Page 6 of Passion's Prey

'Yes. Simon Polruan.' She paused a moment then, not at all sure what prompted her to say it, added, 'My fiance.'

'Simon Polruan,' he repeated slowly, then, as if he found it impossible to believe, 'You are engaged to that prissy little—?'

'Don't say it,' she burst in fiercely. Don't dare say it. You haven't seen Simon for years, so you know nothing about him.'

'My dear child,' but there was no tenderness in his voice, only a harshness that made her flinch, 'what that young man was at twenty he will be even more so—at fifty. He is, no doubt, a rigid, ice-cold—'

'I won't listen to you!' She glowered at him. 'You're not going to insult Simon. He's nice and kind—which is something you'll never be in a million years. And—and steady—'

'And totally boring.' His lip curled derisively.

'No, he's not!' Her emerald eyes sparked. 'But he is someone I know I can trust completely. He'll never let me down.'

'Unlike your father, you mean,' he put in very softly.

Jamming her clenched hands into the pockets of her ski-pants, she said expressionlessly, 'If you say so.'

'And will his mother let him marry you, do you think?' The grey-blue eyes were cold, remorseless. 'An ordinary village girl? Surely no one less than the lord lieutenant's daughter will do for her baby boy?'

She wouldn't lower herself to respond. 'I'm sorry, Jared, but you simply don't know what you're talking about,' she said haughtily. 'Simon's a grown man now and he makes his own decisions.'

'Really?' There was a wealth of unpleasantness in the word. 'But surely you know the saying: a leopard never changes his spots?'

'Well, you don't change, that's for sure,' she snapped. 'But I don't suppose you can help it—

Oh, I'm sorry.' She caught herself up stiffly, ashamed of the cheap gibe. He gave her a sidelong glance. 'You mean, it's in my blood—in my genes?'

'Something like that, I suppose.' She gave him a faint smile, which he did not respond to.

'Look, Jared, I don't want to quarrel with you—'

'Well, that's a relief,' he said laconically.

Her lips tightened, but she made herself go on in the same ultra-reasonable tone, 'After all, if we're going to be neighbours for a couple of weeks—'

'A couple of weeks?' He quirked a dark eyebrow. 'Mrs Pearce can't have told you the good news.'

'What news?' There was something in his voice that made her suddenly very apprehensive.

'Oh, just that I've taken a lease on the cottage for the next three months.'

'Three months!' She gaped at him, stark terror welling in her, but then said flatly, 'I don't believe you.'

He shrugged carelessly. 'Sorry to disappoint you. Just ask her next time you see her.'

'But three months. What have you come for?'

He looked down at her, a lazy little smile flicking at the corner of his mouth.

'Passion, my dear Petra,' he drawled. 'Sheer, unadulterated—naked passion.'

CHAPTER THREE

And as Petra stared at him, quite mute, Jared dropped back down into his chair, hooked a slice of bread from the coaster, buttered it with calm deliberation and began eating, with every appearance of healthy appetite.

'W—what do you mean—' she ran the tip of her tongue around her lips '—passion?'

He smiled up at her in a way she did not at all care for. 'There you are, you see. You did manage to say that nasty word.'

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