before going into the family business because he’d got on better with Page—his step-uncle—than he had with his own father?
‘You mean…this is Page’s granddaughter?’
As the woman whispered her surprised disbelief Alex could feel York’s hard scrutiny. Unconsciously, her nails dug into her palms. What was he expecting her to say? That she remembered his mother vividly? And what was he going to do? Expose her as a fraud? Pick her up bodily and cart her off to the nearest police station if she said she didn’t?
Surprisingly, the thought of his handling her made her veins pulse with something more unwelcome than just the revulsion and resentment she knew she should only have room for, and, striving for something intelligible to say that wouldn’t further increase his suspicions about her, she couldn’t have been more relieved when his mother chipped in.
‘It’s gratifying to see you here, dear. Let us hope that now we can begin to put the past behind us. I’m Celia, if you weren’t already aware,’ she elucidated, her kind, friendly manner causing a pang of guilt in Alex because she wasn’t exactly here to make peace with the family as Celia thought.
‘But really, York,’ the woman went on, amiably reprimanding her son, ‘your memory doesn’t usually let you down. You must be overworking, darling, or keeping your mind on too many other things, otherwise you’d have remembered me saying only recently that I’d never had the chance to meet Shirley’s daughter.’
Well, thank heaven for that! Breathing a sigh of relief, Alex smilingly made some appropriate response, and from under her lashes sent a cursory glance towards the tall man beside her.
He was looking smug, as though he’d enjoyed her moment of discomfort, even if it had backfired on him before he’d been able to expose her to what she realised now was his sheer, machiavellian cunning. Then the second woman had moved across to him, smiling her appreciation for what she clearly saw as a very personable man as she expressed a few fond remarks about his uncle and stepped away.
‘I hope I’ll see you back at the house and that we’ll have some time to get to know each other, Alexia, before I leave for Dublin,’ Celia said with warm sincerity.
‘Yes.’ It wasn’t a very positive response from Alex. She didn’t want to go anywhere where York was likely to be—and that included the house—although she wasn’t sure how she could avoid it if she was to find what she had come for. But, grateful for a flicker of warmth from one member of the Masterton family, she added, ‘Thanks. I hope so too.’
York’s expression was unfathomable, so that she couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he watched the two older women walking away. But, on finding herself disconcertingly alone with him again, Alex’s chin came up and, despite her pumping heart, she breathed, ‘You can’t intimidate me, York.’
‘Can’t I?’ The firm, thrusting lines of his jaw harshened as he gave her his full attention again. ‘Maybe not,’ he conceded. ‘But if you think you can just walk in here and stake a claim on my uncle’s generosity without my doing anything to stop you, you’ve got another think coming!’
His determination unnerved her. Nevertheless, in spite of it she managed to smile.
‘That should be interesting.’ Whatever Page Masterton had left his granddaughter, she wasn’t likely to be making any claim to it. Even so, she couldn’t help taunting,
‘And I thought you were rich enough, York.’ From the things she’d read about him it seemed he’d made millionaire status ten times over! ‘What ever could he have left me that could possibly make any difference to you?’
The grass crunched under his highly polished black shoes as he followed her down onto the path towards the church. ‘We’re going to require concrete evidence from you as to exactly who you are before we even begin to think about discussing that.’
Alex drew in a breath, colour rising in her cheeks. ‘I don’t have to prove anything to you!’
His eyes were astute, missing nothing. ‘Spare me the indignation, lady,’ he advised. ‘It’s going to take more than that to convince me…Alex. And my uncle’s solicitors are going to need more than just a sultry smile and that sexy New Zealand accent before they agree to grant you the half-share of the house.’
‘Half the house? Is that what he left…?’ Me, she had been going to finish with, but stopped herself short. She had no right to it. Nor did she want it-any of the Masterton money.
‘Over my dead body,’ he whispered, the venom in him causing a slick of fear to infiltrate her blood.
Hadn’t she learned from everything she had read about him—from his hard-nosed business acumen down to the hidden forces of his personality—how tough he was? Hadn’t Shirley warned her? Why, then, had she imagined she could come here like this?
‘If I’d been Page I would have disinherited you entirely.’
‘But he didn’t.’ Unexpectedly, something stirred in Alex—something she banked down before it could manifest itself into anything more concrete as she uttered, ‘And you resent that like hell, don’t you?’
The hard glitter in his eyes confirmed it, but it was resentment born solely out of his contempt for Shirley and whoever he thought she was, she was surprised to find herself acknowledging, rather than any sort of greed on his part.
‘Wouldn’t you,’ he returned, ‘if you’d seen a man virtually destroy himself because of the total disregard by his only daughter, and when her avaricious, alleged little offspring turns up to get her hands on the only thing Shirley didn’t already bleed him of—his money?’
She doubted if Page Masterton had ever cared enough about his daughter to suffer any sort of emotional trauma over her desertion, but all she said was, ‘“Alleged”, York?’ From beneath her lashes she slanted him a glance that was both challenging and watchful. ‘Are you still insinuating I’m not who I say I am?’
They had come to a standstill on the path. Beneath the bare trees York’s face was criss-crossed by shadows.
‘Are you?’ he demanded, his eyes narrowing with cold calculation.
Alex’s breathing stilled beneath the stylish cut of her coat. How Shirley’s intimidated little daughter would have savoured seeing him in such a state of ambivalence—so undecided—ten years ago!
She laughed, the sound easy on the cold, clear air. ‘You really don’t know, do you? And that’s what’s really bugging you, isn’t it, York? The fact that you aren’t really sure. Just for once you aren’t completely in control and you can’t stand it, can you…cousin dear? Well, you’ll just have to accept my word for it, won’t you?’ she finished, with bitter irony twisting her mouth.
His smile was slick, without warmth, cold as the day. ‘Accept the word of anyone who calls herself Shirley’s daughter? Hah! That’s laughable in itself! But whatever you are—freeloading little tramp or total charlatan—I’m warning you now, I’m a very dangerous man to cross. Make one false move—just one mistake—and I’ll…’
‘You’ll do what?’ she retaliated, undeterred by his threatening tone. ‘Clap me in irons?’
His eyes mocked her response, her whole defiant stance. ‘Is that how you like to play?
