An Exception to His Rule

by Lindsay Armstrong

  ‘But you don’t seem to have that problem,’ she said at last. ‘I mean I get the feeling you’d be quite happy to “start something”.’ Her glance was very blue and tinged with irony.

  He crossed his arms and studied her thoughtfully. ‘Yes, but, to be perfectly honest, if there is such a thing as...’ he paused as if searching for the right phrase ‘...love ever after, I don’t think it’s going to exist for me.’

  Harriet’s eyes widened. ‘Your marriage...’ She trailed off awkwardly.

  He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Isabel?’

  ‘No. Charlie.’

  He looked heavenward. ‘I might have known.’ Then, ‘Well, you probably don’t need me to elaborate.’

  ‘All he told me was her name—and that he’d got firmly put in his place for merely mentioning it a little while back.’

  Damien grimaced. ‘Sounds like Charlie.’

  ‘Sounds like you, actually.’ A faint smile twisted her lips. ‘So, it left you disillusioned?’

  ‘It did a lot more damage.’ He looked across the room and his dark eyes were cold. ‘But, yep, it certainly left me unwilling to repeat the experience—I know!’ He raised his hand as Harriet opened her mouth. ‘You’re going to say with another woman it could be different. Perhaps. But not for me. I don’t part easily from my grudges, be they personal or embracing an institution like marriage.’

  Something like a shiver ran down Harriet’s spine because she had a feeling his estimation of his character was correct...

  ‘In a way, we’re a bit alike,’ he said then, drumming his fingers on the table. ‘Too much responsibility at an early age, only it took us differently.’ He paused, looking briefly humorous. ‘You wanted someone to take over; I got too used to being in command to be able to bend at all.’

  ‘How come?’

  He shrugged. ‘I was twenty-two when my father died. And we were about to be taken over so I had to stave that off and get us up and running again. That’s when I made the dicey decision to expand into mining machinery when we’d always concentrated on agriculture and its machinery.

  ‘Plus,’ he said rather wryly, ‘I think I was born with an “ornery” streak. Arthur agrees with me.’

  ‘Talking of Arthur,’ Harriet said with a smile, ‘Penny is pregnant.’

  Damien grimaced.

  ‘You don’t approve of her, do you?’

  ‘I think she manipulates him shamelessly,’ he said dryly, then grinned. ‘He’ll need plenty of support to get through this! He’ll be a nervous wreck.’

  Harriet laughed.

  Damien put his coffee mug down and simply watched her. Her hair was tied back but becoming wayward as it escaped. Her skin was unbelievably smooth, her hands and wrists slender and elegant, and her eyes were like deep blue velvet and still sparkling with amusement.

  He said slowly, with his dark gaze still resting on her, ‘I don’t know how the hell I didn’t see it the first time we met but you’re breathtaking when you laugh.’

  ‘I had nothing to laugh about at the time,’ she said, still smiling. But gradually it faded as she moved awkwardly and nearly knocked her coffee over.

  ‘So nothing’s changed?’ he said barely audibly as his gaze tracked her awkward movements.

  ‘N-no,’ she stammered.

  ‘It doesn’t make it easier that we’ve both stated our cases and I think we’ve both indicated we’re not talking love ever after?’

  Harriet tilted her head as she studied him with a frown in her eyes. ‘No,’ she said slowly.

  ‘Any special reason?’ he enquired dryly.

  ‘I’m—I don’t think I’m like that. I seem to be an all or nothing kind of person. In that regard,’ she said thoughtfully.

  Damien Wyatt smiled in a way that brought to mind an unamused tiger. ‘You shouldn’t go around saying things like that, Harriet Livingstone.’

  ‘Why not? I think it’s true.’

  ‘It’s also an incendiary kind of statement,’ he murmured dryly.

  Harriet looked at him wide-eyed. ‘I...I’m not sure what you mean...’ She faltered into silence. Then a flood of colour poured into her cheeks as his meaning became plain and she jumped up so precipitously she took Tottie by surprise and she tripped over her.

  This time Damien Wyatt was too far away to rescue her and she’d fallen to her knees when he got to her.

  ‘It’s all right, I can manage,’ she panted and held a hand out as if to ward him off as she scrambled to her feet. ‘I didn’t mean to...to imply,’ she went on, ‘what you obviously thought I meant to imply.’

  ‘What was that?’ he enquired and looked as if he was having trouble keeping his face straight as he steadied her with his hands on her waist.

  ‘That—oh! You know what I mean!’ Her expression was seriously frustrated.

  ‘That you’re only great in bed when you believe you’re in love?’

  She nodded then shook her head, more frustrated than ever. ‘I didn’t say anything about being great in bed and—’

  ‘I’d like to bet you are, though,’ he broke in.

  ‘There’s no way you could possibly know that!’ she said heatedly.

  He gestured. ‘You’re talking to a guy who’s kissed you, remember?’

  Harriet subsided a little. ‘Well,’ she said uncertainly.

  ‘And you did suggest you were an all or nothing kind of person in that regard, which suggests—which conjures up certain images,’ he said gravely, but she just knew his dark eyes were laughing at her.

  She took a distressed breath and formed her hands into fists. ‘Don’t laugh at me,’ she warned.

  ‘Or?’ he queried, his hands still on her waist. ‘You don’t expect to slug it out with me, do you?’ He eyed her clenched fists.

  ‘I would like nothing better,’ she confirmed with great feeling again.

  ‘How about testing out the other side of the coin?’ he suggested, and pulled her closer.

  She stiffened and urged herself into battle mode. Resist this, she told herself fiercely. Don’t fall under his spell as you did last time, don’t get mesmerised again. Don’t allow the somehow simply wonderful feeling of being in his arms to overcome you and make you dizzy with delight. Dizzy and delighted because he feels so strong, because he knows just how and where to touch you and arouse you... She started as he spoke again.

  ‘How about—this?’ And he slid his fingers beneath her top and cupped her breasts.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  HARRIET TREMBLED AND he felt it through his fingers.

  ‘If it’s nice for you, you only need to nod,’ he said huskily. ‘Believe me—’ he moved his fingers across her nipples ‘—it’s sensational for me.’

  Harriet’s lips parted and she unclenched her fists and grasped his wrists instead. She didn’t nod but she did say, ‘You have a way of doing that—that’s breathtaking but—’

  ‘You’d rather I didn’t?’ he suggested, narrowing his eyes suddenly.

  Harriet closed her eyes briefly. ‘I’d much rather fly to the moon with you, Damien Wyatt,’ she said barely audibly, ‘but I can’t help knowing I’d regret it sooner or later.’

  ‘Another incendiary statement.’

  She bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.’ And there were tears in her eyes.

  He hesitated for a long moment then he withdrew his hands and smoothed her top down. ‘You win,’ he drawled.

  Harriet flicked away the tears on her cheeks and steeled herself for more mockery. It didn’t come, not in the spoken form, anyway.

  He turned away and sprawled out in one of the chairs at the table. ‘Actually—’ he ran a hand through his hair ‘—you’re right, Ms Livingstone.’

  But being right, Harriet discovered, didn�
��t prevent him from subjecting her to a dark gaze full of dry amusement as he looked her up and down and mentally dispensed of all her clothes.

  She bore that sardonic scrutiny and mental undressing for as long as she could, determined not to turn away and thereby give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d upset her, but was just about to protest when he spoke.

  ‘Do you ride?’

  Harriet blinked. ‘Horses?’

  ‘Well, I don’t mean camels.’

  ‘I have, as a kid,’ she said cautiously.

  He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘Did you enjoy it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied but equally as cautiously as she wondered what was coming.

  ‘Just tell me this, Harriet. Would it be purgatory for you if I suggested we get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to take advantage of the low tide and go for a gallop down the beach? Tottie, I know, would love it.’

  ‘If I could ride Sprite...’ She paused and looked uncomfortable.

  She saw him process this. ‘So,’ he murmured, ‘you have a way with horses as well as dogs?’

  Harriet spread her hands. ‘Oh, I don’t know.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Sounds as if you’ve been chatting Sprite up already.’

  ‘I suppose I have,’ Harriet conceded ruefully.

  ‘Then—are we on for tomorrow morning, about five?’

  ‘I...’ Harriet swallowed but nothing could stop the flow of images running through her mind of a dawn gallop followed by a swim then a huge breakfast. ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘Good.’ He stood up. ‘Not—’ he eyed her with a glint of pure devilry in his dark eyes ‘—that there’ll be anything good about how to get to sleep tonight.’

  * * *

  It was no consolation to Harriet to reflect, as she tossed and turned in bed after Damien had gone, on one victory, one small victory perhaps, but all the same...

  She’d successfully withstood the sensual onslaught Damien could inflict on her, although inflict wasn’t the right word for it at all. But she had withstood the power of his masculine appeal, she’d tacitly told him to do his worst when he’d mentally undressed her—and then she’d gone and wrecked it all by agreeing to go riding with him.

  ‘Damn!’ She sat up in bed. ‘I must be mad. Apart from anything else, I know he’s only going to lead me to fresh heartache—I should be running for my life!’

  * * *

  At five o’clock the next morning she felt heavy-eyed and in an uneven frame of mind as she pulled on jeans, a jumper and sand shoes.

  Twenty minutes later, trotting down the track from the stables to the beach on the slightly fizzy Sprite, she was feeling marginally better, although only marginally, she assured herself.

  By the time they reached the beach, the sun was turning the sky into a symphony of apricot as it hovered below the horizon and the placid waters reflected the colours back.

  ‘Hang on,’ Damien said as he took hold of Sprite’s bridle and clipped on a leading rein so that she and Sprite were forced to adapt to his slower gait.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Harriet asked.

  ‘Taking precautions, that’s all,’ he replied.

  ‘I can assure you, you don’t need to!’

  ‘You said you rode as a child. That could mean you haven’t been on a horse for years.’

  ‘I’m perfectly capable of riding this horse,’ Harriet replied through her teeth.

  ‘But you have to admit you’re—well, if not exactly accident-prone, you do suffer from some weird syndrome that could cause all sorts of problems.’

  ‘Mr Wyatt—’ Harriet raised her riding crop ‘—don’t say another word and let me go before I do something you might regret but I won’t regret in the slightest!’

  ‘Harriet,’ he returned mildly, ‘it’s not very ladylike to keep attacking me.’

  Harriet groaned. ‘Let me go.’

  He hesitated briefly then unclipped the leading rein. Sprite, who’d been dancing around impatiently on the end of it, jostled his big brown horse, had the temerity to bestow a love bite on its neck, then, following Harriet’s dictates, lengthened her stride and galloped away. Tottie raced after them joyously.

  By the time they’d reached the end of the beach and galloped back, Harriet’s mood had evened out—she was feeling far less grumpy and even of the opinion that this had been a good idea.

  And, following Damien, she rode Sprite into the gentle low-tide surf. Both horses loved it and splashed energetically until finally they brought them out, led them to the edge of the beach and tied them loosely to trees.

  ‘I’m soaked!’ Harriet sank down onto the sand but she was glowing with enthusiasm as she sat cross-legged.

  Damien cast himself down beside her and doodled in the sand with a twig. He hadn’t shaved and he had a curious glint in his dark eyes as he looked across to study her.

  ‘Tell me something,’ he said. ‘Are you not a morning person?’

  Harriet opened her mouth, closed it, then she grinned. ‘I am not. Well, not a very early morning person.’ She was about to add—and particularly not after a disturbed night—but managed to hold that bit of information back. ‘I take it you’re the opposite?’

  ‘Depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘What’s on offer in bed.’

  Harriet looked heavenwards. ‘Do men ever think of anything else?’

  ‘Frequently.’ He shot her an amused glance. ‘Not, generally, at five in the morning with a warm, compliant partner, however.’

  Harriet frowned as the wheels of her mind worked through this. Then she turned to him incredulously. ‘Did you get me up at that ungodly hour as a shot at me for not...for...not...for being...for not being in bed with you?’ she said exasperatedly.

  ‘If I did,’ he said wryly, ‘I had no idea the danger I was placing myself in. I’ll probably think twice before I do it again.’

  ‘Oh!’ Harriet ground her teeth as she stared at him, so big, so relaxed, so attractive, even if he hadn’t shaved and his hair was hanging in his eyes, not to mention the fact that he was teasing her mercilessly.

  ‘But of course,’ he went on before Harriet could speak, ‘the real reason I got you up at the crack of dawn was because of the tide. You need a low tide and therefore firm wet sand to gallop on. By the way, where did you learn to ride like that?’

  Harriet closed her mouth and subsided somewhat. Then she shrugged and smiled. ‘My father decided it needed to be part of my education. He restored a couple of valuable paintings for a wealthy horse breeder who was once a jockey in exchange for riding lessons. He had a few other notions along those lines—I had tennis lessons under similar circumstances, not so successful; my—’ she cast him a quirky glance ‘—weird syndrome interfered with me becoming a Wimbledon champion.’

  He laughed and looked at her curiously again. ‘You’re full of surprises—docile and ladylike on one hand then quite a termagant.’

  ‘Docile!’ Harriet pulled a face. ‘That sounds awful. So does termagant. I’m sure I’m not either of those.’

  ‘You’re also younger sometimes. The ladylike you could be ten years older.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ Harriet objected but found she had to laugh a little. ‘You know, the art world takes itself very seriously sometimes, so one may get into the habit of being very serious-minded without quite realising it.’

  He laughed then glanced at his watch. ‘OK. I’ve got things to do.’

  He got up and untied his horse but Harriet stayed where she was, quite unaware that she looked disappointed.

  ‘Harriet?’

  She looked up to see him frowning down at her.

  ‘This is how you want it, isn’t it?’ he queried.

  She froze t
hen a heartbeat later she scrambled up. ‘Sure! Let’s go!’

  But upstairs in the flat after she’d showered and was eating breakfast alone, it wasn’t how she wanted it at all, she had to confess to herself.

  * * *

  She worked furiously for the next couple of days then Charlie came home for a long weekend and it was his birthday and he’d decided to have a party.

  If she hadn’t been so engrossed in her work, she’d have noticed the preparations going on in the big house, but she hadn’t. Therefore it took her by surprise when Isabel asked her what she’d be wearing.

  ‘Wearing?’

  ‘To Charlie’s birthday party.’

  ‘When?’

  Isabel clicked her tongue. ‘Tomorrow. You’re invited.’

  ‘No I’m not.’ Harriet put down the ivory figurine of a dolphin she was holding.

  ‘But I put an invitation—’ Isabel broke off, looked around and stepped over to the table beside the door where she picked up several items of mail, one of which she then brandished at Harriet, looking exasperated. ‘Even if you didn’t see this, surely you noticed that something was going on?’

  Harriet coloured. ‘No. I’m sorry. And thank you very much for inviting me—’

  ‘Charlie did,’ Isabel corrected.

  ‘Charlie then, but I couldn’t possibly come.’

  ‘Why on earth not?’ Isabel stared at her with the light of battle clearly lit in her dark Wyatt eyes.

  Harriet heaved a sigh. ‘I’m—I’m an employee, Isabel,’ she said but tartly despite the sigh, ‘and don’t forget it! Look, I’m sorry if I sound snippy or rude but sometimes it’s the only way to deal with you Wyatts.’ To her horror, tears stood out in her eyes but she carried on relentlessly. ‘I’m not coming and that’s that.’

  ‘Not coming where?’

  Both Harriet and Isabel swung around to see Damien standing in the doorway.

  ‘Charlie’s party,’ Isabel said bitterly.

  Harriet turned away. There had been no more dawn rides on the beach; in fact she’d hardly seen Damien since that magical morning.

  ‘That’s OK,’ Damien said easily. ‘It’s her choice.’