Sure you’re not, Remy thought. He could feel her attraction for him ringing in the air like a high-pitched radio frequency. She wanted him but she didn’t want to be the first one to give in to it.
He saw it in those looks she gave him when she thought he wasn’t looking: hungry, yearning, lustful. She was proud and defiant, determined to withstand the temptation he was dangling before her.
He was used to women caving in to his first smile. Angelique’s resistance to his charm was doing the opposite of what she probably intended. Instead of making him want her less, it made him want her more. She was a challenge. A goal to score. A prize to claim.
A bet to win.
‘Do you want to put money on that?’ he asked.
She gave him a mordant look. ‘Thanks, but no.’
‘You’re definitely not your father’s daughter.’
‘Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,’ she said, still eyeballing him with those stormcloud eyes.
Remy could feel his desire for her thundering through his blood. How he loved a woman with spirit, and they didn’t come much more spirited than Angelique. He would relish every single moment of having her finally succumb to him. The chase would be fun but the catch would be magnificent. He could already taste the victory. He could feel it in his blood and in his bones.
He would have her.
He would have her right where he had always secretly wanted her.
In his bed.
Her beautiful face was held at a regal height, her eyes glittering with an implacable purpose. ‘I think you’ll find I’m very much my father’s daughter.’
‘Because you don’t know when to quit when failure is staring you in the face?’ He gave an amused chuckle. ‘That would certainly be a case of the apple not falling far from the tree.’
Her chin stayed at that haughty level, her mouth set in a tight line. ‘I’ll stay married to you on one condition and one condition only.’
Remy felt a warning tingle course through his blood; even the back of his neck started to prickle. ‘Go on.’
The corner of her mouth lifted as if she knew she had this in the bag. ‘I want Tarrantloch at the end of it.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
REMY DREW IN a breath. Why couldn’t she want a lifelong stipend or a bank vault of diamonds? But no, not Angelique; instead she had insisted on the one thing he didn’t want to relinquish. Would never relinquish.
Tarrantloch was a trophy. He wasn’t prepared to hand it over before he’d enjoyed everything it represented: success. Revenge. Justice.
He leaned forward to give the driver instructions to take him to his regular hotel in Paddington. He wanted time to plan a counter-move. He wasn’t going to let her manipulate him. His mind shuffled through the ways he could turn this to his advantage. She didn’t want the property half as much as she wanted to beat him at his own game. This was another one of her power plays.
‘You drive a hard bargain,’ he said when he sat back again.
She acknowledged that with an aristocratic tilt of her head. ‘You want me to be your wife? That’s the price you have to pay.’
Remy knew he could turn this around. Easily. Besides, she had got under his skin with her haughty airs and don’t-touch-me looks.
He knew she wanted him.
It was in the air between them every time they were alone. It had been there for years, truth be told. Now he could act on the desire he had always suppressed for her. He could finally indulge his senses, binge on her body until she was out of his system and out of his head. It would not be much of a hardship spending a month or two with her in a red-hot affair. He would be the envy of every man with a pulse.
Remy smiled a secret smile. He would be the one to finally tame the temptress, the wild and sultry Angelique Marchand.
‘I don’t know...’ He rubbed at his jaw as if thinking it over. ‘Tarrantloch for a couple of months of pretence? Doesn’t seem fair to me.’
‘Fair?’ she shot back incredulously. ‘Of course it’s fair. I never wanted to be anyone’s wife either, for real or pretend. It will just about kill me to spend two months acting like I feel something for you other than loathing.’
Remy had never wanted to make her eat those words more than at that moment. She didn’t hate him as much as she made out. She hated that he saw through her game-playing and manipulative attempts to outsmart him.