The Secret Virgin

Fine—now that he had come down to take over entertaining their guest! ‘I’ll give you a shout when I’ve served the meal,’ she said.

Jonathan gave her a quick glance. ‘I hope I haven’t put you to too much trouble on my behalf…?’

‘Not in the least,’ Tory assured him airily. ‘We were having a roast lunch anyway,’ she told him, knowing by the narrowing of those silver-grey eyes that Jonathan McGuire, at least, hadn’t missed the intended slight.

‘I’m afraid my wife fell over yesterday and sprained her ankle,’ her father told their guest. ‘But Tory cooks almost as well as her mother.’

‘Almost?’ Tory deliberately rose to her father’s teasing; it was part of what she most enjoyed about being at home. Her parents were such genuine down-to-earth people. Unlike the crowd she was surrounded by in London!

‘The proof will be in the eating.’ Her father gave Jonathan a conspiratorial wink. ‘Let’s go through, Jonathan, and say hello to Thelma; she’s been looking forward to meeting you.’

Which put her mother in the minority as far as Tory was concerned. Gifts of flowers and chocolates did not alter the fact that the man was incredibly rude.

Although there was no sign of that rudeness as the four of them sat down to lunch, her mother helped into the dining room by Jonathan McGuire’s solicitous hand under her elbow.

Probably another lesson in manners taught him by his mother, Tory decided disgruntledly.

Now who was being rude and uncooperative?

So she was. But she just couldn’t get past the man she had met yesterday. Even if Jonathan’s next words did make it seem that he was determined to wipe out that image today…

‘This is delicious,’ he told her after tasting the succulent chicken and accompanying vegetables. He was seated next to Tory at the table, her parents facing them. ‘School Sunday lunches were never as good as this!’ he commented. ‘I grew up believing English cooking had to be the worst in the world!’

Tory’s brows rose over surprised blue eyes. ‘You went to school in England?’ How strange, when his parents were both American.

He met her gaze steadily for several long seconds. ‘English education, paradoxically, is the best in the world,’ he finally answered.

‘And your parents obviously wanted the best for you,’ she acknowledged sardonically.

His eyes narrowed speculatively for several seconds before he turned to her mother. ‘I had no idea when I accepted your invitation yesterday, Thelma, that you had hurt your ankle, that it would be Tory I was making extra work for,’ he said.

If he was trying to make her feel guilty, then he was succeeding!

Though if she were truthful with herself, it wasn’t really Jonathan she was annoyed with today. Rupert had telephoned again this morning, shortly before the other man arrived, annoying her intensely with his certainty that she would be back in London soon, ready to begin another round of work and mindless parties.

‘It really was no trouble,’ she assured Jonathan awkwardly; after all, he was her parents’ guest, and she really wasn’t being very welcoming. ‘I’m glad you’re enjoying it. There’s one of Mum’s cherry pies for dessert,’ she added.

‘If I’m not careful I shall be putting on weight while I’m here,’ he came back satirically.

Tory doubted that very much. Jonathan had the build of an athlete, without looking muscle-bound—something she found most unattractive in a man.

Not that she wanted to find Jonathan McGuire attractive! She was having enough trouble trying to sort her own life out, without complicating it with an attraction that was going nowhere. Not that Jonathan had given any indication that he found her in the least attractive anyway!

Could she possibly be a bit irritated with him because of that, too?

Maybe, she conceded. Although she never made anything of her looks when she was at home, always wore denims and tee shirts for convenience’s sake—she never knew when her father was going to ask her to go and help him on the farm. And she never bothered with make-up when she was here, either; it was a relief not to always have to look perfect.

But, even so, Jonathan McGuire hadn’t given any indication that he had even noticed she was female, let alone an attractive one!

‘How are Madison and Gideon?’ her mother asked interestedly. ‘And the adorable Keilly, of course,’ she added indulgently.

‘I can see my niece has been breaking hearts this side of the Atlantic, too,’ Jonathan recognised. ‘Maddie and Gideon are fine. They’re visiting Maddie’s godfather and his wife at the moment; Edgar and Claire have a four-month-old son. Actually, I believe Claire is Manx,’ he continued thoughtfully. ‘Her name was Christian before she married Edgar,’ he explained helpfully.

‘A good Manx name,’ Tory’s father said approvingly.

‘So I believe,’ Jonathan replied. ‘It’s the name they’ve given the baby.’

‘I can’t say we know a Claire Christian…do we, Thelma?’ Tory’s father said.

‘Sorry.’ Her mother smiled apologetically. ‘I expect your parents are thrilled about little Keilly, aren’t they? Is it their first grandchild?’

‘They are. And it is. So far…’ Jonathan confirmed dryly.

Tory gave him a thoughtful glance. Her own parents might not think any man was good enough to marry her, but that didn’t stop them wanting grandchildren of their own. Could Jonathan’s parents, now that they had one grandchild, possibly be putting the same emotional pressure on him? Probably, she decided. It seemed to be the way with parents that they wanted to see their children happily settled.

Although if Jonathan had reached the age of thirty-two or thirty-three without succumbing to matrimony, and he had come alone on his visit to the island, it didn’t look as if it was a possibility in the near future!

‘And Gideon’s parents?’ her mother continued happily. ‘I expect they’re thrilled, too?’

Jonathan’s expression didn’t change, and yet Tory felt other, subtle changes in him as he sat next to her, his body tense now, a certain wariness in his eyes.

Because her mother had mentioned Gideon’s parents? Or because she had mentioned Gideon himself? Did the two men not get on?

She found the latter hard to believe. The two men were very alike. Gideon was also forceful, very self-possessed—like this man, to the point of arrogance. Or perhaps Jonathan just didn’t think Gideon was good enough for Madison? Tory believed older brothers could be like that, too.

Not that Tory had any siblings of her own, older or younger, but she could imagine Jonathan being quite protective of his ‘little sister’…

‘Gideon’s parents are both dead,’ Jonathan finally answered harshly, putting his knife and fork down on his almost empty plate. ‘And now I really think I should be going; I’ve interrupted your Sunday afternoon for long enough,’ he added, with what seemed to Tory a deliberately forced softening of his tone.

Her mother looked surprised. ‘But we haven’t had dessert yet,’ she protested with light rebuke.

Tory knew only too well, no one was allowed to leave without eating her mother’s desserts!

She stood up. ‘Would you like to help me clear the plates, Jonathan?’ she suggested. ‘Then you can sample Mum’s cherry pie and tell her which one you prefer—the apple or the cherry.’ She smiled at her blushing mother.

Perhaps it wasn’t quite the thing to do to ask the guest to help clear away, but it had seemed to Tory that Jonathan needed a brief respite from a conversation that seemed to be getting a little too personal for his liking. Or comfort!

Not that she could say what could possibly make him feel uncomfortable talking about his sister and her husband; she just knew that it was.

Unless it was just that he had had enough of their provincial company for one day. After all, being based in Reno, involved in the running of casinos, he would obviously be used to a much more sophisticated form of entertainment. And company!

‘Thank you for that,’ he said quietly once they reached the kitchen, putting the plates he carried down on the side.

Tory looked at the muscled width of his back as he stood turned away from her, once again wondering why a man like him had decided to bury himself on the Isle of Man for an indefinite period, and once again coming up with no answer!

Or perhaps, like her, he just needed some time and space to be able to think…?

Also, like her, he wasn’t about to discuss what he was thinking about with a third party…