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Authors: Arabella Kingsley

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BOOK: The Art of Retaliation
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The billionaire wound his hands around Mara’s slim waist and lifted
her back onto the bed.

 

“Hush.
 
I want him to
check that your ankle isn’t broken and to check out these dizzy spells
again.
 
They are getting more
frequent.”

 

“But we know what they are.”

 

“My sister thought it was stress and now she has a brain tumor,” he
said firmly thinking of Louise and her fainting spells.
 
“Call me pedantic but I want it looked
at again and a check kept on you. Now stay put while I run the bath.”

 

Stephane
made sure
he was quick and was back in an instant to lift her up in to his arms and carry
her to the bath.
 
He loved carrying
her and playing the protective caring man.
 
Despite her feisty nature she was a beautiful fragile little thing and
all he wanted to do was to take care of her.

 

The billionaire sat her down on the edge of the round marble bath
and turned the taps off.
 
The bath
was warm and deeply filled.
 
Lavender bubbles were everywhere, ready to overflow, he’d poured so much
in.

 

“Here I will help you in.”

 

“No thanks.”

 

Stephane
was
pushing his luck and he knew it.
 
He
watched her finish loosening the robe and then
clutch
it close to her body.
 
All he could
think about at that moment was tearing it open to see the beauty of her naked
form.

 

“Will you please leave so I can get undressed,” Mara demanded
snapping him out of his trance.

 

“All right but I will just be out here if you need me.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

The billionaire left the room leaving the door slightly ajar so he
could peer inside to make sure she was all right and if he was honest to catch
a glimpse of her body.
 
He saw her
raise her eyes to the ceiling with frustration then look directly at him
through the gap.

 

“Close the door.”

 

He gave a disappointed sigh and shut the door.
 
The billionaire paced up and down
outside the room worried she would faint and sink in to the water unconscious.
 
He spent the whole time listening for
sounds of distress.
 
When he
couldn’t take it anymore he decided to throw caution to the wind and open the
door again.

 

Mara’s body was totally immersed in the protective cover of the
bubbles when he re-entered the room amidst a cry of indignation.
 
Only her pretty face and that sexy
blonde bob were above the water.

 

“Sorry but I can’t leave you in here on your own.
 
You might faint again and I can’t risk
that when you are in water.”
 
He
could feel the schoolboy grin lighting his face once more and the fact there
was little she could do to force him to leave.

 

He seated himself on the edge of the bathtub at her head trying to
catch a glimpse of her wet body amused when she tried to sink lower under the
bubbles.

 

“What about you,
Stephane
?
 
Shouldn’t you be getting out of those
wet clothes?”

 

He watched her eyes skim the surface of his now transparent shirt at
the tight sinuous muscle beneath inviting her touch.
 
It wasn’t the first time she’d looked at
him that way.
 
Unabashed he undid
the buttons of his white shirt and removed it.
 
The French billionaire stretched up his
arms flexing his bare damp muscles and ran his hands through his wet hair.
 
His smile widened when he noticed with
great satisfaction she was transfixed by the sight.
 
Score.

 
 

Mara gulped at the vision of 6ft and so on wall of lean muscle
standing tall and proud before her.
 
All she think
of
was carefully smoothing a hand
over every part, tracing its contoured angles, feeling its robust power.
 
She wanted to curl up next to that chest
seeking its warmth and safety.
 
Her
teeth clamped together as she tried to hide her anger and confusion at her
thoughts.
 

 

“Nice try, Mara.
 
But I’m
not leaving.”

 

His voice cooled.

 

“What were you doing out there?”

 

“I just went for a walk in the grounds,” she tried to sound
innocent.
 
“What’s the matter?
Scared I nearly escaped?”

 

“No, there is a high wall that runs around the boundary of the
estate.
 
There is no way any one let
alone you could climb over it,” he said with confidence.

 

Mara suppressed the urge to giggle and busied herself by asking him
to leave so she could get out.

 

“No you haven’t been in long enough you must allow your body to warm
up,” he insisted softly rolling that sexy French accent over her body like a
seductive caress.

 

But
Tthere
was a knock at the door and
Mara let out a sigh of relief when he momentarily left the room to talk to the
housekeeper who had brought him a towel and a change of clothes.
 
When he returned Mara was attempting to
lift her body from the bath.
 
With a
cry she sank back down again defeated and angry she couldn’t manage it with the
pain and lack of movement in her injured ankle.

 

“I told you to wait.”

 

Stephane
took hold
of her arm but she backed away shaking his grip loose.

 

“No please I can do it myself,” she pleaded even though she knew she
needed his help.

 

He groaned.

 

“Why are Englishwoman so concerned about hiding their bodies?” he
moaned leaning over her to place his hands under her arms and lift her up from
the bath, ignoring the torrent of righteous condemnation tripping from her
mouth.

 

Horrified, she scrabbled to cover her body disturbed by the admiring
glance he was giving her naked form.
 
Thankfully, the suds had covered her from head to foot and provided her
with some protection.
 
Stephane
picked up the white fluffy towel from the towel
rack and wrapped her in before sweeping her up in to his arms to deposit her on
the side of the bath.

 

“Dry yourself and get in to that sexy nightdress I saw you wearing
this morning,” he instructed putting the flimsy garment next to her on a chair
ignoring her frown.

 

Once more he left the room.
 
Before the man could return unexpectedly again Mara quickly dressed in
the nightie and the silk dressing gown that matched it. She stood holding her
sore ankle off the floor of the marble tiled floor as she eased her way along
the wall of the bathroom and out into the bedroom.
 
The housekeeper was telling
Stephane
that the Doctor had arrived and was waiting
downstairs.

 

“What are you doing?
 
You
should have waited for me,” he said annoyed rushing to help her accomplish
getting on top of the bed.

 

She sank her head into the pillows he had propped up.

 

“I’m going to ask the doctor to come up.
 
Don’t try anything.
 
Remember what I said to you in the car,”
the billionaire warned.

 

How could she
forget.

 
 
 
 

The doctor was a man in his early sixties who didn’t know a word of
English.
 
This made Mara feel
uneasy
as it had done the first time she’d seen him.
 
She didn’t like the thought of having to
rely on
Stephane’s
translation.
 
He could tell her anything.

 

The
physician’s
 
inspection
revealed no
breakage’s, just a bad sprain that would require bed rest.
 
That was as much French as she could
understand but the two men appeared to be discussing something else.
 
Her eyes darted between them unable to
translate with accuracy.

 


Stephane
, please tell me what you are
saying.
 
I think I have a right to
know,” she insisted.

 

His hand rose to silence he and he continued speaking.
 
Mara banged her fists on the bed and
decided enough was enough.
 
If they
wanted to speak as though she wasn’t there she would leave them to it and seek
rest in Maxine’s room.
 
She swung
her legs away from the man and tried to move off the bed.
 
Both men stopped talking issuing French
rebukes and lifted her legs back on to the bed forcing her to lie back.

 

The next thing she knew the doctor was feeling for swelling around
her throat and under her chin.
 
Then
he was pumping up a green bandage around her arm to take her blood
pressure.
 
He removed his
stethoscope and shook his head at the billionaire.

 

“What, what?” Mara shouted at him unable to bear the silence any
longer.

 

“Its all right.
 
You’re
blood pressure is a little high but there is nothing wrong.
 
He wants you to have plenty rest and you
won’t have much choice with that ankle will you?
 
At least it will slow you down and make
you take things easy.
 
He believes
you are nervously exhausted.”

 

Mara scowled and lay down in the bed as
Stephane
led the man out of the room.
 
The
billionaire came back and sat on the bed lifting her foot and ankle carefully
onto his lap to wrap a bandage around her ankle.
 
His cool hands administered the work
with tenderness to avoid pain.

 

“Can I go to sleep now,” she asked eager for him to leave not liking
the way she relaxed with his gentle touch.

 

“No, food first and you are going to eat every last bit,” he was
talking to her like a child again.

 

“I am not a child, don’t speak to me like one.”

 

“Really,” he said sarcastically opening the door for the butler who
was carrying a tray of food.

 

Mara buried her face in the pillows and shut her eyes vainly hoping
that when she opened them again he would have left.

 

“I don’t want any.”

 

“It doesn’t make any difference to me Mara whether you eat or not
but you will just get weaker and Ryan probably wouldn’t forgive me for that.”

 

He took hold of her arms and roughly pulled her up and asked the
butler to place the tray over her lap.
 
Mara stuck the fork into the plate of food as if she was stabbing it and
began pushing the small pieces of chicken around the plate before slamming her
fork down.

 

“I won’t be treated like this.
 
I don’t want any food.
 
Eating just makes me feel sick at the moment,” she insisted.

 

To her fury, Mara gave the butler an amused look
who
duly returned it and left the room taking his cue.

 

‘Temper, temper, Mara.
 
Now don’t throw a
tantrum, there’s a good girl,”
Stephane
teased.

 

He picked up the fork and placed it in to a piece of chicken.

 

“You aren’t eating enough.
 
You are going to eat all of this if I have to
force
feed
you, sick or not,’ he commanded and Mara knew by now that he meant
it.
 
Still, she would resist.

 

The billionaire held the fork near to her mouth.
 
Mara shook her head defiantly.

 

“If you don’t eat I will have no choice but to lock you in the tower
room until Ryan gets here.
 
Its
very cold and damp up there and it is very dark even in
the daytime.
 
We don’t use it as a
room.
 
Are you sure you don’t want
any food?” he enquired in a dark voice narrowing his eyes at her with
impatience.

BOOK: The Art of Retaliation
13.34Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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