Velvet Promise. Carole Mortimer

      Velvet Promise

      Carole Mortimer

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       Copyright

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘DANI, I don’t think——’ Willow’s laughing refusal to let her four-year-old daughter sample her wine came to an abrupt halt as she found her gaze drawn and held by the man just entering the dining-room, the hand she had raised to prevent Dani lifting the glass to her mischievously quirked mouth faltering and falling, the colour draining from her finely etched cheeks.

      Jordan St James. She had known a member of the family would call on her sooner or later—after all, that was the reason she had informed them of her visit in the first place. But they had only arrived this afternoon from London, and she had expected a little more time to settle in to the hotel and reacquaint herself with Jersey, the largest of the Channel Islands, before having to confront any of Russell’s family. She should have known that the arrogant man rapidly approaching their table wouldn’t wait for her to go to them!

      ‘Oh, Mummy, it’s—ugh!’ Dani began to choke as the wine she had sipped in that moment of her mother’s preoccupation hit the back of her throat, her pretty face suffused with colour, her eyes beginning to water. ‘Mummy!’ she protested, blinking rapidly as her throat seemed to be on fire.

      ‘Darling, I asked you not to.’ Willow took the glass out of the tiny hand next to hers as it wobbled precariously, patting her daughter gently on the back as the alcohol took her breath away.

      ‘What seems to be the trouble?’ enquired the silky voice that Willow recognised all too well.

      She only half-turned to acknowledge Jordan’s presence beside their table, just the brief glimpse she had had of him as he entered the room was enough to convince her he was as imposing as ever, the darkness of his hair gleaming ebony in the light given off by the overhead chandeliers. He had been too far away at the time for her to see the brown velvet of his eyes, but she did know their velvety softness was a deception, that this man was capable of verbally ripping a person to shreds while his eyes maintained their brown velvet warmth.

      ‘She’s all right now,’ Willow dismissed his concern, handing Dani a glass of water to wash away the taste she was now proclaiming as ‘awful’. ‘I did try to warn you, Dani.’ Her voice softened noticeably as she spoke to her daughter, smoothing back the swathe of silky blonde hair from a face that was still flushed.

      Dani screwed up her face. ‘Are you feeling ill too, Mummy?’

      She gave a puzzled frown. ‘What makes you ask that?’

      Her daughter grimaced. ‘Because the wine tastes like medicine!’

      Willow held back her smile with effort, although she doubted Jordan St James found the remark as amusing; he rarely seemed to smile, and she had never seen him laugh. ‘I should stick to lemonade until you’re as old as Mummy,’ she advised gravely. ‘Then the wine won’t taste like medicine.’

      Now that her choking fit seemed to be over Dani was taking an interest in the tall, dark man who stood beside their table, oblivious to the curious looks he was receiving from the other guests who had chosen to eat in the relaxed elegance of the hotel restaurant. But that was typical of the Jordan she remembered; he had so much arrogant self-confidence she didn’t think he noticed other people’s reaction to him most of the time. The hovering waiters were certainly aware of the prestigious identity of her visitor.

      Dani looked up at him with candid green eyes. ‘You look like the photographs of my daddy,’ she stated quizzically.

      Willow gave a start of surprise, turning to look fully at Jordan for the first time. Maybe he and Russell were a little alike: both very tall and dark, their facial characteristics slightly similar, although considering their relationship that wasn’t so surprising. But the similarity was only slight; Russell was a much weaker version of Jordan St James visually, not quite as tall, nor as muscular, his face possessing none of the strength of character stamped so markedly on the other man’s, although for sheer fashionable handsomeness most women would probably consider Russell the more attractive of the two, Jordan’s features being ruggedly harsh rather than classically handsome.

      Jordan smiled down at Dani, the dark eyes compelling. ‘That’s because he and I are cousins.’

      Looking as harshly forbidding as he did, Jordan’s voice should have been harsh too, but it was as velvety as his eyes, possessing a mesmerising quality that sent a shiver down Willow’s spine.

      ‘Really?’ Dani brightened at this disclosure. ‘Do you know——’

      ‘Ah, Barbara.’ Willow looked thankfully at the other woman who was now hovering behind Jordan trying to attract her attention. ‘Could you take Dani up to our suite for me now?’

      ‘Oh, Mummy, do I have to?’ her daughter predictably protested. ‘I’m not a bit tired and I——’

      ‘Danielle Stewart, you’ve done nothing but yawn since we got down here,’ she cajoled. ‘Now go along with Barbara. And behave yourself—we’re all tired and it’s been a long day.’

      ‘Do I have to?’ Dani wheedled again.

      Her expression softened at her daughters petulant face, a sure sign of tiredness in her usually sunny-faced daughter. ‘You have to,’ she told her firmly. ‘I’ll be up in a few minutes,’ she promised as Dani reluctantly stood up to join Barbara.

      She watched her daughter’s progress out of the dining-room, all the time conscious of Jordan’s ominous presence beside her. But as the animatedly talking Dani left the room at Barbara’s side she had no choice but to turn and face him. It wasn’t easy. ‘Won’t you join me?’ She extended a slender hand to the seat opposite her that Dani had just vacated.

      He gave an abrupt inclination of his head. ‘She’s very like you,’ he rasped as he folded his long length down into the chair.

      ‘Yes,’ she acknowledged curtly, sure that the whole of Russell’s family would have preferred it if Dani had looked nothing at all like the outsider who had dared to marry him.

      Jordan’s eyes narrowed at her resentment. ‘That wasn’t meant as a criticism.’

      ‘No?’ she scorned.

      ‘No. You’re a very beautiful woman,’ he stated in a flat voice.

      She knew that he wasn’t trying to be polite or insincere, that Jordan St James only said what he believed to be fact.

      When she had first met this man she had been a wide-eyed