Читать книгу A Suspicious Proposal - HELEN BROOKS, Helen Brooks - Страница 7

ESSIE felt ridiculously like an escaped convict on the run or some other kind of ne’er-do-well as she skulked back into the Blue Baron half an hour after Xavier had left the wedding reception, keeping an eye out for a tall dark Canadian as she did so.

She had grilled Janice on all the other girl knew about Xavier Grey before she had said goodbye, but had learnt little more than Janice had already told her. Christine’s cousin had said that Xavier’s branch of Charlie’s family had moved out to Canada before Xavier was born, but apparently Xavier had business links in England. And he was a self-made man; Janice had been quite emphatic on that point. A rags-to-riches story, by all accounts, she’d told Essie quietly, although her aunt June—the fount of all knowledge—hadn’t had any details.

Once in her hotel room, Essie sank down onto the bed, throwing herself back against the pillows as she contemplated the evening ahead with a groan.

At least she didn’t have to consider what she was going to wear, she thought ruefully. She had only brought a pair of jeans and jumper, a casual day dress and one cocktail number with her, knowing she was only staying overnight. And the first two options were definitely not suitable for a date with Xavier Grey! She groaned again, rolling over onto her face and burying her head in the pillows.

She’d been looking forward to a nice relaxed evening in her room, courtesy of room service and the TV—the train journey up from Sussex had meant an excruciatingly early start, to arrive at Christine’s parents’ home mid-morning—and now, due to her own foolishness, she admitted reluctantly, she was committed to an encounter that would be neither nice nor relaxed! She didn’t dare to consider Xavier’s reaction when she told him who she really was.

Still, she wasn’t sorry. She jerked herself upright, walked over to the full-length mirror in one corner of the room and looked at the reflection that stared out at her. The deep blue eyes were stormy and her soft, full mouth was pulled tight, and now she threw back the mass of gold curls that had escaped the knot she had bundled them into on leaving the wedding reception, and surveyed herself critically.

Okay, so she was slender and not particularly tall, and her colouring and physical appearance might not be the most robust for a veterinary surgeon, but she was damn good at her job—as she was proving every day at the small practice in Sussex where she worked. Brute strength wasn’t everything. She scowled at the image in the mirror. And even if the majority of the practice’s cases were domestic there were still some occasions when the animals were pretty ferocious, like that Great Dane a few weeks ago that had objected to being examined. The owner had all but disappeared and she had been left facing a gigantic pair of jaws that stated quite clearly its anal glands were its own concern.

She smiled at the memory, in spite of herself. She was fond of Monty and normally the massive Great Dane was putty in her hands, but he had suffered a number of undignified examinations in quick succession due to his problem and, that particular day, he had decided he had to assert himself.

Still, she’d rather take on ten Montys than one Xavier Grey. The thought dimmed her smile and straightened her mouth again.

A bath. She needed a few relaxed moments in a hot bath. She glanced at her watch and saw she had another forty-five minutes before zero hour. And after her bath she’d moisturise and paint and titivate herself and try to work up some sort of courage for the night ahead.

At exactly half-past eight, when Essie walked out of the lift into the reception area of the Blue Baron, she looked every inch the elegant, sophisticated woman of the world and not at all like the young, girlish bridesmaid she had seemed earlier.

The reasons for this were manifold—one, the delicate, up-swept hairstyle that confined her curls in an exquisite arrangement at the back of her head, allowing the long sweep of her neck its true grace. Two, her careful make-up, tasteful and refined, that enhanced the allure of her deep blue eyes and creamy clear skin. Three, the savoir-faire of her chic cocktail dress in midnight-blue silk with matching jacket—bought at a Sussex clothes shop which specialised in couturier, nearly-new clothes at a fraction of the original price. Four, her determination that she was going to match Xavier Grey every inch of the way tonight and leave, if not in a blaze of glory, then at least with her head held high.

And there were more reasons, some of which Essie was only faintly aware of herself, that were steeling her backbone and putting iron resolve in her spirit.

She had thought the fact that she emerged from the lift inside the hotel would preclude any further misunderstanding between them as to her identity, and that might well have been the case if Xavier hadn’t been deep in conversation with one of the hotel reception staff and missed her appearance.

As it was, he raised his head just in time to see her almost at his side, and she caught the flash of surprise in the silver-blue eyes just before he said, ‘Janice, I’m so pleased you could come. Our table is booked for nine but perhaps you would care for a cocktail first?’

A cocktail—the giddy empty-head was being allowed a cocktail, was she? ‘Thank you.’ She was all coolness and aplomb tonight and she knew it had thrown him. ‘That would be lovely.’

He led her into the hotel cocktail lounge with his hand at her elbow, and she tried not to think about how delicious he had looked in that first moment she had seen him. He had dressed up, as had she, and the black dinner suit and snowy-white shirt and bow-tie had made her heart pound. It was still pounding. It didn’t seem as if it would ever stop pounding.

‘What would you like?’

As she perched elegantly on one of the bar stools, she allowed a full ten seconds to pass by before she glanced his way, and then her voice was serene and self-possessed when she said, ‘Oh, a gin sling I think.’

‘A good choice; I’ll join you.’

Once he had given the order to the bartender—a Tom Cruise look-alike—Xavier turned the full intensity of his ice-blue gaze on her as he said, his voice thoughtful, ‘You look different tonight, Janice. Older, more…cosmopolitan.’

‘Do I?’ She arched her eyebrows at him but there was going to be no batting of eyelashes tonight. Tonight she was going to be every inch the twenty-eight-year-old, career-minded, strong woman she really was! ‘Well, I’ve never thought first impressions were the best to go by, Xavier.’ She smiled coolly. ‘They can be so misleading, don’t you think?’

‘On occasion.’ The narrowed gaze eyed her contemplatively.

Did he know how it made him look when he half shut his eyes like that? Essie asked herself silently. His maleness was emphasised a hundred times, bringing a rawness to his attractiveness that was a killer. But of course he knew! She answered the unspoken question in the next breath, her thoughts astringent. It was all part of the grand seduction scene. She had told herself in the first moments of meeting him that Xavier Grey wouldn’t conduct a liaison in the back seat of his car, and how right she had been. First the dinner, then the hotel room—she’d read him like an open book.

‘What’s the matter?’ Xavier asked with an abruptness that took Essie by surprise.

‘The matter?’ she prevaricated uneasily.

‘What made you look like that just then?’

Oh, help; oh, help. She looked back into the strong-boned face and she saw the cleanly sculpted mouth and square jaw were set in stubborn mode. He wasn’t going to be diverted, the body language was quite clear, but suddenly everything in Essie rebelled as unwelcome memories of another strong man—who had all but broken her heart and her spirit—came rushing in.

‘Nothing.’ She raised her chin as she spoke and met the silver-blue gaze head-on. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’ Then, as the barman produced two frosted fluted glasses, she turned to the young man gratefully, her voice laughing as she said, ‘Wow. Now that’s what I call a cocktail.’

‘And it will taste as good as it looks, ma’am.’ The good-looking face smiled back at her, frankly appreciative of the beauty of the woman in front of him. He had all sorts in his bar during the average week, but this one was something special.

‘I’m sure it will.’ Essie dimpled at him and then sipped at the cocktail. It was strong, and delicious. ‘It’s lovely. Thank you,’ she said smilingly.

Xavier had watched the little exchange without saying a word but now he reached for his own glass and Essie saw his face was expressionless. ‘Excellent.’ He gave his own commendation to the young man. ‘You’ve got the mix just right; there are some people who drown the sloe gin.’

‘Not me, sir.’ The barman grinned happily before turning away as another customer claimed his attention.

‘Shall we?’ Xavier indicated a quiet table for two in a corner of the room with a wave of his hand, and Essie slid off the stool reluctantly. It had seemed safer at the bar, if only because it was delaying the inevitable moment when she had to admit her deception.

They were just about to walk across the room when a sudden squeal of delight made Xavier freeze. Essie heard him groan slightly but then, as a tall, elegant redhead and a very good-looking young man with a shock of black hair hailed them from the doorway, he raised a hand in reply. Essie recognised them from the wedding reception but she had no idea who they were—although that was soon rectified as the redhead strode determinedly across to them, dragging her partner with her.

‘Xavier, how lovely! Have you eaten yet?’ she asked brightly. ‘They’ve just fitted us in for nine.’

‘I thought you and Harper were going out with some of the English relatives?’ Xavier answered the woman with a question and he didn’t bother to hide his irritation.

‘We were.’ The redhead smiled at Essie as she spoke, her blue eyes frankly curious. ‘But Harper didn’t feel too well earlier so we decided to give it a miss. He’s feeling heaps better now, though, aren’t you, darling?’

She smiled up into Harper’s face before she continued, ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us, Xavier?’ as she held out her hand to Essie.

‘Janice, this is Candy and Harper. Harper and Candy—Janice.’ Xavier’s tone was very dry as he added, ‘Candy is my niece and Harper is her fiancé.’

‘Your niece?’ Essie tried not to sound surprised but she didn’t manage it very well, as Candy’s next words indicated.

‘I know what you’re thinking but my mother, Xavier’s sister, had me when she was very young,’ Candy said quickly.

Essie smiled and nodded but didn’t pursue the conversation. She sensed there was something here that the other girl found difficult and she didn’t want to embarrass her; besides which, she was hoping the other two wouldn’t join them, even though she had instinctively warmed to Xavier’s niece. She had to tell him as soon as possible—and an audience was the last thing she needed. He had already introduced her as Janice, as it was, and now she was feeling acutely uncomfortable and more than a little guilty.

There was a moment or two of silence and then Xavier said, his tone resigned, ‘Would you care to join us for an aperitif?’

‘If that’s all right?’ Candy’s tone was subdued now; she had obviously clicked onto the fact that her uncle was less than pleased to see them.

‘Of course it is.’ Essie’s voice was warm. There was something almost vulnerable about Xavier’s niece; Essie couldn’t quite explain it, but she felt that behind the lovely façade of clear translucent skin, vivid blue eyes and wonderful chestnut-red hair the other girl wasn’t quite so confident as she appeared, and Essie forgot all her previous thoughts about being alone with Xavier as she aimed to make the young couple feel welcome.

And so it continued through the evening. When they all walked through into the restaurant, it seemed natural for Candy and Harper to join them, especially as their tables were next to each other and only took a moment to put together.

The meal was wonderful, all five courses of it, the wine undoubtedly expensive, and Xavier was an excellent host—courteous, amusing and urbane. But behind the cultured, suave exterior Essie sensed he was watching them all in the same way a scientist examined something he found interesting. He gave nothing of himself away.

As soon as the thought hit, she knew it was the truth. Xavier was the epitome of the cool, controlled ice-man, however light and witty his conversation, and however much that sexy, sensual mouth smiled. Sexy and sensual? She caught herself up sharply, irritated she’d noticed. He wasn’t sexy or sensual or anything else—he was simply the enemy, as far as she was concerned, and she’d better remember that. Once she’d told him—if they ever got to be alone for a moment or two—it would be wise to beat a hasty retreat. This was not a man to mess with.

They lingered over their liqueur coffees—the rich, brandy-flavoured coffee topped with whipped cream was the best Essie had tasted and the pianist who had been playing a medley of songs while the diners ate was excellent—but then, after Xavier had insisted the meal was his treat to Harper, the other two rose to leave.

‘Thanks, Xavier.’ Candy leant forward and touched her uncle’s arm with a smile.

Essie found herself asking—although she hadn’t meant to, ‘You don’t call him Uncle, then?’

‘Uncle?’ Candy grinned. ‘With only ten years between us? Besides, I’ve never thought of Xavier as an uncle; he’s the big brother I never had.’ There was real affection in the lovely blue eyes and, as Xavier glanced at his niece, Essie saw a softness to his smile she hadn’t seen before. And it hurt. Ridiculously, irrationally, it hurt like mad, because she knew he would never look at her like that. In fact, once she told him the truth, she didn’t dare to think how he would look.

But she didn’t want him to look at her like that, anyway! Good grief, it was the last thing she wanted! What on earth was she thinking of? The protests came, fierce and strong, and such was her agitation that she let her napkin slip under the table so she could bend down and retrieve it and compose her face again.

She loathed his type of man! She loathed him; he was a typical male chauvinist with a grossly exaggerated idea of himself. Okay, so this evening had been fun—she had to admit she’d enjoyed herself, in spite of everything—but that was because he was in entertainment mode, that was all. The real man was still there, under the façade of smooth dinner companion. He was a control freak, like the rest of his kind.

Essie had accepted a brandy when the other two had declined—not because she wanted one, but because it would give her an opportunity to talk to Xavier with other people around, and she had the feeling she would need their unsuspecting support. And now, as Xavier settled back into his chair, his powerful chest muscles flexing under the thin white silk of his shirt—the jacket long since discarded on the back of his chair—she took a quick sip of the fine thirty-year-old spirit as she contemplated how to start.

‘Don’t you ever relax?’

‘What?’ The deep, husky voice had been very soft and now Essie stared straight at him, her eyes narrowing warily. This was the start of the seduction programme, was it? The one that had been put on hold when his niece and her fiancé had joined them so unexpectedly.

‘You’ve been on edge all evening. I could almost feel the waves coming off you,’ he drawled lazily, ‘and you were the same this afternoon, but in a different way.’

He was too perceptive by half. She watched his eyes wander over her face and she knew he was doing it deliberately, his gaze pausing on the soft swell of her lips until she could feel them tingle as though he had kissed her.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said tightly. She was going to tell him, she was, but in her own way, and certainly not defending herself at the same time.

‘You’re like several different women under the same skin,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘and you change from one to the other like a nervous little chameleon. Why are you so guarded tonight, Janice? Is it me in particular you’re chary of, or all men?’

This had gone quite far enough and, in view of his comments, there would never be a better opportunity to tell him he had made a mistake—a big mistake—this afternoon, she thought feverishly. And then he completely took the wind out of her sails and had her floundering for words when he leant forward, his hard dark face amazingly tender, and said, ‘You’re a phoney, Janice Beaver. All this wild living and seeking of attention—that’s not the real girl. Has someone hurt you? Is that it? Whatever he did, whatever happened, he’s not worth messing up your life for. Believe me, I know.’

‘Xavier, please.’ This was awful, terrible. He was making her feel so guilty. She took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring, and removed her hand from where it was resting under his before she said, ‘This isn’t like you think.’

‘Someone did hurt you, didn’t they?’ It was as though he hadn’t heard her. ‘And badly.’

She wished she’d never started this. She swallowed deeply, the tension making her voice brittle as she said, ‘That’s nothing to do with this and it was a long time ago.’

‘Time’s relative and it might help to talk about it.’

She had to explain who she was. She took another deep breath, the elusive and very male scent of him teasing her nostrils as he leant even closer, his silvery eyes reflecting a shaft of light from the discreetly placed lamp above their table, and she had just opened her mouth to begin, to tell him, when the pianist stopped playing and instead spoke into his microphone, reading from a card one of the waiters had just given him.

‘Sorry to interrupt the flow, ladies and gentlemen, but there is an urgent call for Miss Esther Russell. If Miss Russell is here, perhaps she would make her presence known or make her way to Reception.’

‘Janice?’ Xavier’s voice brought her startled eyes back to his. ‘Don’t let him win, don’t let him ruin your life, because that’s what’ll happen if you’re not careful.’

‘I have to go to Reception.’ Essie’s voice was slightly hysterical but she couldn’t believe this was happening. It was like a black comedy, a dark farce.

‘Reception?’ And then his brows drew together as he said, ‘Esther Russell? Isn’t that the girl you were bridesmaid with today? Is she in the hotel, then? Do you know where she is?’

‘She—she is me,’ Essie stammered ungrammatically.

‘She’s you?’ He stared at her as though she had lost her mind and maybe she had, Essie thought wildly. Perhaps that explained why she had been so incredibly stupid as to think she could take Xavier Grey on and win.

‘Look, I must answer that call.’ She rose as she spoke and he rose with her, his manners impeccable even in the midst of all the confusion. ‘Please, you stay here.’ She couldn’t have him standing over her while she spoke into the telephone; she wouldn’t be coherent. ‘I’ll be back in a few moments, I promise, and then I’ll explain properly, but…but I’m Esther Russell and the call is probably to do with my work and it’ll be important. I…I have to go.’

He nodded, somehow giving the impression that he hadn’t moved a muscle at the same time, and she gave him one last helpless look before fairly flying out of the restaurant.

Oh, it couldn’t have all gone more wrong, she told herself frantically as she hurried over to the reception desk, and what on earth was this call about? It could only be Jamie or Peter, and they would never have bothered her unless there was some sort of disaster—but for the life of her she couldn’t think what.

‘Essie?’ It was Peter Hargreaves, who owned the small town practice where she worked, and his voice was both apologetic and frustrated. ‘Essie, I’m sorry to bother you on your weekend off and at this time of night, but it’s urgent. That case you’ve been dealing with, Colonel Llewellyn’s hunter? Well, the horse has taken a turn for the worse and I think I need to operate, but I can’t find the case history. The animal’s worth a fortune and you know how much the Colonel thinks of him—he treats him better than he does his wife, and I dare not leave anything to chance. I need to be fully acquainted with everything you’ve done so far and the strengths of the medication he’s on, all of it. The damn computer’s down and I can’t find the hard-copy file. Any ideas?’

Essie wrinkled her brow. They rarely bothered with the hard-copy files—Peter had an excellent computer system that was both efficient and fast—but there was always the odd occasion, like this one, when old methods came into their own.

‘It’s not in the filing cabinet, obviously, else you wouldn’t be ringing me.’ Essie thought for a moment. ‘Have you asked Jamie if he knows?’

‘He’s out at Sanderson’s farm: his daughter’s pony’s sick, and you know old man Sanderson. He must be the one person in the whole of creation not to own a phone,’ Peter said tersely. ‘Silly old blighter. It’s a hell of a way there, with the Colonel’s place in the opposite direction, and I might miss Jamie anyway.’

‘You say he’s gone to deal with Jenny Sanderson’s pony?’ Essie asked quickly.

‘Yes. It sounded like it had colic, which was what we thought the Colonel’s hunter had, but—’

Essie thought rapidly. She knew Jamie’s habit of slinging every scrap of paper that ever came his way into the huge bottom drawer of his desk until it became too full to close—it didn’t matter what it was: letters, cheques, circulars, reports—they all went in. ‘Could Jamie have got the Colonel’s file out before he went to the Sanderson farm?’ she asked carefully. ‘If the symptoms were similar, he might have checked that file first, in case it proved the two cases were linked.’

‘You think he’s taken the damn file with him?’ her boss growled furiously.

She hoped not, oh, she did hope not, because Jamie had been in hot water more than once lately for his cavalier attitude to paperwork and records.

Essie crossed her fingers and said rapidly, ‘I’m sure he hasn’t but he might have looked at it and, if he was in a hurry to get to the farm, put it in the bottom drawer of his desk for quickness until he got back.’

‘He’d better not have, not with the computer down. Hang on a minute, Essie, and I’ll check.’

The silence at the other end of the telephone made Essie aware of her surroundings again and, as she glanced across the thickly carpeted, luxurious reception area towards the big glass doors through which the restaurant was located, she felt her stomach turn right over. Xavier was going to be mad. He was going to be absolutely livid, she told herself weakly.

‘Essie?’ It was Peter’s voice again and now she jerked her attention back to the matter in hand. ‘I’ve got it. The young fool’s got everything but the kitchen sink in that drawer. You wouldn’t believe it.’

She would.

There was the sound of rustling paper and then Peter said, ‘Yep, I can see exactly what you’ve done and it’s fine, just fine. Right, I’ll take it from here and I’m really sorry to have bothered you, Essie. How did the wedding go?’

It was very much an afterthought and Peter was clearly anxious to get out to the Colonel’s place, so Essie kept her answer brief. ‘Very well, thanks, Peter. Look, I shan’t leave till about ten in the morning, so if you need me at any time before then, please ring. Okay?’

‘Thanks, Essie, but I’ll be fine now I’ve got the records. Jamie’s a damn good vet but he’s going to have to pull his socks up in certain areas.’ There was a brief pause and then he said, ‘Goodbye for now. You carry on enjoying yourself and I’ll see you on Monday.’

‘All right, Peter. Goodnight.’

Enjoying herself. Essie stood for a moment more before she put the telephone down and thanked the receptionist. Enjoying herself wasn’t quite the term she would have used…

Xavier’s dark presence seemed to fill the whole restaurant when Essie stepped back into the quiet surroundings some moments later. It all looked the same—the pianist was still playing, the other diners were quietly enjoying the excellent food, the odd hum of conversation and genteel laugh adding to the overall gentle ambience of the hushed room; but there, in the distance, was Xavier.

She hardly knew how to walk as she approached their table; she was vitally aware of the narrowed gaze trained on her face and the grimness that was reflected in every line of his big frame, but then she was sliding into her seat and looking straight into the icy countenance.

‘Well?’ One word—but more telling than any tirade.

‘I’m sorry.’ It was little more than a whisper.

‘Not good enough. Not nearly good enough.’ He stared at her for a moment more before saying, his voice biting, ‘You’re telling me you are Esther Russell, have I got that straight? Which means you are Christine’s best friend, not her cousin, and you’re a veterinary surgeon?’ The tone held a note of incredulity even the cold rage couldn’t quite hide, and that, more than anything else, put steel in Essie’s backbone. He still thought it was virtually impossible that she was an intelligent, successful and capable human being, she thought furiously.

‘Yes, that’s right.’ Her head was up and her chin was out and further thoughts of apology were out of the question.

‘So how old are you?’ he asked tightly.

‘Twenty-eight.’ It was a little snap. And then, before he could say anything else, she added, ‘And all this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been so darn rude.’

‘What?’ His bark brought a number of heads turning towards their table and, as Xavier became aware of the attention and glared back at the unfortunate diners, heads were quickly lowered to their plates. ‘I really don’t believe you just said that,’ he growled savagely. ‘You spin me a pack of lies and then you tell me it’s my fault?’

‘I didn’t spin you a pack of lies, not really,’ Essie shot back quickly. ‘You came to me, remember, and stated a number of things before I even opened my mouth. You assumed I was Janice; you lectured me on my lifestyle, my morals, everything, and we hadn’t even been introduced!’

‘You lied to me.’

‘I merely went along with your assumptions, that’s all. And, while we’re on the subject, they were pretty insulting,’ Essie said bitterly. ‘You looked at Janice and you looked at me, and in your mind there was no doubt about which of the two bridesmaids was the hopeful budding actress leading a somewhat wild lifestyle. You hadn’t spoken to either of us, you didn’t know us from Adam, and yet you labelled me a dumb little blonde. Right or wrong?’

‘This is crazy!’ Dark colour flared across the hard cheekbones and Essie had never seen someone look so furious in all her life. There was certainly no vestige of the cool, controlled ice-man left, she thought somewhat hysterically. The man in front of her was positively smouldering with fury.

‘Right or wrong?’ she ground out determinedly, refusing to be intimidated, even though her stomach was churning and her hands were damp with perspiration.

‘Wrong,’ he snarled grimly. ‘If I had thought you were just a dumb little blonde, I wouldn’t have asked you out tonight.’

‘Whatever you say, however you try and turn this round, you know full well I’m right,’ Essie said proudly, staring right back into the angry male face as she forced her fear and panic back down into the hidden depths of her. ‘I admit I shouldn’t have continued what you started—’ here Xavier, who had just taken a swig of his brandy, nearly choked ‘—but it was too good an opportunity to miss, if you want the truth.’

‘The truth? You don’t know the meaning of the word.’

‘Actually, I do.’ Violet-blue eyes held iced silver and neither would give way. Essie was conscious of the cry deep inside her that was saying she hadn’t wanted it to be like this, that she should have told him before, should have set things straight as soon as she had seen him tonight to prevent just such an occurrence as this; but it was too late now for regrets. ‘I’m a very honest person normally, but your arrogance annoyed me, if you want to know.’

‘My arrogance?’ he ground out with dangerous calm.

He looked as though he couldn’t believe his ears and perhaps he couldn’t, Essie thought faintly; it was quite likely no one had ever spoken to him like this in his life.

‘Yes, your arrogance,’ she said a little shakily. ‘You were pompous and high-handed and unforgivably rude, and you had absolutely no right to assume anything about me—or Janice, if it comes to that. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, Xavier Grey. No one has given me anything ever, but I’m a damn good vet. And I don’t appreciate any label—whatever it is—by someone who doesn’t know me. Is that clear?’

‘Abundantly.’

He had settled back in his seat during her quietly spoken tirade, the laser-sharp gaze assessing the angry young woman in front of him, and now the cool, sardonic tinge to his voice was incredibly galling.

‘And you can cut the lordly disdain,’ Essie fired back angrily, ‘because it doesn’t wash with me. I don’t care how rich or how powerful you are—you’re still ill-mannered and presumptuous and—’

‘You’re going to run out of adjectives before long,’ he said expressionlessly, his face now betraying nothing of what he was thinking. And the discipline he had brought into play, the regaining of that icy control and cool restraint, told Essie she had to get out of there fast before she further compounded her sins by flinging the contents of her brandy glass straight into that implacable countenance.

‘Goodbye, Mr. Grey.’ She rose abruptly, her face as white as a sheet but her voice firm. ‘And I shall settle the account for my own dinner, thank you.’

‘Now you’re being boorish.’ It was a soft, low Canadian drawl and had Essie’s hands clenching at her sides as her innate British sense of propriety warred with the red-hot desire to see Xavier Grey with brandy dripping off the end of his nose. The natural reserve won, but it was a close thing.

Essie was very aware of the subdued interest of the surrounding tables as she turned to leave, but it was the silver-blue eyes boring into the middle of her back that kept her stride measured and controlled as she left the restaurant with her head held high.

The control held until she reached her room, but, once she had closed the door behind her, she sank down onto the thick blue carpet. Her legs refused to hold her any longer.

How could she have said all that? She pressed her hands to her burning cheeks as she swayed back and forth in a little heap on the floor. Not that he hadn’t deserved it—he had—but she wasn’t normally like this, for goodness’ sake. He brought out the very worst in her, she reflected miserably. In fact, there was a whole side of her nature that had seemed to develop over the last few hours that was positively alarming.

She continued to sit for a few moments more, leaning back against the door as her mind went over every word and action that had happened below in the restaurant. And then she leapt up from the floor, walking over to the telephone and picking it up with a hand that trembled slightly.