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It had been around twelve months after her mother’s death when the pictures of her father and the famous film actress in a more than compromising situation had been splashed all over the front pages of the tabloids. She’d just been elevated to dormitory prefect, her good behaviour, politeness and application to her work impressing her teachers. And she could still hear the giggles, the lewd comments whispered behind her fellow students’ hands, see the embarrassing newsprint pictures pinned up over her bed. That, as much as the shambolic life she and Patience had led as they’d pandered to Piers’ genius, had made up her mind never to allow her emotions to play any part in the way she ran her life.
And she was not about to alter that rule now.
Staring him straight in the eye, she continued, as if his input had no meaning, ‘You’re worried about her, I understand that. And I agree, it’s unfortunate that she ever met up with Piers. But you and your parents must take some of the blame. If she hadn’t been—and you admitted this yourself—so protected, it wouldn’t have happened.’
‘You presume too much, señorita!’ He thumped his fist on the table, making the glasses leap. ‘Encarnación and I have no parents. For the past five years since our mother’s death I alone have been responsible for her. I have brought her up as our mother would have wished. I inherited my father’s genes—and I am proud of them. But for Encarnación—they must not touch—that was our mother’s wish. It would not have been fitting for her to be fired by our father’s gypsy blood. We had to be careful that she didn’t catch the infection. Yet you sit there in judgement, presuming to tell me she was wrong. I was wrong!’
Anger turned his dark velvet voice into a menacing growl, turned his eyes into weapons. But Sarah kept her head. He didn’t frighten her. She tipped her head consideringly to one side, careless of the way it made his black frown deepen. So his father had been a gypsy. That was interesting. It explained his volatile temperament, surely? She would ask him about it, but some other time, when he wasn’t so likely to snap her head off.
Telling herself that her deep interest in everything about him was merely academic, she felt a quiver of something quite terrifying scatter the blood in her veins as he leapt up from the table, his mouth grim, telling her, ‘I have had more than enough of this day! I am going to my bed.’ He reached for her arm, dragging her off her feet. ‘You too. I order it. And do not so much as say one word. Not one! The consequences, I promise, would not enthral you!’
CHAPTER NINE
HE’D had more than enough of this day! Did he think she hadn’t? Did he think he had the monopoly on fierce emotions? If anyone should be throwing a temper tantrum, it should be her!
Sarah had a mind to do just that. It might even be fun, she thought belligerently as he hustled h
er through to the adjoining bedroom. And he didn’t really think that he could force her to keep her mouth shut, like a little grey mouse in a corner, just because he hurled threats at her in his temper, did he?
Her eyes sparking defiance, she picked his imprisoning fingers off her arm, one by one, and opened her mouth to tell him he needn’t think she was going to share that bed with him again, because she wasn’t, but the steel in his hooded black eyes, the thunderous warning of his frown pushed the words right back where they’d come from.
All that barely contained black anger, just because she’d had the temerity to point out that his over-protective, chauvinistic attitude towards his sister’s upbringing was probably the underlying cause of her defection!
And his fierce inner rage wasn’t frightening her. She met his gaze and held it, glittering aquamarine squaring up to savage black. On the contrary, she decided as her breath snagged in her throat, he had never seemed more vulnerable to her than he did at this moment. And, taking her by complete surprise, her heart did a little leap then melted inside her. She wanted to wind her arms around him, assure him that everything would be all right. Kiss him better.
She deeply amazed herself.
She picked one of the pillows off the bed and told him gently, ‘I’ll sleep on one of the sofas. I’ll be perfectly comfortable. Shall I use the bathroom first, or will you?’
His snort of disgust told her he wasn’t amused and he plucked the pillow from her fingers and tossed it back where it belonged, his mouth tight as he uttered, ‘I warned you: no arguments. Nothing.’
‘But—’
‘Not a word!’
Kiss him better? That was a laugh! How could she have been such a wimp? She wanted to hit him until he begged for mercy! Planting her hands on her hips, her chin at a haughty angle, she returned his glare with interest and clipped out coolly and clearly, ‘You are bigger than I am and much stronger, but that does not—and I repeat, not— give you the right to bully me.’
She watched his hard mouth tighten, the aristocratic nostrils pinch with irritation, and somehow knew she could push her luck. He wouldn’t harm a single hair of her head, despite all the fire and fury.
‘I understand why you insisted I—er—sleep with you last night. But your concern was based on a misunderstanding. I went to the roof to get a breath of air. I couldn’t sleep. I had no intention of leaping off the battlements—I’m not that feeble.’
She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, wondering whether it would be wise, considering his present mood, to point out that she’d successfully made a fool of him. Then, seeing his face go totally impassive, a black brow arching upwards in what seemed like contempt, she decided to go for broke.
‘You misunderstood and I played along with that in the hope that you might have a conscience and let me go. Obviously I was wrong about that. However, you can rest assured that I won’t do anything foolish. Therefore there is no need to have me sleeping alongside you.’
‘You talk like a piece of business correspondence,’ he said impatiently, crossing his arms high over his impressive chest. ‘How do I know you are not lying again? You bleated about locked doors, so I—’ he made an expansive gesture with one hand ‘—unlocked all. I humoured you. In return you will humour me.’ It was not a request, it was a command armoured with plate steel. ‘I can’t take the risk of trusting you to behave yourself.’
‘You left me alone for most of the day,’ she returned, deploring the tinge of a whine in her voice, wondering where it had come from.
He answered with evident boredom, ‘I asked Rosalia to keep an eye on you—letting her know I was afraid you’d get bored without my constant attentions. She was to tell me immediately if you showed signs of restlessness, and then I would cease my work at once and rush to entertain you. She reported, later, that you’d eaten a good lunch and were sleeping peacefully in our room.’
‘Devil!’ she spluttered. What must that make her in Rosalia’s eyes? A mindless dolly-bird who got in a huff if she didn’t have a man around, dancing attendance! Her reaction earned herself a grim smile.
‘Exactly. And now you know what you are dealing with, perhaps you will stop annoying me and do as you’re told for once. I have been too kind to you, allowed you to get above yourself. So try to remember your position here.’ He made an impatient gesture with one hand. ‘Use the bathroom and get into that bed. I do not want to put myself to the trouble of manhandling you there, and tying you to the posts. But be assured that I will, if necessary.’
The snap of black temper in his eyes told her he meant exactly what he said. It didn’t bear thinking about. Her stomach churning as if she’d just taken a roller-coaster ride to Hades, she stamped to the bathroom, muttering darkly under her breath.
But he wouldn’t stay awake all night, she told herself as she savagely brushed her teeth. He might make her get in that bed, but he couldn’t stop her creeping out again as soon as he was asleep.
