The Millionaire's Revenge

by Cathy Williams

  Gabriel gritted his teeth together in frustration and watched as she kicked off her formal shoes so that she was now barefoot.

  ‘Let’s start with downstairs.’

  ‘I’ll just go and fetch some paper.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, is that really necessary, Laura?’ it’ll help me remember if I just jot down what you say.’ Their eyes clashed for a few seconds, and then she fled to the kitchen where she dug around until she managed to excavate a sheet of A4 paper and a pen.

  This was proving to be even harder than she could ever have dreamt in a million years. If she could have held onto her hostility. If he could just have done her the favour of remaining a one-dimensional cardboard cut-out—ex-lover with an axe to grind. But no, he had to turn things on their head, he had to be gentle and amusing one minute only to switch back into arrogant aggression.

  She returned to find him in the sitting room, staring around him. ‘I came here that last day to see your parents. Did you know that?’ Gabriel had not meant to utter a word about that fateful, humiliating episode, but now that he had he could see that he had shocked her.

  ‘You came here?’ She shook her head in bewilderment. Whatever for?’

  ‘To ask for your hand in marriage.’ His mouth twisted cynically and he continued to watch her face as it was suffused with colour. ‘Naturally I was thrown out on my ears.’

  ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘No. I did not expect your papa to confide that little titbit to you.’

  ‘He didn’t dislike you, Gabriel, he just thought...’

  ‘That his baby could do better?’

  ‘Isn’t that what all fathers think?’ Her eyes flashed sud­denly, if you had a young daughter and the situation was the same, wouldn’t you have reacted in exactly the same way?’

  ‘Naturally not,’ Gabriel said shortly, but her retort had him turning away. ‘Anyway, it is all water under the bridge. For the moment, we have other things to talk about.’

  ‘You’re the one who raised the subject.’ it’s history. Tell me what you suggest for this room. I find it too dark and depressing.’

  ‘It’s your house,’ Laura said stubbornly, and he shot her a glowering look from under his lashes.

  ‘And I am ordering you to tell me what you think.’

  I like greens,’ she said finally, when the option was either to say what she thought or remain locked in silence, which she knew he had no intention of breaking. ‘And creams. Autumnal colours. Mum liked all this floral stuff and when she became, well, really ill, she said it cheered her up to look at the flowers on the walls.’ Laura’s mouth trembled and she frowned down at the piece of paper in her hand.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  She had barely noticed how close he had come to her. He filled her nostrils with his masculine scent.

  ‘You can cry, querida. Tears are nothing to be ashamed of.’

  ‘Of course I’m not going to cry.’ She shook her head briskly and looked up at him. It was the gentle compassion in his eyes that did it. She blinked and felt the hot sting of tears begin to seep from under her eyelids, and suddenly his arms were around her, pulling her towards him.

  Laura allowed herself to be folded against his broad chest. She hooked her arms around his waist and he seemed to just wrap himself around her, one hand on her back, the other pressed against the side of her head, whilst his fingers weaved through her hair. She could hear him making soothing noises under his breath, which only made matters worse because the oozing of her tears became more of a torrent until her body was shaking from crying.

  Eventually, she edged herself away, only conscious now of how closely their bodies had been entwined, and raised her eyes to his.

  ‘I’m very sorry. Not very professional.’ She tried to give a self-deprecating laugh, which emerged as a croak of sorts.

  ‘Here.’ He reached into his pocket and handed her a handkerchief, which Laura gratefully accepted, but he con­tinued holding her tightly against him. It felt good. Better than good, he thought.

  ‘I’m fine now,’ she said in a more normal voice.

  ‘Sure?’ Gabriel tilted her face with one finger under her chin and then softly brushed away the remainder of damp­ness on her cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

  ‘Sure. Thanks for the hankie. I’ll wash it and return it to you.’ She had to remove herself from this clinch. Her breasts were pushed against his chest and, now that she was no longer sobbing like a maiden in distress, she was all too aware of them reacting with perky vigour to his body. As was the rest of her. Where his fingers had traced her cheekbones, her skin burned. She wanted to just tiptoe and capture that beautiful, arrogant mouth with hers. She wanted to close her eyes and lose herself in him.

  She made a concerted effort to draw back and suc­ceeded.

  ‘I’m not sure what came over me,’ she apologised with a watery smile.

  ‘Memories,’ Gabriel said gruffly, sticking his hands into his pockets. A perfect opportunity missed, he thought re­gretfully. He was definitely losing his touch. He had had her there, in his arms, as vulnerable as a newborn babe and, instead of seizing the opportunity, he had played the understanding gentleman, had wanted to play the under­standing gentleman. He wondered whether years of being the object of pursuit had dulled his talent for the chase.

  ‘The room could certainly do with an overhaul, though,’ Laura said, moving away. ‘What would you like to see here? I...’ She sighed and frowned. ‘The furniture will look odd if the room is done up around it. Old-fashioned.’

  ‘Then sell it, Laura. Put the proceeds into your bank account.’

  For when I’m thrown off the premises, she thought. Be­cause she had no doubt that off the premises was exactly where she was heading, despite all his talk about treating his house as hers. Nor would she allow three seconds of sympathy to get to her and make her forget that their re­lationship now was just precisely what she had told him, namely a business arrangement.

  Her eyes skittered across to him and she licked her lips.

  ‘Why don’t I just leave you in charge of the decorating?’ he suggested.

  ‘Because I don’t know the first thing about interior de­sign. And I wouldn’t feel comfortable ...taking charge of somewhere that’s not my own.’

  ‘Oh, God. Here we go again.’

  ‘No, really, Gabriel. I’m not about to start...’

  ‘Reminding me that I’m the big, bad wolf who has de­rived you of your family home?’

  Instead of rushing headlong into defending her position, Laura smiled sheepishly. ‘Right. What I’m saying is that I’m not exactly ...you know, the height of fashion...’ She could feel every word turning into a tongue-twister as he stood stock-still and regarded her with that dark, disturb­ingly penetrating look of his that made her toes curl.

  ‘The height of fashion...? What has fashion got to do with anything?’

  ‘A lot. It has a lot to do with ...I mean, Gabriel, look at you and look at me.’ He duly cast his eyes down his body then ran his eyes over hers, paying a lot more attention to every inch of her. When he finally met her eyes, she was blushing furiously.

  ‘Yes, there are some obvious differences but I would put those down to gender.’ He raised one eyebrow in amusement and Laura remained staunchly unmoved by the provocatively inviting glitter in his eyes.

  ‘You want the best. It’s obvious from the way you dress, Gabriel. I ...I’ve led an outdoor life and never had much time for how I looked.’

  ‘Where are we going with this one?’

  I don’t know anything about furnishing a house to the sort of standard a man like you would expect!’

  ‘A man like me...’ Gabriel mused coolly. ‘You forget that I did not always possess this wealth.’

  ‘And now you do,’ Laura persisted stubbornly, and I’m sure you would want furnishings that reflect your ...your status.’

  ‘Oh, naturally,’ he mocked, I could not possibly want somewhere comfortable
and soothing when I could have something very expensive and probably very ostentatious. I do not intend to make this a permanent base, but when I do come here, I assure you I will not be looking to sur­round myself with heavy velvet drapes and silk on the walls. Nor will I want the taps to be gold-plated.’

  ‘Why do you always have to jump to the other ex­treme?’

  ‘Why do you always have to pigeon-hole? If you do not feel confident about decorating this place, then feel free to hire an interior designer.’ He shrugged, as if suddenly bored by the conversation. He didn’t want to be here dis­cussing wall colours and furniture requirements, he thought suddenly. As long as they continued trawling from room to room with Laura clutching that stupid sheet of paper, they would remain on opposite sides of an insur­mountable wall. He, the boss in charge, she the employee who had been bailed out. And it didn’t matter one jot if her eyes kept sliding over to him of their own accord. She would keep her instincts at bay and listen to her head. ‘Is that what you did with your own house? Hired an interior designer?’

  ‘I have no time to sit in shops poring over wallpaper books and shopping for little artefacts. I gave my designer free rein and she did the rest.’

  ‘And you like it?’

  ‘Of course I like it! If you want, I could give you her number and she could do the same here.’

  The thought of someone striding through the rooms, casting a baleful eye over the furnishings and then replac­ing the lot with expensive equivalents made her blood run cold. Or maybe she just had an economical streak.

  ‘I’ll do what I can,’ she conceded, ‘but don’t blame me if you disagree with my tastes.’ He inclined his head in a nod. ‘And when it comes to choosing bigger things, then you’ll have to find the time to pick them yourself.’ Another nod. ‘Good.’

  ‘So that’s settled?’

  ‘For the moment.’

  ‘Then why don’t we leave here and do something al­together more productive ...and enjoyable?’

  His restlessness had evaporated. He felt invigorated. The house had been closing him in, closing them both in with its reminder of their reversed fortunes. What better solution than to go outside and leave its depressing presence be­hind? And what better way to voice the suggestion than in words of such blatant ambiguity that she could do nothing but flush at the latent connotations?

  ‘What did you have in mind?’ Laura asked warily.

  ‘Well ...the sun is shining. And I hanker to ride Barnabus again ...I haven’t ridden in months, not since I was in Argentina. Is he still as fiery as he once was?’

  ‘You want to go riding’?’ Laura squeaked.

  ‘Outrageous, I agree, but, yes, I do. For one thing, it’s a waste to be inside when we can be outside and for an­other, I could use the opportunity to see the land and try and work out what needs doing.’

  ‘Oh. Yes. Of course.’ She glanced down at her clothes. ‘I’ll just go and get changed, shall I?’

  A perfectly sensible suggestion, she told herself as she hurriedly shoved on a pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt. It was bright but breezy and very concealing. So why then did she feel just a little bit apprehensive? She couldn’t keep the past totally locked away, could she?

  He was waiting at the foot of the stairs for her, and he made damned sure that he gave her only a cursory glance.

  ‘You’re not really in the right gear,’ Laura informed him, en route to the stables.

  I didn’t think that I would end up on a horse or else I would have dressed differently.’

  ‘You mean you have scruffy clothes?’

  ‘Tut-tut. There you go. Pigeon-holing again.’ But his voice was lazily amused. ‘And for your information, I hap­pen to have quite a lot of scruffy clothes hanging in my wardrobe.’

  ‘Oh, really.’ The sun, the ease of his conversation, the faint buzzing of the bees in the background, made her feel relaxed. ‘Shabby jeans and faded tee shirts?’

  ‘Absolutely. The shabbier and more faded, the better.’

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed, pushing open the sta­ble door and expertly getting Barnabus ready before lead­ing him out into the courtyard.

  ‘Do you want me to come riding with you?’ she asked, suddenly realising that she had expected to but that he might want to ride on his own. A lot of people preferred the peace of solitude rather than riding with someone else and having to make conversation.

  ‘I would not go otherwise. Saddle up one of the others.’

  ‘Old Lily won’t be able to keep up with Barnabus,’ Laura warned him, watching greedily as he stroked the horse, speaking to it in those low, soothing tones that sounded like waves lapping against the shore, getting it to trust him before he mounted.

  She hurried off and was returning with her own horse just in time to see Gabriel mount Barnabus, his every move solid and confident and exquisitely graceful. Whatever gripes her father had had over Gabriel, he had never been able to deny that Gabriel was good with horses. Better than good. He seemed to belong on them.

  Laura stood, riveted, as he settled onto Barnabus’s back, the reins lightly held in one hand whilst he stroked the horse’s mane with the other.

  ‘Are you going to mount or are you going to stare at me for the rest of the day?’

  His laconic question, when she hadn’t been aware that he had been so much as looking in her direction, jerked her back to reality and she mounted her own horse with alacrity, pressing her knees firmly on either side to urge it forward.

  ‘Ready?’ He grinned with infuriating amusement. Her gut feeling was to launch into a lecture on the size of his ego, which had encouraged him to hallucinate that she had been watching him when in fact her thoughts had been a million miles away, but since it would have been patently untrue she contented herself with tugging the rein in her hand and nodding.

  ‘Shall we skirt the boundary fence to the left and follow it round to that oak tree? The oak tree is still there, I take it?’ He wondered if he could concentrate on anything as banal as fencing when this woman was riding alongside him. Lord, but she looked beautiful. The sun captured the fairness of her hair until it seemed to dazzle the eyes and her body looked alive on the back of her horse, every muscle firm and toned. Quintessentially the very opposite to every woman he had dated since he had loved and lost her.

  Ah, but he hadn’t lost her, had he? he reminded himself silkily. Because here she was, the wind blowing back her hair, her body slightly arched as she galloped at a steady speed alongside him. Sexy in the way only a totally natural woman could be sexy and soon to be his until such time as he no longer considered her a lost love, simply someone else he would have slept with along the way.

  ‘The fencing is in a bit of a state,’ Laura told him, point­ing out the obvious as they both slowed to a trot to inspect it. She had worked up a sweat riding and now shoved up the sleeves of the jumper. ‘Dad looked after it when we still had horses but over the years he only managed to keep up rudimentary repairs.’ She turned to face him. I must have been a complete idiot not to have noticed what was going on.’

  ‘We all make mistakes.’

  Was it her imagination or did she detect something else behind that throwaway remark? Was he referring to her? A past mistake he had once made?

  ‘Shall we continue?’ she asked tightly, and he nodded as he shrewdly assessed the extensive repair work that would have to be undertaken.

  They circled the huge area. There were entire tracts of fencing that had rotted over time. The money that should have been used to fix them redirected into betting and al­cohol. When Gabriel thought about it, he could feel a mur­derous urge towards Peter Jackson, but aligned to that was a certain sympathy that he neither invited nor welcomed. The man must have been distraught to have let the whole lot go. The riding stables had been his life.

  By the time they finally reached the oak tree he had seen enough to have a pretty good idea of the state of the rest.

  He dismounted, tethered his horse,
thereby ensuring that she did the same, and then sat down at the base of the tree, his legs drawn up, his arms resting loosely on his knees.

  ‘Your trousers will be filthy when you get up,’ Laura remarked, smugly aware that she was far more appropri­ately dressed.

  ‘Sit down by me,’ Gabriel commanded lazily. ‘We need to talk about how we’re going to approach the job of up­grading the land.’ Which, he reckoned, should take about ten minutes. And after that...? He intended to stick to his plans for seduction and not be distracted by the buzzing inner voices that kept holding him back. He looked at her from under his lashes as she slowly walked towards him. He noted the unconscious elegance of her gait, the way she held her body like a dancer, utterly indifferent to how other people regarded her.

  ‘It’s been impossible trying to do anything about it,’ Laura said apologetically. ‘Since Dad died, I seem to have spent all my time in a nightmare of trying to work out finances.’ She sighed and Gabriel made an angry noise under his breath.

  ‘God, didn’t the man have any idea what this would do to you? Leaving you in a situation like that?’

  ‘He never thought he would just ...I guess he thought that he would have time to get things back on track and so I would be spared the worry.’ She looked down at the fields sprawled in front of them. From a distance, it all looked perfect. It was only when you got closer that you could see the signs of decay. It was the same for the house and the stables. ‘You don’t have to tell me that it’s a far cry from how things used to be around here seven years ago.’

  ‘I was not about to tell you any such thing.’ He got up, brushing himself down, only to reposition himself on the grass, lying on it with his hands folded behind his head and his long legs crossed at the ankles.

  ‘Shouldn’t we be heading back now?’

  ‘Oh, I think I’ll enjoy this sun for a bit longer. Of course, you are free to head back whenever you want.’ It was a gamble, but he didn’t want her in any way to feel that she had been manipulated. Nevertheless, his body seemed to twist into several thousand knots in the few seconds of silence during which she decided what to do. If she got up and rode back to the house, then he would be forced to stay, at least for a short while and, whilst the scenery was enchanting, its appeal would vanish like a puff of smoke if she weren’t here to enhance it.