Claimed By The Wealthy Magnate

‘Until today I wasn’t a hundred per cent sure.’

Her hands twisted together on her lap. Then, as if aware of the gesture, she loosed the grip. ‘You could just have called me. This is a disaster—now you’ve made contact with my family...we have an association.’ Horror etched her classical features. ‘What if we end up meeting again?’

‘Then so be it. I wanted to see you face to face—make sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are “Lynette”. Without calling first and giving you a chance to lie. Again.’

Forcing himself to lean back, Daniel kept his anger in check.

‘Plus, it’s hard to call someone who didn’t leave a number, didn’t even give their real name, and who vanished without so much as a goodbye.’

‘You knew it was one night only.’

A night of freedom.

‘Yes, but I didn’t know your “one night of freedom” was an aristocrat slumming it with the hoi-polloi.’ Anger at her deception, wrath at his own stupidity in falling for her show, fuelled his words. ‘Is that the new trend—to lose your vir—?’

Her poise broke and a laser of ire flashed in her eyes. ‘Stop right there. How dare you? That is not what it was. That night was—’

Breaking off, she pressed her lips together and for a moment vulnerability lit those emerald-green eyes and momentarily sideswiped his anger.

‘Was what?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I know it was shabby to leave like that, but I had no choice. In case you woke up and realised who I really was. Or someone might have recognised me...seen us together.’

Sheesh.

‘Would that have been so bad?’ Good thing his ego was in good shape.

‘Yes.’ The word was delivered with simplicity. ‘The scandal would have been too much. Especially...’

‘Especially because you were planning to marry a prince.’

‘No! I mean... I hadn’t decided what to do.’ She twisted her hands into the teal-green folds of her skirt and then, as if realising what she was doing, she smoothed the material and pulled her shoulders back. ‘I wasn’t dating Frederick at the time, but I knew there was a possibility that I would in the future. I was a free agent that night, Daniel, and I didn’t offer more than I could give. One night.’

‘But you lied. And you took what I gave under false pretences. I wouldn’t have spent the night with you in Barcelona if I’d known who you were and exactly what your gilded cage was.’

‘Why not?’ The question tumbled out and she pressed her lips together as if in regret.

‘Because you were as good as promised to another man and I don’t poach.’ The idea was anathema—he’d watched his mother’s repeated humiliation at his stepfather’s numerous infidelities.

Kaitlin leant forward, shook her head, her red-gold hair swinging as if in emphasis. ‘I was not promised to anyone. Frederick and I had no understanding at that point. It was simply an idea that my parents had put to me. He hadn’t approached me—there had been no discussions.’

‘But you knew.’ His voice was implacable. ‘All the time you were with me you knew that you would soon be dating someone else. You as good as said it.’

‘One night of freedom before I step into a gilded cage.’

Her words in Barcelona had been poignant. Because he knew all too well the iron bars of a gilded cage.

He’d grown up in one—benefited from the gilding, the luxuries, the power, the money, the lifestyle. At what point had he suspected that all those advantages had been bought with money raised from illegal sources? When had he realised what his mother had done?

Guilt coated his insides. She’d done it for him—to give him all those advantages. His father had been dead, she had been destitute, and so his mother had stepped into a gilded cage, married into the mob, and taken two-year-old Daniel in with her.

Enough. That part of his life was over. Here and now he focused on Kaitlin, studied her cool, aloof expression, and felt curiosity as to her motivations surface. ‘I don’t get why you took such an enormous risk.’

Because every scrap of research he had done on Kaitlin Derwent had shown that risk wasn’t in her personality. Never a hair out of place...always ready with a witty quip or the correct comment. Always serene, poised, calm and in control—not the type of person to risk a scandal for a one-night stand. Yet that was exactly what she had done.

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Her tone had lost all colour, and a sudden image of ‘Lynette’ filled his mind—her vivacity, the way she’d laughed, spoken, enthused. It seemed almost impossible that Lynette and Kaitlin were one and the same.

Not his business. Kaitlin was right. It didn’t matter—he’d come here to satisfy his curiosity, confirm his near conviction. No more.

Kaitlin glanced around. ‘We’ve been out here too long; people will start to talk soon. I need to go. This is Gabe’s wedding—I don’t want to ruin it in any way.’ She closed her eyes for a second. ‘But we need to finish this conversation.’

They did? As far as he was concerned it was over bar the farewell. But Kaitlin clearly disagreed.

‘I’d appreciate a few more minutes of your time. Maybe tomorrow?’

‘Sure.’ Curiosity prompted his acquiescence. Along with the knowledge that it was never wise to refuse information. All good lawyers knew that information was power. The last thing he wanted was for this farce to come back and bite him in the future. If Lady Kaitlin Derwent believed there was an issue to discuss then he’d go along for the ride.

‘Breakfast. Tomorrow. Faircliffe Hotel. I’ll book a private room.’

‘Thank you.’ She gave a fatalistic lift of her shoulders. ‘I’ll be there.’

* * *

The morning spring sunshine slanted through the windows of the hotel bedroom, reflecting off the mirror where Kaitlin surveyed her reflection. She put the final touches to her discreet layer of make-up—the mask that ensured Lady Kaitlin retained her image of cool perfection.

‘I wish you’d tell me what is going on,’ her sister said from where she sat on the bed.

Not surprisingly, given it was the closest hotel in the neighbourhood, Cora and her husband, Rafael, had stayed in the same hotel as Daniel the previous night. Kaitlin had figured it was better to tell Cora about the meeting rather than have her twin waylay her en route to breakfast. Now she was beginning to think she should just have kept quiet. Cora had insisted on seeing Kaitlin before the meeting, and her dark blue eyes reflected her usual intuitive discern.

Kaitlin met her sister’s gaze in the mirror. ‘Nothing is going on.’

‘Rubbish. I’m your twin, Kait. There are times when I just know, and this is one of them.’

It was true—there was a bond, despite how different she and Cora were. Years before, when the kidnap had occurred, her twin had been distraught, refusing to believe her parents assertion that Kaitlin was staying with friends.

There were times when Kaitlin wished she had rebelled against her parents’ dictate and confided in Cora. But she hadn’t—she’d convinced herself that if she supressed the memories, locked them away, they would become a dream, lose the sharp edges of reality. So she’d done what her parents had instructed her to do—and never told a soul what had happened.

‘What’s done is done, Kaitlin. The important thing now is to forget it ever happened. And never, ever disobey us again.’ The Duchess’s stern voice had hardened further. ‘You understand that no one must ever know. It shows us as weak and, worse, those kidnappers have photos of you that cannot be made public. You will not disgrace the Derwent name.’

‘Kait?’ Cora’s voice was edged with concern, and Kaitlin focused on her twin. ‘Is it something to do with the Prince? Because I’ve wanted to talk to you about Frederick for a long time and...’

Kaitlin had used guile and every conversational trick in the library to avoid the subject. ‘I don’t need to discuss Fredrick.’

‘Well, I do. All I want to say is that before I met Rafael I would have done anything to win Mum and Dad’s approval. Because I thought that was the way to win their love.’

‘I—’

Cora raised a hand. ‘Let me finish. I need to say this. Don’t marry him if you don’t love him. Love has transformed my life and I’d like you to have an opportunity to feel the way I feel.’

And there was the crux of the matter. Lady Kaitlin didn’t do feelings—couldn’t feel, didn’t want to experience the tsunami of emotions that might be unleashed if she allowed feelings in.

‘Cora, I am truly happy for you, and your happiness, but everyone experiences happiness in a different way. My road is different from yours.’ Ignoring the small sigh from her sister, she glanced at her watch. ‘Now, I’ve got to go.’

Suspicion narrowed Cora’s blue eyes. ‘That’s another thing. I’m getting a vibe about Daniel Harrington as well. Remind me why you’re meeting him.’

‘I told you. He wants to discuss a project—and, given the amount he donated to the Derwent Manor restoration fund, I think it’s polite to at least see what he has to say. And he’s linked to the Caversham Foundation.’

That should reassure Cora, bearing in mind her friendship with Ethan and Ruby Caversham.

Kaitlin rose from the dressing table in one graceful move and cast a last look in the mirror, taking comfort in the fact that outwardly no one except her pesky twin would be able to tell her inner self was in turmoil. The dove-grey light wool coat dress was perfect for the occasion. It spoke of an aloof elegance with businesslike overtones that would assure any nosey reporter that this breakfast had no innuendo attached. The intricate hand-stitched ribbon embroidered around the neck and falling across the front gave it the Kaitlin Derwent ‘edge’, and she gave a small satisfied nod.

‘I’ll see you later, Cora. And quit worrying.’

As Kaitlin exited the room and made her way down the carpeted grand staircase of the country hotel her heart pounded her ribcage. It was only the years of practice that kept her upright. Her gaze darted around the lobby in an automatic check for danger even as she focused on keeping her gait unhurried.

She managed a smile for Sophia, the member of staff who manned the small desk that led to the breakfast room. ‘I have a meeting with Daniel Harrington.’

The girl nodded with enthusiasm. ‘Mr Harrington has booked for a private room. Come through here.’

‘Thank you.’ She followed the girl into a small room and braced herself as Daniel rose from the table to greet her.

‘Lady Kaitlin.’

To her relief his voice was formal, but as she met his gaze she saw something flash in his eyes and her own body instinctively responded. Knowing her voice would suffer from lack of breath, she nodded in acknowledgement.

‘Can I get you anything?’ Sophia asked,

‘We’re good, thanks.’

There was silence when the young woman had left.

Get it together, Kaitlin.

If only this man didn’t affect her so much. Her expert eye recognised the quality of the understated light blue silk cotton shirt and suit trousers. But it wasn’t the expensive clothes—it was the raw energy they contained, the solid, muscular bulk of his body, the strength of his craggy features, the square determination of his jaw and the set of his lips.

Lips that had given her such aching pleasure she nearly shivered with the memory.

Get it together now, Kaitlin.

He gestured to the side table pushed against the wall of the room. ‘Help yourself to food.’

Kaitlin contemplated refusing, unsure whether she could physically eat, given the fact her tummy was busy tying itself up in a lanyard of knots. But this was supposedly a business breakfast, and therefore she’d do better to play along. The last thing she wanted was for the hotel staff to notice anything amiss.

Two minutes later she seated herself at the circular table, with a plate holding a croissant, a dab of butter and a small pot of strawberry jam in front of her. Somehow she had to focus—she was here to negotiate herself out of this mess. Channelling every single iota of her inner poise, she managed a cool smile. Whatever it cost her she would not show Daniel even a particle of her discomfort.

‘So, Kaitlin. You requested this meeting. Why?’

‘I need to know what you plan to do.’

For a fleeting second confusion flashed across his face, and then a small mirthless smile tipped his lips up. ‘You’re worried I’ll go public with the whole Barcelona story?’

‘Yes.’

In truth, the idea of the press getting hold of this made her quake. Her parents would... Her imagination couldn’t even begin to conjure up the Duke’s and Duchess’s reactions. But it was more than that...

‘I realise you have no obligation not to,’ she continued quietly, ‘but it wouldn’t just impact me. The scandal would affect Prince Frederick as well.’

The House of Lycander had been besmirched by more than its fair share of disgrace and rocked by tragedy, and the idea that she might add to Frederick’s troubles filled her with horror.

‘I don’t want my stupidity to discredit Frederick or make him look a fool in the eyes of the media.’

‘Because you love him?’

The question was posed as though the answer mattered and it caused her vocal chords to tighten.

‘Or because it would make your relationship and marriage to him problematical?’

Perhaps she should lie—claim that she did love Frederick, throw herself on Daniel’s mercy. Ha! Instinct informed her that that wouldn’t work, because she sensed he didn’t have any. But, more than that, she didn’t want to lie—she’d lied enough.

‘That’s none of your business. I will not discuss Prince Frederick with you. That’s not fair to him.’

‘You didn’t worry about fairness in Barcelona.’

‘I told you—I hadn’t met him then. Or at least I hadn’t started to date him.’

‘But you knew you were going to.’

Daniel’s voice was soft, but the edge could have cut a diamond. Easy to imagine him in a courtroom now.

‘All the time you were with me you knew that you would soon be dating someone else.’

The contempt in his voice made her feel exposed and she leant forward, needing him to understand even as she knew she shouldn’t care about his opinion.

‘Yes.’ There could be no denial there, but she’d be damned if she apologised either. ‘But I didn’t plan that night. I didn’t go to Barcelona to have a one-night stand.’

‘Why did you go?’

‘I had a moment of panic.’

‘No. A moment of panic is when you have a few drinks, breathe into a paper bag or eat your bodyweight in chocolate. It’s not when you assume a fake identity and sleep with a stranger.’

‘OK. So I had a spectacular moment of panic.’

‘Because of Prince Frederick? That seems extreme. No one was going to march you to the altar on the spot.’

‘I know that.’

How to explain panic to this man? A man who clearly knew who he was and what he wanted from life. To Kaitlin, panic was a mortal enemy—kept on a leash, tamed by her determination not to let it conquer her. Time had taught her the best way to achieve dominance was control—if she micromanaged every second of her life, created a secure zone, a persona that was in command, that way she won.

‘I just wanted some space to process the future...some time out. The plan was to stay in my hotel room and order room service. Instead...’ She tipped a palm up and let out a sigh.

Instead she’d deviated from the script for the first time in a decade, stepped out of her comfort zone and into disaster.

‘Instead you ended up with me. It doesn’t make sense. As far as I can tell, from the publicity that surrounds you, you are the personification of discretion. You’ve never so much as been caught tipsy, and any relationships you have had haven’t caused even a breath of scandal. As for you and Prince Frederick—you haven’t even been seen holding hands in public...’

Impossible to explain that there was no spark between her and Prince Frederick—had never been a spark with any man until Daniel. Dating Frederick was calm, correct and dutiful. In truth that had surprised her as much as it had relieved her. Prince Frederick of Lycander had once been a noted playboy—had ‘dated’, for want of a better euphemism, plenty of women, and been photographed on yachts and in night clubs. But clearly that wasn’t the way he treated a possible wife. Formal duty characterised their relationship, and that suited her fine.

‘I agree it didn’t make sense. I acted out of character and it was a mistake.’ Of enormous proportions.

The sparks between her and Daniel had set off an inferno that could affect the rest of her life.

‘So now you’ve decided to enter the gilded cage? That’s the gilded cage you were talking about in Barcelona, isn’t it?’

The words slammed into her—seemed to echo across the months.

‘The Lycander marriage.’

Kaitlin summoned as much aristocratic hauteur as was possible. ‘My marriage is my business and I know what I’m doing.’

Amazing she could say that with a straight face. No! She did know what she was doing; it was just this man, this horrible scenario, that was messing with her head.

‘There is nothing wrong with a gilded cage.’

‘Dammit. There is everything wrong with a gilded cage.’

The force in his voice made her jump, caused her heart to pound.

‘It’s a prison of the worst kind.’

Bleakness flashed across his blue eyes and for a mad second she wanted to reach out and offer comfort. Ridiculous. She had to focus on what was important here.

‘You are entitled to your opinion, but I disagree.’

His fingers drummed the snowy white linen of the tablecloth and his gaze seemed to bore into her soul. ‘That’s not what you thought nine months ago.’’

‘Yes, it is. I had a moment of insanity that night, but however mad I was I always knew what my future held.’

Daniel shook his head and she wondered why this mattered so much to him. She felt an urge to ask—a wish that this conversation didn’t have to be so antagonistic. A sudden memory of the conversations they’d shared that Barcelona night clouded her mind: the ease, the banter, the sharing of opinions. Compared with the sophisticated, carefully constructed exchange of her talk with Frederick. Enough. Bad enough that her body was on alert—heaven help her if her mind joined the party.

‘And I should never have jeopardised it with a meaningless one-night stand.’

His eyebrows rose. ‘Meaningless?’ he repeated softly.

‘Meaningless on any real level.’ It was impossible to infuse her words with more than a mocking semblance of truth—not when she knew that their night together had been little short of a miracle for her.

‘You sure about that?’

His voice deepened and Kaitlin caught her breath on the smallest of gasps. She dropped her gaze from the look in his eye. The ice-blue had darkened to cobalt and she knew what she would see in their depths—the memory of the levels, the sheer heights of the passion they had scaled. Heat crept up her cheekbones and her gaze lingered on his hands, on their strength, their capability, and an image flashed into her brain. The touch of his fingers as they’d caressed her skin...her own fingers trailing down the skin of his bare back...the ripple of muscle, the taste of...

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