An Enticing Debt to Pay Read online

  ‘Okay. You’ve shown me the worst, now show me what you’ve done. Or did it take all your time to clean up the kitchen and bedroom?’ Given the state of the other rooms he wouldn’t be surprised.

  Ravenna’s jaw sagged, her mouth gaping as if she’d never seen him before.

  Finally he’d stemmed her flow of snarky comments. He’d fantasised about doing just that. But in his imaginings he’d silenced her with his lips fused to hers, his tongue in her mouth, finishing what he’d started in Paris.

  The image erupted out of nowhere, of her melting into him as incendiary sparks ignited their bodies. It was so vivid his hands twitched, ready to reach for her. Heat drenched him despite the cellar’s chill and blood roared in his ears.

  His response was so sudden, so profound, it made a mockery of all the reasons he’d told himself he’d never touch her again. Upstairs, holding her steady lest she fall, Jonas had been abundantly aware of Ravenna Ruggiero as a woman. Not a thief or a parasite. Not kin to the woman who’d destroyed his mother. But as desirable.

  Even in faded jeans and an oversized cardigan, Ravenna fascinated him in a way he didn’t understand. He liked his women sophisticated and ultra feminine. Ravenna was feminine all right, but with a sharp tongue and prickly attitude that should have been a turn-off.

  Instead—

  ‘All right.’ She spun away, turning the movement into a flounce of disapproval. ‘This way.’

  He got under her skin.

  At least he wasn’t the only one.

  * * *

  By the time they finished the tour Ravenna didn’t know what to think. Reading Jonas Deveson when he was in a temper was easy. But now she hadn’t a clue what he thought.

  ‘You did that?’ There’d been surprise in his voice when she showed him how she’d boarded up the windows as best she could, and the new panes the glazier had begun installing.

  Did he really think she’d ignore the damage as if it didn’t matter? Deveson Hall was a beautiful old place. It deserved better than what Piers had dealt it.

  She’d shown Jonas the attic bedrooms she’d cleared and scrubbed, with some notion of starting at the top and working down. But the rest of the vast attics had defeated her, filled as they were with what looked like several hundred years’ accumulation of family memorabilia.

  Instead of berating her for giving up on the top floor he’d merely nodded and gestured for her to move on.

  She’d shown him the gallery where she’d spent the morning on a ladder, carefully cleaning ornate picture frames, aware all the time of rows of haughty Devesons looking down their superb noses at her as if outraged anyone so lowly should dare enter their presence.

  Now they surveyed the bedrooms. Only one other than hers was finished, where they stood now.

  ‘You’ve done a good job.’

  Again he’d robbed her of speech. Praise? From Jonas Deveson?

  Ravenna swung round to find him watching her. She should be used to it—that piercing regard so sharp it could scrape off skin. Or carve a needy hollow deep inside.

  She blinked and tried to tear her eyes away.

  ‘It’s come up well,’ she agreed. ‘But I’m surprised you admit it.’ What was he up to?

  He shrugged. ‘It’s the truth. Besides, if we’re going to be here together, I’d rather not have you glaring daggers at me all the time.’

  ‘This isn’t about the way I—’

  ‘See what I mean?’ He was frustratingly superior, as if the thickened atmosphere between them were down to her!

  ‘There’s no need for you to stay.’ The words shot out. ‘You’ve seen what you came to see. You know I’m not trashing the place.’

  ‘No,’ he mused, frowning, ‘you’re not. You’re actually making a difference.’

  Ravenna’s hands clamped her hips. ‘No need to sound surprised!’

  Again that shrug. It emphasised the broad planes of his shoulders and chest and the way he blocked the doorway, making the spacious room seem too small.

  ‘In the circumstances—’ he stepped towards her ‘—I can be excused for doubting that. You gave the impression of a woman who’s never worked in her life.’

  Ravenna shuffled back, away from that keen gaze. She walked a knife edge with the truth. If she revealed too much about herself she might inadvertently let the truth slip—that it was Mamma who’d stolen his money.

  ‘I have hidden depths.’ She stopped abruptly as her legs came up against the edge of the bed. Something dark and untamed skittered through her belly at the feeling he’d trapped her there.

  He paced closer, a dangerous light in his eyes. Ravenna gulped down rising tension and told herself he wasn’t interested in her. That...caress in Paris had been simply him illustrating how vulnerable she was.

  He stood so close she saw the beginning of dark stubble on his jaw. She remembered the soft scrape of it against her skin and sucked in a breath warm with the scent of his skin.

  Flurries of sensation raced across her flesh as she met grey eyes that now looked anything but cold.

  ‘I’ll enjoy sleeping here.’

  He moved and she stiffened, but instead of touching her he reached out and prodded the mattress. ‘A nice, big bed,’ he murmured approvingly. As easily as that Ravenna could think of nothing but how it would feel to have that long, strong body flush against hers, naked on the king-sized bed.

  ‘You can’t sleep here!’ It was too close to hers, connected by a bathroom.

  One ebony eyebrow arched and to her amazement she saw amusement in his face. It turned his strong aristocratic features into something potently seductive. ‘It’s either that or in your bed, Ravenna.’

  ‘I didn’t mean...’

  He straightened and she sucked in a breath as the distance widened between them. ‘Forget it, Ravenna. I’m staying. The place can’t be left like this.’

  Not in her untrustworthy hands. That was the implication. In the circumstances she could hardly blame him, yet his prejudice rankled.

  ‘But you’ve got a business to run.’

  Steely eyes pinioned her. ‘You really are desperate for me to leave, aren’t you?’

  Ravenna tilted her chin. She was sick of lying. ‘You can’t be surprised. You’re hardly pleasant company.’

  Instead of glowering as expected, Jonas flummoxed her by laughing. It was a deep, rich sound that eddied and swirled around her like a liquid embrace. Ravenna shivered and rubbed her arms, scared of how much she liked it.

  ‘That’s rich coming from the woman who thieved from me.’

  Ravenna flinched. She couldn’t help it. And she regretted it instantly, when Jonas’ eyes narrowed on her face. What did he see there? How much did he guess?

  ‘I propose a truce,’ he murmured. ‘We’ll behave like civilised people while we’re under the same roof. Agreed?’

  What other option was there? Her nerves were shredded after an hour with him. She’d be a gibbering wreck if he chose to prolong the animosity.

  Ravenna nodded but she pretended not to notice his outstretched hand. Touching Jonas Deveson again was right up there on her list of never-to-do experiences, like swimming with sharks and sleeping on a bed of nails.

  * * *

  Two hours later Ravenna emerged into the high street of the nearby market town, arms full of provisions. Jonas had insisted he accompany her since her meagre supplies wouldn’t cater for them both.

  He’s making sure you don’t do a runner, a sour voice inside her head insisted. After all, once off the estate there was nothing to stop her disappearing except fear of what he’d do when he caught her again.

  A little shiver raced through her. For Jonas would find her if she ran. She couldn’t imagine him failing at anything he wanted. And he wanted her under his thumb.


  He walked beside her, carrying the bulk of the shopping. But it wasn’t his role as gaoler that unsettled her so much as his physical presence. Big, bold and aggressively male, his testosterone-charged presence challenged her in ways she didn’t like to examine.

  He’d been as good as his word—a perfect gentleman during their outing yet that only unbalanced her more. She could cope with his temper, even his disapproval. But there was something ridiculously intimate about the simple act of shopping together, having him insist on carrying the heavy items and even opening doors for her.

  Realising how much she liked it made her edgy.

  Her eyes lit on the dark red Aston Martin across the street, magnet for a bunch of admiring boys.

  ‘You’ve got a very showy car.’ Conveniently she ignored the fact that she adored its sleek lines and the delicious sense of being cocooned in comfort as they’d driven here.

  ‘You think I should drive something that blends in?’ Infuriatingly she heard laughter in his voice. ‘A discreet dark Bentley or a battered Land Rover?’ He strode towards the car. ‘I worked hard for everything I’ve got, and I’m not ashamed of enjoying it.’

  Ravenna huffed as she hurried after him, stopping as he opened the boot and unloaded his purchases. ‘You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. I hardly think—’

  He turned and his expression clogged the words in her throat. She almost heard ice crackle at the look he shot her.

  ‘Frankly, I don’t care what you think.’ He reached for her packages and stowed them with the rest of the food, then closed the boot. ‘But for the record, I may have been born with a silver spoon in my mouth but the rest of the family silver was hocked. Piers only married my mother for the much-needed money she brought the failing family coffers. With his spectacularly unsuccessful investments and his skill at spending that disappeared soon enough.’

  He leaned towards her. ‘Do you know why I got a reputation as a wunderkind investor?’ His breath was hot on her face but she couldn’t step away. She was mesmerised by what she saw in those remarkable eyes—passion and, if she wasn’t mistaken, pain.

  ‘It was because by the time I was finishing school there was no money left. If I wanted to go to university I had to fund myself.’ He shook his head. ‘Hell, if I wanted to keep a roof over my mother’s head I had to fund that too, since your precious Piers was incapable of doing it.’

  ‘He wasn’t my Piers.’ The words came out automatically, Ravenna’s mind whirling. All these years she’d imagined the Devesons living in easy luxury.

  ‘No.’ Jonas invaded her space, head thrust forward. ‘He was your mother’s. Did she know it was my hard-earned money she lived off all these years? Or didn’t she give a damn?’

  ‘Yours?’

  His laugh had a razor edge. ‘Devesons may have started as a family company but the most Piers did was act as front man. He loved that—preening publicly at our success. At my success. Not that he’d admit that. Easier for him to talk of the company’s spectacular profits than admit it was his teenage son taking the risks and doing the work.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’

  With the knowledge something shifted subtly, like a kaleidoscope on the turn, pieces sliding and settling in an almost familiar yet totally different pattern. It revealed Jonas in a new light.

  He’d been the breadwinner all those years, keeping Deveson Hall running and funding his parents’ lifestyle? Jonas had striven to accumulate the fortune that supported Piers and her mamma?

  What had it been like carrying that weight of responsibility and expectation so young?

  Ravenna’s teenage problems paled by comparison.

  Jonas lifted his shoulders, the movement shrugging away everything but the pair of them, standing close. ‘No, you didn’t, did you?’ he mused. ‘How could you know?’

  His breath ruffled her hair and suddenly his grey eyes looked soft as mist. Ravenna felt herself heat from the inside as warm treacle spilled and swirled deep in her belly. That skittering sensation was back, drawing her flesh tight.

  A whirring sound intruded and Ravenna turned, startled to find a massive lens trained on them.

  ‘Who’s the girl, Jonas?’

  For a startled moment Ravenna thought it must be a friend asking. But the man with the camera was backing away, camera still trained on them, as if aware of Jonas’ big body tensing.

  Jonas’ hand encircled her arm, drawing her abruptly away and into the car.

  ‘Damned paparazzi,’ he muttered under his breath.

  ‘Paparazzi?’ Ravenna stared at the man, now two car lengths away. ‘Why would they want a photo of us?’

  Jonas shrugged. ‘Slow news day.’ Reading her frown, he added, ‘Don’t worry. The photo probably won’t get used. And if it is—’ again that wide shrug ‘—it’s hardly damaging.’

  He closed her door and got into the driver seat, apparently unfazed by the press intrusion. Which left Ravenna pondering what it was like to be so influential that even a shopping expedition was newsworthy.

  They really were from completely different worlds.

  It was imperative Ravenna remember that. Especially as there was unfinished business between her and Jonas Deveson, and she sensed it wasn’t all to do with stolen money.

  * * *

  It was easier sharing a house with Jonas than Ravenna had believed possible. They avoided each other.

  Yet she was hyper-sensitive to his presence. The rich murmur of his voice through a half-closed door as he spoke on the phone. The spicy scent of damp male skin that clung to the bathroom, evoking heady images of what that solid, athletic body might look like naked.

  She found herself cataloguing facts about him. He made his own bed—because he was neat or because he didn’t like the intimacy of her touching his bed? His weakness for shortbread and fruitcake. His habit of leaving half-empty coffee mugs about when work distracted him.

  Jonas worked ridiculously long hours, running his business from a distance in between a continuous schedule of meetings with conservation officials, builders and others.

  Occasionally a young man with a thin, intelligent face and a ready smile arrived, with laptop and briefcase, and the pair closeted themselves for hours. Ravenna took pity on the assistant, Stephen, and supplied refreshments. Jonas never noticed but Stephen would grin and thank her. Ravenna told herself she was glad Jonas never looked up.

  She didn’t want his notice. She wanted—

  A betraying twist of sensation between her legs reminded her of what she’d wanted from Jonas in her dreams last night. What she’d demanded, and what he’d so willingly supplied.

  Heat suffused her and Ravenna made herself concentrate on the next stack of leather-bound books to be lifted from the shelves.

  So she had a libido. She should be glad. It meant her poor battered body was getting back to normal after the long stint of treatment.

  She just wished her libido hadn’t fixed on the man who’d made it his mission to wreck her life!

  Ravenna laid the books on the desk and wiped her brow. It really was warm in here. She’d filled the study with every heater she could find, laying open damp-damaged books to air. But the number of books needing attention was enormous.

  If only Jonas would get in staff to help her. She hadn’t suggested it again, preferring to avoid him. But that hadn’t worked. He was in her head all the time.

  Grimacing, she yanked off her pullover. She’d worn extra layers since Jonas arrived as if they would somehow protect her. Ridiculous since he kept to himself. She could work in her underwear and he’d be none the wiser.

  Grinning at the thought, Ravenna climbed the library ladder to finish clearing the top shelf.

  ‘Careful up there!’ Jonas’ deep voice sounded from below, furring her arms and na
pe with what felt far too much like anticipation. ‘I don’t want you injuring yourself.’

  ‘Afraid I’ll sue for damages?’ Gripping the rail, Ravenna turned. Her insides tightened at the picture he made, legs apart and arms folded, hair rumpled.

  She’d thought him formidable in bespoke Italian tailoring. In a casual white shirt and faded jeans that clung to heavy thighs, he looked like a pirate. He hadn’t shaved and the shadow on his sculpted jaw gave him a dangerous air. Or maybe it was the glitter in his silver gaze.

  Sensation scudded through her. Something she preferred not to name. It made her feel hot and achy, needy.

  She narrowed her eyes. ‘Or afraid I’ll squash you if I fall?’ She was one of the tallest women she knew.

  His mouth quirked in a sexy curl that did devastating things to her. His voice was a deep purr. ‘I’m sure I’m up to your weight, Ravenna.’

  He moved into the room, his gaze raking from her bare feet, cotton trousers and T-shirt to her flaming face.

  She clamped her mouth shut but it didn’t stop the shimmer of awareness charging the atmosphere.

  ‘What have you got here?’ He stopped by the table and picked up a small volume. Instantly the feeling of pressure in her lungs eased and she drew a slow breath.

  ‘Those were in the small writing desk by the window. And the bigger ones are from up here.’

  Jonas stood stiffly as if braced, head bent to the pages of the small book. Colour leached from his face, leaving it starkly pale, skin stretched taut over strong bones. He was so still he didn’t seem to breathe. Then the pages began to flutter in his suddenly unsteady hand.

  Alarm knifed her. ‘Jonas?’

  He didn’t even look up.

  By the time she climbed down he was slumped in a chair and his face was a sickly, greenish hue that made her stomach clutch. He looked as if he was going to keel over.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JONAS WAS STARING.

  Ogling was probably a better word, since he couldn’t tear his gaze from Ravenna’s slender body. With her arms raised, reaching for an upper shelf, her white T-shirt moulded to her breasts. Her enticing, braless breasts.