Ice In His Veins

Eden’s mouth tightened, anger in her golden eyes. ‘As far as I’m concerned he’s my father. My real father gave up any right he had to expect anything from me when he divorced my mother and married Isobel Dean, and made no effort to see me after his remarriage.’

‘Perhaps he thought you would be better off with your mother,’ he pointed out reasonably.

‘Perhaps he did, and he was right. But that didn’t mean he had to give me up completely. The agreement was that he had access to me any time he wanted. I don’t ever remember seeing him, or my grandfather.’

‘But surely——’

‘There can be no excuse for what he did, Tim,’ she interrupted tightly. ‘And I despise my grandfather even more for the way he manipulated my father.’

‘I take it Jason is going to try and make you change your mind about seeing him.’

She shrugged. ‘He can try, although I don’t think he’ll bother. He’s already told me he’s only doing this as a favour to my grandfather.’

Tim started up the car, manoeuvring out into the traffic. ‘You have to admit this evening was quite funny in a way,’ he gave a wry chuckle.

‘I’m glad you think so!’ She tried to sound angry, but somehow the humour of the situation reached her too. ‘You should have seen his face when he saw I was your date! Although I must say he recovered from it well.’

‘He must have done, I didn’t notice anything was wrong.’

‘You wouldn’t with a man like him.’ She sobered, her dislike back in full force.

Tim gave her a searching glance. ‘Why don’t you like him? Is it because he’s going to marry Isobel Morton?’

‘If Isobel is anything like I think she is then he deserves her,’ Eden snapped. ‘But I dislike him because he’s arrogant, egotistical, superior in every way. He’s just everything I despise in a man. His relationship with your sister while he intends marrying another woman is enough to prove what sort of man he is. I’m sorry, Tim, but I just don’t like him. He’s too sure of himself and other people’s reaction to him.’

‘Including your own?’

‘My dislike doesn’t bother him, in fact, he probably enjoys it. He enjoys tormenting me, anyway,’ she grimaced.

‘Tormenting you?’ Tim repeated sharply.

‘Well, teasing me, then. Oh, let’s not talk about him any more, Tim. He depresses me.’

‘How’s your headache?’ asked Tim.

‘Gone,’ she blushed.

‘You didn’t really have one, did you?’

‘No,’ she admitted.

‘I didn’t think so.’

‘I don’t suppose they thought I had either. But if I’d stayed there with him much longer I might have resorted to actually hitting the man.’ She shrugged. ‘What does it matter, they wanted to be alone and so did we.’

Tim smiled. ‘It doesn’t matter to me. If I’m not going to see you tomorrow I’ll have to make the most of tonight.’

‘I don’t want to have dinner with him. I can’t see the point of it when I’ve already made up my mind.’

‘I don’t suppose it will hurt to listen to him.’

‘Probably not.’ She grinned. ‘I’ll get a nice dinner out of him anyway.’

Tim halted the car outside her parents’ house. ‘Can I come in for coffee?’

Eden got out on to the sidewalk. ‘You don’t normally need to be asked.’

‘Great,’ he smiled, locking the car.

Eden moved about the kitchen preparing their coffee, the staff having finished for the day. Her mother and Drew weren’t back yet, so she and Tim had the house to themselves. Tim came into the kitchen just as she was placing the pot of coffee on the tray.

‘What are you smiling at?’ she frowned her puzzlement as he stood watching her with a silly grin on his face.

He leant back against the refrigerator, his arms folded across his chest. ‘I love to see women working in the kitchen.’

‘Chauvinist!’ She carried the tray into the lounge, sitting down to pour their coffee.

‘Not at all.’ Tim accepted a cup of the steaming liquid. ‘I’ve never seen my mother or Claire in a kitchen. I find it very comforting.’

Eden sat back, tucking her legs up beneath her. ‘I don’t suppose your mother or sister have ever found it necessary to go into the kitchen, you have more servants than family in your house.’ Despite her family not being exactly in the poverty bracket themselves, Eden had been a little overwhelmed by the unpretentious show of wealth in Tim’s parents’ home.

Mrs Channing had welcomed her with all the gracious politeness that had been bred into her, but Eden had still felt out of her depth among such opulence. The Channing house was set among the rolling acres that made up their estate. Eden had felt her first sense of apprehension as Tim drove the car down the long driveway, the security of getting into the ranch-style house quite frightening.

Tim’s mother had fitted into the luxury of her background perfectly, coming as she did from an old Southern family. The silk dress was tailored to her slim figure, her grey hair perfectly coiffured, making Eden feel quite underdressed in her fitted lemon trousers and matching shirt. Although not by the flicker of an eyelid did Mrs Channing show that she approved or disapproved of her guest’s appearance.

All in all it hadn’t been a successful visit, at least as far as Eden was concerned, and it hadn’t been something she had ever wanted to repeat, despite Tim’s constant pleading. She always had an excuse ready when he suggested they visit his parents.

It had been obvious from the first who was the driving force behind the Channing money; the mild unassuming Paul Channing certainly would not have made a success of his business without the help of his forceful but charming wife.

Tim’s mother certainly had no need to enter her kitchen unless she wanted to, the nearest she came to anything domestic being to approve the menus for the day.

Tim came to sit on the sofa beside Eden, his arm about her shoulders as he snuggled her into his side. ‘I didn’t come here to talk about my mother,’ his mouth caressed her throat. ‘How would you like to make this a permanent thing?’

Her heart began to beat erratically, then she cursed herself for jumping to conclusions. He could mean any number of things by that remark—she hoped! ‘Working in the kitchen?’ she teased.

‘No, silly,’ he chuckled. ‘Will you marry me, Eden?’ he asked seriously.

Eden moved back, her worst fears realised. ‘M-marry you?’ she gasped.

‘Will you?’ He looked anxious.

‘I—well, I—I don’t know,’ A nervous laugh caught in her throat. ‘It’s a bit sudden.’ She stood up to look down at him, wishing he hadn’t just asked her to marry him.

‘I love you,’ he said simply. ‘And I want to marry you. How do you feel about me?’

She wished she knew! Her uncertainty about her feelings was the reason she wished he hadn’t proposed. It had never occurred to her that he would ask her to marry him. She enjoyed his company, liked being with him, but marriage! She wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

‘I like you,’ she began slowly. ‘I like you very much.’