His eyebrows shot up, and for a moment Heather thought he didn’t remember. And then he smiled, and there was something in the mocking smile that turned her insides upside-down.
‘Oh, yes…I ought to thank you for that.’ He saw her wary expression and laughed. ‘You see, it left a scar.’ He touched his thigh reflectively. ‘Most interestingly positioned, and the cause of much feminine speculation and—er—concern.’
Heather glared at him, hating him for deliberately making her so aware of his sexuality.
‘I told them I had been bitten by a rabid dog,’ he added reflectively, another smile tugging at his mouth.
‘Of the female variety, of course,’ Heather responded.
He caught her drift and his eyebrows lifted.
‘You’re underestimating yourself,’ he told her mockingly. ‘If I had to compare you to any member of the animal kingdom it would be to a wild she-cat: all claws, snarls and lashing tail.’
His eyes dropped to her hands, and to her consternation Heather discovered, as she followed his gaze downwards, that her fingers were curled as though ready to strike out at her prey.
He laughed, a soft, satisfied sound that made her skin tingle and raised a rash of goosebumps under it. ‘I’ve often wondered if you’ve ever fulfilled that promise of passion that was so much a part of those early teenage years.’
‘That’s something you’re never going to know.’
The hoarse intensity of her voice shocked her. What was she doing, allowing him to inveigle her into this kind of confrontation; a type of confrontation she could only retreat from in disorder?
She knew nothing of the sexual pleasure he was hinting at, and as for passion…!
‘Don’t tell me you really prefer your lovers tame and timid, like the poor specimen you had with you the other night? Or was it a case of needs must?’
He showed her his teeth in a savage grin. Her breath seemed to have leaked away somewhere deep inside her chest, and her lungs heaved as she tried desperately to breathe.
What was happening to her? What was he doing to her? Certainly he was showing her a side of himself he had always previously kept discreetly camouflaged. But she had always known it was there, had always known that he was an intensely sensual human being. How had she known that? She shivered again, tormented by the shocking intimacy of her thoughts.
A thousand excuses for her immediate departure clamoured for utterance, but to give voice to them would be cowardly, and more, it would betray to him just how disturbing she found their conversation. She had to play him at his own game, to show him how adult she was. He was just trying to get under her skin, he was tormenting her as he had tormented her so often in the past, but now he was using far more sophisticated weapons. He couldn’t know that her total sexual experience was limited to a few fumbled caresses and unedifying kisses. He couldn’t know how weak and shivery he made her feel, just by talking to her the way he was.
‘I think it’s time we had lunch.’
The abrupt return to normality overwhelmed her. She suspected that he was doing everything he could to keep her on edge, and she was determined that she wouldn’t let him see that he had got through to her. She had always known how clever he was; how cunning and determined to have his own way. He might profess to
want a better relationship between them, but she was under no illusions; deep down inside, he still resented her, just as she still resented him.
All right, in her case that resentment was tinged with guilt and touched by a compassion she could not help feeling for the child he had once been, rejected and unloved. She was mature enough, yes, and woman enough to feel that, but he still made her feel as prickly and defensive as a threatened animal; he still made her walk warily and watch carefully.
‘Everything’s ready. We’ll be eating in the dining-room. It’s this way.’
The dining-room was furnished with the same simplicity as the rooms Heather had already seen, very much in keeping with the age of the house, the dark-panelled walls glistening softly in the firelight.
‘You realise, don’t you, that there are going to have to be some changes?’ Kyle told her abruptly, once he had served their meal.
She should not have been surprised at his skill, her mother had, after all, insisted on teaching both of them how to look after themselves, just as her father had taught them both to drive and to carry out small household maintenance tasks. There was no sexual bigotry in her parents’ household, apart, of course, from the fact that they had always wanted a son.
She put down her knife and fork, ignoring the delicious chicken casserole, her thoughts winging back to the past.
‘Heather, did you hear me?’
She frowned and looked down the length of the polished oak table.
‘Yes, you said something about things changing.’
‘Mmm…the house, for instance. After his operation, those stairs will be too much for your father. Your mother was talking about buying a small villa in Portugal. Apparently they’ve always liked the country. Then they could spend their winters there…’
He was going too fast for her, covering ground she had not even yet had time to consider. She knew what he said was correct, but the thought of losing the house that had been home to her for so long, the thought of her parents actually taking the decision to sell…