One Night with His Virgin Mistress

She said, ‘But there is nowhere else. Besides, I was invited by your brother. I was relying on him. Does that make no difference to you?’

‘None at all,’ he said brusquely. ‘And if you’d known him better— or used a little common sense—you’d have saved yourself a lot of trouble. Because Kit had no right to make such an arrangement with you, or anyone else. And, in future, he certainly won’t be staying here either,’ he added grimly. ‘So Veronica can go hang herself.’

He’d mentioned the name before. ‘Is that Kit’s mother?’

‘Unfortunately, yes.’ His tone was clipped.

‘Then perhaps I could speak to her about all this. Ask her to contact Kit and get it sorted out. After all, she must know that the flat doesn’t belong to him, and she might help.’

His mouth curled. ‘I don’t recommend it. For one thing, Kit is the apple of her eye, and therefore can do no wrong. She would simply blame you for misunderstanding one of the dear boy’s misguided acts of kindness.’ His voice was cynical. ‘Besides, she’s always regarded anything with the name Benedict attached to it as communal property and encouraged Kit to do the same.’

He paused. ‘And she would almost certainly regard you as some female predator in pursuit of him, and decide that he’d gone to Australia simply to get away from you.’

Tallie stiffened. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

He shrugged. ‘Undoubtedly, but that won’t stop her, and I can promise you that a penniless would-be writer isn’t at all what she has in mind for her only chick. So I’d steer well clear, if I were you.’

‘If you were me,’ she said, ‘you wouldn’t be in this mess.’

His smile was reluctant. ‘No, I wouldn’t.’

‘So what happens now?’ She tried for nonchalance, and missed. ‘Do I get thrown—bag and baggage—into the street?’

He was silent for a moment, his mouth compressed into grimness. ‘How long have you been living in London?’

‘A year,’ she returned defensively, guessing what was coming.

‘Long enough to make friends who might put you up on a temporary basis?’

She didn’t look at him as she shook her head. She must seem absolutely pathetic, she thought. A genuine Natalie No-mates. Yet several of the girls she’d worked with had invited her for a drink after work, which might have been a first step to friendship. But she’d always been obliged to refuse because she’d been working and she needed to keep every penny of her earnings for the future.

And, of course, there was Lorna, friend from her school days, who’d help if she could in spite of the inconvenience, especially if she discovered Tallie was in dire straits. Only it simply wasn’t fair to impose that kind of pressure on her, she told herself. No, she had to find her own solution.

‘And before London?’ He sighed abruptly. ‘No, don’t tell me. You lived at home with your parents, probably in some nice village full of nice people.’

‘And if I did?’ she demanded, stung by the weary note in his voice. He looked tired too, she realised for the first time, with the scar deepening the strained lines beside his mouth and the shadows beneath those amazing eyes, reminding her of the ordeal he’d just returned from.

My God, she thought. In a moment I’ll be feeling sorry for him—if I’m not careful.

She rallied herself. ‘What’s wrong with village life?’

‘Nothing, in theory,’ he said. ‘In practice, it’s not the ideal way to equip yourself for life in the big city. Too big a jump to reality. Which is why I can’t simply get rid of you, right here and now, as I’d like to do, because it would be like throwing a puppy out on to the motorway.’

Tallie gasped indignantly. ‘How bloody patronising is that? Kindly don’t treat me like a child.’

‘Well, you certainly didn’t appreciate my willingness to treat you like a woman,’ he said softly. ‘If you remember…’ His voice died into tantalising silence and the green eyes swept insolently over her, as if the protection of the thick folds of towelling suddenly no longer existed. Making it hideously, indelibly clear that he hadn’t forgotten a thing about their initial encounter, and might even be relishing the memory.