November Harlequin Presents 2(64)

Why then did the sight of this woman’s tears make him feel as though a knife was twisting in his gut? Something about her huge, navy blue eyes brimming with tears was getting to him, and he didn’t like it. It made him feel uncomfortable, and the urge to pull her against his chest and thread his fingers through her mane of silky brown hair was downright ridiculous.

He should dismiss her this minute, he told himself. He should hand her over to the police, and then sue her for trespassing on his land, so why was he hesitating? From the moment he had learned her identity his emotions had swung between fury and another, rather more basic urge that was no doubt responsible for the fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Muttering an oath, he dropped his gaze to her mouth, noting the perfect curve of her Cupid’s bow and the fullness of her lower lip. Soft, pink and deliciously kissable, he acknowledged grimly, feeling his body’s unmistakable reaction.

He favoured tall, elegant blondes with endlessly long legs and full breasts—even if most of the women he met sported the surgically enhanced variety, he thought cynically. Grace Beresford was small and slender, an unremarkable woman with her pale complexion and light brown hair with streaks of pale gold that were, he would lay money on it, entirely natural rather than due to the skill of a good colourist.

She would never stand out in a crowd, and yet there was something about her face, an air of serenity. Perhaps it was the hidden message in her astonishing blue eyes, the hint of sensuality in the elusive smile she had offered him earlier that was responsible for the ache in his loins, he thought derisively. Whatever it was, it was hellishly inconvenient.

‘You have two minutes,’ he said coldly, forcing himself to stroll nonchalantly over to the window. ‘Although I must warn you that I already have a good idea as to the reasons for your father’s financial problems, and I don’t regard them as an excuse for abusing the trust I put in him.’

‘You know that he’s addicted to gambling?’ Grace said urgently. ‘He can’t help it. In many ways, he’s a victim of the easy availability of online betting.’

‘My heart bleeds.’ Javier’s cool sarcasm incited her temper, and she marched across the room to plant herself firmly in front of him.

‘My father is a good man, an honourable man,’ she insisted fiercely when Javier’s brows quirked in disbelief. ‘A few years ago he made some unwise financial investments, and unfortunately he lost a lot of money.’

‘I fail to understand why I should suffer for his recklessness,’ Javier snapped.

‘He was desperate. My mother was seriously ill and he was prepared to do anything…anything…to help her.’ Javier’s expression of aloof uninterest did not flicker, and Grace ran a hand over her face in despair. She wasn’t getting through to him, and time was running out.

‘Gambling seemed his only way out,’ she faltered. ‘He had one or two wins and he believed his luck would continue. Instead, he started to run up massive debts. Incredible debts,’ she whispered bleakly. ‘Which he had no way of ever settling. After Mum died, I think he just felt utterly overwhelmed. The only thing he had of value was our house, which had been registered in Mum’s name but was now his. His creditors were threatening to take Littlecote, but he was desperate to hang onto it…for me,’ she said thickly, fighting the tears. ‘Angus did what he did—took the money—because he wanted to keep the home that he knew I loved.’ She broke off and scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. She didn’t want to cry, not in front of this man who looked as though his heart was carved from stone.

‘It’s a touching story,’ Javier remarked in a bored tone. ‘And undoubtedly there are some grains of truth in it. I’m quite ready to believe that Angus stole for your benefit. You have expensive tastes, Miss Beresford.’

‘How can you possibly know my tastes?’ Grace demanded indignantly.

Javier threw her a disdainful glance that seemed to question her intelligence. ‘Naturally a thorough investigation has been made into your private affairs. I know everything there is to know about you—and you don’t come cheap,’ he informed her coolly. ‘The upkeep of two thoroughbreds which you show at dressage events,’ he listed when she opened her mouth to argue. ‘The private education at an exclusive college for young ladies, not to mention the luxury flat while you were at university. There was no slumming it in student digs for you, was there, Miss Beresford?’

‘I paid the rent on the flat with money released from an insurance policy set up for me by my grandparents,’ Grace said tightly. Her anger was bubbling inside like molten lava beneath the earth’s crust. Any minute now and she would erupt, but the release of pressure and the torrent of furious words she wanted to throw at Javier Herrera would scupper all chances of helping her father. ‘And I worked damned hard for my degree,’ she defended herself.