‘Please yourself,’ Grant shrugged, sitting down to drink his own coffee. ‘Or take it with you if you want to.’
She didn’t particularly want to. Her tiredness of earlier had passed, and besides, it seemed churlish of her after he had allowed Ragtag in the house. ‘I’ll only be a moment,’ she said softly.
He seemed not to hear her, his hands cupping the mug as he slowly sipped the hot drink, his thoughts inwards. Ryan had an impression of loneliness in that moment, which was ridiculous in the circumstances. Grant had numerous servants, a brother and sister who loved him, and Valerie, who certainly wanted to marry him. He didn’t need her sympathy!
Ragtag lost no time in jumping on to the bottom of her bed once they reached her room, resisting all her efforts to push him off. ‘That bedspread is pink, you silly dog!’ she groaned, knowing that it wouldn’t be pink much longer. ‘Get off,’ she ordered firmly, having to witness the indignity of the dog falling asleep even as she spoke to him. ‘Having Grant Montgomery see me like this was all your fault, and you have the nerve to go to sleep!’ She might as well have saved her breath, for the dog didn’t even twitch an ear. ‘I’ll remember this next feeding time!’ she warned him as she left, adequately covered by her housecoat now.
Grant had moved to pour himself another cup of coffee, the mockery still in his eyes as he took in the navy blue robe. ‘Feel better?’ he taunted.
‘Yes, thank you.’ She avoided his gaze, stirring sugar into her cooling coffee.
‘Where’s the dog?’ He sat down opposite her.
‘Asleep upstairs,’ she grimaced.
‘He likes his creature comforts.’ His mouth quirked.
‘Yes.’
‘So, how long have you known Mark?’ The question was casually put, and yet the green eyes had norrowed intently.
‘About eighteen months,’ she replied as casually.
‘Strange, he’s never mentioned you before.’
Ryan withstood his steely look with a calm that was only a veneer. Grant’s politeness was only as skin-deep as Mandy’s had been, he liked her no better than his sister did. ‘Maybe I wasn’t important enough,’ she shrugged.
‘Perhaps,’ he nodded. ‘Although that doesn’t appear to be the case now.’
She put her cup down, sighing. ‘Look, maybe I should tell you, Mark is—–’
‘You don’t owe me any explanations, Ryan,’ he interrupted. ‘If there are any to be made Mark will make them.’ His tone was inflexible, there was a hard anger in his face.
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