Pagan Enchantment. Кэрол Мортимер

found Gideon Steele standing outside the door. Once again his suit was superbly tailored, blue this time, contrasted with a lighter blue shirt, and there was a weary look’ about his eyes and mouth as he raised dark brows at her appearance.

      ‘Mr Steele …’ she said weakly.

      ‘You called me—–’

      ‘I expected you to call back, not just turn up here!’ She was instantly on the defensive, something about this autocratic man making her feel that way whenever she met him. ‘I was just on my way out.’

      ‘And I thought the outfit was for my benefit,’ he drawled.

      Merry flushed. ‘Hardly!’

      He gave an impatient sigh, his face darkening to a scowl. ‘Could we talk about this inside?’ he snapped.

      She opened the door to him warily, taking her time about closing it again, allowing herself time to collect her thoughts together. Why couldn’t he have just telephoned her? It would have been so much easier talking to him on the telephone, to have agreed to meet Anthea Steele if she hadn’t had to speak to him face to face. She wouldn’t put it past this arrogant devil of a man to know that, after all, he must know the reason she had called him. There could only be one reason!

      He was waiting for her in the lounge, his impatience barely concealed as he tapped his fingers on the old stone fireplace that now housed an electric fire, drawing attention to the artistic sensitivity of his hands.

      ‘I’m to take it you’ve changed your mind about meeting Anthea?’ He finally spoke, impatient with her silence.

      Dull colour flooded her cheeks at his directness. ‘Yes,’ she bit out.

      He nodded, as if she could make no other answer. ‘You’ve spoken with your father?’

      ‘Yes.’

      His scowl deepened. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything else but “yes”?’ he snapped tersely.

      Merry shrugged. ‘There isn’t anything else to say, you seem to know all the answers.’

      He raised his eyes heavenwards. ‘Does that mean you can’t at least make a token show at conversation?’

      She flushed at his rebuke. ‘It’s all been said. I’ve spoken to my father, we’ve agreed that it isn’t disloyal to him and my mother if I meet my—your stepmother.’ She bit her lip at the angry flare in his eyes as she corrected herself. Anthea Steele wasn’t her mother, and never could be.

      ‘Very well,’ Gideon Steele rasped tautly. ‘When do you want to meet her?’ His eyes were narrowed.

      ‘I—I haven’t really thought about it.’ The decision to see her at all had been hard enough. ‘When do you think …?’

      ‘There’s no time like the present—–’

      ‘Not now!’ Merry gasped her protest. ‘Not tonight. It’s ten-thirty!’

      ‘So late!’ he taunted mockingly. ‘You’ve just admitted that you were on your way out, so it isn’t that late after all. But as it happens, I didn’t have right now in mind. I think tomorrow would be a good time.’

      It was all happening too fast, was like a snowball rolling down a hillside, getting bigger and bigger as it went—and it threatened to knock her off her feet when it came to an end!

      ‘Too soon?’

      It was the taunting softness of his voice that brought the spark of rebellion into her glittering green eyes. ‘Of course not,’ she answered lightly. ‘Tomorrow will be fine.’

      ‘Good,’ he nodded his satisfaction, his expression grim. ‘Do you have a valid passport?’

      Merry blinked dazedly. ‘Passport?’ she repeated incredulously, not able to keep up with his lightning change of subjects.

      ‘Yes. Do you?’ his impatience was barely contained.

      She frowned. ‘As it happens, yes. I went to Austria with some friends last year. Why do I need a passport?’

      ‘Anthea and my father are in the middle of a Mediterranean cruise at this moment. Tomorrow morning I’m on my way to join them for the last two weeks. You may as well come with me and meet Anthea then.’

      ‘Oh, but—I can’t—That’s ridiculous!’ she protested. ‘I can’t just up and leave tomorrow morning for two weeks!’

      ‘Why not?’ he queried softly. ‘You aren’t back in work yet, I already checked that out. Your father wouldn’t mind, and you’ve already agreed to meet Anthea. So what’s your problem?’ he raised dark brows over eyes the colour of a storm-tossed sea, supremely confident, not understanding that although he might live the jet-set life that she didn’t. She couldn’t possibly just go off with him tomorrow to heaven alone knew where!

      ‘You’re the problem,’ she told him heatedly.

      ‘Expecting me to just up and leave at a moment’s notice for—for—–’

      ‘Athens,’ he supplied calmly.

      ‘Athens,’ she repeated pointedly. ‘I can’t just—–’

      ‘Why not?’ he interrupted.

      ‘Well, because—I just can’t! I don’t have a seat booked on the plane—–’

      ‘It’s a private jet.’

      ‘I’m not booked on the ship—–’

      ‘It’s family owned, there’s always room for the family—and friends,’ he added with a drawl.

      So Vanda had got it wrong, it was shipping the Steele family were involved in—or was it shipping and airlines? He said it was a private jet. Probably both, she thought ruefully.

      ‘Settled?’ he taunted.

      She could think of no further objections to make, and her mouth set in a thin disapproving line.

      ‘The ship will be an easier place for you and Anthea to become acquainted,’ he continued at her silence. ‘It will be more relaxing for you both.’

      ‘You think so?’ she said stiffly, knowing that at any other time she would have been thrilled at the idea of a Mediterranean cruise. But not in these circumstances.

      His icy blue gaze raked over her. ‘I’m hoping so,’ he said pointedly. ‘On the way over here I also gave the problem of upsetting Anthea some thought.’

      ‘Yes?’ For some reason she suddenly felt wary.

      ‘You were right about it being a shock for her to have you suddenly produced before her. That wouldn’t be a good idea. My proposal is that you become my girl-friend for two weeks so that you can get to know each other naturally.’