Marriage at the Cowboy's Command Read online

  “I am enjoying her,” Luke said, drawing her into his arms. “Having her and Daniel here puts business into perspective.”

  “But I forget my manners,” Hassan said, indicating the attractive couple on the sofa. Quickly, Hassan introduced everybody.

  “Principe Nico Romano and his lovely Principessa Regina Carina,” Hassan said. “Nico stopped by my office today and I told him about Raffi’s marriage. He’s an old friend of Raffi’s, you see. He couldn’t wait to be introduced to you.”

  “I met Nico when I first went to work for Hassan,” Luke said. “We hit it off immediately.”

  “By the way, Hassan, you can cut the titles,” Nico said.

  “Especially mine,” Regina said. “After all, I was born in America.”

  “But I thought all you Americans loved titles,” Hassan said.

  “Not so much,” Regina said. “I found them quite intimidating when I first came here. In fact, I still do. I prefer not to use mine—although it does come in handy if I run into a problem making a reservation for lunch.”

  “Where are you from?” Caitlyn asked.

  “Austin, Texas.”

  “I’m from Texas, too.”

  Regina smiled at her, radiating friendliness, warmth and acceptance.

  “I’m afraid I led a very ordinary life…until I decided to vacation in Italy and fell in love with Nico. I didn’t know he was a prince at first,” Regina said. “How romantic.”

  “Yes, it was, but in the beginning there were problems. He was a prince. I wasn’t rich. Certain people in his family didn’t think I was…suitable.”

  “That would be my mother,” Nico supplied, chuckling. “She can be formidable.”

  “In her defense, our worlds were so different, even Nico and I thought marriage was impossible.”

  “What was impossible was living without each other,” Nico said in a deep, husky tone, drawing Regina even closer.

  “We live in London because, frankly, I like living where people speak English,” Regina said.

  “And it is better for us if we don’t live too close to my mother,” Nico explained. “She’s very old-fashioned.”

  “I’m an immigration lawyer,” Regina said.

  “You work? That doesn’t sound like the life of a princess.”

  “My mother-in-law would love you for agreeing with her, wouldn’t she, darling? We have a child, a little girl. Gloriana. She’s three and our precious little whirlwind. But I have to do something besides chase her around drafty palaces and attend royal functions.”

  “I understand,” Caitlyn said.

  “Nico didn’t at first. I’m afraid it was up to me to bring the Romanos into the modern world.”

  Nico smiled indulgently, not in the least perturbed by his wife’s comments.

  “Where is Gloriana?” Caitlyn asked.

  “She has an early bedtime, so she’s home with her nanny,” Nico replied.

  Strangely, despite the elegance of Hassan’s white-and-gold suite, the extravagance of the numerous tasseled sofas, plump chairs and hassocks, the richness of the many courses of food and wines, Caitlyn found herself relaxing long before the men were offered port. She liked these people and felt comfortable with them—even if Hassan was the richest sheik in the world and the Romanos were royalty. She especially liked Regina, who’d transformed herself from an ordinary Texas girl into an Italian princess.

  Maybe there was hope for Caitlyn, too.

  “You are remarkably beautiful,” Luke said when at last they were alone in their bedroom with all of London twinkling below them. At his husky voice and hot glance, her tummy flipped.

  It took immense self-discipline to keep her gaze glued to a workboat making its way up the Thames. “Thanks to the help of your personal shopper, the eminently talented Mrs. Grayson,” she said modestly.

  His gaze slid over her in such a lingering way she blushed in anticipation of the carnal delights he was teaching her to crave.

  “I wouldn’t give her undue credit. Although the red and the stylish cut certainly become you, you would be just as breathtaking without them. I was proud of you tonight.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You seemed happy. All evening I found myself regretting that I haven’t been able to pay you enough attention since I got home. You know how it is when you leave—everything piles up so that you’re swamped doubly when you return. I will figure out how to change that.”

  Ripping his tie through his collar, he crossed the room and took her in his arms. All week, she’d lived for moments when they were alone. Closing her eyes so she could savor his clean, male smell, she parted her lips as he gathered her close.

  “But beautiful as you are in red silk, I prefer you naked,” he whispered against her ear. When he lowered his mouth to her lips, heat washed through her.

  Deftly, his hand found the zipper at the back of her dress. Within an instant the fiery silk had pooled at her feet and he was carrying her to his bed. When his tongue entered her lips, her hands around his neck tightened.

  “Oh, Luke…” Arching her slim body against his heavy erection, she sighed. “I need you so much.”

  Suddenly, she was in a bigger hurry than he was. Finding his waistband, she undid his belt. He groaned when she unbuttoned his slacks and then slid her hand inside to explore his bare skin. When she squeezed him and moaned, he inhaled a sharp breath.

  “We should slow it down, make it last.” Kneeling, he positioned himself above her but didn’t lower his body to hers. “You are exquisite.”

  “No!” she whispered, arching upward, frantic to join her body to his in the most primal way.

  “If you insist,” he murmured.

  When he finally slid inside her, she circled his waist with her hands, tugging him closer. “Yes! Yes!”

  Within seconds they were moving together, up and down, faster and faster, his hard flesh plunging inside her.

  The priceless paintings in the room blurred. She couldn’t breathe fast enough. Her fingertips climbed his spine and dug into his neck. She wanted him desperately. All too soon she was clinging, exploding, screaming. Only after her pleasure did he find his own, and when he did, she climaxed again. For a long, shuddering moment he held her perspiring body against his own, his blunt fingertips caressing her gently.

  She felt so shattered, she wept. He smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

  “It scares me the way the sex keeps getting better and better.”

  “I rather like it,” he murmured. “We can do it again if you like.”

  “I don’t like needing you so much.”

  “Why not? We’re married, aren’t we?”

  Yes, but only because he’d felt obligated, she thought, wishing with all her heart that he could truly love her.

  Eleven

  The next morning, Caitlyn awoke blushing. Her deliciously sensual dream had involved Luke making love to her while they rode Sahara across a moonlit desert. Sighing with fresh longing for Luke, she reached across the bed to touch him, but found only his empty pillow.

  Sitting up, she opened her eyes. The bedroom was bathed with soft, gray sunlight. On her bedside table lay a crisp note.

  I’ll make it a point to get home early, sweetheart.

  So, he’d left, and she wouldn’t see him for hours.

  Remembering his kisses and caresses, she shivered with yearning. Stretching, she ran her fingers through her silken hair. Then she grabbed his pillow and inhaled his clean, masculine scent.

  She felt happy. Truly happy, for the first time since he’d come back into her life.

  If he didn’t love her, he was never unkind…unless, she amended, she provoked him. The thought made her smile.

  Maybe he cared a little. Maybe even more than a little. He’d said he was proud of her. He’d acted as if he adored her. There was no denying that the sex last night had been extraordinary.

  But they never mentioned the past. He hadn’t explai
ned why he’d taken the money and run, why he’d walked out on her without saying goodbye or why he felt justified in being angry about the past. How could she trust him and build on that trust if they couldn’t talk to each other about the things that mattered?

  Despite her nagging doubts, she got up, humming to herself. Checking her cell, she saw a text from Dr. Morrow with the good news that Angel had tested negative.

  Wonderful, she thought. Still humming, she showered and went to find Daniel so they could breakfast together.

  She was still aglow an hour later when she and Daniel were riding in Hyde Park on the famous sand-covered bridleway, Rotten Row.

  “Mom, is that great big bird a seagull?” Daniel cried as he pointed to a huge bird near a fountain. “I thought everything was s’posed to be bigger in Texas.”

  “Texans do brag, but no, I don’t think that’s a seagull…although it is some kind of seabird. Very good observation. Later, we’ll have to get a bird book and look—”

  Before she could complete her answer, a man yelled her name. When she twisted in her saddle, a dozen flashes went off in their faces. She gave a cry of despair when she saw the horde of reporters stampeding toward them from behind a tall hedge.

  The paparazzi.

  It was all the stable groom could do to hold on to Daniel’s frantic horse. When Caitlyn’s gelding reared, pawing the air wildly, she dealt with him in a firm, gentle manner that soon had him under control. Then Luke’s security team surrounded them.

  “We’ve got to get you both out of here,” Thierry, the head of security said.

  A man in ripped jeans with keen gray eyes and a long-lensed camera pushed closer and fired questions at her as he took dozens of pictures.

  “Why did your husband buy Mullsley Abbey, the home he and Teresa Wellsley toured together, and then marry you?”

  “No comment,” Thierry said.

  “Excuse me.” Caitlyn blinked in confusion. “Mullsley Abbey? I don’t know anything about that.”

  “Rumors said he intended it for Teresa as a wedding gift,” the rude reporter said.

  “I don’t know anything about this!” she exclaimed.

  “Why did he marry you?” another man in thick glasses demanded.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mrs. Kilgore, did you marry him for his money?”

  “No!” she said defensively. “It was his idea to marry me! Yes, I owed money. But he’s the one who offered to help me.”

  “Isn’t that another way of saying you married him for his money?”

  “Is the kid Kilgore’s?” another asked.

  “None of your business!”

  Their questions and condescension were making her too furious to think. Fortunately, Thierry got between her and Daniel and the clamoring herd.

  “Is he Kilgore’s?”

  “No comment,” Thierry growled.

  Quickly, he helped her and Daniel dismount. Other members of the security team attended to their mounts while she and Daniel were hustled across the lawn to the safety of a black SUV. They sped away, only to be chased by a swarm of motorcycles. Big-eyed, Daniel pressed his face to the window.

  Minutes later, after having been notified by Thierry of the ruckus, Luke called her on her cell. “Are you and Daniel okay?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, staring at the motorcycles. “They…they said you bought a house you’d intended to give Teresa. Is that true?”

  He was silent for a long moment. “No.”

  “But were there rumors about it being intended as your wedding gift to her?”

  “Look, I’ll explain everything tonight when I get home.”

  “But…”

  “You said you’re both okay. That’s all that matters. We can’t worry about what the press dreams up to say about us every day for the rest of our lives. They always distort everything.” He said a tense goodbye and hung up.

  The story broke on television early in the afternoon, before Luke got home. Every talking head in Great Britain wanted to know who billionaire Luke Kilgore really loved—the English heiress or the Texan fortune hunter with the little boy.

  “I’m not a fortune hunter,” Caitlyn said to the television. “I’m not!”

  There were clips of Teresa on Luke’s arm, which must have been taken before he’d come to Texas. She was a young, ethereal blonde, who smiled at him as if she adored him. There were clips of their visit to Mullsley Abbey and its immense deer park. After these, a clip from today of Teresa in a white miniskirt, her cheeks tear-streaked as she dashed from Luke’s office building, was aired repeatedly. She was equally beautiful in tears.

  Why had Teresa gone to see Luke? Had she deliberately let the bloodhounds catch her there?

  The worst clip of all, if she didn’t count the ones of Daniel’s pale face plastered against the SUV’s window, was of an angry-looking Caitlyn defending herself by saying, “It was his idea to marry me! Yes, I owed money. But he’s the one who offered to help me.”

  After seeing that clip for what had to be the tenth time, Caitlyn flipped the channel in disgust only to find another story about Luke.

  “Billionaire Kilgore has been in the news because too many of his employees at Kommstarr see him as a rich CEO who wants to break up their company while firing talented people,” a female newscaster brayed in an accusatory tone. “Here’s what one single mother who lost her job this week has to say about him.” She handed the microphone to a pretty young woman in tattered jeans, who was bouncing a crying blue-eyed baby in her arms.

  “That’s right. I’m a single mum, I am. Where will the likes of me go in this job market? Kilgore is filthy rich, but he’s got no heart. I pity those two women, the countess and the gold digger, who are fighting over him. He may be Mr. Moneybags, but he’ll break their hearts, same as he broke mine. And my little girl’s. Just look at her—poor lamb. How am I going to feed her?”

  Behind Caitlyn, the front door slammed. She whirled just as a haggard Luke stepped into the room. His shoulders sagged as he leaned his briefcase against the wall.

  “Nothing those people are saying is true. Not a word,” he said quietly. She noted the dark circles under his eyes.

  “Of course,” she whispered. “I believe you.”

  The next clip was again that of the furious Caitlyn.

  A muscle jerked in Luke’s hard cheek.

  “That’s out of context,” she whispered defensively.

  “I’m sure it was. I told you they’d twist anything you said or did. Why did you talk to them?”

  “Because they asked me questions.”

  He crossed the room, grabbed the remote and turned off the television.

  “What about Mullsley Abbey? Is it true? Were you intending it for Teresa before you found out about Daniel?” she asked.

  “No. I visited it with her once as a regular tourist, and then I found it was for sale and became interested in it. Caitlyn, I married you. Not Teresa. I want to forget the past. I want us to start over.”

  “For Daniel’s sake?”

  “Not just for his sake, but for ours, too.”

  “Did you buy Mullsley Abbey?”

  “Yes. For us.”

  She swallowed. Not that the hard lump in her throat dissolved.

  “And what about Teresa? Did she come to see you today?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you know she was coming?”

  He nodded. “She called me yesterday.”

  Yesterday? So, last night when he’d held her in his arms and made love to her, he’d known he would see Teresa today. Had he been trying to manipulate Caitlyn with sex?

  “Did you tell her that you felt like you had to marry me…because of Daniel?”

  “No, because that’s not the only reason I married you. Look, I’m sorry that I’m getting so much negative publicity right now. The takeover makes me a hot news item, so that makes you…us…and Teresa…into a secondary story—an imaginary love triangle.”

  Ima
ginary?

  “I’m sorry about it, but I can’t help it,” he continued. “Are they discussing the factory I’m opening in Bedfordshire and all the new jobs there? No. The networks are after ratings—period. If I were you, I wouldn’t watch the so-called news for a while.”

  “How else can I know what they’re saying? Or what you’re doing?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

  “It matters to me.”

  “It isn’t real.”

  “When I see myself being quoted and accused of being a gold digger, it feels real,” she said.

  “You said they distorted what you meant. Well, they twist my actions, too. You know you’re not a gold digger.”

  “Do I? You said you’d finance Wild Horse Ranch if I married you, and you did.”

  “I wanted you to marry me. I would have said anything or done anything to achieve that.”

  “But the fact is, your wealth, your ability to save the ranch was a factor in my decision to marry you. So, in a sense, I am a gold digger.”

  “Okay. My money’s an issue, then. But that doesn’t make you a gold digger. You can concentrate on the negative or the positive.” He paused. “I would like to make our marriage work.”

  Was he telling the truth? she wondered.

  “Those people are after one thing—salacious stories. They lie. They exaggerate. My fame and wealth will always make us vulnerable to this kind of attack. But fame is an illusion. It’s just an opinion held by some people, all of them strangers, because I’m wealthy and own public companies. They don’t know me, the man. Or you. Or what I feel about you. What they say doesn’t need to have anything to do with us.”

  He’d bought the house he and Teresa had looked at together. He’d known she was dropping by the office. Those facts were real.

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she said slowly.

  “I’ve been at this awhile. My advice is don’t watch this stuff. What we need is time to ourselves to adjust to our new life together.”