War of Love

She looked across at him with narrowed eyes. 'At the moment the only thing I can think of in connection with that marriage is that it somehow makes the two of us related—and I can't see that as any sort of benefit at all!' In fact, quite the opposite. Especially with the physical effect this man, unwillingly, had on her! Coming into contact with him on a regular basis was—well, it was unthinkable.

'No?' Lyon arched dark brows. 'Is that why Henry has been extolling the genius of your jewellery designs?'

Silke looked at him sharply, frowning deeply. 'As far as I'm aware, Henry hasn't seen any of my designs ...' What on earth was Lyon talking about?

'Exactly,' Lyon drawled.

Her frown deepened. 'What do you mean?'

He shook his head derisively. 'Henry wouldn't need to have seen your designs to have decided you're a genius—as far as he's concerned at the moment, anyone connected with his wonderful Satin can do no wrong!' And it was obvious he didn't share his uncle's opinion—in fact, the opposite!

Silke's mind was racing; why on earth had Henry been praising her jewellery designs—designs she was positive he hadn't even seen! Surely he couldn't—he wouldn't----- She looked up at Lyon with wide,

startled eyes as she realised that Henry would!

Lyon raised mocking brows, grey eyes scathing. 'Don't tell me you aren't aware of the fact that Henry believes Buchanan's should branch out with its own jewellery designs?' he scorned.

Her stomach lurched, her face paling; Henry had! Oh, God! Of course she had had no idea. She wouldn't have let Henry... Let him? It wasn't a question of letting Henry do anything, he was turning out to be as arrogantly determined to have his own way as his nephew was, albeit in a more charmingly persuasive way. She was sure it hadn't been her mother's idea to go off and get married in the way they were; her mother had been quite prepared to fight Lyon herself on his own terms. Henry's determinedly persuasive hand had to have been behind that move too, Silke was sure of it. Henry's only saving grace at the moment, as far as Silke was concerned, was that she didn't doubt his love for her mother, or that he would do everything in his power to ensure her happiness. Including setting her daughter up in business...!

Lyon's gaze raked over her appraisingly, finally settling on the now pale beauty of her face. 'I don't recall ever seeing you wear jewellery yourself...?' he finally said pointedly.

Her designs were more of the chunky costume jewellery kind, not the sort of thing she could wear in the day with jeans and T-shirts, her usual daytime wear. Besides, the state of her personal finances, she couldn't even afford to produce samples of her designs in the gold and silver needed. But Buchanan's could... No! She had no intention of encouraging Henry in this mad scheme. Of opposing Lyon...

'I-----' She broke off her protest as the telephone on her desk began to ring for the second time during this meeting.

Lyon scowled his displeasure at the interruption. 'I thought I told your secretary no more calls?' And he wasn't used to having his instructions disobeyed, his tone clearly implied.

And normally Jackie wouldn't have dreamt of dis obeying them either, which told Silke there had to be a good reason for her having done so now. Her mother calling again... ? Didn't she know Lyon well enough to realise Silke wouldn't have managed to get rid of him yet?

She almost panicked completely as Lyon, tiring of waiting for her to answer the call, reached out for the receiver, and she snatched it up herself first, avoiding his gaze as she turned away. 'Yes, Jackie?' she responded huskily.

'Silke,' Jackie sounded breathless herself. 'James is on the line.'

James? James...! Her James? No, not her James, not if it was the same James who had walked out of her life a year ago and married someone else on the eve of their own wedding. It couldn't be that James!

'James Cameron, Silke,' Jackie instantly confirmed that indeed it could be! 'And he says it's urgent that he talk to you,' she added by way of explanation for this interruption when she had been given clear instructions, albeit by Lyon Buchanan, not to put any more calls through.

Urgent? After almost a year of complete silence James had found something urgent to talk to her about? He had to be joking! Besides, whatever his problem was, she certainly had no intention of taking his call now, not with Lyon Buchanan sitting across the desk from her so watchfully.

'Get his telephone number and tell him I'll call him back, Jackie,' she instructed—God, was that shaky voice really hers?

But maybe she could be excused that; this was cer-tainly turning out to be a traumatic day, with first Lyon on the warpath, and now James on the telephone—for goodness' knew what reason. Perhaps he wanted them to get together to celebrate what should have been the first anniversary of their wedding-day? God, she was becoming hysterical now, she realised; but how else could she feel in the circumstances? Today was turning into a nightmare!

'I would have reprimanded her for her inefficiency,' Lyon rasped once Silke had put down the receiver.

'Well, that's where we differ,' Silke replied without her usual fight where this man was concerned—she was still shaken by James's call. A year, a whole year of silence; why was he calling her now? He had been away on his honeymoon with someone else when she had cancelled their wedding, their honeymoon, sent back the unwanted wedding gifts; he hadn't wanted to know, hadn't cared about her pain, her humiliation, her-----

'Him?' Lyon prompted, grey eyes narrowed ques-tioningly on the paleness of her face when Silke looked up at him almost dazedly.

She frowned, swallowing hard. What had the two of them been talking about before her telephone call from James? She had no intention of telling Lyon who 'him' was! She could all too easily imagine his derision if she told him about James, her ex-fiance' who had married someone else on the eve of their wedding!

She forced her expression to become coolly dismissive. 'I believe we were discussing Henry's interest in my jewellery designs,' she prompted pointedly.

'No,' Lyon said slowly. 'We were discussing the fact that you never wear jewellery yourself.' His narrowed gaze moved to the bareness of her hands as they rested on the desktop.

Was it her imagination, or did that all-seeing gaze rest more intently on the bareness of her left hand, where until a year ago an emerald and diamond engagement ring had nestled on the third finger? A ring that had been returned to James along with everything else once the wedding had been cancelled; she hadn't wanted anything left in her flat to remind her of James and their engagement. She could still remember the feeling of desolation as she parcelled up the box that had contained all her memories of the years she had spent with James; it had seemed so little to show for three years of her life. And now, with one simple telephone call, the memories were back... At a time when she could least deal with it; Lyon Buchanan was seated opposite her, obviously on the warpath!

And even though she was sure there could be no evidence that she had once worn an engagement ring on her left hand, the indentation that had once been there having long gone, she found herself putting that hand beneath the desk, where Lyon could no longer see it.

'You're quite wrong,' she told Lyon coolly now. 'I often wear jewellery; you've just never met me in the right setting to see me wearing it.' Even as she said it, Silke winced, remembering all too vividly—as she was sure Lyon did!—the circumstances in which they had first met; she had been wearing very little on that occasion, and certainly no jewellery.

Lyon looked at her thoughtfully, grey eyes narrowed. 'Then perhaps I should rectify that,' he finally said slowly.

Silke gave him a startled look. 'What do you mean?'

He shrugged those broad shoulders. 'It seems I can do little to stop this wedding between my uncle and your mother—so perhaps the two of us should have dinner together this evening to celebrate their marriage.'

Silke looked at him suspiciously; why had he suddenly changed from opposing the marriage to suggesting they go out and celebrate it? He was suddenly being altogether too pleasant—and Silke distrusted this mood even more than she did his outright objectionable one.

She shook her head. 'I don't think so-----'

'Frightened, Silke?' he taunted softly.

She frowned at the suggestion. 'Of what?'

'Me,' he derided, brows raised mockingly.

And suddenly she was—of the fact that he realised how physically vulnerable she was towards him. And why shouldn't he? She had hardly beaten him off with a stick on the occasions he had taken her into his arms and kissed her!

Both her hands were beneath the desktop now—to hide the fact that they were shaking. First James, and now this man; it was too much in one day!

She forced herself to meet his gaze unflinchingly. 'I'm not frightened of you, Lyon.' Her voice was steady too, determinedly so.

He gave an acknowledging nod of his head, his mouth quirked mockingly. 'In that case-----' he stood up in one fluid movement '—I take it you have no objection to joining me for dinner this evening? I'll pick you up-----'

'Now just a minute,' Silke cut in hastily. 'I'm not frightened of you, Lyon—why on earth should I be?' she added with impatient dismissal. 'But neither do I want to have dinner with you, tonight or at any other time,' she said exasperatedly.

He towered over her, looking down at her, those dark brows still mockingly raised. 'Careful, Silke,' he taunted. 'You're starting to sound like a woman who protests too much! Now I suggest-----'

‘That must be a novelty for you!' she snapped impatiently.