Back in the Lion's Den. Elizabeth Power
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would have done, if he’d been able to, the day he’d rolled on that wasp-infested chocolate wrapper. When Jodie didn’t answer, however, she went on, ‘He’s too rich, he’s got a freezer cabinet for a heart and is about as approachable as a turned on water cannon. I wouldn’t sleep with Conan Ryder if he was the last man on—What?’
Jodie’s eyes had come into the equation now. But even as it dawned on Sienna what her neighbour was trying to tell her, too late she felt that prickling awareness she always felt when Conan Ryder was close, and caught his deep voice, low in her ear, as he told her, ‘Don’t worry. You won’t have to. We have enough rooms in Provence for the family not to have to share with the guests.’
Those cool words were at variance with the warmth of his breath against her hair—an unintentional caress that sent tingles along her very nerve-endings. Or was it so unintentional? she wondered, her pulse quickening ridiculously. Because she didn’t think he’d miss a single trick to try and unsettle her.
Impelled by good manners to introduce him to Jodie, she tried to shake off the devastating effects of Conan’s nearness. But before she could find her voice Jodie was shooting out a hand for him to take.
‘I’m Jodie Fisher,’ she pre-empted, smiling broadly at the dynamic-looking man whose bronzed chest oozed virility through a fine and fitted short-sleeved cream shirt, and whose long legs were encased in dark tailored trousers. Her cheeks were unusually flushed. Even being happily married and pregnant didn’t stop a woman trying to get herself noticed by him, Sienna thought despairingly.
‘The pleasure’s all mine, Jodie.’ His manner was charm personified. Never once in all the time she had known him had he smiled at her like that—with such sincere warmth—Sienna realised, annoyed with herself for even thinking it, and telling herself she hardly cared.
‘Well, I’ll be getting back to my hovel …’ Still beaming, Jodie gestured towards the immaculately painted house next door for Conan’s benefit. It made Sienna’s look rather tired and dull in comparison. ‘Daisy’s in the garden with Shadow,’ she told Sienna. ‘Have a lovely time, won’t you?’ From the look she angled towards Conan as she was going out of the gate it was obvious what she meant.
‘You’d better come in.’ Alone with him, Sienna was determined not to let it bother her. ‘We’re nearly ready.’
Daisy was standing mixing play dough on a low table as they came out through the little galley kitchen, chattering happily to her pink hippopotamus, seated on a tiny chair, and the dog, which was stretched out with its head raised, listening interestedly to every word of the childish patter.
‘You’ve got no qualms about leaving a four-year-old with that animal?’ Conan’s disapproval was obvious.
‘No. Why should I have?’ Sienna shot back at him over her shoulder. ‘Shadow would protect her rather than cause her any harm. “That animal”—as you call him—is as gentle as a lamb!’
Peeved by his attitude, which even now questioned her suitability as a mother, she had to bite back the desire to tell him to mind his own business as she plastered on a smile and called out to Daisy, ‘Come here, poppet! There’s somebody I want you to meet.’
Grabbing her hippopotamus, the little girl ran up to them.
‘Do you remember … Mr Ryder?’ Sienna queried after some hesitation. For some reason Uncle Conan didn’t spring easily to her lips—which was crazy, she realised, because that was who he was.
The little girl gazed coyly up at him, her hazel eyes studying him with a seriousness way beyond her years. Eventually she asked, ‘Are you my daddy?’ and something squeezed painfully around Sienna’s heart.
Daisy had never known Niall—not properly anyway. And she certainly couldn’t remember him. So wasn’t it an obvious mistake for her to imagine that Conan might be her father?
Dropping to his haunches, Conan gazed—transfixed—at the little girl who was studying him so intently, and something ripped through him, taking his breath away.
It was Niall at four years old! Niall with his shock of bright hair and his sturdy little body and his frowning bewilderment at the world as he’d looked to him—his older brother—for answers …
The feeling in his chest was almost suffocating. Somehow, though, he recovered himself enough to respond to her question about being her father. ‘No, Daisy, I’m not,’ he murmured huskily.
Had she imagined that crack in his voice? Sienna wondered, noticing how long and tanned and utterly masculine his hands were as they clasped the tiny arms, although he stopped short of actually catching Daisy to him. But she was his late brother’s child, and for the first time it struck Sienna just how much pain the separation between her and Niall’s family might have caused them—all of them. It was something far too uncomfortable to dwell on.
‘This is Daddy’s brother. Your Uncle Conan. Do you remember me telling you about the little holiday we’re going on today?’ Daisy’s shining curls caught the sunlight as she nodded zealously. ‘He’s come to take us back with him to see your grandmother.’
Daisy looked quickly across at the dog, which hadn’t come running up to this disapproving stranger as he had the last time, but was keeping at a very safe distance today. ‘And Shadow?’
‘And Shadow,’ Sienna echoed firmly, with a challenging lift of her chin towards Niall’s brother. So he didn’t like her dog? Well, too bad! Perhaps if she was lucky she could get Shadow to slobber all over him and shed hairs over the back seat of his stupendously expensive car!
‘What about Hippo? Can I take him too?’
‘Of course you can,’ Sienna said warmly. Slicing a glance down at Conan’s gleaming black hair, she wondered what he was thinking when his interest shifted from his niece to the rather worn and faded toy she was clutching.
Had he remembered he had bought it, for Daisy’s first birthday? she wondered. And that with it he had brought a remarkably expensive bottle of champagne? A gift for her and Niall because it was their second wedding anniversary. Niall had telephoned only minutes before and apologised for not being able to get home early as promised for Daisy’s birthday, without a word about their own celebration. She recalled feeling stupidly hurt, thinking how strange it was that Conan had remembered when his brother hadn’t. But then Niall had had a lot on his mind, had been working hard for his little family. And he’d fallen over himself with remorse when he had come home just after midnight and seen the bottle of champagne that Conan had left. He’d made it up to her the next day with chocolates and flowers, promising never—ever—to forget again …
Battling with the turmoil of emotions going on inside her, she saw Conan’s mouth compress in brief recognition of the gift he had given his niece. But then his hands dropped away from the little girl and, getting to his feet again, towering above them both, he said with a coldness that seemed to leave him untouched, ‘Well? Are we ready to go?’
CHAPTER THREE
FROM luxury saloon to private jet, to the equally luxurious chauffeur-driven car that had been waiting for them at the airport, the journey to Provence had been as smooth and as hassle-free as only the journeys of men as mega-rich as Conan Ryder could be. A discreet cabin crew had catered for their every need while Conan worked on his laptop in a separate compartment of the plane, keeping Sienna topped up with refreshments and occupying Daisy with games and the odd edible treat. Even Shadow had slept most of the way, in the large, comfortable carrier provided for the purpose, oblivious to the fact that he was being whisked thousands of feet up over a glittering body of water, and down across vast swathes of unfenced and sunlit fields.
Now, with the concrete and the crowds of the bustling mainland coast behind them, they were travelling across wild and isolated land jutting out into a sparkling sea.
It was another world, Sienna thought, gazing at the tall pine trees that defined the landscape and concealed exclusive