Carole Mortimer Romance Collection

Damn Henry. Didn’t her stepfather realise that Lyon was the main stress and strain she was trying to escape from by taking up her mother’s suggestion that she take the day off? Probably. One thing she was absolutely sure of since coming to know him better: that ‘irresponsible old devil’ pose Henry adopted was just that—a pose. He invariably knew exactly what he was doing. Just as he did this time. He wanted his own way just as much as he protested Lyon always did.

‘We had an appointment at nine-thirty,’ Lyon reminded her when she made no response.

‘I cancelled it,’ she told him dismissively as she climbed the marble steps out of the pool, all the time trying not to hurry her movements and show how uncomfortable she felt dressed in only her brief black bikini, her body lightly golden against the dark material. As quickly as she could without appearing too obvious she pulled on the white towelling robe Henry had provided, wrapping a towel about her wet hair before turning to face Lyon again.

And as she looked at the light mockery in his expression she knew that her efforts had all been wasted; he knew exactly how uncomfortable she had felt emerging from the pool in his presence. Damn him as well as Henry!

‘I’m well aware of the fact that you cancelled the appointment,’ Lyon drawled softly. ‘So I thought I would come and see you instead,’ he added challengingly.

‘The “mountain coming to Mohammed”?’ she derided, settling herself down on a white lounger, relieved to do so, as unnerved as she usually was to be in this man’s company.

His mouth twisted. ‘Something like that. Is the water warm?’

Silke looked up at him frowningly; what did the temperature of the water have to do with their conversation about her broken appointment?

‘Is it?’ he persisted.

‘Very,’ she answered distractedly.

‘In that case—’ he took off his tie, undoing the top button of his shirt ‘—I think I’ll go in for a swim too.’

Silke blinked up at him. ‘You don’t have a costume,’ she stated the obvious.

Dark brows rose over mocking grey eyes as he looked down at her. ‘I always have one here for my use,’ he told her tauntingly. ‘Don’t worry, Silke; I wasn’t about to go skinny-dipping!’

Colour darkened her cheeks at his mockery; it was just like him to realise that had been her immediate worry!

‘We can talk once I’ve had my swim,’ he added arrogantly.

‘I was thinking of leaving,’ Silke told him stiffly, still smarting from his derision. But there was no way she could have sat here calmly while he swam naked—and she knew he was arrogantly sure enough of himself to have done exactly that if he felt like it!

He turned slowly back to look at her. ‘Henry told me you intended spending the day here...?’ He arched questioning brows.

Damn Henry; exactly what was he up to? He knew how much she wanted to avoid Lyon’s company, and yet he had told the other man where she was, and how long she intended staying here.

She shrugged. ‘I have things to do.’

‘They can wait,’ Lyon told her arrogantly. ‘At least until after I’ve had my swim and we’ve talked,’ he added drily as she would have protested at his autocratic manner.

Silke glared after him as he went to get changed. Arrogant, arrogant...God, he was so infuriating; she was starting to repeat herself now!

What could he want to talk to her about? Not her jewellery designs, surely? He had made his feelings clear right from the beginning concerning her mother’s motives for marrying Henry, had classed her in the same category. But he had seemed more than a little interested in the jewellery she had been wearing on Saturday...

‘Why so pensive, Silke?’

She had been so deep in thought that she hadn’t been aware of his return, her eyes widening as she looked up at him standing next to her lounger, swallowing hard as she took in the male beauty of him. Brief black swimming trunks covered the lower part of his body, a body that was tautly muscled, covered in a fine dark hair, the skin lightly tanned. He was breathtaking!

‘Silke?’ he prompted softly as she continued to stare at him.

She blinked, shaking her head slightly to break the spell of his mesmerising virility. But it wasn’t easy to do. She had made love with this man, her body pressed against his, his arms like steel bands about her as he claimed her. And as she looked at him she wanted him again. Oh, God...!

He reached out to remove the towel from about her hair, loosening the silky blonde strands down on to her shoulders, his fingers gently caressing, his gaze intent on her flushed face.

Oh, God, could he see the desire in her face? Was her need of him there in her eyes?

‘Are you coming in for another swim?’

It had been the last thing she’d expected him to say, and her breath left her lungs in a sigh—her first indication that she had been holding her breath in the first place! She swallowed hard. ‘No, I—I think I’ll just sit here for a while,’ she refused awkwardly, not sure if her legs would support her if she should attempt to stand up!

Lyon looked down at her searchingly. ‘Are you still feeling ill?’

She shook her head, the damp tendrils of hair cold about her flushed face. ‘I had been swimming for almost an hour when you arrived,’ she dismissed the suggestion—although she did feel slightly weak-kneed in this man’s presence!

He nodded, straightening, at last removing his hand from her hair—and allowing Silke to breathe once again! ‘I won’t be long,’ he assured her—before diving neatly into the clear water and swimming towards the opposite end of the pool with evenly strong strokes.

He could stay in the water for the rest of the day as far as Silke was concerned; that way she might be able to relax her jangled nerves, and force herself to breathe easily! He really was the most infuriating—! No, he wasn’t infuriating, she admitted heavily; she was just in love with the man—which had to be worse!

What was she going to do about her feelings towards this man? What could she do? He was Henry’s nephew, had been brought up as the son the older man had never had, and with Silke’s mother’s marriage to his uncle Lyon was going to be in her own life for a long time to come. Which was going to be like hell on earth!

She had, in fact, spent much of the weekend and this morning thinking what she was going to do about the situation. And she hadn’t come up with any solutions, other than actually moving away from the area completely, possibly even going abroad somewhere. Maybe if she went to America she might be able to get somewhere with her designs. It was the only really feasible idea she had come up with so far, but it seemed a little drastic even so.

‘You are pensive, aren’t you?’ Lyon frowned as he sat down on the lounger next to hers, towelling the darkness of his hair dry as he did so.

Silke forced a lightness to her expression. ‘Deep in thought,’ she corrected dismissively.

‘Concerning what?’ Lyon still watched her intently.

She gave a light laugh. ‘Really, Lyon, you’re being extremely rude; aren’t a person’s thoughts supposed to be the one thing that is completely private?’

He gave a rueful smile. ‘I thought we had both agreed that I am “extremely rude”; so what were you thinking about?’

She couldn’t very well say, ‘You!’ ‘The future,’ she shrugged. ‘I have a few decisions to make.’

‘About Cameron?’ he bit out, his eyes narrowed, the white towel about his neck now as he sat forward on the lounger.

Silke gave an impatient sigh. ‘I thought I told you James means nothing to me; he certainly doesn’t come into any of my plans for the future!’

Lyon nodded dismissively. ‘Good!’ he said with satisfaction. ‘Then what are these plans? No,’ he added firmly. ‘Before you tell me what you’re thinking of doing, let me tell you of the offer Buchanan’s wants to make to you.’

‘No!’ She sat up abruptly, dark green eyes flashing a warning. ‘I don’t want Buchanan’s to “make me an offer”—’

‘Buchanan’s—or me?’ he grated harshly.

‘Aren’t they one and the same?’ she challenged.

‘Possibly,’ he conceded softly.

‘Definitely,’ she said with feeling. ‘And less than two weeks ago you believed I was nothing but a little gold-digger who intended marrying your uncle for what I could get! The fact that it was my mother who married Henry instead doesn’t change that fact, and I have no intention of accepting anything from you or Buchanan’s!’