The Throne He Must Take Read online

  A missing prince...

  Playboy Jarek is no stranger to the darkness within him. Psychotherapist Dr. Holly Maitland is his chance to unlock the secrets from his past. But alone with Holly in the Austrian Alps, all Jarek can think about is peeling away her cool demeanor one tantalizing layer at a time!

  ...a forbidden attraction

  Holly can see straight through Jarek’s tactics of distraction. But the lure of his caress opens her body to sensual delights she once believed impossible. If what Holly suspects is true and Jarek is the missing prince of Vostov, dare she hope he will claim her as well as his rightful throne?

  Jarek pushed his hair off his brow and acknowledged that if he had not been stuck halfway up a mountain he would have headed to the nearest bar and sought to escape the demons inside him with a bottle of vodka and an attractive blonde—or two.

  He remembered the girls at Bibiana’s Bar, and for a moment he was tempted to take the fourby- four parked outside the chalet and drive himself to Arlenwald to hook up with Halfrida and her friends. It would be worth it just to ruffle Dr Maitland’s feathers.

  His lips twitched as he remembered Holly’s outraged expression when she’d discovered him in the bar. The truth was he would like to do more than ruffle her, he brooded.

  His body stirred as he pictured her delectable curves. She was an intriguing mix of uptight schoolmistress and sensual siren, and Jarek couldn’t remember the last time he had been intrigued by a woman.

  If only she were someone other than his psychologist. Hell, if he had been someone else—someone better than the man he knew he was—he would have enjoyed allowing their mutual sexual attraction to reach its logical conclusion and taken her to bed. But Holly had stated that she wanted to find out what made him tick, and he was utterly determined to prevent her from uncovering the secrets buried deep in his soul.

  The Saunderson Legacy

  Jarek and Elin Saunderson had nothing until they were adopted into the high society of the Saunderson family.

  Now, following the death of the parents they adored, they soon discover a maze of secrets which threaten to destroy their legacy and leads them each to uncover unforeseen passions…

  Find out more in…

  The Secret He Must Claim

  A shocking revelation in her adoptive father’s will forces Elin into a marriage of convenience with the father of her secret baby!

  The Throne He Must Take

  Playboy Jarek needs help to uncover the secrets of the past—if he can only resist the temptation in front of him…Dr Holly Maitland!

  Both available now!

  The Throne He Must Take

  Chantelle Shaw

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  CHANTELLE SHAW lives on the Kent coast and thinks up her stories while walking on the beach. She has been married for over thirty years and has six children. Her love affair with reading and writing Mills & Boon stories began as a teenager, and her first book was published in 2006. She likes strong-willed, slightly unusual characters. Chantelle also loves gardening, walking and wine!

  Books by Chantelle Shaw

  Mills & Boon Modern Romance

  Acquired by Her Greek Boss

  To Wear His Ring Again

  A Night in the Prince’s Bed

  Captive in His Castle

  The Saunderson Legacy

  The Secret He Must Claim

  Wedlocked!

  Trapped by Vialli’s Vows

  Bought by the Brazilian

  Mistress of His Revenge

  Master of Her Innocence

  The Howard Sisters

  Sheikh’s Forbidden Conquest

  A Bride Worth Millions

  The Bond of Brothers

  His Unexpected Legacy

  Secrets of a Powerful Man

  Visit the Author Profile page

  at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

  Contents

  Cover

  Back Cover Text

  Introduction

  The Saunderson Legacy

  Title Page

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Extract

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  What did happen to Vostov’s royal children?

  THE NEWSPAPER HEADLINE caught Holly Maitland’s eye when she walked into the reception lounge of the Frieden Clinic to await the arrival of her new client.

  The exclusive private psychiatric practice catered for an international clientele, and like most of the clinic’s staff Holly was fluent in several languages. She noted that the French, Italian and German newspapers all bore similar headlines to the English papers. But until the recent media interest in Vostov she—and, she suspected, many other people—had never heard of the tiny principality in the Balkans.

  She turned her attention away from the newspapers, which were neatly arranged on a coffee table in front of an elegant brocade sofa. Large windows on three sides of the room offered spectacular views of the Austrian Alps. The gentle tick of an antique wall clock barely intruded on the cloistered quiet of the lounge, and the general ambience was one of discreet luxury.

  Outside, the mountains stood guard like a craggy fortress, with their sharp peaks pointing towards a topaz-blue sky. Last night’s fresh snowfall glistened in the winter sunshine.

  Holly scrutinised the road that snaked its way up from Salzburg. The snow-clearing machines had already done their job, but there were no cars on the road and her client was late.

  She felt a flicker of irritation as she wondered why he had declined to be collected from the airport by a chauffeur and driven to the Frieden Clinic which was the usual arrangement. She hoped he was not going to be difficult, but all the indications suggested that Jarek Dvorska Saunderson was likely to be a pain in someone’s backside. Hers.

  Jarek was a high-flier in the City of London, often described as ‘the man with the Midas touch’ after his success on the stockmarket which had earned him a personal multi-million-pound fortune. But a couple of years ago there had been problems at Saunderson’s Bank—one of the UK’s most prestigious private banks—where Jarek had held a senior position. He had been fired by the bank’s new chairman, who also happened to be his brother-in-law: Spanish business tycoon Cortez Ramos.

  The blip in his career had evidently not impacted on Jarek’s jet-set lifestyle. He was pursued relentlessly by the paparazzi, and rarely did a week pass without another exposé in the tabloids of his outrageous exploits—usually accompanied by a photo of him with a blonde bimbo draped around him.

  Stories of his heavy drinking, partying and womanising were legendary—as was his passion for the risky sport of motorbike racing. There had been intense news coverage recently, when he had crashed his bike during a race and afterwards assaulted a journalist who had tried to interview him. It was that event which had apparently prompted Jarek to seek help for his ‘issues’, Professor Franz Heppel, the medical director of the Frieden Clinic, had explained to Holly during a briefing about her new patient.

  She glanced at the clock. Maybe he wasn’t coming? She knew only too well how hard it was to face up to personal demons, and from the sound of it Jarek Saunderson had his fair share of those.

  A rumbling noise jolted her from her thoughts and she instinctively looked up at the higher slopes of the mountains. During the winter months the avalanche risk in the Alps was high, particularly after heavy snowfall. But ther
e was no sign of the kind of fast-moving white mass that struck fear into the hearts of skiers and climbers. She looked back at the road as the throaty, roaring noise grew louder and saw a motorbike hurtling around the bends.

  Minutes later Holly watched the bike turn onto the private road leading to the Frieden Clinic and wondered if the rider was her client. It would be typical of everything she’d heard about Jarek for him to ride a motorbike into the mountains in January, when there was the threat of treacherous black ice on the roads. A sports commentator who had watched him compete in the notoriously dangerous Isle of Man TT superbike race had suggested that either Jarek had a death wish or a massive ego which made him believe he was indestructible.

  Her first assignment at the Frieden Clinic promised to be interesting, possibly challenging, and ultimately—she hoped—successful, Holly mused. She was keen to make a good impression with Professor Heppel during the three-month probation period of her new job. His world-renowned clinic employed the very best international experts, and her appointment as a psychotherapist was a huge boost to her career.

  The noise of the motorbike stopped, and from her vantage point at the window she watched the rider dismount. As she passed the mirror in the entrance hall she glanced at her reflection, to check that her hair was neatly secured in its chignon. Her crisp white blouse, navy skirt and low-heeled black shoes were businesslike, although she noted with a grimace that the blouse gaped slightly across her bust. A result of too many helpings of the chef’s apfelstrudel, she thought ruefully.

  It occurred to her that Stuart would not have approved of her more voluptuous shape. When she had shown him pictures of herself as a nineteen-year-old photographic model he had raved about her slim figure, even though she had clearly been unhealthily thin.

  ‘My modelling career was ten years ago and I survived on a diet of apples and black coffee,’ she’d told him when he’d nagged her to go to the gym. ‘Women were designed to have breasts and hips, and I have no intention of starving myself to conform to the fashion industry’s unrealistic ideal of how women should look.’

  A few months after that conversation Stuart had dumped her and announced his engagement to willowy blonde Leanne, who was now pregnant with his baby.

  Holly swiftly shut off the painful thought as she opened the door and stepped outside to the porch to welcome her patient. She had moved from London to Austria two weeks ago, and loved living in the mountains where the air was fresh and clean. But the smell of cigarette smoke drifting towards her now made her wrinkle her nose in disgust.

  ‘Mr Saunderson?’ The man had his back to her, but she was sure it was him. He had removed his crash helmet and the streaked blond hair spilling over the collar of his black leather jacket was recognisable from his too-numerous-to-count appearances in the tabloids. ‘May I remind you that there is a strict no smoking policy at the Frieden Clinic? The house rules are listed in the brochure.’

  The broad leather-clad shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug. ‘I didn’t read the brochure.’

  Holly stifled the urge to knock the cigarette from his fingers and said tartly, ‘What a pity. If you had, you would have seen that the Frieden Clinic takes a holistic approach to treating nicotine addiction and has an excellent success rate for helping to break a dependency on cigarettes.’

  ‘I don’t have a nicotine addiction.’ He turned around then, and took another drag on his cigarette. ‘You wouldn’t begrudge the condemned prisoner a final cigarette, would you?’

  He spoke in a lazy drawl and his mouth crooked into a careless smile as if he was well aware of his devastating effect on susceptible females.

  ‘Smoking is a filthy habit,’ Holly snapped, forgetting that she should take care not to reveal her personal prejudices. But her first sight of Jarek in the flesh, rather than in a photo in a newspaper, had made her forget everything. If he asked her name she would be unable to tell him, because the single thought in her head was that he was lethally attractive.

  ‘Not as filthy as some of my other habits,’ he murmured.

  There was amusement in his voice, and a mocking gleam in eyes that even from a distance of a few feet away were like brilliant blue laser beams directed straight at Holly. She watched him grind the cigarette out against the sole of his boot and drop the stub into his pocket before he walked up the steps to join her on the porch.

  While she groped for her sanity, and for something—anything—to say, his smile faded and there was a hard edge to his voice when he spoke again. ‘And I no longer use my English adoptive parents’ name: Saunderson. I prefer to be known by the name I was given at bir—’ He stopped abruptly and then said, ‘By my Bosnian name: Dvorska.’

  ‘Right... Mr Dvorska. Um...’ God, was that breathless voice really hers? Holly cleared her throat. ‘Welcome to the Frieden Clinic.’ She frowned as she recalled his comment. ‘Why did you call yourself a condemned prisoner? Frieden is the German word for peace, and the Frieden Clinic is a place of sanctuary—not a prison. I hope you will find a sense of peace and tranquillity here, while I endeavour to help you on your journey to a lasting recovery from the emotional issues that have created a negative impact on your life.’

  ‘Peace?’ His laugh was an oddly grim sound. ‘I sincerely doubt I’ll ever find that. You say that you will be helping me on this wondrous journey to enlightenment?’ His tone was sardonic. ‘I’d assumed you are the receptionist. When I met Professor Heppel in London he told me I had been assigned a psychotherapist called Dr Maitland.’

  ‘Forgive me. I should have introduced myself.’ Feeling flustered, Holly extended her hand towards him. ‘I’m Dr Holly Maitland.’

  Almost imperceptibly Jarek Dvorska’s demeanour changed. He still spoke in that lazy drawl, as if he was bored with his life—which, according to the gossip columns, was an endless round of parties with his similarly louche millionaire friends—but his ice-blue eyes were sharply intelligent and his intent gaze gave Holly the unsettling idea that he could see inside her head.

  ‘You are not what I was expecting,’ he murmured after a lengthy pause.

  She swallowed as he enclosed her hand in a firm grasp. Heat shot up her arm, as if she’d stuck her fingers into an electrical socket, causing the tiny hairs on her skin to prickle. Far more embarrassingly, she felt her nipples tighten. Jarek dropped his gaze to her breasts and the eyes that had reminded Holly of glacial pools now gleamed hotly with a wicked promise that she assured herself had no effect on her.

  ‘It’s quite common to form ideas about another person before actually meeting them.’ She ignored the frantic thud of her heart and gave him a cool smile. ‘What were your expectations of me?’

  ‘I assumed you would be older,’ he said bluntly. ‘Frankly I’m not interested in unburdening my soul to a psychologist. I’m only here because my sister believes I need to learn to control my temper, and my brother-in-law threatened to kill me if I do anything to upset Elin in the final weeks of her pregnancy.’

  He did not sound as if he was joking.

  Holly felt a pang of envy for Jarek’s sister. She’d had many years to come to terms with her infertility, but there was still a little ache inside her when she heard of other women who were on the magical journey to motherhood.

  She switched her thoughts to Jarek. There had been deep affection in his voice when he’d mentioned his sister, which belied his image in the tabloids of a reckless playboy who cared only about his personal gratification with an endless supply of pretty women.

  ‘I suppose your reference to my age means you think I lack experience? But I can assure you I have a Doctorate in Counselling Psychology and Psychotherapy and I have experience working as a psychotherapist in both the private health sector and the NHS in England.’

  The leather-clad shoulders lifted in another shrug that made Holly appreciate Jarek’s formidable physique. She was slightly below average height, which was why she had never made it onto the catwalk during her brief modelling career, and he t
owered over her. She estimated he must be two or three inches over six feet tall.

  ‘I don’t doubt you are highly qualified,’ he murmured. ‘Professor Heppel spoke very highly of you. But he failed to mention that you are beautiful, Dr Maitland.’

  It was not difficult to understand why women fell for him in droves. He could turn on his charm as easily as flicking a switch. His husky voice smouldered with a sensual heat that made her insides melt and it took all her willpower to meet his gaze calmly.

  ‘Professor Heppel offered me a job at his clinic based on my reputation as a dedicated psychotherapist,’ she said crisply. ‘Please—call me Holly,’ she continued. ‘We are going to be spending a lot of time together over the next few weeks and we need to feel comfortable around each other. It is important to establish trust and respect between a patient and his therapist.’

  ‘Comfortable...’ Jarek rolled the word off his tongue in a smoky, sexy voice that lit a flame in the pit of Holly’s stomach. ‘Women don’t usually feel comfortable around me. My talents are considerable...’ he grinned at her startled expression ‘...but offering comfort is not one of them.’

  ‘I don’t suppose it is,’ she said drily. ‘I’m sure your legions of female devotees are attracted to your dangerous image. But presumably your numerous shallow affairs fail to make you happy? Which is why you have sought the help of a psychotherapist to enable you to make changes in your lifestyle that will allow you to have more fulfilling relationships.’

  ‘I told you—I’ve only agreed to undergo therapy to please my sister.’

  His lazy smile did not change but the warmth had gone from his eyes, leaving them as cold and hard as ice. Holly gave a little shiver. There was something predatory about him that was at variance with his reputation of a dissolute playboy. She had a feeling that people saw in Jarek exactly what he wanted them to see. But if the life that he played out in the full glare of the media was a lie, who was the real Jarek Dvorska?

  ‘Why do women think that men can only feel fulfilled if they are in a relationship?’ he drawled. ‘I’m perfectly content to have shallow affairs—in fact the shallower the better. The truth is that the ultimate male fantasy is for hot, hard sex without strings. Emotional strings, I mean. Real strings add an interesting element to sex play, but personally I prefer to use silk cords for bondage games.’

 
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