Purchased For Revenge. Julia James

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ not French either,’ she returned, still in that language.

      ‘No,’ he agreed, but said no more.

      Eve knew why. Like her, he did not want this moment to be encumbered by nationalities, identities, categories and classifications. Like her, he wanted it to be—pure. That was the word that formed in her mind. Pure.

      Out here, in the clean, fresh air, with the wind from the sea soughing so gently in the tall pine trees, in the clear moonlit night, it was nothing to do with the luxury world of the hotel, with its high-stakes casino, its three-star Michelin restaurant, its marina for multimillion-pound yachts, and its car park full of deluxe cars for deluxe people.

      Nothing to do with the world of her father. Beyond the reach of his long, malign shadow.

      She knew she was being foolish. She couldn’t escape from being who she was, what she was. Nor could this man here, who might possibly be some kind of impostor, interloper, but who was, she knew, with the deep recognition and experience of the world she had been brought up in, one of the rich men of the world.

      But for this short space of time they would both escape from who they were, what they were.

      ‘Why did you follow me here?’ She spoke in French still. She didn’t quite know why.

      He smiled again, not a mere indentation of his mouth, but almost a laugh, lifting his face, showing the whiteness of his teeth.

      ‘No Frenchwoman would ask that!’ The mockery was there again, but it was conspiratorial, not cruel.

      She gave an answering, unwilling smile, acknowledging her mistake.

      ‘And no woman,’ he went on—and his voice had changed, the timbre deepening, sending the heat seeping through her veins again, ‘as beautiful as you need ask that question.’

      For a moment he held her eyes, then hers flickered away, uncertain. As they did so the breeze freshened over her bare arms, and she gave a slight shiver.

      He was there immediately. He stripped off his tuxedo jacket and draped it around her shoulders. The warmth from his body was still in the silk lining. Eve felt her throat tighten. It was so intimate a gesture. She felt her heart-rate flutter again.

      His hands were still on her shoulders as he stood half behind her. She twisted her head back.

      ‘Thank you.’ Her voice was low, almost breathless.

      His face was close. Far too close. Far, far too close. The world disappeared. Simply ceased to exist. Only his eyes existed, looking deep into hers. Moonlight reflected in their depths. A pulse beat at her throat. She felt her hand move, reach up, and with the lightest touch her fingers traced his jaw. She felt it tense beneath her feathering touch. Saw the pupils of his eyes flare. Heard the intake of breath in his throat. Caught the heady, masculine scent of him.

      Then her hand fluttered free, and her mouth dried at what she had just done. Touched a complete stranger like that. Instinctively, impulsively, she pulled away, stepping forward to seize the balustrade again.

      ‘I’m sorry!’ The apology rushed from her in a low, abashed voice. Her head lowered, and she gazed unseeingly down at the wavelets lapping on the rocks below the terrace. She bit her lip.

      ‘You apologise?’ She could hear his accent. It shivered down her spine, rippling through her blood. Setting her body resonating finely, so finely…

      He had stepped close to her again, was standing behind her now. And once again she felt the pressure of his hands on her shoulders, through the fine material of the jacket he’d draped around her. The pressure seemed to anchor her to the earth, the turning earth.

      ‘There is no need to apologise.’ She could hear amusement in his voice, but something else ran beneath the amusement.

      He turned her around. Her back was against the balustrade, and he was standing right in front of her. His hands slipped to either side of her face, long, strong fingers sliding into her hair. He was tall, taller than her, looking down at her. His hair was sable in the night.

      She gazed at him. Helpless. Motionless.

      She did not breathe. Did not do anything, anything at all, that might break this moment. Might shatter the reality of what was happening. She was standing here, in the moonlight, by the sea’s edge, and this man, whom she did not know, could never know, held her face in his hands and looked down at her.

      He kissed her.

      She saw his head start to lower, realised in that fraction of a second what he was going to do. Realised, in that same fraction of a second, that she would let him. That she would rather die than not let this man kiss her here, now, like this, in this moment out of time, out of reality. Out of sanity.

      She closed her eyes.

      Closed her eyes and let him kiss her. A stranger whom she would never know, whom she could never know. A stranger she would walk away from. She would never have this moment again.

      But she would have it now. Just for these few, precious seconds. An eye-blink in time.

      But hers now. Here.

      And nothing, no one, could take it away from her.

      Her lips parted.

      He kissed her slowly, like honey, grazing her with a velvet touch, moving over her mouth like softest silk.

      Then his head lifted away, his hands dropped from her face.

      She opened her eyes.

      His face was different somehow, his eyes different.

      And at that moment something tremored through her. The world went still again. So still.

      Then, into the stillness and the silence, she heard the sound of a motor boat intrude, coming out of the marina on the far side of the hotel and heading out to sea, towards one of the rings of lights that marked the presence of a motor yacht moored in deep water.

      Her eyes flared. Reality flooded back. The world started up again.

      ‘I have to go!’

      She slipped out from where she was, undraping the tuxedo jacket as she did so, and thrusting it towards him.

      ‘Wait—’

      It was a command. She obeyed. Her breath was tight in her chest.

      ‘I have to go,’ she repeated.

      Her hand lifted, almost as if to reach to touch his sleeve, so short a distance away. Then, her eyes flaring again, she whirled around, gathered her skirts, and ran.

      Like Cinderella from her ball.

      But leaving behind no glass slipper.

      Alexei watched her go. This time he let her run. He didn’t want to. He wanted to stride after her and seize her back. Stop her running. Keep her.

      Hold her.

      Fold his arms around her and hold her very СКАЧАТЬ