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His gaze caught hers and she couldn’t look away. The piercing blue eyes she had seen so often in her dreams were studying her face, assessing her motives. She could feel it. She nodded. ‘He’s doing fine.’
‘Of course I am,’ Andrew put in. ‘I’m as strong as a horse. I’ve been telling you that for months, Rafe.’
‘So you have.’
Marianne felt enormous relief when the sapphire gaze was directed at the older man. She knew Rafe was an expert at searching people’s faces to discover their emotions because Andrew had told her so. It was one of Rafe’s greatest strengths in business, his father had said proudly, and worth its weight in gold. She didn’t share Andrew’s enthusiasm.
The meal continued amid conversation about the business in America and how the alterations to Seacrest were progressing. To an outsider everyone would have appeared relaxed and insouciant but that couldn’t have been more at odds with the way Marianne felt inside. She had expected to have time to get herself primed for Rafe’s return, to bring to the fore the armour she knew it was vital to have in place with this man. And here she was in the same grubby clothes she’d been wearing all day when she had been clearing the old kitchen ready for the builders to begin knocking it about the next day, as well as keeping an eye on the work in progress, which involved walking through clouds of dust and debris. Normally she bathed and changed before coming to Andrew’s, but lack of time had meant that wasn’t possible today, not if she was going to fit in Andrew’s hour of therapy.
It hadn’t helped that her little car had refused to start and she had had to gallop the couple of miles to the village. Whenever she did walk to the cottage—and that was more often than not—she usually enjoyed the peaceful walk through high-hedged lanes, but tonight she’d arrived feeling hot and sticky.
Once the meal was finished she helped Crystal carry the dishes through to the kitchen and load the dishwasher, before popping her head round the dining-room door where the two men were sitting enjoying a brandy with their coffee. ‘I’m off,’ she said brightly, letting her gaze wash over both faces. ‘See you tomorrow.’
‘I’ll walk back with you.’ Rafe stood up as he spoke.
‘No, you must be tired.’ Even as she voiced the words she knew he wouldn’t take any notice. One thing she had learnt about Rafe in the last few months was that he always did exactly what he determined to do.
‘Not at all,’ he said smoothly, right on cue. ‘An evening walk in the fresh air is just what I need after all that travelling. I’m tired of sitting.’
As they stepped out of the front door the scents and sounds of a late summer evening surrounded them. Rafe took her arm in the familiar gesture she remembered, tucking it through his as they walked out of the drive and into the village street. ‘Did Dad tell you I’d been trying to persuade him to have some therapy on his legs for months after the accident?’ he asked softly. When she shook her head, he continued, ‘But he dug his heels in and said he’d do it his way. By the time he realised he was making no progress the leukaemia was diagnosed.’
‘He can be stubborn.’ Like father, like son.
‘Anyway, you’re a miracle-worker and I’m grateful,’ the deep masculine voice murmured before becoming silent.
Her hair was loose and a warm, salt-scented breeze caused one or two strands to drift across her cheeks as they left the village behind and continued along a lane which climbed away from the sea. The violet shadows of dusk were beginning to creep across the road as they walked, still in silence, and several times Marianne had to swallow against the tightness in her throat.
It was when they branched off into the narrower lane which bordered the cliffs and led to Seacrest that Rafe spoke again. ‘How have you been?’
‘Me? Busy,’ she said lightly. ‘How about you?’
‘The same.’ He paused. ‘Marianne, you aren’t afraid of me, are you?’ There was a strange quality to his voice and she couldn’t quite define it.
‘Of course I’m not.’ It wasn’t the truth. Physically, she knew he would do nothing to hurt her. Emotionally…
‘Good.’ He sniffed the air appreciatively. ‘I’d forgotten how good it smells here. I don’t think I’ve ever smelt this mixture of sea and flowers and fields in the same way anywhere else. I thought my father was crazy to come back but I’m beginning to see why his birthplace could exert a pull.’
They had reached a bend in the lane where the hedgerow was low enough to see over the top of it. Below the field to their left, which sloped dramatically down to the cliffs, a panoramic view of sea and sky could be seen, the water glittering in the dying sun. ‘It’s the most beautiful place in the world,’ she said throatily, the lovely night and the fact that Rafe was here at the side of her causing a weakness she could well have done without.
‘You’re beautiful.’ She tensed as his hands gently pulled her to face him, enclosing her in the circle of his arms. ‘I haven’t been able to get you out of my head while I’ve been away.’
She forced a casualness she didn’t feel. ‘With all those gorgeous American women on hand? I can’t believe that.’
‘Neither could I, to be truthful, but it’s a fact.’ He was deadly serious now. His eyes darkened as he added, ‘I took someone out to dinner when I’d been back a few days but halfway through the evening I realised I was using her as a substitute for you. It wasn’t my finest moment.’
She didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry,’ she managed after a moment or two.
‘You’ve bewitched me, do you know that?’ His voice emerged husky and his eyes were a deeper blue than usual.
‘Rafe—’
‘I know, I know. We’re different people and we want different things, but right at this moment all I want is you. Tell me you don’t feel it, this primal attraction between us. Tell me your blood isn’t sizzling right now.’
She made a smal
l, ineffectual effort to shake her head but he pulled her closer against his hard body. ‘We’re two free agents, Marianne. There’s no reason on earth why we shouldn’t enjoy each other’s company.’
She opened her mouth to tell him there were a hundred reasons but his head lowered and his lips traced the outline of her mouth. ‘I keep remembering the times I’ve kissed you,’ he said against the softness of her flesh. ‘And every time I get as hard as a rock and want more—much more.’ He nipped at her lower lip, tasting the sweetness that was her. ‘Damn it, I haven’t been able to sleep, to think. For the first time in my life I’ve taken short cuts in an effort to get back over here to see you. What have you done to me, woman?’
