gritted teeth, very conscious of her hip pressed against his arm, could feel the warmth of his body through his shirt.
He made no effort to release her, his thumb moving rhythmically against the delicate veins in her wrist. ‘I have to talk to you,’ he told her throatily, his eyes intent.
‘I’m sorry,’ she wrenched her arm out of his grasp. ‘If you’ll excuse me … ?’
‘No!’ He stood up, towering over her as he always had, as powerfully built as ever. ‘Sian, I need to talk to you.’ He clasped her forearms.
‘Why?’ she asked flatly. ‘Isn’t it a little late for talking between us? I thought we’d said it all three years ago.’
‘Sian—’
‘Darling, are you ready to leave?’ Chris had paid the bill, coming back for her as he realised she hadn’t followed him out, and his irritation fanned to anger as he saw the way Jarrett was touching her. ‘If you wouldn’t mind, King …’ He pulled Sian to his side, a reckless challenge on his face. ‘It may have escaped your notice,’ he added tauntingly, ‘but Sian wears my ring now.’
She gasped at this deliberate provocation, seeing Jarrett’s eyes narrow to steely slits.
‘Sian never wore my ring,’ he answered in a mild voice—too mild! ‘We never needed such affectations as rings to know she belonged to me.’
Sian felt herself sway, forcing herself to remain standing as Chris’s hand crushed hers. But she couldn’t speak, knowing she would choke if she even attempted it.
Chris was white with fury. ‘Well, she doesn’t belong to you now,’ he snapped. ‘So just stay away from her!’
Jarrett’s jaw had tightened ominously at this, a pulse beating steadily there. ‘I’ll stay away from Sian if she tells me to—and if I think she really means it,’ he added tauntingly. ‘So don’t give me orders, Newman,’ he grated. ‘Sian could tell you—only too well—how much better I respond to—persuasion.’
‘Why, you—’
‘Could we please leave, Chris?’ Sian had finally found her voice; this last provocation had been too much. She looked at Jarrett with cold hazel eyes. ‘And I do ask you to stay away from me, Jarrett—as I ask you to stay away from Bethany.’
Her sister coloured painfully, her embarrassment acute. ‘Sian, you can’t—’
‘I agree, she can’t,’ Jarrett drawled, bestowing a smouldering smile on the besotted Bethany. ‘And you didn’t mean that, Sian,’ he looked back at her with mocking eyes. ‘I always knew when you were telling the truth—and that wasn’t it.’
Her mouth twisted, her hand through the crook of Chris’s arm now. ‘How unfortunate I was never as perceptive where you were concerned,’ she was deliberately insulting, ‘then I would have known from the first what sort of man you are.’
‘And that is?’ he bit out harshly, all amusement gone now.
‘The sort of man I don’t like dating my sister!’ She turned away from the angry flame of his eyes. ‘I’ll talk to you later, Bethany,’ she warned.
Her sister looked sulky. ‘I’m not a child, Sian,’ she snapped.
‘I agree—you aren’t,’ Sian said tightly. ‘Which is precisely the reason I think we should talk.’
‘Still trying to be the conscience of your whole family, Sian?’ Jarrett derided.
She looked at him coldly. ‘Still caring for my family, yes, Jarrett. But caring is something you know nothing about. Excuse us.’ This time she and Chris managed to get out of the restaurant undisturbed.
‘Arrogant bastard!’ Chris rasped as he opened the car door for her to get in, closing it with a decisive slam.
Sian knew how disturbed he had been by the encounter by the fact that he swore; Chris never used strong language. But about this she couldn’t blame him. She could quite cheerfully have sworn herself!
Jarrett was arrogant, more so than ever before. And he was out to cause trouble. Why, she had no idea; he had hurt her badly enough in the past without wanting to cause a strain between herself and Chris. But the strain was already there, with Chris driving recklessly back to her home.
‘I’m coming inside.’ There was a determined glitter to his eyes. ‘We need to talk.’
She could see that, knew that Chris deserved some sort of explanation. But about tonight she didn’t have one; she had no idea why Jarrett was acting as he was, had no idea what he was doing back in Swannell. He was a little young to be retracing his roots!
Her father was still up when they got in, so she went and made them all a cup of coffee, giving a barely perceptible shrug of her shoulders to Chris, seeing by the stubborn set of his mouth that he intended staying as long as it took for her father to go to bed. He was determined to have that talk with her tonight.
Sian felt totally confused as she prepared the coffee. She had no idea why Jarrett should want to talk to her about anything – especially while he was dating her sister! She couldn’t let Bethany be hurt as she had been hurt, she had to protect her sister against herself if it came to it.
‘Have a nice evening?’ Her father took the cup of coffee she handed him, oblivious of the strained atmosphere between the engaged couple.
‘We went to the Raven.’ Sian avoided giving him a direct answer, the reputation of the restaurant such that he was sure to think they had enjoyed themselves.
‘You didn’t happen to see Bethany, did you?’ he enquired casually.
‘We—’
‘You know the Raven isn’t her sort of place,’ she interrupted Chris’s reply, knowing by his angry scowl that he was about to say more than she wanted him to. But again she had avoided telling a deliberate lie. The Raven wasn’t Bethany’s sort of place.
‘No,’ her father chuckled, very comfortable and relaxed in his casual and old trousers and tattered worn cardigan, his usual attire after his formal clothing of the day at his office. ‘She’s more likely to be at the Swan, they have a discothèque there.’
‘Not on a Wednesday,’ Sian told him absently, aware of Chris’s glowering impatience.
‘Oh well, I suppose she’s just out with one of her friends,’ her father shrugged. ‘She left in such a hurry she didn’t have time to tell me. I doubt she’ll be too late.’
‘No,’ again Sian answered, when it became obvious Chris was going to make no effort at conversation.
‘There was a good Western on television tonight,’ her father told her happily. ‘I enjoyed that.’
Sian smiled indulgently, Westerns were her father’s passion. ‘John Wayne?’ she teased, knowing the Duke was her father’s favourite cowboy.
‘Randolph Scott,’ he named his second favourite, and put down his empty cup. ‘Well, I’m off to bed now. I’ll see you
