He crossed his arms and laughed at her silently. Which so incensed her that she went to hit him once again but missed when he dodged leisurely and drawled, 'You are protesting a lot, Davina.'
'I hate you,' she whispered, clenching her fists and hating herself for being in this impossible position as well as giving way to ridiculously violent impulses. 'Will you go away and let me go to bed?'
He lifted a lazy eyebrow and his eyes were still full of wicked, soul-searing amusement. 'That could be an unhappy experience alone, but on top of an empty stomach, dear me, you don't have to do that to yourself.' He picked up his drink, moved to the door, opened it and waited. 'Bring your drink; I'll make you something to eat.' 'Eat?' she repeated in outrage. 'Yes, eat,' he murmured. 'Since you've decided we don't like each other and I gather you've placed what just happened in the realms of temporary insanity- strange how it keeps happening,' he said gravely, 'but I don't see why we shouldn't at least eat and drink if nothing else, Mrs Hastings. Perhaps I should also warn you that I won't take no for an answer.'
He said it quite lightly but there was no amusement that she could discern in his expression now and she'd seen the prelude to irritation and impatience in his eyes too often before not to recognise it now. 'You wouldn't,' she said, but uncertainly, and she could have shot herself for it.
'I would-look, I'm starving, too, so don't make me pick you up and carry you there, Davina. That would be quite childish.'
'You're… you are…' She gritted her teeth.
'I know,' he agreed. 'Coming?' He smiled as she tossed her head but picked up her drink and stepped towards the door.
'What's funny now?' she enquired as she passed him.
'I knew you were going to do that, toss your head like a bad-tempered, but thoroughly classy racehorse with wonderful lines,' he said gently.
Davina stopped. 'If you say one more word along those lines, I shall… probably scream,' she threatened with extreme frustration.
He grinned down at her. 'Sorry, ma'am. I'll try to reform,' he said meekly.
Davina took a breath but let it out without adding anything because Steve Warwick was impossible and she had not the slightest idea how to handle him now, she realised. Nor could she help feeling a bit foolish, a bit like a shrew and-and by far the worst part, desperately confused.
'Come into the den,' he said, as they got to the house. 'It's cosier in there in this kind of weather.'
'All right,' she said quietly, 'but I could make us something to eat. I'm not that exhausted and whatever.'
'You look it,' he commented. 'Just do as you're told. Read the paper or something; I'll top up your drink.'
Davina subsided into the leather couch that was warm and supple and beautifully sprung and picked up the paper. The den was an entirely masculine room, with tartan covers on the two wing chairs either side of the couch, a television set, bookshelves and photos of all the Warwick boats on the walls, yet it was cosier in the lamplight on a night like this without the wall of windows in the lounge dining-area. But she found she wasn't interested in the paper and she laid her head back, nursed her drink and stared at the ceiling and listened to the rain beating on the roof.
Why did I do it? she wondered bleakly. Why does it feel so right, in other words? It never has before…
'Here we are.'
She sat up as Steve put a tray down on the low table in front of the settee and drew up a tartan chair. 'Not up to your standard, I'm afraid.'
She grimaced and said wryly, 'Not bad, all the same.' There were two grilled steaks, baked potatoes in then-jackets topped with cream, a tossed salad and warm buttered rolls on the tray. Also, the unfinished bottle of red wine from the night before.
'Can you eat on your lap?'
She nodded and sniffed appreciatively. And indeed, the steak was of the melt-in-the-mouth variety and she polished the lot off. 'That beef,' she said, 'is the best I've tasted for years.'
'It's island beef.'
'Must be the wonderful pasture-oh, I can do that,' she said as he rose and took her plate.
'No, you won't-drink your wine,' he ordered, loading the tray and leaving the room with it.
Davina shrugged and sat back with her wine which was a full-bodied Hunter Valley red, but smooth as silk on the palate, something she hadn't fully appreciated the night before. 'Why do I get the feeling I was destined to finish this bottle of wine come hell or high water?' she murmured to herself. 'Which is another way of querying whether Steve Warwick always gets his own way?'
'Nearly always,' he replied, coming back into the den silently.
She coloured and bit her lip.
He grimaced. 'I gather I wasn't supposed to hear that.'
'You gather right,' she said evenly.
He sat down again and raised his own glass. 'Well- where do we go from here, Mrs Hastings?' He drained the glass.
'Nowhere,' she said flatly and wearily.
'So, are you saying we ignore the sort of spontaneous combustion we seem to generate?' He lifted an eyebrow at her.
'Yes.'
'And just hope it doesn't keep happening?'
'It won't. Look.' She sat forward and realised she was all but reeling with tiredness now and that two glasses of wine on top of a brandy hadn't helped. 'I can't really think straight at the moment, but-' she moved her shoulders helplessly '-well I can't.'
'I can,' he said softly. 'But what I think might not please you much.'
'I've no doubt about that.'
He looked amused. 'All the same, for what it's worth, and despite what we've both said on the subject, it's not going to just go away. Now if you actually think this state of affairs pleases me, I have to tell you it couldn't have happened at a more awkward time for me-'
'Dear, oh dear!' Davina said with a flash of her more usual spirit.
'Yes, funny that,' he mused. 'I mean, how one can't help feeling piqued in certain circumstances. 'Are you?' he queried quizzically.
'I wasn't….' Davina closed her mouth and felt some telltale heat begin to rise up her throat.
'It's all right, don't let it upset you,' he said gravely. 'I'm quite familiar with the feeling myself-probably only human nature. However…' He paused. 'I really don't think it will help to simply pretend to ignore this situation, Davina. We should try to…hammer it out, if you like, make some decisions. Otherwise, life will be extremely trying for both of us for the next month, don't you agree?' He lifted a wry eyebrow at her.
Davina stared at him in silence for about a minute. Then she said hollowly, 'I can see it's not a matter of great seriousness for you-'
'I can assure you it is.'
'No, it's not,' she flung at him angrily. 'You're treating it as some kind of joke at the moment.'
'You didn't think I was seriously unpleasant to you this morning?' He raised an eyebrow.
'I think you can be seriously unpleasant at the drop of a hat-' She stopped and looked at him uncertainly. 'You mean you were…like that… because…?' She couldn't go on.
He nodded and moved his shoulders ruefully. 'I spent a rather uncomfortable night,' he murmured. 'What about you?'
She looked away and put her hands together awkwardly but said nothing.
He studied her averted profile then he said in quite a different voice, 'Did he ever-beat you up?' She blinked rapidly. 'No, not exactly.' 'Was he your first lover?' 'Yes…'
'And you've decided to make him your last,' he said a little flatly.
'No,' Davina said barely audibly and looked at him at last out of shadowed but steady violet eyes. 'But I have decided, and I've already told you this, that I will never willingly put myself in the position where I'm in any way beholden to a man again.'
He was silent for a time as they gazed at each other, until he said thoughtfully, 'It needn't necessarily be that way, Davina. In fact I think you and I would deal rather well together-I'm a little allergic myself to being beholden to anyone.'
'That doesn't mean to say you wouldn't expect
it of a woman you were-sleeping with, let alone a wife-and before you take that the wrong way, I gather anything permanent is not what you had in mind for us-I'm not angling-'
'I know, don't get all worked up again.' She sighed, then said, 'Well?' 'Well,' he repeated, 'I guess this is it-you're trying to say that outside of my arms the thought of sleeping with me doesn't appeal because you've been hurt and frightened once, whereas I'm trying to say-' he paused and narrowed his eyes '-that when two people attract each other the way we do it's not likely to be either a hurtful or frightening experience, something like that.' He paused again and focused those clever, hazel eyes on her. 'But I've got the feeling there's only one way I'll be able to prove that to you.'
Davina trembled beneath his gaze, knowing exactly what he meant, but at the same time she was struck by an inner truth she hadn't acknowledged since her disastrous marriage. She desperately lacked love in her life and not only the physical side of it, but the warmth, friendship, tenderness and permanence she'd once believed in then lost faith in altogether, or so she'd thought. And where is that here? she mused. How can I know whether this difficult, dangerous, arrogant man is any more prepared to fall in love with me than I am with him? How can I know if those things could exist between us; there's little evidence of them in his life now or that there ever was-no, so far there's little difference between him and Darren, who was prepared to lie and cheat, so desperate was he to get me into his bed. No, I'd be mad to expose myself to it again, to…lust, I guess, even if I seem to suffer from it, too.
'It's no good,' she said huskily, and rose a little unsteadily. 'I'm sorry but if we… make that decision that it's just not on, it will fade, it has to.' She rubbed her brow wearily. 'Not to mention the sheer logistics of it,' she added with some irony.
'You mean how to explain to my grandmother and my stepmother that I'm sleeping with my housekeeper?' he said with a touch of irritable sarcasm. 'Yes,' she said tautly.
'I never allow them to dictate anything to me, Davina,' he said coolly.
'Well, bully for you,' she murmured. 'I, on the other hand, have distinct reservations about sleeping with the boss when I'm on a job.'
'May I return your sentiment?' he said. 'But I have to point out you're also splitting hairs.'
Davina raised her hands and moved to the doorway. 'Do me a favour-you were the one who said we should hammer this out; well, we have-at least I have, and you're just going to have to accept it! You were also the one who said it couldn't have happened at a worse time for you-why don't you take that thought to bed with you?'
'And what will you take with you?' he said softly, eyeing her with all the mockery he was capable of.
'Steve…' She stopped, because his name, which she'd sworn never to use, had risen to her lips unconsciously and, worse, she'd uttered it as a plea. She closed her eyes but it was too late to deny it. 'Please,' she whispered, her lips suddenly trembling, 'let it be.'
He stood up at last and came over to her and leant his shoulders against the doorframe and the lines of his face were suddenly more serious than she'd ever seen them, as he said, after a moment, 'Are you really sure about this, Davina?'
'I…' She licked her lips. 'Yes. I'm sorry.' Her shoulders slumped suddenly. 'But it would…be impossible,' she said, though.
'No more sorry than I am,' he murmured and, taking her by surprise, lifted a hand and touched her face in the lightest gesture. 'All right.' He straightened. 'So be it. You'd better go to bed. Tomorrow will be quite an experience for you, I'm sure.'
She stared at him, still feeling the touch of his fingers on her skin and with sudden uncertainty in her eyes. Then she forced herself to say, 'What… what time do they arrive?'
'About eleven-thirty.' He turned away. 'What you should really do is have a swim tomorrow morning,' he added. 'The cold water will help any bruises you have.'
'I…will. Goodnight.'
'Goodnight, Davina.'
She hesitated for one brief moment, but he'd sounded so completely normal that it seemed pointless to say any more.
She went to bed, if anything more confused than ever.
'And this,’ Steve Warwick said the next morning, 'is Candice.'
'Hello, Candice,' Davina said, stifling her surprise. For some reason, she'd expected an ultra-feminine little girl, but the one who stood before her eyeing her aggressively was anything but. She had scraggly long pigtails, glasses, and her outfit of jeans, blouse and running shoes looked as if it had all been pulled through a bush backwards. She also didn't reply to Davina's greeting, but shrugged her thin shoulders and turned away. 'Candy,' Steve's stepmother Loretta protested mildly. 'Don't call me that!'
'But, darling-'
'I agree with Candice,' the elder Mrs Warwick said briskly, speaking for the first time since apparently being struck dumb upon having Davina presented to her. She was a tall, aristocratic as well as energetic-looking lady who wore her age lightly and Davina guessed she must be at least seventy. 'If you wanted to call her Candy you shouldn't have bothered with Candice, although why anyone should want to call to mind something frivolous and sugary like confectionery when naming a child is beyond me.' And she cast her daughter-in-law an old-fashioned look.
It made no impression on Loretta. She too had been visibly taken aback by the temporary housekeeper, widening her sleepy but spectacular dark eyes and blinking her thick dark lashes several times. It was not easy to put an age on Loretta, Davina decided, but quite easy to see how most men, let alone a possibly lonely widower, could fall for her. She was… 'luscious' was the word, Davina reflected a little wryly, once again taking in the river of shining black hair, her smooth olive skin and very white teeth, her-and it would be unkind to say blowzy-but undeniably opulent figure clad also in jeans but with a tiny vest top that left little to the imagination. And for the first time since waking up she felt a trickle of amusement run through her at the thought of the kind of fur and feathers that might fly between the two Mrs Warwicks.
'Yes, well, before we resort to armed combat,' Steve Warwick said a little drily, 'may I say that Davina is here to make your holidays entirely worry-free, so please don't even think about anything to do with the house and, if you wouldn't mind, I'll need some help with this.' He gestured to the mountain of luggage that he'd brought in through the back door. 'How the hell you got all this on the plane I'll never know; the limit is supposed to be fourteen kilos.'
'Darling,' Loretta purred, 'what's the use of owning an airline if you can't bend the rules a bit?'
'I disagree entirely with that kind of thinking,' Mrs Warwick senior said. 'Rules should be rules-'
'But we were the only people on the plane, Lavinia,' Loretta pointed out. 'It's not as if I was endangering lives-'
'You weren't to know that, though-'
'I was. I rang and checked-they assured me I could bring as much as I liked.'
'Anyone,' Lavinia Warwick said arctically, 'who requires that amount of luggage for a simple holiday on a simple island needs their head read. Come, Candice,' she added, 'we'll choose our rooms.' And she stalked out of the kitchen with Candice following.
Loretta watched them go and turned to Steve with a smile. 'Your grandmother never changes, does she? And before you say anything this was her idea, not mine, darling. But I'll help you with the luggage,' she added kindly.
'You'd help me a lot more, Loretta, if you didn't wind her up-'
'I didn't! I've been as good as gold!' And she smiled a wide, white, sultry smile at him.
'If you think bringing this amount of luggage with you is not winding her up, I know bloody well it is!' Steve Warwick countered scathingly, and appeared to then count to ten just beneath his breath. And Davina thought with an inward grin that she was enjoying this… All the same, she came to his rescue.
'Uh… lunch will be ready in about half an hour, Mrs Warwick. I thought it might be nice to have it on the terrace, it's such a lovely day.'
Loretta turned to her and said warmly,
'What a great idea! I'll just freshen up. Now let me see, I think I can manage these two, Steve.'
He returned to the kitchen when all the luggage had been disposed of looking thoroughly annoyed and muttering, 'Why the bloody hell I put up with them I can't imagine.' 'For the sake of the child?' Davina suggested as she tossed a salad, and bit her lip. 'Sorry, it's got nothing to do with me.'
'You're quite right, nevertheless,' he said moodily and sat down at the table. 'What do you think of her?' 'Candice?'
'Yes, Candice,' he said sardonically. 'She can be a proper horror when she sets her mind to it.'
'If she's had her mother and her grandmother fighting over her ever since she can remember, it's not surprising.'
He grimaced and folded his arms. 'Do you know, my father was a very sane, sensible man, I always thought. How he could have left a mess like this is beyond me.'
'Don't you have any-affection for her?'
'Yes I do,' he said shortly. 'But I'm only a man, Davina, and there are times when even I am at a loss- my father couldn't stop them fighting and how the hell I'm supposed to is, upon occasions, beyond me.'
'Very difficult, I would have to agree, now I've met them,' Davina said.
'Thank you.' He grimaced again.
'You're welcome.' She carried the salad to the fridge then looked around, but everything else was done.
'How do you think you'll cope with her?' he queried, tilting the chair back irritably.
'Only time will tell.'
'You're a fount of wisdom this morning, Mrs Hastings,' he said with soft mockery.
'And you should guard against winding me up, Mr Warwick, or trying to,' she retorted.
He smiled quizzically and opened his mouth, but they both heard footsteps coming down the stairs and his smile deepened to a genuine grin as he stood up with alacrity and murmured, 'I'll leave you to it-by the way, I won't be here for lunch. I've told them so you don't have to worry about it, but I will be back for dinner.' And so saying, he left via the back door, whistling cheerfully.
Davina stared after him frustratedly.
A Masterful Man Page 6