A Vengeful Deception

‘I was considering a stir-fry, if that suits you? Everything comes in ready-to-use packs, which simplifies matters, and we can eat it on our knees in front of the fire.’

‘A stir-fry sounds fine.’

Having discarded the towel, he produced a bottle of sherry, a bottle of white wine and a corkscrew.

‘There is something you can do, after all. Opening bottles seems to require two hands.’

The lights, which weren’t over-bright at the best of times, flickered and went out, leaving only the firelight.

As Anna stood irresolute they flashed on again, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Firelight alone made things much too intimate for her peace of mind.

When both bottles had been opened, Gideon put the wine on one side and poured the pale amber sherry. Passing her a glass, he said, ‘I hope you like it fairly dry?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ She didn’t drink alcohol as a rule, but this seemed no time to say so.

Returning to her chair, she stretched her feet to the blaze and sipped her sherry. Covertly, from beneath long, dark lashes, she watched him assemble the ingredients for a stir-fry, and put a wok to heat on the Aga.

He was wearing a cream cable-knit sweater that emphasised the width of his chest and shoulders. His corn-coloured hair was rumpled, and a single lock had fallen over his forehead, making him look disarmingly boyish.

Which she was quite sure he was not.

He was a mature and dangerous man, and she would do well to remember that, rather than allow herself to be lulled into a false sense of security…

As the unaccustomed sherry and the warmth of the fire banished the chill from her bones, Anna began to relax and try to take a more rational view of the situation.

Though she didn’t like being stranded here alone with Gideon Strange, things weren’t really that desperate.

She had food and warmth and a roof over her head and, as she’d reminded herself earlier, he was a man of some standing, and no doubt perfectly trustworthy.

He might have kissed her under the mistletoe, but on Christmas Eve that could hardly be counted as a crime. And honesty made her admit that, had it been any other man, she wouldn’t have given the kiss a second thought.

Because he reminded her of David, and brought to life all the feelings she had worked so hard to stifle, she was tense and hypersensitive.

Which made the prospect of having to spend the rest of the evening in his company a daunting one.

But rather than let it throw her, what she must do was stay calm and unmoved. Or at least appear to.

If by any chance he did make a pass at her, she could quietly freeze him off. After all, past boyfriends had remarked with some bitterness that it was something she was good at! And though he might not relish having to take no for an answer, she couldn’t see him forcing himself on any woman.

He wouldn’t need to. A man such as he was more likely to have to fight off eager females.

It seemed strange that he wasn’t married. Perhaps he was the ‘love ’em and leave ’em’ type? Or maybe he preferred a live-in lover? She couldn’t see a man with such an aura of sexuality living like a monk.

But if he was involved in any kind of serious, long-term relationship, why had he returned home alone? Unless his partner planned to follow…

‘The best thing about a stir-fry is that it doesn’t take too long.’

Gideon’s voice broke into Anna’s thoughts and, startled, she looked up to find him by her side. He was holding a small round tray which he settled on her knees. It held a napkin, a glass of wine, a bowl heaped with chicken, prawns and colourful vegetables, and a pair of chopsticks.

He put the bottle containing the remaining wine on the low table, and a moment later, equipped with a matching tray, took his seat opposite.

Raising his glass, so the flickering flames turned the colourless wine to gold, he said, ‘Here’s to us!’

She drank dutifully.

‘A stir-fry may not be particularly appropriate,’ he admitted with a grin, ‘but tuck in while it’s nice and hot.’

Suddenly finding she was hungry after all, she needed no more urging.

For a while they ate in silence, then, picking up the bottle of wine, he leaned forward to refill her glass.

She shook her head. ‘No more for me, thank you.’

‘Sure you won’t have another glass? After all, it is Christmas Eve.’

‘I don’t think so, thanks,’ she refused politely. ‘I don’t usually drink.’

‘How virtuous of you.’

Ignoring the blatant mockery, she concentrated on her food. It was surprisingly good, and when her bowl was empty she looked up to say, ‘Thank you very much. I enjoyed that.’

‘Tomorrow we’ll stick with traditional Christmas fare—turkey, stuffing, and all the trimmings. I even remembered to buy cranberry sauce,’ he added triumphantly.

When she said nothing, he quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘Don’t you think congratulations are in order?’

‘I expect to be gone by tomorrow morning.’ Her voice was unconsciously edgy.

‘Listening to that wind howling, and the snow beating against the windows, I shouldn’t bet on it. I remember a similar blizzard when I was a boy,’ he went on reminiscently. ‘Because the drive dips in several places, and the contours of the land encourage drifting, we were snowed in for several days. Still, if we are snowbound, we’ve plenty of food and drink and a good supply of logs, so there’s nothing to worry about. We’re lucky, really.’

It was pretty much what she’d told herself earlier, but hearing him sound so glib and self-satisfied touched her on the raw.

Suddenly, he started to chuckle.

It was a deep, attractive sound that at any other time would have made her want to laugh with him. Now, she protested stiffly, ‘I really don’t see anything to laugh at.’

‘You’re not sitting where I am. If you could see your face!’

Her grey eyes sparkling with anger, she pointed out, ‘It’s all right for you. You’re at home, where you want to be.’

‘Do I take it you’d sooner be sitting alone in a bedsit? Or inflicting yourself on a family who may not really want you?’

Cheeks burning, Anna wished, not for the first time, that she hadn’t told him so much. She wasn’t usually so forthcoming. It had been sheer nervousness that had made her babble on.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said after a moment. ‘That wasn’t particularly kind.’

She grasped the nettle. ‘No, but it doesn’t stop it being true.’

‘Actually, I doubt if it is. Put it down to pique on my part, because I’m very happy with the way things have turned out.’