Rags To Riches Collection. Rebecca Winters. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Rebecca Winters
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия: Mills & Boon e-Book Collections
Жанр произведения: Короткие любовные романы
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781474067768
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felt as if a dam had held back his feelings for so many years, but now the dam had burst open, allowing the healing power of his love for the woman in his arms to sweep away all the pain that had gone before.

      ‘You really love me?’ she whispered, and the half-wondering, half-fearful expression in her eyes made his heart clench.

      He knew what it was like to grow up without being loved, and he vowed that he would tell Beth every day how much she meant to him.

      ‘Will you stay with me, carissima?’ He paused for a heartbeat and then, to her startled surprise, dropped down onto one knee. ‘Will you marry me, Beth Granger? I love you, and you love me, and we both love a little girl who needs us to be her parents.’

      He felt in his shirt pocket for the little square box he had been carrying next to his heart, and heard her startled gasp when he opened the lid and took out the teardrop emerald surrounded by diamonds that glittered in the golden rays of the sunset.

      ‘With this ring, I promise to love you and cherish you for eternity,’ he said softly as he slid the engagement ring onto her finger. ‘I will repeat that vow in the chapel on the day you become my wife.’ He looked into her eyes, his own blazing with his love for her. ‘Will you, Beth?’

      The faint note of uncertainty in his voice brought a lump to Beth’s throat. Beneath the strong and powerful man she glimpsed the vulnerable boy who had been taught that love was a weakness. She knew how hard he found it to reveal his emotions, but she would make sure he knew every day that he was loved.

      ‘I will,’ she assured him.

      And there was no need to say anything more as Cesario swept her up and carried her back to the castle, pausing on the steps to kiss his soon-to-be bride—much to the satisfaction of Teodoro, who hurried to inform the rest of the staff to prepare for a wedding.

      * * * * *

       At Home With The Boss

       The Secret Sinclair

       Cathy Williams

       The Nanny’s Secret

       Elizabeth Lane

       A Home for the M.D.

       Gina Wilkins

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

       The Secret Sinclair

      Cathy Williams

      CATHY WILLIAMS can remember reading Mills & Boon Modern Romance books as a teenager, and now that she is writing them she remains an avid fan. For her, there is nothing like creating romantic stories and engaging plots, and each and every book is a new adventure. Cathy lives in London, and her three daughters – Charlotte, Olivia and Emma – have always been, and continue to be, the greatest inspirations in her life.

      RAOUL shifted as quietly as he could on the bed, propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at the woman sleeping contentedly next to him. Through the open window the sultry African night air could barely work itself up into a breeze, and even with the fan lethargically whirring on the chest of drawers it was still and humid. The net draped haphazardly over them was very optimistic protection against the mosquitoes, and as one landed on his arm he slapped it away and sat up.

      Sarah stirred, opened her eyes sleepily and smiled at him.

      God, he was beautiful. She had never, ever imagined that any man could be as beautiful as Raoul Sinclair. From the very first moment she had laid eyes on him three months ago she had been rendered speechless—and the effect still hadn’t worn off.

      Amongst all the other people taking their gap years, he stood head and shoulders above the rest. He was literally taller than all of them, but it was much more than that. It was his exotic beauty that held her spellbound: the burnished gold of his skin, the vibrancy of his black, glossy hair—long now; almost to his shoulders—the latent power of his lean, muscular body. Although he was only a matter of a few years older than the rest of them, he was a man amongst boys.

      She reached up and skimmed her hand along his back.

      ‘Mosquitoes.’ Raoul grinned, dark eyes sweeping over her smooth honey-gold shoulders down to her breasts. He felt himself stirring and hardening, even though they had made love less than a few hours ago. ‘This net is useless. But, seeing that we’re now both up and wide awake …’

      With a little sigh of pleasure Sarah reached out and linked her hands around his neck, drawing him to her and wriggling restlessly as his mouth found hers.

      A virgin when she had met him, she knew he had liberated her. Every touch had released new and wonderful sensations.

      Her body was slick with heat and perspiration as he gently pulled down the thin sheet which was all they could endure out here.

      She had the most wonderful breasts he had ever seen, and with a sudden pang of regret for things to come Raoul realised that he was going to miss her body. No—much more than that. He was going to miss her.

      It was a situation he had not foreseen when he had decided to take three months off to work in Mozambique. At the time, it had seemed a fitting interlude between the conclusion of university—two hard-won degrees in Economics and Maths—and the start of what he intended to be the rest of his life. Before he threw himself into conquering the world and putting his own personal demons to rest he would immerse himself in the selflessness of helping other people—people as unfortunate as he himself had been, although in a completely different way.

      Meeting a woman and falling into bed with her hadn’t been on his radar. His libido, like everything else in his life, was just something else he had learnt to control ruthlessly. He had intended to spend three months controlling it.

      Sarah Scott, with her tangled blonde hair and her fresh-faced innocence, was certainly not the sort of woman he fancied himself drawn to. He generally went for tougher, more experienced types—women with obvious attractions, who were as willing as he was to have a brief, passionate fling. Women who were ships passing in the night, never dropping anchor and more importantly, never expecting him to.

      One look at Sarah and he had recognised a girl who would be into anchors being dropped, but it hadn’t been enough to keep him away. For two weeks, as they’d been thrown together in circumstances so far removed from reality that it was almost like living in a bubble, he had watched her broodingly out of the corner of his eye, had been aware of her watching him. By the end of week three the inevitable had become reality.

      They made love now—quietly and slowly. The house they shared with six other occupants had walls as thin as tracing paper, and wooden floors that seemed to transmit sound with ruthless efficiency.

      ‘Okay,’ Raoul whispered, ‘how close do you think I can get before you have to stifle a groan?’

      ‘Don’t,’ Sarah whispered back with a giggle. ‘You know how hard it is …’

      ‘Yes, and it’s what I like about you. One touch and I can feel your body melt.’ He touched her accordingly, a feathery touch between her generous breasts, trailing a continuous line to circle her prominent nipples until she was squirming and breathing quickly, face flushed, her hand curling into his over long hair.

      As he delicately licked the stiffened, swollen tip of her nipple he automatically