Kate visibly tensed and turned into him. “We need to leave now.”
He loosely wrapped an arm around her waist. “Just as soon as I find the valet.”
Lightbulbs flashed so brightly that he had to shield his eyes with his free hand.
“Is there something going on?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, her eyes full of misery. “Me.”
“Kate! Kate! How does it feel to be jilted?”
Jilted? Oh hell. The wedding. She’d been upset because of the groom. Damn Romanovs.
“Did the baron refuse to settle on you?” one yelled out to her.
Where were the men who were supposed to be protecting her?
More insults were hurled, and more questions asked, but through it all, Kate remained stoic while he grew more and more agitated. He couldn’t get to the valet. He couldn’t even get to the curb to get a cab, and there was no way in hell he’d let go of Kate to get one.
“Guess Romanov wanted someone a bit sweeter,” one reporter said scathingly.
Sweeter than Kate? He turned her to him. Tears were in her eyes, but they weren’t falling. It was if they were frozen. He had to do something.
“Trust me,” he said, moments before someone shoved them from behind.
With a cry, Kate stumbled violently off the curb and fell to her knees. A man stepped in front of him, sneering as he began to take pictures instead of helping her up.
Enraged, Noah balled his fist and punched the asshole in the gut before hauling ass for Kate. A car honked, coming to a screeching halt as Noah caged her within his arms and braced for the impact.
Nothing happened.
After a moment, he raised his head and stared at the front of a London taxi, its grill inches from his face. “Holy fuck.”
Where the fuck was her guards? “Are you okay?” he asked.
Instead of answering, Kate began to shake in his arms. “Please take me home.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t let go of you again,” he swore. More paparazzi swarmed them as he stood. “Back up,” he all but growled. Miraculously, they did as he ordered.
“Is it always like this?” he asked as her security team finally found them.
“Not always,” she said, but he heard the lie in her voice.
This was insane. He was insane for even considering her offer, much less negotiating with her.
However, he knew in his gut that she was the answer to his problems. He wouldn’t have to go to his father for money, and he wouldn’t have to show up at the bank with his hat in his hand.
Besides, they knew his financial troubles. Ever since the crash of 2009, there was no way they’d take a chance on a man who’d just lost his shirt. Beyond that, Kate needed protecting—her shitty security guys needed the shaft—and like any Texas man worth his salt, he’d do his duty by her. Honestly, what was the worst that could happen?
“I’ll marry you, Duchess.”
She gave him a faint smile as they climbed into a waiting SUV. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” He closed the door and pulled her close again, brushing the top of her head with his lips. “You’re coming home with me tomorrow.”
Chapter Three
‡
That night, Kate slept fitfully. Nightmares of being shoved into a crowded street while everyone around her called her filthy names and body-less arms held her down as she struggled to escape invaded her dreams every time her eyes shut.
Why couldn’t she dream of his kiss, his touch… the way he called her beautiful? Flopping to one side, she punched the down pillow and let out a small huff as she stared at the wall.
Finally, just before sunrise began to edge out the grey dawn, she gave up and left her bed, wrapping her body in a thick robe that skimmed the floor as she padded downstairs to the kitchen.
Perhaps she should have gone with Noah to his hotel like he had suggested. At least he would have made her feel safe. At the very least, he would have kept her distracted. The way he’d taken charge last night had impressed her, even if she hadn’t realized just how much until she’d sent him away with the assurance that she was perfectly fine. The glass of wine had helped calmed her nerves a bit, but in the end…She glanced at the clock on the microwave, taking note of time, and let out a sigh.
Opening the door to the fridge, she surveyed what her cook had prepared for today’s breakfast. After grabbing the container of chopped fruit, granola, and a bowl of yogurt, she placed it on the counter. Then she filled the teakettle, put it on the stove, and waited for the water to boil.
Her morning ritual calmed her slightly, and by the time she tucked in to breakfast, she was nearly feeling back to normal.
There was a sharp rap on her door. Her spoon dropped to the table with a loud clatter as her heart sped up.
Bloody hell.
Had they finally found her?
Naively, she’d thought that living on Princes Mews in Bayswater would keep her away from the prying eyes of the press. It wasn’t fashionable for someone with her background to live in a converted stable. Or rather, it hadn’t been when she first bought the property, and had it refurbished to modernize it and bring in more light.
Benjamin had installed the security systems as well as the cameras. It was how they met. She pushed away her thoughts of her former lover and concentrated on the possible situation at hand by checking her laptop.
With the click of the mouse, the camera zoomed in on the front door. She simultaneously breathed in relief and slapped her hand against her chest as her heart kicked against it.
“Noah,” she murmured before hurrying to the door. Right before she opened it, she composed herself and willed her heart to return to normal.
“Hullo,” she said as she swung the door open.
Noah stood there, wearing loose jeans that defined his powerful thighs and long legs, and a cashmere sweater the color of plums that made his eyes positively glow in the light from the weak morning sun.
“Duchess, sorry it’s so early,” he said, his voice husky from sleep. “But I’m leaving in a few hours, and I had to come by first.” His gaze traveled down her, taking in her mussed hair, and Dear Lord, she was practically nude. Her nipples tightened at the thought of him discovering that. “I had to make sure you were all right.”
Her heart fluttered in her chest at his concern. Then again, he couldn’t allow anything to happen to her before they were married. An odd pang hit her. Would that be all she ever was to him, a means to an end?
Did it matter?
“How lovely… Won’t you come in?” She stepped back as he brushed past her, the scent of his cologne urging her to lean in close. Instead, she closed the door behind him and locked it tight once more.
Turning to face her, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m surprised you answered the door, the early hour notwithstanding.”
“Who else would?” she asked, slightly confused. “I only have a part-time cook and weekly maid service to clean.”
He grimaced a little. “I didn’t mean a butler, or any other servant-types. I meant your security team.”
He thought her to be spoiled, but that wasn’t her life anymore. Okay, so that mostly wasn’t her life anymore. She did indulge herself, but she had attempted to cook once and nearly burned her London flat to the ground.
“They don’t live here either. I have a state-of-the-art security system.”
“Honey, unless that security system comes with attack dogs and a firearm or two, then it’s not doing you much good.”
She opened her mouth to argue about Americans and their preoccupation with guns, but then decided against it. Her security team did, in fact, have firearms to protect her, while the average citizen did not have that luxury.
“The paparazzi haven’t found me here. They still think I live in my flat on Belgravia,” she said.
“Care for something to eat? I was in the middle of eating breakfast,” she added, trying to change the subject.<
br />
He refused to take the bait, saying instead, “Eventually, one of them will figure it out, and judging by last night’s encounter, it will be sooner rather than later.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “Thank you again for saving me.”
He closed the distance between them, encircling both wrists with his hands. His skin was rough, yet smooth, and warm. Deliciously warm. Her body responded, desire emanating from where they were joined, hitting every sensitive nerve as it spread.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, and her lips parted. “Last night, we had an audience.”
“We don’t now,” she heard herself say.
“It was against my better judgment to leave you here.”
“I should have gone with you. I didn’t sleep well at all.”
His hands traveled up her arms, pushing back up sleeves of her robe. “Neither did I,” he admitted. “But some of my reasons aren’t exactly gentlemanly.”
She tipped her chin up to gaze at his handsome face. Yes, he looked exhausted, but he also looked as though he wanted to devour her. Electricity sparked between them, drawing their bodies closer together. Her nipples rubbed against the material of her robe, and her muscles clenched in places that hadn’t been touched in years.
“I wish I could go with you today,” she said, trying to refocus on his purpose. “We could take one of my jets, but I have things to sort before I join you in Holland Springs.”
“One of your jets?”
She shrugged, the material of her robe sliding off one shoulder. The cool air touched her bare skin, making goose bumps appear. “Only two, different sizes depending on the trip.”
“Is there anything you don’t have?”
Love, she wanted to tell him. She didn’t have love, but how silly that would sound to him. “Materially, no.”
“That so?”
She nodded. “You could take one of my jets, Noah.”
“I could, but I won’t.”
He touched her bare shoulder, skimming his fingers down the side and back up again. Her legs turned to jelly. Actually, everything turned to jelly. Only by sheer force of will did she remain standing.
“I don’t want material things from you, Duchess.” He pulled the robe back into place. “All I want is the woman.” Then he kissed her forehead and strode away, tossing over his shoulder, “I’ll call later, make sure you’re still okay. And if need be, fly my ass back here to you.”
Twenty-eight-year-old women did not swoon.
But…oh my, was she ever on the verge.
*
As a child, Noah had hero-worshipped his dad, but as he grew older, he started to resent Gunner. Before, his dad was the authority on what was right and wrong in the world. Now all he heard was judgment and all he saw was hypocrisy.
Worse, he was constantly subjected to it.
Yet, here he was, the day after returning home from London, sitting in his father’s Dallas-based office.
“This is an unexpected pleasure,” his dad said, leaning back in his chair. Unlike Noah, he had light hair and even lighter eyes. The only thing they had in common was their height and build.
In everything else, Noah took after his mother’s side of the family with their Mexican and Comanche heritage.
Unfortunately, Noah knew nothing of their traditions, spoke only a smattering of Spanish, and only when visiting his mother’s side of the family, which wasn’t often since his parents divorced when he was three. His dad retained custody. His mother barely saw him—though he suspected that was a condition of the divorce.
Actually, neither one of them saw him much—his dad shipped him off to the Sawyers in Plano, Texas as often as he could, and his mother eventually remarried and had a couple of more kids—half-siblings—Noah only knew by first name. He couldn’t blame his mother, not really. His dad was an asshole—an alcoholic asshole with a lot of money and intelligence that had just enough sense to allow his parents to help raise Noah.
In other words, Gunner was a man who knew his place in the pecking order and made sure he stayed on top. Yet, he lectured others on frivolous spending that could be used to help those in need, the benefits of tightening gun control laws, as well as the economy boost the Keystone Pipeline would have given the country while calling his legislator every other day to complain about the high taxes his corporation had to pay.
A man of contradictions if there ever was one.
“Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I’ve been busy.” Gunner started reading the newspaper in front of him. “Isn’t your land deal supposed to close next month?”
Shit. He did not want to head down that topic of conversation. “Yes.” Technically, he wasn’t lying. Originally, it was supposed to close next month.
“Heard some rumors about your lawyer.”
“Cosgrove is not my lawyer. He’s a lawyer for the property on Silver Lake.”
Gunnar glanced up from his paper. “You don’t have to be so defensive.”
“I’m not,” he said tersely. “I’m correcting your misconception.”
“Usually when a man’s defensive, it’s because he has something to hide,” his dad pointed out.
He had to change the subject and fast. Besides, he hadn’t come down here to talk business. “I have some news.”
His dad’s eyes gleamed with curiosity, but the rest of his face was impassive. “Go on.”
“I’m getting married.”
Gunner’s silver eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Married?”
Noah nodded once. “Her name’s Kate. She’s from England.” His dad didn’t need to know more than that, but Noah felt an obligation to tell him. After all, he was the only family he had left.
“What does Kate’s family do?”
Noah almost wished his dad had stayed on the topic of lawyers. Kate had never mentioned much about her family, only called them by their titles. Except…
“Does the daughter of a baron have official duties?” he asked.
Kate smiled slightly. “She stays out of trouble so that the baron’s peers have nothing to toss at him while they’re in session.”
“Session?”
“House of Lords. Perhaps it’s a bit like your congress, only the people don’t vote for them.” Her smile faded. “It’s a hereditary responsibility.”
“They’re in politics.”
“And your fiancée?”
“Charities.” He couldn’t say more because he knew she did nothing outside of that, and his dad would immediately begin the insults. There was no way he would allow anyone to smear Kate.
Gunner nodded, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Can’t wait to meet her. Parents, too. Happy to host them on the ranch. They ever been to Texas?”
Hell if he knew. He’d never met them. “That’s the thing. We’re getting married this weekend in a private ceremony.”
“Here?”
“No, Holland Springs.”
“Green card arrangement?”
“No.”
“Pregnant?”
Noah cocked his head to one side, grimacing. “No.” Yes, he wanted kids, but could the old man give him a little credit?
“Good.”
“Good or bad, the reason why we’re getting married is none of your business.”
Gunner set the paper down. “You’re my son.”
“I’m thirty-one, not thirteen,” Noah pointed out and then stood. “Look. I have to go. Just wanted you to know about the wedding.”
“So you could rub it in my face that I’m not invited?”
Noah clenched his jaw. “I’m not rubbing it in your face. Kate’s parents won’t be at the wedding either.”
“They don’t approve? Your background not good enough for them? Damned racists.” Righteous anger flashed in his eyes. “If that’s the case, I’ll be happy to have a talk with them.”
“The Von Lichtensteins are nice folks. They don’t care about my background.” That was true of their daughter, at lea
st.
“They’re German,” he said with a laugh. “That’s rich. We kicked their asses in WWII. Remind them of that.”
Yeah, he wouldn’t be reminding anyone of anything, especially not his soon-to-be-in-laws. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You do that son, and if you need me—”
“I don’t, but thanks.”
Noah walked out of his dad’s office. For the first time in a long time, his dad had actually defended him. While it should have felt great… all he could think was too little, too late.
Chapter Four
‡
Saturday morning, Kate stood at the window of her room in Chesson House, a beautiful bed and breakfast situated on the edge of Holland Springs proper, and watched as a wee crowd gathered in the garden.
No paparazzi among them. Nor her parents. They were under the impression she was on holiday in Seville. Christian, Sebastian’s twin brother, with his contacts and connections in the film industry, had hired a look-alike to impersonate her. Christian had also cleared away all the red tape she and Noah needed removed so they could be married in such a short period of time.
All that was left was for him to sign the prenuptial agreement before they wed. She allowed a smile to curve the corners of her mouth. At least today, she would have peace. Finally.
Letting go of the lace curtain, it swung back into place. She turned around, walking to the vanity to check her appearance one last time.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t say the same about the past few days. Due to the horrific incident in front of The Bull, the Internet was rife with speculation about her dinner companion. Who was he—a lover, friend, or merely an escort for a woman obviously nursing a broken heart? It was better than the former rumors and speculations about her reaction to Sebastian’s marriage.
So here she was, readying herself to marry a man she really didn’t know, yet… desire burned inside of her, hotter than before.
Her mobile buzzed on the vanity top, and she picked it up, reading the text message on the screen.
Noah: The notary is here. Can we come up?
She pressed her free hand against her stomach, trying to tamp down the sudden wave of apprehension. Traditionally, it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding gown before the ceremony, but nothing about their situation was traditional. They weren’t even getting married in the church her parents had on reserve.
The Billionaire Bride Page 3
