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The Spaniard's Revenge [NOOK Book]


The Ford family caused Xavier Bordiu's brother's death. Now Sophie Ford works for him! Tempted by her beauty, Xavier will take his revenge in the most pleasurable way...

Sophie is still a virgin. But, as Xavier's skillful seduction awakens Sophie's sensuality, he finds the ice around his own heart beginning to melt. This is not the kind of revenge on which the Spaniard has bargained!

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The Spaniard's Revenge

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The Ford family caused Xavier Bordiu's brother's death. Now Sophie Ford works for him! Tempted by her beauty, Xavier will take his revenge in the most pleasurable way...

Sophie is still a virgin. But, as Xavier's skillful seduction awakens Sophie's sensuality, he finds the ice around his own heart beginning to melt. This is not the kind of revenge on which the Spaniard has bargained!

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781426872976
  • Publisher: Harlequin
  • Publication date: 8/1/2010
  • Series: Red-Hot Revenge , #2389
  • Sold by: HARLEQUIN
  • Format: eBook
  • Edition description: Original
  • Pages: 192
  • Sales rank: 630,135
  • File size: 461 KB

Meet the Author

Susan trained to be a professional opera singer at the Royal Northern College of Music in Manchester, U.K. During this time she was also a member of the BBC Northern Singers, who were broadcast regularly on radio as well as appearing in concerts nationwide. Whilst at college she won the Elsie Paine award for singing on three consecutive occasions and was subsequently granted a scholarship to study opera at Trinity College, London.

Susan was then offered a contract with the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company, where she remained for two years, leaving to present the BBC children's television program, Playschool. During this time Susan also appeared in pantomime and summer season, which led her to develop her own cabaret act.

Indulging in her great love of travel, Susan enjoyed a season on the QE2 before, on a second visit to Malta, she met her husband, Steve. Susan gave birth to two of her children, Sara and James, whilst living in Malta, but a move back to the U.K. came when Sara was taken dangerously ill and rushed into hospital by powerboat ambulance during a family holiday to Venice. Susan's first book, Help Me Mummy, I Can't Breathe, was written to share Sara's experience with other parents and received favorable reviews in both The Lancet and Nursing Times. It was also adopted as teaching material at St James' Hospital, Leeds, where the family settled. Susan gave many talks on the subject of coping with asthmatic children, culminating in a talk at Westminster Hall during celebrations of the Asthma Society's Diamond Jubilee.

Susan had another little girl, Leonie, and when York University opened its crèche, the time seemed right to go back into education. Susan was awarded an MA in music, after which she began teaching full-time. She was appointed a magistrate on the Leeds bench and now sits in Stockport. She wrote three books for educational publisher Hodder & Stoughton, Teach Yourself Singing, Teach Yourself Opera and Teach Yourself Musicals.

The next move occurred when Steve's work took him to Cheshire. After dinner at a Pride and Prejudice ball there was a charity auction. One of the lots on offer was "Spend a Day with an Author," donated by Penny Jordan. Steve bought this lot for Susan and the rest is history.... Penny became not just a really great friend, but also a wonderful mentor whose encouragement led Susan to concentrate on writing romance for Harlequin Mills & Boon.
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Read an Excerpt

The Spaniard's Revenge

By Susan Stephens

Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.

Copyright © 2004 Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.
All right reserved.

ISBN: 0-373-12389-2

Chapter One

THE man lounging back on the pale hide sofa appeared infinitely more at ease than the camera crew and reporters crowding the room. But he was suffering the glare of the lights, and people from Wardrobe were still buzzing around him like gnats.

As he sent a look spinning up to dismiss them, one girl holding a fat brush loaded with powder misread the signs and froze, trapped in his stare. Her eyes darkened and her lips plumped, all within the space of a few seconds. The television lights were blindingly bright but, as far as she was concerned, they might have been alone in a candlelit hacienda full of soft lights and low music.

"Enough," he snapped. "I don't do make-up."

The other girls took the hint, backing away step by step in a timid, doe-eyed flock, dreaming wildly he might call one of them back.

"Go," Xavier Martinez Bordiu insisted in a low, gravelly voice, flicking his wrist at the remaining girl. "Go join your friends. You're not needed here."

Abruptly, her eyes cleared and, as he watched them fill with tears of embarrassment, a pang of regret caught him unawares. Straightening up, he reached out to apologise, but she had already gone with the others and the double doors leading out of his apartment at the presidential palace had closed behind them.

What the hell was wrong with him?

As Xavier made a deep sound in his throat, feeling a stab of familiar pain, he saw the Floor Manager starting to panic. He made a signal to deflect the man's concern, but he was already calling. "Water for Dr Martinez Bordiu."

Xavier sat back again, oblivious to the splendour of his surroundings: chandeliers the size of houses, ivory fretwork screens, precious paintings banked up side by side as far as the eye could see on towering walls decked out in crimson silk.

This was a temporary stay at the President's personal invitation, but he had lived with such opulence all his life. It meant nothing to him. However sumptuous his living quarters, however attentive his staff, even a life of unremitting luxury could pall in the end. That was why he had trained to become a doctor. And that was partly the reason he had chosen to lose himself in Peru, in a medical project that meant everything to him.

His jaw clenched and then released again as he waited impatiently for the vanities of the woman who was shortly to interview him about the project to be indulged.

She had the dark flashing looks of a true South American beauty. She was voluptuous and provocative, with a fall of glossy, nut-brown hair cascading over her smooth tanned shoulders. And when she turned to look at him he saw the tip of her tongue creep out to moisten her lips.

He viewed her lazily through hooded eyes and saw her squirm a little on her seat to ease what he knew would be bolts of desire. He knew then he could have her after the show: here, where he was sitting, or straddling his lap on the hard, upright chair where she was having her make-up perfected ... or there on the Aubusson rug in front of the wall of windows so that everyone in Lima could get an eyeful.

He had that effect on women. And somewhere along the way it had all become too easy for him.

He never got involved. He didn't need to. He didn't need anyone. He was fine by himself. He had trained himself to be that way. Loving and losing, they were the same thing as far as he was concerned - and better avoided.

But that didn't give him the right to trample rough-shod over other people's feelings, Xavier thought, mouthing a quick response as someone brought over a jug of iced water and a glass. His thought processes changed track suddenly. Shutting out the rest of the room, he ran over the moment he almost made someone cry - not in pictures, but emotions, and found he cared ... he really cared.

He subdued the rush of relief that gave him as the presenter came to sit across from him on a matching sofa, and tuned his expression to neutral as the interview began.

"XAVIER MARTINEZ BORDIU! Are you sure, Henry?"

Shocked at hearing the name - even more shocked at blurting it out in a tone that made her boss's head shoot up - Dr Sophie Ford felt her cheeks flush red. She knew she only had herself to blame when Professor Henry Whitland levelled a thoughtful stare on her face.

"Xavier Martinez Bordiu is one of the finest physicians in Europe. We're lucky to have the chance to work with him," he reproved her mildly. "I can't think of anyone better to head up the immunisation programme in Peru."

But Sophie wasn't listening. Images of piercing navy-blue eyes were flashing through her mind ... and sun-streaked tawny-brown hair, the colour, lustrous and rich, like a glass of good brandy -

"Sophie ... Sophie?"

While her head of department struggled to recapture her attention it took Sophie a few moments to shunt her thoughts back on track. "I'm sorry, Henry. You were saying?"

He frowned. "I've heard Dr Martinez is something of a maverick, leaving all that luxury behind him and those vast estates ... half of Spain, wasn't it?' He shook his head and sighed as he thought of it. "But he's bringing his Midas touch to medical projects now, so perhaps we should be grateful."

He waited a moment, then stared at Sophie inquisitively. "You're very quiet, Sophie. Is there anything else about him you think I should know?' Laying down his gold-rimmed spectacles, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he waited for her to answer.

Xavier Martinez Bordiu? Sophie played for more time with a dismissive gesture. Rumour said Xavier had become Spain's most notable monument to chauvinism in a country hardly noted for the retiring nature of its men. Would she have volunteered for the project if she'd known who was in charge? Probably not.

"No, Henry," she said, able to reassure him on one point at least. "There are no skeletons in Dr Martinez Bordiu's closet as far as I am aware.' But even that wasn't strictly true, Sophie realised as her face burned a little hotter. "I hear on the grapevine that he's become a great doctor," she said, struggling to return to safer ground as her throat dried.

"You speak as if you already know him."

"I used to," Sophie admitted. "I knew the Martinez Bordiu family when I was a child."

"Ah," Henry said.

Why did she have a sinking feeling he wasn't about to let the matter rest? Henry wanted to be a lot more than her boss at St Agnetha's, and it was fair to say a kind of understanding had developed between them. Henry lived in the same village as her mother, whose knowledge of him was minimal, but enough for her to describe him optimistically as a safe pair of hands. Sophie had no argument with that. Henry Whitland was kind, thoughtful and very well respected in his chosen field. And one day she would have to make a decision about her personal life ...

"And Xavier?' he pressed.

Xavier, Sophie mused. The last time she'd seen him she'd been a hormonal teenager - but now she was a career woman with better things to think about than romance, she warned herself sternly.

"Xavier Martinez Bordiu," Henry said again, with a touch more impatience.


Excerpted from The Spaniard's Revenge by Susan Stephens Copyright © 2004 by Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 16, 2013

    Good story


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