Colin smiled at the image that crossed his mind. She had a passionate nature beneath her prepossessed exterior, and it drew him to her. He wanted to strip away the smooth veneer to the substance of the woman beneath.
If yesterday was any indication, Belinda hadn’t changed much in two years. She had just as much passion—around him, anyway. Her erstwhile fiancé didn’t seem to bring out the same fire. She’d been cool and collected by Dillingham’s side, beautiful but detached. The smooth porcelain-doll facade had been in place—at least until he had interrupted the wedding service.
Her rich dark hair had been swept up and away from a face that was still arrestingly lush. Dark brows arched delicately over hazel eyes, an aquiline nose and lips too full for decency. Her ivory wedding dress had hugged a curvaceous figure. Its short lace sleeves and the lace over the décolleté were the only things that saved it from being immodest.
The moment she’d turned away from the altar and toward him, he’d felt a wave of heat and a tightening of the gut, even with the whisper of her veil between them.
Colin clenched his jaw. Belinda had looked breathtaking, just like on their wedding day. But when she’d married him, she’d been full of excitement and anticipation, eyes alight and those sinful lips spread in a dazzling smile. None of that stuffy, stilted Wentworth hauteur, just a stunning blend of passion and sensuality. The remoteness hadn’t emerged until the following morning. But even now, Colin was pleased to see he could still get a reaction out of her.
After their confrontation in the church staging area, Belinda had swept out of the room. Colin wouldn’t be surprised if she’d gotten into a cab and gone directly to her attorney’s office. His mocking suggestion that they remain married had apparently been the last straw, as far as his wife was concerned.
The wedding reception had gone on, he’d heard. Belinda’s wedding planner and friend, Pia Lumley, had seen to it at the Wentworth family’s request. Regrettably, however, none of the three principal characters—the bride, her husband or the groom—had been present.
Colin stared broodingly at the magnificent view from his windows.
The enmity between the Wentworths and Granvilles ran deep. The two families were longstanding neighbors, landowners and, most importantly, rivals in England’s Berkshire countryside. From skirmishes over property lines to allegations of political treachery and dastardly seduction of female relations, the flare-ups between the families had entered into folklore.
He, of course, as the current titular head of the Granville family, had written a fitting chapter to the long-running story by eloping in Las Vegas with Belinda Wentworth.
Over the years, he had found Belinda intriguing. Of course, he’d been curious about her. When he’d seen his opportunity to get to know her better, he’d taken it—first at a friend’s cocktail party in Vegas and soon afterward, in a casino.
By the end of the night at the Bellagio casino, he’d known he wanted Belinda like he’d wanted no woman before her. There had been something about her, and it went beyond the both of them being former competitive swimmers and current opera fans.
She was a dark and striking beauty, more than a match for him in wits. Of course, that same wit was what had made her floor him, as no woman had, at the end of the evening with the announcement that she couldn’t sleep with him without a marriage certificate.
Of course, he hadn’t been able to resist the challenge. Perhaps his winnings at the gaming tables had made him believe he could win no matter what the odds. He’d been willing to take the gamble for a night in bed with Belinda.
And she hadn’t disappointed.
He felt a tightening in his gut even now at the memory, more than two years on.
And then yesterday, he’d used the element of surprise to his advantage by crashing Belinda’s wedding. He’d only recently discovered that she was to be wed. He’d also guessed that nothing short of a public spectacle would have caused Belinda’s wedding plans to fall apart. If he’d given her advance warning, she might have attempted to persuade him to finalize an annulment with no one being the wiser.
Tod Dillingham, who was concerned with status and appearances, would not know how to forgive a public transgression like yesterday. At least, Colin was banking on it.
At the chime of the apartment door, he turned away from the view. Just in time.
“Colin,” his mother announced as she sailed in, “an incredible rumor has reached me. You must deny it immediately.”
Colin stepped aside to let her in. “If it is incredible, why are you here seeking a denial?”
His mother’s flair for drama never ceased to amaze him. Fortunately, these days he was usually at a safe remove, since she considered her London flat to be home base. On the other hand, it was his bad luck that a trip of hers to New York in order to visit friends and attend a party or two happened to coincide with Belinda’s wedding date. He wondered idly if his younger sister, Sophie, was enjoying a London temporarily free of their mother’s presence.
His mother tossed a glance back at him, a sour expression on her face. “Now is no time for you to be jesting.”
“Was I?” he mused as he shut the door.
“Tosh! The family name is being besmirched.” His mother put down her Chanel bag and settled herself in a chair in the living room, after giving her coat to the housekeeper who magically materialized for a moment. “I demand answers.”
“Of course,” Colin responded, remaining standing but folding his arms. He acknowledged the housekeeper with a grateful nod.
His mother looked incongruous in the contemporary setting. He was much more used to her in a traditional English sitting room, surrounded by chintz prints and stripes, with old and faded family photos adorning the console table and piano. Certainly she was used to a complete staff of servants.
He and his mother both waited, until his mother raised her eyebrows.
Colin cleared his throat. “What is the rumor precisely?”
“As if you didn’t know!”
When he continued to remain silent, his mother sighed with resignation.
“I’ve heard the most horrible gossip that you disrupted the nuptials of the Wentworth chit. What’s more, you apparently announced you were married to her.” His mother held up her hand. “Naturally, I cut off the horrible harridan who was repeating the vicious rumor. I informed her that you would never have put in an appearance at a Wentworth wedding. Ergo, you could not have stated that—”
“Who was this teller of tall tales?”
His mother stopped, frowned and then waved a hand dismissively. “A reader of Mrs. Jane Hollings, who writes a column for some paper.”
“The New York Intelligencer.”
His mother looked at him in distracted surprise. “Yes, I believe that’s it. She works for the Earl of Melton. Whatever could Melton be thinking to own that rag of a paper?”
“I believe that tabloid turns a healthy profit, particularly online.”
His
