Sophisticated Seduction

‘So break your promise,’ he invited her impatiently.

Bridget’s eyes widened, and now she was the one searching his face, endeavouring to gauge his seriousness.

‘I can’t do that,’ she protested eventually.

‘Why not?’

‘Break a promise—’

‘Everyone else does,’ he cut in on a note of finality, as if that concluded the argument and he was now waiting for her to proceed.

‘Well, I don’t,’ Bridget snapped.

She wasn’t exactly shocked, but the extent of his cynicism dismayed her as she had never encountered it in such total, unrelenting form before.

‘I could make you, quite easily,’ he observed softly.

‘You’re unbelievable!’ The words were torn from her. ‘No wonder you’re only ever called Nicholas, never Nick or Nicky.’

‘What has that got to do with anything?’ Nicholas demanded irritably, and Bridget had to acknowledge privately that she didn’t really know what she had meant by it either. ‘And what are you getting so emotional for? Did you think I was threatening you? I merely commented to the effect that I could make you tell me the truth, but it’s only an option I’m keeping in reserve for the future. An even easier one is to find out what Anand Bhandari knows about all this.’

It would solve her problem if Mr Bhandari could tell him what he wanted to know, but Bridget wasn’t sure how much Virginia would have confided when she had been in touch to warn him to expect her. At least she didn’t have to break her promise quite yet, although she supposed she would be driven to it if Nicholas looked like hindering her business here unless she told him everything, because she was determined to make a success of the task Virginia had given her.

‘Virginia did say she might phone, so perhaps you’ll be able to talk to her yourself,’ she offered, hoping it might act as a curb to his impatience.

‘You can’t phone her yourself?’ he probed, accepting it without comment when she shook her head. ‘Is this your first time in India?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who’s in charge of you?’

‘In charge?’ Bridget stared at him in astonishment. ‘What do you mean? I’m here—’

‘Do you have a family back in England? Parents?’ he elaborated.

‘Of course…’ She wondered what he was getting at with his peremptory questions.

‘There’s no “of course” about it,’ he retorted, and she stirred contritely, recalling Virginia telling her that their parents, along with Loris’s, had all been killed together when Nicholas was eighteen. ‘So what are they doing, letting you loose on your own like this?’

Bridget’s chin lifted. ‘They know I can cope.’

‘But can you? You’re not out of your depth and homesick?’ He continued the interrogation relentlessly.

‘Of course not!’ She denied it vehemently, incipient indignation making her eyes sparkle.

‘Then what were you sobbing your eyes out for last night? It didn’t sound exactly like coping to me,’ he announced sardonically.

Bridget had coloured sensitively.

‘You could pretend you hadn’t heard,’ she suggested resentfully. ‘Any nice person would.’

‘I’m not nice.’

‘Tell me about it!’ She was scathing.

‘So what were you crying for if you’re coping so well?’

‘Something personal—private,’ she emphasised pointedly.

‘A broken heart, I suppose,’ he guessed disgustedly, lips curved in mockery, and Bridget wondered if the hot, angry emotion suddenly choking her could be classed as hatred.

‘What would you know about broken hearts?’ she challenged scornfully.

‘Not much,’ he admitted coolly. ‘But I do remember glancing through some of the magazines my sister used to read as a teenager, and there’d always be some girl writing to the problem page convinced that her life was over because the boy of her dreams hadn’t even looked at her at a party.’

‘This would be when you were vetting her reading matter, I suppose?’ It was rare for Bridget to lose her temper, but now she discovered how exhilarating a sensation it could be. ‘I suppose you did it with a fat black pencil in your hand, ready to delete anything undesirable! She told me how you’ve always interfered, managing everyone’s lives for them!’

‘Back then, Virginia’s life required a considerable amount of managing,’ he informed her edgily, his glittering eyes making her aware that she had succeeded in provoking him. ‘But censorship was not part of it. The more she knew, the better she’d get at handling her own life—as she does quite ably these days, which is why I do not believe your pathetic story about her having fallen in love. She’s not that stupid. So if I don’t get the truth from Bhandari you’re going to have to break whatever promise you made and give it to me yourself. Will you be here today or are you going out?’

‘It seems to me that you’re still trying to manage her life by insisting on knowing things that are her private business,’ Bridget taunted but, seeing the way his eyes blazed, she added swiftly, ‘I’ve got a meeting with a man who sells fabrics in Connaught Place. He’s going to put me in touch with his suppliers. Virginia told me she always shops around rather than relying on the same people every time. Also, Mr Bhandari’s wife is taking me to the Rajghat as there’s a ceremony in memory of Gandhi today.’

‘Oh, you’ve got Mirabai looking after you, then,’ he registered in a neutral tone, but Bridget still resented the implication that she needed looking after. ‘One more thing, Bridget. I don’t want you sneaking off to a hotel now I’m here and asking questions. Until I hear from my sister what this is all about, I want you here under this roof where I can keep an eye on you—or on her interests, rather. I’ll want reports on what you’re doing, too, as the Indian lines have always been her pride and joy, the focal point of her collections, and I won’t stand by and let you sabotage her reputation.’

Sheer rage was choking her at hearing her professionalism so openly doubted. ‘Virginia herself trained me!’

‘And now you’re off to do business on her behalf,’ he murmured amusedly, his mood suddenly dramatically altered as his gaze dropped briefly to the white top she wore, his unexpected smile so full of wicked charm that Bridget’s breath caught in her throat.

Then she glanced down and saw what had caused it.

‘Oh!’

She must have been so preoccupied with her plans for the day that she hadn’t paid any attention to what she was putting on, and the pink and white candy-stripes of her bra were clearly visible through the thin white cotton of the shirt.

‘Where are you going?’ he enquired innocently as she leapt to her feet.

‘To put a plain white bra on, of course,’ she answered bitingly.

‘I never said a word,’ he protested, still using that mock-innocent voice and still with that smile that hinted at an aspect of his personality less impatient and cynical than that which he had so far shown her. ‘But fleshcoloured would be better. It won’t show at all.’

‘Well, I haven’t got one!’ She always bypassed fleshcoloured when shopping because it seemed so utilitarian, attracted by the more prettily frivolous colours. ‘You would be an expert on women’s underwear!’

She heard him laughing at her as she stalked from the veranda into the house, and she thought tempestuously that she had never met anyone so vile in her life.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_89cc3f69-078c-5087-b3f0-822e581f536a)

‘You got my message, then?’ With a quick, raking glance for Bridget, Nicholas addressed Sita Menon, having found the two of them together in the cool, spacious kitchen on his return to the house that evening.

Bridget’s senses had given an odd little jump as he entered, and somehow the kitchen seemed smaller in response to the overwhelming vibrancy of his presence, as if he existed surrounded by an aura of energy that took up all the space around him.