Glancing around the elegant room, he took in the heavily oak-panelled walls dating back to the sixteenth century. Like the bedroom he’d been shown to earlier to ‘freshen up’—which had most likely been code for ditching his leathers—the antique furniture was graceful and well-appointed. Given the state of the rest of the house and grounds that Dare had seen, he surmised that money wasn’t behind the old man’s invitation to his mother. Which left the possibility that he was ill and/or dying.
The thought didn’t stir an ounce of emotion in Dare at all. But the line of oil paintings mounted high on the walls? They were most likely his ancestors, he thought with distaste, and they gave him the creeps. He steeled himself against the unexpected need to search out a likeness. He was nothing like these people and never would be.
It was hard to imagine his mother running around here as a child. The place might be majestic and steeped in history, but it was completely devoid of laughter and lightness. And so alien to his own impoverished upbringing. Not that the wealth of the place bothered him. He could buy it a thousand times over if he wanted to.
He checked his watch, impatient to meet the old man who had unsettled his mother’s world once more. And his own, if the truth be told.
‘I apologise for keeping you waiting, sir.’ The butler who had shown him to his room earlier tipped his head as he stepped into the parlour.
Dare smiled at the man’s cordiality, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Fed up with waiting in his room like a good little schoolboy, Dare had prowled around the house on his own, finally being shown into this room by one of the servants.
‘Forget it,’ Dare said. His quarrel wasn’t with the butler so why make his life harder by being a jerk?
‘May I fix you a pre-dinner drink, sir?’
Dare turned away from a life-sized oil painting of a man in a bad wig. ‘Scotch. Thank you.’
He had no intention of staying for dinner but the butler didn’t need to know that either.
Dare gazed around at the book-lined walls, softly lit lamps, and matching damask sofas. A tartan throw rug caught his eye, the mix of autumn colours reminding him of the pool girl’s glorious mane of hair. She’d been absolutely beautiful, wild and pagan with that long, unbound mane splayed out against the bright green grass, and then she’d opened her eyes and he’d been jolted by the greyish-green hue that reminded him of the Spanish moss that grew on many of the trees back home. The combination was startling. Then there was her skin that had been creamy and, oh, so inviting to touch.
She had reminded him of the angel he and his mother used to place on top of their Christmas tree when he was a child. Her temper, though, had definitely not been angelic and his lips quirked as he recalled how her eyes had shot sparks at him whenever he’d riled her.
Something about her had made him want to get her all hot and bothered, even when she’d insulted him. Not that he had any time for the pool girl, he reminded himself. But still...he had no doubt as to how good those sweet curves of hers would have felt in his arms.
Catching the ludicrousness of his thoughts, Dare gave himself a mental slap-down. He was thirty-two years old, long past the age of mentally drooling about how a woman would feel in his arms. How she would taste on his lips. How he might find her once this business with his grandfather was done.
He took a swig of his drink. He was long past the age of chasing after women as well. Not that he’d ever had to do much of that. He’d always been good with his hands and had a strong attention to detail and the women had loved him for it. True, they often complained that he put work ahead of them, but he’d never claimed to be perfect.
He wondered yet again who had given the pool girl the expensive bauble she’d been so afraid she’d lost. No doubt a lover, but who? His grandfather? He nearly sprayed his Scotch at the thought. As if a gorgeous woman like that would have anything to do with a decrepit, old man.
A light sound outside the door caught his attention and he looked up as a white-haired, elegantly dressed gentleman entered the room.
Finally...
Dare took his grandfather all in at once. The tall build and broad shoulders, the lined face that was both proud and strong. He’d somehow expected his grandfather to look frail and sick and the fact that he didn’t was as irritating to him as his thoughts about the redhead.
Both men took a moment to appraise the other, Dare giving nothing away beneath the old man’s regard.
Let him look, he thought, and let him understand that I am not the weak man my father was. I don’t run from my responsibilities.
‘Dare.’ His grandfather said his name with an air of familiarity that rankled. ‘I’m so very pleased to meet you at last. Please forgive my absence when you first arrived. I would have rearranged my afternoon plans had I known you were arriving earlier.’
Dare didn’t respond. He had no intention of pretending any form of civility with this man who had thrown his mother out all those years ago.
His mouth tightened, his attention drawn to a subtle movement behind the old man. When he saw it was the pool girl it took all his effort to keep his expression implacable.
His eyes moved down the length of her. The wild, pagan angel was nowhere in sight. In her place stood a very regal, very sophisticated young woman in a simple knee-length black dress and high heels, her rich red hair swept back into a tight knot at the base of her skull. Not many women could wear a hairdo that severe. She could.
Her moss-green eyes returned his regard coolly and a muscle jumped in his jaw. She wasn’t the pool girl, that was for sure, which left the only other conclusion he had arrived at front and centre in his mind.
But surely not...
His grandfather turned to acknowledge her presence, his hand hovering at the small of her back as he guided her forward. ‘Please allow me to introduce you to Carly Evans. Carly, this is my grandson, Dare James.’
She gave his grandfather a quizzical glance and Dare’s jaw clenched at the unspoken communication between the two.
But surely yes...
This was definitely his grandfather’s mystery guest.
He could barely believe it was true. He was so caught off guard he nearly missed the way her eyes dropped nervously from his as she stepped forward to greet him. ‘Mr James.’ Her smile was a little tremulous and he was somehow gratified by her nervousness. He bet she wouldn’t insult him now. ‘I’m pleased to meet you.’
God, she really was stunning and he didn’t like the jolt of adrenaline that coursed through his blood at the sight of her. ‘Ms Evans, it’s a delight to see you again.’
Her eyes cut back to his with surprise. So she hadn’t told his grandfather about their meeting. How very interesting.
‘You’ve already met?’ Surprise crossed his grandfather’s craggy features as well and Dare was glad he wasn’t the only one in the room who was thrown off course here.
‘We ah...met earlier,’ the goddess hedged, her face blushing prettily. ‘I didn’t realise he was your grandson at the time. For some reason I thought he’d be younger. And English instead of American.’
There was only one reason a beautiful young woman would be sleeping with an old man like his grandfather and it left a sour taste in Dare’s mouth.
He remembered one time at Harvard when a woman had been playing both he and his room-mate at the same time. They’d both ditched her as soon as they found out. Dare had laughed that she’d wanted Liam for his money and Dare for his sexual prowess. Then they’d spent hours over beers arguing the point and debating the morality of women on the make.
No need to debate this woman’s morality. It was staring him in the face. Or rather gazing adoringly at his grandfather.
‘Perhaps you would have been a little nicer if you had known who I was,’ he suggested, wanting to ruffle her smooth feathers as she had ruffled
his.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘I wasn’t rude.’
Dare’s brow rose. ‘You were hardly welcoming, if I recall.’
‘You nearly ran me down.’
‘Ran you down?’ His grandfather’s brow furrowed with concern.
‘I got a fright when I didn’t hear the motorcycle...it was nothing,’ she assured him gently.
‘Then why bring it up?’ Dare asked pleasantly.
She frowned at him. ‘I didn’t. You did.’
‘Carly, are you sure you’re okay?’ His grandfather’s concern was like an annoying splinter under the skin.
‘Absolutely. Gregory broke his leash again and when I went to get him I wasn’t concentrating well enough.’
‘A woman who admits fault; be still my beating heart,’ Dare mocked softly.
She shot him a fiery look that left scorch marks across the silk rug between them. Dare smiled and watched, transfixed as she collected herself and reinstated her sophisticated façade. The transformation was quite something to behold.
‘I apologise if you thought I was in any way rude, Mr James,’ she said, as if a poker were rammed up her delectable backside. ‘It was not my intention.’
Not now that she knew who he was, anyway. She wouldn’t want to do anything to unsettle her gravy train.
‘Is that right?’ he said smoothly.
Her face coloured again and her little chin went up at the challenging note in his voice.
He trapped her gaze with his. Don’t mess with me, my little beauty, he silently warned. You’ll lose.
She blinked as if to say she had no idea what he was on about and he nearly applauded her for her acting skills.
Instead he dismissed her and set his chilly gaze on his grandfather. ‘Why is she here?’
His grandfather shifted uncomfortably. ‘Carly and I have taken to having a drink before dinner and as I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow I invited her to join us. I hope you don’t mind.’
For reasons he didn’t want to examine, Dare did. Very much. ‘And if I do?’ He asked, sipping his Scotch.
His deceptively amiable question froze the cool smile on Carly’s face.
His grandfather frowned. ‘Carly is...well, she’s a guest of mine,’ he finished lamely.
‘How nice for you.’ Dare ran his hand over the length of the tartan rug, noting the frown on Carly Evans’s face as he did so.
‘I can go.’ She moistened her lips with a nervous flicker of her pink tongue. ‘I don’t mind, really—’
‘Stay,’ Dare said, rethinking his position. It might actually be better to have her around to get a full picture of what was going on.
Her eyes darkened infinitesimally at the command. She obviously liked to be the one in charge.
So did he.
His grandfather cleared his throat to cut through the awkward silence and Dare watched him move to the drinks trolley. ‘Cointreau on ice, Carly?’
‘No, thank you,’ she husked, moving forward. ‘I’ll just have water but, here, let me get it. You sit down.’
The lady had expensive taste, Dare thought, but then he knew that from the ruby necklace, which was markedly absent. In fact she wasn’t wearing any jewellery to speak of. Had she not had time to put it on?
He watched as she fixed her own drink and poured tonic water for Benson without having to ask what he would like. How very comfortable it all was. The nubile, young woman playing up to the doddery old rich fool no doubt hoping he’d kick the bucket soon. Dare couldn’t help but acknowledge that he was disappointed. He’d somehow felt she had more substance to her.
Yeah, right. Substance. Was that what he was calling lust these days?
Nothing like a cold shot of reality to kill that bird dead.
He glanced at her ring finger. No diamond rock there. Obviously she still had some work to do yet.
He felt something primitive unfurl inside him. Something dark and dangerous. Disgust, he told himself. Every one of his senses had gone on high alert as soon as she had entered the room and he didn’t like it that he was so aware of her as a woman. Not when she was screwing his grandfather.
Just the thought of the two of them intimate made his stomach turn. Could a man even get it up at that age? A cynical smile touched the corner of Dare’s mouth. He certainly hoped so.
But he wasn’t here to think about his grandfather’s sordid sex life, he reminded himself. He was here to find out why Benson had contacted his mother, and he wouldn’t let himself get sidetracked by this wide-eyed mistress again.
‘As pleasant as this is,’ Dare mocked, facing off against his grandfather, ‘what I want to know is why you contacted my mother.’
A heavy silence followed his lethally soft words and it sent a chill down Carly’s spine.
When Benson had informed her that his grandson would be joining them for drinks Carly had thought he had meant Beckett, and she’d been pleased that she would be able to return his necklace to him and not have to worry about losing it.
Now she wished that it had been Beckett, because she had no idea how to deal with this arrogant American’s barely veiled hostility. She especially had no idea how to deal with the way her insides jolted with nervous heat every time he trained his piercing blue eyes on her.
The Baron inclined his head towards his grandson, a small sigh escaping past his lips. ‘I didn’t imagine this would be easy.’
Carly noted the aggressive stance in the younger man. He might now only be wearing faded denim jeans and a white T-shirt but he looked no less intimidating for it. In fact he looked even more so because now she could see that he was as leanly muscled as she had first imagined. And with black biker boots on his feet...
‘What did you imagine it would be?’ Dare asked the Baron with cold disdain.
‘Difficult,’ he acknowledged wryly.
‘Glad to see you’re a realist.’ His gaze homed in on the Baron like a shooter lining up a clay pigeon. ‘At first I thought you needed money but given the appearance of the place I’ve discounted that. Which leaves the possibility that you’re sick or dying. Not that you look it.’
A gasp escaped Carly before she could contain it. ‘That is so rude,’ she admonished, welcoming the bite of her temper in replace of her previous uncertainty.
Dare’s lethal gaze swung to hers, pinning her to the spot. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly, ‘what made you think I was talking to you?’
Oh! Carly refused to let him intimidate her. The Baron was her patient and it was her job to make sure he was well enough to undergo surgery to remove a brain tumour the size of a golf ball in two weeks’ time. He needed rest and relaxation, not animosity and outright aggression.
She would probably be able to add heart attack to his list of ailments if his grandson continued on in this vein.
‘You shouldn’t speak to anyone like that!’ she reproved.
‘It’s all right, Carly.’ The Baron patted her hand. ‘Dare has a right to feel angry. And from what I understand my grandson has a reputation for being ruthless, powerful, and relentless when he wants something.’ He listed the traits as if they were trophies to be shown off on a mantel, Carly thought with disgust. ‘It actually pleases me that he feels the need to defend Rachel.’
Carly tried to accept the Baron’s version of things. Rachel, she knew, was Dare’s mother, but other than that she didn’t know anything about their history.
Fortunately the butler chose that moment to enter quietly and announce that dinner was ready to be served.
‘Very good, Roberts.’ The Baron smiled, but Carly could see it was strained. ‘Dare, I was hoping that you might join us for the evening meal.’
Carly couldn’t believe he was extending an invitation, given the level of disrespect he had been shown.
If it was okay with her? Carly’s spine snapped straight. Why would he put this on her?
‘Of course it’s all right with me,’ she said, too brightly.
‘Very good.’ She felt the Baron’s relief as he exhaled. ‘Shall we adjourn to the dining room? I, for one, am very eager to find out what Mrs Carlisle has prepared in your honour, Dare, and I do so enjoy eating my food without indigestion. Roberts, if you would be so kind as to set another place at the table?’
‘Very good, sir.’
For a moment Carly thought—hoped—that Dare was going to change his mind, but then he shrugged.
‘I haven’t eaten anything decent since breakfast. Lead the way, old man.’
She felt the Baron tense as he cupped her elbow and she wanted to strangle Dare James with her bare hands. She was quite sure that whatever bad blood was between these men it didn’t warrant this level of disrespect.
Reminding herself that it really wasn’t any of her business, and that she was here for the Baron and the Baron alone, Carly let him lead her out of the room, acutely aware of Dare’s cold eyes on her as she moved past.
She was infinitely glad that she’d taken the time with her appearance before dinner. And she told herself that she hadn’t done so on the off chance that she’d run into this horrible stranger again...she’d done it because...yes, okay, she had wondered if she’d run into him in passing and she’d somehow felt that she’d need armour if she did. Well, she’d certainly got that right. And she had no idea how she was going to make it through a whole dinner if the Baron’s grandson didn’t start playing nice.
‘You’ve done well for yourself, Dare,’ the Baron said as they were all seated at the large dining table.
Defying the Billionaire's Command Page 3