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Silent though she was, the moment her foot went down on the soft carpet Constantine’s eyes flickered open immediately, and Jade’s senses prickled as she was caught up in the compelling blackness of his gaze.
‘You look tired,’ she said, without thinking.
His eyebrows were raised fractionally as if sur- prised by her solicitude. ‘Yes. Your tea should revive me.’
‘For what?’
His hand moved to rub wearily at the back of his neck. ‘I have a business dinner.’
He said it with a quiet acceptance which caused her to look at him with new eyes. Suddenly she saw through to the loneliness and isolation of the tycoon, the omnipotent head of a vast organis- ation. Maybe there’d never been anyone in his life to tell him to slow down. She tried to dampen down another rush of definitely unwarranted sympathy. ’Do you have to go out on business tonight?’
‘Why?’ The voice was mocking, and the black eyes flickered over her watchfully. ‘Are you offer- ing me a more attractive alternative?’
Jade didn’t react as she sat down in front of the tea-tray. ‘I merely meant that you look as though you could do with a good night’s sleep.’
‘But I’m not going to get one, am I?’ he queried silkily. ‘Not when I know that you’re right next door to me.’
‘But you slept OK last night,’ she pointed out.
‘Did I?’ he parried. ‘Are you quite sure about that?’
‘Tea?’ asked Jade, a fixed smile upon her face as she picked up the heavy silver teapot, thinking rather hysterically that she sounded like one of the characters from a comic farce.
‘Thanks.’ He took the cup that she offered him, adding a wafer-thin slice of lemon, and for a while the scrumptious contents of the tray were enough to take her mind off their sleeping arrangements. Jade bent her golden head over the various plates as she busily examined and began selecting con- tents from the assortment of dishes on the tray.
‘Mmm!’ she murmured enthusiastically, slightly embarrassed when she looked up into a pair of bemused black eyes. ‘I haven’t had a cream tea for years!’ she found herself explaining lamely.
‘Haven’t you?’ He smiled. ‘Me neither. Choles- terol be damned! Pass me one of those scones, please.’
In the end, it proved a surprisingly companion- able meal as they both ladled thick home-made strawberry jam on to the fluffy scones, and com- pounded the damage by adding big spoonfuls of clotted cream.
Jade was absolutely starving and Constantine seemed amused by her delicate greed. ‘Good?’
It was terribly easy to like him when he was in this kind of benign, indulgent mood, she thought. He’d been like that when she’d first met him and now, as then, she found it impossible not to return his rare smile. ‘Mmm,’ she murmured with satis- faction, as she leaned back in the armchair and stretched her arms above her head. ‘That was de- licious—I feel absolutely full.’
But with an abrupt movement he put his cup down on to the table. ‘There are a number of things we must discuss.’ His voice seemed to have as- sumed its habitually gritty quality, and their earlier mood of something resembling camaraderie was immediately broken.
Jade sat upright and took a sip of her tea. ‘Such as?’
‘Who you wish to come to our wedding.’
‘You mean I have a choice?’
The black eyes flashed a silent warning. ‘I mean that I have no intention of letting your ex-colleagues provide a “scoop”—but that if you wish your parents to come, then obviously—’
‘No,’ cut in Jade quickly.
His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re quite sure?’
On the island they had not, she realised, done more than merely skate over their family life—he knew that she was an only child, and she knew that he had a brother and a stepsister. Her own reluc- tance to talk about it had been due to the highly unsatisfactory nature of her early years. Now, for the first time she began to wonder whether his own reluctance stemmed from a similar source.
‘You don’t wish for either of your parents to come?’ he asked curiously.
‘No.’
He frowned. ‘I see.’
He didn’t, not really. Jade realised that her bald answer must sound uncaring. Not that it could possibly matter if he thought her an unfeeling daughter. He couldn’t possibly think any worse of her than he already did. But even so, she decided to elaborate, for her pride’s sake more than any need to confide in him. ‘My father is dead—’
