The Blackmail Marriage Read online

  A discreet signpost indicted the road to S’Antander’s border. Unlike Monaco, S’Antander had never touted itself as a tourist attraction. Olive groves flanked the road, and in the distance she spied the turquoise brilliance of the sea. Winding down her window as she approached the border post, Carrie breathed in the warm fragrant air of the South, with its intoxicating blend of perfume and sunshine.

  A guard stepped forward as she stopped her car, dressed not in the pageantry of the country’s historic military uniform but instead in a much more serviceable police uniform. Handing him her passport, Carrie waited as he inspected it, and her, before handing it back to her.

  It was only as she put the car in gear that she realised that she had been holding her breath.

  Why? After all, Luc wasn’t even in the country—never mind likely to have placed her name on a ‘not to be admitted’ list! That was if he could even remember it!

  As she drove further into the country Carrie was again entranced by its beautiful scenery. Centuries ago, before the country had been gifted to Luc’s forebears, it had been owned by a reclusive order of monks. The monastery high up in the Alps was now an exclusive skiing centre owned by Luc, but the monks’ careful husbandry of the land had been passed on to the people of the area, and as Carrie drove towards the capital she couldn’t help but admire the neat, orderly rows of vines and the small olive groves.

  It had been her own father who had encouraged Luc to make his people as self-supporting as possible. Every acre of agricultural land was used as productively as it could be, and Carrie could see the sun glinting on the plastic coverings that housed the country’s much sought-after organic fruit and vegetable crops

  The road had started to climb now. Below her was the sea and the small port, whilst up ahead of her…

  Her heart did a slow somersault as she spied the rich terracotta walls of the city towering over the landscape. Built on a rocky outcrop and surrounded by a fertile plain, the castle commanded an excellent defensive position. Carrie remembered how shocked her twelve-year-old self had been when Luc had shown her the castle’s dungeons.

  The steep incline of the road momentarily cut off the warmth of the sunlight, making her shiver in the coldness of the castle’s imposing shadow. Even if she had not known the history of this place it would still have been easy to imagine how daunting it would have appeared to any invading force.

  Grimly Carrie drove under the narrow, tunnel-like entrance into the city, blinking as she emerged into the brilliant sunlight.

  Maria had told her that her grandmother would be in residence at her grace and favour apartment in the castle, rather than staying in her country villa, and so Carrie parked her car in the small town square and got out, squaring her shoulders before making her way through the market stalls towards the castle.

  High up above the city, in the eyrie he had made his private office, Luc D’Urbino, His Serene Highness, Prince of S’Antander, frowned. He had just returned from Brussels, where he had been involved in protracted and complex negotiations with regard to his country’s tax-free status, to discover that the political unrest which had been simmering between the traditionalist old guard of his grandfather’s generation and their younger, far more politically radical opponents had reached boiling point.

  Still frowning, he listened as his elderly cousin and Prime Minister told him tersely, ‘The people want to see you married, Luc. The fact that you don’t as yet have a son, an heir, makes them feel insecure! And besides, your wedding would help to take people’s minds off all this fuss that’s going on with these foolish young hotheads who are claiming that we are guilty of allowing criminals and murderers to make use of our country to hide their blood money, as they insist on calling it.’

  Luc suppressed a sigh as he listened. From a personal point of view he completely sympathised with the opinions expressed by the so-called ‘foolish young hotheads’, but his position meant that he could not publicly take sides—and besides, he naturally felt honour-bound to protect not just his late grandfather’s reputation but also the now sadly out of date and, because of that, vulnerable remaining members of the government who had been his grandfather’s peers.

  ‘I have already made it clear that as ruler of this state there is no way I intend to allow anyone guilty of profiting from the death of other human beings, or indeed any other illegal activities, to take advantage of our tax laws here,’ Luc began quietly, and then stopped as he looked down from his window into the market square below.

  There was a woman standing there with her back to him, the sun shimmering on the tousled silky fall of her blonde hair. Lifting a hand, she raked her fingers through it, as though impatient with its waywardness. Immediately he stiffened, his stance unconsciously that of a hunter, silent but awesomely effective, as if he instinctively scented a prey. There was something about her bearing, about the fiercely eloquent independence of it, that he instantly recognised.

  ‘I am sorry, Giovanni, but I will have to discuss this with you later.’

  Whilst his cousin watched in confusion, Luc thrust open the door and strode swiftly through it.

  Carrie had no need to ask for directions to the Countess’s quarters. She knew exactly where the suite of rooms she occupied was, just as she knew how to evade having to go through the formality of entering the main doors to the castle and making herself known to the impressively uniformed major-domo stranding guard there, behind the equally impressive-looking pair of traditionally uniformed, helmeted and musket-carrying sentries.

  They were there more for show than anything else, their muskets unloaded, but that did not mean that either the palace or its occupants were not very efficiently and discreetly protected by the ex-military un-uniformed men who formed the bulk of Luc’s security guards.

  As she slipped through the small side door a hundred memories flooded back over her: the smell of the palace—a mixture of precious old furniture, works of art and ancient stone—and even more the smell of Luc, both before he had made love to her and after—a heady, dangerous mixture of male testosterone and those other indefinable scents that were his alone…

  Or was she just allowing her imagination and her dangerous memories to play even more dangerous tricks on her?

  Angrily Carrie closed her eyes, trying to blot out her unexpectedly sharply focused memories. Better that she remembered the icy hauteur of the Countess’s voice, the contempt and the cruelty with which she had been treated—at Luc’s behest after all—as well as the pain she herself had felt when…

  ‘So it is you! I thought so!’

  ‘Luc!’

  Shocked, Carrie stepped back against the protection of the wall, her eyes widening betrayingly.

  What was he doing here? Maria had insisted that he would be in Brussels.

  And she had insisted that she was not afraid of seeing him, Carrie reminded herself! And she wasn’t! No way.

  ‘Well—an unexpected visitor indeed!’

  Unlike her, Luc was dressed formally in a crisp white shirt and an expensive beige linen suit. His dark hair was immaculately groomed, his skin the same warm honey colour she had remembered during those long, aching nights when she had been so obsessed with the misery of losing him that all she had been able to remember was him.

  His skin might look and feel warm, but his heart was icy cold—at least where she was concerned! Did the small whorls of body hair covering his chest still curl into small licks of curls, delicious to kiss in the damp heat of his bed? Did he still emerge from the shower looking like a Greek god, with the kind of physical proportions that…?

  Aghast, and furious with herself, Carrie brought her thoughts to order. After all, she wasn’t some wide-eyed innocent teenager now, awash with excitable hormones!

  Lifting her chin, she told him briskly, ‘Actually, I’ve come to see the Countess.’

  Immediately Luc frowned.

  ‘My godmother? She isn’t here. She’s away visiting her niece in Florence. What did
you want to see her about? As I recall there was little love lost between the two of you,’ Luc pointed out sardonically.

  That he had known that and still allowed his godmother to humiliate her as she had done was all the reminder Carrie needed to make her bristle with antagonism and tell him challengingly, ‘I’ve got a message for her. From Maria!’

  She was supposed to be savouring this, Carrie reminded herself, and her stomach suddenly dropped like a high-speed lift when she saw the way Luc was looking at her, his eyes narrowed intently, so dark that they looked almost black instead of the dark grey she knew them to be.

  She could feel the silence stretching dangerously between them, taut with unspoken hostility and aggression.

  ‘What message? Give it to me!’

  He was so arrogant! At eighteen she might have been so idiotically adoring that she had accepted it, but not now! She could feel the swift burn of her own immediate antagonism. Carrie took a deep breath, too infuriated to think of delaying the retribution she was about to deliver.

  ‘With the greatest of pleasure,’ she told him ‘She wanted you to know that she has married Harry, my brother.’ She smiled unkindly at him. ‘She loves him, and he loves her, and—’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘LUC let go of me!’ Carrie demanded breathlessly, her face going hot with fury. But the relentless grip of his fingers on her upper arm did not relax one iota, and nor did the speed at which he was almost dragging her down the richly polished corridor, its walls ornamented with suits of armour and dangerous-looking heavy swords.

  Carrie had a brief glimpse of the d’Urbino family crest above the imposing double doors before Luc pushed them open and half-dragged, half-thrust her into the elegantly furnished salon that lay beyond them.

  She was, Carrie recognised angrily, in the main entertaining salon that formed part of the suite of private rooms occupied by Luc. Very little had changed since the last time she had been in this room; the silks and damasks might perhaps have faded a little more, and her own eight-year absence might have given her a more mature appreciation of the exquisite beauty of the room’s furnishings, but that was all. The heavy silver-framed photograph of Luc’s parents still dominated the highly polished sofa table, with Luc himself standing between them, a child of two.

  Carrie remembered how she had so foolishly and fondly believed that the fact that both of them had lost their mothers at a young age somehow forged a special bond between them.

  But Luc hadn’t merely lost his mother—he had lost both his parents in the appalling atrocity of a terrorist bombing incident in South America whilst they had been there on a visit.

  ‘Maria has married your brother!’

  There was no mistaking the cold fury in Luc’s voice.

  ‘I am sorry if you are disappointed.’ Carrie couldn’t resist taunting him.

  ‘Disappointed?’ Fury flared in the steel-grey eyes and his mouth thinned in recognition of her mockery of him.

  ‘Still, I am sure you will quite easily find someone else to take her place.’ The cynicism she felt darkened her own eyes and twisted her mouth.

  Maria herself had made no bones about the fact that Luc’s desire to marry her had been purely practically motivated.

  ‘Luc does not love me,’ she had told Carrie. ‘But he has always been kind to me, and until I met Harry again and fell in love with him I had not really minded that ours would be a political union. Now, though, there is no way I could bear the thought of being married to anyone other than my dearest, darling Harry! And I am afraid that if I went back to S’Antander and told my grandmother and Luc that I couldn’t marry him they might…’

  ‘Force you to do so?’ Carrie had finished for her, having no qualms about saying the words she had seen Maria, out of loyalty, was reluctant to speak.

  ‘Luc has to marry someone.’ Maria had unexpectedly defended him. ‘The people expect it,’ she had told Carrie simply. ‘And of course he wants to have an heir.’

  ‘The world must be full of women who would be only too eager to marry all this, Luc,’ Carrie continued now, gesturing to the palace and the view beyond its windows. ‘Oh, and you, of course. After all, you are such a catch, aren’t you? A real-life prince, with so much to offer—your arrogance, your snobbishness, your lack of any real emotional depth.’

  ‘That’s enough.’ Luc stopped her coldly. ‘But you are right about one thing, Catherine. It will be easy for me to find someone to take Maria’s place. Very easy. In fact…’

  The smile he was giving her was not a kind one, Carrie recognised, and something in his expression suddenly made her shudder, made her regret her emotional outburst of pent-up bitterness.

  ‘In fact,’ he repeated softly, ‘I have already done so!’

  Already done so? Now Carrie was shocked. He had already had a second choice waiting in the background? How typical of him, she decided contemptuously. But before she could voice her contempt he was continuing smoothly.

  ‘If Maria is not to marry me, then, Catherine, you must!’

  Carrie stared at him, speechless with shock and disbelief.

  ‘What are you saying?’ she demanded when she could speak, her voice cracking. ‘If this is your idea of a joke.’

  ‘It is no joke, I can assure you.’ Unlike hers, Luc’s voice was crisp and coldly assured.

  ‘My people are in almost hourly expectation of hearing me announce my marriage,’ he added grimly when she was unable to control her expression. ‘There has been a good deal of gossip and public speculation on the subject, and they will naturally feel cheated now if I disappoint them. They believe that it is time for me to take a wife.’

  ‘They are expecting you to marry Maria,’ Carrie reminded him numbly.

  ‘Who I marry is not of any real interest to them,’ Luc returned with breathtaking arrogance. ‘What concerns them is that I do marry!’

  ‘Maybe so. But you are not marrying me,’ Carrie told him fiercely, thankful to discover that she was beginning to recover from her initial shock.

  ‘Oh, but I am, Catherine. As I have just told you, my people are expecting an imminent announcement that I am to marry. As you know, this is a very traditional country, and its older generation have certain fixed beliefs and expectations. They already feel that their values are being threatened by the younger people of S’Antander who, like all youth, believe that the only way of making progress is to dismantle that which previous generations have set in place.

  ‘I am currently engaged in some extremely delicate and protracted negotiations, involving not only the views of these opposing groups within S’Antander but also the views of our “guest” residents, whose financial input into the country is not merely a valuable asset but also a necessity without which it would be impossible for us to fund such things as the extremely high standard of health care and education our people receive. My marriage will reassure the older generation that customs that are important to them are being respected and at the same time send a clear message to everyone else of my own commitment to my country and its future.’

  Carrie stared at him in contemptuous disgust.

  “No wonder Maria preferred to marry my brother. He might not have your wealth, or your position, but at least Harry is human, with human feelings and reactions. Not cold and calculating, like you.’

  ‘I think you’ve said enough. In fact, I think you’ve said more than enough.’

  Carrie could almost feel the steely implacability of his will-power reaching out to surround her, but stubbornly she refused to give in to it—or to him.

  ‘I’m not an awestruck teenager any more, Luc,’ she warned him. ‘If you want a wife, then find someone else. You can’t make me marry you!’

  ‘No?’ The look in his eyes sliced straight into her heart. ‘I have recently heard some interesting things about your oh, so wonderful brother, Harry. Tell me? Are you still as protective of him, as devoted to him? Still as ready to fly to his defence? Of course you are.’ He answer
ed his own question tauntingly. ‘Otherwise you wouldn’t be here, would you?’

  Without allowing her to answer he continued, ‘He works for a merchant bank, I believe? Would it surprise you to know that he’s been taking some very dangerous risks with the bank’s clients’ money? That he’s been on the verge of making some very bad decisions? No, of course it wouldn’t, would it?’ he mocked softly. ‘Not a devoted, caring sister like you! You were the first person he turned to when he realised the mess he was getting himself into, weren’t you?’

  Carrie felt as though her vocal cords had completely seized up. Unable to respond, or refute his savage indictment, she could only listen to him in growing shock and discomfort whilst an icy fist of fear embraced her insides. No one, but no one—apart from herself—could possibly know about the problems Harry had been having, the danger he had been in. But somehow Luc knew! Did that mean that he also knew…?

  ‘How fortunate for him that he has such a devoted and clever sister there, not only able but also willing to help him out of a mess of his own making. A sister, moreover, who was prepared to risk her own career and professional reputation to do so. Because that is exactly what you did, isn’t it, Catherine.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ At last she had got her voice back, but Luc was quite plainly unimpressed and unconvinced by her immediate denial.

  ‘Liar!’ he told her. ‘You know exactly what I mean. Harry got himself into a mess and you got him out of it by advising him on what shares to buy to undo the damage he had done.’

  Carrie looked away from him. How on earth had he managed to find out about that? She had sworn Harry to total secrecy, too shocked and worried for him when he had shamefacedly told her what had happened to be able to refuse to help, even though…

  ‘He’s my brother,’ she responded woodenly. ‘Naturally I wanted to help him.’