Mistress of Deception

It seemed hidden barbs were far more effective than meat cleavers, Ebony decided when she saw Alan's smile fade. But the icy fury that slipped into his eyes was unnerving, till she remembered he couldn't do a single damned thing in front of his mother. All she had to do to protect herself was keep Mrs Carstairs in full view for the entire evening.

The woman herself was at that moment looking a touch confused. Possibly she sensed the dark undercurrents between her son and his ward and

wasn't quite sure how to take them. 'I... I only wanted to try to get you two to make up,' she said unhappily. 'Life's too short to be on bad terms when it's not necessary. Both of you have far too much pride!'

'Pride, Mother? Ebony has no pride.'

'Alan!'

'I only meant that I've never met a more modest model,' he amended with mock-apology. 'She has no conception of her extraordinary beauty, of the effect she has on the opposite sex. Why, only the other night, the chap sitting next to me at the fashion awards could hardly contain his drooling. It's amazing that she keeps such a cool head about her when so many men are willing to throw themselves at her feet.'

Her laughter was almost genuine. Alan throwing himself at her feet was a delightful image to contemplate. Too bad it would never be true.

'Ebony has always been a very sensible girl,' his mother praised. 'Now why are we standing around out here when we could be comfortable in the living- room? Dinner will be ready shortly, dear,' she went on as she linked arms with Ebony. 'And don't take any notice of Alan's stirring. He's out of practice being nice to you, I can see. Let's hope he finds his manners before the end of the evening.'

Now it was Alan who laughed, the sardonic sound drawing a frowning backwards glance from Ebony. Immediately, their eyes locked, Alan's narrowed gaze promising all sorts of punishments for her, if and when he got the chance. 'Don't be concerned, Mother,' he called after them. 'By the end of the evening, butter won't melt in my mouth.'

CHAPTER FOUR

BY THE end of the evening, Alan wished he had died and gone to hell. Hell, he decided, was far preferable to sitting a few feet away from that witch, watching her eat, smelling that damned tantalising perfume she always wore, and not being able to touch her.

Perhaps if his subterfuge of being here when she hadn't expected it had really rattled her, he might have found some satisfaction, despite his own dis- comfort. But there she sat, unaware—or maybe very aware—of his torment, chatting away to his mother while throwing him the odd crumb of a casual comment every now and then, as well as the occasional glance.

Yes, he decided, hard blue eyes narrowing on that perfect profile. She was aware. Why else would she slide those seductive eyes his way with such sly regularity, if not to check that he was looking at her, wanting her, needing her?

Bitch, he thought as his loins began to ache. What I wouldn't give to wipe that cool composure from her face, to ravage those lush red lips as they deserve to be ravaged. He almost groaned aloud at the mental image that flashed into his mind. For he'd never experienced a woman as wild in bed as Ebony could be. Or as abandoned.

Which was her fascination, of course, he finally accepted. Why else was he compelled to keep coming back to her for more when there was no love lost between them, when she made no concessions to his male ego, when she didn't bother to hide her contempt for him?

Contempt"?

He frowned darkly into his coffee, having never thought of Ebony's feelings for him in quite such derisive terms before. Oh, he knew she hated him. But he'd always imagined that was a reverse reaction to the schoolgirl crush she'd once harboured, a pride thing. No one liked being rejected as he'd once rejected her. Yet underlying that hate had remained the chemistry that had flared between them that night in the library, a chemistry that had survived their mutual antagonism.

It was a very explosive chemistry, Alan conceded ruefully. Explosive and volatile, sometimes bordering on violent. One day, he suspected it would totally self-destruct. In fact, it was probably heading for that moment right now...

'What do you think, Alan?'

Alan blinked once before focusing on the object of his mental rummaging. She was looking at him with wide, almost innocent eyes, her head tipped sideways as she had used to do as a young girl.