things then you’re wrong. I’m trying to put what happened behind me and move on. I don’t want it to ruin the rest of my life.’
Her expression was peeved, her brown eyes defiant. Seth didn’t know why, but he was intrigued. He realised that discussing feelings with a woman might potentially be like walking on broken glass. Whatever angle you came from, it was a delicate issue.
Tunnelling his fingers through his hair, he realised that he really wanted to engage her—to get her to like him, even.
‘I don’t profess to know whether it might help you to talk about things or not—all I’m saying is that if you do decide to I’m willing to listen. What you tell me won’t go any further than these four walls... I give you my word.’
Mulling over his remarks, she turned still for a moment. ‘And why would you be interested in what happened to me? I’m nothing to you. I’m just some woman who wandered up to your house in the hope that I might find out who wrote the letter I found.’
Seth couldn’t help smiling. Did she really not know how attractive she was? The longer he spent in her company, the more he sensed himself becoming attracted to her. He knew that most women wouldn’t hesitate to use their physical attributes to their advantage if a man was wealthy or attractive, and he wasn’t being falsely modest in realising that he was both. The fact that Imogen hadn’t made a play for him piqued his interest even more.
‘Clearly you’re not just “some woman”, Imogen. I already sense that you think deeply about things. A lot of men would find that quality very attractive...beguiling, even.’
The unexpected sizzle of desire that suddenly seized him caught him off guard, making him feel distinctly off centre for a minute. Studying her, he saw that even though her dark brown eyes shimmered briefly when she glanced back at him, it was clear Imogen wasn’t troubled by the same disconcerting sensations.
Impatient, she moved towards the kitchen. But even as her hand curved round the brass doorknob, she suddenly paused. ‘Okay, I’ll tell you my story. I owe you that much, since you trusted me with yours. But I’m surprised that you’re not in a hurry to go home.’
‘I don’t have a place here—not unless you count the mansion. For the past ten years I’ve been living in the States. At the moment home is a hotel suite. Elegant as it is, I’m in no hurry to go back there.’
‘You don’t have any family that live nearby?’
‘My father died when I was a teenager. But, in truth, my mother raised me by herself. My father was far too preoccupied with his drinking and gambling to be of any use to anyone. She’s long since moved away from here.’
‘What about brothers or sisters?’
‘There are none.’
Imogen fell silent again. Then she said, ‘I think I’ll go and make some tea. Would you like some?’
‘I’d prefer coffee...black, no sugar.’
‘I’ll go and see to it, then. I won’t be long.’
‘Thanks.’
It wasn’t like him actively to invite personal conversation, Seth reflected. It must be down to the peculiar intimacy that the dawn had evoked. Just like the night, it could entice a person into letting down their guard and lure them into spilling their innermost secrets...even to a stranger.
What innermost secret was Imogen going to reveal? he wondered.
Splashing his face with cold water and squeezing out some toothpaste to rub round his teeth, he paused to study himself in the bathroom mirror. To his mind, he looked haggard. Seeing the Siddonses’ house again had been a real baptism of fire. And he’d gone and bought the place! Had he temporarily lost his mind? It was said that love and loss were apt to make people behave strangely...
Rinsing his mouth after using the toothpaste, he registered that he needed a shave. But it wasn’t just overnight stubble that darkened his visage.
Even though his path had led him to become seriously wealthy and given him a lifestyle he couldn’t have envisaged all those years ago when he’d striven to keep the wolf from the door for himself and his mother, the road had been paved with some gruelling obstacles. If he hadn’t made himself impervious to the need for people’s good opinion and focused instead on honing his skills and becoming expert at them, he would have been well and truly lost.
Even so, living without genuine companionship these past ten years had taken its toll. From time to time basic necessity had driven him to seek out the kind of pleasure that only women could provide, but even great sex didn’t come close to true intimacy. The kind of intimacy that he’d shared with Louisa.
His muttered curse vented his frustration.
Having finished his ablutions, he returned to the living room. The enticing aroma of freshly ground coffee filled the air and his stomach growled with hunger.
At some point during Seth’s absence Imogen had got dressed. Instead of the pretty lavender pyjamas and dressing gown, she now wore black skinny jeans and a knitted red sweater. Her dark hair was caught up in a hastily arranged topknot, and several loosely curling strands had drifted down over her ears. Her unmade-up complexion was nothing less than translucent, but she visibly coloured pink when she saw that he was silently appraising her.
‘All done?’ she said quickly.
It was evident that she wanted to deflect his interest. Seth nodded.
‘Then I’ll just go and use the bathroom myself. I’ve made your coffee. You’ll find it brewing in the kitchen. I’ve also put some bread into the toaster, if you’re hungry. Just help yourself.’
‘You must have read my mind. But try not to be too long. We have some talking to do, remember?’ Electing not to reply, Imogen hurriedly left. He could already tell that she hadn’t appreciated the reminder. Perhaps she wouldn’t tell him her story after all?
* * *
Alone again, Imogen was aware that inside her chest her heart was thudding. It was undeniable that she was nervous. But even though the thought of relating to him the recent shattering events she’d endured filled her with something close to dread, she couldn’t forget that Seth had shared his own sad story.
Perhaps she should take courage from that? He of all people must understand her reticence about revisiting hurtful events. Just listening to his heartfelt assertion that he would never love anyone as he’d loved the woman he’d lost had been unbearably poignant.
Once upon a time, Imogen had loved Greg with what she’d believed to be similar passionate devotion. However, the idyllic happy-ever-after that she’d hoped for hadn’t transpired. Instead, the relationship had come to the most abrupt and devastating end. It would be a very long time—if ever—before she trusted another man again...certainly enough to consider sharing her life with him.
‘I made some toast for us to share.’
On her return, she saw her handsome visitor’s glance was decidedly sheepish. He had filled the silver-plated toast rack with crisped slices of wholemeal bread and brought in the butter dish she’d left on the worktop, along with a pot of marmalade. He hadn’t just poured coffee for himself but had made Imogen some tea.
