sion in Miles that had been in her sister’s husband?
She shifted slightly on the seat, brushing a wisp of hair from her face. But at least her father had had some excuse for acting as he had, or not an excuse, exactly, she corrected herself, but a reason behind his actions that explained his obsessive peremptoriness with her mother. And he had loved her too, tortured and twisted as that love had become. Miles had been the original spoilt little rich kid, the adored and indulged only son whose every whim had been granted since birth.
‘You haven’t left him behind yet, have you?’ The voice at her side was very quiet, and as Rosalie’s eyes shot up to meet his Kingsley covered her hand with one of his own, refusing to let go of it when she tried to pull away. ‘He’s right here now, isn’t he?’ he said softly. ‘The silent spectre at our shoulders.’
Rosalie’s stomach clenched. She looked away, her mouth unconsciously tightening. How come he could read her mind?
‘Do you still love him?’ Kingsley said evenly.
‘Love him?” It carried such distaste Kingsley couldn’t doubt her antipathy.
So, he’d been barking up the wrong tree there. He knew a second of quick relief, before the question of what was wrong kicked in. ‘So you don’t still care for him. Why is he such a big deal in your life, then?’
‘I told you before, I don’t want to talk about Miles,’ she said shakily, her voice refusing to obey the command to be firm and cool. ‘I’m cold, let’s go in.’
‘No, you’re not,’ he challenged softly, squeezing her hand as he spoke. ‘And I’m just trying to understand where you’re coming from, that’s all. I don’t want to drag up painful memories for the sake of it, but right from the first moment I met you there’s always been a silent third party present. I didn’t know what the problem was at first, but it’s him, the ex, isn’t it?’
He felt the withdrawal even though she hadn’t moved a muscle and he knew he was right. He also knew he was getting in way over his head. This wasn’t the way he did things. He cursed himself for being a fool. He had done the love and commitment thing once and had been left with enough egg on his face to keep him in omelettes for the rest of his life.
‘You’ve no right to question me like this.’
She was damn right, he hadn’t. ‘Yes, I have,’ he said grimly. ‘You’re here right now with me, not him, and I don’t like threesomes.’
The control thing again. He couldn’t have said anything worse as far as she was concerned. They were all the same under the skin, the whole male race, apart from the occasional being from another planet like George. ‘I didn’t invite you to be here, remember?’ she bit back harshly.
‘Do you want me to leave?’ he asked grimly.
Did she? It was a drenching shock to find out it was the last thing in all the world she wanted, and it caused her to say, her voice quivering despite all her efforts to control it, ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I want.’
The world was motionless, and then with a low growl of irritation he took her into his arms. He kissed her over and over until her weak, fluttering protests faded, each kiss deeper and hungrier than the one before, and somehow she found herself lying on his lap with her hands clinging to his shoulders. And still he kissed her. His mouth was warm and wonderfully experienced and his arms were strong, the heat between them explosive.
It was Beth’s voice calling from the house that eventually brought them apart, Rosalie blinking and staring at him with huge drugged eyes as he raised his head. ‘You don’t want me to leave,’ he whispered gently, his eyes so blue it hurt her to look into them. ‘Say it.’ He kissed the tip of her nose, a tender, curiously intimate caress. ‘Say it, Rosie.’
She looked at him. ‘I don’t want you to leave.’
‘Good.’ As Beth’s voice called again he stood up with her, lowering her gently to her feet before reaching down and handing her the crutches. ‘That’s good, because I had no intention of going away.’ He grinned at her, purposely breaking the spell that their lovemaking had woven round them because they had to go into the house and pretend the world hadn’t suddenly tilted and changed direction. ‘And for the rest of the weekend we’re just going to enjoy being in each other’s company and have fun,’ he added softly. ‘Okay? No more questions, no more big debates.’
She blinked again. He was like a human chameleon, changing his persona so swiftly and completely she couldn’t keep up with him, she thought helplessly.
And as though he had read her mind, his smile faded. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of,’ he said quietly. ‘We’re two adult people getting to know each other a little better and neither of us is hurting anyone else. What is wrong with that?’
Put like that, nothing. But one of the adults was Kingsley Ward, which took this into a vastly different ball game.
‘Come on.’ As though he had suddenly tired of the situation Kingsley’s voice was brisk. ‘I’m starving. I hope Beth’s a good cook.’
‘She’s a brilliant cook.’ This was safer ground. ‘Three super-intelligent children and a near genius husband inspired her to excel in the thing she’s always had a gift for, and her meals are second to none. Even your friend, Glen, would have a hard job to compete. And she’s something of a wine boff too.’
Kingsley smiled again, a very cat-with-the-cream smile. ‘I think I’m going to enjoy this weekend in more ways than one,’ he said softly. ‘Wine, woman and song.’
‘Shouldn’t that be wine, women and song?’ Rosalie said breathlessly, taking a second to stop and brush back the hair from her face as they walked to the house, her crutches proving a mixed blessing, as always.
He let his eyes roam over the high, rounded breasts, slender waist and long, long legs, before lifting his gaze to the beautiful face with its curtain of shining chestnut hair. ‘Not from where I’m standing,’ he said gruffly.
The meal was as delicious as Rosalie had promised, and, with the wine flowing as freely as the conversation, and even George cracking a couple of jokes and proving quite witty in Kingsley’s company, Rosalie found she was enjoying herself.
Kingsley had a way with people, she thought towards the dessert stage of the dinner, watching Beth positively bask in his appreciative comments about the food, which had actually prompted George to take a break from Planet Antiquity long enough to give his wife a rare compliment. But then Miles had always been able to charm the birds out of the trees too.
The thought was like a punch in the chest and she was angry with herself for letting Miles intrude into her thoughts once again. She hadn’t thought about him in a long time, and now it seemed he was at the back of her mind all the time, or, as Kingsley had said, a spectre at her shoulder. Was Kingsley like her ex?