Glancing around the elegant room, he took in the heavily oak-panelled walls dating back to the sixteenth century. Like the bedroom he’d been shown to earlier to ‘freshen up’—which had most likely been code for ditching his leathers—the antique furniture was graceful and well-appointed. Given the state of the rest of the house and grounds that Dare had seen, he surmised that money wasn’t behind the old man’s invitation to his mother. Which left the possibility that he was ill and/or dying.
The thought didn’t stir an ounce of emotion in Dare at all. But the line of oil paintings mounted high on the walls? They were most likely his ancestors, he thought with distaste, and they gave him the creeps. He steeled himself against the unexpected need to search out a likeness. He was nothing like these people and never would be.
It was hard to imagine his mother running around here as a child. The place might be majestic and steeped in history, but it was completely devoid of laughter and lightness. And so alien to his own impoverished upbringing. Not that the wealth of the place bothered him. He could buy it a thousand times over if he wanted to.
He checked his watch, impatient to meet the old man who had unsettled his mother’s world once more. And his own, if the truth be told.
‘I apologise for keeping you waiting, sir.’ The butler who had shown him to his room earlier tipped his head as he stepped into the parlour.
Dare smiled at the man’s cordiality, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Fed up with waiting in his room like a good little schoolboy, Dare had prowled around the house on his own, finally being shown into this room by one of the servants.
‘Forget it,’ Dare said. His quarrel wasn’t with the butler so why make his life harder by being a jerk?
‘May I fix you a pre-dinner drink, sir?’
Dare turned away from a life-sized oil painting of a man in a bad wig. ‘Scotch. Thank you.’
He had no intention of staying for dinner but the butler didn’t need to know that either.
Dare gazed around at the book-lined walls, softly lit lamps, and matching damask sofas. A tartan throw rug caught his eye, the mix of autumn colours reminding him of the pool girl’s glorious mane of hair. She’d been absolutely beautiful, wild and pagan with that long, unbound mane splayed out against the bright green grass, and then she’d opened her eyes and he’d been jolted by the greyish-green hue that reminded him of the Spanish moss that grew on many of the trees back home. The combination was startling. Then there was her skin that had been creamy and, oh, so inviting to touch.
She had reminded him of the angel he and his mother used to place on top of their Christmas tree when he was a child. Her temper, though, had definitely not been angelic and his lips quirked as he recalled how her eyes had shot sparks at him whenever he’d riled her.
Something about her had made him want to get her all hot and bothered, even when she’d insulted him. Not that he had any time for the pool girl, he reminded himself. But still...he had no doubt as to how good those sweet curves of hers would have felt in his arms.
Catching the ludicrousness of his thoughts, Dare gave himself a mental slap-down. He was thirty-two years old, long past the age of mentally drooling about how a woman would feel in his arms. How she would taste on his lips. How he might find her once this business with his grandfather was done.
He took a swig of his drink. He was long past the age of chasing after women as well. Not that he’d ever had to do much of that. He’d always been good with his hands and had a strong attention to detail and the women had loved him for it. True, they often complained that he put work ahead of them, but he’d never claimed to be perfect.
He wondered yet again who had given the pool girl the expensive bauble she’d been so afraid she’d lost. No doubt a lover, but who? His grandfather? He nearly sprayed his Scotch at the thought. As if a gorgeous woman like that would have anything to do with a decrepit, old man.
A light sound outside the door caught his attention and he looked up as a white-haired, elegantly dressed gentleman entered the room.
Finally...
Dare took his grandfather all in at once. The tall build and broad shoulders, the lined face that was both proud and strong. He’d somehow expected his grandfather to look frail and sick and the fact that he didn’t was as irritating to him as his thoughts about the redhead.