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Without warning he gripped her arms…
“Mr. Tenby—”
One hand still held her while the other slid its way up her arm. Then he released her.
“Get out of that damned uniform and wear something civilized,” he ordered.
“Very well, sir.”
“Very well, sir,” he echoed. “Such a cool voice. Such a neutral voice. God, I wish I could see your face this minute.”
“It’s a neutral face, too,” she assured him. “Just treat me as a piece of machinery.”
“There’s machinery in my factory. It smells of axle grease, not wildflowers, as you do.”
Elinor was startled. “I came up because I’m not happy about you having too many people in here just now,” she said quickly. “You still need a lot of rest and I—”
“No, I think you should listen while I make a few things plain,” he interrupted her. “I’ve been ill as long as I can afford to be. So if I want to talk to my manager, I’ll do so. You’ll do what I say, when I say, and that’s final. Now clear out before I start getting angry.”
Lucy Gordon cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men, including Warren Beatty, Richard Chamberlain, Roger Moore, Sir Alec Guinness and Sir John Gielgud. She also camped out with lions in Africa, and had many other unusual experiences which have often provided the background for her books.
She is married to a Venetian, whom she met while on holiday in Venice. They got engaged within two days, and have now been married for twenty-five years. They live in England, in the Midlands, with their two dogs.
One of her books, His Brother’s Child, won the Romance Writers of America RITA Award in 1998, in the Best Traditional Romance category.
Books by Lucy Gordon
HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®
3515—THE DIAMOND DAD
3529—BE MY GIRL!
3548—BEAUTY AND THE BOSS
3561—FARELLI’S WIFE
Taming Jason
Lucy Gordon
MILLS & BOON
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CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
SHE wouldn’t cry. No matter how desperately she longed to, she wouldn’t cry and let the hated Jason Tenby know how badly he’d hurt her.
Cindy Smith pressed her hands against her mouth to force back the sobs. Through the blur of tears she could see the countryside flashing past the car. With each mile she was moving further away from the man she loved.
Jason Tenby sat beside her, his eyes fixed on the road. He never once glanced her way and she knew he was indifferent to her broken heart.
There was power in every line of him, from the arrogant set of his head to the way his hands rested on the wheel, controlling it with the lightest of touches.
For him, control was everything. It had maddened him that his younger brother, Simon, had chosen a girl from the wrong side of the tracks to marry into the proud Tenby family. So he’d set himself to smash the engagement. And he’d done so with brutal efficiency.
Although he was still in his late twenties his face had an authority that he’d inherited. Generations of Tenbys had lived at Tenby Manor, ruling the surrounding countryside, either openly or through subtle influence. Jason Tenby was the last of a long line of masters.
The girl sitting beside him was no match for him. She was eighteen, with fine bones and a delicate, vulnerable face. In her short life she’d known poverty but not harshness, and her first brush with implacable force had left her devastated.
‘We’ll reach the station in five minutes,’ Jason said. ‘Plenty of time for you to catch your train.’
‘You’ve no right to do this,’
