[Bedded by blackmail 12] - The Blackmail Bargain - Robyn Donald.pdf - Bedded by blackmail - renee2010

Robyn Donald

THE BLACKMAIL BARGAIN

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

PROLOGUE

HARD blue eyes narrowing, Curt McIntosh surveyed his sister. ‘All right, you’ve hedged

enough. Tell me straight, is Ian having an affair with this Peta Grey?’

Gillian flushed. ‘Don’t you look down your nose at me like that! You remind me of Dad

when anyone dares to contradict him—high-handed, intolerant and dictatorial!’

His voice stripped of everything but the authority that underpinned its deep tone, Curt

stated, ‘Nothing you say is convincing in itself. Do you have proof that Ian is sleeping

with this woman, or is he just being a good neighbour?’

One glance upwards blocked Gillian’s first impetuous response. Not a muscle had moved

in Curt’s formidable face, compelling in its bold, predatory beauty, but she chose her

words carefully. ‘I shouldn’t have said that—about Dad.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ He pinned her with a steely gaze. ‘And you’re still avoiding the

subject.’

She flounced around to stare at the view outside his office window. In summer Auckland

was thick with jacaranda trees, and the one in the Domain over the busy city road was an

airy dome of lilac-purple. Its beauty did nothing to relieve the sick turmoil inside her.

With a spurt of defiance she exclaimed, ‘Peta! What a ridiculous name for a girl! I’ll bet

her father wanted a son.’ She gnawed on her lip before finally admitting, ‘I know Ian’s

not just being a good neighbour. There’s something else between them.’

Her brother’s straight black brow shot up. ‘What?’

‘Awareness,’ she retorted, temper flashing for a second.

‘Is this the intuition women are so famous for,’ he said drily, ‘or is your fear based on

something concrete?’

Gillian reined in her anger. It wasn’t fair ; she was four years older than Curt’s thirty-two,

but the extra years had counted for nothing since he’d turned fifteen and shot up to well

over six feet. Those extra inches had given him an edge that his intelligence and tough

ruthlessness had honed into a formidable weapon. Although most of the time he was an

affectionate brother, when he went into intimidation mode she took notice.

She said unsteadily, ‘You might not know much about love, Curt, but don’t try to

convince me you don’t understand sizzle! You were only sixteen when you seduced my

best friend, and you haven’t been wasting any time since then—’

Shrugging, he broke in, ‘Is that all you’ve got to go on? An awareness of sizzle?’

She flushed at the satirical note in his words and shook her head.

Dispassionately he said, ‘It happens, Gillian. It’s the way men are; we see a beautiful

woman and the hormones begin to stir. An honourable man doesn’t follow it up if he’s

already committed. I’ve always believed Ian to be honourable.’

‘Oh, how you testosterone brigade stick together!’ She forced herself to be calm because

he distrusted emotional outbursts. Eventually she said in a more temperate voice, ‘Curt,

I’m Ian’s wife. I love him, and I know him very well. Trust me, whatever it is that Ian

feels for Peta Grey it’s more than a quick, easily forgotten flash of lust. I’d accept that if

she was gorgeous, but she’s not. She’s not even pretty.’

‘Then what are you worrying about?’ Curt demanded, adding with cool logic, ‘Ian’s not

likely to throw everything away on a plain woman. What does Peta Grey look like?’

‘She’s striking,’ Gillian admitted resentfully, ‘if you like tall, broad-shouldered, strong

women. And that’s one of the reasons I’m worried—she’s not Ian’s type at all. The only

times I’ve ever seen her in anything smarter than a T-shirt and jeans and gumboots have

been when we’ve invited the neighbours around for drinks or a barbecue. She scrubs up

pretty well then, but she’s so…so rural . All she can talk about is her stock and the measly

few hectares she calls a farm.’

She paused, then added with bleak honesty, ‘Which is more than Ian and I seem to have

to talk about now.’

Curt examined her closely. Small and slight, his sister breathed urban sophistication; on

her own ground she’d hold all the weapons. ‘So what does Ian see in her?’

Eyes glittering with frustrated tears, Gillian snapped, ‘She’s tall, and I imagine her mouth

and green eyes make her sexy in a kind of earthy, land-girl way. Apart from that she’s got

lovely skin, brown hair usually dragged off her face and tied with string in a ponytail, and

a reasonably good figure.’

Curt inspected his sister from the top of her expertly cut hair to the slim Italian shoes on

her narrow feet. ‘She doesn’t sound like competition. Why would Ian fall for her?’

‘Oh, you know Ian—he’s always had a soft spot for people who work hard. Probably

because he had to haul himself up by his bootstraps.’ After a short hesitation she said

reluctantly, ‘And she’s a battler—she’s only got a few acres besides the land that Ian

leased her, but she manages to scrape a living from it.’

Curt had thought nothing of his brother-in-law’s decision to lease a small area to his

neighbour. Cut off from the rest of the station by a large gully, the land hadn’t been fully

utilised. Now he wondered why it hadn’t occurred to him to suggest it be planted with

trees…

He said judicially, ‘You’re sophisticated enough to know that men don’t fall in love with

every woman they admire. There must be more than that to it.’

Her desperation showing, she retorted, ‘She’s at least ten years younger than I am—she

can’t be much over twenty-three or-four. And a couple of months ago I noticed that

whenever he talked about her—which he no longer does, and that’s a bad sign too!—

something about his voice set every alarm off.’ She looked her brother full in the face.

‘You’re not the only one in the family with good instincts. I know when my marriage is

threatened, and believe me, Peta Grey is a threat.’

Curt’s brows drew together but he tempered his voice. ‘If you want me to do something

about it you’re going to have to give me proof, Gilly. So far, you haven’t.’

She spread her hands in a gesture that held elements of both appeal and despair. Elegant,

manicured hands, he noted, with Ian’s engagement and wedding rings making a statement

on one long finger.

‘I don’t think they’re lovers yet,’ she admitted, ‘but it’s only a matter of time, and I want

us out of Northland before—before it happens. A few months ago Ian was talking about a

job in Vanuatu managing your rice plantation there. He seemed intrigued…’

The words trailed away as Curt said quietly, ‘Gilly, be reasonable. I can’t just move him

on without some proof that it’s necessary. He’s doing a good job on Tanekaha; he’s

hauled the station into profit under budget, and he’s a skilful manager of staff.’

Tears welled in her eyes, but even as he found his handkerchief she fought them back

with a flare of anger. ‘Oh, see for yourself! I hate showing you these—I’m ashamed I

even looked at them!—but if you want proof, here it is.’

She groped in her bag, hauled out a couple of photographs and hurled one onto the big

desk. ‘ Now tell me I’ve got nothing to worry about!’

Curt picked up the photograph. His brother-in-law stood facing a woman, a hand lifting

to her face.

‘Check out this one too,’ Gillian said savagely, plonking another down on the desk.

If he’d had any doubt at all, the second shot banished it. This time both the people in the

picture had turned towards an out-of-focus blur that might have been a bird swooping

low, and the guilt stamped on Ian’s face would have convinced anyone.

Frowning, he examined the woman’s features. Certainly no beauty, but deep in his gut

something stirred, a primal appetite that hardened his voice. ‘Who took the shots?’

‘Hannah Sillitoe—Mandy’s daughter. She got a digital camera in her Christmas stocking.

Mandy dropped in to see us on their way back to Auckland after the holidays, and of

course Hannah spent every moment outside taking photos of anything that would stay

still long enough.’

Curt dropped the shiny images onto his desk. ‘How did she get these?’

‘She thought she saw a native pigeon fly into the big puriri tree by the stockyards. She’s

an adventurous kid so she climbed the tree, but she couldn’t see any sign of the bird. She

was on her way down when Ian and Peta came out of the old barn and stopped to talk.’

Her hands clenched by her sides. ‘Hannah was intrigued by the way the sun caught Peta’s

hair, so she snapped them. The flash must have startled the pigeon because it swooped

from the tree and flew towards them.’

Curt nodded. ‘Go on.’

She indicated the second photograph and finished in a voice brittle with humiliation,

‘They both swivelled around. Hannah tried to get a picture of the bird, but got that

instead. When Mandy saw them she thought I should know what was going on.’

Curt asked brusquely, ‘What happened then?’

‘Hannah said they went off in different directions.’

He examined the photographs again, reluctantly admitting they were pretty damning

evidence. Everything about the two figures shrieked intimacy—their closeness, the way

they inclined subtly towards each other, their unconscious mimicry of stance and posture.

And being a man, he could understand what Ian saw in Peta Grey. The faded T-shirt

moulded breasts voluptuous enough to stir a eunuch’s blood, and beneath the faded jeans

her legs were long and lithe. Her coolly enigmatic face challenged the camera, and her

mouth was sultry enough to tempt a saint; what would it take to shatter that air of control

and release the passion beneath?

Of course, you might find nothing but naked self-interest there.

Anger smouldered to life inside him. ‘Does Ian know you’ve got these?’

‘No, and I’m not going to tell him,’ Gillian returned with spirit. ‘I’m not that stupid.’

Curt noted the way the sun shone on Peta Grey’s hair. The elemental fire in the pit of his

stomach burned hotter, transmuting into something more complex than anger. When

Gillian spoke he had to yank his gaze from the photograph to focus on her.

‘Curt, why don’t you come up and see for yourself? Believe me, if I’m wrong I’d be so

relieved and grateful.’

Her voice broke on the final word and the smile she’d summoned wavered, then

tightened into a grimace as she fought back tears. ‘I’m sorry to lump you with this, but

there’s no one else I trust enough. And no one I can talk to.’

Which was his fault; Gilly had supported him when he needed her, and her love and faith

had been punished. Neither of them had spoken to their parents for ten years.

Curt slung an arm around her shoulders and drew her against him. She sniffed valiantly,

but eventually surrendered to harsh, difficult sobs, clutching his shirt with desperate

[Bedded by blackmail 12] - The Blackmail Bargain - Robyn Donald.pdf

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