The Mistress Scandal. KIM LAWRENCE

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ in a snowdrift for two hours on that occasion,’ she reminded him huskily. What’s your excuse now, Alice? Unwillingly she met the derision in his dark, compelling gaze. A shiver slid like ice all the way down her shock-stiffened spine—no man had a right to be that good-looking!

      The emergency services had taken her and several other unfortunate travellers to a hotel. People forced together by adversity often shared a unique sense of camaraderie which broke down the usual reserves, and that had been the case that night. The plush foyer had been loud with voices of folk sharing stories and whisky, which the hotel bar had been liberally dispensing.

      Alice had felt an odd sense of detachment as she’d stood there with an untouched glass in her hand. Nobody there could have been aware that her numbness extended far beyond her icy fingertips. She’d felt as though her soul had been surgically excised—she’d been empty.

      Inevitably it would hurt at some point, but she had wanted to delay that inevitable moment for as long as possible. She’d had no idea where she was, and she hadn’t been interested enough to ask. She’d just got into her car after the funeral and started to drive. In her right mind she’d have curtailed her journey when the weather had gone from bad to impossible. That evening she’d recklessly driven on, even when the conditions had become a total white-out.

      The dark stranger’s appraisal had been frankly sensual, even a little contemptuous, but for some reason this hadn’t angered or even flustered Alice. The strange sense of recognition, she had told herself later, must have had something to do with the uncanny resemblance. But the closer he’d come the less he’d looked like Oliver, and the stronger the aura of arrogance and power had become.

      ‘You were trapped in the snow …?’

      His deep voice held an unusual rasp that sent a sharp electrical jolt all the way down to her toes. She opened her mouth and gave a soundless gasp. How had she known he would sound like that?

      Alice ignored the opening he’d left for her name. ‘Yes.’

      ‘For how long?’

      Her slender shoulders lifted in the dark fake-fur-trimmed coat she’d thrown on over her simple black dress. She fingered the single string of pearls around her throat.

      ‘I don’t know,’ she replied honestly.

      ‘You’re not drinking?’

      She shook her head and the barrette that secured her long silky brown tresses came adrift. The rich warm cloud reached all the way to her slender waist.

      ‘I am.’

      The throaty confession surprised her. He didn’t look or sound drunk, she decided, but there was a certain wild, reckless gleam in his eyes. There were other things there too …

      Alice’s throat felt very dry when she spoke.

      ‘Were you caught in the blizzard too?’

      ‘No, I have a room …’

      ‘They’re turning the lounge into a dormitory for us.’ Personally she didn’t care if she slept on the snooker table.

      ‘British resourcefulness at its most impressive.’ The sultry intensity of his dark-eyed regard had not left her face for a second. ‘Would you like to share my room?’

      Alice couldn’t tell from his expression if he really expected her to take his offer seriously.

      ‘Yes.’

      If you discounted please she’d continued to say yes at all the vital moments during the rest of that long night.

      Alice dismissed the distracting images from her head by sheer will-power alone. ‘I’m in shock,’ she said with icy dignity. ‘I didn’t expect …’

      ‘Your sordid past to knock on the door?’ His helpful suggestion earned him a bitter glare. ‘Think how I felt! Greg had led me to believe you might be able to fit me in between baking for the church fête and …’ He paused with a frown. ‘Sorry, my knowledge of wholesome rural activities is a bit sketchy.’

      His patronising drawl made Alice grit her teeth.

      ‘And what do I get …?’ The mocking smile faded slowly from his face as he looked at her. ‘A lot more than I bargained for,’ he admitted huskily. ‘You were the most uninhibited lover I’ve ever had.’

      His uninhibited lover went scarlet, and a mortified squeak emerged from her throat.

      ‘Don’t say things like that to me!’ she ordered fiercely.

      ‘Why? Afraid your husband will arrive home unexpectedly? I’d have thought you thrived on the danger.’ He looked into her miserable panic-stricken eyes and then looked away, as though what he’d seen there he’d not been expecting. ‘Don’t panic. I’m not the kiss and tell type.’

      Alice tried to retrieve the shattered threads of her dignity. ‘I think you’ve lost track of why you came here.’

      ‘I think I’ve lost interest,’ he replied outrageously.

      ‘My sister’s future is not a subject I feel like joking about,’ she told him repressively.

      ‘I wasn’t joking,’ he muttered, following her into the big kitchen with its farmhouse table and obligatory Aga. ‘If it’s any comfort,’ he remarked, picking up a fluffy teddy bear Alice had missed from the floor and twitching a chewed brown ear, ‘I’ve told Greg he’s been criminally irresponsible. It’s bad enough the girl’s only a kid, but to not take precautions!’ His lips curled scornfully. ‘Have I said something funny?’ he enquired icily.

      ‘No,’ she managed, with only the faintest quiver of hysteria in her voice. Hopefully Gabriel MacAllister would never appreciate the irony of his scathing assessment.

      ‘Is she anything like you?’ he suddenly enquired.

      ‘Who?’

      ‘The sister.’

      ‘No, nothing like me at all. Sophie is very clever and sweet.’

      ‘Trusting and a bit dim if she fell for Greg,’ he announced with callous objectivity.

      Alice inhaled sharply. Even though she suspected he was baiting her she couldn’t help responding defensively.

      ‘Do they hand out Oxford scholarships to dimwits?’ she enquired acidly. How dare he criticise her sister? ‘If my sister fell for your slimy brother’s dubious charms you can put it down to lack of experience, not her IQ—she is, after all, eighteen. You know what I think of a … Heavens, he’s nearly my age, for God’s sake!’ she exclaimed in disgust.

      ‘Surely not that old?’ he returned, straight-faced. With no make-up and her simply cut hair emphasising the soft contours of her face and long, lovely neck she could have passed for a teenager herself.

      ‘I have to tell you once more I don’t find anything humorous in this situation. Also, I’ve not the faintest idea why you came here. It’s nothing to do with us what they decide to do.’

      ‘On СКАЧАТЬ