CHAPTER 3

          Lord Griffin Blackwood-Carter, Viscount Torrington, the future 10th Duke of Richmond, stood before her, with enough tension emanating from his body to fire a rocket to the moon.

“Oh… Griffin,” she breathed unnecessarily, her mind at once accepting that he was the most sublimely handsome male she had ever seen and rejecting that fact at the same time.

          He seemed taller and more powerful than she remembered, his lean, muscular physique highlighted by the precise cut of his tailor-made charcoal suit. His chestnut hair was long and lent him an untamed appeal he really didn’t need, framing his olive complexion, flawlessly chiseled jaw, and aristocratic nose to perfection.

          Her gaze skimmed up over the masculine curve of his lips and settled on cold, pale green eyes ringed with grey that were boldly assessing her in return. His wide-legged no-nonsense stance set her heartbeat racing, and without thinking, Gloriana snuck out her tongue to moisten lips that felt dryer than the paper she held between her fingers.

          His eyes narrowed as they followed the movement, and Gloriana quickly cast her eyes downwards. She pinched the bridge of her nose to ease the ash of pain that hammered behind her eyes and blinked bewilderedly when a Mont Blanc pen was thrust in front of her face.

“Hurry up, Glow! I don’t have all day.”

          Gloriana wanted to remind him that she preferred being addressed with her full name instead of the nickname her father and most of the press gave her, but her throat was so tight she could barely swallow, let alone speak.

          She grabbed the pen, inching as her clumsy fingers collided with his, and scrawled her signature next to where he stabbed at the paper. Before she knew it the pages were whisked away, Griffin had grabbed her tote bag from Marine-man and he was ushering her out through the door with a firm guiding hand in the small of her back.

          Gloriana stiffened away from the contact and rubbed her arms. He was well over six feet and seemed to dwarf her own five-foot-ten frame.

“If you’re cold you should try wearing more clothing. You’re not on the beach anymore,” he snapped, hard eyes raking her body as if she were a foul piece of garbage.

          Blinking perplexedly, Gloriana looked down at her white T-shirt, black leggings, and black ballet flats.

“I was wondering… Ever heard of a bra, Glow?”

          His voice was silky, condescending, and Gloriana felt her breasts tighten as his gaze rested a little too long on her chest, her nipples firming against the fabric in a way she’d do anything to stop.

          Gloriana was taken aback by his hostility, and it was all she could do not to cross her arms protectively over her body. She really wasn’t up to dealing with any more animosity right now. But she didn’t say that.

          Instead, she stared at the Windsor knot of his red tie and rubbed at the goosebumps that dotted her arms. Griffin muttered something under his breath, shrugged out of his jacket, and draped it around her shoulders.

          She wanted to tell him she was fine, but before she could say anything, Griffin reached for her upper arm and almost dragged her down the long corridor, his clean, masculine scent blanketing her mind like a thick fog.

          Tension bunched her stiff muscles, but she could hardly tell him to slow down when all she wanted to do was get as far away from the airport as possible. When he paused at the entrance to the duty-free hall Gloriana glanced up, feeling like an errant schoolgirl being dragged around by an enraged parent.

          Gloriana tried to loosen his grip, put some distance between them, but Griffin ignored her attempt, tightening his hold before marching her through the swarm of passengers.

          It reminded her of a couple of occasions in the past when he’d stormed into nightclubs and strutted herself and Emeline out. Well, it had been mostly at her stepfather Charles Brennan’s parties… In hindsight, Griffin had done the right thing by making them leave at their age, but at the time, Gloriana had been extremely mad at him.

          She noticed the large steel doors leading to the arrivals hall and breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully, Emeline was waiting on the other side, and once through, Gloriana could thank Griffin for his help and bid him farewell until the wedding.

          Her nerves were shot, but the relief that washed through her at the thought of freedom was suddenly cut short as Griffin veered left and led her into one of the small, dimly lit bars that lined the cavernous concourse.

          The bar was long and narrow, with booths lining one wall and a polished wooden bar with red padded bar stools along the other. Except for two business types, deep in conversation, and an elderly gent who looked as if he might tumble into his early-afternoon schooner, the place was empty.

          Gloriana waited to find out what they were doing and was surprised when Griffin ordered two whiskeys, watching as he glared at the bartender, whose eyes had lingered a little too long in her direction.

          As soon as he’d moved off to get their drinks, Griffin turned to her, and Gloriana nearly recoiled at the feral anger icing his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing back in my sister’s life? What is your game? What are you up to? Are you here to destroy her life again?” he demanded, his voice harsh as he lowered it so only she could hear.

          Gloriana did recoil then and stared at him mutely. Six years just seemed to evaporate before her eyes, and they might have been standing in his father’s study again, where he’d accused her of something she hadn’t done and called her a cheap slut.

          Her eyes fell to his sensual mouth, now flattened into a thin line, and she quickly lowered them down the thick column of his tanned neck to rest once again on his silk tie.

          Looking at his mouth brought that devastating kiss to mind. Gloriana instantly reminded herself of his equally devastating rejection of her in an attempt to control her body’s unexpected leap of excitement.

          How could she still feel so quivery over someone who had treated her so appallingly? Who kissed her and then threw her away like she was dirt under his shoes?

          Griffin’s tense silence seemed to envelop her, and she realized he was still waiting for her to respond to his rude question. In all her mental pictures of how this meeting between them would go, this had not featured.

           In one scenario, Gloriana had imagined they might be able to put the past behind them and become at least good friends since they had Emeline’s well-being at heart. Laugh over her silly teenage crush and his mistaken belief that she had set up the private party that had been splashed all over the internet.

          In that particular daydream, she had raised her hand and said to him:

          ‘Please… It’s okay… Don’t give it another thought. I’m over it. It’s in the past.’

          But Gloriana didn’t think that would play so well in this situation, and stupidly, so it now seemed, she had forgotten to prepare the whole ‘busted-for-drugs-at-Heathrow’ scenario.

          How careless of her!

          Now she had to ad-lib, using a brain that wanted to drool over him like a beginner art student viewing her first nude.

          Only she was no longer an impressionable girl caught in the throes of her first crush, Gloriana reminded herself firmly. She was a mature woman in charge of her own life.

          And wasn’t one of her goals on this trip to meet Griffin as an equal? To look at him, talk to him, and put the juvenile attraction that had plagued her so often in the company of other men to bed? Metaphorically speaking, of course.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here at Emeline’s request… I was invited to the wedding,” Gloriana replied as politely as possible, given that his harsh question had evoked exactly the opposite response.

“And what an error of judgment on Em’s part that was,” Griffin sneered. “I can’t imagine what my sister was thinking… by dragging you from whatever you were doing in that place...”

          Gloriana frowned and glanced at the bartender, pouring whisky into two glasses, so that she wouldn’t have to look at Griffin. Perhaps the best thing at this point would be to apologize for inconveniencing him and leave quick-smart.

          She watched as Griffin picked up his glass and swallowed down the contents with a slight ick of his wrist. His eyebrows drew together when she made no attempt to do the same.

“Drink it! You look like you need it.”

“I do not need a drink right now, Griffin. What I need is a hot shower to scrape off this day and a soft bed,” she murmured, only realizing how he’d taken her innocent comment when his eyebrows arched.

“If that’s an invitation you can forget it,” he dismissed with a flick of his hand

          An invitation! God… This encounter was going from bad to worse… It wasn’t anything as she’d imagined… And her body wasn’t listening to her brain anymore. She needed to go away from him as far as possible.

          Gloriana expelled a rushed breath, and then inhaled just as hastily, wishing she hadn’t as Griffin’s virile and somehow familiar scent wound its way into her sinuses. She felt the shock of it curl through her body and suddenly felt too warm.

          Her heart rate picked up, and before she could change the direction of her thoughts, Gloriana was back at the kiss she had been trying so hard not to think about. He’d been lean and muscle-packed where she’d pressed against him, impossibly hard, and hot color stole into her face as she remembered her youthful eagerness in his embrace.

          God, perhaps she had even instigated it! How mortifying… Especially in light of the fact that she couldn’t recall any other man’s kisses quite so readily.