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And the Bride Wore Black

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He sat down beside her, a strange expression on his face as his eyes rested on the small hand resting on his arm. He smiled slowly. ‘And you apologise when you’re wrong? You really are quite an enigma, Miss Fabia Grant. I’m not at all sure if it was a good day or a bad day for me when you blazed over my horizon.’

‘Blazed?’ She risked a shaky smile. There had been something in the deep voice, something tender, that she preferred not to dwell on. It stirred too many discarded dreams.

‘Definitely blazed,’ he said lazily. ‘You stood out from the other women like—’

‘Shall we eat?’ She broke in with a smile to soften the abruptness but she couldn’t listen to any more. Those had been the very words Robin had said to her all those years ago. ‘You stood out from the other women like an exotic flower in a field of daisies’. She hadn’t understood at the time that some men were fascinated by a challenge, the unattainable, but later, much later, how she had envied those daisies.

‘Sure.’ She sensed those sharp gold eyes missed nothing, but he accepted the change of conversation gracefully as he settled back in his seat. ‘The steak in red wine sauce is excellent here. George’s brother is a butcher and George gets preferential treatment for all the best cuts of meat. Care to try it?’

‘Thank you.’ She passed him the menu, her face enquiring. ‘Do you often eat here, then?’

‘I normally stop off and see old George if I’m down this way,’ he said blandly, his eyes narrowing on her surprised face. ‘I grew up in this neck of the woods, remember.’

‘Yes.’ She looked at him carefully. ‘Of course.’

‘You find that surprising?’ There was a soft note in his voice that warned her she was on dangerous ground and she hesitated for a moment before answering him.

‘Not exactly.’ She chose her words cautiously. ‘It’s just so different from your normal sort of place...that restaurant in London, you know...’ As her voice trailed away he didn’t move for a long moment, looking at her silently from frosted eyes.

‘No, I don’t know, Fabia. Do I take it you assume I’m the sort of clown who only likes to be seen in the right places? Who carries a social Who’s Who in his pocket? Is that it?’

It was so close to what she did think, how Robin had behaved, that a flood of betraying colour stained her cheeks pink.

‘I see.’ His voice was still cool and quiet but his eyes were deadly. ‘Charming. And how did you arrive at this delightful piece of supposition? No, let me guess.’ He held up his hand mockingly. ‘It’s none of my business, right?’

She stared at him miserably. The last couple of hours had been a wonderful start to the holiday!

‘Well, let’s just suppose, for a short while, that there are a few things about me you don’t know? Ridiculous, you’re thinking, but humour me.’ The contempt in his voice was matched only by the scorn in his face. ‘I am—surprise, surprise—quite normal in some respects. I eat, I sleep, I breathe and if you cut me I bleed.’ He smiled coldly. ‘I enjoy doing ordinary things,’ he continued, his voice lifted in exaggerated surprise. ‘I sometimes drive my own car, take the dogs for a walk, go to the pub. I even—’ he paused dramatically ‘—cook a meal for myself now and again. What? you’re asking. This leader of the social whirl, this heartless seducer of women—can this be true?’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘I work hard and I play hard and I don’t intend to apologise to you for either.’ She stared at him silently, quite unable to speak. ‘And for crying out loud stop looking at me like that!’

He moved so violently that his chair scraped harshly against the red tiles of the hearth, and as George raised his grizzled head in surprise Alex forced a smile to his face. ‘Two steaks in red wine, George, and a nice bottle of wine, OK?’

‘OK, Mr Cade. Ten minutes.’

Fabia sat in stunned silence for a few seconds more and then opened her mouth to speak at the same moment as she caught his eye. ‘Not a word, Fabia, not a word.’

She flushed angrily. ‘I was only—’

‘I said not a word.’ She suddenly understood how he controlled his empire. There was a savage ruthlessness in his voice that stopped her in her tracks. She didn’t dare speak! She was furious and she wanted to, but she didn’t dare. She glared at him nevertheless, her dark blue eyes flashing sparks. ‘And drink your coffee.’ There was a thread of amusement in the dark voice that seared her stretched nerves like fire. ‘You can rest assured that your objections, although not verbal, have been taken note of.’

They didn’t speak again until George brought their meal. Alex seemed perfectly calm and untroubled, his big body relaxed and easy and his dark, handsome face quiet. She, on the other hand, Fabia reflected bitterly, was as tight as a coiled spring! It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair!

The meal was delicious but she could only eat a small portion of the succulent meat a

nd one potato. There was a huge lump in her throat that defied all food and the churning in her stomach was rendering eating impossible.

‘What’s the matter?’ She became aware that his eyes were fixed on her face as she moved a piece of steak around on her plate for the umpteenth time. ‘Are you worried about meeting my grandmother?’

Your grandmother? For an awful moment she thought she had voiced her amazement out loud. His grandmother was the last person she was concerned about, she thought wryly as she looked into the tawny gold eyes. If she were Lucretia Borgia personified the lady would be a pussycat to handle beside this man.

‘I’m just not hungry,’ she answered quietly. ‘Too much breakfast.’

His eyes were frankly disbelieving. ‘You’ll be all right.’ He reached out a hand suddenly and touched her arm gently. ‘I told you, I won’t let any harm come to you.’ His eyes held hers in a tight grip. ‘Trust me.’ Her flesh tingled faintly where he’d touched.

‘I can’t.’ It was a faint whisper and for a long moment they were locked in a silent world of their own.

‘I could kill him.’ His voice was flat. ‘Whoever he was or is I could kill him. He’s here with us now, isn’t he?’

‘Please don’t,’ she said weakly. It wasn’t real, this concern, this caring. She lowered her eyes, stroking the top of her wine glass distractedly. She had been here before. She mustn’t forget. Physical attraction meant little to a man like him.



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