A Scandal Made in London

‘I’ve never been surer of anything.’

‘I could prove you wrong.’ His gaze dropped to her mouth and her breath caught in her throat. ‘Easily.’

And now she did take a step back. ‘I would advise against it,’ she said with a tiny jut of her chin, even though every inch of her was demanding he get on with it. ‘Anyway, I don’t believe you.’

His gaze snapped back up, a deep scowl creasing his brow. ‘What, exactly, don’t you believe?’

‘You wouldn’t let a little thing like desire get in the way of this deal.’

‘It’s hardly little.’

‘You know what I mean,’ she said, refusing to get distracted by thoughts of what exactly he might be referring to. ‘This is nothing more than a diversionary tactic. Something else was bothering you. I know it. I know you.’

As if she’d dumped a bucket of cold water over his head, the heat left his gaze and his expression turned stony and forbidding. A chill ran through her and she shivered.

‘You know nothing, Kate,’ he said icily, ‘and you most certainly don’t know me.’

‘Then talk to me.’

‘There’s nothing to talk about.’

And quite suddenly Kate had had enough. If Theo couldn’t see that this weekend would go a whole lot better if they worked as a team then that was his lookout. What did it matter if he didn’t want to tell her what troubled him? They were nothing. She didn’t need to know. In fact, it was probably better that she didn’t know, because the last thing she wanted was to develop sympathy for him. Or any kind of feelings, for that matter.

‘Okay, fine,’ she said with a shrug as a wave of weariness washed over her. ‘It’s late. I’m tired. And I give up. Have it your own way. I don’t care any more than you care about the fact that I’ve given up my weekend for this and for you and am therefore missing a visit to my sister for the first time in years. But you really ought to rethink your attitude, because I might have been able to cover for you tonight but I can’t keep doing it, and Daniel Bridgeman is no fool.’

Annoyed by the inexplicable disappointment rushing through her and now just wanting to be anywhere he wasn’t, Kate turned on her heel to head up the stairs. But as she did so the glass flew from her fingers and smashed into the wall, sending water flying before shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.

For a second she simply stood there staring at the broken glass lying on the floor, the echo of the crash bouncing off the walls, and then she snapped to. ‘Terrific,’ she muttered beneath her breath, stalking to the kitchen and yanking open cupboards in search of a dustpan and brush. Pregnancy induced clumsiness. Just what she needed.

But as she marched back and began to sweep up the glass, she caught a glimpse of Theo out of the corner of her eye, and something about what she saw made her stop. Straighten. And abandon the clearing up. Because he was utterly rigid. White. A bead of sweat was trickling down his temple and he didn’t appear to even notice.

‘Theo?’ she asked in alarm, her frustration with him suddenly history. ‘Are you all right?’

But he didn’t answer. He didn’t move a muscle. He seemed completely lost in his own world, and for some reason her heart squeezed. Before she could consider the wisdom of it and spurred on by an instinct she didn’t understand, she walked over to him, avoiding the remains of the shattered glass, and lifted her hand to touch his face.

And then he reacted.

With lightning-like reflexes he grabbed her wrist and held it. Kate let out a startled gasp and for the briefest of moments they, time, everything, froze. She could hear nothing but the thundering of her heart, could see nothing but his eyes, which burned with myriad emotions she couldn’t begin to identify.

And then a split second later the shutters slammed down and he let her go as if scalded and now it was her turn to remain rooted to the spot. She slowly lowered her arm and absently rubbed her wrist, but her entire body trembled and her mind reeled with the sickening suspicion that Theo’s reaction had been the instinctive response of someone anticipating a blow. Expecting it. And the unexpected tumult of emotion that rushed through her at the thought stole her breath.

‘So. Nothing to talk about, huh?’ she said quietly when she could finally speak, her heart hammering and her entire body filling with a sudden and inexplicable burning rage towards whoever was responsible for it.

‘Go to bed, Kate.’

* * *

As he watched Kate head slowly up the stairs and then disappear into the bedroom, the door closing behind her with a quiet click, Theo felt the icy numbness fade and into its place stormed such revulsion, horror and repugnance that his knees nearly gave way. The room spun around him and he couldn’t breathe.

He’d grabbed her wrist, was the thought hammering around his head as his pulse pounded and his gut churned. Not tightly. But definitely firmly. He’d acted on instinct. He’d lost control. Not once in the years since he’d walked out of the squalid flat he’d grown up in had it happened. There’d been triggers, the occasional flash of memory, but he’d handled them. However, not so just now, and if he’d ever doubted the wisdom of his decision to stay away from Kate and the child that doubt was gone for ever. A better man would send her home.

What could she possibly think of what had happened? She had to be horrified. Maybe even terrified of what he might be capable of. At the very least she had to have questions. And since he wasn’t a better man and he wasn’t going to send her home, he had to give her the answers. He had no option. Despite every cell of his body rejecting the idea, he owed her an explanation. She had a right to know about the genes he carried and he couldn’t have her looking at him with apprehension and uncertainty for the next forty-eight hours. He needed to clear the air. He needed to give her reassurance. Now.

Setting his jaw and galvanising into action while his brain shut down everything but the cold bare facts,

Theo took the steps two at a time and banged on the door. ‘Kate?’

‘Come in.’