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‘Why?’
I stared at him in disbelief. Was he serious? God, why was I asking myself that? He was Rikkard Ambrose! Of course he was serious! He was also completely and utterly nuts if he thought I was going along with this!
‘Apart from the fact that it was a dastardly trick of yours to force me into this without asking my permission first?’
He nodded, clearly impatient. ‘Yes, apart from that, of course.’
My hands twitched, itching to reach for his neck.
Breathe, Lilly! Breathe deeply and slowly! Murder is probably against the law in Egypt!
‘Well?’ Mr Ambrose demanded, his gold gaze raking over me as if we were back in his office in London and I was taking too long with sorting through a couple of files. ‘Why can’t you pretend to be utterly and deliriously in love with me? It shouldn’t be hard. I am m
e, after all, and you are female.’
My mouth dropped open. The arrogant son of a…! ‘Why? Simple! Because… because…’
I hesitated.
Bloody hell, it wasn’t so simple, after all. Why exactly couldn’t I pretend to be in love with him? It wouldn’t exactly be the first time I had pretended or acted a role. I had pretended to be a secretary in male costume for weeks now. After that, a bride on her honeymoon shouldn’t be that difficult, should it?
There was only one problem.
I wasn’t just going to be a bride. I was going to be his bride. The bride of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. Assumed name or not, he was still he. And I was I.
His eyes narrowed a fraction. ‘Why?’ he demanded for the third and, I could tell from his tone, very last time. There was thunder threatening in his voice.
‘Because… because I can’t stand you!’
He shrugged. ‘Irrelevant.’
‘Because I’m a feminist!’
‘Also irrelevant. I pay you to work for me, not to hold absurd political opinions.’ Taking a sudden step towards me, he forced me to retreat, his dark form towering above me. The aura of power radiating off his hard body was almost palpable. ‘You will be my wife, Miss Linton - for the next few months. After that, you can feminise and frolic wherever and whenever you want. But for the next few months, you are mine!’
‘No!’
‘Yes!’ I wasn’t fast enough. He was already close enough for me to feel his breath on my face, the force of his dark, sea-coloured eyes pulling at my soul. ‘You will.’
‘N-’
Before I could finish my denial, his finger was at my lip, cool, hard, implacable.
‘Think very carefully before you speak, Miss Linton.’ There was a distinct note of threat in his voice. A shiver of mingled fear and excitement travelled down my spine. ‘Remember your agreement, when you took my money. Do whatever I say, go wherever I command… Do you remember?’
Good God! Had he been planning all this even then?
What a stupid question. Of course he had.
I swallowed. ‘I remember.’
‘Well then?’ He bent down from his towering height, until I could feel the hard muscles of his chest against mine, and his mouth almost brushed my lips. I could barely breathe, so thick with delicious tension was the air around me. ‘What is your answer? Miss Linton, will you be my wife?’
‘Yes.’
The word was out of my mouth before I even had begun to think. I stood there, dazed, uncomprehending.
Bloody hell, bloody stinking hell! How did that just come out of my mouth? And more importantly, why?
