Extreme Provocation

by Sarah Holland

  Extreme Provocation

  Sarah Holland

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  LUCY stepped out of the taxi into the warm night air. Looking up at Marlborough’s, the exclusive London casino, she shivered, drawing her white lace shawl closer around her bare shoulders.

  There was nothing else for it. She had to go into this imposing place and get her father. He had already spent most of her grandfather’s fortune since inheriting it. If Lucy couldn’t stop him, he would gamble himself into bankruptcy and ruin.

  Marlborough’s was a private gambling club for the very rich. A doorman in smart livery demanded her name and proof of her identity.

  ‘Lucy Winslow,’ she said haughtily, handing him her passport. ‘My father is Gerald Winslow.’

  He tilted his cap and motioned for the doors to be opened.

  She swept in, head held high. Luxury surrounded her in the cream-gold foyer with its high ceiling and crystal chandeliers. Gazing around, she felt suddenly very young and nave, not sure where to go. Where were the gaming rooms? What did one do?

  Suddenly she sensed someone watching her. With a start, she looked up, green eyes huge.

  A man stood on the luxurious stairs, one hand on a gold banister. He was very tall with broad shoulders and long legs. He wore a black suit, impeccably cut, a dark red silk tie and a tight black waistcoat.

  ‘Feeling lost?’ he asked, and his voice was excitingly smoky.

  Her pulses leapt. ‘No. I was looking for someone.’

  The man walked coolly down the stairs. ‘Anyone in particular?’

  ‘My father,’ she said, staring at his face as he stepped into the light, seeing the jagged scar on his hard-boned cheek, the cynical blue eyes and the firm, ruthless mouth.

  ‘What’s his name?’ A frown drew black brows together.

  ‘Gerald Winslow,’ she said, lifting her blonde head with pride.

  ‘I know him,’ he said slowly. ‘Come with me.’ He opened the door with one very powerful hand. She noticed dark hairs on the back of that hand, white cuffs at his wrist, and the glimpse of a black Rolex watch.

  Stepping into the casino, Lucy was dazzled by the expensive gleam of low-lighting on roulette tables, blackjack tables, pontoon and punto banco and the glitter of silver chips, gold chips, scarlet chips, all clattering down polished chutes.

  The door swung shut as the dark stranger stepped in beside her. ‘This way...’ His strong hand moved to the small of her back, propelling her across the luxurious, imposing gaming rooms.

  Heads lifted as they passed. Women eyed the stranger admiringly, one sultry brunette even licking her red lips as she watched him stride with cool arrogance past her, his face expressionless.

  He led her to a set of doors and opened one. Lucy looked into the baccarat room and saw her father. ‘Oh! There he is!’ She moved forwards.

  ‘You can’t go in.’ The man blocked her path.

  Lucy’s green eyes sparkled up at him. ‘But I can see him. He’s the one in the—’

  ‘I know which one he is,’ he drawled coolly, ‘but I’m not letting you in. Not in that dress.’ The blue eyes moved to her body with ruthless sexual appraisal, stripping her of the cream silk evening gown that skimmed her full breasts and tiny waist and rounded hips. ‘You’d cause a riot,’ he murmured insolently.

  Hot colour flooded her face. ‘You’re impertinent,’ she said tautly. ‘Mr...?’

  He smiled slowly and did not reply.

  Lucy’s mouth tightened. ‘I came here to see my father, and I must insist you let me through.’

  ‘You can see him when he’s finished playing.’ He closed the door and took her bare arm in a cool hand, propelling her away from the room.

  Lucy tried to pull away from him. ‘What do you think you’re doing? Let me go at once!’

  ‘I’ll leave word with the floor manager,’ he drawled coolly, continuing to stride across the luxurious casino with her. ‘He’ll send your father to me when the game is over.’ He looked down with narrowed eyes, adding, ‘Don’t cause a scene.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she said tensely. ‘But I don’t know you and I don’t like the way you’re ordering me around.’

  ‘No need for alarm,’ he said flatly. ‘You’re perfectly safe.’

  She gave an angry laugh. ‘If I’m perfectly safe, why are you trying to take me somewhere?’

  ‘Because I can see you’re not used to casino life,’ he said coolly, and halted, looking down at her with those unnerving blue eyes. ‘I thought you’d prefer a cup of coffee in a quiet room.’

  Hesitating, her eyes darted over his tough face. ‘What sort of quiet room?’

  ‘My office,’ he said.

  Lucy studied him for a moment, the idea appealing to her. She felt out of her depth in this sophisticated atmosphere. However exclusive, there was an edge to the scent of money that was excitingly sinful.

  ‘You work here?’ she asked at length.

  A smile touched the sardonic mouth. ‘Oh, yes...’ His long-fingered hand pressured her with the merest touch. ‘This way...’

  With misgivings, Lucy allowed him to lead her behind the tables. One or two of the men in dark suits who worked behind the tables tried to approach the man. He waved a strong hand of dismissal at them, his face and eyes hard as he strode past with Lucy.

  She wondered who he was. He had an air of power and authority. His clothes were impeccably cut. He was obviously very rich. Her eyes scanned his tough face in a sidelong glance. Was he the manager?

  ‘In here,’ he said, unlocking a large cream door with a round gold handle and ushering her in.

  Lucy moved inside, her pale silvery hair brushing faintly against the man’s powerful chest. The door closed with a cool click. Lucy spun, watching him warily through her long fair lashes. Now that she was alone with him in this quiet, civilised room, he seemed even more dangerous.

  ‘Coffee, then?’ he asked, strolling coolly towards her.

  ‘Thank you, that would be nice.’

  He smiled, and moved to the mahogany desk which, she noticed with surprise, was a French antique. It had exquisite carved legs, the wood rich and deeply polished.

  ‘Two coffees in my office,’ he said into the telephone, then punched out another number. ‘Send Winslow to me when he’s finished playing. Yes...my office.’ He replaced the receiver. His blue eyes flashed to her face. ‘Sit down,’ he said softly, gesturing to a long, deep red couch behind her.

  Lucy sank down on to it. As she crossed her long slim legs with a swish of silk, his eyes moved assessingly over them. He was unsmiling.

  He watched her for a moment, then strolled coolly to the front of the desk and perched on it, his black jacket falling back, exposing the lean power of his body beneath the black waistcoat.

  ‘So you’re Gerald Winslow’s daughter?’

  ‘Yes.’ Lucy watched him through her lashes.

  ‘Are you his only daughter?’ His tone was cool, conversational, belying the danger in those ruthless blue eyes as they moved slowly over her, undressing her.

  ‘His only child,’ she said, equally conversational, although her pulses were leaping with awareness. ‘My mother died when I was four. My father never remarried.’

  A frown touched his brow. ‘He brought you up alone?’

  ‘Not really.’ She laughed lightly. ‘There was my grandfather, too.’

  ‘Ah, yes...’ The blue eyes narrowed though
tfully. ‘Sir Charles. I remember him. He came here once, with your father. An impressive man. Sharp with cards, too.’ He smiled with lazy amusement. ‘Made mincemeat of my dealers, if I remember rightly, and walked off with over ten thousand pounds in cash.’

  Lucy’s green eyes shone with pride and regret. ‘He was very clever. We all miss him very much.’

  He studied her for a moment, then said, ‘And what of you, Miss...?’

  ‘Winslow,’ she said, green eyes teasing him through her lashes.

  ‘I wanted your Christian name,’ he murmured, a dark look in his eyes.

  ‘Lucy,’ she supplied, lifting her chin.

  He smiled, said softly, ‘Lucy...’ and then his blue eyes were moving over her body with sexual appraisal, lingering on her full breasts, bare beneath the revealing cream silk gown. ‘It suits you. Especially in that dress. Did you know there were several very famous kings’ courtesans called Lucy?’

  Hot colour swept slowly up her throat and then her face. She felt suddenly afraid of him, her body pulsing with alarmed excitement.

  As if he sensed her fear, he veiled his eyes and smiled. ‘And what do you do with yourself all day, Lucy? Are you still at school?’

  ‘No,’ she said tensely, lifting her blonde brows haughtily. ‘I’m twenty-three, as a matter of fact, and I have a job.’

  The hard mouth crooked. ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes.’ She felt flustered and under threat. ‘I work at a nursery in Kensington. I look after three-year-olds before they go to prep school.’

  ‘And how long have you—?’ He broke off as there was a knock at the door. Getting up from the desk, he strode coolly to open it, ushering in a sophisticated brunette in casino evening gown, who placed a tray on the desk, then exited.

  When they were alone again, he poured coffee from the silver pot. She watched him through her lashes, aware of the scent of his aftershave as he leant close to her, putting the cups down slowly, then moving back to stand over her, hands sliding into trouser pockets as he watched her with those cynical eyes.

  Lucy shifted, unnerved by his gaze.

  Suddenly, he sat down beside her, one powerful arm sliding along the couch behind her pale head.

  ‘I wonder if my father’s ready yet...’ Lucy said, shaken.

  ‘I doubt it,’ he murmured, his eyes fixed on her mouth. ‘He tends to play till dawn.’

  ‘I can’t stay here that long...’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said softly, ‘he’ll come along when he’s ready.’ His hand moved slowly, picking up a strand of her blonde hair. ‘Is it natural? It’s quite the most extraordinary colour.’

  ‘I think I ought to—’ she began huskily, trying to get up.

  He moved swiftly, surely, his left hand on her bare shoulder as he pushed her gently back against the couch, his dark head looming suddenly over her.

  ‘Not just yet,’ he said, watching her through black lashes, and gave a slow, rather deadly smile. ‘After all...you don’t even know my name.’

  She studied him warily, her pulses thudding. ‘And what is your name?’

  ‘Randal,’ he said, and his strong hand moved slowly to her naked throat.

  Panic erupted in her veins. ‘Let me go...’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t, my dear,’ he said thickly, suddenly very dangerous indeed as his dark head lowered. ‘I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first saw you, and I can assure you you’re not leaving this office until I do...’

  His dark head seemed to obliterate the light as it lowered, and she felt hypnotised, staring as her heart banged louder and louder until that ruthless mouth closed over hers.

  The hot rush of excitement made her gasp, struggling, and that seemed to inflame him.

  Suddenly, his mouth was parting hers with hungry demand, and Lucy moaned in hoarse disbelief, her mouth opening helplessly beneath his. But still she struggled, her hands hitting his powerful shoulders, her body wriggling as she tried to push him away.

  Her puny fight inflamed him further. A rough sound of pleasure came from the back of his throat. He was pushing her back against the cushions, his mouth a hot onslaught of commanding power, and as his strong hands began to move over her body she gave a hoarse cry of alarmed excitement.

  Her hands slapped and scratched at his face and neck. She was fighting in earnest now, a wildcat unleashed in his powerful arms, and then her nails caught his hard jaw with a livid scratch.

  ‘You little cat!’ he laughed thickly, jerking his head back from her, but his face was darkly flushed and his blue eyes glittering.

  Lucy almost fell off the couch, heart pounding as she grabbed her bag and ran to the door, wrenching it open. He watched her from the couch, his blue eyes narrowed, blood on his hard jaw. He did not attempt to follow her, but there was a hard smile on his mouth, and Lucy was terrified he might.

  Running across the casino, she attracted startled looks. She didn’t care. Nor did she care that she had left her white shawl in Randal’s office. She stumbled out of the casino into the warm night air in time to see a taxi discharging passengers on the steps.

  ‘Astor Square!’ she gasped out to the driver as she leapt in and slammed the door. ‘Hurry.’

  The wheels spun, the taxi pulled away, and as it swung around the corner away from Marlborough’s she knew she was safe, though her hands were shaking.

  Anger flooded her as she remembered the insolent way he had looked at her, and the ruthless way he had simply taken that kiss from her against her will.

  How dared he do that! He had lured her into that office, pretending to be friendly, with the express purpose of kissing her! She could see it all now, from the moment he saw her to the moment he took her into his office, right down to the moment he sank down on the sofa beside her, smiling at her sardonically and looking at her mouth.

  Fury sparkled in her green eyes. If she ever saw that man again, she’d slap his hard, handsome face until it stung.

  As for her father...a sigh broke from her lips. There was nothing she could do to stop him gambling tonight. He probably wouldn’t be home until the early hours of the morning, and how much money would he have lost by then?

  Angrily, she thought of Randal preventing her from going into the baccarat room. If he had allowed her entry, she could have been with her father now, in this taxi, driving safely home. The selfishness of the man made her even more furious. No doubt he had more money than he knew what to do with. Certainly, he wouldn’t understand Lucy’s desperation to save her father from bankruptcy.

  The taxi dropped her in Astor Square and she went inside, accustomed to the elegant silence of the house. Although she lay awake until three, she did not hear her father come home, drunk, at dawn.

  Next day, she went to work as usual at the kindergarten in the leafy little residential street in Kensington. The children were in high spirits, and she was covered in paint at the end of the day, and needed to wash her face and arms vigorously.

  She walked home in the late-afternoon sunlight. Astor Square was one of the more secluded squares in Kensington, with a pretty little green enclosed by railings, and rows of small detached Georgian houses around it. Her family had once owned the whole of one side of it.

  Sir Charles Winslow, her grandfather, had been knighted by the Queen for his contribution to British architecture. Before he died, he had invested all his money in property, buying half of this square to safeguard the money he left to his only son, Gerald.

  But since his death, ten years ago, the family fortunes had dwindled to almost nothing. Her father had wanted cash to spend, not investments to retain. House after house had been sold off. Now, they only retained number one, the first house on the square, and Lucy knew her father had taken out a mortgage on it last year.

  When she got in, she found her father already drinking.

  He was a tall, debonair man in his early fifties with pale blonde hair, silvering at the temples. ‘Hello, darling.’ he said with lazy charm when he saw her enter the
elegant drawing-room. ‘Edward and I are just having pre-dinner cocktails. Care to join us?’

  Lucy’s green eyes flicked with love to Edward’s face. ‘You shouldn’t encourage him.’

  Edward gave a wry shrug. ‘He’d do it with or without my permission. You know that, Lucy.’

  Gerald frowned. ‘I say. Don’t talk about a chap as though he wasn’t here!’

  They all laughed.

  Edward moved towards Lucy, his pale blue eyes tracing her face with affection. ‘You look radiant. Good day with the children?’

  ‘Lovely,’ she nodded. ‘Come into the kitchen and talk to me while I prepare dinner.’

  They went into the kitchen, a bright sunlit room backing on to a small square of garden. Lucy waited until the door was shut, then flung herself into Edward’s arms.

  ‘Darling!’ She kissed his neck, breathed in the familiar scent of his skin. ‘If only you lived here, you could help me stop him. I’m so worried...’

  ‘My darling.’ He stroked her hair with long fingers. ‘I know. So am I. But I just can’t stop him spending. I keep telling him he’s hurtling towards bankruptcy, but he won’t listen.’

  ‘He’s been rich all his life,’ she said, closing her eyes. ‘He thinks it’ll never run out.’

  ‘I’ve explained it all a thousand times to him.’ Edward gave a harsh sigh. ‘But it’s no good, Lucy. It’s as though he wants to destroy himself, and take the family down with him.’

  Edward Blair was tall and thin with pale hair and pale skin and a very pale mouth. His father had been Sir Charles’s accountant. Edward had naturally taken up the position when his father died. The Winslow family and the Blair family had had a close tie.

  Edward was so close to her that he was almost family. She had always known she was in love with him—and that they would one day marry. So had Edward. It was just a matter now of buying a ring and naming the day.

  ‘Edward, I went to the casino last night,’ Lucy told him now, ‘to try and stop him gambling, but—’

  ‘You went to the casino!’ He was shocked. ‘My God, Lucy! You shouldn’t have done that. Not alone...’

  ‘Why not?’ she protested, flushing deeply at the memory of that man’s passionate kiss and the danger he had made her feel. ‘I’m twenty-three and perfectly capable of walking into a casino.’