Mistresses: Bound with Gold / Bought with Emeralds. Sandra Marton

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Mistresses: Bound with Gold / Bought with Emeralds - Sandra Marton Mills & Boon Romance

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She made her voice as stern as possible, considering that she had nothing with which to back up her threat. ‘No dumb and misguided attempts at chivalry. Promise?’

      He nodded slowly, something like relief shimmering behind the glasses. ‘OK, I can certainly promise that.’

      She released him and smoothed his wrinkled T-shirt back into place. ‘Sorry, but I don’t want you getting in trouble on my account. This isn’t a game, understand?’

      ‘Sure.’ He pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘I understand.’

      She was too busy worrying about Joshua’s motives to hear the lilt of resolution in the breaking voice. ‘You notice he didn’t ask me if I wanted to go on a cruise. I wonder who else is going to be on board?’ she wondered nervously. So far she had managed to keep away from the twenty-fivemetre luxury motor vessel. On board, she felt Joshua would have a home territory advantage.

      ‘Well, there’ll be the crew for a start—that’s at least five. It’s really cool, Regan, and has a spa pool and sauna. Uncle Chris and Carolyn used to say it was better than a posh hotel and they were going to use it for their honeymoon cruise!’

      Regan frowned at him. ‘You mean your father and Carolyn—’

      ‘No, I mean when Uncle Chris and Carolyn were like…you know—together…’

      ‘When they were what?

      He blinked at her vehemence. ‘Uh—didn’t you know?’ he said, speculation rife in his face. ‘Carolyn was Uncle Chris’s girlfriend for ages. They even got engaged, but a couple of months ago there was this big blow-up between them and then suddenly it was Dad she was marrying…’

      The tense atmosphere between the brothers, Carolyn’s attitude and the Harrimans’ odd manner whenever Chris was mentioned—all were suddenly explained…

      Regan emerged from the coolness of the office into the dazzle of the hot, late-afternoon sun in a zombie-like mentalfog. She trotted alongside Joshua’s tall, striding figure as they crossed the cobbled paving, weaving around the clover-leaf arrangement of shops and cafés on the graduated series of curving terraces which descended to the edge of the circular head of the canal. Most of the bars and cafés had outdoor tables, shaded by umbrellas, and were doing a good business from the tanned boaties and residents and sunburned tourists who were starting to wind down, or up, from their day’s activities.

      Joshua led Regan along the wide wooden boardwalk past the first few berths to where the Sara Wade lay snoozing at her moorings. She was sleek and white, her streamlined cabins rising two storeys above the main deck, the roof bristling with antennae and electronic gadgetry.

      ‘Sara was my stepmother’s name,’ explained Joshua, as he motioned her ahead of him up the short gangplank. He had slipped off his jacket and pocketed his yellow knitted silk tie as they walked, opening his collar and rolling up the sleeves of his white linen shirt to look the epitome of laid-back style.

      ‘What about your real mother?’ murmured Regan, still grappling with the impact of Ryan’s words.

      ‘She died when I was two—of breast cancer. I don’t remember much about her. Dad married Sara when I was five. Careful.’

      Regan had tripped on a wooden slat on the gangplank. ‘I don’t think I’m dressed for boating,’ she said, looking down at her high-heeled sandals. The trim, lightweight tailored navy suit she was wearing was also more suited to an office than a quarter-deck. Regan hoped she wouldn’t feel out of place amongst a crowd of people in smart-butcasual nautical gear.

      ‘You can slip into something more comfortable on board.’ She slanted him a suspicious look over her shoulder and he chuckled. ‘We have lots of non-skid boat shoes on board in most sizes. There’s sure to be a pair to fit you.’

      His manner seemed so relaxed and unthreatening now that they were on board that Regan felt even more disorientated. Where was the implacable sense of urgency that she had sensed when he had swooped down on her at the office?

      A fit, grey-headed, middle-aged man dressed in white shorts and short-sleeved shirt stood stiffly at the top of the gangplank, a white yachting cap tucked under his arm.

      ‘Welcome aboard, sir—ma’am.’

      ‘It’s all right, Grey, she’s a friend, not a client—we don’t have to make an impression,’ said Joshua drily.

      The man’s shoulders relaxed and he grinned, his teeth white in his weather-beaten face as he replaced his blackbrimmed cap. ‘What a shame. I’ve been practising my snappy salute.’

      ‘This is Regan. I believe she gets seasick in small boats,’ Joshua supplied wickedly.

      ‘Then you won’t have a problem with Sara Wade,’ Grey told her kindly. ‘She’s as solid as a rock.’

      ‘Don’t rocks usually sink?’ said Regan.

      ‘Not a rock with this much horsepower,’ he smiled. ‘This baby could raise the Titanic.

      ‘Don’t get him started,’ said Joshua. ‘It really is his baby. Grey has captained her since she was commissioned. You can cast off whenever you like, Grey—we’ll be down on the aft deck, but I might bring Regan up later to show her the view from the bridge.’

      ‘Aye, aye, sir.’ This time Grey did salute, a careless, irreverent flick of his brim which made Regan smile.

      ‘Let’s go the long way round, so you can see where everything is,’ said Joshua, opening the door to the main cabin and discarding his jacket and tie on the nearest chair.

      The polished mahogany walls, maple floors and plush white and gold furnishings of the huge lounge were sumptuous, and the dining table in the next room looked as if it would easily seat twenty under the glittering modern chandelier.The U-shaped galley further forward was bigger and better equipped than some restaurant kitchens Regan had seen. Down a companionway there were four large double cabins with en suite bathrooms, the main bathroom and a sauna. Distracted by the confusion in her mind and the proximity of her guide, Regan was nonetheless stunned by the opulence of the gold-plated fixtures and fittings and coordinated furniture and fabrics.

      Beneath their feet was an almost imperceptible vibration as a powerful engine purred into life, and when she murmured something about conspicuous consumption Joshua said, ‘We bought it from an American billionaire who fell on hard times. We use it mainly for corporate entertaining, here and overseas—for events like the America’s Cup—or charter it to visiting business-people who don’t like to stay in hotels.’

      Following him back up the companionway, Regan guessed that the weekly charter fees would cost more than the average New Zealander earned in a year!

      While they’d been below the boat had left the slips, and as they stepped onto the aft deck Regan could see the marina terraces recede behind a forest of masts as they cruised around the first curve in the broad canal. But it was what she didn’t see that concerned her. ‘Where are the others?’

      ‘Others?’ Joshua leaned sideways on the brass rail, plucking a pair of sunglasses from the breast pocket of his shirt and sliding them on his face.

      ‘You said, “We’re going on a short

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