Her Exquisite Surrender. Lucy Ellis
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married.’
Natalie frowned as she looked at him. ‘I hope people don’t think I’m marrying you for your money.’
His lips lifted in the slightest of smiles. ‘No, cara, they’ll think it’s my body you are after.’
She turned away to stare at the passing scenery, her lower body flickering with a pulse she had thought long ago quelled. ‘I’m not going to sleep with you, Angelo,’ she said.
‘Are you saying that to convince me or yourself?’ he asked.
Natalie couldn’t have answered either way, so she changed the subject. ‘Have you really got an engagement ring?’ she asked.
‘I have.’
‘Do you not think I might have liked to choose it for myself?’
He threw her an exasperated look. ‘In my family it’s traditional for the man to choose the engagement ring,’ he said.
She toyed with the catch on her purse for a moment or two. ‘It’s not the same one you bought five years ago, is it?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he said.
She sneaked a glance at him but his expression was inscrutable. ‘Did you give it to someone else?’ she asked. ‘As a present or something?’
He brought the car to a standstill outside her house before he answered. ‘I donated it to a charity for their silent auction,’ he said. ‘There’s some lucky girl out there now wearing a ring that cost more than most people’s houses.’
Natalie chewed at the inside of her mouth. ‘I never asked you to spend that amount of money on me.’
His swung his gaze to hers. ‘No, you didn’t, did you?’ he said. ‘But then it wasn’t money you wanted from me, was it?’
She couldn’t hold his look. ‘I’ve seen what money can do to people,’ she said. ‘It changes them, and not always for the good.’
She felt his gaze studying her for endless seconds. ‘What have you told your parents about us?’ he asked.
She pressed her lips together. ‘Not much.’
‘How much?’
She looked at him again. ‘It was my mother’s idea for me to come and see you,’ she said. ‘I only did it for her sake.’
‘And Lachlan’s, presumably?’
Her eyes fell away from his. ‘Yes …’
The silence stretched interminably.
‘Are you going to ask me in?’ he asked.
She gave him a pert look. ‘Are you going to come in even if I don’t?’
He brushed an idle finger down the curve of her cheek, his eyes focussed on her mouth, his lips curved upwards in a half-smile. ‘If you don’t want me then all you have to do is say so.’
I do want you.
The words were like drumbeats inside her head.
I want you. I want you. I want you.
She locked out that traitorous voice and pasted an indifferent look on her face. ‘Are you staying in town overnight?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I was hoping you’d offer me a bed for the night.’
Natalie felt her heart give a hard, sharp kick. ‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because … Because …’
‘The press will think it odd if I don’t stay with you,’ he said, before she could think of an excuse. ‘I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but a car followed us back here. It’s parked behind the red car.’
She checked in the side mirror. There was a man sitting behind the wheel with a camera’s telephoto lens trained in their direction. Panic gripped her by the throat. Was this how it was going to be? Would she be hounded like a terrified fox with nowhere to hide?
Angelo opened his door and came around to where she was sitting, frozen in dread.
‘He’ll move on once we’re inside,’ he said. ‘Just try to act naturally.’
Natalie got out of the car and allowed him to take her hand. She felt the strong grip of his fingers as they curled around hers. It was the same feeling she’d had when he had put his arm around her waist earlier.
She felt protected.
‘Give me your keys,’ he said.
She handed them over. ‘It’s the big brass one,’ she said.
He unlocked the door and held it open for her to pass through. ‘How long have you lived here?’ he asked as he closed the door.
‘Three and a half years.’
‘Why Scotland? I thought you said you grew up in Gloucestershire?’
‘My mother is a Scot,’ she said. ‘She grew up in the seaside village of Crail in Fife. I spent a lot of holidays there with my grandparents when I was young.’
‘You didn’t tell me that before.’
She gave a shrug as she placed her purse on the hall table. ‘It didn’t seem important.’
‘What else didn’t you tell me that didn’t seem important?’
Natalie turned away from his probing look. ‘Do you want a drink or something?’
He stalled her by placing a hand on her arm. ‘Tatty?’
She looked down at his hand. How dark and masculine it looked against her paler skin. It dredged up memories she didn’t want to resurface. She felt the rumble of them like tectonic plates rubbing against each other. An earthquake of sensation threatened to spill out like lava. She felt the heat of it bubbling like a furnace inside her.
‘I asked you not to call me that,’ she said.
His hand moved along her arm in a gentle caress. ‘I don’t always do what I’m told,’ he said. ‘I like bending the rules to suit me.’
Natalie tried to pull away but his fingers subtly tightened. She met his gaze—so dark and mesmerising—so in control. He knew he had her where he wanted her. She was at his mercy. Lachlan’s freedom and future depended on her. Angelo knew she would not do anything to jeopardise it. Her little temper tantrum back at the restaurant had achieved nothing. He would always come after her and remind her of what was at stake.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked. ‘You must know how it’s going to end.’
His hooded gaze drifted to her mouth. ‘I don’t care how it ends,’ he said. ‘This is about the here and now.’
She looked at his mouth. Oh, how she wanted to feel those firm lips move against hers! She remembered the heat; she remembered the blistering passion that burned like a taper all over her flesh. She remembered the sexy thrust of his tongue as it came in search of hers.
Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the breeze of his breath skate over her lips. He lowered his mouth to just above hers. She swept her tongue over her lips, wanting him, aching for him to make the first move.
‘Go on,’ he said, in a low, husky, spine-melting tone. ‘I know you want to.’
Natalie’s stomach shifted like a speeding skater suddenly facing a sheet of broken ice. Could he read her so well even after all this time? She fought for composure, for self-control, for anything.
‘You’re mistaken,’ she said coolly. ‘I don’t want any such thing.’
He brushed a finger