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you were going on a dig?” he repeated.
“Yes, Peter is an archaeologist. We always spend our
holidays at archaeological sites.”
He raised a sardonic brow. “How unusual!” The smoothly
derisive tone infuriated her once more.
“We like it!” she shot back angrily.
His smile doubted her, but he only said, “If your fiancé
cares to come, too, he will be very welcome.”
She shook her head. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m
afraid Peter wouldn’t be interested.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Pallas would have been so happy to
have you there, but I am sure she will understand that you
prefer to be with your real friends.”
“That isn’t fair,” she said hotly. “I like her very much, but
Peter is my fiancé, after all ...”
“Don’t worry,” he said blandly, “I’ll explain it to her.”
“I bet you will!” she seethed, “and hurt her feelings badly
in the process.” She stood up. “Will you take me home now? I
think we’ve said enough.”
He did not argue. They drove home in a frozen silence.
When he stopped the car she fumbled with the door and he
leaned over and put his hand over hers. “I’ll do it,” he
murmured, looking down at her with the teasing smile which
had surprised her earlier.
Kate angrily realised that her heart had once again
performed that peculiar, inexplicable flip. Climbing out with
dignity, she said good night and then shot away as though
the devil were after her.
Sam was waiting up for her, a flask of cocoa on the
kitchen table at his elbow, his sketch pad open under his
