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BOOK 2
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Being Yours BOOK 2
“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said to Mitch. “You took longer than I thought.”“Hopkins?” Mitch lowered his gun as Devlin moved aside with Mitzy. Relief filled him when he realized it had been Hopkins in the other car. “You came? Why?”Hopkins didn’t look at Mitch. Without so much as blinking, he lifted what he had in his hands—a gun—and aimed it at Mitzy.She screamed. Behind Mitch, Justine gasped.And for the first time in his life Mitch went blank. Absolutely, mind-numbingly blank. The gun slackened in his own hands. Mitzy, while a definite pain in the ass, hadn’t lifted a finger to Hopkins in threat, so he didn’t understand why the man he’d trusted so completely was pointing a gun at her. “What the hell—”Hopkins fired. Devlin bellowed and caught Mitzy as she slumped against him.“That’s for screwing me over,” Hopkins said quite calmly as he looked down at Mitzy in disgust. “For sneaking around behind your father’s back and dipping your nose in where you had no business being. A
Being Yours BOOK 2
Justine pulled one hand free, dipped it down the neck of her shirt, and took off the gold chain. Her two rings dangled as she offered it to him. “Aren’t you ever going to ask me to marry you again? I’ve been waiting and waiting you know.”Mitch smiled through misty green eyes, and took the necklace. His large hands never faltered as he removed the rings from the chain. “I never stopped being married to you in my heart.”“Yeah, well,” she said huskily. “You never got to see the best part of my wedding outfit, and believe me it was hot, so I think it’s only fair that we do the whole thing over again—”His mouth cut off her words. They kissed and laughed and cried, and then kissed some more. “I wanted to convince vou,” Mitch said a minute later when he lifted his head and caught his breath. “I was going to use ice cream.”She laughed, then sobered. “There’s us,” she whispered. “I don’t need anything else. Ever.”Touched, he cupped her face, needing to touch her, see her, feel her. “I’ve
Being Yours BOOK 3
PROLOGUENo. Oh, no. No/ Brand slammed his fist into the pillow. It wasn't possible. He swore, silently and with passion. He couldn't have, wouldn't have . . .The woman who lay beside him in the bed wrinkled her nose in her sleep. Brand inhaled a long draught of air. He had to stay in control. This square attic room with its sweating walls must stay in focus. He couldn't allow it to turn upside-down.Slowly the room—or was it his head?—came to rest the way it was meant to be. He forced himself to keep calm as he lay on his side and gazed at his companion of the night. If that was what she was. He supposed she must be. Her long, dark hair was spread out on his pillow and her chest rose and fell steadily, as if she had been asleep for some hours.Brand dashed a hand across his eyes. Surely to heaven he must be dreaming. Just as he had been dreaming last night that his Mary was once again beside him. Although Mary had been merely pretty, and this woman with the heart-shaped face, impossi
Being Yours BOOK 3
'Oh, but there is no need. I mean, are we not . . . ?' She stumbled to a halt.'No,' Brand said. 'We're not.''But—we are married.''I'm aware of that. But you needn't worry. I've already taken advantage of you once. I don't plan to do it again.''You would not be taking advantage.' She held herself stiffly^ unwilling to betray her hurt.'Of course I would. You're scarcely more than a child.''That is not what you thought three nights ago.'Brand put a hand over his eyes. 'Isabella, you have to understand. Three nights ago I had only just lost my wife. I didn't know what I was doing, and you offered comfort. For which I was grateful.''Comfort? That was all?''No, of course it wasn't all. You know that as well as I do. But it didn't mean anything, Isabella. Other than that I'd temporarily lost my sanity—along with the wife I had waited four years to marry.'Oh. Yes, of course. Brand was still in love with that fluffy blonde Mary—which was as it should be. All the same, she couldn't hel
Being Yours BOOK 3
She waved her chopstick at the pyjama-clad fence posts. 'I'm trying to explain to these men that we don't need any new beds.''Then you're explaining wrong. I told you I was having the double taken out.''Yes, but I didn't think . . . Brand, we are married. This is ridiculous.''No,' said Brand. 'It's sheer self-preservation. And a damn sight more comfortable than the floor.''But—''This isn't open to debate, Isabella. Now, get out of the way and let the men do their job.'The two delivery men exchanged smirks. She felt her cheeks turning pink.'Brand, please . . .' She searched his face for some sign of softening, and didn't find it. He was standing with his legs apart and both hands on his hips, looking like the Rock of Gibraltar on a power trip. This was one battle she wasn't going to win.The delivery men's smirks grew broader. Her face grew pinker. Biting her lip, Isabella turned her back on Brand and his accomplices and stalked back into the bathroom.'Damn,' she muttered, stabb
Being Yours BOOK 3
'He has offered for you^ Isabella, and he is our neighbour. When you marry him, our family holdings will be joined. Your children will inherit a great deal of land.'*I don't have any children. And we don't need any more land.' Isabella heard her voice rising in panic. Her father had an obsession with expanding his estates. In his youth, he had been a middle-class salesman, but over the years he had gradually built up his holdings until now he was a very wealthy man—a man the country's leading families could no longer ignore. He didn't need more land, but he thought he did. He said it was to provide security for his wife and six daughters, but Isabella knew that he was the one who needed to feel secure.'You will have children with Jose,' Diego explained, as if he were talking to a child who thought babies were mailed special delivery from the baby factory.'Ugh! But I can't bear him near me. Father, please. I don't love him. I don't even like him—''Enough.' Diego held up his hand. 'L
Being Yours BOOK 3
'Nothing.' He detached her quite gently, dumped a brown paper bag onto the table and pulled out a bottle of rye whisky.'But there must be something. Please—let me help you.''You? Help me?' It wasn't the unconscious cruelty of his words but the parody of a laugh that followed which chilled her bones.'I'd like to,' she whispered. 'If you would please tell me what's the matter . . .''You want to know what's the matter? All right, I'll tell you what's the matter. I lost my pilot's licence, that's all.' He unscrewed the top of the bottle and stood up. 'And that, my privileged little wife, apart from depriving me of the only work I know, means that you and I may soon be unable to live in this luxury to which we've become accustomed.'He waved an arm at the cracked walls and the dilapidated fixtures and went to the cupboard to pull out a glass.Isabella moved slowly across to the table and sat down. What was he talking about, this man who was her rock of security in a strange land? He co
Being Yours BOOK 3
Her mother-in-law was different in every way from her own quietly traditional mother. But it didn't matter. In no time at all the two of them had developed a mutual and very real affection.Once Mairead left, the basement felt even quieter and emptier than it had before. Deeply involved in his new venture. Brand still had little time left over for his wife.Often she visited Judy, who had started to teach her cooking as well as English, but she couldn't spend all her time upstairs. Judy had a baby, a family and her own circle of friends. Isabella, used to being surrounded by people, often found her own company desperately hard to endure.Then one day she bumped into Gary in the narrow passage between their doors.'Haven't seen much of Brand lately,' he remarked.'No. He's been very busy,' she agreed. 'I haven't seen much of him either.'After that, Gary began to appear at her door almost every day on one pretext or another. When Isabella found herself looking forward to his visits she
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