Читать книгу Defying The Billionaire's Command - Michelle Conder, Michelle Conder - Страница 9
ОглавлениеDARE PACED BACK and forth in what he surmised was a parlour room inside the grand house. He’d never been particularly good at cooling his heels and finding his grandfather out when he’d first arrived had turned an already grim mood further south. Two hours later it was fair to say it had hit rock bottom. He wondered if it was a tactical move on his grandfather’s behalf because Dare had presumed to turn up unannounced a day earlier than he was expected.
Glancing around the elegant room, he took in the heavily oak-panelled walls dating back to the sixteenth century. Like the bedroom he’d been shown to earlier to ‘freshen up’—which had most likely been code for ditching his leathers—the antique furniture was graceful and well-appointed. Given the state of the rest of the house and grounds that Dare had seen, he surmised that money wasn’t behind the old man’s invitation to his mother. Which left the possibility that he was ill and/or dying.
The thought didn’t stir an ounce of emotion in Dare at all. But the line of oil paintings mounted high on the walls? They were most likely his ancestors, he thought with distaste, and they gave him the creeps. He steeled himself against the unexpected need to search out a likeness. He was nothing like these people and never would be.
It was hard to imagine his mother running around here as a child. The place might be majestic and steeped in history, but it was completely devoid of laughter and lightness. And so alien to his own impoverished upbringing. Not that the wealth of the place bothered him. He could buy it a thousand times over if he wanted to.
He checked his watch, impatient to meet the old man who had unsettled his mother’s world once more. And his own, if the truth be told.
‘I apologise for keeping you waiting, sir.’ The butler who had shown him to his room earlier tipped his head as he stepped into the parlour.
Dare smiled at the man’s cordiality, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Fed up with waiting in his room like a good little schoolboy, Dare had prowled around the house on his own, finally being shown into this room by one of the servants.
‘Forget it,’ Dare said. His quarrel wasn’t with the butler so why make his life harder by being a jerk?
‘May I fix you a pre-dinner drink, sir?’
Dare turned away from a life-sized oil painting of a man in a bad wig. ‘Scotch. Thank you.’
He had no intention of staying for dinner but the butler didn’t need to know that either.
Dare gazed around at the book-lined walls, softly lit lamps, and matching damask sofas. A tartan throw rug caught his eye, the mix of autumn colours reminding him of the pool girl’s glorious mane of hair. She’d been absolutely beautiful, wild and pagan with that long, unbound mane splayed out against the bright green grass, and then she’d opened her eyes and he’d been jolted by the greyish-green hue that reminded him of the Spanish moss that grew on many of the trees back home. The combination was startling. Then there was her skin that had been creamy and, oh, so inviting to touch.
She had reminded him of the angel he and his mother used to place on top of their Christmas tree when he was a child. Her temper, though, had definitely not been angelic and his lips quirked as he recalled how her eyes had shot sparks at him whenever he’d riled her.
Something about her had made him want to get her all hot and bothered, even when she’d insulted him. Not that he had any time for the pool girl, he reminded himself. But still...he had no doubt as to how good those sweet curves of hers would have felt in his arms.
Catching the ludicrousness of his thoughts, Dare gave himself a mental slap-down. He was thirty-two years old, long past the age of mentally drooling about how a woman would feel in his arms. How she would taste on his lips. How he might find her once this business with his grandfather was done.
He took a swig of his drink. He was long past the age of chasing after women as well. Not that he’d ever had to do much of that. He’d always been good with his hands and had a strong attention to detail and the women had loved him for it. True, they often complained that he put work ahead of them, but he’d never claimed to be perfect.
He wondered yet again who had given the pool girl the expensive bauble she’d been so afraid she’d lost. No doubt a lover, but who? His grandfather? He nearly sprayed his Scotch at the thought. As if a gorgeous woman like that would have anything to do with a decrepit, old man.
A light sound outside the door caught his attention and he looked up as a white-haired, elegantly dressed gentleman entered the room.
Finally...
Dare took his grandfather all in at once. The tall build and broad shoulders, the lined face that was both proud and strong. He’d somehow expected his grandfather to look frail and sick and the fact that he didn’t was as irritating to him as his thoughts about the redhead.
Both men took a moment to appraise the other, Dare giving nothing away beneath the old man’s regard.
Let him look, he thought, and let him understand that I am not the weak man my father was. I don’t run from my responsibilities.
‘Dare.’ His grandfather said his name with an air of familiarity that rankled. ‘I’m so very pleased to meet you at last. Please forgive my absence when you first arrived. I would have rearranged my afternoon plans had I known you were arriving earlier.’
Dare didn’t respond. He had no intention of pretending any form of civility with this man who had thrown his mother out all those years ago.
His mouth tightened, his attention drawn to a subtle movement behind the old man. When he saw it was the pool girl it took all his effort to keep his expression implacable.
His eyes moved down the length of her. The wild, pagan angel was nowhere in sight. In her place stood a very regal, very sophisticated young woman in a simple knee-length black dress and high heels, her rich red hair swept back into a tight knot at the base of her skull. Not many women could wear a hairdo that severe. She could.
Her moss-green eyes returned his regard coolly and a muscle jumped in his jaw. She wasn’t the pool girl, that was for sure, which left the only other conclusion he had arrived at front and centre in his mind.
But surely not...
His grandfather turned to acknowledge her presence, his hand hovering at the small of her back as he guided her forward. ‘Please allow me to introduce you to Carly Evans. Carly, this is my grandson, Dare James.’
She gave his grandfather a quizzical glance and Dare’s jaw clenched at the unspoken communication between the two.
But surely yes...
This was definitely his grandfather’s mystery guest.
He could barely believe it was true. He was so caught off guard he nearly missed the way her eyes dropped nervously from his as she stepped forward to greet him. ‘Mr James.’ Her smile was a little tremulous and he was somehow gratified by her nervousness. He bet she wouldn’t insult him now. ‘I’m pleased to meet you.’
God, she really was stunning and he didn’t like the jolt of adrenaline that coursed through his blood at the sight of her. ‘Ms Evans, it’s a delight to see you again.’
Her eyes cut back to his with surprise. So she hadn’t told his grandfather about their meeting. How very interesting.
‘You’ve already met?’ Surprise crossed his grandfather’s craggy features as well and Dare was glad he wasn’t the only one in the room who was thrown off course here.
‘We ah...met earlier,’ the goddess hedged, her face blushing prettily. ‘I didn’t realise he was your grandson at the time. For some reason I thought he’d be younger. And English instead of American.’
There was only one reason a beautiful young woman would be sleeping with an old man like his grandfather and it left a sour taste in Dare’s mouth.
He remembered one time at Harvard when a woman had been playing both he and his room-mate at the same time. They’d both ditched her as soon as they found out. Dare had laughed that she’d wanted Liam for his money and Dare for his sexual prowess. Then they’d spent hours over beers arguing the point and debating the morality of women on the make.
No need to debate this woman’s morality. It was staring him in the face. Or rather gazing adoringly at his grandfather.
‘Perhaps you would have been a little nicer if you had known who I was,’ he suggested, wanting to ruffle her smooth feathers as she had ruffled his.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘I wasn’t rude.’
Dare’s brow rose. ‘You were hardly welcoming, if I recall.’
‘You nearly ran me down.’
‘Ran you down?’ His grandfather’s brow furrowed with concern.
‘I got a fright when I didn’t hear the motorcycle...it was nothing,’ she assured him gently.
‘Then why bring it up?’ Dare asked pleasantly.
She frowned at him. ‘I didn’t. You did.’
‘Carly, are you sure you’re okay?’ His grandfather’s concern was like an annoying splinter under the skin.
‘Absolutely. Gregory broke his leash again and when I went to get him I wasn’t concentrating well enough.’
‘A woman who admits fault; be still my beating heart,’ Dare mocked softly.
She shot him a fiery look that left scorch marks across the silk rug between them. Dare smiled and watched, transfixed as she collected herself and reinstated her sophisticated façade. The transformation was quite something to behold.
‘I apologise if you thought I was in any way rude, Mr James,’ she said, as if a poker were rammed up her delectable backside. ‘It was not my intention.’
Not now that she knew who he was, anyway. She wouldn’t want to do anything to unsettle her gravy train.
‘Is that right?’ he said smoothly.
Her face coloured again and her little chin went up at the challenging note in his voice.
He trapped her gaze with his. Don’t mess with me, my little beauty, he silently warned. You’ll lose.
She blinked as if to say she had no idea what he was on about and he nearly applauded her for her acting skills.
Instead he dismissed her and set his chilly gaze on his grandfather. ‘Why is she here?’
His grandfather shifted uncomfortably. ‘Carly and I have taken to having a drink before dinner and as I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow I invited her to join us. I hope you don’t mind.’
For reasons he didn’t want to examine, Dare did. Very much. ‘And if I do?’ He asked, sipping his Scotch.
His deceptively amiable question froze the cool smile on Carly’s face.
His grandfather frowned. ‘Carly is...well, she’s a guest of mine,’ he finished lamely.
‘How nice for you.’ Dare ran his hand over the length of the tartan rug, noting the frown on Carly Evans’s face as he did so.
‘I can go.’ She moistened her lips with a nervous flicker of her pink tongue. ‘I don’t mind, really—’
‘Stay,’ Dare said, rethinking his position. It might actually be better to have her around to get a full picture of what was going on.
Her eyes darkened infinitesimally at the command. She obviously liked to be the one in charge.
So did he.
His grandfather cleared his throat to cut through the awkward silence and Dare watched him move to the drinks trolley. ‘Cointreau on ice, Carly?’
‘No, thank you,’ she husked, moving forward. ‘I’ll just have water but, here, let me get it. You sit down.’
The lady had expensive taste, Dare thought, but then he knew that from the ruby necklace, which was markedly absent. In fact she wasn’t wearing any jewellery to speak of. Had she not had time to put it on?
He watched as she fixed her own drink and poured tonic water for Benson without having to ask what he would like. How very comfortable it all was. The nubile, young woman playing up to the doddery old rich fool no doubt hoping he’d kick the bucket soon. Dare couldn’t help but acknowledge that he was disappointed. He’d somehow felt she had more substance to her.
Yeah, right. Substance. Was that what he was calling lust these days?
Nothing like a cold shot of reality to kill that bird dead.
He glanced at her ring finger. No diamond rock there. Obviously she still had some work to do yet.
He felt something primitive unfurl inside him. Something dark and dangerous. Disgust, he told himself. Every one of his senses had gone on high alert as soon as she had entered the room and he didn’t like it that he was so aware of her as a woman. Not when she was screwing his grandfather.
Just the thought of the two of them intimate made his stomach turn. Could a man even get it up at that age? A cynical smile touched the corner of Dare’s mouth. He certainly hoped so.
But he wasn’t here to think about his grandfather’s sordid sex life, he reminded himself. He was here to find out why Benson had contacted his mother, and he wouldn’t let himself get sidetracked by this wide-eyed mistress again.
‘As pleasant as this is,’ Dare mocked, facing off against his grandfather, ‘what I want to know is why you contacted my mother.’
A heavy silence followed his lethally soft words and it sent a chill down Carly’s spine.
When Benson had informed her that his grandson would be joining them for drinks Carly had thought he had meant Beckett, and she’d been pleased that she would be able to return his necklace to him and not have to worry about losing it.
Now she wished that it had been Beckett, because she had no idea how to deal with this arrogant American’s barely veiled hostility. She especially had no idea how to deal with the way her insides jolted with nervous heat every time he trained his piercing blue eyes on her.
The Baron inclined his head towards his grandson, a small sigh escaping past his lips. ‘I didn’t imagine this would be easy.’
Carly noted the aggressive stance in the younger man. He might now only be wearing faded denim jeans and a white T-shirt but he looked no less intimidating for it. In fact he looked even more so because now she could see that he was as leanly muscled as she had first imagined. And with black biker boots on his feet...
‘What did you imagine it would be?’ Dare asked the Baron with cold disdain.
‘Difficult,’ he acknowledged wryly.
‘Glad to see you’re a realist.’ His gaze homed in on the Baron like a shooter lining up a clay pigeon. ‘At first I thought you needed money but given the appearance of the place I’ve discounted that. Which leaves the possibility that you’re sick or dying. Not that you look it.’
A gasp escaped Carly before she could contain it. ‘That is so rude,’ she admonished, welcoming the bite of her temper in replace of her previous uncertainty.
Dare’s lethal gaze swung to hers, pinning her to the spot. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly, ‘what made you think I was talking to you?’
Oh! Carly refused to let him intimidate her. The Baron was her patient and it was her job to make sure he was well enough to undergo surgery to remove a brain tumour the size of a golf ball in two weeks’ time. He needed rest and relaxation, not animosity and outright aggression.
She would probably be able to add heart attack to his list of ailments if his grandson continued on in this vein.
‘You shouldn’t speak to anyone like that!’ she reproved.
‘It’s all right, Carly.’ The Baron patted her hand. ‘Dare has a right to feel angry. And from what I understand my grandson has a reputation for being ruthless, powerful, and relentless when he wants something.’ He listed the traits as if they were trophies to be shown off on a mantel, Carly thought with disgust. ‘It actually pleases me that he feels the need to defend Rachel.’
Carly tried to accept the Baron’s version of things. Rachel, she knew, was Dare’s mother, but other than that she didn’t know anything about their history.
Fortunately the butler chose that moment to enter quietly and announce that dinner was ready to be served.
‘Very good, Roberts.’ The Baron smiled, but Carly could see it was strained. ‘Dare, I was hoping that you might join us for the evening meal.’
Carly couldn’t believe he was extending an invitation, given the level of disrespect he had been shown.
‘I hadn’t intended to,’ Dare said coldly, and Carly felt her shoulders relax slightly as he declined. ‘But if it’s okay with Miss Evans perhaps I will.’
If it was okay with her? Carly’s spine snapped straight. Why would he put this on her?
‘Of course it’s all right with me,’ she said, too brightly.
‘Very good.’ She felt the Baron’s relief as he exhaled. ‘Shall we adjourn to the dining room? I, for one, am very eager to find out what Mrs Carlisle has prepared in your honour, Dare, and I do so enjoy eating my food without indigestion. Roberts, if you would be so kind as to set another place at the table?’
‘Very good, sir.’
For a moment Carly thought—hoped—that Dare was going to change his mind, but then he shrugged.
‘I haven’t eaten anything decent since breakfast. Lead the way, old man.’
She felt the Baron tense as he cupped her elbow and she wanted to strangle Dare James with her bare hands. She was quite sure that whatever bad blood was between these men it didn’t warrant this level of disrespect.
Reminding herself that it really wasn’t any of her business, and that she was here for the Baron and the Baron alone, Carly let him lead her out of the room, acutely aware of Dare’s cold eyes on her as she moved past.
She was infinitely glad that she’d taken the time with her appearance before dinner. And she told herself that she hadn’t done so on the off chance that she’d run into this horrible stranger again...she’d done it because...yes, okay, she had wondered if she’d run into him in passing and she’d somehow felt that she’d need armour if she did. Well, she’d certainly got that right. And she had no idea how she was going to make it through a whole dinner if the Baron’s grandson didn’t start playing nice.
‘You’ve done well for yourself, Dare,’ the Baron said as they were all seated at the large dining table.
‘Unlike my loser father, you mean?’
The Baron sighed. ‘I didn’t mean to sound as if I was passing judgment.’ He moved aside as a plate was placed in front of him. ‘Though you do seem to have inherited your father’s acerbic wit.’
Score one for the older gentleman, Carly thought, completely disconcerted when she glanced across the table to find Dare staring at her.
‘That’s not all I inherited,’ Dare bit out tautly.
‘Duck à l’orange,’ the Baron said, inhaling the fragrance as the servant stepped back. ‘My favourite.’
Carly gave him a secret smile. ‘I do relent sometimes,’ she teased.
‘This is all very nice,’ Dare bit out, not hiding the fact that he didn’t think it was nice at all. ‘But I didn’t come here to discuss food or to make small talk.’
Tension crossed the table like laser beams.
‘I can see that,’ the Baron said. He put down his fork. ‘What did you come for, Dare? To put me in my place?’
‘It’s no less than you deserve.’
‘I’m not going to argue with you about that,’ Benson said quietly, ‘but you have to understand I’ve only recently become abridged of your father’s death. And of the fact that Rachel must have struggled for years afterwards. That she even had a child. You!’
‘And you think that entitles you to contact her?’ Dare said with barely leashed fury. ‘You rejected her. You kicked her out when she chose my father over your archaic expectations. But she doesn’t need you now. She’s doing fine.’
‘Thanks to you,’ Benson acknowledged softly.
‘My mother is a strong woman with high morals. She would have made it fine without me.’
Completely shocked by Dare’s revelations, Carly felt like an interloper with no idea how to ease the tension between the two men.
‘Perhaps we should save this conversation for when we’re alone.’ The Baron touched Carly’s hand as he spoke and she realised she had a forkful of food held halfway to her mouth. ‘There’s no need to ruin Carly’s appetite, hmm?’
‘But it was okay to ruin my mother’s life?’ Dare’s gaze was harsh when it landed on her again and her heart thumped behind her breastbone. ‘By all means.’ He stabbed a morsel of food on his plate. ‘Let’s not upset the lovely Carly. Tell me, Miss Evans, how long have you known my grandfather?’
Clearing her throat, and glad for the opportunity to turn the conversation away from the Baron in case it ratcheted up his blood pressure, Carly smiled politely. ‘A few months now.’ She had met Benson at a nearby clinic when he’d first presented with breathing problems and when he’d learned she was temping he’d requested her services.
‘And when did you move in?’
Distracted by his mesmerising blue eyes, she took a sip of her sparkling wine. ‘Three weeks ago. I...’ She stopped, realising that she was about to reveal the reason for her stay. ‘I—’
‘I know of Carly’s family,’ Benson cut in to save her. ‘A happy coincidence really. Our ancestors fought together against the Jacobite Rebellion in 1715. Carly is the relative of a famous viscount.’
Dare curled his lip as if he couldn’t have cared if she were directly in line to the throne. And her heritage hardly counted when she was the distant cousin of a cousin, and her family had lived a very humble existence for well over a century now.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ Roberts said, approaching Benson. ‘A phone call has come through. I think you’ll want to take it.’
‘Fine, Roberts. Thank you.’
Looking irritated at the interruption, Benson pushed to his feet and took the hands-free phone proffered by the butler. He frowned in Carly and Dare’s direction. ‘I apologise for this interruption.’
As soon as the door closed behind him Carly was acutely aware of the antique clock ticking away in the corner of the room and the lean, powerful male regarding her across the table.
Dare James was too big, too sure of himself, and too arrogant for her liking. Oh, he didn’t exactly have Daniel’s air of cultured superiority over others—something she hadn’t noticed until Daniel had well and truly humiliated her—no, Dare’s was more a latent power that drew the eye and let everyone around him know that he was in charge. Which was just as bad.
The T-shirt he wore did little to contain the bulge in his biceps and he looked as if he had the strength to rip a giant oak out of the ground and snap it in half. Right now he looked as if he wanted to snap her in half.
A shiver raced down her spine at the memory of those large hands skimming over her, leaving her hot and bothered. She’d attributed her earlier physical response to the heat of the day and her worry over Gregory muddling her senses. Now she knew that it was her feminine instincts signalling danger with capital letters and she was listening. This time, she was definitely listening.
‘More wine, Miss Evans?’
Carly regarded him warily as he picked up the wine bottle. As tempted as she was to settle her sudden nervousness with more alcohol, Carly knew drinking any more would put her at a disadvantage with this man. ‘No, thank you.’ She cleared her throat, searching around her frazzled mind for something to say. ‘So, is this your first time at Rothmeyer House?’ she asked.
‘You mean you don’t know?’
‘No,’ she said politely, her mind still absorbing what she had heard about his family history. ‘Should I?’
Dare watched her nibble on the corner of her lower lip and he almost felt sorry for her. Then he remembered why she was even here and felt like snarling. ‘I would have thought so.’
‘I can’t imagine why.’
‘So sweet,’ he murmured, wondering if her lips would feel as soft as they looked.
She frowned. ‘I can see that you’re very upset with your grandfather but do you really think that coming over all macho and being aggressive is going to help the situation?’
‘Oh, good,’ he said. ‘We finally get to the part of the evening where we give up pretending we have to be polite to each other.’
Carly stared at him in shocked silence and Dare nearly laughed. What did she expect? That he would welcome his grandfather’s innocent little mistress into his life with open arms? Not likely.
‘I wasn’t aware that you had been polite,’ she mocked. ‘I must have missed that brief moment in time.’
Dare laughed. ‘You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.’
She frowned at him. ‘Is this because I ran out in front of you on the road?’ she asked. Her expression so sweetly confused he found himself wanting to be taken in by her.
‘Try again,’ he said, calling himself a fool.
‘Try again?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to try again. I have no idea why you’re being so hostile towards me.’
‘You think I’m hostile?’
He knew damned well he was being hostile, Carly thought. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she was usually the doctor others called on to deal with belligerent patients. ‘Yes, you’re being hostile,’ she said calmly.
‘On the contrary, I don’t think I’ve been hostile at all. But if it makes you feel better, then I’ll try to fix it.’
Carly let out a relieved breath. ‘Thank you.’ She gave him a shaky smile. ‘It’s just that your grandfather is very...tired at the moment.’
‘Oh, now that’s just showing off, Red.’
Showing off? Red? Carly’s teeth ground together at his mocking tone. ‘It’s a basic human kindness to be civil,’ she reminded him. ‘If he were a stranger on the street I’m sure you wouldn’t say the things you have.’
‘But he’s not a stranger on the street. He’s a wealthy old fool.’ He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘And while we’re on the subject, I have to commend you on your fast work. You must have some very special attributes to get in here in under a month.’
Carly frowned. If this was him trying to be less hostile he needed to go see someone about it. ‘What do you mean by fast work?’
‘The innocent confusion is good,’ he murmured. ‘It’s a real turn-on. But I’m quite sure you know that. Tell me, Miss Evans, do you like books?’
Carly blinked. ‘Books?’
‘Those things people used to read in print form, but now mostly download online.’
‘I believe they still print books, Mr James,’ she said, a glimmer of anger burning low in her stomach. ‘But, yes, I like to read.’
‘I’m being facetious, Red.’ He smiled easily. ‘I prefer non-fiction to fiction. You?’
Carly would prefer to be anywhere but having to look into his handsome face. ‘Both are good,’ she said warily, wondering where he was going with this.
‘Personally I’m too straightforward for fiction. I don’t like things that are made-up.’
‘Well, it depends on the author’s imagination,’ Carly said, pushing a strand of hair that had come loose from her bun back behind her ear.
‘Do you have a good one?’ He ran the tip of his index finger along the long stem of his wineglass.
‘Miss Evans?’
Carly blinked. ‘Book?’
‘Imagination?’
‘I... I like to think so, but I’m not an author. I couldn’t wri—’
‘Helen Garner is an author I admire.’
‘Who?’
‘I wouldn’t expect you to know who she is. She’s Australian. Very literary. I lived in Australia for a while when I was young. Did you know that?’
‘No.’ Carly glanced at the door wishing the Baron would hurry up and return. ‘Look, Mr James—’
‘Call me Dare.’
Carly let out a breath. ‘This is all very fascinating but—’
‘My mother discovered Ms Garner’s work first, but then I happened to study her at university.’
‘University?’ Her voice sounded shaky and she cleared it.
‘Keep up, Red.’ His smile was so phony she wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a deck of tarot cards and started reading her fortune. ‘A university is an institution one attends when they’re looking to better themselves.’
‘I know what a university is, Mr James,’ she said from between her teeth. ‘I’m just struggling to follow the conversation.’
‘Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. You have other great qualities that are far more important, but you know that, don’t you?’ His eyes held hers. ‘Are you sure you won’t have another drink? Benson’s pulled out all stops with the wine.’
As she realised that he had only been amusing himself at her expense Carly’s slowly simmering anger just met its point of ignition. ‘I’m trying to be pleasant here,’ she bit out.
Dare rose from his seat, wine bottle in hand. ‘Believe me, Red, so am I.’
Like hell. She glared at him. ‘Call me that name again and you won’t like the consequences.’
Many children had tried while she’d been growing up and they’d got the wrong end of her temper every time.
‘Is that a threat?’ he mocked.
Carly took a deep breath and told herself not to let him get to her. Then she didn’t care. ‘I don’t like what you’ve been implying,’ she said, facing him squarely. ‘Why not come right to the point if you’re so straightforward?’
He rounded the table and prowled towards her. Carly had to fight every bone in her body not to get up and run.
‘You picked up on that, huh?’
‘On your veiled animosity?’ She gave him a superior smile of her own. ‘Even a small child would have found it hard to miss.’
‘But then children are so perceptive. Do you want children, Red?’
He reached out and brushed the loose strand of her hair back behind her ear. Carly gasped, twisting in her seat to look up at him. ‘You don’t care if I want children or not,’ she said, distracted by the way her skin tingled where his fingers had grazed it.
‘Not really,’ he agreed affably, leaning on the back of her chair. ‘But if they’re on your agenda you might want to consider Benson’s age. He won’t exactly be pitching a football with the youngster in the backyard. Not that the backyard isn’t big enough. You made sure of that first, didn’t you?’
Carly would speak but she wasn’t sure she could pry her teeth apart to get words out.
If she wasn’t mistaken this Neolithic fool had just accused her of being his grandfather’s mistress. She wasn’t sure what she thought was worse. The fact that he believed her to have been intimate with a man nearly three times her age, or that he thought her a gold-digger.
Incensed beyond all reason, Carly tried to shove her chair back but found she couldn’t because he had effectively caged her by bracing his arms on either side of her chair, his palms flat on the tabletop.
‘Temper, temper, Red.’ His warm breath feathered across her ear. ‘What will Benson think if he comes back and finds you all riled up?’
‘Hopefully he’ll kick you out!’ She knew she’d said the wrong thing by the way his muscles bunched in his arms. Her earlier analogy with that tree came to mind and she swallowed heavily. But instead of breaking her in half he leaned closer.
‘I wanted to kiss you today, Red.’ She jumped as something gently brushed the side of her face. His nose? ‘Out there on that hot, dusty road.’
Carly struggled to swallow. ‘No,’ she said automatically.
‘Oh, yes.’
Carly jerked sideways as he inhaled her scent but that only pressed her up against the solid mass of his opposite shoulder, giving him access to the line of her neck. He was so close she felt enveloped by his heady, male warmth. ‘And you wanted to kiss me too.’
‘No!’ she denied, pulling herself together. ‘You’re a bigger fool than I first thought if you believe that.’ She gave a short, sharp laugh to reinforce her words.
He sniffed behind her ear. ‘You smell sweet.’
Every part of Carly froze except her pulse, which was racing. Was he about to kiss her? If he was...if he was she would...stop breathing.
‘I’m right is what I am,’ he murmured. ‘I think you’d like me to do it even now with the old man in the next room. Should we give him a show?’
Before she could pick up the water jug and dump its contents over his insolent head the door to the dining room swung open. Dare slowly straightened, picked up the wine bottle, and poured her wine as if that were all he’d been doing all along.
Hot colour swept over Carly’s face and she forced a smile to her lips.
‘So sorry for the interruption,’ Benson said, resuming his seat. ‘That was Beckett.’
‘How is he?’ Carly asked, her voice pitched just a little too high. Really she couldn’t care less about Beckett, but he was a safer topic than the man slowly making his way back to his seat as if nothing had just happened between them.
And nothing had, she reminded herself. He was taunting her, that was all, because he was a rude, callous individual with no manners whatsoever. What she wouldn’t give to wipe that superior smile off his face and tell him she’d rather kiss a snake. Only he was a snake, she thought venomously. It was unfair of him to include her in his bad feelings for his grandfather. Making assumptions about her out of hand.
If she had wanted to bring him down a peg or two earlier, she wanted to even more now. Especially as he sat slouched back in his chair, gazing at her as if he were the king of the world. Well, he wasn’t king of her world, and, oh, how she’d like to wipe that crooked grin from his face. He was enjoying her discomfort, damn him.
But to correct his nefarious assumptions would be to disclose her real reason for being here and she’d assured the Baron that she’d keep his secret for as long as he wanted to. And although she felt sure that Benson would be horrified at the conclusions his grandson had drawn she wasn’t going to bring them up now.
And perhaps it would be better to let the arrogant Dare James labour under his misapprehensions about her.
Let him hang himself with them. The embarrassment he would no doubt feel at being so wrong about her—and his grandfather—would keep a smile on her face for days.
Yes. She let out a slow breath. She was going to enjoy watching this arrogant stranger squirm when he found out that, not only was she not a greedy little gold-digger, but that she was probably more qualified than he was.
University... She raised her wineglass in the air and gave him a small toast. She knew all about university and before she was finished with him he would know that she was a woman to look out for. A woman who was not going to be cowed by a man like him ever again.
And as for wanting to kiss him? She couldn’t think of anything more revolting than having his smug mouth on hers.
She brought her glass to her lips, pleased with how steady and cool she felt, how detached. But then his gaze dropped to her mouth and her equilibrium wavered, all but disintegrating when the tip of his tongue came out to touch his bottom lip as if he was thinking about how she would taste.
It was a brief, subtle move but it set every one of her nerves on edge.
She had to force the cool liquid down past the lump in her throat without choking but she did it, and was pleased with herself until she realised that he was deliberately trying to put her off stride again. And it had worked. She now felt as if she were burning up from the inside out.
Damn him.
The man was beyond evil. He was a demon. The devil himself.
Fortunately the Baron chose that moment to break into their silent stand-off with a comment about the meal, which Carly had completely forgotten about.
She pushed the last of it around her plate as if her appetite hadn’t fled, but then she noticed how pale Benson looked and could have kicked herself.
Concerned, she forgot all about his obnoxious grandson and clasped Benson’s wrist. He gave her a wan smile, knowing that she was surreptitiously taking his pulse. One forty over eighty, at a guess. Not critical, but definitely too high for a man in his condition.
She gave him a warning squeeze. ‘I think you should call it a night,’ she advised softly. And she definitely wanted to. Anything to get away from the pointed glare of the man opposite her.
Dare watched the intimate little tableau play out before his eyes. The woman had no shame. No shame whatsoever, and his increasingly bad mood had nothing to do with the fact that he would like those slender fingers wrapped around a certain part of his anatomy, and where he was imagining was a long way from his wrist.
He didn’t know what had possessed him to taunt her the way that he had, but it had very nearly backfired when he’d got a whiff of her light scent.
He breathed in deeply. He was pretty sure it was only shampoo he had smelt, shampoo and woman, and his recall was so strong she might as well have been sitting right beside him. Or in his lap.
A muscle jumped in his jaw and he realised he was clenching his teeth hard enough to break them. It pained him greatly that his body hardened in anticipation every time he looked at her. And when she spoke; that lilting English accent...he’d lived on and off in the country for about a year and never noticed what a turn-on it was.
At times she sounded exactly like a reprimanding English schoolmarm and at others as if she’d just climbed out of bed after being satisfied over and over. Add in that firecracker temper and haughty attitude and it was all he could do not to haul her across the table and find out if all that fire and ice translated to passion between the sheets. Or, on the table, rather, given their location.
Dare wondered what his grandfather would think if he told him it would take little more than the crook of his finger to have his mistress in his own bed.
The thought made him sick. He wasn’t here for that. And he certainly wasn’t here to compete with the old man. Let him make a fool of himself over a woman if that was his wont. Dare never had before and he never would.
Especially not over a woman like this. One with such a low moral compass. Which was probably why it bothered him so much that he found her so attractive. He just didn’t understand it. He’d been exposed to a limitless amount of beautiful women since he’d reached puberty and even more since he’d made it rich. Women more beautiful than Carly Evans, and yet all evening he’d struggled to take his eyes off her.
Bottom line, he despised her for what she was and he despised himself for wanting her regardless.
‘Goodnight, Mr James.’
‘It’s Dare,’ he reminded her, holding out his hand even though he knew it would be a mistake to touch her again. He couldn’t help himself it seemed, his legendary self-control a distant memory in her presence.
She hesitated, glancing at his hand, and he nearly smiled for real when good manners—of which, yes, his had been in short supply that evening—determined that she must.
Immediately he raised it to his lips. ‘Sleep well.’ Or not, his eyes said.
Hers widened as if she read him loud and clear before giving him a dismissive little smile.
‘I’ll see you later,’ she murmured to Benson. ‘Don’t be too long.’
Eager little thing, Dare thought, his fist clenched beneath the tablecloth.
He watched her leave the room, the chandelier above the table lovingly catching the highlights in her hair, before he turned his gaze on the old man.
Benson raised a brow in question and Dare saw just how tired he looked. Whatever news he had just received on the phone it hadn’t been good. Not that he felt sorry for the old fool. He’d made his bed years ago and he could lie in it.
‘I’m glad you came a day earlier,’ Benson said, and Dare was quite sure he wasn’t glad at all. ‘It has given us a chance to air some grievances.’
Dare hadn’t even scratched the surface. ‘I won’t have my mother hurt.’
‘I get that. And I want you to know it’s not my intention to hurt her again.’
Dare didn’t say anything, just waited for him to continue.
When his grandfather sighed heavily Dare almost felt sorry for him. Almost. ‘Your mother is coming for lunch tomorrow. I take it that you’re staying.’
‘Will the lovely redhead be there?’
His grandfather frowned at his disparaging reference to his mistress. ‘Carly is a very nice young woman, Dare, she—’
‘Spare me your platitudes. I’m sure she’s wonderful.’
‘She is. And...yes, she’ll be at lunch tomorrow. Is that a problem?’
‘Not for me.’
Benson nodded. ‘Then I hope you will also accept my hospitality and stay the night.’
‘I hadn’t planned to.’ What he’d planned was to find a hotel room and get some distance from the claustrophobic element of this enormous place, check the Dow Jones, catch up on work, but... His eyes drifted unconsciously to the door Carly Evans had just disappeared through. Practically it made more sense to be on site.
‘I’ll stay,’ he said gruffly.
‘Good.’ Benson stood up. ‘Then, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you in the morning. Oh, and, Dare...’ the old man stopped beside his chair ‘... I understand your concerns. I made grievous mistakes thirty-three years ago. Mistakes I want to rectify.’
‘Why now?’
‘I have my reasons, reasons I’ll share with you when we have more time. For now just know that I’m not going to let my foolish pride stand in the way again.’
‘Just remember that I’ll be watching you every step of the way,’ Dare said softly. ‘And if you do anything to my mother to upset her, I’ll ruin you.’
