The Spaniard's Blackmailed Bride
Chapter One
IT WAS much too late for a social call.
Briar Davenport crossed the entrance hall uneasily, the click of her heels on the dusty terrazzo
tiles echoing in the lofty space while a premonition that all was not right in the world played havoc
with her nerves.
Late-night visitors rarely meant good news.
The chimes rang out yet again and she reined in an unfamiliar urge to yell for whoever it was to
hang on. But Davenports never yelled through doors-even when their senses were strained tight
from trying to work out which family heirloom to send next to auction-it was bad enough that
these days they were reduced to opening them.
Her hand hovered over the door handle for a moment while she took a deep breath, trying to calm
her frayed nerves and think logically. It didn't have to be bad news. Sooner or later their run of
bad luck had to change. Why not tonight?
Then she pulled open the door and bad luck just got worse. "You!"
Diablo Barrentes leant into the open doorway, one arm propped high above her head, his black-clad
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