Four Christmas Treats. Jessica Hart

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      Knowing Tilly as he believed he did know her now, he couldn’t ignore the instinct that told him that if his suspicions about Art’s involvement in Jay Byerly’s underhand dealings were confirmed, Tilly would at the very least want to warn her mother about the true nature of the man she was planning to marry. And if she did that, Silas thought it entirely likely that Annabelle would go straight to Art and beg him to deny the accusations being levelled against him.

      Silas knew the last thing his publishers would want was to be threatened with a lawsuit by some expensive lawyer before his book was even written. And he certainly had no intention of putting himself in a position where the truths he had already worked so long to make public were silenced before they had been heard.

      Tilly would, of course, be hurt, and no doubt angry when he told her the truth on their return to London, but he felt sure that once he had explained the reasons he had not been able to confide in her she would understand and forgive him. But while logically it made sense not to say anything to Tilly yet, loving her as he did meant that he wanted to share his every thought and feeling with her. It was for her own sake that he could not do it, he reminded himself. She was already doing enough worrying about her mother, a woman who in Silas’s opinion ought to recognise how truly fortunate she was to have such a wonderful daughter.

      Something was on Silas’s mind, Tilly decided. In another few minutes they would be reaching the castle and the opportunity to ask him would be gone. She took a deep breath and said quietly, ‘You look rather preoccupied. Is something wrong?’

      Her awareness of his concern caused Silas to turn his head and look at her, and to go on looking at her. ‘Yes,’ he told her truthfully, adding, not quite so truthfully, ‘The closer we get to the castle the more I wish I could snatch you up and take you somewhere we could really be on our own. There’s so much I want to learn about you, Tilly. So much I want to know about you and so much I want you to know about me. And, selfishly, I want you all to myself so that we can do that. I’ve never thought of myself as a possessive man, but now I’m beginning to realise how little I really know myself—because where you are concerned I feel very unwilling to share you with anyone else.’

      ‘Don’t say any more,’ Tilly begged. ‘Otherwise I’ll be pleading with you to turn around and drive back to the hotel.’

      ‘The first thing I intend to do when we reach the castle is take you upstairs to our room and make love to you,’ Silas told her thickly.

      ‘I rather think that we’ll be called upon to explain ourselves to Cissie-Rose first, and apologise for putting her to the trouble of having to drive back alone,’ Tilly warned him wryly. ‘She won’t be happy to see us together, Silas.’ That was the closest Tilly felt she wanted to go in telling Silas that she was aware that Cissie-Rose’s interest in him was sexual and predatory.

      ‘We don’t owe her any explanations. She chose to leave in a strop and abandon us because I’d shown her that I wasn’t interested in what she was offering.’

      Tilly heard the hardness in his voice and winced a little.

      Silas saw her small movement and shook his head. ‘Don’t waste your sympathy on her, Tilly. She doesn’t deserve it.’

      ‘I can’t blame her for wanting you when I want you so much myself,’ Tilly told him honestly.

      Silas drove in to the courtyard, turning to look at her as he stopped the four-wheel drive to say softly, ‘Promise me something, Tilly?’

      Something? Her heart was so filled with love and happiness she wanted to promise him everything. ‘What?’ she asked instead.

      ‘Promise me that you’ll always be as honest and open with me as you are now. I love it when you tell me that you want me. And, just as soon as we get the chance, I intend to show you just how much.’

      ‘Yes, poor Tilly needs to go and lie down. She started with a headache on the way back—didn’t you, darling?’

      Tilly shot Silas a reproving look, but he was too busy convincing her mother that she wasn’t going to be well enough to emerge from their bedroom for at least a couple of hours.

      ‘Well, I’m sure that Art and the boys won’t mind keeping you company in the bar, Silas,’ Annabelle told him, before turning to Tilly to say reproachfully, ‘I wanted to show you my dress and the sketches Lucy has done for the flowers. Perhaps if you just took a couple of aspirin you wouldn’t need to lie down…?’

      Tilly wavered. She was so used to answering her mother’s needs when she was with her, and Annabelle was looking at her like a disappointed child deprived of a special treat, making her feel wretchedly guilty. But Silas had reached for her hand and was very discreetly, but very sensually, caressing the pulse-point on the inside of her wrist. Her desire for him was turning her bones and her conscience to jelly.

      She looked at her mother and lifted her free hand to her forehead. ‘Silas is right, Ma.’ she told her. ‘I really do need to lie down.’

      Five minutes later, when Silas locked the door to their room and leaned on it for good measure, taking her in his arms and drawing her very deliberately into the cradle of his hips so that she could feel his arousal, Tilly shook her head at him.

      ‘I don’t believe I’ve just done that. I’ve never lied to my mother before…’

      ‘When there’s a conflict of interests I’m delighted that you opted to choose me,’ Silas teased her.

      Tilly didn’t respond to his smile as readily as he had expected. ‘Loving someone shouldn’t mean abandoning your own moral code. Telling my mother I had a headache when I haven’t…’

      ‘What would you have preferred to do? Tell her that we wanted to make love?’

      Tilly exhaled in defeat. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But it still doesn’t make me feel good.’

      ‘Maybe this will, though.’

      Silas was teasing her with small, unsatisfying kisses that made her reach up for him and pull his head down to hers…

      ‘You remember that TV show Dallas? Well, I’m telling you that was nothing compared with the reality of how the oil business was in my father’s time. I started working in the family business straight out of school. My father said that was the best way to learn.’ Art reached for his drink and emptied his glass, demanding, ‘Come on Dwight, I thought you were playing bartender. Set them up again, will you?’

      It was almost dinnertime, and to judge from his slurred voice and red face Silas suspected that Art had been drinking for the best part of the afternoon. He had greeted them affably enough when they had finally come downstairs dressed for dinner, and had then begun reminiscing about the early days of his family’s oil business. Silas, sensing that this might be the breakthrough he needed, had encouraged him to keep talking by asking him judicially timed questions. He suspected from the bored expressions on the faces of Art’s sons-in-law that they had heard all Art’s stories before.

      ‘I imagine you must have known all the big players in the old oil world?’ Silas suggested casually.

      ‘Sure did,’ Art agreed boastfully. ‘I knew ’em all.’

      ‘Even Jay Byerly?’

      ‘Yep. He was some guy, was Jay. He СКАЧАТЬ