And the Bride Wore Black Page 3

  ‘No, I can’t leave you, I—’

  ‘You will leave now.’ He turned the full force of his piercingly cold eyes on Joanie—she shrank back slightly and the numbness that had taken hold of Fabia melted as a tide of furious rage washed over her, bringing her snapping upright on her heels.

  ‘Don’t you dare talk to her like that. You have no right—’

  ‘Don’t talk to me of rights, Miss Grant,’ he snarled softly. ‘You lost me a very important business deal with that little act you put on at my reception, so don’t talk of rights.’ He turned to Joanie, his manner milder. ‘You can go, Miss Fletcher. I have no intention of harming your friend in any way but I am determined to speak to her, and in private.’

  ‘Fabia?’

  ‘Go on, Joanie.’ She pushed her gently towards the waiting lift. ‘I’ll be all right.’

  As the doors closed on Joanie’s white, troubled face Fabia looked up at Alexander Cade, her eyes huge in her pale face, and in the same instant he moved forward, taking her in his arms before she had time to protest.

  ‘Well, sweet thing,’ he drawled mockingly, his eyes fiery, ‘as I said, you’ve caught me. Let’s see if the promise in that delectable body holds true.’

  When his mouth fastened on hers she was too surprised at first to feel anything but furious outrage, and as she struggled helplessly in his iron grip she was aware of the wicked chuckle deep in his throat as he moulded her softness into his body. She wasn’t quite sure when a subtle awareness of him as a man—and what a man!—crept into her consciousness, but when it did she renewed her efforts, struggling violently as a warm sweet languor threatened to take over her limbs.

  ‘Stop it.’ He raised his mouth a fraction to admonish her. ‘You asked for this—enjoy it.’

  Her words of protest were lost as the firm hard lips took her mouth again and she suddenly realised he wouldn’t let her go till she submitted. As she forced herself to become still in his arms the dark head raised again, and this time there was a glow of satisfaction in the tawny eyes.

  ‘Good girl.’ His voice was bitingly mocking. ‘I can see you’re catching on already.’

  ‘You’re a brute.’ Her voice was annoyingly breathless but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t remember when a kiss had affected her like that.

  ‘Now, now, no insults please.’ He took a step backwards and smiled tauntingly. ‘You had a head start on me, after all. I seem to remember you’ve kissed me twice already?’

  ‘That was different.’ She glared at him angrily as her shoulders squared for battle. ‘And you know it.’

  ‘The hell I do!’ There was only anger in his voice now.

  She glared at him helplessly. ‘I suppose you’d better come in.’

  ‘How kind.’ He followed her into the small lounge, his eyes shooting to the window and then back to her angry face. ‘And just remember we’re three floors up now. The windows are hardly conducive to flight, unless you’re a bird, that is, of the feathered kind.’ There was a hard thread of steel in the contemptuous drawl but nothing could have stopped Fabia’s rage from spilling over as she looked into the handsome cruel face.

  ‘I suppose you think you’ve been very clever!’ She took a step forward as she spoke, her voice a low hiss and her eyes glittering blue fire, but he merely smiled slowly, totally unperturbed.

  ‘No more than usual.’ He let his eyes wander down her body in taunting contempt. ‘But it’s you who should be getting the Oscar, isn’t it? Such a riveting performance and so well executed. You had us all on the edge of our seats.’

  She glared at him furiously. ‘Did I, indeed?’

  ‘You sure did.’ The slanted eyes fixed firmly on to hers. ‘And none more so than Mr Hymes.’

  ‘Mr Hymes?’ She stared at him blankly. ‘I don’t remember anyone called Mr Hymes.’

  ‘No?’ He smiled thinly. ‘Well, Mr and Mrs Hymes certainly will remember you for a long, long time. Your little charade cost me a vital business contract and irreplaceable good will. I’d been setting that deal up for six months and you blew it in as many minutes. They are as strait-laced as they come and didn’t appreciate your particular brand of...entertainment.’

  ‘Oh.’ She tried to remember exactly what she had said and then winced as she did so. ‘I see.’

  ‘I see?’ He glared at her. ‘Is that the best you can do?’

  ‘Look, I can explain—’ Fabia stopped suddenly. No, she couldn’t explain, not even to herself. What madness had possessed her to take on someone as powerful as Alexander Cade?

  ‘I’m almost tempted to let you try,’ he said smoothly.

  He was aware of her discomfiture and loving every minute of it, Fabia thought furiously, her eyes shooting daggers.

  ‘Instead we’ll cut through the nonsense and I’ll tell you what I’ve come for. But not here.’ He glanced round him as though her home was distasteful to him. Which it probably was, she thought bitterly, in view of the indulgent splendour in which he normally lived.

  ‘If you’ve got anything to say to me you say it here and now, Mr Cade,’ Fabia said angrily. ‘And for the record I’m not going anywhere with you. Not now, not ever.’

  ‘Think again.’ The two words were loaded with menance.

  ‘On your bike, mister!’ She would not be intimidated or threatened in her own home. She would not!

  ‘On your bike?’ He repeated her words with a trace of amusement lightening the dark face. ‘It’s been years since I had a bike, Miss Grant,’ he said mockingly.

  ‘Now that I can believe,’ she said stonily. ‘Born with a silver spoon, the original spoiled brat, am I right?’

  ‘Would you believe me if I said no?’ he asked in a tone to match hers, his eyes narrowing as she shook her head firmly. ‘No, I thought not, so I’ll save my breath.’ He walked through to the kitchen, turning off the grill as he did so and peering at the charred remains of the chop. ‘Was that your dinner?’

  ‘This is my dinner, yes,’ she said coldly. ‘Not quite up to your pretentious standards of smoked caviare and oysters maybe, but it suits me.’

  ‘What a nasty prickly little inverted snob you are, Miss Grant,’ he said slowly. ‘Are you always this obnoxious?’ His eyes wandered in insulting appraisal over her slender figure, resting for a moment on the full high breasts before continuing up to her hot angry face. ‘Such a shame, when the exterior promises so much,’ he added meaningfully.

  ‘I don’t promise anything,’ she said furiously, longing to reach up and smack the coolness from his handsome face but not quite having the courage. How dared he? How dared he? He had done nothing but criticise her home since he came in and now he was doing the same to her.

  ‘Look, it’s obvious you think this place is a dump, so why don’t you just leave?’ she said flatly, forcing all emotion out of her voice by sheer willpower. ‘You’ve made your point, you’re omnipotent, the all-powerful one, you found me against all the odds and I’m suitably chastised.’ Her hand moved unconsciously to her bruised lips. ‘Can’t we leave it at that?’

  ‘I haven’t made my point at all,’ he said after a long moment of silence. ‘And I do not think your flat is a...dump, I think you so quaintly termed it.’ He glanced round the light painted walls and the windowsill full of flowering plants before turning to inflict the full gaze of his piercing eyes on her again. ‘And I repeat, I wish to speak to you in private. That is no slur on your home, merely the wishes of a hungry man who wants to discuss a particular matter in private at the same time as filling his stomach. I take it you wouldn’t like to cook me dinner?’ She glared at him silently. ‘No, I thought not.’ He smiled coldly. ‘Then you take the alternative. Yes?’

  She still didn’t speak.

  ‘We can either do this the hard way or the easy way, Miss Grant,’ he said after a full minute of taut silence had elapsed. ‘I am not going to abduct you if you allow me to buy you dinner, I am not going to threaten you or mistreat you in any way, in fact I am not g
oing to deal with you at all as you deserve.’

  The last was said so matter-of-factly that for a moment she missed its import, and then she flushed angrily as his words registered. ‘How do I know I can trust you?’ she asked slowly. ‘That you won’t try to kiss me again?’

  ‘You don’t.’ He leant lazily against the door as he spoke, his tawny eyes gleaming oddly. ‘But this is what is called taking the consequences, Miss Grant. Unpleasant, maybe, but if you play games then you have to accept the forfeit. Understand?’

  ‘I don’t understand any of this,’ she snapped angrily as she snatched the grill off the stove and placed it in water, opening the kitchen window to let the pungent smell of burnt meat fade. ‘Not any of it!’

  ‘No, maybe not,’ he said complacently. ‘It’s for me to explain and you to listen. Now, get your coat and we’ll go. Swinton should be back with the car by now.’

  She marched past him, through the lounge and into the bedroom without a word. ‘Look on it as a bonus, Miss Grant.’ The hated voice followed her. ‘You’ll be fed and watered.’

  ‘I’m not a dog,’ she said stiffly as she marched out of the bedroom with her coat slung over her arm, and then blushed hotly at the look on his face as his eyes ran over her again.

  ‘That you aren’t, Fabia Grant,’ he agreed softly, ‘that you aren’t.’ His gaze fastened lingeringly on her swollen lips.

  As they left the flat Brian was just entering his, next door, a bottle of cheap wine under his arm. The small eyes took in the situation as Alexander Cade took her arm. The feel of his hand through the soft material of her dress was disconcerting and she had to stop herself sighing audibly with relief when he loosened his hold as they waited for the lift, helping her on with her coat without speaking, his face expressionless.

  Within moments they were downstairs in the somewhat dour entrance hall and as she walked by his side towards the big glass doors she found her legs were shaking along with a distinct trembling in the pit of her stomach, and it wasn’t all due to fright, she acknowledged silently. Away from the affected, subservient hangers-on who were part of his entourage and the opulent sophisticated surroundings in which she had seen him, the sheer maleness of the man came across in a virile potency that was almost tangible. He was tall, very tall, and the big black overcoat that he wore made him seem even larger, his shoulders broad and powerful under the expensive cloth. His hair was brushing the collar of the coat, gleaming with rich life against the dark material, and he exuded a sensual, intoxicating, dominant mastery that made her feel helplessly feminine even as she chided herself for her weakness. He wasn’t anything like Robin. As the thought came unbidden into her mind her footsteps faltered and his hand came out instantly to steady her. ‘All right?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ She flinched from his touch and his hand fell immediately to his side, but apart from a slight tightening of the hard mouth he displayed no emotion at all, his face closed against her. He was suddenly a different man, icy and very distant.

  ‘The car’s over here.’ She looked across the dark road to where a magnificent Bentley was waiting regally in the shadows, the man he had called Swinton sitting in the driving seat. ‘Shall we...?’ He took her arm again as they crossed the street and she forced herself to display no reaction to his touch even as her mouth dried with a mixture of fear and excitement. What on earth had she got herself into? He was right out of her league in every way. And that kiss!

  ‘Now, Miss Grant.’ As she seated herself in the spacious interior he slid in beside her, tapping on the glass that separated them from Swinton and indicating to him to drive on when he turned round. ‘A couple of things we need to get straight before I take you for a meal.’

  ‘You needn’t take me for a meal,’ she protested quickly, ‘I really don’t—’

  ‘The first thing.’ It was just as though she hadn’t spoken, and she subsided against the soft leather, her senses reeling as she caught a whiff of deliciously expensive aftershave. ‘I shall call you Fabia and you will call me Alex. OK?’

  ‘OK.’ Her voice was weak and she heard it with a trace of anger sharpening her mind. Don’t go all soft and pathetic now, Fabia, she told herself tightly. You’re going to need all your wits about you tonight. ‘And the other thing?’ she said more loudly, her voice firm. Sexual magnetism was wasted on her!

  ‘The other thing is that, in spite of having every reason for the contrary, I am not your enemy, Fabia. Got it?’ The sound of her name on his lips caused her heart to pound crazily but she kept her face bland as she nodded quietly, not trusting herself to speak. ‘I don’t know what prompted you to act as you did and I won’t pretend I like it—’ the deep voice harshened a little ‘—but I’m not here tonight for revenge so you can relax a little.’ He glanced down at her hands bunched in two tight fists in her lap, and as she caught his glance hot colour raced across her cheekbones in humiliating awareness of how easily he read her mind. She hated him, she really did!

  ‘What are you here for, then?’ she asked stiffly. ‘There must be hundreds of women all too ready to fall into your lap, Mr—Alex.’

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ he agreed laconically. ‘Unfortunately wealth is a powerful aphrodisiac to certain women, Fabia, which can prove...irritating at times.’

  ‘Can it?’ she asked cynically, her gaze resting on the classic profile as he stared straight ahead. She doubted if he had ever needed any help in that area in his life.

  ‘It can.’ He glanced at her, catching her wide blue eyes with his sharp gaze. ‘Now correct me if I’m wrong but I rather suspect that, although you may have many failings, that is not one of them?’ His voice was full of mocking amusement.

  She nodded slowly. ‘I’ve nothing against money and what it can buy, it’s only the love of money that I find repellent.’

  ‘Quite.’ The light brown gaze intensified. ‘You are quite right in your assumption that I was born into wealth, as it happens—extreme wealth. However, I was not spoiled.’ She lowered her eyes but not before he had seen the disbelieving gleam in their dark blue depths. ‘You don’t believe me?’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ she answered frankly. ‘You probably wouldn’t know what a normal childhood was, so how can you say for sure that you weren’t spoiled? And your lifestyle now is so outrageous, I don’t think—’

  ‘Outrageous?’ He looked at her keenly. ‘Do you really believe everything you read in the sordid little tabloids? I would have thought a woman of your intelligence would have kept an open mind on such sensationalism, but maybe that was before?’

  ‘Before?’ Her voice expressed her puzzlement. ‘Before what?’

  ‘Before whoever hurt you so badly left.’ As the hot colour flared under her high cheekbones he turned away to look out of the window. ‘I’m not ashamed of my wealth, Fabia,’ he continued quickly before she had a chance to speak. ‘I make it work for me and I use it wisely, but because of the amount I have any anonymity is merely a pipe-dream.’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ she said sceptically. ‘Do you really expect me to believe that all those fabulous parties and different women for each day of the week are a figment of the Press’s imagination? And you love every minute.’ Her voice was bitter now. ‘You know you do.’

  ‘I don’t expect you to believe anything,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s not important anyway. I was merely trying to give you a little background information in view of what I intend to ask you later. One thing.’ He paused and looked at her hard. ‘I was not spoilt as a child, not at all. I don’t know if you are aware of it but my parents were killed when I was three months old and I inherited everything. I was brought up by my paternal grandmother, who is a quite exceptional old lady. If you met her you would understand.’ He moved to the edge of his seat as the car drew to a smooth halt. ‘We’ve arrived—shall we...?’

  ‘Please.’ She caught hold of his coat-sleeve as he opened the door and he turned in surprise. ‘Stop the cat-and-mouse game. What do you want from me?’

 
‘All in good time.’ He climbed out of the car and moved round to open her door, helping her out into the busy London street carefully. ‘Give us a couple of hours, Swinton.’ Swinton nodded blandly and the big car nosed gently into the traffic again to the usual blaring of horns from impatient city traffic.

  The restaurant was quietly elegant and discreetly lit, full of secluded alcoves and attentive waiters who greeted Alex with an almost reverential respect that he seemed quite oblivious to. But he would be, wouldn’t he? Fabia thought bitterly; he was used to this every day of his life. ‘Your usual table, Mr Cade?’ The manager appeared from nowhere, almost touching his forelock as he escorted them to a small table, out of sight of the general diners, already set for two with a large bowl of hothouse orchids gracing the snow-white linen cloth. Fabia sat down gingerly, hardly daring to breathe.

  ‘An aperitif?’ Alex looked across at her, the manager standing to attention by his side, and she suddenly rebelled against the ostentation, the ostentation that had trapped and degraded her all those years ago.

  ‘No, thank you.’ She smiled sweetly up at the waiter hovering at the manager’s elbow. ‘Could I have a glass of water, please?’

  ‘A glass of water?’ The young waiter was open-mouthed but the manager stepped in smoothly, his voice expressionless and his face bland.

  ‘Certainly, miss. And your usual champagne cocktail, Mr Cade?’

  Alex hadn’t taken his eyes off her during the little exchange and now he smiled slowly, his face enigmatically intent. ‘I think I’ll join Miss Grant, Xavier. Could I have ice and lemon in mine, please?’

  ‘Er—yes, Mr Cade, certainly.’ From the delighted expression on the waiter’s face Fabia assumed it wasn’t often the young lad had seen his prestigious superior at a loss for words but it was happening now. Xavier opened his mouth to speak, closed it again and then backed away silently, clicking his fingers at the waiter who set a gold menu-card in front of them before quickly following his boss.

  Fabia opened her menu silently, a pink flush on her cheeks, and glanced down the contents with a feeling of apprehension. French. She might have known. She glanced up to find Alex’s eyes still fixed on her. ‘Would you like me to order for you? There are some dishes that are always exceptional here.’ He was giving her an easy get-out but she didn’t take it, her eyes steady on his as she stared into their tawny depths. He knew. He knew she couldn’t speak French.