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'I think we can manage without you, Mr Grey,' she said coldly. 'We have done for years.'
He laughed. 'We can always get along without things we've never had,' he said softy. 'It's custom that makes us dependent.'
'Well, I'm not dependent on you, Mr Grey,' she snapped.
'Not yet, perhaps,' he said, in a softly menacing tone which made the hair rise on the back of her head.
Her pulses raced as he moved towards her, but she lifted her chin defiantly, determined not to show him how his physical presence affected her.
He looked down at her from his greater height, the dark eyes flickering, the thick almost feminine lashes half veiling their expression. 'You look tired, like a little girl. Are you sure you wouldn't like me to carry you to bed?'
'Don't touch me!' she snapped, panicking immediately at the thought of being picked up in those powerful arms as she had been before, carried like a child against his muscled chest.
His mouth parted on an amused smile, the white teeth showing briefly. 'What are you afraid of? Me? Or yourself?'
'Why should I be afraid of myself?' she retorted scornfully.
'Because you're alarmed by your own response to me,' he said mockingly. 'I think you're rather inexperienced, for all your outward sophistication. The packaging glitters, but underneath it lies something far more vulnerable.'
'You should be a psychologist, not a tycoon,' she said sarcastically.
'Business requires a great deal of psychological warfare,' he said drily. 'Rather like war… how can you defeat the enemy unless you understand him ? That was why Field-Marshal Montgomery kept a photograph of Rommel in his bedroom… he wanted to understand the way the other man thought, so that he could anticipate his every move.'
'Thanks for the warning!'
His eyes teased her again. 'Oh, are we enemies?'
The intimacy of the tone made her feel suffocated for a second or two. She said flatly, 'Aren't we?'
'There's no enmity on my side,' he said softly.
'There is on mine,' she returned frankly. 'You played a trick on me, and I haven't forgotten that. Nor will I ever forget that it was because of the Unex take-over bid that my father had this heart attack.'
'Your father has had a heart condition for several years,' said Stonor coolly.
'What?' Marie was incredulous. 'Who told you that?'
'When I do business with a man I like to know all I can about him. I had a report on your father months ago. I knew about his health, his divorce, even about his spoilt, wayward daughter… when I saw you in the Hotel Marina I had recently read a hefty dossier on you.'
'You sound like the secret police of some police state!' she said in a voice heavy with rage.
He shrugged. 'Information is the raw material of my decision-making process. I never act purely on instinct.'
'Never?' she asked, remembering that kiss beside the campfire in the oasis.
The dark eyes narrowed. 'Almost never,' he conceded, moving nearer, holding her eyes compellingly.
Marie felt a strange fluttering in the pit of her stomach. She knew he was going to kiss her, and for a moment all her instincts demanded that she forget everything, and let him. Then her pride rose bitterly in revolt, and she moved away from him, backing angrily, her glance daring him to touch her.
'Despite what you say, I blame you for my father's illness. Your take-over brought about the attack. If he dies…'
She stopped on the word, her voice choking, tears rushing into her eyes. She glared at him briefly, then turned and ran down the corridor to her own room and locked the door of her bedroom behind her. As she leaned on the door, sobbing under her breath, she heard the click of a light switch being turned off and then the quiet closing of the front door. He had gone.
CHAPTER FOUR
JAMES BRINTON continued to fight for his life with increasing strength, helped by Clare's constant presence beside his bed. Marie saw clearly that her father's affection for his wife was growing alongside his return to health. The long, quiet days in his bed were giving him time to think, time to take stock of his situation. He and Clare were happy together, talking quietly or falling silent for a while, learning a new companionship which reaped dividends for James in his struggle with his health.
Marie visited him each day, too, but tactfully left her mother behind when she left the hospital. Clare had moved into the flat fully now, bringing cases of clothes with her. Mrs Abbot behaved towards her with a sort of cool politeness which only just masked a deep hostility, but judging it best to leave things alone for the moment, Marie pretended to be blind to Mrs Abbot's feelings. After all, she thought, there was probably a little jealousy involved. Mrs Abbot had run their home for so long. No doubt she felt Clare to be a threat to her own position in the household.
