Romance of a Lifetime Read Free

performance, so enthralled with the poignancy of the final act of the opera that she was loath to move, she might have escaped the theatre without further incident. But as she had been, and she was, she was literally a sitting target for his forceful determination.
    By the time she realised that, the damned man had once more taken charge of her without somuch as a word being spoken, and she was politely but firmly being hurtled through the crowd of milling people who, now that the performance was over, were eager to leave the amphitheatre. They had been an appreciative audience during the last four hours but now that the opera was over it was as if the magnitude of it all had made them realise a need to get on with their lives.
    'Will you stop doing this?' Beth came to an abrupt halt, unconcerned by the people who accidentally knocked into her in the process, wrenching her arm out of his grasp. 'I do not appreciate this habit you have of—of manhandling me!' She rubbed the touch of his hand off her arm, her eyes glaring her displeasure.
    He held up his hands defensively. 'I just thought it——'
    'I really don't care what you thought, Mr…?' She looked at him pointedly, her mouth firm as she made him remember the fact that they hadn't even been introduced.
    'Craven,' he supplied softly. 'Marcus Graven.'
    Why was he looking at her like that, as if she should know the name? If that were the case she was afraid she had to disappoint him; the name wasn't in the least familiar to her. Not that she would have given him the satisfaction of acknowledging it even if it had been!
    'Well, Mr Craven,' she continued coldly, 'whatever you may have thought to the contrary, I do not appreciate being dragged about by you like a sack of potatoes that-—'
    'Nothing like a sack of potatoes,' he cut in mockingly, his gaze on her appreciative.
    Beth met that gaze unflinchingly, determined to show him that she wasn't in the least impressed by him or anything he had done tonight. ' Whatever you may have thought I was, Mr Craven,' she said in a controlled voice, 'I have found your behaviour this evening very offensive.' She sighed. 'I politely refused your offer of a drink, refusals you completely ignored, incidentally,'

    this evening very offensive.' She sighed. 'I politely refused your offer of a drink, refusals you completely ignored, incidentally,'
    she snapped, 'only to find myself taken over by you in a way that was as unnecessary as it was arrogant. Now if you will excuse me—once again!—the evening is at an end and I wish to return to my hotel.'
    'No,' he said evenly.
    Already in the process of making her dignified exit after what she had believed to be a complete set-down, Beth was instantly halted hi her tracks, turning slowly back to Marcus Craven. 'What do you mean, no?' she repeated dazedly.
    'I mean, no, I don't excuse you,' he returned coolly. 'I recognised a fellow—Brit,' he mockingly amended the earlier assumption he had made that had irritated her so much, 'in a foreign land, thought it would be nice if you took pity on me and we could spend a little time together, the sound of a friendly voice and all that. But if you would rather be unfriendly there isn't a lot I can do to change that, is there?' He shrugged.
    As a performance aimed at making her feel guilty it ranked pretty high. In terms of actually succeeding in doing that it failed miserably, was completely wasted on her. 'Nice' wasn't a word she would ever have associated with this man, in any context whatsoever; she felt sure it was a word he had rarely, if ever, used before. As for him needing the pity he was trying to arouse in her…!
    No one looked as if he needed pity less—the man was the epitome of success. He certainly didn't need to seek her out, could have women at his side day and night without any effort at all. A possible language barrier wouldn't make any difference to that at all; this man exuded power, and that was enough of an attraction for a lot