AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘I said, what the hell are you doing here?’ he demanded, his voice rougher than before as he fought with the temptation his memories were throwing at him.
He saw her flinch, blink hard, but then she drew herself up to face him defiantly, blue eyes clashing with his.
‘I came to talk to you.’
‘About what, exactly?’
She had spent all yesterday trying to ignore him. Today had been the reverse of that, bombarding him with text messages and demands that they meet. It was obvious she was on edge, even if she was trying to look down her pretty little nose at him.
‘About…?’
The rap at the door was loud and staccato, and it came in the same moment as her response, so that he could barely hear the word. Imogen broke off abruptly, eyes going to the big wooden door behind her, a faint questioning frown creasing the space between her brows.
‘Monsieur Cardini? Are you in there?
‘Ciara!’
Her sister’s name was a sound of pure shock and Imogen looked around frantically, clearly hunting for somewhere to hide.
‘I need to talk to you.’
‘Another one,’ Raoul drawled, one black eyebrow drifting upwards cynically. ‘My, but I am popular tonight.’
‘Not popular!’ Imogen’s outburst was a hiss of fury, like that of an angry cat.
‘Open the door—please. Let me in. I need to talk to you.’
‘She mustn’t know I’m here!’
‘Monsieur Cardini…’ Ciara begged. ‘We can’t let things go on like this.’
‘Un moment…’
He was about to suggest to Imogen that she hide, but she had taken action herself, stepping further back, closer to the wall, pressing herself flat up against it. She reached out and caught hold of the embroidered drapes, tugging at them and pulling them closer around her until she was totally concealed.
‘Please…’ Her sister was clearly getting anxious on the other side of the door.
‘All right.’ Not sparing another glance at the spot where Imogen stood hidden, he turned the key in the lock and pulled open the door.
Ciara must have been right up against the wood because, as he opened it, she almost tumbled into the room. Her red-gold hair was wet from the rain and was flattened against her skull, and her face still had traces of damp along her brow and cheekbones, the waft of cool evening air coming into the room with her.
‘What the devil is this?’
He’d had enough of intruders in his room, enough of the O’Sullivan sisters invading his life, rocking the balance of his thoughts.
‘I need to talk to you—to try and sort things out so that you don’t spoil my sister’s wedding, and—Oh!’
The small cry of shock was because she had only just registered his half-naked state, the towel hitched around his hips. The rush of pink into her cheeks was unlike the response of her sister, who had merely regarded him with the sort of cool control that had set his teeth on edge. But the knowledge that that sister was behind him, hidden behind the heavy curtains, only aggravated his already irritated mood. He brought his hand down in a slashing sort of movement, wanting to cut short the hesitation and get to the point.
‘Mademoiselle O’Sullivan—say what you have to say and then leave me in peace.’
Did she hear the noise behind her, the footsteps on the stairs? If she didn’t, he certainly did, and the sounds destroyed any last grip on his patience.
‘Speak!’
Behind the concealing curtain, Imogen winced instinctively as she heard that cold bite of anger in Raoul’s voice. She’d heard that once before, when she had tried to persuade him to continue their relationship beyond the weeks he had prescribed. It meant trouble—ice-cold, ruthless trouble.
Silently she willed Ciara to say her piece and go.
‘I’m here to beg you not to do anything. Not to say anything.’
The quaver in her sister’s voice told Imogen that Ciara had recognised the danger in Raoul’s tone, even if she didn’t know the full story behind it. But she had never seen the tall, dark Corsican’s eyes blaze with golden fire, the way his nostrils flared, his mouth clamping tight over the anger burning inside, turning it into savage ice with the force of his control.
