Читать книгу No Holding Back - Kate Walker - Страница 8

‘SAFFRON is an unusual name—though I suspect that you’re more than tired of people commenting on it.’

‘Oh, well, it was my aunt who suggested it. It came from a favourite song of hers.’ Saffron was determined not to let him see how exactly he had bit upon the truth. ‘And by the time they’d named five other daughters my parents had run out of names that they liked.’

To his credit, Niall didn’t even blink, which was surprising. Many people were so accustomed to the idea of small families that the thought of six children—and all of the same sex—had them reeling back in astonishment. Owen had almost had to pick himself up off the floor when she had told him.

‘Saffy’s the youngest of this ridiculously huge family.’ Owen had grown tired of being kept out of the conversation. ‘Seven women! It’s no wonder her father buried himself in his books.’ Reaching for the wine-bottle, he refilled his glass.

‘Don’t you think you’d better go easy?’ Saffron put in hastily, and was subjected to a look of such withering scorn that the protest died on her lips.

‘Lighten up, Saff! No one likes a killjoy.’

Owen’s retort was accompanied by a swift, expressive glance in Niall Forrester’s direction. It was a look of pure conspiracy, man to man, of banding together in the face of female constraint in a way that made her prickle with irritation.

‘But you’re driving me home.’

‘I’ll be fine——’

And her concern was dismissed, so that unless she persisted, creating a nasty little scene in front of the interestedly watchful Niall, she had no option but to remain uncomfortably silent.

Perhaps in the past she might have shrugged off Owen’s behaviour, possibly even telling herself that she might have over-reacted. But tonight she found that his rudeness had her boiling inside, anger searing through her like a red-hot tide so that she had to bite her lip hard in order not to tell him exactly what she thought of him. In fact, looking at his smiling self-absorbed face as he returned once more to his favourite subject of the proposed takeover, she was forced to wonder what she had ever seen in him.

Could she really have ever considered sleeping with this man? But hadn’t that been exactly what she had planned on doing—last night, at least? Barely twenty-four hours ago, she realised, surreptitiously consulting the slim gold watch on her wrist, she had been so sure about everything. Now, she no longer knew what she felt. It all seemed to have happened since Niall Forrester had come into her life.

‘I’m sorry——’ Niall’s sharp eyes had caught the tiny movement as she checked the time. ‘We’re boring you.’

‘Not at all.’ She hoped that her cool tones would communicate that nothing he could do would trouble her in the least. ‘I appreciate that you have plenty to talk to Owen about. After all, it’s his company that you’re going to buy.’

‘Possibly.’ The single word held a suggestion of doubt, a reminder that all was not yet certain. ‘If I decide I want it…’

Because she was already on edge, that, ‘If…I want it’ seemed to catch of Saffron’s raw nerves.

‘Is that really what life’s about—getting what you want?’

‘Isn’t it?’ He questioned coolly. ‘I think if you asked the majority of people they’d say that most of their days are spent dreaming of something they want—trying to obtain it. I’m not unusual in that—only in that perhaps I know more clearly than most what I do want, and that when I see what I want, I go for it. I make sure nothing stands in the way of my getting it.’

The way he looked straight into her eyes as he spoke, a curl at the corner of his mouth, made Saffron think uncomfortably of his words that morning. ‘You’re exactly what I’ve been looking for——’

‘And what if, when you’ve got your hands on whatever it is, it turns out not to be so desirable after all?’

His smile mocked her indignation, almost as if he knew the thoughts that were in her mind. ‘Oh, then I’d just turn and walk away.’

‘No backward glances?’

‘Looking back is just a waste of time. If you want to make any progress, the only way is forward.’

She wished he would look away from her, turn the silvery force of those pale eyes on someone else. They might have started out talking about Owen’s company and, ostensibly, to anyone not in the know, it might appear that they were still discussing just that, but Saffron was hypersensitive to the dangerous undercurrents in the atmosphere around her, uncomfortably aware of the other possible interpretation of Niall’s words.

‘And does that apply to emotional matters as well as business deals?’

She felt she didn’t need to ask the question, already anticipating what the answer would be.

‘So far I’ve never encountered anything that I couldn’t resist or leave behind with no regrets.’

‘Anything or anyone?’

Niall’s only response was a slight inclination of his dark head, but a worrying gleam in those silvery eyes made her decide that it would be much safer to move the talk back on to the original topic.

‘And do you think you’ll want Richards’ Rockets?’

As she had hoped, the question brought Owen back into the conversation and she was able to withdraw, sit back and watch as once more the two men became absorbed in their discussion.

The problem was that she didn’t experience the relief she had hoped for. Only moments before she had wanted Niall Forrester to turn his attention elsewhere and leave her in peace, but now that he had, perversely, she felt irritated by the ease with which he seemed able to dismiss her from his thoughts. The chocolate torte which the waiter had brought her, together with another bottle of wine, now seemed much too rich for her taste, and she laid her spoon down, painfully aware of the fact that there was really nothing wrong with the sweet, only with her mood.

She couldn’t stop her gaze from lingering on the man opposite, on the sculpted planes of his face, shadowed softly in the flickering candlelight, on the jet darkness of his hair, the unexpected softness of his mouth. Her eyes followed every gesture of his hands as he ate, talked, poured the wine. Those pale grey eyes of his were turned away from her now, but in her mind she could see them in all the changeable moods that, even after such a short acquaintance, she could recognise—the cold, steely glitter that could turn so swiftly to the warm glow of polished silver, or darken with something she couldn’t—or didn’t dare—put a name to.

‘Is there something wrong with your food?’

‘What?’

Niall’s voice had been soft and low, but even so the sound of it jolted Saffron from the sensual trance that had held her. It was as if the gentle warmth of the candleflames had spread throughout the room, growing in intensity, heating the blood in her veins so that she felt as if she was adrift on a golden, glowing tide, the sight and sounds of the other diners fading to a blur on the edges of her consciousness, every nerve, every sense centring on Niall Forrester, like a compass needle drawn irresistibly to the North.

‘I’ll send it back if it’s not right——’

Oh, no—no, it’s fine.’

I’ll send it back, she noted resentfully. Niall Forrester had well and truly taken over the evening.

‘It’s just—that I haven’t as much appetite as I thought.’

For food only, a rogue part of her mind commented. Other appetites were not so easily appeased. In fact, with those silvery eyes on her once more, the way he was leaning towards her bringing him so close that she caught the scent of some musky cologne he wore, she felt as if every inch of her skin was newly sensitised, and a previously unknown sensation was uncoiling in the pit of her stomach, as if some sensuous snake-like creature had been sleeping heavily but was now starting to awake…

‘Eyes too big for my stomach!’ she managed on a shaky laugh.

‘Then perhaps we should think about leaving.’

Was she being unduly sensitive? Saffron wondered. Or was it just his physical position, the concentration of his attention on her, that seemed to make that ‘we’ exclude Owen, who, having tackled a large portion of his favourite Black Forest gateau, was now draining the last of his wine?

‘Yes,’ he said on a sigh of satisfaction. ‘Better be going. Waiter!’

‘Let me——’ Once more Niall took charge, catching

the waiter’s eye with an ease that made the other man’s waving hand look gauche and unsophisticated. In fact, it was rather over the top, even for Owen, Saffron reflected, her attention caught suddenly.

‘Most gracious of you——’

It was the first couple of words, with the hint of slurring, that alerted her, making her turn a concerned frown on him, to see his flushed face and overbright eyes. Her fears were confirmed as Owen got to his feet unsteadily, swaying and clutching at the table for support.

‘Owen—you’re drunk!’

‘Not at all!’ He gave a foolish grin. ‘Just a bit mellow.’

‘But you’re not fit to drive!’ She thought despairingly of the long journey home, the lack of buses, the prohibitive cost of a taxi.

‘Perhaps I could help?’

Did this man have ears like a bat? Her conversation with Owen had been conducted in a furious whisper, while he was occupied with the waiter and his credit card, but he was still very much aware of what was happening.

‘I have my car here—I could take you both home.’

‘But—didn’t you——?’

Anticipating her question, Niall shook his dark head. ‘I’m well under the limit—you’ll be perfectly safe.’

And, looking into those clear grey eyes Saffron knew that he spoke the absolute truth. He had been decidedly abstemious, she recalled. If only Owen had been equally restrained!

‘I can drive!’ Owen protested.

‘I don’t think so!’ Niall’s voice was warm with humour, and he moved swiftly to support the other man as he lurched clumsily away from the table. ‘Come on, mate—this way——’

Owen was more intoxicated than Saffron had first realised, and in the first flurry of activity involved in getting him out of the restaurant, across the courtyard and into Niall’s car—the same sleek, grey vehicle that she had seen in the factory car park—she had little time to think of anything beyond a strong sense of gratitude for Niall’s calm, helpful presence.

She doubted that she would have been able to cope without him, without his physical strength to support Owen’s unsteady progress, the amused but firm tact with which he distracted the other man from his determination to drive home, and the final intuitive sensitivity he showed in personally supervising Owen’s delivery into the care of his disapproving mother, enabling Saffron to remain in the car and out of sight. She was well aware of just what Mrs Richards would think if she knew of her presence.

‘At last!‘ Niall exclaimed, sliding back into the driving-seat and pushing both hands through his hair with a sigh of relief. ‘I thought we’d never get rid of him.’

‘Thanks for seeing him to the door for me. If Ma Richards had realised I was with him she’d have blamed me for the state he’s in.’

‘She wouldn’t believe him capable of getting that way by himself?’ Niall slanted a quizzical glance in her direction as he turned the key in the ignition, bringing the powerful engine to swift, purring life.

‘Her precious Owen?’ Saffron assumed an expression of exaggerated horror. ‘Not on your life! He can do no wrong—except for the fact that he’s seeing me. Mrs Richards has never really liked me—she doesn’t think I’m quite good enough for her only child. As a matter of fact,’ she added, impelled by scrupulous honesty, ‘he’s never really been quite so silly before.’

‘No?’ Niall sounded unconvinced and dismissively uninterested. ‘Where to now? Where do you liveSaffron?’

But Saffron’s sudden silence was not because she hadn’t heard his question. Instead she had been struck by something in his tone, something distinctly cagey and with a dark note that made her nerves twist in sudden apprehension. As the sleek car pulled away from the kerb she heard again in her thoughts that expressive, ‘At last!’ and found herself looking back at the evening with fresh eyes, seeing belatedly how Niall had kept Owen’s attention, picturing him chatting easily, summoning the waiter, ordering wine—refilling the other man’s glass…

Suddenly she was sitting upright in her seat, her body taut with indignation, rejection, and something very close to fear.

‘It was you!’

Niall didn’t try to deny the accusation. He didn’t even bother to ask exactly what she meant, but simply turned and gave her a swift, unrevealing smile before apparently concentrating his attention on the road ahead.

‘It was you! You got Owen drunk quite deliberately! You poured him all that wine——’

‘No one forced him to drink it,’ Niall put in, his carefully reasonable tone only incensing her further. ‘I didn’t exactly pour the damn stuff down his throat.’

‘You might just as well have done! Owen doesn’t get presented with that sort of vintage every day of his life—certainly not in such quantities! And you know perfectly well that he wouldn’t have wanted to offend you by refusing.’

‘I’d have thought better of him if he had,’ Niall commented drily, but Saffron wasn’t listening. Her mind had gone into overdrive, whirling frantically as she tried to see just what this meant to her—because she was suddenly uncomfortably certain that Niall Forrester hadn’t got Owen drunk just for his own twisted amusement.

‘You knew that I was concerned! I said that I needed Owen to drive me home, and yet you continued to ply him with wine——’

But he had accepted her own refusal to drink any more with perfect equanimity.

‘Why——?’ she began, her strangled tone revealing that she already suspected what his answer was going to be, and didn’t like it at all. ‘Why?’

Niall turned another of those mocking, knowing smiles on her, his face half-shadowed and eerie in the light of the streetlamps.

‘Oh, come on, Saffron,’ he reproved gently. ‘You don’t need to ask that. You know exactly what I had planned. I had to get Owen out of the way because I wanted to be alone with you. But of course you knew that, because, after all, it was just what you wanted too.’

‘I wanted——’ Saffron choked on the words in her haste to get out an indignant refutal. ‘I wanted no such thing!’

‘Oh, but you did, sweetheart. I’m not blind. I could see it—read it in your face. It was there in the way you couldn’t take your eyes off me, the way you tried to play it oh, so cool and failed miserably—the way you snapped when I spoke to you but sulked when I turned my attention away.’

‘You arrogant pig!’

The knowledge that she was using her anger as a defence against his accusations made her tone even more aggressive than she had intended. The problem was that she couldn’t deny the facts—but it was the interpretation he had put on them that was so infuriating.

Or was it? When her own mind played traitor, flinging at her a series of sensual images, reminding her of the effect Niall had had on her, that sensation of something awakening deep inside, she was forced to doubt her own conviction. Was that what he had seen in her face? She was grateful for the shadows that hid the rush of hot colour into her face at the thought.

‘It wasn’t like that,’ she muttered, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

‘No? Seemed that way to me. Enough to make me want to test out the theory, anyway. And as young Mr Richards was something of an obstacle to that I—provided him with an excuse to leave us alone at the earliest possible opportunity. I think he enjoyed the experience, and there won’t be too much embarrassment on his part.’

‘On his part!’ Saffron exploded. ‘Owen wasn’t the only one who was manipulated! How the hell do you think I feel? What about my embarrassment? Or don’t my feelings count for anything in all this?’

For a long, intent second Niall took his eyes off the road and subjected her furious face to a sharply assessing scrutiny that made her skin crawl in response.

‘On the contrary, it was your feelings I was considering.’

‘My feelings! You decide that you know what I want, without so much as consulting me, deliberately get my boyfriend drunk so that I end up alone with you, whether I like it or not, and then you have the nerve to say you were considering my feelings! Consideration doesn’t come into it! Pure, arrogant selfishness is more like it!’

‘Oh, come on, honey!’ Niall wasn’t in the least bit rattled by her outburst. ‘You know I made things easier for you. It would have been embarrassing, to say the least——’ with silky deliberation he emphasised the word she had flung at him so angrily ‘—to have had to say to your boyfriend, “Look, I know I came with you, but I’m leaving with someone else.” Don’t you think?’

As Saffron’s mouth actually gaped in shock, the knowledge of the fact that she no longer wanted to continue seeing Owen depriving her of the ability to form any angry retort, he continued smoothly, ‘Especially if he’d paid for your dinner—so I took care of that too.’

‘And you think that for the price of one meal you’ve bought me! That isn’t so much Old Man as positively barbaric! What are you? Some sort of primitive Neanderthal?’

‘At the moment, what I am is hopelessly lost,’ Niall stunned her by replying. ‘How about getting down off your high-horse and giving me directions?’

‘Directions?’ Thoroughly confused by the change of subject, and bewildered by the teasing note that had suddenly appeared in his voice, Saffron could only stare blankly. ‘To where?’

‘To your home, of course.’ The patient resignation that shaded his tone riled her further. ‘I did say I would drive you back, so if you’ll just tell me which road——’

No! The word screamed inside Saffron’s head, cutting through the whirl of confusion and anger like a cold metal blade, so that suddenly she could think again, her short-circuited brain-cells beginning to make connections—and the link she could see between her own comment about buying her for the cost of a dinner and his insulting, ‘If you’ll just tell me your terms…’ of earlier that day, made her blood boil.

‘I’m not going anywhere with you! Stop the car! Damn you—I said stop!’