Would Sebastian give her a good reference when their contract was successfully completed? She swallowed a bubble of hysteria and heard the younger girl say, ‘Well, I think it’s terrible. We all do, Mari—you’re the best teacher in the place.’
Mari felt her eyes fill at the tribute.
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘I thought I might travel a bit, take a trip.’ She kept it vague, as she had done the previous day when she had visited Mark, though Chloe showed a lot more interest in her plans than her brother had.
Mark had barely listened when she’d said that she needed to take a trip. All he could talk about were the arrangements for his transfer—his mention of her part in the change in his fortune had been lightly touched on.
‘I knew if you could swallow your pride it would be all right. I’ve no idea what you said to him, sis, but it worked, Seb has done the right thing.’
‘I didn’t say anything. How do you know it was him?’
‘Who else would it be? And don’t look like that.’ He’d sighed. ‘You always managed to ruin things with that guilt thing of yours. It’s win-win—he can go around feeling good because he’s dug his hand in his pocket for the poor cripple and, let’s face it, it’s not as though he doesn’t owe me. He put me here after all.’
Did he...? Mari’s innate honesty could no longer support the deception. She felt guilty for not being more sympathetic to her brother, and when the opportunity arose she’d leaped at the chance to offload that guilt onto someone else.
‘I knew you’d come through for me, sis—you always do.’
When his eyes slid from hers she realised that he didn’t want to know how. Her twin always had a knack to ignore uncomfortable truths, the ones that made him uncomfortable anyway.
It was an ability Mari envied him.
* * *
She was expecting the knock on the door but she jumped anyway.
She’d been expecting a flunkey of some sort, so when she opened the door and found Seb himself standing there she was too shocked to disguise her reaction. Her jaw dropped and her blue eyes flew wide open. The raw masculinity he exuded hit her like a runaway train.
Like someone coming out of a trance, she blinked and hoped her knees would support her. ‘What are you doing here?’ It came out a lot more accusingly than she had intended.
In response his dark brows lifted as without a word he stepped past her and into the living room. He subjected the long narrow space to the same sort of critical scrutiny that she’d endured, and from his expression she assumed it had been assessed as wanting, also.
Lucky she didn’t crave his approval. In fact she told herself if the day ever dawned that she got it, that was the time to worry.
‘I said one o’clock. It is one.’ His frown deepened. ‘Aren’t you ready?’
Trying not to react to his abrupt manner, she gave a curt nod, and, matching his noticeably cold attitude, indicated her bag propped up against the sofa, one of several pieces of furniture in the place she had reupholstered or revamped. She couldn’t sew a stitch, but she was a whiz with a staple gun and a paintbrush.
‘Of course I’m ready.’ Was this about the way she looked? ‘Should I go back and put on my tiara?’ She tried to hide a sudden flash of uncharacteristic insecurity under sarcasm.
He slung her an impatient look. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I thought, you thought that I...maybe should, should I wear something a bit more...?’ She glanced down at her slim-fitting jeans and the cropped jacket left open to reveal the silky acid-yellow sleeveless top that showed a tiny sliver of flat midriff.
His eyes moved in an expressionless sweep from her toes to the top of her glossy head. ‘You look fine. It’s only a register office.’
Wow, he sure knows how to make a girl feel good, she thought, compressing her lips in silent resentment, furious with herself for virtually asking for his approval.
‘Actually I wasn’t expecting you. I assumed you’d send a driver or something.’
Her calm was only a single cell thick, but it was very important to Mari that he had no idea just how not calm she was. She was almost sick with apprehension, and under that there were layers of confusing, conflicting emotions that were just too complicated to acknowledge. On a more practical level she was worried she might actually throw up.
‘So how long will it take...?’
He dragged his gaze from that tiny sliver of flat, toned, creamy-skinned stomach and cleared his throat, reminding himself that this was business.
‘The flight or—?’
‘Both,’ she cut in quickly.