Nina Milne – Claimed By The Wealthy Magnate (страница 7)

‘Breakfast. Tomorrow. Faircliffe Hotel. I’ll book a private room.’

‘Thank you.’ She gave a fatalistic lift of her shoulders. ‘I’ll be there.’

* * *

The morning spring sunshine slanted through the windows of the hotel bedroom, reflecting off the mirror where Kaitlin surveyed her reflection. She put the final touches to her discreet layer of make-up—the mask that ensured Lady Kaitlin retained her image of cool perfection.

‘I wish you’d tell me what is going on,’ her sister said from where she sat on the bed.

Not surprisingly, given it was the closest hotel in the neighbourhood, Cora and her husband, Rafael, had stayed in the same hotel as Daniel the previous night. Kaitlin had figured it was better to tell Cora about the meeting rather than have her twin waylay her en route to breakfast. Now she was beginning to think she should just have kept quiet. Cora had insisted on seeing Kaitlin before the meeting, and her dark blue eyes reflected her usual intuitive discern.

Kaitlin met her sister’s gaze in the mirror. ‘Nothing is going on.’

‘Rubbish. I’m your twin, Kait. There are times when I just know, and this is one of them.’

It was true—there was a bond, despite how different she and Cora were. Years before, when the kidnap had occurred, her twin had been distraught, refusing to believe her parents assertion that Kaitlin was staying with friends.

There were times when Kaitlin wished she had rebelled against her parents’ dictate and confided in Cora. But she hadn’t—she’d convinced herself that if she supressed the memories, locked them away, they would become a dream, lose the sharp edges of reality. So she’d done what her parents had instructed her to do—and never told a soul what had happened.

‘What’s done is done, Kaitlin. The important thing now is to forget it ever happened. And never, ever disobey us again.’ The Duchess’s stern voice had hardened further. ‘You understand that no one must ever know. It shows us as weak and, worse, those kidnappers have photos of you that cannot be made public. You will not disgrace the Derwent name.’

‘Kait?’ Cora’s voice was edged with concern, and Kaitlin focused on her twin. ‘Is it something to do with the Prince? Because I’ve wanted to talk to you about Frederick for a long time and...’

Kaitlin had used guile and every conversational trick in the library to avoid the subject. ‘I don’t need to discuss Fredrick.’

‘Well, I do. All I want to say is that before I met Rafael I would have done anything to win Mum and Dad’s approval. Because I thought that was the way to win their love.’

‘I—’

Cora raised a hand. ‘Let me finish. I need to say this. Don’t marry him if you don’t love him. Love has transformed my life and I’d like you to have an opportunity to feel the way I feel.’

And there was the crux of the matter. Lady Kaitlin didn’t do feelings—couldn’t feel, didn’t want to experience the tsunami of emotions that might be unleashed if she allowed feelings in.

‘Cora, I am truly happy for you, and your happiness, but everyone experiences happiness in a different way. My road is different from yours.’ Ignoring the small sigh from her sister, she glanced at her watch. ‘Now, I’ve got to go.’

Suspicion narrowed Cora’s blue eyes. ‘That’s another thing. I’m getting a vibe about Daniel Harrington as well. Remind me why you’re meeting him.’

‘I told you. He wants to discuss a project—and, given the amount he donated to the Derwent Manor restoration fund, I think it’s polite to at least see what he has to say. And he’s linked to the Caversham Foundation.’

That should reassure Cora, bearing in mind her friendship with Ethan and Ruby Caversham.

Kaitlin rose from the dressing table in one graceful move and cast a last look in the mirror, taking comfort in the fact that outwardly no one except her pesky twin would be able to tell her inner self was in turmoil. The dove-grey light wool coat dress was perfect for the occasion. It spoke of an aloof elegance with businesslike overtones that would assure any nosey reporter that this breakfast had no innuendo attached. The intricate hand-stitched ribbon embroidered around the neck and falling across the front gave it the Kaitlin Derwent ‘edge’, and she gave a small satisfied nod.

‘I’ll see you later, Cora. And quit worrying.’

As Kaitlin exited the room and made her way down the carpeted grand staircase of the country hotel her heart pounded her ribcage. It was only the years of practice that kept her upright. Her gaze darted around the lobby in an automatic check for danger even as she focused on keeping her gait unhurried.

She managed a smile for Sophia, the member of staff who manned the small desk that led to the breakfast room. ‘I have a meeting with Daniel Harrington.’

The girl nodded with enthusiasm. ‘Mr Harrington has booked for a private room. Come through here.’

‘Thank you.’ She followed the girl into a small room and braced herself as Daniel rose from the table to greet her.

‘Lady Kaitlin.’

To her relief his voice was formal, but as she met his gaze she saw something flash in his eyes and her own body instinctively responded. Knowing her voice would suffer from lack of breath, she nodded in acknowledgement.

‘Can I get you anything?’ Sophia asked,

‘We’re good, thanks.’

There was silence when the young woman had left.

Get it together, Kaitlin.

If only this man didn’t affect her so much. Her expert eye recognised the quality of the understated light blue silk cotton shirt and suit trousers. But it wasn’t the expensive clothes—it was the raw energy they contained, the solid, muscular bulk of his body, the strength of his craggy features, the square determination of his jaw and the set of his lips.

Lips that had given her such aching pleasure she nearly shivered with the memory.

Get it together now, Kaitlin.

He gestured to the side table pushed against the wall of the room. ‘Help yourself to food.’

Kaitlin contemplated refusing, unsure whether she could physically eat, given the fact her tummy was busy tying itself up in a lanyard of knots. But this was supposedly a business breakfast, and therefore she’d do better to play along. The last thing she wanted was for the hotel staff to notice anything amiss.

Two minutes later she seated herself at the circular table, with a plate holding a croissant, a dab of butter and a small pot of strawberry jam in front of her. Somehow she had to focus—she was here to negotiate herself out of this mess. Channelling every single iota of her inner poise, she managed a cool smile. Whatever it cost her she would not show Daniel even a particle of her discomfort.

‘So, Kaitlin. You requested this meeting. Why?’

‘I need to know what you plan to do.’

For a fleeting second confusion flashed across his face, and then a small mirthless smile tipped his lips up. ‘You’re worried I’ll go public with the whole Barcelona story?’

‘Yes.’

In truth, the idea of the press getting hold of this made her quake. Her parents would... Her imagination couldn’t even begin to conjure up the Duke’s and Duchess’s reactions. But it was more than that...

‘I realise you have no obligation not to,’ she continued quietly, ‘but it wouldn’t just impact me. The scandal would affect Prince Frederick as well.’

The House of Lycander had been besmirched by more than its fair share of disgrace and rocked by tragedy, and the idea that she might add to Frederick’s troubles filled her with horror.

‘I don’t want my stupidity to discredit Frederick or make him look a fool in the eyes of the media.’

‘Because you love him?’

The question was posed as though the answer mattered and it caused her vocal chords to tighten.

‘Or because it would make your relationship and marriage to him problematical?’

Perhaps she should lie—claim that she did love Frederick, throw herself on Daniel’s mercy. Ha! Instinct informed her that that wouldn’t work, because she sensed he didn’t have any. But, more than that, she didn’t want to lie—she’d lied enough.

‘That’s none of your business. I will not discuss Prince Frederick with you. That’s not fair to him.’

‘You didn’t worry about fairness in Barcelona.’

‘I told you—I hadn’t met him then. Or at least I hadn’t started to date him.’

‘But you knew you were going to.’

Daniel’s voice was soft, but the edge could have cut a diamond. Easy to imagine him in a courtroom now.

‘All the time you were with me you knew that you would soon be dating someone else.’

The contempt in his voice made her feel exposed and she leant forward, needing him to understand even as she knew she shouldn’t care about his opinion.

‘Yes.’ There could be no denial there, but she’d be damned if she apologised either. ‘But I didn’t plan that night. I didn’t go to Barcelona to have a one-night stand.’

‘Why did you go?’

‘I had a moment of panic.’

‘No. A moment of panic is when you have a few drinks, breathe into a paper bag or eat your bodyweight in chocolate. It’s not when you assume a fake identity and sleep with a stranger.’

‘OK. So I had a spectacular moment of panic.’

‘Because of Prince Frederick? That seems extreme. No one was going to march you to the altar on the spot.’