Penny Jordan Tribute Collection. PENNY JORDAN
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belonged to a band of wreckers!’
Wreckers. Well, that no doubt accounted for his colouring, and for that sharp air of danger and recklessness about him, Petra reasoned, remembering that Cornish wreckers were supposed to have pillaged galleons from the defeated Spanish Armada, taking from them not just gold but the high-born Spanish women who were sailing on them with their husbands as well.
Blaize. It suited him somehow. Blaize.
‘So now that we’ve got the civilities out of the way, perhaps we can turn our attention to some practicalities. This plan of yours—’
‘I don’t want to discuss it now,’ Petra interrupted him. ‘Please get dressed and leave…’
She was beginning to feel increasingly uncomfortable, increasingly agitated and aware of the effect his virtual nudity was having on her!
‘What’s wrong?’ he questioned her sharply. ‘Have you changed your mind? Has your family perhaps managed to persuade you to consider this man they have chosen for you after all? After all, there are worse things to be endured than marriage to a very wealthy man…’
‘Not so far as I am concerned,’ Petra told him sharply. ‘I can’t imagine anything worse than… than a loveless marriage,’ she told him passionately.
‘Have you ever been in love?’ he questioned her, answering his own question as he said softly, ‘No, of course you haven’t. Otherwise…’
There was a glint in his eyes that was making Petra’s heart beat far too fast. She was still in shock from discovering him in her room and, even worse, her senses were still reacting to the totally relaxed and arrogant male way in which he was now lounging against the wall, arms folded across his chest, tightening the muscles in them in a way that for some reason refused to allow her to withdraw her fascinated female gaze from them.
‘Whether or not I have ever been in love has nothing whatsoever to do with our… our business arrangement,’ Petra reproved him sternly.
‘When are you supposed to be being introduced to Rashid?’
Petra frowned. ‘I… I don’t know! You see at the moment I’m not even supposed to know what my grandfather has planned. My aunt has dropped several discreet hints about Rashid, pretending that he is just a kind family friend who has offered to… to show me round the complex, but…’
When Blaize’s eyebrows rose, Petra explained defensively, ‘It seems that he doesn’t merely have a large financial interest in it, but that he helped design it as well. According to my aunt, he’s a trained architect.’
Petra wondered uncomfortably if Blaize could hear the slight breathlessness in her voice. If so she hoped he would assume it was because she was impressed by her would-be suitor’s academic qualifications rather than by the sight of Blaize’s own muscles!
‘When is he to show you around?’
Petra shrugged her shoulders.
‘I don’t know. According to my aunt, Rashid the Sheikh has been called away on business.’
‘And you are no doubt hoping that by the time he returns enough damage will have been done to your reputation to have him questioning your suitability to be his wife? Well, if that is to be achieved we should not waste any time,’ Blaize told her, without waiting for her response. ‘Tonight everyone who is anyone on the Zuran social scene will be out and about, looking to see and be seen, and the current in place for that is a restaurant here on this complex called The Venue. It has a Michelin-starred chef and boasts a separate music room where diners can dance. I think that you and I should make our first public appearance there tonight. Dress is formal, and there is a strict admissions policy, but as a guest of the hotel and a woman that won’t be a problem for you!’
‘It sounds expensive,’ Petra told him doubtfully.
‘It is,’ he agreed. ‘But surely that isn’t a problem? You did tell me that you are staying here at your family’s request, and as their guest, and since the cost of dining in the restaurant can be debited to your room—’
‘No! I couldn’t possibly do that,’ Petra denied immediately, unable to conceal either her distaste or her shock. But far from being contrite, Blaize merely looked amused.
‘Why ever not? You have to eat, don’t you?’
‘I have to eat, yes,’ Petra acknowledged. ‘But I can’t possibly expect my family to pay for…’
As she paused, struggling to find the right words to express her feelings, Blaize shrugged and told her bluntly, ‘Either you were serious about this plan of yours or it was just a childish impulse that you’re now regretting. In which case, you’re wasting my time as well as your own—’
‘I am serious,’ Petra interrupted him quickly.
‘Very well, then. We eat late here, so I shall meet you downstairs in the foyer at nine-thirty—unless of course you want me to come up to your room to collect you a little earlier, which would give us time to…’
‘No,’ Petra said firmly, her face burning as she saw the amused look he was giving her.
‘How very much the epitome of a nervous virgin you look and sound right now! Are you one?’
Her face burning even hotter, Petra told him fiercely, ‘You have no right to ask me that kind of question.’
Laughing softly, Blaize shook his head. ‘Who would have thought it? Now you have surprised me! A nervous virgin who wants to be considered openly sexually available. You really don’t want this marriage, do you?’
‘I’ve just told you I am not prepared to discuss my… my personal private life with you…’
‘Even though you expect me to publicly convince others that I am very much a part of that personal private life… very, very much a part of it?’ he said softly.
There was a look in his eyes that was making Petra’s insides quiver with tension and indignation. How dared he make fun of her? It occurred to her that somehow or other he had managed to turn their relationship around so that he was the one who was in control of what was happening rather than her. A presentiment shiver brushed over her skin, warning her that she might be in danger of getting herself involved in a situation that she ultimately could not control. But before she could analyse her fears properly the doorbell to her suite suddenly rang, the shrilling sound activating her inner alarm system and throwing her body into immediate anxiety.
‘It’s okay,’ Blaize informed her easily. ‘That will be Room Service. I ordered something to eat.’
‘You ordered…’ Petra stared at him, and then looked frantically towards the suite door as the bell rang again. ‘You can’t—’ she began, and then stopped, pink-cheeked, as she realised Blaize was laughing softly at her.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘I think that this is going to be fun. Have you any idea how tempting it is to really shock you, little Miss Prim?’
Still laughing, he leaned forward and cupped her face with his hand, brushing her unsuspecting mouth with his own before releasing her and disappearing into the bathroom just before the suite door opened and the meal he had ordered was brought in.
‘Panic over?’
Automatically Petra looked towards Blaize as he emerged from the bathroom, still wearing merely the towel, with an electric razor in one hand whilst he smoothed the skin of his newly shaved jaw with the other. Then she quickly looked away as her heart did a triple-flip before losing its balance and slamming heavily into her chest wall.
What on earth was the matter with her? So he was having a shave. So what?
So what? The voice of moral female indignation inside her retorted angrily; what he was doing was an act of deliberate male intimacy… shaving in her suite… in her bathroom…
‘Mmm.