Does it suit me?’
Surprisingly it did. The feminine delicacy of the piece presented an exotic contrast to the hard planes of his face and the square jaw shadowed by masculine stubble. But Kalera would die before she admitted it. He was here to cause trouble and she was not going to co-operate by being drawn into his game.
‘I think it looks freakish,’ said Stephen tightly, the words spilling out from behind his rigid control. ‘But then it’s typical of you, isn’t it, Duncan? Always some outlandish stunt to draw attention to yourself. You’d better be careful: one day people are going to figure out that you’re more show than substance.’
‘Ever the flatterer, Steve.’ Duncan was indifferent to the savage thrust, his interest still squarely centred on Kalera. ‘I suppose he’s told you how ravishing you look this evening,’ he said. His eyes ran over the soft sheen of white silk in a smouldering male appraisal that was completely different from the way he had looked at her that morning. This time his gaze was meant to disturb and arouse and Kalera was grateful for the slight stiffness of the heavy Thai silk which shielded her helpless feminine response to his honeyed blanishment.
It didn’t seem to matter that she knew he was mocking her. She could feel her breasts prickling against the cups of her soft lace bra and a dangerous electricity zigzagged through her veins and pooled at the base of her stomach. She unconsciously pressed her thighs together as she kept her expression serene. He didn’t have X-ray vision, for goodness’ sake; he couldn’t possibly know what she was feeling. But the knowing smile kindling in the navy eyes suggested that he could make a far too well educated guess!
‘And how very appropriate that you should be wearing the colour of purity and honour,’ he drawled, making her pulses spike with renewed apprehension. ‘Very bridal…especially with that radiant veil of hair.’ He lifted a pale gold lock which had slipped forward to coil on the tablecloth next to her tense elbow and began to curl the silky skein around his finger idly. ‘I had no idea it had grown so long. The last time you let your hair down so for me in such glorious abandon it was only halfway down your back, but now it’s past your waist…’
Kalera froze, her eyes darting furtively to Stephen, but he appeared so incensed by the sight of Duncan toying with her hair that he failed to notice any hint of collusion in his words.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded.
Duncan surveyed the living band of gold that thickly spanned his finger. ‘Just admiring your future bride.’
Stephen looked every bit as jumpy as Kalera felt. ‘You can do that without pawing at her!’
Duncan’s eyes widened insincerely. ‘I’m sorry, is that what I was doing, Kalera?’
He slowly unwound the curl and replaced the long tress against the white satin of her bodice, smoothing it back into its former position, seemingly unaware of her sharply indrawn breath as his knuckles skimmed the outer curve of her breast.
‘I said, take your hands off her!’ hissed Stephen, his face stiff with suppressed anger.
Duncan smiled, all innocence. ‘No need to get uptight, Steve. Kalera’s not complaining. She’s been with me for three years, after all. She’s used to me touching her. She knows I’m a very tactile person…’
Stephen disliked the shortened version of his name and Kalera guessed that Duncan knew it and was aiming for maximum provocation with minimum effort. She watched Stephen seethe behind his sophisticated air of self-possession, the closest she had ever seen him to losing his cool.
Duncan had half risen in his seat as he spoke and Kalera let out an inward sigh of relief at the prospect of his departure, but instead of leaving he bent over to heft the bottle from the silver ice-bucket standing on the other side of the table. His mouth kicked up as he read the French label.
‘As usual, only the best will do, huh, Steve? Shall I get the waiter to bring another champagne glass so that I can toast your good luck? Better still, let me buy you another bottle to show there’s no hard feelings. Give those gossipy old trouts out there a disappointment!’
He sat down again and made a small flourish with his fingers which must have been a pre-arranged signal, for a wine steward immediately came trotting up with a chilled bottle of the same vintage and a third crystal flute.
If his final comment was meant to be a threat, then it worked beautifully to his advantage. Stephen’s quick glance around the room told Kalera that, much as he would have liked to reject the offer coldly, he was a hostage to his own good manners. He wasn’t going to allow the rest of her evening to be spoiled by allowing them to become embroiled in an unpleasant scene.
They watched as the last of the champagne from the old bottle was poured into Duncan’s glass and the new one deftly opened.
‘To Kalera…’ said the brazen interloper, singing his glass softly against hers and looking deep into the mysterious grey depths of her eyes. ‘May you get everything you desire in this world. And to Steve—’ He turned, and this time the clash of crystal sounded out like the ring of swords. ‘May you get everything you so richly deserve.’
Stephen suddenly seemed impervious to insult, his smile redolent with triumph as he inclined his head.
‘Thank you, Duncan. With Kalera as my wife I’m sure I will,’ he said smoothly. ‘I won’t apologise for stealing her away from you because I don’t think you appreciated what a quiet gem you had in your possession until she told you she was leaving Labyrinth…for me. You took it for granted that working for the great Duncan Royal must be the most important thing in her life. Well, now you know that it’s not—so don’t think you can buy her back with a bottle of champagne and a few glib compliments because you can’t. She isn’t for sale!’
Kalera’s hands fluttered in silent protest, aghast at Stephen’s unnecessary defence of her integrity. If he was trying to avoid a scene he was definitely going the wrong way about it. Didn’t he realise that telling Duncan he couldn’t do something was the equivalent of throwing down a gauntlet?
But, instead of responding to the irresistible challenge, Duncan’s eyes flickered down, concealing his expression under a thick screen of sable lashes.
‘Speaking of gems, I see you’re wearing your brand-new engagement ring, Kalera,’ was his meek reply. ‘May I see?’
She lifted her hand, surprised to find it was clenched into an involuntary fist, and he mimed a silent whistle at the sight of the large diamond solitaire.
‘That’s quite a rock. A lot bigger than the one Harry gave you, but since love’s not measured by the carat I guess that doesn’t mean much, does it?’
Stephen was incensed. ‘That’s an incredibly tasteless and vulgar remark!’
Duncan appeared so remorseful that Kalera knew it was a sham and was horrified by a brief and wholly inappropriate urge to giggle. ‘I’m sorry, I know comparisons are odious. It’s just that—well, until today Kalera was still wearing Harry’s ring and I have difficulty imagining her with another man.’ He shook his head reminiscently. ‘They were so well matched. I really liked Harry. You never met him, Steve, but he was an all-round nice guy. An incredibly tough act to follow.’ He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up.
At last!
‘Forgive me, Kalera,’ he said, his politeness forcing her
