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passed since their first meeting. No man who loved her
could have abandoned her in a house where she would be
thrown into Marc’s company. Peter had not even noticed
that she was uneasy with Marc. If he had loved her, he
would have been aware of it.
“Your mother should have said it long ago,” Marc said
coolly. “Even Sam is aware of it. It is obvious to everyone
but you. Peter does not love you, Kate, and I do not believe
you love him.”
She felt her cheeks flame into scarlet and her eyes
seemed to lose the ability to focus. When her breathing
settled a little, she said huskily, “My feelings are my own
business. Was that all you wanted to say?” She was
suddenly terrified that he might guess her feelings for him.
He must go, she thought desperately. He must leave her
alone before she betrayed herself.
Marc thrust his hands into the pockets of his elegant
suit. “You won’t listen to common sense, then? You hand out
free advice to Pallas, to Sam, to me—why won’t you take
some back? Break off this ridiculous engagement and find
someone you can really love and who is a man, not a
dedicated boffin.”
She was so afraid that he would read her love in her eyes
that she said fiercely, “Perhaps I have—perhaps Jean-Paul
is the answer to a maiden’s prayer. Now, do you mind
going? I’m sleepy.”
Marc turned, like an automaton, his face rigid. “Very
well, good night,” he said stiffly, and then the door was shut
and Kate was alone.
She rammed her fists into her mouth, quiveri
