Forbidden Fire by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page B

his hands—he had wanted to see the hunted, haunted look disappear from her eyes. Well, he had tried, damn it. Really, he had tried to be courteous, sensitive and patient. The girl simply didn’t allow for it.
    Anger stirred within him again as he remembered how the wily old Sir Thomas had extracted his promise to care for her. He had harped upon his friendship with Ian’s father, he had reminded him that he had stood behind his decision to become an architect, then he had coughed and reminded him that he was going to die.
    Ian hadn’t really believed him at the time. And it had been his turn to remind Sir Thomas of a few things. Such as the fact that he had so recently lost his wife. That he was an American, with no desire to be anything other. That he must take a young woman far across the sea if he was to be of any assistance to her at all.
    And he had reminded Sir Thomas that he had become a harsh and cold and bitter man, and Sir Thomas had merely smiled. “You will promise me, Ian. You will promise me.”
    And somehow, he had promised.
    So now here he was in London, when he should have been home.
    Oh, it didn’t hurt to come to England. The Tremayne stores always cried out for English goods. But Ian’s interest was not in the stores.
    The Tremayne dynasty had been founded by Ian’s grandfather, a wily Scot who had spelled his name the old way, Iain. He had made his fortune in the gold rush, and had started the emporium. His son James had inherited the Scots business acumen, and the stores had prospered.
    James had assumed that his son Ian would love the business as he did. But another fire burned within the son, the fire to build. He loved his city, loved the Bay, loved the fogs that rolled in, loved the coolness and the rugged, beautiful terrain.
    It had been Sir Thomas who had written to James over fifteen years ago that he’d be a fool not to allow his son to follow his dream. There was no reason that Ian could not keep the family fortune in balance with the stores and study this new trade.
    So there was much that Ian owed Sir Thomas. And his own father, he thought affectionately. James had succumbed to pneumonia five years ago, but he had lived long enough to admire some of Ian’s projects. He had lived long enough to meet Diana, and to believe that his father’s dreams of a great merchant empire would live through his progeny.
    No more, Father, he thought. I have lost her, and there will not be another.
    A few women entered into his life, but none that he allowed to touch his heart. San Francisco could be a very progressive city, and he had discovered after the first bitter grief had faded into the depths of his heart that he was still alive, still healthy and still in need of physical companionship.
    It always seemed to be available. And he was careful never to whisper words that he did not mean or to issue promises he would never keep. He drove himself with his work, he knew it. But it seemed to be all that was left for him. The child he and Diana had both so longed for had died with her, and he had cast himself into not just the dream of a particular building, but into a dream of building a city.
    He meant to pull out a glass for his brandy; he did not. He drank deeply from the bottle, leaning back. His thoughts, which had been on his wife, strayed.
    Damn the girl with her green cat’s eyes. She was trouble. He didn’t dare leave her here on her own. He’d meant to make arrangements and hurry back without her. She could come over at her leisure. Now he didn’t dare. As her father had feared, there was clearly a lover in her life. And she seemed willing, no matter what her promises, to throw away her inheritance to have this man.
    Ian swallowed deeply again, then set down the bottle and leaned back. He felt the liquor sweep warmly through him. He closed his eyes.
    He did not open them again that night. He stretched his legs out on top of the desk,