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'I wasn't criticising—'
'Yes, you were.' He eyed her grimly. 'Your face is very open, Miriam. I can call you Miriam?' She nodded helplessly, wanting to lower her eyes away from that hypnotic gaze but quite unable to do so. 'Very open and very innocent. Quite an unusual combination in this fast, modern age. Do you live by yourself?'
The sudden change of direction threw her, and she gazed at him silently for a moment before nodding slowly. 'Yes.' She didn't quite like the personal tone that the conversation was taking but couldn't have explained even to herself the reason for her unease. 'Mitch still lives with my mother at home, though. She likes having him there to worry over and he enjoys having his washing done and his meals ready on time, but I found that after a couple of years away fending for myself at college I needed my own space.'
'No flatmate?' he asked expressionlessly, his eyes wandering over the gleaming red of her hair that glowed in the light from the fire.
'Not exactly.' The unease intensified but the dark face portrayed nothing more than polite interest. 'It's not really a flat anyway, just a small bedsit, but it's in a nice house and we have fun.'
'We?'
'The others who live in the house,' she said awkwardly. 'There are five bedsits and we all share the bathroom and kitchen so it pays to get on.'
'It would do.' He seemed as though he was going to say more, but after a long moment of silence settled back in his chair abruptly.
She finished the coffee and struggled through the enormous piece of cake, feeling more uncomfortable than she had ever felt in her life—and it was all down to him, she thought silently. He made her feel gauche and young and stupid, and yet, today at least, he had been quite civil. But it was just his whole attitude. She studied him through her eyelashes as she finished the last of the cake. He was so cold and severe, so without warmth, and yet…
'Right.' As she set down her plate on the coffee-table the piercing silver gaze switched to her face. 'Let's get on with it.'
And get on with it they did. He ran his eyes down several columns of figures, his lips moving slightly as though he was checking the totals, but Miriam couldn't believe that he could work so fast until he pointed out an error, his voice terse.
He was calculating the figures more swiftly in his head than she had done on the calculator, she thought weakly as he continued to skim over her neat lists, making the odd alteration here and there and one or two suggestions that were spot on. They had finished within ten minutes, although she felt as if she had left her brains somewhere back on the first couple of pages.
'Excellent.' He gathered up the heap of papers and handed them across to her. 'When do you intend to begin work?'
'Monday?' she asked carefully. 'I thought I'd take advantage of the four freezers in the kitchens if that's all right; it seems silly not to. And although I understand the fresh flowers will need to be put in place on the actual morning I wondered if the silk displays could be done during the previous week? With such a short time span ahead it would help—'
'Fine, fine.' He waved an impatient hand, clearly irritated by the minor details, but
without the housekeeper being available it was essential that she got such factors clear at the outset, she thought determinedly. 'Anything else?' he asked abruptly.
'Would it be possible for me to familiarise myself with the kitchens now?' she asked quietly. 'I shall be bringing two assistants on Monday and I'd prefer to know where everything is.'
'Certainly.' He glanced at his watch as he spoke, his expression preoccupied, and as he strode from the room she trotted after him in much the same manner as the day before.
When they reached the big hall and began to cross it she felt a surge of rebellion as she followed the straight, hard figure in front of her—an illogical defiance against his cool command and authority.
She stopped abruptly, lifting her head to the magnificent, sculptured ceiling as she spoke. 'This hall seems tailormade for something as romantic as a wedding,' she said loudly, her eyes flickering to the broad body as it turned, and then back up to the ceiling again. 'Your sister is very lucky,' she continued a little breathlessly. 'She's going to have the sort of wedding every female dreams of.'
He eyed her for a long, sombre moment before replying, so her eyes were forced to drop to his face. The light streaming in from the tall, narrow windows either side of the building illuminated the thick black hair with a soft haze, and the hard grey eyes were narrowed against its brilliance as he took the few steps to her side. 'Satin and lace and orange blossoms?' he drawled cynically, his voice dark and sardonic. 'Something along those lines?'
'Sounds good to me.' She smiled, determined not to be intimidated.
'And you think such a beginning is important?' he asked mockingly.
'Important?' She stared up into his face, her nerves registering the sheer sensuality of the man at such close range. 'Not exactly important, I guess, but nice for those who can afford it.' The mocking curve to his mouth deepened and she stepped back a pace, her face straightening. 'What's the matter? Don't you agree?'
'Whether I agree or not is irrelevant,' he said slowly as his gaze wandered to her indignant mouth and then back to the angry violet eyes. 'The bare facts of the matter are that my sister is marrying a man she became engaged to after four weeks and has known for four months because she is suddenly, and quite irrationally, frightened of reaching middle age without the prospect of having children.'
His voice was deep and unemotional. 'She is not without charm and looks, has an extremely high IQ, which she uses to devastating effect in her job as a top lawyer, and yet, for some unfathomable reason, she has embarked on what can only be a major disaster for herself and the man in question. I'm sorry, Miriam, but I have no enthusiasm for this wedding and no intention of pretending I have.'
'Oh.' His words had stunned her, and with the silver-sharp eyes still holding hers her thought process was numbed considerably. She broke his gaze by sheer willpower, turning on her heel and pretending to glance round the beautiful empty hall as she struggled to get her thoughts in order. 'Then why are you spending so much money and making such a fuss?' she asked weakly.
'She is my sister.' There was an inflexion in the dark voice, the merest huskiness, that told her that he wasn't quite so detached about his sister as he would like her to believe.
'Are you sure it's true, what you've said?' she asked after a long moment had passed in absolute silence. 'I mean, how do you know—?'
'Barbara wouldn't acknowledge it but it is the truth.'
