met his gaze challengingly. ‘And how can you be so sure that I haven't been to bed with Donny? He's very attractive,’ she added tauntingly.

‘But aware of his own vulnerability. If he has laid one finger on you that I would class as intimate I will break him. I will make sure he never works again, that all of his friends suddenly forget his existence, that his family——’

‘Okay, okay, I think you've made your point,’ she said miserably.

His eyes narrowed to icy green slits. ‘Did he touch you?’

‘Frequently,’ she answered flippantly.

‘Intimately?’ he demanded to know.

She shrugged. ‘It depends what you call intimate. We all have our own definition. And my idea of intimate may differ from yours.’

He took a threatening step towards her, his strong fingers biting painfully into her arm. ‘You will answer me!’ he ordered. ‘Did he touch you like this?’ His other hand came up to cup one of her breasts through the thin material of her blouse, caressing until he felt the nipple harden to full arousal. ‘Or like this?’ The hand moved to her thighs, moving exploringly over her silky skin. ‘Did he?’ he demanded grimly, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of her thighs.

It was so tempting to say yes, Donny had betrayed her after all. But she didn't doubt that Andreas Vatis would indeed break him, and she wasn't sure he deserved that, for all his deceit. Besides, when he had known of her plans he had tried to stop her. Perhaps he had realised her fate!

‘No, he never touched me like that.’ No man had. She was ashamed of her own response to this man's hands on her body, her breasts still tingling from his touch.

‘Nor any other man?’ he persisted harshly.

‘Nor any other man,’ she admitted dully. No one else had ever induced her to such sexual excitement!

He released her so suddenly she almost fell, but he was seemingly unmoved by the way he had just touched her, moving back to study the perfumes as if he had never deviated his attention from them. ‘When you finished your college course I contacted the employment agency you went to and asked for you to be sent for an interview.’

‘To Clive Western. Is he in on this, too?’ she asked disgustedly.

‘Clive employed you on my instructions, but he did not know the real reason I wanted you here. I think he perhaps imagined I had another relationship in mind.’

‘So Helena doesn't need a companion?’

‘As her stepmother I expect you to become just that. Your duties as my wife will not be too arduous—during the daytime hours.’

Regan glared at him. ‘I've already told you, I'm not going to marry you.’

Andreas Vatis shrugged. ‘That is your choice, of course. Here,’ he handed her one of the perfumes. ‘Wear this tonight when I come to your room.’

‘I won't be here tonight, I'm leaving.’

‘I think not.’ He removed the key to the room, placing it on the outside of the door, his intention clear. ‘And we are three floors up. I would not recommend you jumping,’ he mocked.

‘But you can't keep me here against my will,’ she told him desperately.

‘I am not doing that, you are. As my wife you will be perfectly free to go where you choose—within reason. As my mistress——’

‘Don't you mean sex-slave?’ she scorned.

‘I require sons from you. Unfortunately they cannot be obtained without the sexual act.’

‘You're inhuman!’

‘But you are not,’ he smiled tauntingly. ‘You liked my hands upon you just now. Do not deny it. I am not ignorant of the workings of a woman's body. I know pleasure when I see it, and you liked what I did to you. Tonight there will be more, much more,’ he promised mockingly.

‘No!’ Her voice came out shrill.

His eyes narrowed. ‘Does that mean you will marry me?’

‘No,’ she shook her head firmly.

He shrugged. ‘Then you will wear the perfume tonight. It is called “Desirable"—let us hope I find you that way by tonight.’

Regan was aware that he was insulting her again, that his words were designed to cause humiliation. ‘You can't get away with this sort of thing in this country,’ she informed him tautly. ‘It's called kidnapping. And rape will be added to that if you carry out your threat.’

‘You came here of your own free will, I have witnesses to the fact.’

‘But I'm not staying from the same freedom.’

‘In a few weeks’ time you will not want to leave,’ he told her with indifference. ‘I will make sure of that.’

‘You're doing all this because of what happened ten years ago?’

His mouth tightened. ‘Yes.’

‘And if I agree to marry you?’

‘Then you will be shown every consideration.’

‘Except that I would still have to share your bed.’

‘Unless you know of some other way we can have children.’ His smile was cruelly mocking.

Regan took a deep breath. ‘All right, I'll marry you.’

His green eyes narrowed questioningly, his intent gaze searching her features. Regan forced herself to remain calm. ‘You are up to something.’ he said slowly, suspiciously. ‘Do you think that by agreeing you will encourage me to let you roam freely about the estate? Do you take me for a fool, Regan? You will remain in your room until tomorrow. I have arranged for us to be married then.’

‘You were so sure of me.’ she said bitterly.

‘You have no real choice,’ he told her arrogantly.

Oh yes, she did, and one he wasn't aware of. She hadn't been a tomboy for nothing. Once Andreas Vatis had left her room she intended climbing down the drainpipe she had seen outside her window, something she had done a lot as a child, and escaping that way. ‘Does that mean that you'll leave me alone tonight?’

‘Poor Regan, are you afraid of being in a man's arms?’ he taunted.

‘Not a man's,’ she flushed. ‘But the devil's, yes.’

‘So I am the devil now, am I?’ he rasped, obviously not liking what she said. ‘Then make sure you do not bring out the devil in me when I possess you,’ he warned. ‘I could hurt you very much.’

He would never possess her, never! ‘Will you have my lunch sent up here?’ she asked.

He looked taken aback, finally giving a husky laugh, ‘I will never understand the workings of a woman's mind—her body, yes, but never her mind. One minute we are talking of sharing a bed, the next you are talking of food.’

Because her mind was racing on to her escape, to gaining the most time before it was discovered she had gone, and she needed to know whether a maid would be coming up here in the next hour or so. ‘They're both appetites,’ she dismissed. ‘At the moment I happen to consider the latter of more importance. And you probably don't understand a woman's mind because that has never been the part of a woman you're interested in.’ She knew he kept a low profile on his affairs, but she also knew there had to have been several, the experience of his hands hadn't been carried forward ten years from his wife. Besides, he emitted a sexual aura that in any other circumstances she might have been drawn to. But never through force, or under duress!

‘You are probably right,’ he didn't rise to her taunt. ‘And yes, your lunch will be sent up here. I dare not risk you seeing Clive and trying to convince him to take you back to London with him. He is loyal to me, but he also has a strong sense of what is wrong and what is right.’

‘And he would know this is wrong!’

‘I'm afraid so,’ he nodded.

Regan was more and more convinced her plan was going to work. Once she had climbed down the drainpipe she could stow away in the back of Clive's car. There was a blanket on the back seat she could cover herself with, and he had said he would be leaving shortly after lunch. If she timed this right she shouldn't have to be cramped on the back seat for long. Once away from here she was sure she could convince Clive of Andreas Vatis’ ruthless plan to slake his revenge on her.

‘Then you admit it,’ she accused.

‘I admit that to an Englishman what I am doing would not be thought—gentlemanly,’ he sneered the word. ‘But I do not consider it gentlemanly of one man to try to kill another either. Oh yes,’ he said grimly as she made to protest, ‘your father did not intend to blind or even maim me when he forced me off the race circuit, he intended to kill.’

Regan was once again deathly pale. ‘I don't believe you,’ she shook her head in denial of his words. ‘My father——’

‘Was a very dangerous man. He thought that by killing me he would be free to marry Gina. But we Vatises do not die so easily. I was very badly injured——’

‘I know,’ she put in quietly. ‘I—I saw a report of the crash.’

‘So,’ he nodded. ‘Both my legs and one arm were broken, several ribs also, one of which punctured a lung. But none of these things mattered to me in comparison with the taking of my sight. That I could never forgive.’ His mouth twisted bitterly. ‘Gina could take none of it, and I admit I was not a sight to please the eyes of a woman, not even the woman who had sworn before God to love me for all time. Gina went on a visit to her parents and she did not come back. Your father had arranged to meet her there, deciding that it would have to be a divorce after all. There was only one thing he did not take into account, and that was that I would still not divorce Gina. I do not believe in it.’

‘My father loved your wife. He—he wanted to marry her. I don't believe he would harm anyone to get what he wanted.’

‘Considering he was no father to you I am surprised you still feel it necessary to defend him,’ Andreas Vatis scorned.

‘I'm not defending him, I'm saying you're wrong about him. My father would never deliberately hurt anyone, let alone try to kill them.’

‘But I have witnesses, Regan.’

She had gone very pale. ‘W-witnesses?’

‘Of course,’ he nodded haughtily. ‘You are not listening to the ramblings, of a demented man,’ he snapped. ‘Shortly before the race in which I was injured your father and I had an argument. He wanted me to divorce Gina, when I refused he threatened to kill me.’

‘The words of any angry man.’ Regan remembered her father's explosive temper well, his nature as fiery as the red lights in his hair.

‘I do not think so. And neither did the other five drivers who heard him say it. While I lay unconscious in my hospital bed an enquiry into the accident was taking place, privately, of course. It would not do to cast aspersions on a man's character until they were sure. If I had not been unconscious I could have told them that your father deliberately swerved in front of me.’ His harsh features were frightening in their anger.

‘And the—the enquiry?’ she hardly dared to ask.

His dark gaze levelled on her. ‘It was dropped.’

‘There you are, then,’ she said triumphantly. ‘You must be mistaken.’

‘I am not mistaken. Strange, is it not, that your father retired from racing after that race? A few months later he was dead.’

‘And you've been planning this revenge all those years.’

‘Oh yes. I told you, it may take a long time, but a Greek never forgives or forgets.’

‘So it seems,’ she said dully, putting a hand up to her aching temple. ‘I—I would like to lie down. I'm not feeling well.’

‘Poor Regan,’ he taunted. ‘What a shock for you!’

‘Sh-shock?’ she queried.

‘To come here thinking you are simply starting a new job when in fact you are to become my wife. A dutiful one, I hope.’

‘Never!’ Her eyes flashed at him. ‘I don't intend being meek, in bed or out of it.’

His green eyes sparkled with interest. ‘I will like that. Yes, I will like that. But you must understand that your position as my wife will not be the ordinary one.’

‘I already know that,’ she scoffed. ‘You've made your feelings very clear.’

‘I do not think so,’ he shook his head. ‘In Greece a wife is revered above all other women, respected as the mother of our children. We have our—friends, that is accepted, but the wife always comes first. Gina had that place in my life and she abused my trust of her. You will not be given the same consideration.’

‘Oh, I see, your friend will come first.’

‘I believe I said friends, and that is exactly what I meant. You, will provide me with my sons and I will get my pleasure elsewhere.’

‘My God, you are inhuman!’ she gasped.

‘I think you will find I am human,’ he corrected. ‘If you learn to please me you may even find I can be very human. I may even forget my friends and stay in my wife's bed if I find you pleasing enough.’

‘You can go to hell for all I care!’

He smiled mockingly. ‘Isn't that where the devil belongs?’

‘Go away,’ Regan choked. ‘Go away and leave me alone!’

‘I intend to. But I will lock the door, so that you will not be—tempted to try and escape.’

She heard the key turn in the lock immediately after he had closed the door. God, he would pay for this! As soon as she was free and far away from here she would tell the police about him. The man had to be insane!

How could she have guessed when she had left London so happily this morning that this man would be behind it all, the man who even ten years ago had frightened her. There had been several photographs of him in the newspapers at the time of the accident, the crash that he claimed her father had deliberately caused. And just a photograph of his harsh features had been enough to frighten her; in the flesh he was even more daunting, and his intention of becoming her husband, in every sense, terrified the life out of her.

Could he be right about her father's involvement in his accident? Could he really have meant to kill Andreas Vatis? Regan had seen her father furiously angry only once in her life, when he had struck her uncle to the gound. But murder? She didn't believe he was capable of that, no matter what Andreas Vatis said to the contrary.

She jumped nervously as the key turned in the lock once more, forgetting Andreas Vatis’ promise to provide her with lunch. Perhaps she wouldn't need to climb down the drainpipe after all—surely a maid wouldn't lock her back in this room? Her hopes were dashed as Andreas Vatis himself entered with the luncheon tray.

He smiled at her disappointment. ‘You did not expect me to make it possible for you to appeal to one of my staff?’ he quirked an eyebrow mockingly. ‘Really, Regan you surprise me. I am well aware that until you are actually my wife, no one, if they knew of our past connection, would believe you are staying here through choice. Until after the ceremony tomorrow you will see only me.’

‘Won't your staff think that a little odd?’

‘My staff have already been acquainted with the fact that my fiancée is feeling unwell.’

She swallowed hard. ‘Your—your fiancée?’

‘Did you not realise that everyone here believes us to be engaged to be married?’ He shrugged. ‘With the haste of the wedding it was necessary to tell them this.’

He had it all worked out, had covered every loophole! It had never occurred to her that Mrs Hall believed her to be her employer's future bride. Only Clive Western knew the truth, and he was leaving after lunch!

Andreas Vatis laughed at her expression of dismay, a soft mocking laugh that taunted. ‘I have been planning this for years, Regan. You have only known an hour or so. You would be advised to admit defeat, and stop fighting me.’

‘I'll fight you to hell and back!’

‘Tomorrow night I'll take you there,’ he promised cruelly. ‘Your father put me there for two years, took away my sight and made me a prisoner of my hatred for him and his family. When I came out of the darkness I determined to take you there one day.’

‘But I can't be blamed for what my father did or didn't do.’ Regan despised herself for her almost pleading tone. This man was granite, pure granite, and no amount of pleading on her part would change his mind about her, so she might as well save her breath. ‘I hardly ever saw him. I never had any life with him, he was always too busy. And his career didn't allow for a child tagging along behind him.’

‘I know that,’ this tall Greek said arrogantly. ‘It is because of your early removal from your father's influence that I feel able to offer you marriage——’

‘Offer me marriage?’ she repeated in amazement. ‘I don't remember there being any question about it. You told me I was to marry you.’

‘I seem to remember I gave you an alternative.’

‘Of being your mistress or your wife! What a choice,’ she scorned.

She knew she had gone too far by the white ring of anger about his firm forbidding mouth and his suddenly cold eyes. She hadn't realised before how alive with feeling his eyes were, how reflective of his mood they could be. Right now they showed his burning anger.

‘You little bitch!’ he spat out, looming up in front of her, his hands moving out and shaking her. ‘Do you think I enjoy being like this? That I like being half blind? My God, I hate it! But being half blind does not make me half a man, as you are about to find out,’ he finished grimly.

‘No——’ her protest was cut off by the brutal assault of his mouth on hers, forcing her lips savagely apart with the tip of his tongue, devouring her until she was senseless.

He was all demand, all aroused male as he pushed her down on, the bed before covering her with his body. He held her hands pinned above her head with one of his as she tried to fight free of him.

‘No, please …’ she cried her fear of the determination clearly written in his face.

‘Oh yes,’ he grated. ‘Only this way will you learn that I am the master here, that you will obey my will and no other.’ His free hand came up to clasp the top of her sundress, pulling downward with complete disregard for the material. Several of the buttons came off altogether and the others easily parted from their openings, leaving her breasts clearly visible through the cream lacy material of her bra.

‘Andreas!’ she pleaded with him in spite of herself, but saw no softening of the anger in that harsh face. If only he would release her hands … ‘Let me go,’ she begged.

‘Soon you will beg to stay in my arms,’ he rasped. ‘Soon you will be oblivious of all but me,’ he promised grimly, tearing aside the thin lace of her bra to release her breasts to his avid gaze. ‘I had thought in this day and age that women no longer bothered with such a needless article of clothing,’ he showed his impatience with the lacy garment by ripping it even further. ‘With a body such as this you certainly do not need it.’ All the time he was talking he was caressing her creamy skin, watching the emotions that flitted across her face, smiling his pleasure as she seemed to lose control. He bent his head to kiss her breasts, laughing softly as she groaned.

Regan felt as if she were drowning, a tide of emotion sweeping over her body and making her feel dizzy. She felt hot and cold at one and same time, wanted to be free and yet wanted him to continue with his lovemaking, wanted, wanted——

Suddenly he was no longer with her on the bed but had moved to stand in front of her as someone came into the room.

‘Mrs Hall!’ He seemed relieved, moving aside to reveal Regan's dishevelled appearance. ‘I thought it was Helena,’ he explained. ‘And I am afraid that after such a long separation from my fiancée I became lost to all sensibility.’

Regan had pulled the folds of her dress together, finding herself unable to look at the housekeeper. How damning this looked! How could she have let herself respond to that devil? Oh, she knew she couldn't have stopped him, he was much too strong for her to have done that, but did she have to respond to him? And he knew exactly what effect he had had on her, she could see he did by the mockery in his eyes as he turned to look at her.

Mrs Hall looked a little taken aback, but she soon had her expression under control. ‘I just came up to make sure Miss Thomas has everything she needs,’ she said primly.

Andreas Vatis gave a wolfish smile, more relaxed than Regan had so far seen him. ‘I think she has everything she could possibly want,’ he said humorously, casting a triumphant smile in her direction.

The housekeeper allowed a smile to lighten her expression. ‘Yes, I suppose she has. I'm sorry I interrupted you.’

‘I think it is as well that you did.’ Andreas walked to the door with her. ‘If you had not I might have been tempted to anticipate my wedding night, and that would never do. I am sure both Regan and I thank you.’

Mrs Hall noticed the luncheon tray. ‘Would you like me to get you something else for your lunch, Miss Thomas? I'm sure this will be cold by now.’

‘I——’

‘Miss Thomas isn't feeling well,’ Andreas cut in smoothly. ‘She does not feel like eating, do you, darling?’ His mocking gaze dared her to disagree.

Regan cowered beneath that look. ‘No,’ she confirmed. ‘I'm afraid I'm feeling rather sick.’ The look she directed at Andreas Vatis left him in no doubt as to what had caused this nausea. She knew by the tightening of his mouth and the clenching of his hands into fists at his side that he had got her silent message.

If only it were true that he had made her feel sick with his touch, but it was disgust with herself that had done that. How could she have responded to a man who had accused her father of attempted murder and seemed set on forcing her to replace the wife her father had taken from him? She was shocked and dismayed at her reaction to this—this devil with the glittering green eyes.

‘Perhaps a pot of tea or coffee?’ the housekeeper persisted.

‘No, I—— Thank you, but I think I'll just lie down and have a rest.’ If she didn't soon get out of here Clive Western would be on his way back to London without her safely hidden in the back of his car. ‘Could I do that?’ she asked pointedly.

‘But of course, my dear.’ Andreas Vatis moved to the door. ‘Mrs Hall and I will leave you now. I will come back later to make sure you are not feeling any worse.’ That was a threat, not a promise.

Regan glared her dislike of him. ‘Thank you,’ she said between tight lips.

He smiled at her, a mocking smile that made her even angrier. ‘Rest now, Regan.’ His words seemed to imply she was going to need it.

She waited until she heard the sound of the key turning in the lock before going over to the window. Goodness, it was a long way down! Come to think of it, it was a long time since she had climbed even a tree, and a drainpipe certainly didn't have the footholds of a tree. Still, there was no other way she was going to get out of here before tomorrow, before her wedding. And if that wasn't incentive enough to climb down ten floors, let alone three, she didn't know what was! Especially when the proposed bridegroom was Andreas Vatis.

Just what sort of person did he think she was, that she would meekly accept being forced into a marriage with a man who made no secret of his hatred of her? Well, whatever he thought he was wrong, there was nothing meek about her, and never would be.

She changed into denims and a sleeveless vest-top for her climb. She would have to get out on the ledge first, the nearest drainpipe was a couple of feet away. Getting out on to the ledge was easy enough, but after that it wasn't quite so easy. A look down at the ground made her knees shake. It certainly was a long way down! If she should fall …!

That just didn't bear thinking about. She made sure her balance was right before reaching out for the pipe, finding it was farther away than she had thought and having to make a grab for it at the last moment. It gave a terrific groan as it took the whole of her weight but didn't seem to be loosened at all. Its fastenings to the wall were her only footholds, and now that she was actually on it it was difficult to stop herself from falling.

It was a slow climb down, but she seemed to be making it. All she had to do when she reached the ground was——

‘My God!’ she heard a male voice rasp beneath her. ‘What do you think you are doing, Regan?’

She looked down over her shoulder, and the ground seemed to spin dizzily beneath her. Andreas Vatis—it could only have been her tormentor!—stood on the gravel driveway looking up at her, those luminous green eyes incredulous.

She looked back at the wall, trying to stop the sudden spinning of the world. She was still about twelve feet from the ground, out of arm's reach and yet too far from her bedroom window to climb back. So much for her certainty that she would be able to climb down without a hitch!

‘What does it look like?’ she asked through gritted teeth.

‘You are either very stupid or very brave,’ he ground out angrily.

‘Or just desperate,’ she said shakily.

‘Come down from there,’ he ordered. ‘Now!’

‘What do you think I'm trying——’ That angry look round at him was her undoing. Everything started to spin once again, and at the same time her left foot slipped from its precarious perch. ‘Oh no——’ she had time to cry before she began to fall.

The ground suddenly wasn't twelve feet away any more, it was painfully close. And she lay upon it like a broken doll.




CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_f9eb78d5-5aee-517e-b0c6-1ce31a16bcc8)


AFTER that first moment of impact Regan prayed for oblivion, but it was not to be. She tried to land on her feet, a natural reaction, and the pain that shot up her leg from her ankle was excruciating. Her legs buckled beneath her and she landed with a crash of her left shoulder, the gravel cutting into her bare skin.

Andreas Vatis was at her side in seconds, turning her over to face him, his anger evident by the grim tautness about that firm mouth. ‘You stupid child!’ He took hold of her shoulders and shook her. ‘You stupid, stupid child!’

‘My shoulder!’ she cried, her face paling even more. ‘Oh God, Andreas, please don't do that!’ She tried to push his hand away from her bruised and ragged flesh.

His hand came away covered in blood and he gave an impatient exclamation before bending down to swing her up into his arms. ‘Surely you were not so desperate to escape my arms that you would rather die?’ he rasped curtly.

‘Yes,’ she groaned against his chest, aware, even in her pain, of the warm male smell of him, of the fine mat of dark hair against her cheek. ‘I—I wanted to get away,’ she admitted.





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