Betrayed

She did it carelessly, recklessly, and the hot coffee splashed up over her hands, causing her to catch her breath. ‘Damn,’ she said audibly this time, and Matthew swung himself off the chair, and came to see what she had done.

‘It’s nothing,’ she said, flustered by his nearness, and by the way her skin prickled every time she looked at him. She thrust her hands behind her back. ‘Go and sit down. I’ll make some more coffee. I’m sure that’s what my mother would expect me to do.’

‘There was nothing wrong with that coffee,’ commented Matthew drily, putting his hand behind her, and drawing her resisting fingers towards him. ‘Here,’ he said, his lips compressing when he saw the red marks that marred her pale skin. Turning on the cold tap, he forced her hand under its cooling spray and she immediately felt its relief. ‘Now, do you want to tell me what’s going on?’

‘Nothing’s going on,’ protested Olivia, the pressure of his hard fingers on her wrist causing a burning sensation to run up her arm. ‘Honestly, everyone’s been very—nice.’

‘Nice?’

Matthew looked down at her with darkening eyes, and Olivia’s breathing got shallower and shallower. ‘Yes—nice,’ she repeated, dragging her eyes away, and concentrating on the stream of water spilling over her hand. ‘I’m not saying we haven’t had our moments——’

‘I’ll bet.’ Matthew pulled her hand towards him, and after discovering that the marks were much less angry he turned off the tap. But he didn’t release her, and Olivia prayed no one would come in and find them like this. ‘I know what your old man can be like,’ he continued, tearing off a sheet of kitchen towel and dabbing her hand dry. ‘Remember how he used to chivvy me about driving too fast when you were in the car?’

‘Mmm.’

Olivia forced a polite smile, and finally succeeded in pulling her hand away. But when she moved across the room, on the pretext of collecting the dirty cups from the table, Matthew came after her.

‘Do you mind?’ she said, when she turned with the cups in her hands, and found him right behind her. ‘I want to wash these up.’

Matthew hesitated, and for one awful moment she thought he was going to touch her again. And she didn’t know how she would react if he did. Drop the cups probably, she thought unsteadily, and that would be the least of her worries.

But the problem didn’t arise. Matthew’s hesitation was only momentary. Then, he inclined his head and stepped aside, saying, as he did so, ‘What are you going to do today?’