An Insatiable Passion. Lynne Graham

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      Simmering with pain and indignation, she dug her shaky hands into her pockets.

      In the charged silence he grated, ‘I’ll buy the farm from you. The money can be raised fast. You don’t need to hang around up here.’

      ‘No, thanks. You don’t like the idea of me as a neighbour much, do you?’

      His teeth glimmered white against bronzed skin and it absently occurred to her that not even prolonged outdoor exposure to the elements had given him that depth of a tan in a Yorkshire winter. ‘How do you expect me to feel about it?’

      Her violet-blue eyes stayed steady. ‘I don’t expect you to feel anything.’