The Brazilian Tycoon's Mistress. Fiona Hood-Stewart

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СКАЧАТЬ stood sideways, talking to an old gentleman near the open fireplace. Long and lithe, the curve of her breast subtly etched under the sleeveless silk top— His thoughts were abruptly interrupted.

      ‘Ah, Mr Santander, I believe?’ A very distinguished, rake-thin woman in her mid-sixties, dressed in a smart black cocktail dress with a large diamond leaf pinned on her left breast, moved towards him. He raised her hand to his lips.

      ‘Good evening, Lady Drusilla, it is most good of you to have me.’

      ‘Not at all. Thank you so much for the lovely flowers. Quite unnecessary, I assure you,’ she murmured, taking in every detail of his person. ‘Now, do come in and meet the others. You’ve met Araminta, of course, and this is Colonel Rathbone and Mrs Rathbone—they live not far down the road, at the old vicarage—and this is Miss Blackworth.’ He shook hands politely with an elderly lady in a nondescript purple dress and a three-tier string of pearls before turning to meet what must be the vicar. ‘Vicar, may I introduce Mr Santander? Our new neighbour at the Manor.’

      Her tone of satisfaction was not lost on Victor and he glanced at her, amused. So Lady Drusilla was enjoying introducing him into local society, was she? At that moment he raised his eyes and met Araminta’s. They held a moment, and he read amusement laced with discomfort and a touch of embarrassment. After exchanging a few words with the balding vicar, he edged his way towards her.

      ‘Good evening.’

      ‘Good evening,’ she replied, smiling politely, disguising her racing pulse, the slight film of perspiration that had formed on her brow the minute she’d sensed he’d entered the room. ‘I hope you won’t be too bored. The country doesn’t provide much in the line of entertainment, I’m afraid.’

      ‘I did not come to the country to seek entertainment,’ he replied, his presence and the scent of that same cologne leaving Araminta deliciously dizzy. ‘In fact, I came here specifically to find peace and quiet. I did not expect to be invited out so soon,’ he added. ‘Still, it is, of course, a great pleasure to meet one’s neighbours. Particularly when they are so…agreeable.’ He gave her an appraising look that left her feeling strangely feminine and desirable, something she hadn’t felt in ages.

      ‘What can I get you to drink?’ she said quickly.

      ‘A Scotch and water, please.’

      Glad for the excuse to conceal her perturbed feelings, Araminta busied herself with the drink. What on earth was wrong with her? He wasn’t anything special. Just a neighbour.

      Victor watched as she fixed his drink. A beautiful woman with tons of sex appeal. She probably had a husband. He wondered where that husband was. Odd that she seemed so shy for a married woman. Or maybe she was recently divorced. That might explain the reticence.

      The thought was strangely appealing. Then with an inner shrug he accepted the drink and prepared to amuse himself for an evening.

      From the opposite end of the table Araminta watched her mother grilling Victor Santander and admired his polite, concise answers that gave little away. But, oh, what she would have given for this evening not to have taken place! By the time coffee had been drunk, after-dinner drinks consumed and the better part of the guests had taken their leave, she was only too ready to usher him out through the door and send him off to his car.

      ‘This has been a most pleasant evening,’ he remarked, eyeing her again in that same assessing manner that left her slightly breathless. ‘Could I persuade you to join me for dinner tomorrow at the Manor? After all, we haven’t had a moment to go over the insurance papers.’

      ‘No, we haven’t,’ Araminta admitted, fumbling for words. It was very unlike her to be so—so what? Aware of herself? Of him, standing so close that it left her feeling tingly all over? What on earth was wrong with her?

      ‘Well? Would you like that? Or would you prefer to dine at the Bells in Sheringdon? I hear they serve a very decent meal.’

      ‘I don’t think I can,’ she said hurriedly, seeing her mother hovering in the hall. ‘Why don’t we speak tomorrow and set up a convenient time to do the papers?’

      ‘As you wish.’ He pressed his lips to her hand. Then, to her amazement, he brushed his lips on the inside of her wrist.

      Araminta withheld a gasp as a shaft of molten heat coursed from her head to her abdomen. With a gulp she snatched her hand away, caught the devilish gleam in his eyes and the amused smile hovering at his lips, and seethed inwardly at her silly reaction. Then he moved, lean and predatory, towards the car.

      Heart thudding, Araminta watched the Bentley purr smoothly off down the drive, then turned with a sigh of relief and stepped inside. This was ridiculous. How could she be put in a state because a man touched her hand? Thank God she’d refused Victor Santander’s offer of dinner if this was the way he affected her.

      She never felt stirrings for any of the men she knew, yet for some inexplicable reason this Brazilian—who was almost a stranger—had touched something deep within her that she’d believed gone for ever. It both frightened and excited her. Her instinct warned her that the less she saw of the man the better. She knew very little of him, but sensed there was something sophisticated and dangerous about him. He was, she told herself firmly, the last person she would want to get involved with. That was if she was thinking of getting involved with anyone—which, of course, she wasn’t.

      ‘Araminta?’

      ‘Yes, Mother, I’m coming.’ Araminta closed the large front door, then made her way back through the hall to the drawing room, where her mother was seated complacently by the fire, twiddling a final glass of champagne.

      ‘Well, I must say that I was most favourably surprised by our new neighbour. Did you know that he went to Eton?’

      ‘No, I didn’t. Mother, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go up to bed,’ she said, passing a hand over her brow. ‘I’ve a bit of a headache.’

      Lady Drusilla, dying to assess the evening further, pursed her lips in annoyance. ‘Oh, very well,’ she muttered.

      And Araminta made good her escape.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      A COUPLE of days later Araminta told herself that any passing attraction she might have felt for her new neighbour was nothing more than that. She’d kept busy, going over and over the proofs of her book, making sure any last-minute errors did not escape her before she sent back the final version to her editor who was having it published at record speed. But today she was taking a break, and going riding.

      As she gave Rania her head and galloped across the Downs, Araminta enjoyed the cool wind in her hair and the sense of freedom that was so far removed from being cooped up in the house, bent over her laptop, as she had been for the past days. But at least the proofs were ready and she could post them off tomorrow.

      Slowing her pace, Araminta became aware of another horse and rider coming out of the copse. She glanced in their direction, noting the equestrian’s good seat and the fine proportions of the horse. Then all at once her heart stood still and she gulped. Surely it couldn’t be Victor Santander?

      She’d been so involved in her work for the past few days that she’d forgotten the phone message he’d left and the insurance that still needed to be dealt with. Now, as the horses approached one another, she braced herself. He would СКАЧАТЬ