War of Love

by Carole Mortimer

  Lyon drew in a deeply controlling breath. 'Henry didn't have your permission to show them, did he?' he said slowly, eyes narrowed thoughtfully on her flushed face.

  'Of course he didn't,' she snapped. 'I told him exactly what I thought of the idea of my designs being introduced at Buchanan's!'

  Lyon nodded. 'Because you genuinely don't believe your designs are good enough—or because of me?'

  The colour deepened in her cheeks. 'Of course my designs are good enough-----' She broke off abruptly, her gaze challenging as she saw the derision in his face at her admission of its being him that was the problem.

  Well, she would be lying if she claimed otherwise; no one in their right mind, in normal circumstances, would pass up the opportunity to market their jewellery designs in a prestigious store like Buchanan's. And she might not be a lot of things, but she was definitely in her right mind. But these were not normal circumstances, and she had no in­tention of using her new family connection to achieve that end.

  'So it's me,' Lyon said softly.

  'Not for the reason you think!' she denied heatedly.

  Dark brows rose over silver-grey eyes. 'And what reason do I think?' he challenged evenly.

  'Look, Lyon-----' she stood up, moving away from him, needlessly tightening the belt on her towelling robe '—I don't feel like playing games-----'

  'I'm not playing games, Silke.' He had stood up too, was now standing dangerously close behind her. Dangerously. Because when he was this close to her Silke couldn't even think straight, let alone try and match him in a verbal way. 'Why am I such a problem to you?'

  'You aren't a—problem—to—me...' She had spun round to vehemently deny the claim—only to then re­alise just how close Lyon was, standing only inches away from her now, Silke staring up at him with widely apprehensive eyes.

  He reached out to touch the heat of one of her cheeks with cool fingertips. 'I don't think that's exactly true, Silke,' he murmured huskily. 'And you're certainly a problem for me,' he added gruffly.

  She swallowed hard, mesmerised by his darkly powerful face. 'I am?' she said breathlessly, com­pletely unable to move away from the caress of his hand.

  'You are,' he nodded, his gaze locked with hers.

  She moistened suddenly dry lips—instantly stopping the action when she saw how his gaze darkened at the movement. 'Why?'

  He gave a half-smile, slightly self-derisive. 'You've been a problem for me since the moment I first saw you at the store in that ridiculous bunny girl costume!' He shook his head at the memory.

  Silke still cringed at the thought of that day. 'I can't go on apologising for that mistake for the rest of my life-----'

  'I wasn't asking you to apologise,' Lyon dismissed lightly. 'I don't think you-----'

  'Am I interrupting something?'

  Silke spun round self-consciously at the sound of Henry's voice, realising as she saw the speculation in curious grey eyes how damning the situation must look with Lyon and herself standing close together like this, Lyon's hand still resting against her cheek, a cheek now grown even warmer in her feeling of awkwardness.

  'I thought I might join the two of you for a swim,' Henry continued drily, holding up his towel as proof of his claim. 'But I can see I'll just be in the way,' he added with some amusement.

  It was totally the wrong thing for him to say as far as Silke was concerned. After what he had done last week, how dared he come in here talking in that in­dulgently patronising tone, implying—well, just im­plying! The last thing she wanted was for Henry to get the wrong impression about Lyon and herself; she would never hear the end of it, from either Henry or her mother.

  She moved pointedly away from Lyon, deliberately not looking at him now either, although she could sense his gaze on her. She glared at Henry. 'You aren't in the way at all, Henry,' she bit out tautly. 'In fact, you're just the person I wanted to see!'

  'Oh, dear,' he grimaced, frowning. 'I recognise that light of battle in your eyes, Silke; you look just the way your mother did at eighteen.'

  'I probably feel the same way my mother did at eighteen!' she snapped impatiently. 'You un­doubtedly walked all over her feelings too!'

  Henry's frown deepened. 'What have I done now?'

  'I should take care if I were you, Henry,' Lyon drawled, stepping back—as if he were about to stand back and enjoy watching the show. 'You're standing on very shaky ground. And, actually, in this case, I happen to agree with Silke,' he added seriously.

  She looked at him in surprise. 'You do?'

  His mouth quirked with humour. 'I do,' he con­firmed drily.

  She gave him a frustrated glare before turning away to look at Henry again, the anger still in her face. 'You and Mummy had no right to take my designs out of my flat-----'

  'Ah,' Henry gave a guilty grimace. 'But Silke, we were only thinking of you,' he added in a cajoling tone. 'Your designs are brilliant; I don't know why someone hasn't snapped them up years ago. And-----'

  'Stop the flattery, Henry,' she cut in forcefully. 'You had no right doing what you did without my per­mission!' Her eyes flashed deeply green.

  'It's probably a criminal offence,' Lyon put in softly.

  It was his uncle's turn to glare now. 'You stay out of this, Lyon,' Henry snapped.

  'Just pointing out a relevant fact,' Lyon shrugged, the amusement still in his eyes.

  'Just enjoying yourself, you mean,' his uncle ac­cused in a disgruntled voice.

  Lyon gave another dismissive shrug, moving to sit on one of the loungers. 'Don't mind me,' he invited lightly, looking up at the two of them as Silke and Henry faced each other across the pool like adversaries.

  Which, as far as Silke was concerned, at this moment, they were. But, nevertheless, she had no in­tention of putting on a show for Lyon. No matter how angry she was with Henry!

  'I have no intention of even discussing this further,' she bit out tautly, that angry flush still in her cheeks. 'I think what you and Mummy did was despicable,' she told Henry with feeling.

  'I agree,' Lyon put in softly.

  'And as for you-----' Silke turned on him furiously

  '—I don't even want to hear the offer you were going to make me! We both know it actually has nothing to do with my designs, and neither of us owes the other anything just because of what happened be­tween us last week.' She was breathing hard in her deep agitation.

  What Lyon was doing was tantamount to 'payment for services rendered'—an obligation he felt because of her innocence before that night!

  'What happened between the two of you last week?' Henry put in curiously.

  Silke looked at him with stricken eyes, realising exactly what she had done; Henry was nothing if not determined, and she doubted he would let this go now that he sensed there was more to Silke's relationship to Lyon than either he or her mother could have possibly guessed. But that was Lyon's problem. She was getting out of here, as far away from these two men as possible!

  But before she could make a move, Lyon spoke. 'Mind your own business,' he told the older man coldly.

  'But-----'

  'Stay out of this, Henry.' Lyon stood up, turning to Silke now, the coldness leaving his expression. 'Silke, we-----'

  ‘There isn't a "we",' she told him heatedly. Not a business "we", and certainly not a personal one! Just leave me alone!'

  'Silke-----'

  'I said leave me alone, Lyon,' she bit out ve­hemently, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. 'Just stay away from me. Both of you!' she warned before turning and running from the poolside.

  And she wanted to keep on running and never stop!

  CHAPTER TEN

  'Hello, Silke.'

  'Go away, Lyon.' She closed the door back in his face, wishing she had never opened it in the first place; she should have guessed who it was ringing her doorbell! She had only returned from Henry's house just over an hour ago; she should have realised that Lyon's arrogance wouldn't allow him to be dismissed in the angry way she
had done.

  But Lyon moved quicker than she did, putting his foot inside the door, making it impossible for her to completely close it, a determined expression on his face.

  Silke stood her ground, keeping the door closed as far as it would go. 'I said go away, Lyon,' she told him forcefully.

  He met her gaze steadily, his expression grim now. 'I want to talk to you,' he bit out harshly.

  Her head went back defensively. 'And it must be obvious that I have nothing to say to you.'

  Lyon shook his head. 'We have a lot to say to each other.'

  'I don't think so,' she bit out tersely.

  'Silke-----'

  'Please go, Lyon,' she said, more desperately this time; if he didn't go away soon she was going to cry.

  She had left Henry's house earlier as if the devil were on her heels, had just wanted to get away from both men. And she didn't feel any more like dealing with Lyon now than she had then; she needed time to herself, to think, to try to sort out what she was going to do with her life. One thing she did know: she couldn't stay on here in London; she would have to make a complete break, otherwise she would never be free of seeing Lyon. And having to constantly deal with her feelings for him.

  'For God's sake let me in, Silke,' he muttered as her neighbour across the hallway came out of his flat, the man looking at them curiously as he did so.

  It irritated her that she was being manipulated in this way, but she accepted they must look rather odd, her standing so defensively in her half-open doorway, Lyon so arrogantly demanding on her doorstep.

  She opened the door reluctantly, moving back into her sitting-room. Two minutes, she promised herself, and then he was going to leave again. Anything they had to say to each other could be said in that time!

  'You're going away.' Lyon bit the statement out harshly.

  She turned almost guiltily, groaning inwardly as she saw that she had left her bedroom door open, her open case on the bed, clothes strewn across the bed as she haphazardly decided what she was going to take away with her. She had decided on the drive back home that she would have to go away for a couple of days anyway, just to distance herself from this whole situation. And from the look on Lyon's face he wasn't at all pleased at the idea of her going anywhere. Tough!

  'Yes,' she answered challengingly. 'I-----' She broke off as the doorbell rang. If that was her mother or Henry-----!

  Lyon looked far from pleased at the interruption too, glaring after Silke as she went to answer the door. As she opened the door and saw who her visitor was Silke knew he was going to be even more furious. She wasn't too pleased herself!

  Not again! She couldn't believe this; she hadn't seen James for a year, and now he had appeared at her door twice in a week—and both times Lyon had been here too. And Lyon would never believe it was simply coincidence. Though what did it matter what Lyon believed? It was none of his business who chose to visit her!

  'Hello, Silke,' James greeted slightly awkwardly. 'I just-----'

  'You again!' Lyon rasped accusingly, having moved to stand just behind Silke without her having been aware of it, looking arrogantly over the top of her head at the other man now, cold anger in glittering grey eyes. 'Don't you have a wife to go home to?' he added challengingly.

  Silke gasped at his bluntness—but then, when had Lyon ever been anything else? 'Lyon, I don't think-----' she began.

  'No, you obviously aren't thinking at all,' he bit out contemptuously, his mouth curled back in a half-sneer. 'You lied to me earlier, Silke,' he said coldly. 'It's obvious now exactly who you're going away with. You silly little fool, don't you realise-----?'

  'Hey, I don't think you should be talking to Silke like that,' James gave a perplexed frown.

  'You stay out of this,' Lyon told the other man with dismissive arrogance, eyes glittering a warning before he turned to Silke. 'When you come to your senses, my offer may no longer be available,' he warned her harshly.

  Her head went back defensively. 'Which offer would that be?'

  His mouth tightened. 'Both of them'.'

  'I'm not interested in either of them!' She shook her head, meeting his gaze with steady determination.

  He glanced contemptuously at the still slightly puzzled James, before turning back to Silke. 'I just hope you know what you're doing,' he bit out force­fully, shaking his head—as if he were absolutely sure she couldn't possibly know.

  'I know exactly what I'm doing, Lyon,' she told him with certainty. 'Now, if you wouldn't mind, I have my packing to finish,' she added pointedly.

  He drew in a harshly angry breath. 'God, Silke, you-----'

  'Goodbye, Lyon,' she cut in firmly; if he didn't soon leave her legs were going to buckle beneath her and she was going to collapse in a heap on the carpet at his feet!

  He gave James a coldly quelling glare before looking back at Silke. 'Your family will still be here for you when you decide you need them again—which I don't think will be too far in the future!' he added with another disgusted glance in James's direction.

  'My family!' She almost choked over the statement; a week ago this man had been fighting any con­nection with her at all; now he claimed to be part of her family! The man was incredible!

  'Yes, family, Silke,' he echoed challengingly.

  Silke couldn't be bothered to argue with him any more, especially in front of James; but 'family' was the last thing she considered Lyon to be. And he must have a very short memory himself if he really thought he could claim that! And she knew damn well there was nothing wrong whatsoever with Lyon's memory.

  'Goodbye, Lyon,' she said almost wearily.

  'Is there nothing I can say to make you change your mind about this?' His tone had softened slightly. 'Silke, you know what happened before, and the situ­ation is so much worse now. Please think about what you're doing.' The last was added almost gently.

  She knew he believed her to be going away with James, and she could see how displeased he was at that idea, and part of her wanted to tell him that she wasn't doing that at all. But the sensible side of her knew it would achieve nothing, that she had to go away anyway, and perhaps it was better, for the moment, to let Lyon go on believing she was leaving with James. She would tell her mother the truth, ob­viously, wouldn't let her worry unnecessarily.

  'I've thought, Lyon,' she told him huskily. 'And this is what I want.'

  His mouth tightened again. 'Very well,' he bit out harshly before walking to the door. But he didn't leave straight away, stopping in front of James, looking coldly at the younger man. 'Take care of her, Cameron. Or this time you'll have me to answer to,' he added ominously.

  Silke frowned after him as he finally left. Part of her had been resentful of his slightly possessive tone. The rest of her had felt the warmth of her love for him. And it was the latter she had to fight now; Lyon didn't love her, just felt he had some sort of pro­prietorial right to her because of what had happened between them.

  She suddenly became aware of James's curious look, and attempted to shake off her gloom con­cerning Lyon as she returned James's gaze.

  He grimaced. 'Bad timing again!'

  Her mouth twisted. 'You could say that.'

  James nodded. 'Who is that man?'

  She stiffened. 'Is it important?'

  He shrugged. 'Not if you don't want to tell me. And why should you?' he dismissed self-derisively. 'I actually only called round to tell you that Cheryl and I are all right again now. After last week I thought I owed you that at least,' he added sheepishly. 'You must think I'm a complete idiot!'

  'Come in, James,' she invited wearily, wondering how she had ever thought this man was strong and capable; he had behaved like a hurt little boy this last couple of weeks, wanting to get back the toy he had given up because the one he really wanted had de­cided not to play for a while. 'Can I get you a cup of tea or something?' she offered once he had come in and closed the door behind him.

  'No, thanks. Cheryl will be expecting me home soon,' he added with a
self-conscious grimace.

  Silke nodded. 'I'm glad the two of you have sorted things out.'

  'I behaved like an idiot last week, didn't I?' He sighed. 'It's just that things were so awful between Cheryl and me, and then I began to wonder if I hadn't made a mistake giving you up, and-----'

  'It really doesn't matter, James,' she cut in dismiss-ively. 'There's no harm done. Ether with me or Cheryl,' she added ruefully.

  'I was obviously wasting my time with you.' He nodded.

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

  He gave her an affectionate smile. 'You love that man Lyon, don't you?'

  'No, I-----' She broke off her vehement denial as

  James gave her a look of teasing reproval. 'Maybe,' she conceded tautly.

  James grinned at her now, obviously elated at having his marriage back again, his avowals of love for Silke only a week ago completely forgotten, and his anger at her rejection too. 'Not maybe, Silke, definitely!' he teased. 'And he obviously feels the same way-----'

  'No, he doesn't,' she cut in determinedly.

  'No?' James questioned derisively. 'Then why does he act like a jealous lover every time he sees me?'

  Colour warmed her cheeks at having Lyon de­scribed as her lover. Because that was what he had been. Her only lover.

  'Ah,' James said knowledgeably.

  Silke looked at him frowningly. 'What do you mean, "ah"?'

  He shook his head. 'I really am sorry for behaving like an idiot last week, Silke.' He walked to the door. 'Send me an invitation to the wedding, won't you?' he added teasingly as he prepared to leave. 'It probably wouldn't be a good idea for me to come, but at least the invitation will tell me the two of you have sorted things out. And I would like to think of you being happy, Silke,' he added huskily.

  'Not with Lyon,' she told him firmly, shaking her head.

  'We'll see,' he returned enigmatically. 'And the first thing you ought to do is let him know that you aren't going away with me!'