Bound By Contract

CAROLE MORTIMER says, “I was born in England, the youngest of three children—I have two older brothers. I started writing in 1978, and have now written over a hundred books for Mills & Boon®.

“I have four sons—Matthew, Joshua, Timothy and Peter—and a bearded collie dog called Merlyn. I’m very happily married to Peter senior. We’re best friends as well as lovers, which is probably the best recipe for a successful relationship. We live on the Isle of Man.”

Bound by Contract

Carole Mortimer

MILLS & BOON

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My husband,

Peter

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

COPYRIGHT

PROLOGUE

‘I DON’T care what you thought, Edgar—I’m not interested in taking on one of your women!’

Edgar drew in a sharply angry breath. Gideon hadn’t even let him finish saying what he wanted to say before jumping down his throat—something that just didn’t happen to Edgar. As the owner of a production company, Edgar didn’t often come up against opposition, and certainly not in this bluntly verbal way. But then, when had Gideon ever been anything else? It was just as well he thought of Gideon almost as his son, otherwise the younger man would now be feeling the brunt of his own anger.

Edgar had invited Gideon to this weekend party at his country home with the sole intention of introducing him to Madison. Unfortunately, Gideon had told him a short time ago that he would be leaving early in the morning, and Madison wasn’t due to arrive until mid-afternoon, meaning that Edgar had to talk to him about Madison now…

And so, instead of giving the younger man the short, sharp reply he wanted to give, he gave him a look of intense irritation. ‘Madison is not one of my women, damn it—she’s my god-daughter!’

‘That makes a change from nieces!’ the younger man scorned. ‘And considering you’re an only child it’s amazing where they keep appearing from; two in the last six months, I believe!’

‘I wasn’t aware anyone was counting,’ Edgar felt stung into replying; he was a bachelor, for goodness’ sake, and if at sixty-two he still found women attractive and beddable, he didn’t expect to have to answer to anyone for it! ‘I will say this once again, Gideon—and I’ll emphasise this only once,’ he added harshly; he might be very fond of Gideon, but the younger man’s derision was unacceptable. ‘Madison is the daughter of—an old friend of mine. She also happens to be an actress.’

Gideon, as a director, was in the process of casting his next film, and Edgar, as the head of the production company that Gideon was currently working for, had someone in mind for the lead of that film. Unfortunately, as Gideon himself was too aware, he was the director of the moment. He had walked off with the Best Director award at the Oscars the previous year, and it had been a feather in Edgar’s cap that he’d managed to persuade Gideon to come back to England and work for his production company. But Gideon’s own superior position almost meant Edgar didn’t have the sway he would usually have with most other directors…

Gideon’s mouth tightened. ‘And I have never used the casting-couch approach when casting my films—and I’m not about to start now! Not even second-hand,’ he added pointedly.

Edgar had to try very hard to hold on to his temper this time. Gideon was a good twenty years younger than him, and physically fitter than Edgar had been for some years—but, even so, Edgar could feel his own temper rising to the pitch of violence. ‘I merely asked that you stay on until tomorrow afternoon so that you can meet Madison,’ he said icily. ‘I said nothing about going to bed with her!’

Gideon’s mouth twisted mockingly. ‘That’s as well—I prefer to pick my own bed-partners!’

Edgar sighed. ‘I think we’re straying from the point here.’

‘Not at all,’ the younger man dismissed. ‘You assured me I had a free hand with this film. Hell, you almost begged me to work for your production company—’

‘I think “beg” is exaggerating things rather, Gideon,’ he cut in dryly.

‘Sorry,’ Gideon returned without a tinge of regret in his voice, his mouth twisted with distaste. ‘You probably prefer to save that for your nieces. Or god-daughters!’ he added coldly.

Edgar didn’t doubt that the young man was angry, and he was fond of Gideon—but even so…! ‘I think you’re going too far, Gideon,’ he challenged. ‘We go back a long way ourselves, and of course your father and I remained friends even after—’

‘I don’t ever recall using any of my family connections with you when we agreed that I’d work for your company,’ Gideon cut in harshly, having stiffened defensively. ‘So why don’t we just agree not to discuss my father—or your god-daughter—for the rest of my stay here? Which ends in the morning,’ he added pointedly.

Once again Edgar drew in a sharply angry breath. He’d certainly hit upon a raw nerve by mentioning Gideon’s father. He would have been wiser not to have mentioned John—and definitely not to have almost mentioned the scandal that had ruined his career. He’d made a tactical error; Gideon’s anger was not what he wanted at the moment. What he really wanted was for Gideon to stay here until tomorrow afternoon and meet Madison…!

For that reason Edgar again swallowed his own anger, visibly relaxing. ‘I can assure you that Madison is not what you think she is,’ he told the younger man smoothly. ‘She’s very talented—’

‘What’s her full name?’

‘Madison McGuire.’

‘Never heard of her,’ Gideon dismissed scathingly, glancing around at the twenty or so other guests at Edgar’s home for the weekend, obviously bored by their own conversation.

Edgar noticed that Gideon was distracted—and it angered him again. ‘And you’re never likely to if you won’t even meet her!’ he snapped. ‘You want an unknown to play Rosemary; you said so yourself.’

‘But it will be an unknown of my own choosing, not yours!’ Gideon rasped, his grey eyes glacial as he met Edgar’s gaze. ‘Does she know about all this?’ he scorned. ‘Is that why you’re pushing so hard? Does she think the part is already hers?’ His mouth twisted scathingly.

He had pushed enough for the moment, Edgar realised; if he pushed any more just now Gideon might leave before he produced his pièce de résistance!

‘Madison knows nothing about this conversation, Gideon,’ he assured him smoothly; Madison would be no more pleased than Gideon if she did! ‘Why don’t we just forget about this for now—?’

‘Let’s just forget it—period, Edgar,’ the other man drawled in a bored voice.

Edgar had no intention of doing any such thing. He was doing the right thing by introducing Madison to Gideon; he was sure of it. He just hoped that Susan, darling Susan, would forgive him when she found out what he had done! Susan…

‘It’s time to watch my private showing of the new Tony Lawrence film,’ he told the younger man after receiving the signal from his manservant. ‘I’m sure you’re going to love it.’ He wasn’t sure of any such thing, but he was hoping—oh, yes, he was hoping…

But Gideon’s expression, as he sat beside him before the lights went down in the private theatre in the basement of the house, didn’t augur well. And so much depended on the next few minutes, so much more than even Gideon could guess. Otherwise he would already have walked out…!

Edgar kept his eyes on the screen, but he was completely aware of the man sitting next to him. He knew exactly the moment Madison appeared, could feel Gideon’s sudden tension, the way he sat forward in his seat, that habitual air of boredom that could be so irritating totally dissipated as his gaze was now riveted to the screen.

Yes!

Edgar could barely contain his own excitement. He was certain Gideon had taken the hook. Now all it depended on was whether or not they could get him to take the bait…!

One thing he did know: Gideon would not be leaving here early tomorrow morning, after all…

CHAPTER ONE

‘I NEVER believed in mermaids until this moment!’

She didn’t even open her eyes. The man with the silkily smooth voice was sure to be one of her uncle’s guests, and from the little she had seen of them since her arrival he wouldn’t be worth opening her eyes for!

She’d flown in from America only this afternoon; she was tired, jet-lagged, and desperate for sleep—which had proved impossible; her uncle had a houseful of guests for the weekend—noisy guests who seemed to invade most of the house.

She’d finally taken refuge in the swimming pool that took up half the basement of the house. Drifting on an airbed, she felt the warmth of the water relaxing her in a way that couldn’t be found in the main part of the house. The last thing she needed—or wanted—was to be found by one of her uncle’s guests!

‘No fish-tail,’ she murmured disparagingly as she wriggled her toes pointedly, still half asleep, her hands trailing in the warmth of the water. Her body looked youthfully slender in a turquoise-coloured bikini, while her long blonde hair trailed in the water behind her.

‘Mermaids don’t have fish-tails when on land,’ the man murmured mockingly.

‘But I’m in the water,’ she answered impatiently, keeping her face averted from the direction of his voice, wishing she’d never entered into the verbal exchange; perhaps if she had kept quiet he would have just gone away!

‘On the water,’ the man corrected her smoothly. ‘Tell me, is that accent for real, or are you just rehearsing for a part?’ he added derisively.

Her mouth tightened. She wanted some peace and quiet; surely the fact that she was down here alone made that more than obvious? And yet this man persisted in talking to her, even passing comment on her American accent. In fact, he was a damned nuisance!

‘Is that accent for real?’ she returned in a perfect imitation of his educated English accent. ‘Or are you just rehearsing for a part?’

‘Touché,’ he murmured appreciatively.

‘What makes you think I’m an actress?’ She felt drawn into asking, becoming intrigued in spite of herself.

‘Most, if not all, of Edgar’s guests this weekend are involved in the acting world,’ the man drawled.

‘Including yourself?’ she prompted lightly.

‘Including myself,’ he confirmed dryly.

She wasn’t impressed. Her mother had been full of dire warnings when she’d told her she wanted to be an actress, but one piece of her mother’s advice she had learnt to take to heart: never become involved with anyone else in the business!

It was something she had to admit she’d learnt the hard way, falling for one of the male leads in the first play she’d ever been in off-Broadway. What she hadn’t realised at the time was that his interest would last only as long as the run of the play—all of three weeks!—when he would then move on to the next play, the next gullible actress. She was still smarting from the experience. Of the man. And the folded play.

Which was why she’d taken one look at the guests here today and disappeared to the peace of the indoor swimming-pool; she could spend some time with Edgar once the other guests had gone. She still felt too emotionally raw to mix with the ‘beautiful people’ just yet!

She certainly hadn’t expected to have her privacy invaded in this way. But then, the man had said he was involved in acting, so he was sure to be full of—

God, she was still angry at Gerry for turning out to be every inch the bastard her mother had warned her that actors could be! She’d thought she was over it, but obviously not…

Perhaps it was time she took a look at this mystery man. Who knew? He might just be the answer to every woman’s prayer! Hell, she was becoming cynical on top of everything else!

‘Everything else’ was her disastrous love-affair with Gerry, and the fact that she was temporarily ‘resting’. That sounded so interesting, but all it really meant was that she was out of work—again. All she had to show for her time at drama school was one walk-on part in a film, and a play that had folded after only three weeks; she ‘rested’ more than she worked!

‘I shouldn’t fall asleep in there, if I were you,’ the man said mockingly, infuriatingly interrupting her solitude once again, letting her know that he hadn’t gone away, as she’d hoped he might.

‘Look, I thank you for your advice,’ she snapped sarcastically, ‘but I’ll do what the hell I—’ Her angry retort died on her lips as she finally turned her head to look at her tormenter. No! It couldn’t be! This man was— ‘You—! I—!’ Her shocked surprise was lost in a gurgle of water as, having now turned fully sideways to look at him, she totally lost her balance, falling into the water with a splash and a tangle of graceful limbs.

That man!

She knew him!

No, she didn’t know him! She just—

God, this water tasted awful. And she seemed to be swallowing most of the pool. It was—

She had to get to the surface. She was slowly sinking to the bottom, and—

Suddenly there was a movement of water beside her, the strength of an arm about her waist, and she was being pulled roughly to the surface.

She would have started to swim to the side then, but that arm remained about her like a steel band, turning her over on to her back as she was pulled over to the side of the pool, before being dumped unceremoniously on to the side.

Even as she opened her mouth to protest at this man’s rough handling of her she felt herself being rolled over on to her stomach, hands pounding against her back.

‘Stop it!’ she finally gasped, fighting for breath, her hands flying backwards as she tried to stop that painful pummelling. ‘You’re hurting me!’ she cried impotently.

‘Hurting you!’ he repeated harshly, turning her over on to her back, a knee at either side of her body as he straddled her, cold water dripping over her from his wet clothes. ‘I’d like to tan your backside!’ His face was contorted with anger. ‘Are you totally stupid, going into a pool alone when you can’t even swim? I take back what I said about the mermaid; you looked like a stranded whale just now!’

She opened her mouth to protest at this verbal attack, and then closed it again. This man looked ready to carry out his threat to smack her!

Which wasn’t surprising, when he’d obviously jumped into the water fully clothed in order to save her…!

No, she mustn’t laugh—or she had no doubt he would tan her backside! This wasn’t the time to see the funny side of this. That would have to come later!

‘How gracious of you,’ she drawled. ‘But, contrary to what you may think, I can swim—very well, as it happens.’ She had just been so surprised by the identity of this man that she’d forgotten to swim.

Gideon Byrne. Oscar-winning film director. She’d watched the awards on television herself the previous year, seen him as he’d gone up on to the stage to collect his award, heard his brief acceptance speech. Tall and dark, with metallic-grey eyes, he had a presence that would have been electric on stage or film, but he’d chosen to use his talent behind rather than in front of the camera, and was as far removed from her in the world of acting as the sun was from the moon—and she had been treating him as nothing more than an irritating intrusion!

‘Then I can only assume that on this occasion you lost your sense of direction—because you were heading for the bottom of the pool, not the top!’ he scorned disgustedly, finally moving off her to sit down at the side of the pool, pushing an agitated hand through the dark wetness of his hair.

She became aware of her own dishevelled appearance, her hair a blonde tangle about her shoulders and down her back, her bikini affording her little cover. But then, she hadn’t expected to see anyone. Or for anyone to see her!

She stood up in one fluid movement, moving to the lounger where she’d left her robe when she’d come down earlier. Pulling it on, she instantly felt warmer, and better able to deal with the situation.

‘I really am sorry, Mr Byrne,’ she began apologetically. ‘I—’

‘You know who I am?’ he snapped harshly as he turned to look at her with coldly accusing eyes.

‘Of course,’ she acknowledged smoothly. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’ she added lightly as he continued to glare at her.

She would have been decidedly out of touch in the acting world if she hadn’t recognised this man. After his success the previous year the newspapers had been full of photographs and articles about him. Admittedly he was usually scowling in those photographs, but—

Not so different from now, really, she realised ruefully. She’d thought at the time that he probably didn’t like having his photograph taken, that he was one of those directors who believed it was his work that was important, not his private life. But maybe it was just that he rarely smiled, after all…

‘Not that I’m aware,’ he dismissed coldly, standing up, giving her the full benefit of just how wet he actually was.

He was wearing black denims and a pale grey shirt—silk, if she weren’t mistaken—and both articles of clothing were clinging to him. And, while the wetness of that clothing revealed just how masculine he was, his shoulders wide and powerful, his stomach flat, his hips tapered, he must also be very uncomfortable. And all because he’d thought she was drowning!

‘You underestimate your fame, Mr Byrne,’ she answered lightly. ‘And I think perhaps you should get out of those wet clothes,’ she suggested, with a guilty grimace. ‘Before you catch pneumonia!’

‘Not very likely in this hot-house.’ But be began to unbutton his shirt anyway, revealing the dark hair that grew on his wide chest as he pulled the clinging material away from him and threw the dripping shirt down on to the tiled floor, before unbuttoning his denims, obviously with the intention of doing the same thing with them.

Much to her dismay! She might be twenty-two, and not a complete innocent where men were concerned, but she didn’t usually have complete strangers stripping off in front of her, either!

‘Er—I think Uncle Edgar left one of his robes in the changing room.’ She turned away awkwardly. ‘I’ll go and check for you.’ She moved hastily away, her cheeks hot with embarrassment, as Gideon Byrne continued to strip off his denims. Admittedly, he was wearing black briefs underneath, but there was no guarantee he wasn’t going to strip those off next…!

Gideon Byrne, she thought breathlessly as she hurried to the changing room, trying to remember exactly what it was she had read about him in the newspapers the previous year. Thirty-eight, dark brown hair, grey eyes, unmarried, only child of the long-dead actor John Byrne…

But none of those cold facts could have prepared her for the flesh-and-blood man. How could the newspapers possibly describe the aura of electric energy that surrounded the man, or the cynicism that coloured every word he spoke? They couldn’t. They hadn’t!

Well, at least she had found the perfect cure for jet-lag; one dose of Gideon Byrne, and all the tiredness from her journey had completely left her!

Uncle Edgar hadn’t mentioned that he had such a famous guest staying here when he’d met her at the airport earlier, or since her arrival at the house. If he had done, she might have been more prepared!

However, she was no more prepared for the sheer physical male beauty of his body when she returned with the robe—although, thankfully, he had kept the black briefs on!

She guessed he was well over six feet in height—as he seemed to tower over her five feet eight inches. His muscular body was deeply tanned; muscles rippled powerfully beneath his skin, and there was a fine sprinkling of dark hair over all of his body, becoming much thicker on the width of his chest. He was gorgeous!

‘Thanks.’

She stared at him blankly for several seconds, wondering if she had spoken those words out loud, realising she hadn’t as he held his hand out for the robe she carried.

‘Sorry,’ she muttered awkwardly, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her own towelling robe once he’d taken the one she was holding to pull on over his near-nakedness.

‘Uncle Edgar?’ He quirked dark brows at her questioningly as he tied the belt in place.

‘It’s an honorary title.’ She was relieved to talk of something normal after the impact this man had made on her senses, hoping she wasn’t making too big an idiot of herself. Although she thought she probably was! ‘My name is Madison McGuire,’ she told him lightly, holding out her hand. ‘Edgar Remington is my godfather.’

Gideon Byrne didn’t look impressed by this explanation; his mouth twisted scornfully as he touched her hand only lightly in return. Although it was enough for Madison to feel the thrill of electricity that ran up her arm. That aura didn’t just surround him, it went right through him!

‘Edgar is many things, to many people, but this is the first time I’ve heard him referred to as The Godfather!’ he drawled.

Madison gave him a look of amused reproval. ‘I doubt he would be flattered by that name!’

‘Probably not,’ Gideon Byrne accepted dryly. ‘But he’s a first-class manipulator nonetheless!’

She had known Edgar Remington all of her life. She knew him as a good friend of her parents, and also as her benevolent godfather, but she was aware there had to be another side to him, the side that headed one of the top film production companies in the world, and headed it well.

As a film director, perhaps that was the side of him that Gideon Byrne knew best…?

‘I wouldn’t know about that,’ Madison dismissed with a shrug; her very minor part in a film might have been in one produced by Edgar’s company, but even so she had had no contact with her uncle because of it, her almost non-existent role having been filmed on location in Scotland.

But what she did know was that dinner was going to be in an hour, and her hair was drying into tangles; she needed a shower and to wash her hair before the meal. She had half excused herself from attending dinner to Edgar earlier, saying she was too tired to be very good company for anyone, but after meeting this man she was wide awake. And hungry, she inwardly acknowledged.

‘Wouldn’t you?’

She gave Gideon a startled look, as much for the coldness of his tone as for the question itself. Was it her imagination, or was there an accusing edge to his voice? And, if so, what possible reason could this man have for feeling that way?

She gave a puzzled frown, shaking her head. ‘It’s getting late, Mr Byrne—’

‘Call me Gideon,’ he rasped harshly.