but you—’
‘I have all the time in the world,’ Aidan put in, obviously anticipating India’s next attempt at persuading him to leave. tom on holiday.’
‘I didn’t know you took them,’ India cut in sharply. ‘I mean, you always were a workaholic when we were...’
‘When we were together?’ he completed smoothly when the realisation of just what she had been about to say froze her tongue. ‘Well, I think you’ll find that quite a few things have changed since then. Now, are you going to open this door or not?’
India devoutly wished that she could do no such thing. But Aidan’s determined stance and the obdurate look in his eyes brought her up hard against the realisation that, unless she was prepared to indulge in an undignified and probably totally pointless struggle for her shopping, she would either have to do as he said or risk losing all their food for the coming week.
One look at those long, tanned fingers clamped firmly around the handles of the bags decided her on the side of discretion rather than valour. With a sigh of resignation she accepted defeat and opened the door.
‘And besides, I didn’t just come to see your father.’
‘Well, don’t try to claim that you wanted to renew our friendship,’ India muttered ungraciously.
‘Friendship?’
One dark eyebrow quirked up in frank scepticism, and his voice held an undertone that she was beyond interpreting.
‘Don’t you think that’s something of an understatement for what we had?’
‘What we had was a lie from start to finish, and it’s over now, gone for good. Dead and buried.’
‘Is that a fact?’
‘It’s the only fact that I know!’ The only one she would ever admit to him, anyway.
All trace of his mocking humour seemed to have evaporated, leaving his face cold and distant, set into harshly brutal lines.
‘You’re surely not claiming that I broke your heart? That I did anything more than cause you some social embarrassment, and perhaps lower your expectations of the future a little?’
‘Broke my heart?’ India repeated, the need for control, to ensure that not even the tiniest suggestion of the truth seeped past her defences, making her tone coldly brittle. ‘No, I’m not claiming that at all.’
If she was to convince him of that fact, she had to do it once and for all.
‘In fact, as I said the other night, I really should be grateful to you. If you hadn’t walked out on me like that, I’d have been trapped in a very unwise and totally unsuitable marriage. Before very long—possibly even by now—we would both have realised our mistake, but would have had to go through the unpleasantness of a divorce in order to get out of it.’
‘Instead of which you find yourself free and available, and perfectly positioned to marry your darling Jim.’
As on the previous occasion, the total lack of any feeling in Aidan’s response brought a flaring pain so violent that she had to bite down hard on her lower lip.
All she could think of was the need to make sure there was no possibility he could doubt her sincerity, and so she pounced on the opening he had offered her. If he wanted to believe she and Jim were a couple, then who was she to stop him?
‘That’s right. Jim has—kept me company...’
She had been about to say ‘comforted me’, but caught herself just in time.
‘Ever since last year. We’ve become very close, and I think our families are expecting an announcement soon.’
‘My congratulations,’ Aidan drawled. ‘I’m sure you’ll be well suited.’
He made the possibility sound like a life sentence rather than a prospect for happiness.
‘Obviously a trainee solicitor is considered a better bet by your father than someone with my background.’
‘Well, Jim’s uncle is an MP, and his grandmother was an earl’s daughter,’ India told him with a terrible sense of hammering nails into an already well-sealed coffin.
‘That’d just about do it,’ Aidan growled. ‘Shall I put this stuff away?’
‘There’s no need.’
It was almost impossible to match the carelessness of his tone with her own, to hide the stab of bitterness his indifference brought.
‘But thanks for carrying them in.’
Automatically she looked towards the door, anticipating that he would take the hint and leave. But Aidan simply shook his head with a calmness that set her teeth on edge.
‘Oh, no, my lovely. I’m not leaving until I’ve had words with your fool of a father.’
To India’s horror, he calmly deposited one of the bags on the table and began to unpack it systematically, putting the various tins and packages in their places with a familiarity that struck at her heart with its bitter memories.
‘You can’t. He’s...out.’
If she had had any hope that her father’s illness might make Aidan hold back, show a little consideration, she would have told him the truth. But this man and Bruce Marchant had always been at daggers drawn. She wouldn’t put it past Aidan to march straight round to the hospital to confront his opponent about whatever matter was on his mind. And, already uneasy about his motives, she quailed inside at the thought of what the result of such a meeting would be on her father’s already frail health.
‘Obviously. So when will he be back?’
‘I can’t say.’
‘Can’t or won’t, Princess?’
‘I don’t know when he’ll be back!’
‘Then I’ll wait until he returns. He can’t stay away all day.’
‘Yes, he can!’ Belated inspiration had struck. ‘He’s gone away for the weekend, and...’ India’s voice faded as Aidan shook his head reprovingly.
‘Nice try, sweetheart, but too late. If you wanted to convince me, you should have come up with that one much earlier. And besides, I saw his car in the garage. Wherever he’s gone it isn’t far.’
He didn’t miss a trick, India thought despairingly. Those keen dark eyes observed every little thing about his surroundings, and the shrewd brain that had made his fortune considered the information, assessing the situation and coming to a swift conclusion. She was beginning to feel like some particularly interesting scientific specimen under observation in a controlled laboratory experiment.
‘Think what you like.’ Her tone acknowledged defeat. ‘But don’t call me sweetheart! I am not your anything, and never will be again!’
‘Well,
