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      PROLOGUE

      ‘SO YOU’RE going to go through with it? You’re going to go ahead and marry Dracco, even though he doesn’t love you?’

      Imogen flinched as the full venom of her stepmother Lisa’s words hit her. They were in Imogen’s bedroom, or at least the bedroom that had been Imogen’s until after her father’s death. Since then Lisa had declared her intention to sell the pretty country house where Imogen had grown up and to buy herself a modern apartment in the small market town where they lived.

      ‘Dracco has asked me to be on hand to help him entertain the clients,’ Lisa had said at the time of her shock announcement about the house. ‘He says he can see how much more business the company has been attracting since I became your father’s hostess. Unfortunately your mother never seemed to realise just how vitally important being a good hostess was.’

      She had given the openly dismissive, almost contemptuous shrug with which Imogen had become teeth-grittingly familiar whenever Lisa spoke about her late mother. Instinctively Imogen had wanted to leap to her mother’s defence, but she had sufficient experience of Lisa to know better than to do so. Even so, she had not been able to stop herself from pointing out quietly, ‘Mummy was ill. Otherwise, I know she would have wanted to entertain Daddy’s clients for him.’

      ‘Oh, yes, we all know that you think your precious mother was a saint.’ Imogen had seen the furious look of hostility in Lisa’s hard blue eyes. ‘And Dracco agrees with me that you made life very difficult for your father all these years by constantly harping on about your mother, trying to make him feel guilty because he fell in love with me.’

      Lisa had preened herself openly, making Imogen’s stomach churn with sickening misery and anguish. Then her stepmother had continued triumphantly, ’Dracco considers that your father was very fortunate to be married to me. In fact…’ She had stopped, giving Imogen a small, secret little smile that had made her heart thump heavily against her ribs. It hurt, unbearably, to hear Lisa speaking about Dracco as though a special closeness existed between them, especially when Imogen was so desperately in love with him herself!

      Imogen had never truly been able to understand how her beloved father had fallen in love with a woman as cold and manipulative as Lisa. Granted, she was stunningly attractive: tall, blonde-haired, with a perfect and lushly curved body, totally unlike Imogen’s own. Imogen took after her mother, who had been petite and fine-boned with the same thick dark mop of untameable blackberry curls and amazingly coloured dark violet eyes. And, where Imogen remembered her mother’s eyes shining with warmth and love, Lisa’s pale blue eyes were always cold.

      Imogen had loved her father far too much, though, to say anything to him. Her mother had died when she was seven, and when he’d decided to remarry when she was fourteen Imogen had made up her mind to accept her new stepmother for his sake. She had adored her father and been fiercely protective of him, in her little-girl way, after her mother’s death, but she had been ready to welcome into their lives anyone who could make him happy.

      Lisa, though, had quickly made it plain that she was not prepared to be equally generous. She had been thirty-two when she married Imogen’s father, with no particular fondness for children and even less for other members of her own sex. Right from the start of their relationship she had treated the young girl as an adversary, a rival for Imogen’s father’s affections and loyalty.

      Lisa had been in their lives less than three months when she had told Imogen coolly that she considered it would be far better for her to go to boarding school than live at home and attend the local private school her mother had chosen before succumbing to the degenerative illness which had ultimately killed her. It had been Dracco who had stepped in then, reminding Imogen’s father that his first wife had hand-picked her daughter’s secondary school even when she knew she would not be alive to see Imogen attend it. It had been Dracco too who had come to that same school to break the news of her father’s fatal accident to Imogen, tears sheening the normally composed and unreadable jade depths of his eyes.

      That had been nearly twelve