“There’s a spare car at home that might suit you.” Rafe’s tone was casual. Clearly he saw nothing odd in offering a replacement vehicle.
She gave him a startled look. The lights of an oncoming car revealed the austere framework of his face, a study in angles and planes. Even the curve of his mouth—disturbingly sexy with its full lower lip—didn’t soften the overwhelming impression of force and power.
He looked exactly what he was—a ruler, born to authority …
A man to avoid. Yet every time she saw him—or thought of him—a forbidden, dangerous sensation darted through her. Fixing her eyes on the dark road ahead, she said firmly, “That’s a kind offer, but it’s not necessary.”
“Think it over before you refuse. I know you open the shop tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock?”
“Yes.”
“I’m coming into Tewaka just before then, so I could pick you up on the way. Then in the afternoon we could go out to my place and you can try the car.”
“That’s very kind of you …” she said warily, her voice trailing away as every instinct shouted a warning.
Dominant he might be, but it was ridiculous to think his offer meant he was trying to control her.
Ridiculous. Silently she said it again, with much more emphasis, while she searched for a valid reason to refuse.
“I can hear your but echoing around the car.” The note of cool amusement in his voice brought colour to her skin. “Independence is a good thing, but reluctance to accept help is taking it a bit too far.”
Crisply she returned, “Thank you, but there’s no need for you to put yourself out at all.”
His broad shoulders lifted in a negligent shrug. “If you’re ready on time tomorrow morning, calling for you will add less than five minutes to my journey.”
Marisa opened her mouth, but he cut in before she could speak, saying, “Small country towns—even tourist places like Tewaka—build strong communities where people can rely on each other when they need support. The car I’m offering used to belong to my grandmother. No one drives it now, but it’s in good shape.”
She rallied to say calmly, “I’ll accept your lift tomorrow, but I really won’t need to borrow a car. I can manage for a couple of days. And you don’t even know if I’m a good driver.”
Heat flared in the pit of her stomach when her eyes clashed with his sideways glance. There was altogether too much irony in the iron-grey depths—irony backed by a sensuous appreciation that appealed to some treacherous part of her.
She should be able to resist without even thinking about it.
Well, she was resisting—resisting like crazy.
Only she didn’t want to.
And that was truly scary. Rafe Peveril was really bad news—danger wrapped in muscled elegance, in powerful grace, in unexpected kindness …
“How good are you?” he asked almost idly, his tone subtly challenging.
Marisa took a short, fortifying breath to steady her voice. “I think I’m a reasonably proficient driver, but everyone believes they’re competent, don’t they? It’s very kind of you to offer the car—”
His mouth curved in a hard smile. “No more buts, please. And to set the record straight, I’m not particularly kind.”
That made sense. Men who made it to the top of whatever field they entered usually didn’t suffer from foolish generosity.
Remember that, she ordered the weak part of her that tempted her to—to what? Surrender? Accept being told what to do?
So stop that right now, she commanded abruptly, and squared her shoulders. She’d vowed never to allow herself to feel useless again and wasn’t going to renege on that promise just because this formidable man was offering her the use of a car.
So she said, “If I needed the help I’d accept it with gratitude, but it’s not necessary.” She might not buy food for a couple of days, but the pantry held enough to tide them over and independence was worth it.
“Right.” His tone changed, became brisk and businesslike as he turned the wheel to go up the short drive to the cottage. “However, the offer’s still open.”
Tracey met them at the door, her beam turning to blushing confusion when she saw who accompanied Marisa. Rafe knew how to deal with dazzled adolescents; his smile friendly, he offered the girl a ride back to the homestead.
Marisa watched the car go out of the gate and stood for a moment as another car came around the corner, slowed and then sped by. Shivering a little, she closed the door on the darkness, her thoughts tumbling and erratic.
Clearly Rafe Peveril was accustomed to getting his own way. And perhaps having grown up as son of the local big family, he felt some sort of feudal responsibility for the locals.
Well, he didn’t need to. This new local was capable of looking after herself and her son.
She walked into Keir’s room to check him. In the dim light of the hall lamp he looked angelic snuggled into the pillow, his face relaxed in sleep.
Her heart cramped. Whatever she did, she had to keep him safe.
But she stood watching him and wondered at the source of her unease. Rafe hadn’t recognised her.
And even if he did remember who she was and where they’d met, would it matter so much …?
Pretending she’d never seen him before now seemed to be taking caution too far, her response based on a fear she thought she’d overcome. Thanks to the strength she’d developed, David was no longer a threat to her and no threat to Keir either.
But only while he still believed that lie …
She drew in a deep breath, wondering if the room was too hot. But Keir hadn’t kicked off his bedclothes and a hand on his forehead revealed a normal temperature. Stooping, she dropped a light kiss on her son’s cheek, waited as he stirred and half-smiled and then relapsed back into sleep, then left.
Back in her bedroom, she walked across to the dressing table and opened a drawer, looking down at a photo taken by her father a few days after she’d arrived back home. Reluctant even to touch it, she shivered again.
Never again, she swore with an intensity that reverberated through her. That pale wraith of a woman—hopeless, helpless—was gone for ever. Wiser and much stronger now, she’d allow no arrogant male to get close to her.
So although Rafe Peveril was gorgeous and exciting and far too sexy in a powerfully male way, she’d take care to avoid him.
She closed the drawer and turned away to get ready for bed. All she had to do was inform him she could deal with the situation and keep saying it until he got the message.
And avoid him as much she could.
But
