Rich, Ruthless and Secretly Royal

by Robyn Donald

  Before she could say anything, he went on, ‘And I want your word that you’ll let me or Arthur know if you feel another attack coming on.’

  Head held high, she met his steady gaze with cold composure. ‘If it makes you feel happier I’ll let someone know. And I’ll ring the homestead every evening.’ She added sweetly, ‘Anything to please the man who is letting me live in his bach rent-free.’

  Hani knew she sounded ungracious, but being backed into a corner made her feel wildly resentful. She’d feared Felipe’s brutal domination, but at that age she’d been so sheltered she’d had no way of dealing with it. And then he’d made sure she couldn’t escape it.

  To be faced now with another dictatorial man angered her more than it frightened her—and that, she conceded reluctantly, was a relief.

  ‘That’s not an issue,’ Kelt said shortly. ‘Certainly not a personal one.’

  ‘You can’t actually stop me being grateful,’ she snapped, ‘but I won’t bore you with it.’

  ‘I don’t want your damned gratitude!’

  She opened her mouth to hurl an injudicious reply, then abruptly closed it before her intemperate words could burst forth. ‘How did you do that? I never lose my temper!’

  He stared at her, then gave a slow, wicked smile that sizzled through her defences, reducing her to silence.

  But his tone was ironic when he said, ‘Neither do I. As for how I managed to make you lose yours—according to my brother, a cousin and my grandmother,’ he drawled, ‘I suffer from a power complex.’

  ‘They know you well.’ She didn’t try to hide the caustic note in her voice.

  Kelt’s raised eyebrow signified his understanding of her reluctance, but he appeared to take her surrender at face value, saying coolly, ‘Thank you. I’ll warn Arthur. He has a first-aid certificate and so do I.’

  Irritated again, she blurted, ‘I won’t need first aid—well, not unless I fall off a cliff. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.’

  There was a moment’s silence until he said with silky clarity, ‘I hope you don’t intend to renege. I really don’t like people who lie.’

  Then he’d hate her—her whole life was built on lies. She said unevenly, ‘You’re just going to have to trust me.’

  He held her gaze, then nodded and stretched out his hand. ‘So shake on it.’

  She should be getting accustomed to the way his touch burned through her, but it seemed to be getting more and more potent.

  Fighting a sensuous weakness as they shook hands, she managed to produce something that resembled a smile. ‘I’m sorry, I’m being dull company, but I have to confess to getting tired very early in the evening.’

  As she knew he would, he examined her face with that analytical gaze before getting to his feet. ‘Far from dull. In fact, the more I know of you the more interesting I find you,’ he said ambiguously, ‘but I’ll take you home.’

  His instant agreement should have pleased her. Instead it made her feel as though she’d been rejected. Idiot, she scolded herself fiercely and went to put down the pretty shawl.

  Kelt said, ‘Keep it on. It will be cool outside now, and you’ll need it.’

  Arthur saw them out, his face crinkling with restrained pleasure when she said, ‘That was a superb meal, thank you.’

  ‘My pleasure, miss,’ he said with a half-bow.

  Kelt was right; the air was much crisper than it had been before sunset, and Hani had to bite her lips to stop them trembling. Snuggling into the shawl in Kelt’s big Range Rover, she realised that if she wanted to be comfortable for the next three months she’d have to buy new clothes.

  She fought back a twinge of panic. Her trust fund—a secret between them, her godmother had told her with a wink when she revealed its existence on her seventeenth birthday, because every woman needed money she didn’t have to account for—provided her with a small income, but it wasn’t enough to stretch to clothes she’d never wear again.

  Perhaps there was a secondhand shop in a nearby town.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Kelt asked as they went over the cattle grid onto the road that led to the bach.

  He must be able to read her like a book. Forcing her brows back into their normal place, she said airily, ‘I was just thinking I need new clothes. I know it’s summer, but I’m used to tropical heat.’

  ‘There are a couple of quite good boutiques in Kaitake, our service centre,’ he told her. ‘Unless you need the clothes urgently I’ll take you there the day after tomorrow. I’m going there on business, and you can have a look around.’

  Boutiques she didn’t need—too expensive. ‘I could walk—’

  ‘No, it’s not the local village—that’s Waituna, and it’s about five kilometres north, but it’s just a small general store and a petrol station. Kaitake is on the coast about twenty minutes’ drive away.’

  ‘I see.’ After a moment’s hesitation she said formally, ‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you.’

  He shrugged. ‘You’ll find the copy of the road code I promised you in the glove pocket.’

  Back at the homestead, Kelt strolled into the kitchen and got himself a glass of water, looking up as Arthur came in through the door that led to his own quarters.

  ‘Tell me, Arthur, what part of the UK does Miss Court come from?’

  ‘She’s not English,’ Arthur said promptly and decisively.

  Kelt lifted an enquiring eyebrow. ‘She sounds very English.’

  ‘Not to me. She speaks it superbly, but I’d wager quite a lot of money that English is not her first language.’ He frowned and said slowly, ‘In fact, I think I detect hints of a Creole heritage.’

  ‘Caribbean?’ Interest quickened through Kelt. He set the glass down on the bench.

  ‘Could be,’ Arthur said slowly, frowning, ‘but I doubt it. I just don’t know—but I’m certain she’s not English.’

  During the night Hani woke from a deep, deep sleep and heard rain quietly falling onto the roof, and in the morning everything outside glittered in the sunlight as though dusted with diamonds.

  The water in the bay was a little discoloured, and when she went for a walk after breakfast she discovered one side of the small stream had fallen in, the clay damming the stream so that it backed up and was already oozing up to the farm road.

  Back at the bach she rang through to the homestead. And was not, she told herself stoutly, disappointed when Arthur answered.

  ‘Right, I’ll make sure the farm manager hears about it,’ he said. ‘Thank you very much for reporting it, Miss Court.’

  Later in the day she walked back along the road and came upon someone clearing the stream. One of the huge trees hung over the water there, its leaves sifting the sunlight so that it fell in dapples of golden light across the man in the water.

  Kelt, she thought, her heart soaring exultantly.

  He’d taken off his shirt, and the sun played across the powerful muscles of his bronze shoulders and back. An urgent heat flamed in the pit of her stomach as her eyes lingered on each powerful thrust of his arms as when he dug through the temporary dam with fluid strength, tossing shovelfuls of clay back up the bank.

  Her response shocked her—a wild rush of adrenalin, of heady anticipation, a swift, unspoken recognition in the very deepest levels of her heart and mind.

  As if her passionate claiming had somehow sent out subliminal signals, Kelt looked up. His tanned face showed a flash of white as he smiled, but his gaze was coolly assessing.

  Without altering the steady, smooth rhythm of his shovelling, he said, ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Good morning,’ Hani replied sedately, hoping her voice sounded as impersonal as his. Triumphantly she fished in her pocket and held out a container of pill capsules.

  His smile reappeared. ‘Good girl.’

  Reaching up to a low branch, he used it to swing himself up onto the bank. With a smile that turned her sizzling appreciation into a flame, pure and keen and intense, he said, ‘An
d thanks for being a good citizen and reporting the blockage in the creek.’

  ‘It looked as though it might wash out the road.’ Hani felt shy and foolish, the urgent instructions of her mind at war with the eager pleading of her body.

  ‘It could have.’ He turned and surveyed his handiwork. He’d opened enough of a breach for the discoloured water to start flowing sluggishly out onto the beach. ‘Once I took over Kiwinui I started a programme of fencing the gullies and riversides off from stock and planting them up with native plants. This land erodes badly if it’s not cared for, and the farm manager who ran it when I was under age cared more for production than for conservation.’ He shrugged. ‘He was a man of his time.’

  Hani nodded. After her father’s death Rafiq had introduced a variety of conservation measures to Moraze, somewhat to the astonishment and dismay of many of his subjects. ‘How do you stop the bank from eroding?’

  He indicated a tray of small plants on the tray of a small truck. ‘We run a nursery where we grow seeds from the native plants on the station. Our native flax loves wet feet, and is extremely good at holding up banks. As well, this summer the road to the bach is being moved further up the hill so that it’s not running across a natural wetlands area.’

  ‘Are you going to plant those little seedlings?’ she asked.

  ‘Once I’ve finished clearing this away, yes.’

  Impetuously Hani said, ‘I’ll help.’

  His brows shot up. ‘You’ll get dirty.’

  She shrugged. ‘So? I’ve been dirty before, and as far as I know it all washed off.’

  ‘You haven’t got gumboots.’

  ‘I can go barefoot,’ she told him, exasperated by his obvious image of her as a useless creature. She sat down and slid her feet out of her elderly sneakers, aware that Kelt stood and watched her.

  When she stood up again he said, ‘Do you know how to plant things?’

  ‘I’m not an expert,’ she said, sending him a look that held more challenge than was probably wise, ‘but if you tell me what you want me to do and where the plants should go, I’m sure I can cope.’

  Still with that infuriating air of amusement he did, digging holes for the plants, then going back to clean up the sides of the stream while she planted, patting the earth around each little flax bush with care.

  They didn’t talk much, although she learned that in this part of New Zealand there were no streams, only creeks. And although she was still acutely, heatedly aware of him, she found the silence and the work oddly companionable, even soothing.

  Well, soothing if she kept her eyes on the plants and didn’t let them stray to Kelt, she thought mordantly, lowering her lashes after a peek at the smooth sheen of his skin when he threw another shovelful of clay up onto the bank.

  ‘There,’ she said when she’d finished.

  Two long strides brought him up beside her. ‘Well done.’ He paused, and into the silence fell a sweet, echoing peal of birdsong. ‘A tui,’ he told her laconically, pointing out a black bird, sheened with green and bronze and with a bobble of white feathers at the throat. ‘They visit the flax flowers to get nectar.’

  She eyed the tall, candelabra-like stalks that held wine-coloured flowers. The bird sank its beak into the throat of another one, then climbed to the top of the stalk and, as if in thanks, lifted its head and sang again, its notes pealing out like the chime of small silver bells into the warm, sea-scented air.

  Sheer delight prompted Hani to murmur, ‘It’s just—so beautiful here.’

  There was another silence before he said, ‘Indeed it is.’

  Something in his tone made her glance up.

  He was looking at her, not at the tui, and deep inside her desire burned away the warnings of her mind so that they crumbled into ashes. Hani forgot she had muddy hands and feet; she’d wiped sweat off her face and there was probably mud there too.

  Under his hooded scrutiny her lips and throat went dry. Tension arced between them like lightning.

  Get out of here, she thought frantically, before you do something stupid, like tilt your head towards him. She fought back an imperative desire to do just that and find out once and for all what Kelt’s kiss would feel like.

  As though he sensed her desperate effort to keep calm, she saw him impose control, his eyes darken, and the dangerous moment passed.

  Yet he’d wanted her…

  Nothing, she thought with a flash of pure rapture, could ever take that away. But far more wondrous was that she wanted him. After six years of being sure Felipe had killed that part of her, she felt passion and desire again.

  Kelt said, ‘And it will be even more beautiful when these plants grow. Thank you. Kiwinui will always have some part of you here.’

  Unexpectedly touched by the thought, she said, ‘I enjoyed doing it.’

  ‘I just hope it doesn’t make you feel worse. Remember, any shiver, anything that worries you, ring the homestead.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’m afraid I have to go—I’m expecting a call from overseas.’

  Back at the bach she told herself she should be grateful to that unknown person who was calling him long-distance.

  Falling in lust with Kelt was one thing, but her headstrong desire to know him far more intimately was a much more dangerous development.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WHEN she rang that night, Arthur answered again. He enquired after her health, said Kelt had told him she’d helped plant the flax and hoped her hard work hadn’t made her condition worse.

  ‘No, I’m very well, thank you,’ she replied politely. After she’d rung off she thought sombrely that Kelt was probably out with some local beauty.

  Trying to laugh herself out of that foolish mood didn’t work, so she went to bed and dreamed of him, only to wake cross and crumpled in the big bed the next morning.

  ‘Enough,’ she told her reflection severely as she applied moisturiser. ‘OK, so you think he’s gorgeous. No, let’s be embarrassingly honest here—you want to go to bed with him. Very, very much.’

  And even more since she’d seen him clearing the stream—creek, she amended hurriedly—shirtless, his bronzed torso exposed in lethal power and forceful energy.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Hurriedly she finished the rest of her morning regime, telling herself sternly, ‘But even if he feels the same way, there’s absolutely no future for this. In three months’ time you’re going back to Tukuulu, where you’re safe.’

  And she’d never be able to forge any sort of future with him—or any man, not so long as Felipe was alive.

  But Felipe hadn’t found her, she thought, stopping and staring sightlessly into the mirror. And here, in New Zealand, she felt just as safe as she had in Tukuulu.

  Perhaps there was a chance…

  ‘Forget it!’ she said curtly. ‘It’s not going to happen, not now, not ever.’

  So Kelt had moments when he wanted her. Big deal; for most men that meant very little. If she allowed herself to surrender to the erotic charge between them, he’d probably enjoy an affair, then wave her goodbye at that tiny airport without anything more than mild regret.

  Or—even more cringe-making—perhaps he hadn’t liked what he’d seen when he’d taken off her wet dress and slipped the shift over her head…

  Whatever, an affair was out! So when he arrived in a few minutes she’d be cool and dismissive and completely ignore the chemistry between them.

  Dead on time he drove down the track. He was already out of the vehicle when Hani walked out to meet him, her heartbeat racing into an erratic tattoo. Lean and lithe and very big, he surveyed her with an intimidating scrutiny for several seconds before his smile not only melted her bones but also set her wayward pulse off into the stratosphere.

  Dizzily she said, ‘Good morning,’ in her most guarded voice.

  Until he’d smiled at her she’d been very aware that this day was considerably cooler than the previous one. Now however, she felt almost feverish.

  His gaze h
ardened. ‘You’re looking a bit tired.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said quickly, dismissively.

  A glance at the sedan he’d driven made her fight back a gurgle of laughter. He so did not look like that four-cylinder, family-style vehicle! No, he should be driving something wickedly male and dangerous…

  So what did it mean that he thought this sedate vehicle suitable for her?

  Nothing, she reminded herself staunchly; don’t go reading symbolism into everything he does. He was extremely kind to offer what was probably his only spare vehicle; that it happened to be a reliable, boring car was all to the good!

  Now, if only she could satisfy him that the past few hours spent devouring the contents of the road code had turned her into a fit driver for New Zealand roads.

  ‘Hop behind the wheel,’ Kelt said, making it sound rather too much of an order.

  With a touch of asperity Hani said, ‘Thank you,’ and climbed into the car. Once there, she spent time familiarising herself with the instrument panel.

  Kelt got in beside her, immediately sucking all of the air out of the interior.

  ‘Ah, an automatic,’ she said, memories of being taught to drive flooding her. ‘My brother used to say…’

  Appalled, she bit back the rest of the comment, hoping desperately that he hadn’t heard her.

  Not a chance.

  ‘Your brother used to say—?’

  Bending forward, she hid her face by groping for the lever that moved the seat. ‘That they’re for old ladies of both sexes.’

  ‘I wonder if he’d feel the same once he’d driven on some of Northland’s roads,’ Kelt said dryly.

  ‘Perhaps not.’ Her shaking fingers closed on the lever, but she was so tense she misjudged the effort needed, and the seat jerked forward. However, the several moments spent adjusting it to her liking gave her precious time to compose herself.

  Straightening, she said in her most cheerful tone, ‘That’s better—I can reach the pedals now. Not everybody has such long legs as you.’