‘Unlike my loser father, you mean?’
The Baron sighed. ‘I didn’t mean to sound as if I was passing judgment.’ He moved aside as a plate was placed in front of him. ‘Though you do seem to have inherited your father’s acerbic wit.’
Score one for the older gentleman, Carly thought, completely disconcerted when she glanced across the table to find Dare staring at her.
‘That’s not all I inherited,’ Dare bit out tautly.
‘Duck à l’orange,’ the Baron said, inhaling the fragrance as the servant stepped back. ‘My favourite.’
Carly gave him a secret smile. ‘I do relent sometimes,’ she teased.
‘This is all very nice,’ Dare bit out, not hiding the fact that he didn’t think it was nice at all. ‘But I didn’t come here to discuss food or to make small talk.’
Tension crossed the table like laser beams.
‘I can see that,’ the Baron said. He put down his fork. ‘What did you come for, Dare? To put me in my place?’
‘It’s no less than you deserve.’
‘I’m not going to argue with you about that,’ Benson said quietly, ‘but you have to understand I’ve only recently become abridged of your father’s death. And of the fact that Rachel must have struggled for years afterwards. That she even had a child. You!’
‘And you think that entitles you to contact her?’ Dare said with barely leashed fury. ‘You rejected her. You kicked her out when she chose my father over your archaic expectations. But she doesn’t need you now. She’s doing fine.’
‘Thanks to you,’ Benson acknowledged softly.
‘My mother is a strong woman with high morals. She would have made it fine without me.’
Completely shocked by Dare’s revelations, Carly felt like an interloper with no idea how to ease the tension between the two men.
‘Perhaps we should save this conversation for when we’re alone.’ The Baron touched Carly’s hand as he spoke and she realised she had a forkful of food held halfway to her mouth. ‘There’s no need to ruin Carly’s appetite, hmm?’
‘But it was okay to ruin my mother’s life?’ Dare’s gaze was harsh when it landed on her again and her heart thumped behind her breastbone. ‘By all means.’ He stabbed a morsel of food on his plate. ‘Let’s not upset the lovely Carly. Tell me, Miss Evans, how long have you known my grandfather?’
Clearing her throat, and glad for the opportunity to turn the conversation away from the Baron in case it ratcheted up his blood pressure, Carly smiled politely. ‘A few months now.’ She had met Benson at a nearby clinic when he’d first presented with breathing problems and when he’d learned she was temping he’d requested her services.
‘And when did you move in?’
Distracted by his mesmerising blue eyes, she took a sip of her sparkling wine. ‘Three weeks ago. I...’ She stopped, realising that she was about to reveal the reason for her stay. ‘I—’
‘I know of Carly’s family,’ Benson cut in to save her. ‘A happy coincidence really. Our ancestors fought together against the Jacobite Rebellion in 1715. Carly is the relative of a famous viscount.’
Dare curled his lip as if he couldn’t have cared if she were directly in line to the throne. And her heritage hardly counted when she was the distant cousin of a cousin, and her family had lived a very humble existence for well over a century now.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ Roberts said, approaching Benson. ‘A phone call has come through. I think you’ll want to take it.’
‘Fine, Roberts. Thank you.’
Looking irritated at the interruption, Benson pushed to his feet and took the hands-free phone proffered by the butler. He frowned in Carly and Dare’s direction. ‘I apologise for this interruption.’
As soon as the door closed behind him Carly was acutely aware of the antique clock ticking away in the corner of the room and the lean, powerful male regarding her across the table.
Dare James was too big, too sure of himself, and too arrogant for her liking. Oh, he didn’t exactly have Daniel’s air of cultured superiority over others—something she hadn’t noticed until Daniel had well and truly humiliated her—no, Dare’s was more a latent power that drew the eye and let everyone around him know that he was in charge. Which was just as bad.
The T-shirt he wore did little to contain the bulge in his biceps and he looked as if he had the strength to rip a giant oak out of the ground and snap it in half. Right now he looked as if he wanted to snap her in half.
A shiver raced down her spine at the memory of those large hands skimming over her, leaving her hot and bothered. She’d attributed her earlier physical response to the heat of the day and her worry over Gregory muddling her senses. Now she knew that it was her feminine instincts signalling danger with capital letters and she was listening. This time, she was definitely listening.
‘More wine, Miss Evans?’
Carly regarded him warily as he picked up the wine bottle. As tempted as she was to settle her sudden nervousness with more alcohol, Carly knew drinking any more would put her at a disadvantage with this man. ‘No, thank you.’ She cleared her throat, searching around her frazzled mind for something to say. ‘So, is this your first time at Rothmeyer House?’ she asked.
‘You mean you don’t know?’
‘No,’ she said politely, her mind still absorbing what she had heard about his family history. ‘Should I?’
Dare watched her nibble on the corner of her lower lip and he almost felt sorry for her. Then he remembered why she was even here and felt like snarling. ‘I would have thought so.’
‘I can’t imagine why.’
‘So sweet,’ he murmured, wondering if her lips would feel as soft as they looked.
She frowned. ‘I can see that you’re very upset with your grandfather but do you really think that coming over all macho and being aggressive is going to help the situation?’
‘Oh, good,’ he said. ‘We finally get to the part of the evening where we give up pretending we have to be polite to each other.’
Carly stared at him in shocked silence and Dare nearly laughed. What did she expect? That he would welcome his grandfather’s innocent little mistress into his life with open arms? Not likely.
‘I wasn’t aware that you had been polite,’ she mocked. ‘I must have missed that brief moment in time.’
Dare laughed. ‘You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.’
She frowned at him. ‘Is this because I ran out in front of you on the road?’ she asked. Her expression so sweetly confused he found himself wanting to be taken in by her.
‘Try again,’ he said, calling himself a fool.
‘Try again?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to try again. I have no idea why you’re being so hostile towards me.’
‘You think I’m hostile?’
He knew damned well he was being hostile, Carly thought. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she was usually the doctor others called on to deal with belligerent patients. ‘Yes, you’re being hostile,’ she said calmly.
‘On the contrary, I don’t think I’ve been hostile at all. But if it makes you feel better, then I’ll try to fix it.’
Carly let out a relieved breath. ‘Thank you.’ She gave him a shaky smile. ‘It’s just that your grandfather is very...tired at the moment.’
‘Oh, now that’s just showing off, Red.’
Showing off? Red? Carly’s teeth ground together at his mocking tone. ‘It’s a basic human kindness to be civil,’ she reminded him. ‘If he were a stranger on the street I’m sure you wouldn’t say the things you have.’
‘But he’s not a stranger on the street. He’s a wealthy old fool.’ He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘And while we’re on the subject, I have to commend you on your fast work. You must hav
e some very special attributes to get in here in under a month.’
Carly frowned. If this was him trying to be less hostile he needed to go see someone about it. ‘What do you mean by fast work?’
‘The innocent confusion is good,’ he murmured. ‘It’s a real turn-on. But I’m quite sure you know that. Tell me, Miss Evans, do you like books?’
Carly blinked. ‘Books?’
‘Those things people used to read in print form, but now mostly download online.’
‘I believe they still print books, Mr James,’ she said, a glimmer of anger burning low in her stomach. ‘But, yes, I like to read.’
‘I’m being facetious, Red.’ He smiled easily. ‘I prefer non-fiction to fiction. You?’
Carly would prefer to be anywhere but having to look into his handsome face. ‘Both are good,’ she said warily, wondering where he was going with this.
‘Personally I’m too straightforward for fiction. I don’t like things that are made-up.’
‘Well, it depends on the author’s imagination,’ Carly said, pushing a strand of hair that had come loose from her bun back behind her ear.
‘Do you have a good one?’ He ran the tip of his index finger along the long stem of his wineglass.
‘Miss Evans?’
Carly blinked. ‘Book?’
‘Imagination?’
‘I... I like to think so, but I’m not an author. I couldn’t wri—’
‘Helen Garner is an author I admire.’
‘Who?’
‘I wouldn’t expect you to know who she is. She’s Australian. Very literary. I lived in Australia for a while when I was young. Did you know that?’
‘No.’ Carly glanced at the door wishing the Baron would hurry up and return. ‘Look, Mr James—’
‘Call me Dare.’
Carly let out a breath. ‘This is all very fascinating but—’
‘My mother discovered Ms Garner’s work first, but then I happened to study her at university.’
‘University?’ Her voice sounded shaky and she cleared it.
‘Keep up, Red.’ His smile was so phony she wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a deck of tarot cards and started reading her fortune. ‘A university is an institution one attends when they’re looking to better themselves.’
‘I know what a university is, Mr James,’ she said from between her teeth. ‘I’m just struggling to follow the conversation.’
‘Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. You have other great qualities that are far more important, but you know that, don’t you?’ His eyes held hers. ‘Are you sure you won’t have another drink? Benson’s pulled out all stops with the wine.’
As she realised that he had only been amusing himself at her expense Carly’s slowly simmering anger just met its point of ignition. ‘I’m trying to be pleasant here,’ she bit out.
Dare rose from his seat, wine bottle in hand. ‘Believe me, Red, so am I.’
Like hell. She glared at him. ‘Call me that name again and you won’t like the consequences.’
Many children had tried while she’d been growing up and they’d got the wrong end of her temper every time.
‘Is that a threat?’ he mocked.
Carly took a deep breath and told herself not to let him get to her. Then she didn’t care. ‘I don’t like what you’ve been implying,’ she said, facing him squarely. ‘Why not come right to the point if you’re so straightforward?’
He rounded the table and prowled towards her. Carly had to fight every bone in her body not to get up and run.
‘You picked up on that, huh?’
‘On your veiled animosity?’ She gave him a superior smile of her own. ‘Even a small child would have found it hard to miss.’
‘But then children are so perceptive. Do you want children, Red?’
He reached out and brushed the loose strand of her hair back behind her ear. Carly gasped, twisting in her seat to look up at him. ‘You don’t care if I want children or not,’ she said, distracted by the way her skin tingled where his fingers had grazed it.
‘Not really,’ he agreed affably, leaning on the back of her chair. ‘But if they’re on your agenda you might want to consider Benson’s age. He won’t exactly be pitching a football with the youngster in the backyard. Not that the backyard isn’t big enough. You made sure of that first, didn’t you?’
Carly would speak but she wasn’t sure she could pry her teeth apart to get words out.
If she wasn’t mistaken this Neolithic fool had just accused her of being his grandfather’s mistress. She wasn’t sure what she thought was worse. The fact that he believed her to have been intimate with a man nearly three times her age, or that he thought her a gold-digger.
Incensed beyond all reason, Carly tried to shove her chair back but found she couldn’t because he had effectively caged her by bracing his arms on either side of her chair, his palms flat on the tabletop.
‘Temper, temper, Red.’ His warm breath feathered across her ear. ‘What will Benson think if he comes back and finds you all riled up?’
‘Hopefully he’ll kick you out!’ She knew she’d said the wrong thing by the way his muscles bunched in his arms. Her earlier analogy with that tree came to mind and she swallowed heavily. But instead of breaking her in half he leaned closer.
‘I wanted to kiss you today, Red.’ She jumped as something gently brushed the side of her face. His nose? ‘Out there on that hot, dusty road.’
Carly struggled to swallow. ‘No,’ she said automatically.
‘Oh, yes.’
Carly jerked sideways as he inhaled her scent but that only pressed her up against the solid mass of his opposite shoulder, giving him access to the line of her neck. He was so close she felt enveloped by his heady, male warmth. ‘And you wanted to kiss me too.’
‘No!’ she denied, pulling herself together. ‘You’re a bigger fool than I first thought if you believe that.’ She gave a short, sharp laugh to reinforce her words.
He sniffed behind her ear. ‘You smell sweet.’
Every part of Carly froze except her pulse, which was racing. Was he about to kiss her? If he was...if he was she would...stop breathing.
‘I’m right is what I am,’ he murmured. ‘I think you’d like me to do it even now with the old man in the next room. Should we give him a show?’
Before she could pick up the water jug and dump its contents over his insolent head the door to the dining room swung open. Dare slowly straightened, picked up the wine bottle, and poured her wine as if that were all he’d been doing all along.
Hot colour swept over Carly’s face and she forced a smile to her lips.
‘So sorry for the interruption,’ Benson said, resuming his seat. ‘That was Beckett.’
‘How is he?’ Carly asked, her voice pitched just a little too high. Really she couldn’t care less about Beckett, but he was a safer topic than the man slowly making his way back to his seat as if nothing had just happened between them.
And nothing had, she reminded herself. He was taunting her, that was all, because he was a rude, callous individual with no manners whatsoever. What she wouldn’t give to wipe that superior smile off his face and tell him she’d rather kiss a snake. Only he was a snake, she thought venomously. It was unfair of him to include her in his bad feelings for his grandfather. Making assumptions about her out of hand.
If she had wanted to bring him down a peg or two earlier, she wanted to even more now. Especially as he sat slouched back in his chair, gazing at her as if he were the king of the world. Well, he wasn’t king of her world, and, oh, how she’d like to wipe that crooked grin from his face. He was enjoying her discomfort, damn him.
But to correct his nefarious assumptions would be to disclose her real reason for being
here and she’d assured the Baron that she’d keep his secret for as long as he wanted to. And although she felt sure that Benson would be horrified at the conclusions his grandson had drawn she wasn’t going to bring them up now.
And perhaps it would be better to let the arrogant Dare James labour under his misapprehensions about her.
Let him hang himself with them. The embarrassment he would no doubt feel at being so wrong about her—and his grandfather—would keep a smile on her face for days.
Yes. She let out a slow breath. She was going to enjoy watching this arrogant stranger squirm when he found out that, not only was she not a greedy little gold-digger, but that she was probably more qualified than he was.
University... She raised her wineglass in the air and gave him a small toast. She knew all about university and before she was finished with him he would know that she was a woman to look out for. A woman who was not going to be cowed by a man like him ever again.
And as for wanting to kiss him? She couldn’t think of anything more revolting than having his smug mouth on hers.
She brought her glass to her lips, pleased with how steady and cool she felt, how detached. But then his gaze dropped to her mouth and her equilibrium wavered, all but disintegrating when the tip of his tongue came out to touch his bottom lip as if he was thinking about how she would taste.
It was a brief, subtle move but it set every one of her nerves on edge.
She had to force the cool liquid down past the lump in her throat without choking but she did it, and was pleased with herself until she realised that he was deliberately trying to put her off stride again. And it had worked. She now felt as if she were burning up from the inside out.
Damn him.
The man was beyond evil. He was a demon. The devil himself.
Fortunately the Baron chose that moment to break into their silent stand-off with a comment about the meal, which Carly had completely forgotten about.
She pushed the last of it around her plate as if her appetite hadn’t fled, but then she noticed how pale Benson looked and could have kicked herself.
Defying the Billionaire's Command Page 4
