Dangerous love

Passion in me

"Very well," he said. "I assume that Joel Robertson wants you and that you don't want him."

"That is correct." Cool, precise words that couldn't convey the faintest shadow of the horror she felt at the prospect of

belonging to Joel Robertson. "I want protection from him."

"And that's all you want?"

"It's very important to me."

He stretched his long legs out before him. "I see. You're willing to bed one man to avoid another."

"Actually ..." Irene faltered beneath the icy cynicism of his gaze. Then, gathering her courage, she began again. "I'd hoped

we might form a less ... intimate partnership."

His brows soared. “You will pretend to be my mistress in return for protection against Joel Robertson, and I will pretend to have you for my mistress, and in return, I will receive ......what?"

"Revenge," she said.

Travis hadn't expected to be so angry. Or to feel so cheated.

He'd been desired by many women; it shouldn't matter a tinker's damn whether this one wanted him or not. But, by God,

she'd hit him in a sensitive spot, one he hadn't known he'd had.

"I can get revenge without your help," he said. Something cold and hard dropped into Irene's stomach. Then she straightened her shoulders and turned away. "I'm sorry to

have bothered you, Mr Grant."

"I didn't say I wouldn't bargain with you," he said, his voice harsh. “But I want full value for what I give."

"And what of Sofia?"

“What of her?" he asked. “My business is with you. The bargain, Mrs Robertson. Will you meet my price?"

She let her lashes drift down over her eyes. Always, it came to this. Her father had sold her to Noel Robertson; Joel, too,

considered her a bauble to be owned. None of them gave a thought that there might be a mind and a heart within the body.

again. And now ...

For a moment, she nearly turned and walked away from her Travis Grant. Then she thought about her brother-in-law

and the fate that awaited her. Shame chilled her heart, but she'd long since learned to keep it from showing on her face, Joel

had won. He'd turned her into a w***e, well and truly, But not his w***e. She'd at least have that. So little had been left to her that this was enough,

She raised her gaze to Travis's. "I accept your terms."

Travis wished she'd refused. He'd wanted her to rise from the sofa in outrage and cast his offer back into his face. But she'd accepted it without a flicker in her expression. Perhaps she'd driven much more costly bargains before, So why do it? The answer was simple: he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted a woman, and he had the feeling that if he let her walk out of this house tonight, he'd never see her

again. Like that tormented, compelling woman in the cemetery,

she'd flit out of his life and leave him forever wondering.

That memory caught him, turning his annoyance savage as he compared the two. Pure grief as opposed to self-interest, true

tears as opposed to a hard-driven bargain.

"You give yourself easily, Mrs Robertson," he said,

"And you take me equally easily. Mr Grant," she replied.

"Which is the greater sin?"

"By God, you're plainspoken!"

"Would you rather have lies?"

He raked his hands through his hair. "Most women would try in some small way to flatter a prospective lover. You, however, seem to be willing to go with anyone with the means to keep you out of Joel Robertson's hands."

"True."

"And when I tire of you?"

She lifted her chin. "Then all I ask is that you send me to another place, any other place, and never tell Joel where I've gone."

"And on to the next man?"

"That is hardly your concern," she snapped, stung by his insult where Sofia's hadn't reached her at all.

Astonishingly, the thought of her with another man brought something dark and got winging into his chest.

"Somehow, madam, I begin to doubt whether you'll be ample payment for the trouble you're bound to cause me; you seem a bit cold for my taste,"

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, so you want passion? Then you should have pride enough to win it."

Travis stared at her incredulously. No one had ever spoken to him like that, nor had he ever seen such disdain in a woman's

eyes. Outrage swept through him in a wildfire tide, turning the simmer of his desire into a bonfire.

Irene saw his face harden and knew she'd goaded him too far.

Panic tightened her throat, making flight impossible. Even had there been anywhere to go? He rose, then grasped her by

the arms and lifted her to her feet.

"We'll see just how cold you are," he growled, pulling her against his chest.

Her head fell back as memories of Noel's brutal lovemaking washed through her. She couldn't speak, couldn't raise her arms

to fend Travis off, couldn't shut away from the terrible pictures in her mind. Her breath left her in an agonized sigh.

That small sound brought them to his senses. He looked down at the woman in his arms and saw blind fear in her eyes.

The anger drained out of him. He lifted his hand to brush the tumbled hair from her face and swore as she flinched from it.

His anger returned. It wasn't directed at her, however, but at Joel Robinson. Rumour held that the man had cause to blame her for his brother's death, but that didn't give him the right to mistreat her.

“Do you think I'd strike you?" he murmured. When she didn't respond, he raised his voice. "Irene."

The gentleness of his voice brought her back to herself. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, then another. When her eyes focused again, she found him staring at her, his pupils dilated with an emotion she didn't understand.

“Irene," he said again.

she turned her head. His words didn't mean anything, Noel rarely stuck her, but he'd had many other ways of hurting her,

physical and otherwise

She suffered as she felt Travis's hands spread out across her back

"will hold you to your bargain," he said. "But not until you want it. I promise you that."

That brought her gaze to his

"That's a promise you'll regret,

"And why is that?"

She put her palms flat against his chest. He let her go, although, from the look in his eyes, he didn't want to Because of that, she gave him honesty. Raw honesty is the kind that hurts.

"A long time ago, I might have had passion in me," she said.

"But I lost it somewhere along the way. If that's what you need from me, then you'll be disappointed."

He moved closer. Irene's breath started to come faster, but she squeezed her eyes closed to keep the panic away. She

flinched when he touched her face, then steadied as she Registered the gentleness of his hands.

Gentleness. She'd never felt it in a man's touch.

Travis ran his hand along the curve of her cheek. She felt like cool satin, and colour followed his fingers across her skin.

Her lashes lay in long spikes upon her cheekbone, and he traced the arched line of her brows with his thumb. He watched every

nuance, every flicker of expression from the flare of her nostrils to the subtle softening of her mouth. Response. Whether she

wanted to or not, she felt something when he touched her.

There was a hesitancy, however, or perhaps an awareness of her sensuality that belonged more to an untried girl

than a much-experienced woman. A puzzle for the mind and a feast for the senses, he thought.

He leaned forward to bury his face in her hair. "You smell like roses on a misty spring morning," he whispered.