Revenge By Seduction. Alex Ryder

conversation…the discreet clink of bottles against wine glasses…the plush Victorian decor…

      Suddenly there he was, resplendent in dinner jacket, just as she’d imagined. He rose to his feet with a welcoming smile. ‘Catriona.’ He looked her over with approval. ‘You look stunning in that dress!’

      ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, glowing inwardly at the compliment. Encouraged by his reaction, she smiled as she sat down. ‘I’m glad you like it. It was a problem making up my mind what to wear. I only decided on this at the last moment.’ Oh, you wicked little liar! she thought. She could hardly believe she’d said that.

      The waiter handed her a menu but she brushed it aside. ‘I’ll leave the choice to you, Ryan. What would you recommend?’

      His mouth twitched in humorous acknowledgement of her faith in his judgement and he said promptly, ‘Duck in orange sauce. It’s the chef’s speciality.’ When the waiter had gone with the order he continued, ‘I took the liberty of ordering a decent wine before you arrived. If it’s too dry for your liking I’ll have them bring something else.’

      She wouldn’t have cared if it was cold bathwater, she thought as she watched him pour a glass. Raising it to her mouth, she took a delicate sip, savoured it for a moment, then nodded and dabbed daintily at her lips with her napkin. ‘Very nice,’ she murmured. ‘Just the way I like it.’ Would you just listen to her? She, who wouldn’t know the difference between claret and cooking sherry!

      She took comfort from the fact that she wasn’t really deceiving him. It was just that since she’d accepted his invitation she was obligated to see that she didn’t spoil his evening. She had to make an effort to make herself sound agreeable and interesting. And it was working! She could tell by the way those eyes of his seldom left her face.

      There was one sticky moment, when he asked her whereabouts in Scotland her parents lived.

      ‘Oh, you’ll never have heard of it,’ she said casually. ‘It’s called Kindarroch. In the Western Highlands. Nothing much goes on up there.’

      ‘And that’s why you decided to come and live in London?’ he suggested with an understanding smile. ‘You certainly don’t look like one of the hunting, shooting and fishing set. I somehow can’t see you tramping over the estate in gumboots with the Labrador at your heels.’

      Estate, she thought? Who’d mentioned anything about an estate? Still, if he wanted to believe that she was one of the minor Scottish aristocracy that was fine by her. When they got to know each other better they’d laugh about it together. But it only went to prove that she seemed to have ‘style’ after all.

      He had lovely hands, she thought as she watched him refill her glass. Well-formed and well-manicured, sensitive, yet strong and competent-looking. He had a thick gold ring set with a ruby on his little finger.

      There was something else she was beginning to notice about him, and that was the aura of power and unspoken authority evident in the relaxed way he conducted himself. His mere presence seemed to dominate the room. The hovering waiters were always ready with a fresh bottle or a clean napkin at his slightest gesture. And she doubted if there was a woman in the place who didn’t keep glancing towards him.

      Looking back on it now, she still wasn’t clear how she’d ended up back in his hotel suite. It was true that the wine had gone to her head, but she remembered agreeing enthusiastically with him when he’d said that the night was still young and that it would be a pity to end their new-found friendship when the meal was over. It had been words to that effect, anyway, but the undeniable fact was that she had been out of her depth and completely under his spell. She’d been captivated…enthralled…enraptured… And the thought of the consequences had never entered her head.

      It had only been when they were in his spacious, luxurious lounge, and he’d removed his jacket and tie and invited her to kick off her shoes and make herself comfortable, that she’d had the first stirrings of doubt about the situation she’d landed herself in.

      Well, it was too late now, wasn’t it? she’d thought. And, anyway, the man was a gentleman—anyone could see that. If he became over-amorous she would make it quite clear to him that she wasn’t that kind of girl and he wouldn’t push the matter. He’d probably respect her all the more, wouldn’t he?

      As he’d poured a couple of drinks at the built-in bar he’d pressed a remote control. The lights had dimmed and soft music came from hidden speakers. Looking around, she hadn’t failed to be impressed by the size and sheer luxury of the place.

      ‘Do you always stay in hotels like this?’ she asked with a frown. ‘It must be terribly expensive. Wouldn’t it be cheaper to have a flat of your own?’

      ‘Cheaper, yes,’ he agreed. ‘But not nearly so convenient.’ He handed her a glass, then raised his hand to stroke and feel the soft texture of her hair. ‘A man only needs a house if he feels the desire to put down roots, Catriona. But that only happens if he’s lucky enough to find a very special woman. Some woman to share his life and his dreams of raising a family.’

      The backs of his fingers were lightly brushing the soft, tender skin of her neck and the glass trembled in her hand. ‘I…I’m sure you will, Ryan,’ she said with the breath catching in her throat. She suddenly needed to sit down…badly…but his eyes were holding her with an enervating magnetism.

      ‘Yes…’ he breathed softly. ‘Perhaps I already have, Catriona. I was giving up hope until now.’

      ‘W-were you?’

      ‘Why do you think I asked you about the flats in Palmerston Court?’

      She gulped. ‘As…as an investment, you said…’

      He smiled at her innocence. ‘Let’s just say that the instant fate thrust you into my arms I knew my dreams hadn’t been in vain.’ He gently removed the drink from her shaking hand and placed it beside his own on the coffee table, then he took her by the shoulders and looked down into the depths of her wide blue eyes.

      Her mind was a chaotic mess of emotions. Was he truly telling her that she was that ‘special’ woman? Well, why not? Love at first sight was a fact of life, wasn’t it? It might be the stuff of romantic dreams and fairy tales but it did happen. It had happened to her, so why shouldn’t it happen to him? Those impossibly clear and luminous grey eyes were filling her vision now, and all sense of critical judgement was swamped by her desire to believe him.

      His voice was suddenly low and husky with desire. ‘You’re a very beautiful woman, Catriona. I’ve never seen lips that look so kissable and tempting as yours. They have the power to drive a man into mad impulsiveness.’

      His arms pulled her closer until she was crushed against him, so hard she could feel the strong, steady and relentless beat in his chest, then her own heart skipped and began to race as his mouth slowly descended on hers. The contact of warm, sweet and yielding flesh drove every thought from her mind and she abandoned herself to the thrill of his sensual provocation. A low moan bubbled in her throat as his tongue parted her lips, exposing her to a hitherto unknown and unguessed at height of passion.

      The kiss left her dazed and breathless, and she rested her head against his shoulder, seeking time to recover. He kept holding her in the imprisoning embrace of his arms, then he began nuzzling at her ear with his lips.

      In a hoarse whisper he said, ‘I’d be less than a man if I didn’t confess and tell you that there is nothing in this world I want more than to make love to you, darling. No woman has ever made me feel this way before. You have a beauty I can’t resist. I want to make wonderful love to you, Catriona. I want to give you all I have to offer. We can give each other so much pleasure and happiness. I want to possess you and never, ever let you go.’

      She closed her eyes tightly and bit down on her already swollen lip. How could she reject that passionate plea from the heart or ignore the promise in his words? Could she allow her old-fashioned conscience to stand in the way of an honestly declared love?

      The choice was