‘It doesn’t take much to encourage gossip round here,’ she warned him ruefully.
‘Does that bother you? Conventional women don’t strip and jump into rivers in broad daylight,’ Atreus countered.
Lindy froze. ‘I still haven’t forgiven you for the way you behaved that day.’
Atreus was not accustomed either to seeking forgiveness or indeed absolution. Women invariably made life easy for him by affecting not to notice his mistakes or omissions. Last-minute cancellations and his appearances in the company of other women were always ignored to ensure that he called again. He had learned that when it came to her sex he could get away with just about anything.
‘You were a real seven-letter-word that day at the river!’ Lindy proclaimed without hesitation, when he made no comment.
Atreus tried to recall when he had last heard anyone utilise such care to avoid a swear-word and he was amused.
‘You were rude, thoroughly unpleasant and unreasonable, and you humiliated me!’ Lindy spelt out in a fiery rush to get her point across.
‘I apologised to you,’ Atreus reminded her, with more than a touch of impatience. ‘I rarely apologise.’
It was true that he had apologised, Lindy acknowledged ruefully, wondering if she was being unfair in still holding spite. After all, the man had saved her from serious injury when she’d rescued Dolly. He had also proved that in a crisis he was cool, courageous and protective, all sterling qualities of character which she very much admired. So why couldn’t she escape the suspicion that treating a woman well didn’t come naturally to Atreus Dionides?
‘I don’t know why you’re flirting with me,’ she told him flatly.
‘Don’t you?’
The doubt in his tone provoked her into looking up, and she met smouldering golden eyes below the black sweep of his lashes. Excitement hurtled through her like a wild wake-up call. Thought and breath were suspended. Without any warning at all she wanted his mouth so badly on hers that being denied it hurt. In shock, she tore her gaze from his and retreated into the kitchen.
A split second later all the lights in the house went out. A buzz of dismayed comment was accompanied by the sound of switches being put on and off without success. The kitchen door opened.
‘Your electricity supply must be connected to that of Chantry House, which has been disconnected for safety.’ Atreus’s accented drawl came out of the darkness. ‘It’ll take some time to reorganise that, and it’s unlikely to be today.’
‘Oh, great,’ Lindy muttered ruefully, leaning back against the kitchen cupboards and pushing her dark hair off her damp brow. The shower she had been dreaming about was out of reach now.
The locals began to leave with a chorus of thank-yous for her hospitality.
‘You go as well, Phoebe,’ Lindy urged the Chantry housekeeper, who was hovering at her elbow. ‘It’s been a long night and there’s no need for you to stay on. Most of the cleaning up has already been done.’
‘If you’re sure?’ Phoebe said uncertainly.
‘Of course I am.’
‘Why don’t you come home with me?’ the older woman asked. ‘At least we have electricity.’
‘We’re not that far away from dawn. I’ll be okay,’ Lindy pointed out, reckoning that her companion, who had five children and a husband packed into her tiny terraced house, had quite enough people to contend with when she got home. She groped below the sink to locate her torch, and lit Phoebe’s departure through the back door, locking up in the older woman’s wake.
‘Lindy?’
Lindy flinched in surprise at the sound of the Greek tycoon’s distinctive accented drawl, travelling from the room next door. ‘I thought you’d already gone,’ she admitted, able to distinguish now between different shades of light and dark and picking out his tall, dark silhouette by the living room window.
‘Some thanks that would be for the assistance you gave tonight—abandoning you here without either power or heating,’ Atreus derided. ‘I have a suite booked at Headby Hall and I’d like you to come with me.’
‘I couldn’t possibly,’ Lindy breathed, taken aback by that casual invitation to the leading country house hotel for miles around.
‘Don’t be impractical. You must be as eager for a shower and a break as I am,’ he pointed out. ‘In little more than four hours I have to be back at the house to meet the insurance assessors and the conservation team being put together as we speak.’
‘I’ll be fine here,’ she asserted.
‘You would genuinely prefer to sit here unwashed and cold rather than accompany me to a more civilised and comfortable location?’