An Innocent Affair. KIM LAWRENCE
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This display of agility in such a big man took Hope by surprise. If she’d imagined he would be less intimidating at eye level she soon discovered her mistake—controlled fury was the only way to describe the expression on his face. Her bewilderment and confusion were snowballing.
Over his shoulder she saw the falcon drop onto a small bird, probably a pigeon. Her imagination conjured up cruel talons tearing into the fragile frame of its prey. She shuddered. They made a good pair, man and bird. If he’d had talons she could readily imagine him sinking them into her.
‘Why did you ask me if I was married?’
‘Because I don’t…’ Her voice suddenly trailed off. Things slipped unpleasantly into place. ‘You hadn’t read any of the articles about—’
‘About you and your married lover. A fact you took full advantage of,’ he observed derisively. ‘I did tell you I’d been out of the country.’
‘That’s me—never let an opportunity to snare a poor, defenceless male pass me by. Of course, it would have been more satisfying if you’d had a wife and ten children.’ She spat the words from between clenched teeth.
To think I was impressed he hadn’t been influenced by the scurrilous tales! To think I thought he was warm and interesting! The fact that he was still the most virile male she’d ever met only intensified her disappointment. ‘An invalid mother would have been icing on the cake.’ Flippancy covered the pain of having her eyes opened to his true personality.
‘I can’t abide fakes,’ he responded in an austere manner that made her temper climb to new heights.
‘I can’t abide sanctimonious bores!’
‘Your family must have been going through hell.’
‘Thanks to nasty-minded creeps like you, they probably still are!’
‘Don’t try to transfer the guilt you feel to me, Hope. I suppose it’s something that you’re still capable of feeling guilt…’
‘And still capable of wrapping a sucker like you around my little finger.’ She’d hit the nail right on the head there; she could see it from the flash of rage in his eyes. That was all his outrage was about: he didn’t like the idea his judgement could be flawed. The great Alex Matheson didn’t get taken for a ride by anyone!
‘I’m sure you’ve had a great deal of practice; you’re very professional.’
She gasped, as if the slow, deliberate drawl had been a blow. The sound of her open palm as it struck the side of his face was like a whip-crack. ‘Oh, God, look what you made me do!’ She barely had time to shriek the words before the bird streaked past her face. Alex knocked her to the ground and the creature sped away.
He squatted beside her as she raised her head and groaned. ‘It’s only a superficial scratch. You were lucky.’
Her fingers curled in the mossy soil. ‘Break out the champagne to celebrate,’ she croaked. She gave a whimper and her head dropped once more. A sheen of cold perspiration covered her pale skin and beaded along her upper lip. She battled to overcome the waves of nausea.
‘There won’t be a scar.’ She flinched back as he touched the side of her cheek. ‘It barely broke the skin.’
‘It’s not that.’ She took several deep breaths and prayed she wouldn’t disgrace herself totally. ‘I’m going to throw up and it’s all your fault.’ This was always the aftermath of a brief flash of blind rage, this humiliating physical helplessness.
At least he had the sense to give her some privacy. As creeps went, he was fairly sensitive. A few minutes later she got to her feet and climbed the rocky outcrop he was sitting upon.
‘Are you pregnant?’ That made her lose her footing. Arms windmilling wildly, she managed not to fall, though that could hardly be more humiliating than losing her breakfast in front of him.
‘I’d hardly be blaming you if I was, would I?’ she responded, choosing a flattish piece of ground to sit upon, not too close to him. She felt the slight welt where the bird’s claws had grazed her face. She took out a tissue and spat on it. ‘Didn’t I read somewhere that saliva’s antiseptic?’ she wondered out loud. She dabbed the material to her face, blotting the small droplets of blood.
‘She thought you were attacking me. She’s very sensitive.’
And I’m a block of wood! God, he’s priceless! ‘I was, and no matter what anyone tells you my temper has been wildly exaggerated.’ She couldn’t help the hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice. The family joke about her left hook had worn pretty thin years ago, and she’d worked really hard to control her more instinctual responses. It wasn’t as if she liked losing her temper; it made her sick—physically sick afterwards. She was still shaking with reaction.
‘Under the circumstances I’m not going to disagree with you. I’d like to keep my other cheek intact.’
‘I’ve never hit anyone smaller than me.’
‘That must certainly reduce your field.’
‘That’s a cheap crack. I thought you had more class.’
‘And you’d know all about class, I suppose?’ He moved closer in time to see the flash of anger in her eyes. The absence of colour in her cheeks emphasised the brilliance of their blue. If he’d wanted to he could have counted the number of freckles that were scattered over the bridge of her nose. Make-up on a face like hers really would be a case of gilding the lily. ‘And if you’re thinking of taking another swing at me, I warn you I’m not into meek acceptance.’
That makes two of us, she thought, narrowing her eyes and lifting her chin. ‘I’m sorry I hit you.’ The words emerged with the utmost reluctance. ‘But you deserved it!’ She couldn’t prevent the heartfelt postscript. She was proud of the fact she’d tamed her temper, and she didn’t like being reminded that at times she could still lose control. ‘I haven’t hit anyone in…’
‘Hours?’
This ironic suggestion made her teeth gouge painful inroads into her full lower lip. ‘Years,’ she responded with icy dignity. She could still recall the occasion when the stupidity of losing her cool had been brought home to her pretty sharply.
When she and her sisters had come across those yobs threatening to drop the puppy off the bridge into the river, their taunts had made her see red. While she’d been giving the ringleader a bloody nose Anna had been jumping off the bridge into a raging torrent after the puppy and Lindy had been racing downstream to rescue them both. She supposed the incident, which could so easily have ended in tragedy, said quite a lot about their different personalities.
‘At least you’re ashamed of your latest escapade.’
‘Hitting you?’ ‘Ashamed’ was pitching a bit strong.
‘Breaking up a marriage.’
‘Oh, that,’ she said airily. She flicked him a sideways glance—yes, he looked as if he had a particularly unpleasant taste in his mouth. Thinking about his stern mouth made her stomach lurch. It was hard to forget she’d wondered what his lips would feel like, how he’d taste… She willed the flood of warmth that began low in her belly not to spread its heat to her trembling limbs. The last thing she needed right now was her brain to be befuddled by that sort of thing!
Well, I’d as soon be hung for a sheep as a lamb, and if he wants a scarlet woman, who am I to disappoint him? One thing she wasn’t going to be was a penitent sinner who could be redeemed by the marvellous Mr Matheson.
‘Lloyd’s not a child; he’s quite capable of making his own decisions. I think,’ she mused thoughtfully, ‘you’ll find he’s very grateful to me.’ And he’s got reason to be, she silently added.
‘Did his wife send you a thank-you card?’ He regarded her with fastidious distaste.
‘Not