The Ring The Spaniard Gave Her - Lynne Graham Page 0,12

speed.

He strode up the stairs to the bathroom off the bedroom and laid her down with care on the floor. ‘You need to get undressed. You have to get out of your wet clothes,’ he told her as he rang his housekeeper to order a drink and a snack for her.

‘So you can paint me?’ Suzy asked with a giggle, entirely removed from the urgency of her condition.

‘Not just yet,’ Ruy countered, crouching down to extract her from his coat and unpinning the wilted veil with ease to toss it aside. ‘How the hell do I get you out of this dress?’

‘H-hooks!’ Suzy advised with another inappropriate giggle.

Suppressing a groan, seeing by the state of her pale bluish hands that there was no way she was capable of undressing herself, Ruy gently bent her over and embarked on the many hooks. His wide sensual mouth clamped down in a hard line as the bruises began to appear. Against her naturally pale skin purple fingerprints ornamented her slim shoulders and upper arms while a long painful scrape and bruising marred her slender spine. He knew he wanted to find the guy responsible and thump him hard where it hurt most. The knowledge shook him because Ruy was very controlled and disciplined and he virtually never gave way to emotional reactions. After all, he had spent his entire life suppressing natural inclinations to concentrate on what he saw as his duty.

He stalked into his bedroom to dig a tee shirt out of a drawer. After his conversation with his sister, he was wondering if Suzy had been sexually assaulted as well and he felt murderous as he dropped the tee shirt over her down-bent head and threaded her limp arms through the holes before propping her up. Suzy was still shivering violently, mumbling to herself, barely aware, it seemed, of her surroundings or of him. That was a novel experience for a man used to being treated like a billionaire trophy to be acquired at any cost. Lifting her up with ease, he carried her into his bedroom, laid her down and rolled her into the soft blanket he had laid out, finally settling her back against the carved headboard like a cocoon.

‘Now you eat and drink,’ Ruy announced.

‘Not hungry,’ she muttered.

He wasn’t listening because Cecile had given him his instructions and he would follow them to the letter.

‘A hot bath would have warmed me up,’ Suzy complained.

‘Your body temperature has to be restored slowly,’ Ruy contradicted. ‘It’s safer that way. It would have hurt like hell anyway if I’d plunged you into a hot bath.’

‘It...would?’ Her head fell back against the headboard. ‘Where am I?’

‘My house.’

‘How did I get here?’

‘It’s not important. What’s your fiancé’s name?’

Suzy stiffened, drooping eyelids lifting high on her wide green eyes. ‘Percy Brenton.’

Percy Brenton, you are toast, Ruy reflected with satisfaction at acquiring the name. ‘Why were you marrying him?’

‘Dad...’ Her voice faltered and she blinked rapidly. ‘That’s private, I can’t discuss that.’

‘You can discuss it with me. It will remain confidential. You have been harmed. I will not harm you in any way,’ Ruy informed her levelly, his sheer confidence leaping out at her in his stance, his tone, his bright golden eyes that were no longer darker than pitch. Gorgeous eyes, she thought absently, totally gorgeous, exotic eyes.

A knock sounded on a door somewhere and her eyes slid off him to bump up against unfamiliar views and the huge window overlooking the snowy woodland scene outside. It was raining now, and the unseasonal fall of light snow was already melting fast. She was disorientated because she had never been in such a big bedroom or seen such furniture or the kind of classic paintings ornamenting the rough stone walls. It looked incredibly opulent and that was quite outside her experience.

Ruy stalked back into view with a tray. He sank down on the edge of the bed and extended a glass in a metal holder to her.

‘Not thirsty,’ she admitted.

Ruy ignored her, raising the glass to her lips. ‘Drink,’ he urged.

‘You’re very bossy.’ She sighed, sipping with difficulty and grimacing. ‘What is it?’

‘Milk and honey—’

‘Brandy would have been nicer,’ she told him, settling her dilated gaze on his and internally swooning, not from the sweetness of the drink, but from the sheer carnal impact of those lean bronzed features and the dark golden eyes so intent on hers. He packed a real punch in the charisma stakes, and he had the most amazing long black