or so, very self-assured, his features arrogantly good-looking,
his clothes discreetly well cut. He was as dark as Pallas, his
black hair thick and straight, his skin very tanned.
Pallas came forward awkwardly, as white now as she had
been red, and falteringly introduced Kate.
Kate held out her hand, making herself smile, but Marc
Lillitos took it with a firm grip, unsmilingly.
Then he looked at Sam. Pallas mumbled Sam’s name.
Kate was very proud of her brother as he came forward,
suddenly dignified, and shook hands. He did not allow the
older man to stare him out of countenance, but met his eyes
directly and frankly.
There was a brief silence, then Marc Lillitos said coldly,
“Wait for me in the car, Pallas. I want to have a word with
Miss Caulfield.”
She stumbled out of the room with the old sullen
uncertainty back in force. Kate felt a sting of anger against
this man.
Sam took Kate’s elbow. “Shall I stay, Sis?”
She was grateful for his offer of support, but shook her
head. “No, thank you.”
Sam met her eyes, grimaced and left the room.
Marc Lillitos looked at her, very slowly and carefully, as
though inspecting a loathsome slug found in his lettuce.
“I was surprised when I was informed that my sister was
at your house,” he began coolly. “I was horrified when I came
in here and saw her, looking like some hippie, apparently
kissing your brother. Have you any explanation of why you
have encouraged her to behave in this disgusting way, or
must I draw my own conclusions?”