An Exception to His Rule. Lindsay Armstrong

disastrous, mainly because she was tall enough to be effective about it. She advanced the half step towards Damien Wyatt and slapped his face. She did more.

      ‘Oh, how I’ve wanted to do that,’ she gasped but with great passion. ‘Talk about being above the mortal coil—you obviously see yourself as the bee’s knees!’

      His lips twisted as he fingered his cheek. ‘Bee’s knees—haven’t heard that one for a while. All the same, Stretch,’ he responded, ‘I—’

      ‘Don’t call me that,’ she warned.

      ‘Whatever.’ He shrugged and took her in his arms and proceeded to kiss her again but this time there was a definite purpose to it. This time it was a battle, not a shocked passive response on her part and a more light-hearted exploration on his.

      Until he lifted his head and said abruptly, ‘No, no more anger and hate, Harriet.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘It’s time to move on. No, don’t do a thing, I’m not going to hurt you, it’s just that fate seems to have intervened.’ He shook his head. ‘It certainly has for me.’

      And this time, before he kissed her again, he drew her into his body and ran his hands over her in a way that made her go still and her eyes widen in a different kind of shock because it was as if he was imparting an electric current through her, a tide of sensuality she couldn’t resist.

      Then he released her and cupped her face in his hands and they looked into each other’s eyes for a long, long moment. And as she breathed in the essence of Damien Wyatt it had a powerful effect on her. Not only did he bring the outdoors into the dining room—there were sweat stains on his shirt, his hair was ruffled—but a physical force and the aroma of pure man.

      Then, as she searched his dark eyes and saw the way they were focused on her and felt the way his hands moved down to her hips and were gentle but skilful on her body, she got a different sense of him.

      As if she was viewing the man behind the man. As if, underneath that prickly, easily prone to irritation exterior, there was a man who knew how to make love to a woman in a way that thrilled her and drove her to excesses she hadn’t known she could reach...

      And when he started to kiss her again, because of that sense of him, because of the rapturous tingling of all her senses, something she’d been denied for a long time, because of the feel of the hard planes of his body against her, because he was actually taller than she was and because there was something terribly, awe-inspiringly masculine about him unless you were a block of wood, she found herself kissing him back.

      They drew apart briefly once. They were both breathing raggedly. He pulled the ribbon out of her hair and ran his fingers through it. She spread her fingers on his back and felt the sleek strength of it beneath his shirt.

      Then he was kissing her again and her breasts were crushed against him as he held her hard.

      It was the dining room door opening and a spontaneous whistle that brought Harriet Livingstone and Damien Wyatt back to earth.

      Not that Damien betrayed any sign of discomfort, at first.

      He released her in a leisurely way and tidied the collar of her dress before he said over her shoulder, ‘Charlie, this is Harriet Livingstone. Harriet—’ he put his hands on her shoulders ‘—it’s OK. Meet my brother, Charles Walker Wyatt. He’s renowned for rushing in where angels fear to tread.’

      Harriet swallowed and put her hands up to try to tidy her hair before she forced herself to turn around.

      Charles Walker Wyatt wasn’t as tall as his brother Damien and he looked to be several years younger. He also bore an arrested expression on his face, as of one who had received a smack on the head when least expecting it.

      ‘Holy...Mackerel, Damien!’ he exclaimed then. ‘The last thing I expected to find in the dining room of all places was you kissing a girl I’ve never laid eyes on! That’s hardly fools rushing in material—wouldn’t you agree, ma’am?’ he appealed to Harriet as he advanced towards them.

      ‘By the way, please forgive me,’ he went on, ‘for labelling you “a girl”—not that you’re not but it sounds sort of generic and I don’t mean to classify you like that. Not at all! But—’

      ‘Charlie.’ There was a definite warning note in Damien’s voice.

      ‘Damien?’ Charlie replied, looking innocent. ‘Just tell me what I’m allowed to say and do and I’ll try not to put a foot wrong!’

      ‘What anyone with a grain of courtesy or good sense would have done in the first place,’ his brother replied evenly. ‘Retreated and shut the flaming door!’

      The last bit was said a little less than evenly and it struck Harriet that Damien Wyatt was not completely unaffected by his brother’s intrusion.

      ‘Ah.’ Charlie rubbed his chin. ‘OK—but actually, I’ve had a better idea. What’s wrong with me getting to know Miss Harriet Livingstone?’ And he looked admiringly at Harriet.

      ‘Everything,’ Damien snapped. ‘Just go away, Charlie!’ he added, his irritation and rising impatience plain to be seen.

      Something Charles Walker Wyatt obviously saw for himself because he sketched a salute, did a military about-turn and said, ‘Just going, sir.’ He marched out smartly.

      Damien waited until the door closed before turning back to Harriet. ‘Do you know something?’ he said bitterly. ‘Every time we get within cooee of each other, you and I, it turns out to be a shambles!’

      Harriet swallowed. ‘I think I should just go. It could never work.’

      ‘Go?’ he said through his teeth, ‘How the hell can you kiss a guy like that and just go?’

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘YOU STARTED IT,’ Harriet said and immediately despised herself for sounding incredibly lame and childish. ‘I mean...’ But she found it impossible to sort out her thoughts let alone her emotions.

      ‘If you hadn’t tripped over the damn dog, I might not have started it,’ he replied irritably. ‘Anyway! How come Tottie is so taken with you?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ Harriet shrugged helplessly. ‘Dogs do just seem to take to me.’

      ‘Look—’ he studied her ‘—sit down and have another cup of tea—no, I’ll pour it—hang on, I’ve got a better idea.’ He guided her to a chair at the dining table and pulled it out for her. ‘Sit down and study some of my mother’s incomparable collection; it might calm you. While I pour us a drink.’

      He turned away towards a cocktail cabinet.

      Harriet drew a deep breath and combed her hair with her fingers but she couldn’t find her ribbon so she had to leave it loose. She took a hanky out of her purse and patted her face. Then her attention was drawn to an exquisite cameo in an old-fashioned rose-gold and pin-point diamond setting and she forgot about the wreck she might look as she stared at it rapturously. And Damien Wyatt put a glass of brandy down beside her and pulled out a chair opposite to sit down with his own drink.

      ‘Cheers,’ he said.

      Harriet hesitated.

      ‘Don’t think about it; just drink it,’ he advised.

      So she took a couple of sips and felt the brandy slip down and a warm glow of—what was it? Some confidence?—rise in its place.

      But, before she could formulate anything sensible to say, he spoke. ‘How well do you know Arthur?’

      ‘Hardly at all. I know Penny better. We were at college together for a while, although she’s a few years older. Then we lost track of each other until I came up to Ballina. It was quite an amazing coincidence. I literally bumped into her—no,’ she said with her lips quirking suddenly as