Extreme Provocation

by Sarah Holland

  Slowly, Edward walked into the house. Randal coolly closed the door, smiling lazily, sizing Edward up and finding him lacking.

  Edward extended a hand. ‘How do you do, Mr Marlborough. I’m Edward Blair, accountant to Mr Winslow.’

  Randal’s dark brows shot up. He shook hands with Edward, darting a narrow-eyed glance at Lucy. ‘The accountant? How long have you been working for him?’

  Lucy moved to Edward, one slim hand touching his shoulder. ‘Edward has been with us for years,’ she said softly, and stood on tip-toe to kiss his pale cheek.

  ‘Years?’ Randal’s mouth hardened as he saw her deliberate gesture of intimacy with Edward.

  ‘Yes, I don’t know what we’d do without him.’ Lucy ran a hand through Edward’s hair, affectionately ruffling it.

  ‘My father was accountant to Lucy’s grandfather.’ Edward kissed her cheek. ‘When he died, I naturally took over.’

  ‘Edward is practically an honorary Winslow!’ Lucy added, smiling.

  ‘Part of the family, then?’ Randal said tightly, watching them.

  ‘Yes,’ Lucy said on impulse. ‘We’re going to be married.’

  Randal’s face turned to flint. ‘Married?’

  There was a tense silence. Edward was staring at Lucy in amazement and she flushed, unable to meet his eyes, aware that she had gone too far.

  ‘How’s lunch coming along?’ a cheery voice called from the stairs, and the frozen tableau of three turned to stare as Lucy’s father came down looking debonair. ‘There you are, Mr Marlborough! Delighted you could make it!’ He shook Randal’s hand, beaming. ‘Can I offer you a drink?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Randal said. ‘A whisky would be appreciated. I’ve had a tough weekend. So damned busy...’ He followed her father into the drawing-room with a cool stride.

  Lucy cleared her throat. ‘I’ll go and finish the lunch.’

  Escaping into the kitchen, she breathed a sigh of relief. Now that she had made it clear that she intended to marry Edward, perhaps Randal would leave her alone.

  Edward came in as she was simmering the carrots. ‘What on earth made you do that, Lucy?’ he demanded, closing the door and walking to her.

  ‘What?’ she asked, blushing furiously.

  ‘Announce our wedding as though it were imminent! I thought we’d agreed to wait.’

  ‘No,’ she said on impulse. ‘That was what you wanted, Edward. You didn’t really consult me at all.’

  He was silent for a moment, taken aback. So was she. She had never been so direct before. She had let him dictate the terms of their relationship from the very beginning. But she couldn’t any more. Not now that she was under threat from a predator like Randal Marlborough.

  ‘I assumed you were happy with the arrangement,’ Edward said slowly.

  Lucy gave a deep sigh, putting a hand on his arm. ‘Oh Edward, you know I love you, and I’m prepared to wait, truly I am. It’s just that...’ she moistened dry lips, ‘I—I need some confirmation that I’m not waiting in vain. I’m twenty-three now, Edward. I’ve never had any other boyfriend but you and I...’ she broke off, flushing as she whispered, ‘I think I’m beginning to doubt you.’

  He stared. ‘Lucy, what are you saying?’

  ‘That I’d like us to get officially engaged,’ she said, amazed at her own boldness, but feeling pushed into it by Randal.

  Edward drew a sharp breath, moving away from her. Lucy felt the pain of rejection, her hand dropping from him as he moved. He walked to the kitchen windows, hands in trouser pockets, and stared out at the small garden.

  ‘This is all tied up with Randal Marlborough, isn’t it?’ he asked suddenly.

  Lucy flushed deeply. ‘You’ve been saying you’ll marry me for—’

  ‘Just answer me, Lucy,’ Edward said flatly, turning. ‘Marlborough’s behind this somewhere, isn’t he?’

  She looked away, not knowing how to reply.

  ‘He was kissing you when I arrived,’ Edward said. ‘Don’t deny it. I’m not blind. I saw the tell-tale signs on both of your faces—’

  ‘Edward...’ She moved to him. ‘You can’t believe that I’d—’

  ‘Oh, he’s a very big fish to catch!’ Edward cut in angrily. ‘All that money, all that power—he’d certainly reinstate the Winslow family, wouldn’t he? If you were Mrs Randal Marlborough, every door in London would be open to you!’

  She recoiled from him in horror. ‘If that were true, I would hardly have invited you for lunch to cramp my style and spoil my chances with him! I would deliberately have excluded you!’

  He studied her for a second, his face pale. Then he looked away, saying, ‘That’s true...’

  She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Oh, darling.’ She moved to him again, her hand on his arm. ‘I need you to make our engagement official. I need a ring...Edward, if I had a ring he’d leave me alone, I’m sure of it.’

  He studied her, frowning, then said carefully, ‘All right. We’ll get engaged officially. I’ll take you to buy the ring next weekend. I promise.’

  ‘Oh, Edward...’ she whispered, lifting her blonde head, tears in her eyes. ‘Thank you.’

  He smiled briefly and dropped a kiss on her mouth. ‘But no weddings yet, Lucy. This is just an engagement. Got it?’ Then he moved away from her, saying, ‘I’ll be in the other room, darling. You finish the lunch and don’t worry.’

  As he left, Lucy stared at the closed door, bewildered. They’d just got engaged—surely he should be rapturous, kissing her passionately? A thought flashed into her mind—did Edward really love her?

  The question seemed horribly disloyal, and she angrily pushed it from her mind, but it wouldn’t be vanquished, and as she went into the drawing-room, she met Randal Marlborough’s dark eyes and felt excitement shoot through her like adrenalin. She could not deny her physical response to him. But she shied away from comparing it with her response to Edward...

  They ate lunch in an atmosphere of tension. Lucy found herself seated next to Edward, opposite Randal, and Randal was icily polite.

  ‘This is very good,’ Randal said coolly as he ate the roast chicken. ‘Thank you. Exactly what I needed after a hectic morning.’

  ‘What made it so hectic?’ Gerald Winslow asked, smiling.

  ‘I’ve been to Newmarket to inspect a new yearling.’ Randal sipped a glass of chilled Chablis. ‘Then to the casino to check on the weekend accounts.’

  ‘Don’t you ever take any time off?’ Edward asked sourly.

  ‘Not unless there’s something better to do,’ he replied. ‘I work hard and I play hard.’

  ‘That’s why you’re so successful,’ Gerald put in smoothly.

  ‘Precisely,’ said Randal with a wry smile. ‘Besides—where money is concerned—’ he looked back at Edward and gave a cool smile ‘—I don’t trust accountants.’

  There was a little silence.

  ‘Oh?’ Edward asked tightly.

  ‘I never give them the chance to juggle the books,’ Randal drawled softly. ‘Particularly not when I’ve told them I’ll be hosting a ball and drinking too much champagne. That’s exactly the moment they’re likely to rip me off.’

  Edward flushed angrily. ‘You must employ crooked accountants. We’re not all like that, I assure you.’

  ‘The only accountant I trust,’ he drawled, ‘is the one I’ve just checked up on and found innocent.’

  Gerald Winslow laughed. ‘Well, I admire your hard-headed business attitude, but I’m afraid I’m hopeless at figures. I have no choice but to trust my accountant.’

  Randal smiled slowly, eyes pinning Edward to his chair. ‘How very interesting.’

  Lucy brooded for the rest of lunch, hating Randal for his deliberate insinuations. He didn’t even know Edward. How dared he make such blatant statements?

  It’s just because he wants to poison Edward in my eyes. He’s trying to make me stop loving and trusting Edward. Talk about ruthless! Was there nothing Randal would not stoop to?

&nbs
p; After lunch, Lucy made coffee, took it in to them, and excused herself with cool politeness. At least if she washed up in the kitchen, she wouldn’t have to listen to any more of his insults and insinuations.

  The door opened fifteen minutes later, and she turned to see him in the doorway.

  ‘Yes?’ she asked flatly, looking him up and down.

  ‘I wish you’d say that to me more often,’ he drawled mockingly.

  ‘What do you want?’ she demanded, turning her back on him.

  He closed the door, walking towards her as she stood at the sink. ‘I’m leaving shortly. I have to drive back to Newmarket to put in a bid for that yearling.’ He stood close to her, hands thrust in grey trouser pockets. ‘I came to thank you for lunch.’

  ‘I didn’t invite you,’ she shrugged, washing the last saucepan. ‘It makes no difference to me.’ She ran the saucepan under the hot tap to cleanse it of bubbles. It shone. She put it on the draining-board, picked up a tea-towel, dried her hands.

  Turning, she gasped, finding him right behind her, standing so close his body almost touched hers, and the frisson of excitement that leapt through her was electrifying.

  Hot colour surged up her throat and face. There was a brief, bitter silence. ‘Don’t try to kiss me, Randal,’ she heard her voice say, almost hoarse. ‘My boyfriend is in the other room—remember?’

  ‘Was he jealous,’ he drawled, ‘when he realised I’d been kissing you?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, flustered by his nearness.

  ‘How jealous was he, Lucy? And how angry? You don’t look to me like a woman who’s been passionately kissed since Edward arrived. I’ve been watching for signs, but of course—’

  ‘Edward and I aren’t like that,’ she snapped, hating him. ‘I’ve told you that before.’

  ‘So you have,’ he drawled. ‘And the more I get to know you, the less it makes sense. He professes to love you. But I’ll bet he hasn’t even tried to take you to bed yet.’

  Her eyes flashed like green fire. ‘Get out!’

  ‘If he’d made love to you,’ he murmured, ‘you wouldn’t respond so fiercely to my touch. But you’re going insane with frustration, aren’t you, Lucy?’ His eyes slid to her mouth, his voice taunting. ‘You can’t help yourself...you go up like a touch-paper whenever I kiss you—’

  ‘Get away from me!’ she whispered, heart thudding with abrupt violence.

  His hands slid down her shoulder, evoking shivers. ‘You’re an unexploded bomb waiting to be detonated. The thought of how that sexy, greedy body of yours will respond when I get you into bed is enough to take the roof of my head off.’

  ‘If you ever try to kiss me again, I’ll show you just how much I detest the sight of you!’

  ‘I’ll enjoy making you eat your words.’

  ‘And I’ll enjoy making you eat yours!’ She struggled not to show her excitement. ‘Edward’s buying me a ring next week. Our engagement is official. He told me so—’

  ‘It wasn’t official before?’ he cut in shrewdly, frowning.

  Lucy flushed scarlet, feeling sick as she realised what she had inadvertently told him. ‘I—I mean—’

  ‘He made it official today when he realised he had competition,’ he guessed, eyes narrowed and hard. ‘Well, well, well. The more I hear about this passionate love-affair of yours, the less I like it.’

  ‘Shut up!’ she said hotly, trying to struggle out of his grip.

  ‘What do you see in him?’ His upper lip curled in a sneer. ‘A fiery temptress like you. He’s a milksop. Certainly no match for that temper of yours.’

  Stung, she said, ‘I don’t even have a temper!’

  He laughed in her face.

  ‘It’s true! I only lose my temper when you’re around! You make me so furious I can’t control myself! You make me want to—’ She broke off with a hoarse little gasp, staring into his mocking face.

  ‘Don’t say another word,’ he said thickly. ‘Just do it.’ And then his mouth closed over hers in a brief, searing kiss that made her head spin.

  ‘No...’ she moaned in rising madness against his hot mouth.

  ‘Oh, yes...’ he said thickly, hands sliding to cup her breasts and make her gasp and stare wild-eyed. ‘Show me, Lucy. Show me just what I make you want to do!’

  Heart pounding, she felt a reckless urge to do just that, and it flared in her as his hard mouth closed over hers, making her wind her arms around his neck and kiss him fiercely. He made a rough sound of excitement, arms tightening around her. His hard body pressed further against hers and the excitement swept her off her feet, her hands moving to his hair, tangling hungrily in it, her mouth open passionately beneath his. Danger and desire flooded her veins as she found herself unable to resist that kiss, that mouth, those long hard hands as they moved over her body, making her moan, suddenly aware that she needed this, hated him, hated herself, but needed it, this total blanking out of everything in life, everything but that hard, compelling mouth on hers...

  When he released her, she was gasping for breath, her heart beating so violently that she was shaking.

  Desperate to prove she hated him, she deliberately wiped his kiss away with the back of her hand.

  ‘A passionate gesture,’ Randal drawled mockingly. ‘In keeping with your temperament.’ He stroked one long finger over her mouth, smiling lazily. ‘I’ll buy that yearling and call it Miss Lucy’s Passion.’ He turned and strolled coolly from the room.

  The door closed behind him, just as she was tempted by sheer rage to throw one of the saucepans after him. How dared he come here and insult Edward, make vile insinuations, force her to accept another of his hateful kisses? Certainly she wouldn’t let him drip poison in her ear about the man she loved and wanted to marry. Edward had been her betrothed since the day she was born. Nothing could prevent her finding happiness with him. Nothing and nobody—not even Randal Marlborough.

  The next day, Lucy spent a fun-filled but exhausting day at the nursery, looking after all the three-year-olds, who had spent the weekend with their families and were like mad dogs let off the leash, running around pouring paint over each other and trying to bury Lucy in the sandpit.

  Walking home, she wondered how many children she would have. A long white sports car pulled up slowly beside her and her heart missed a beat. It shot ahead, stopped, and Randal stepped out. Lucy angrily tried to walk past with her nose in the air, but he blocked her path, forcing her to look up the expensive black business suit to his wicked, mocking smile.

  ‘What do you want?’ she demanded crossly.

  He smiled. ‘I bought the yearling. I wondered if you’d like to come and see it.’

  Interest sparkled in her green eyes. She was very tempted, watching him through her lashes, knowing she wanted to accept the invitation, knowing also that it would lead her to dangerous waters.

  ‘We’ll drive down to Newmarket now,’ he told her with customary arrogance.

  ‘No,’ she said flatly, ‘I have to get home. My father will be expecting me and—’

  ‘He won’t,’ Randal drawled with a lazy smile. ‘I’ve already been to your house. He gives his blessing and hopes you have a lovely time.’

  ‘What!’ She stared at him, shocked.

  ‘He’s very keen that we should be friends,’ Randal murmured. ‘It would upset him if you refused my overtures.’

  Her face coloured. ‘That’s blackmail!’

  ‘Exactly,’ he drawled and took her hand. ‘Now get in the car.’

  ‘I will not!’ she said, temper rising.

  ‘I’ll pick you up and put you in if you don’t.’ Randal arched a cool brow, unsmiling suddenly, and as she looked at him she felt a quiver of fear, aware again of his powerful determination and how uncompromising he was when he wanted something. He simply went ahead and took it, knocking obstacles out of his way.

  Her lips tightened. ‘I’m not dressed for it. I’ve been at the kindergarten all day and—’

  ‘I think you
look lovely,’ he said softly, blue eyes moving over her faded blue jeans and little blue camisole top. ‘Besides—I want you to do as you’re told. Get in the car and stop arguing. This excursion has paternal approval—remember?’

  Lucy flushed angrily, aware she was trapped. ‘Very well. I’ll come to Newmarket with you. But only because you’ve made it impossible for me to refuse.’

  She got in the car and they drove down to Newmarket. It was four o’clock, a sunny day, and, as they left London behind, Lucy began to enjoy the drive. Randal was relaxed at the wheel, his mouth a cool smile of triumph. Bach lilted through the car like pure sunlight.

  Randal owned a vast stable on the outskirts of the racing fraternity in Newmarket. Large wrought-iron gates kept people out. A guard occupied a gatehouse and the stone walls surrounding the land were littered with barbed wire and broken glass. Various red signs threatened all sorts of awful fates if anyone tried to break in.

  ‘You’re very hot on security, aren’t you?’ Lucy commented, casting him a curious little look through her lashes.

  ‘My horses are worth a lot of money,’ he said coolly as they drove in through the gates and approached the stable complex of buildings. ‘Several of them have won major races this season.’

  He parked the car, and they got out. The main house rose before them in old red stone. Stable blocks were everywhere, surrounded by fields. Birds were singing in the late afternoon sun; the air was fresh and clean.

  ‘This way.’ Randal took her wrist, leading her across the yard towards a stable block. The scent of horses was intoxicating. A few trainers stood at the other end of the block, talking. They jumped as they saw Randal.

  ‘Mr Marlborough, sir.’ An Irishman in jodhpurs and bodywarmer came over to them. ‘We didn’t know you were coming today, sir...’

  ‘Spur of the moment, Heaphy,’ Randal said coolly. ‘Bring Miss Lucy’s Passion out, please.’

  ‘Right away, sir.’ He moved away to the seventh wooden door, opened it and clicked his tongue softly while leading out a magnificent yearling.

  Lucy stared at it with rapturous eyes. ‘Oh, it’s beautiful...’