Bride Of His Choice. Emma Darcy
did it for me?” She shook her head incredulously, unable to believe such altruism from a man who clearly calculated everything.
“We have more in common than you think,” he said wryly. “I was not the child of the man my mother was married to. I bear his name but I’m not his child, and I knew it very early on.”
Leigh was dumbfounded. There’d never been a whisper of anything scandalous in his background. Another private family secret? Then it burst upon her that he knew what it felt like…travelling the same road…and he’d seen it all along in her…a fellow traveller.
“The truth of such a situation is not easy to deal with and a name can become important,” he went on. “Your father’s name is Mario Vangelli. He and his family live in Naples. I can give you the address should you ever want to visit.”
Vangelli…Richard was right. It was good to have a name instead of a blank. “What about you?” She eyed him curiously. “Did you find your real father?”
“Yes. He was married to someone else. They had a family. He didn’t know I was his son and I didn’t tell him.” His expression hardened. “As with your father, it was just seed sown that he walked away from.”
Paid to walk away from in her case. “I wouldn’t feel right about visiting, but thank you for telling me about him, Richard. It is better knowing than not knowing.”
He nodded, an understanding in his eyes that shared the scars of being a bastard child who didn’t belong to the marriage of either parents.
“I might never have come back,” she mused. “You might have got that information for nothing, Richard.”
He shook his head. “Information is always useful.”
Cynicism returned in a swift bitter sweep. It was information he could have used against her mother, or Lawrence, for that matter. “Of course,” she drawled. “Knowledge is power.”
“And you were always going to come back,” he continued without so much as a ripple in his cast-iron confidence. “When you felt ready to.”
“Lucky for you it was now or you would have had no choice but to propose to one of my sisters,” she mocked.
“Luck has nothing to do with it. If you hadn’t come I would have gone to you.”
Her heart contracted. He really did want her above the others. “You would have had to track me down,” she pointed out.
“I’ve kept track of you all along, Leigh. As soon as I knew you had gone, I acted to ensure you were safe, and stayed safe, wherever you went and whatever you did. There wasn’t one day of these past six years that I haven’t known where you were, and been assured you were managing by yourself. I knew what flight you took out of Broome, where you stayed in Perth, and what time you arrived in Sydney last night. And I knew you would be here today.”
It shook her, more than any of the previous shocks he’d delivered. Or perhaps it was the culminating effect of all of them. “You had someone spying on me?”
“No, not spying. Just checking that you were coping on your own, not in trouble, not in need of help. There was absolutely no interference in your life, Leigh, nor in whatever you chose to do.”
“Why did you do it?” she cried, still appalled at having been so comprehensively watched over.
It came again, that brief flash of something deep and dark and dangerous behind the crisp blue of his eyes. “Because I cared. And no one else did.” Even his voice carried a note of ferocity, suggestive of feelings he hadn’t quite kept under control.
Leigh tried to focus on it but Richard distracted her by moving closer, lifting a hand and touching her cheek, soft fingertips grazing her skin, raising electric tingles. “Think, Leigh,” he commanded, the powerful impact of his eyes increased by the knowledge he had of her. “You came, looking for some portion of justice…”
That was true.
“Marry me…and you’ll have what your mother sacrificed you for…what your sisters covet. You’ll have all that Lawrence denied you and more. What greater justice than to take what you were born for…”
Her head whirled with his words, all of them striking such painful places.
“I hand you the keys to the whole Durant empire, everything Lawrence acquired in his ruthless drive for power…”
To the exile, the spoils, she thought wildly.
“…and no one will scorn you again, Leigh, or treat you in a contemptible manner. As my wife, you will be my queen, in every sense.”
As long as I give you a son.
There was always a price for the pot of gold.
“I want you as my queen, Leigh.”
The low throb of his voice was like a drumbeat on her heart.
“Only you can satisfy me. Only you. We’re two of a kind, Leigh. You and I.”
And that mesmerising message blazed from his eyes as he moved closer, an arm sliding around her waist, taking possession, the hand on her face suddenly cupping her chin, holding it tilted, and she knew he was going to kiss her, knew he meant to seduce her to his will, but somehow she didn’t want to stop him.
Her entire being was quivering with anticipation.
CHAPTER FOUR
LEIGH held her breath at the first brush of his mouth on hers, the contact so tantalisingly gentle, it took all her concentration to absorb each shift of pleasurable sensation. It wasn’t a taking kiss. She would have fought it if he’d tried to blitz her with dominant strength. The relief of this controlled exploration allowed her to relax and let the urge to know flow freely.
She had blocked him out all these years, coupling him with Lawrence Durant, yet today she had been forcefully reminded that her hatred of Richard had been fed from the fierce wish for him to act differently. To her teenage mind he’d had the strength to fight her father, to stand up for her, to be her champion, and he hadn’t done it. Not how she’d wanted it done, not enough to satisfy the bitter churning of needs inside her.
Could he give her satisfaction now?
Would he?
The feathery caresses teased her into responding, and no sooner had her lips softened and parted than the light pressures changed to a deeper searching, and she felt moving through her a great swell of yearning for the promise of everything…everything she’d ever wanted and could ever want.
Had the normal flow of such feelings been somehow locked up around Richard Seymour? Was this strange shifting inside herself the release of barriers that had been subconciously focused on needs he should have fulfilled?
Her mind and body were in such a whirl of inner chaos, she wasn’t aware of lifting her arms. The instinct to press closer, to hold on to this moment of reckoning, to see it through as far as it went, swept her hands around his neck. His embrace instantly tightened, moulding her body to the hard length of his, and his mouth engaged hers in a far more passionate intimacy, stirring a sensual storm that spread like wildfire.
The heat of it banished the cold emptiness of being unloved and unwanted and ignited a hunger that craved everything she had missed out on. She revelled in the hungry ravishing of her mouth, exulted in every bit of the physical contact, the squashing of her breasts across the muscular breadth of his chest, the exciting pressure of his arousal, the straining of rock-hard thighs against hers. He did want her. It felt as though he was reaching out to her with every fibre of his being and the thrill of it was too enthralling to stop.
It was he who broke off the all-consuming flow of desire, suddenly throwing his head back, dragging in air, breathing so hard his chest heaved, bringing a rush of sensitivity to her breasts and stirring an intense frustration at the abrupt halt to what he’d started. She stared at him in confusion, seeing