The Secret He Must Claim. Chantelle Shaw

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       CHAPTER THREE

      ELIN WEIGHED NEXT to nothing, Cortez discovered as he sprang forwards and caught her before she hit the floor. Her fragility was the first thing that had struck him when he’d seen her standing at the front of the church. Was her slender figure the result of dieting to be fashionably thin, or was there a more sinister reason? he wondered as he strode into the library with her in his arms.

      Two days ago, pictures of her being carried out of a London nightclub had been plastered over the front pages of the tabloids. There had been speculation that she’d taken cocaine or another recreational drug, popular on the club scene. Is this proof that Elin has resumed her party lifestyle? had been one headline.

      Cortez had been annoyed with himself for pandering to his curiosity and buying the newspaper to read the full story. The references to Elin’s party girl reputation of a year ago, before she had mysteriously dropped off the paparazzi’s radar for a few months, had made him shove the paper into the rubbish bin in disgust.

      What the hell had possessed him to have sex with her when he’d unwittingly gatecrashed her party? The answer felt like a punch in his gut. The same punch that had made him catch his breath when he’d watched her dancing at her party. Desire. Uncontrollable, ferocious desire had shot through him like a lightning bolt.

      Unbidden memories pushed into his mind of Elin wearing a low-cut red dress that barely covered her pert breasts. Her pale blonde hair fell in a silken curtain around her shoulders, framing her exquisite face with its elfin features and a wide mouth that was entirely sensual. The moment he’d seen her he’d been unable to take his eyes off her. Even knowing what she was—a spoilt little rich girl who cared about nothing other than where the next party was being held and—if the press stories about her were true—where she could get her next fix—hadn’t lessened his hunger for her.

      It was a little over twelve months ago when he had come to England after he’d received the result of a DNA test which confirmed he was Ralph Saunderson’s son. Ralph had invited him to Cuckmere Hall, and Cortez had gone because he could not deny he was curious to meet his biological father, who had abandoned his mother when she was pregnant. He had already discovered that Ralph was wealthy and the Saundersons were an old aristocratic family.

      Driving through the vast Cuckmere estate on his way up to the mansion, Cortez had felt bitter remembering how his mother had worked herself literally into an early grave. Thirty-five years ago, Marisol Ramos had been pregnant and alone, abandoned by her lover and shunned by her family in Spain. She had managed to establish a small vineyard in Andalucía and from almost as soon as Cortez could walk he had helped his mother tend the vines and harvest the grapes. The bodega had produced a fine sherry, but it couldn’t compete with the big sherry producers in the sherry triangle in south-west Spain. Life had been hard, and when his mother had died at the age of forty-two Cortez had been convinced that she’d simply felt too exhausted to carry on living.

      When he had finally met Ralph Saunderson the only emotion he’d felt was anger that his father had consigned his mother to a life of poverty and hardship. At the time of his visit to Cuckmere Hall the English press had been full of stories about Ralph’s adopted son and daughter’s jet set lifestyle, in particular Elin’s wild partying. But the pictures of her in the newspapers and her photo on Ralph’s desk that had caught Cortez’s attention had not prepared him for the impact she had on him when he saw her dancing at her birthday party.

      He jerked his mind from the past as Elin’s eyelashes fluttered open. For a few seconds she stared at him with her dark blue eyes that had reminded him of sapphires when he’d danced with her a year ago. He recalled how she had pressed her body up close to his. As close as she was now, except that then she had been soft and pliant in his arms and she’d parted her lush mouth in an invitation he had been unable to resist.

      That should have been a warning, he thought grimly. He never had a problem resisting women. He was always in control and when he took a mistress it was always on his terms, with rules and boundaries established first. Falling into bed with Elin had broken every rule he’d imposed on himself since he’d fallen in love with Alandra in his early twenties and she had shattered his illusions about love and his own judgement.

      ‘What are you doing? Put me down.’

      Cortez heard panic in Elin’s voice and he felt a stab of irritation when he lowered her onto the sofa and she immediately recoiled from him as if he were infected with a contagious disease. She hadn’t behaved like that a year ago, he brooded. She’d been all over him then. He walked across to the desk, where the butler had left a tray of drinks, and tried to dismiss the memory of Elin sprawled on a bed with her red dress rucked up around her waist and her pale thighs spread wide open.

      ‘Here,’ he said curtly, returning to hand her a glass of brandy.

      She СКАЧАТЬ