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A moisture-beaded glass bumped against her fingers. He must have moved with the speed of light. She sipped the water, feeling distinctly foolish at having been deprived of her haughty exit.
‘How are you feeling now?’
‘Perfectly fine,’ Molly said stiffly. ‘You know I was about to leave?’
‘That’s your decision.’ Sholto strolled over to the tall windows, the sunlight gleaming over his arrogant dark head to accentuate his spectacular cheekbones and the ruthless cast of his mouth. He gazed back at her steadily, glittering eyes gilded to gold. ‘But bear in mind that I won’t repeat this offer.’
‘You should never have made it. I don’t know where you got the nerve to even think that I would consider such an arrangement!’ Molly told him with sudden fire.
‘I don’t suffer from nerves, Molly. When I want something I go after it and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it. You were the one who brought the commercial aspect into this—’
‘I was?’ she interrupted incredulously.
‘You’re only here now because of your brother.’ Shoulders and spine rigid, Molly rose to her feet. ‘I’m glad you appreciate that fact.’
‘I do admire your spirit. Obviously you feel more than equal to the task of supporting Nigel and Lena through their coming ordeal,’ Sholto murmured smoothly as she turned on her heel. ‘I would say that both of them are rather weak reeds in the face of adversity. And the apparent menace of my bankers will be as nothing next to the infinitely more aggressive tactics likely to be employed by Nigel’s other cred
itors.’
Involuntarily Molly’s feet faltered on their passage to the door. ‘What are you trying to say?’
‘That the instant my people put the garden centre on the market Nigel’s other creditors will take fright and descend like a hoard of locusts. Then the courts and the bailiffs will become involved.’
Molly had a mental image of Fiona’s soft toys being snatched from her by some big, brawny, aggressive man. Her stomach heaved. Bailiffs. The threatening, final response to unsettled debts. She knew nothing about bailiffs but somehow the very mention of them struck cold horror into her bones.
As she slowly turned back to look at Sholto, she watched his slow smile build and wild, bitter anger flooded her. She felt like a puppet having its strings pulled. ‘You can’t possibly want a woman who hates your guts!’
‘Hate me the way you hated me at Freddy’s house and I have this extraordinary feeling that I will thrive,’ Sholto asserted with immense cool.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘I DON’T know why I’m still here,’ Molly gritted.
But the trouble was that she knew all too well and that bitter awareness was of no comfort. Sholto had the power to end Nigel and Lena’s nightmare. The power to work a miracle and restore an entire family to happy and secure normality. But he also had the power to make her sit back down again in his wretched fancy office when she didn’t want to and feel trapped. And that acknowledgement was by far the most frightening.
Sholto was on the phone, his bold, bronzed profile aloof, but his beautifully shaped hands moved in eloquent shifts to sketch vivid word pictures as he talked. Molly studied him with compulsive intensity. If she lived to be a hundred she would never understand Sholto. When they’d been engaged, he had treated her as if she had a defensive barrier round her body, yet four years on, when she had least expected such a move, he had pounced without conscience and shattered her with the apparent force of his desire.
But that had just been sex and where Sholto was concerned Molly held the cynical belief that he was very much a male to whom sex was no big deal. Few women were out of his reach and even fewer said no to him. From adolescence, Sholto had been the frequently bored target of female craving, pursuit and encouragement. She had watched him employ that cool detachment of his to freeze out unwelcome advances. So many beautiful, willing women—what could he possibly see in her?
‘Revenge,’ Molly condemned with driven abruptness. ‘Is that what this is all about?’
Sholto set down the phone.
‘Do you get a sick thrill out of forcing me to agree to something that goes against every principle I have?’ she demanded starkly.
‘Will you get one when I rehabilitate your immature, irresponsible and thoroughly unreliable brother? That goes against every principle I have. And if you feel you’re being forced you should leave now,’ Sholto advised. ‘You made this strictly business, Molly. Emotional appeals are way out of line.’
Molly threw her head back in a jerky movement, green eyes feverishly bright. ‘And where does Pandora come into this arrangement?’
Sholto stilled but his stunning dark eyes remained utterly level. ‘She doesn’t. Any other questions?’
Molly looked through him, shutting him out while she worked at keeping her face carefully blank. The question had been irresistible. She had had to ask even though asking had been like twisting a knife inside an open wound. A light knock sounded on the door, granting her a badly needed breathing space in which to recover.
Sholto set a tray down on the low table next to her. Molly gaped at it. The serving of tea and buttered toast struck her as quite hysterically inappropriate in the circumstances.
‘I thought you should eat something.’
‘I feel more like alcohol than tea,’ she confided rather raggedly.
