Back in the Lion's Den
Jodie was pulling faces, Sienna decided, as Shadow would have done, if he’d been able to, the day he’d rolled on that wasp-infested chocolate wrapper. When Jodie didn’t answer, however, she went on, ‘He’s too rich, he’s got a freezer cabinet for a heart and is about as approachable as a turned on water cannon. I wouldn’t sleep with Conan Ryder if he was the last man on—What?’
Jodie’s eyes had come into the equation now. But even as it dawned on Sienna what her neighbour was trying to tell her, too late she felt that prickling awareness she always felt when Conan Ryder was close, and caught his deep voice, low in her ear, as he told her, ‘Don’t worry. You won’t have to. We have enough rooms in Provence for the family not to have to share with the guests.’
Those cool words were at variance with the warmth of his breath against her hair—an unintentional caress that sent tingles along her very nerve-endings. Or was it so unintentional? she wondered, her pulse quickening ridiculously. Because she didn’t think he’d miss a single trick to try and unsettle her.
Impelled by good manners to introduce him to Jodie, she tried to shake off the devastating effects of Conan’s nearness. But before she could find her voice Jodie was shooting out a hand for him to take.
‘I’m Jodie Fisher,’ she pre-empted, smiling broadly at the dynamic-looking man whose bronzed chest oozed virility through a fine and fitted short-sleeved cream shirt, and whose long legs were encased in dark tailored trousers. Her cheeks were unusually flushed. Even being happily married and pregnant didn’t stop a woman trying to get herself noticed by him, Sienna thought despairingly.
‘The pleasure’s all mine, Jodie.’ His manner was charm personified. Never once in all the time she had known him had he smiled at her like that—with such sincere warmth—Sienna realised, annoyed with herself for even thinking it, and telling herself she hardly cared.
‘Well, I’ll be getting back to my hovel …’ Still beaming, Jodie gestured towards the immaculately painted house next door for Conan’s benefit. It made Sienna’s look rather tired and dull in comparison. ‘Daisy’s in the garden with Shadow,’ she told Sienna. ‘Have a lovely time, won’t you?’ From the look she angled towards Conan as she was going out of the gate it was obvious what she meant.
‘You’d better come in.’ Alone with him, Sienna was determined not to let it bother her. ‘We’re nearly ready.’
Daisy was standing mixing play dough on a low table as they came out through the little galley kitchen, chattering happily to her pink hippopotamus, seated on a tiny chair, and the dog, which was stretched out with its head raised, listening interestedly to every word of the childish patter.
‘You’ve got no qualms about leaving a four-year-old with that animal?’ Conan’s disapproval was obvious.
‘No. Why should I have?’ Sienna shot back at him over her shoulder. ‘Shadow would protect her rather than cause her any harm. “That animal”—as you call him—is as gentle as a lamb!’
Peeved by his attitude, which even now questioned her suitability as a mother, she had to bite back the desire to tell him to mind his own business as she plastered on a smile and called out to Daisy, ‘Come here, poppet! There’s somebody I want you to meet.’
Grabbing her hippopotamus, the little girl ran up to them.
‘Do you remember … Mr Ryder?’ Sienna queried after some hesitation. For some reason Uncle Conan didn’t spring easily to her lips—which was crazy, she realised, because that was who he was.
The little girl gazed coyly up at him, her hazel eyes studying him with a seriousness way beyond her years. Eventually she asked, ‘Are you my daddy?’ and something squeezed painfully around Sienna’s heart.
Daisy had never known Niall—not properly anyway. And she certainly couldn’t remember him. So wasn’t it an obvious mistake for her to imagine that Conan might be her father?
Dropping to his haunches, Conan gazed—transfixed—at the little girl who was studying him so intently, and something ripped through him, taking his breath away.
It was Niall at four years old! Niall with his shock of bright hair and his sturdy little body and his frowning bewilderment at the world as he’d looked to him—his older brother—for answers …
The feeling in his chest was almost suffocating. Somehow, though, he recovered himself enough to respond to her question about being her father. ‘No, Daisy, I’m not,’ he murmured huskily.
Had she imagined that crack in his voice? Sienna wondered, noticing how long and tanned and utterly masculine his hands were as they clasped the tiny arms, although he stopped short of actually catching Daisy to him. But she was his late brother’s child, and for the first time it struck Sienna just how much pain the separation between her and Niall’s family might have caused them—all of them. It was something far too uncomfortable to dwell on.
‘This is Daddy’s brother. Your Uncle Conan. Do you remember me telling you about the little holiday we’re going on today?’ Daisy’s shining curls caught the sunlight as she nodded zealously. ‘He’s come to take us back with him to see your grandmother.’
Daisy looked quickly across at the dog, which hadn’t come running up to this disapproving stranger as he had the last time, but was keeping at a very safe distance today. ‘And Shadow?’
‘And Shadow,’ Sienna echoed firmly, with a challenging lift of her chin towards Niall’s brother. So he didn’t like her dog? Well, too bad! Perhaps if she was lucky she could get Shadow to slobber all over him and shed hairs over the back seat of his stupendously expensive car!
‘What about Hippo? Can I take him too?’
‘Of course you can,’ Sienna said warmly. Slicing a glance down at Conan’s gleaming black hair, she wondered what he was thinking when his interest shifted from his niece to the rather worn and faded toy she was clutching.
Had he remembered he had bought it, for Daisy’s first birthday? she wondered. And that with it he had brought a remarkably expensive bottle of champagne? A gift for her and Niall because it was their second wedding anniversary. Niall had telephoned only minutes before and apologised for not being able to get home early as promised for Daisy’s birthday, without a word about their own celebration. She recalled feeling stupidly hurt, thinking how strange it was that Conan had remembered when his brother hadn’t. But then Niall had had a lot on his mind, had been working hard for his little family. And he’d fallen over himself with remorse when he had come home just after midnight and seen the bottle of champagne that Conan had left. He’d made it up to her the next day with chocolates and flowers, promising never—ever—to forget again …
Battling with the turmoil of emotions going on inside her, she saw Conan’s mouth compress in brief recognition of the gift he had given his niece. But then his hands dropped away from the little girl and, getting to his feet again, towering above them both, he said with a coldness that seemed to leave him untouched, ‘Well? Are we ready to go?’
CHAPTER THREE
FROM luxury saloon to private jet, to the equally luxurious chauffeur-driven car that had been waiting for them at the airport, the journey to Provence had been as smooth and as hassle-free as only the journeys of men as mega-rich as Conan Ryder could be. A discreet cabin crew had catered for their every need while Conan worked on his laptop in a separate compartment of the plane, keeping Sienna topped up with refreshments and occupying Daisy with games and the odd edible treat. Even Shadow had slept most of the way, in the large, comfortable carrier provided for the purpose, oblivious to the fact that he was being whisked thousands of feet up over a glittering body of water, and down across vast swathes of unfenced and sunlit fields.
Now, with the concrete and the crowds of the bustling mainland coast behind them, they were travelling across wild and isolated land jutting out into a sparkling sea.
It was another world, Sienna thought, gazing at the tall pine trees that defined the landscape and concealed exclusive walled mansions from prying eyes. A world far removed from the one she knew. A billionaire’s retreat.
As the car slowed to pass through electrically operated gates into the lush, meandering grounds of Conan’s hideaway, Sienna gulped back a gasp. What she was looking at was no less than magnificent. A huge white modern terracotta-roofed villa built on various levels, with a profusion of flower draped balconies, balustrades and floor to ceiling windows enjoying dramatic views of the rocky coast above which they were perched, of looming mountains and a breath-catching expanse of azure water.
Conan was sitting in the front of the car, conversing with his driver in amazingly fluent French, and had said very little to her since leaving the airport.
Viewing his dark and striking profile with the same mixture of wonder and appreciation with which she would view a classical marble statue as he turned and laughed at something the chauffeur had said, she resolved never to let him see just how overwhelmed she was by his wealth and his dauntingly impressive house—or by him!
Sitting immediately behind him, however, little Daisy had no such qualms.
As the car drew to a standstill at the end of the long drive, she exclaimed excitedly, ‘Is this where we’re going to live?’
‘Yes, Daisy.’ Conan’s voice was decisive, causing Sienna to look at him quickly with a little trickle of unease.
‘For ever and ever?’
Ignoring her mother’s questioning glare—deliberately, Sienna felt—Conan laughed rather menacingly, she thought. ‘I think even you would tire of such delightful surroundings eventually.’
‘No, I wouldn’t,’ the little girl lobbed back, certain of it. And if that conversation wasn’t enough to unsettle Sienna, then her daughter’s continuing enthusiasm made sure of it as Daisy asked her uncle, ‘Are you going to live with us too?’
Trying to reject the unwelcome connotations inspired by that innocent enough question, as Conan’s glance sliced across hers with something mocking in those green-gold eyes, she uttered quickly for his as well as her daughter’s benefit, ‘It’s just a holiday, Daisy. Just for a few weeks. That’s all.’
Something firmed the hard line of that sculpted masculine mouth, but the arrival of a couple of male members of staff to deal with their bags and let a grateful Shadow out of the back of the car precluded whatever he had been about to say.
Out of the car before Conan could come round to assist her, Sienna moved to catch Daisy’s hand to stop her running on ahead. Or perhaps, subconsciously, she needed the little girl’s support as much as her daughter usually needed hers, Sienna thought self-deprecatingly, nervous at suddenly finding herself on this unfamiliar, unfriendly, exclusively Ryder territory.
Surprisingly, though, Daisy made a small protest and tugged away from her, causing something not unlike resentment to rush up inside Sienna as the little girl ran over to grasp Conan’s hand.
This unexpected action caught Conan totally unawares. With a sharp intake of breath that caused his chest to rise beneath the tailored shirt and his wide shoulders to stiffen, he glanced down at the little face beaming up at him, a blend of surprise and resistance coursing through his long, lean body.
‘And to what do I owe this pleasure?’ he asked the little girl.
Suddenly not sure of what to make of this tall, inflexible stranger, Daisy lost her courage, letting go of his hand. It still didn’t deter her from skipping along beside him, or from shrugging off her mother’s hand as it shot out to restrain her.
‘Get used to it, Sienna,’ Conan advised, quietly so that none of the others could hear. ‘You’ve had her to yourself long enough, and now you’re going to have to accept that she has other family she needs to get to know and spend time with. And if you can manage to curb your tongue with my mother while you’re here you’ll be doing us all a favour. As I’ve already explained, she’s very unwell.’
Peeved by his smug and condescending attitude, itching to remind him that it was she who had been on the receiving end of Avril Ryder’s disdain and disparaging remarks in the past, Sienna decided it wouldn’t help to promote good relations between them and considered it best to remain silent.
Ignoring him, she called to Shadow, who was already sniffing his way round one of the marble pillars at the top of the steps, and was relieved when the dog bounded down to her at once.
There was solace to be found in ruffling his fur, Sienna decided, speaking soothingly to the animal as she attached a lead to his red tartan collar.
A member of staff took the dog as soon as they entered the house, and Sienna had the disconcerting feeling that she was relinquishing all her power to Conan Ryder.
‘Don’t worry. He’ll be adequately catered for,’ he assured her evenly, wise to her silent objection.
‘But will he be cared for?’ Sienna argued in protest. ‘He was ill treated before he was rescued and needs special handling. He likes tea, and the odd bowl of tomato soup, and he always sleeps on my bed because he doesn’t like being left in the dark.’
‘Give me strength …’ Those dark fringed eyes rolled skyward. ‘He’s a dog,’ Conan reminded her, sounding exasperated.
So are you. She mouthed it at him with a scowl, across Daisy’s bouncing curls, not wanting anyone else to witness what she knew was a very childish retaliation. But Conan Ryder was as hard and impervious to human frailty as his brother had always led her to believe he was—as she had witnessed herself in his treatment of his younger sibling. So what chance did a mere animal have against so much indifference and superiority?
A young maid called Claudette showed her and Daisy to their rooms on the first floor. Each had its own luxurious bathroom, and both bedrooms reflected more of what Sienna had seen so far of the villa’s décor. Light, airy and spacious, with tasteful and predominantly white furniture, Daisy’s room was smaller, and had touches of pink in its floral bedspread and at the windows. Sienna couldn’t help thinking it had been chosen especially for her. The room was also just a step away from Sienna’s across the wide landing.
Conan was waiting for them in the marble-floored hall when they came back downstairs a short time later, and Daisy ran to him at once, just as she had outside.
For a moment, with that determined little hand clutching his, Conan felt the same surge of resistance as he had experienced before—like a barrier slamming down on his emotions. But the little girl was giggling up at him, as though defying him to try and frighten her off again, and, yielding a little, he allowed her merely a glimmer of a smile before casting an inscrutable glance towards Sienna.
Was that triumph in his eyes? she wondered. Because while he seemed not to overly welcome his niece’s attention, she felt that after what he had said outside he was putting up with it simply to needle her.
His scrutiny, though, was causing her pulses to leap-frog.
Now, tingling from the way his gaze ran over her freshly brushed hair and the golden slope of her shoulders beneath her sundress, Sienna stepped out of the beautiful house onto a sun terrace above a garden that tumbled down to the rocky shoreline and the restless sea.
Avril Ryder was propped up on a recliner in the canopied shade of the terrace, a flower-draped pergola behind her filling the air with some exotic scent. A creamy throw over her legs, she looked thinner, Sienna decided, her hair greyer than she remembered beneath a wide-brimmed floppy hat.
‘Oh, there you are!’ Her smile for Conan faded as her gaze shifted to Sienna, her eyes keenly assessing behind tinted lenses. Without a word to her former daughter-in-law, however, she turned her attention to Daisy, still clutching the man’s hand. ‘At last!’ The transformation in the woman’s face was like the sun coming out after a long hard winter. Her smile was warm and genuine, lending a glimmer of life to the otherwise waxen face. ‘Come here, child. Let me see you.’
Daisy ran to her without hesitation and let the painfully thin arms engulf her. Too thin, Sienna decided, silently shocked at Niall’s mother’s appearance. No wonder Conan was worried about her, she thought, aware now that he must be far more concerned than he was letting on.
Impassively, however, she murmured, ‘This is your grandmother, Daisy.’
Looking up at the pale and weary-looking face, Daisy giggled and asked, ‘Why are you wearing that funny hat?’
Sienna bit the inside of her lip, expecting the pale lips to tighten as she had seen them do so often in the past. But instead they were curving in a soft smile. ‘To keep the sun off my head. It doesn’t look all that pretty, does it? But it does its job.’
Sienna watched Daisy digest this for a moment. ‘Are you really going to be my grandmother?’ she enquired. ‘I’ve always wanted two. My friend Zoe has two. Are you going to take me to the beach like my Aunty Nanny?’
Sienna could have sworn there were tears in the shaded eyes that had suddenly turned her way.
‘It’s what she calls Mum,’ she explained simply with a little shrug. At forty-eight, Faith Swann considered herself far too young to be called a grandmother.
‘And you, Sienna …?’ A bony hand was stroking the soft tumble of Daisy’s curls, those tired eyes continually returning to the child’s face as though they couldn’t get enough of what they were seeing. A shaft of pain sliced viciously through Sienna as she wondered if her mother-in-law had noticed Daisy’s likeness to her lost son. ‘How have you been?’
Sienna’s response was tentative. ‘I’m fine.’ This was hardly the same woman who had made her constantly aware that she wasn’t good enough for Niall—who had ultimately blamed her for what had happened to her younger son.
‘I think we should leave them for a little while, don’t you?’ Sienna stiffened at the firm, masculine hand around her elbow, and caught Conan’s reprimand, low and lethally soft against her ear.
‘You can’t possibly object?’
She couldn’t tell him that her reluctance sprang from spending any more time than she had to alone with him.
‘No,’ she said tensely. ‘I don’t object.’
‘Good.’ The eyes that roamed speculatively across her face told her that the small inflexion in her voice hadn’t escaped him. He gestured for her to precede him through the pergola along the pale stonework of a shrub-bordered, sun-baked path.
‘I didn’t realise your mother was so … unwell,’ she said hesitantly, concerned. ‘Unwell’ seemed far too moderate a word to describe Avril Ryder’s appearance. ‘Is she going to be all right?’
‘I sincerely hope so.’ The skin was drawn tightly over Conan’s hard-boned cheeks and Sienna realised he was far more worried than he was letting on.
‘Perhaps having Daisy here will help?’ she offered, feeling that same tug of remorse over having denied Niall’s family the right to see his daughter.
‘Yes.’ The single syllable seemed dragged through Conan’s clenched teeth. It was clear he was thinking along the same lines, she thought, feeling chastened. ‘And you, Sienna. What have you been doing for the past three years?’
A slim shoulder lifted slightly beneath her floral print sundress—a cool blend of white and soft blues and greens, teamed that morning with a green lacy cropped bolero, which she had discarded as soon as they had stepped off the plane.
‘This and that. Training for my diplomas and the rest of my gym qualifications. Visiting Mum and Dad.’
‘In Spain.’
It wasn’t a question, she was quick to realise. He had obviously been informed. It was just another black mark against her in the Ryder family’s eyes, she’d always felt. That she was the daughter of a mere carpenter, who had sold up everything he had to go and run a wine bar for British ex-patriots with his wife on the Costa del Sol!
‘And what about the man whose flat you were sharing the night your husband died?’ His tone had turned as hard as the earth they were skirting on either side of the path, where an endless profusion of white roses made her almost heady with their fragrance. ‘How long did he stay in the picture?’
‘I’d rather not discuss it, if you don’t mind,’ she responded, turning away.
Her profile, he noticed, was proud and challenging, yet insufferably alluring. He felt that stirring in his blood, that primal desire he had always recognised for his late brother’s wife, and always violently rejected with every bone in his body.
‘I bet you wouldn’t!’
Sienna’s expression as she looked his way again was almost careless, her pink creamy lips set in a sexy pout. He had the almost unbearable urge to crush them beneath his, to feel her body stir as his was stirring—and the evidence would be apparent if he carried on thinking like this! he thought censoriously.
She gave a little shrug, nonchalant and dismissive, as though her actions in the past were of no consequence whatsoever. That action caused the strap of her dress suddenly to slip off her shoulder. Its bareness was provocative, like pale silk begging for his touch.
Sienna reached for the fallen strap, sucking in her breath as Conan did the same, getting to it before she could and slipping it back on her shoulder.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, breathless from the shocking electrical impulses zinging through her at the merest touch of his hand.
‘When did you have that done?’ He meant her tattoo, and his voice was cool, composed, holding none of the turmoil that was going on inside her.
‘On my eighteenth birthday.’
Something tugged at his mouth. ‘Before you knew better.’
She ignored that statement, because that’s what it was. Her tattoo was just another thing he didn’t like about her, she realised, telling herself quite adamantly that she didn’t care.
‘Daisy has a lot of energy,’ she expressed, wanting to get away from him and his flower-filled garden, finding both disturbing with her troubling awareness of his far too unsettling proximity. ‘Do you think that leaving her with Avril for too long is a good idea?’
They had stopped on the path. ‘For my mother’s welfare?’ From beneath his dark lashes he regarded her with a contemplative amusement. ‘Or for yours, Sienna?’
Her throat going dry, she swallowed. Goodness! The man was perceptive!
‘Why should I be concerned for my welfare?’ she bluffed, her heart rate quickening, pretending not to understand as she sent a glance seawards to where a flotilla of sailboats sported their jaunty colours as they skirted the peninsula.
‘Why are you always so jittery when you’re alone with me?’
‘I’m not jittery.’ Who was she kidding? ‘Why should it make me jittery being alone with you?’
‘You tell me.’
The warmth of the sun on her skin was a sensuality she could well have done without, and the hum of Mediterranean insects only emphasised the pregnant silence between them.
‘Is it because I’m the only one who knows your secret, Sienna?’
She looked at him quickly, her eyes hooded and wary. ‘My secret?’
Her tone, Conan noted, was tinged with alarm. What else had she been hiding for those two and a half years she’d been married to his brother?
‘The only one who knows the kind of girl you really are,’ he elaborated.
‘You think you know. Knew,’ she corrected emphatically.
He laughed softly. ‘Whose so-called “shopping trips” to London and all those wanderings around museums were just a smokescreen for an illicit affair.’
About to deny it strongly, she felt the significance of what he’d meant when he said he was the only one who knew suddenly dawn on her, so that unthinkingly she asked, ‘You didn’t tell your mother about your suspicions?’ She found that amazing. ‘You surprise me, Conan.’ She would have thought he wouldn’t miss a chance to tell Avril exactly what he believed he’d discovered.