she tried not to cry. When her mother had died, she hadn’t shed one tear. Her sisters had been inconsolable and she’d cuddled them in her arms till they’d fallen asleep but she’d remained cold, her feelings frozen.
Her hands curled against István’s chest. Safely in her wallet were pictures of him and her mother which comforted her somehow to know that they were there. She could touch the wallet and project her passionate hatred of him to wherever he was in the world. And now he was here and she was in his arms and feeling as if she’d come home. It was all wrong!
István’s strong hand lifted her chin and he stared deeply into her eyes while gently wiping her face with his handkerchief. ‘I’m glad you’ve cried,’ he said huskily. ‘I heard you’d never shed a tear.’ His hand faltered. There was a softening of his mouth that disturbed her, a light in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. ‘You’re more ethereal than ever. I’ve never seen you look more beautiful, Tanya,’ he breathed, a frightening hunger in his voice.
Her throat dried. Beneath the pale suit, her breasts rose and fell with the shallow breath that sought in vain to oxygenate her depleted body. He had an animal magnetism, an intense sexuality that even she, his sister, could feel. Lisa would be a pushover to that unholy, electrical force emanating from him. With barely a thought for the consequences, he switched it on and flooded anyone in his path in a dazzling display of male power.
The blood began to drum in her veins. She couldn’t have moved if her life had depended on it. He held her gaze with the sheer force of his personality and all she could do was to stare at the incredibly sexy mouth and wonder…
Oh, dear heaven! she thought in horror. What is it about István?
And he told her.
‘I feel it too,’ he growled softly.
‘Feel…what?’ she croaked in a revealingly high-pitched voice.
István breathed heavily a few times before elaborating, his wicked black eyes relentless. ‘Desire.’
‘What are you saying…? No!’ she whispered in horror, her mouth only just managing to shape the denial as he moved forwards to close the gap between them. ‘No, István!’
But her speech was slurred and he smiled in triumph. ‘Poor Tanya,’ he said soothingly, his warm breath torching across her face. ‘I think I’d better put you out of your misery.’
Her skin prickled with tension. ‘You’re depraved! Heaven help you, István!’ she rasped, her voice shaking with raw emotion. ‘Your mind is twisted. I wish we weren’t related! If only there were no ties between us—and never had been! I wish—oh, dear God, I wish you’d never been born and that you weren’t my brother!’
‘That last wish is granted,’ he said silkily, dropping a light kiss on her parched lips. ‘I’m not.’
‘What?’ she croaked, bewildered. And all the time she was thinking, No, no! No, it can’t be true…
‘I’m not your brother.’ There was something terrible in the depths of his eyes but his tone was light-hearted. ‘Opens up all sorts of possibilities, doesn’t it?’
TANYA’S senses reeled. For a moment she didn’t grasp what he was saying and then the full impact of his statement hit her. And by then he was halfway up the castle steps. Numbly, paralysed with shock, she watched his tall, lithe figure in the woman-baiting white shirt and tight black jeans disappear into the hotel.
But it wasn’t true. It was impossible. He’d made a cruel joke to torment her.
She would have run after him if she could move. She would yell at him to leave them all alone if she could succeed in pushing her voice past the awful lump that blocked her throat. Not her brother—a terrible thing to say—a slur on her parents’ integrity!
And yet…
Voices impinged on her consciousness. John’s bitter anger, Lisa’s agitated wails. Her entire body trembled with anger as it dawned on her that István was set fair to ruin the fairy-tale wedding they’d all planned for and had looked forward to with such excitement.
John’s needs fought with her own. His had a greater priority and her instincts were always to respond to her family’s needs. Grimly she forced herself to dismiss István’s outrageous claim as pure, wicked fantasy and to contain her own chaotic feelings. István she could deal with later. This was infinitely more urgent, though at the moment she wasn’t sure whether she should break up the argument or let it blow itself out. Curse István! She scowled, hating to see her brother so upset.
As for that dizzy sensation she’d felt…She was tired. Getting her father comfortably settled, cooking masses of meals for him and freezing them, watering the plants, worrying about leaving him and then worrying even more about Lisa’s love for John—all this had tired her emotionally and physically.
Someone spoke to her. A young woman, dressed entirely in black and carrying a basket of freshly baked bread that smelled deliciously warm and doughy. Tanya registered hunger as she absently returned the woman’s greeting and it suddenly became clear that much of her confused thinking had also been due to her early start that morning without a proper breakfast.
A wry smile touched her pale lips. Hunger pangs, mimicking sexual desire! And then her smile faded as she realised more fully what István had said. He’d casually disowned the mother who’d devoted her life to him. He deserved nothing but contempt for his behaviour. Her hands shaped into fists.
‘Not your brother.’ Ridiculous! Her mother would have told her if he’d been adopted…Wouldn’t she? At the very least, her father would have said something when István had vanished. Bitterness and resentment would have drawn such a fact out of her father, surely? Or he would have told her recently in one of those long, companionable heart-to-hearts.
Crushing the rebellious nagging doubts that kept whispering slyly in her ear, she marshalled her thoughts together. At the moment, Lisa and John needed her. Making sure their wedding went ahead was the most important thing on the agenda and anything that was between herself and István could wait—must wait.
‘Here goes,’ she muttered, heading towards John and Lisa. Ignore István, she told herself. Think only of the wedding. But smiling was more difficult than she’d hoped.
‘Are you going to show me this hotel of yours or am I camping out here?’ she asked John jokingly in a rather stiff little voice that went with the rigid smile.
‘Sorry, I——’ began John.
‘You and István didn’t get on,’ sighed Lisa despondently, slumped rather inappropriately against a statue of Cupid. ‘I heard you arguing.’
Tanya looked at her anxiously. Now István was gone, the light had left Lisa’s face. ‘Good grief! He and I will always be at daggers drawn!’ she said lightly. ‘That doesn’t matter a scrap. Pretend he’s not here. I’m dying to hear all the arrangements. Can you take my luggage, John?’
Conscious of the need to reassure Lisa, to remind her friend that John was reliable and steady and loved her, she tucked her arm
