hair smoothed back, highlighting the strong forehead, the aquiline line of his nose.
But he didn’t look happy. After hesitating for a moment, she couldn’t help asking, ‘Is…is everything okay?’
He shot her a brooding look.
‘You just seem a little preoccupied…is it work?’
‘What’s this?’ he sneered. ‘The nice, caring, considerate Maggie? Trying to lull me into a false sense of security…charm me?’
‘What are you talking about?’
Caleb knew he was being irrational and that he was reacting to something he wasn’t even aware of, but couldn’t stop. He wanted to push Maggie back to a safe distance.
‘You must have known I was close to bringing Holland to his knees—he certainly did. I don’t trust you for a second. I know you’re up to something more than trying to secure the house.’
Maggie quailed at the contempt stamped into his features and a sharp pain filled her chest because she had known no such thing and she trembled with the effort not to cry tears of frustration. ‘It’s not bad enough that you believe me to have betrayed you once—now you’re trying to accuse me of more?’
‘Absolutely.’ His tone rang with conviction. ‘And if you think that by taking you as my mistress it will afford you that opportunity, then you’d better wise up fast.’
Maggie was genuinely aghast. Where had this come from? As if reading her thoughts, he answered her question. He leaned over and took her hands, dragging her close to his chest. His scent enveloped her and Maggie closed her eyes in a futile attempt to avoid his sensual threat.
‘You think you’re smart, do you? To spend such a small amount of money on the clothes…then making sure I see the ancient car, as though you wouldn’t normally be driving something much more expensive.’
Her eyes snapped open. Wide. ‘What?’
Had he lost his mind?
‘All designed, no doubt, to make me think that perhaps I’ve judged you too harshly…’
‘That’s crazy…’ His words cut her to the quick. Too close to the bone. Of course he would have checked up on her. She thought of the amount of money she’d put on his account; it had taken a lot of nerve to walk away with her head high. What on earth was he used to? She shook her head. ‘Maybe I’m just different to your other—’
‘Different? I don’t think so, Maggie; they’re always upfront about what they want. Honest. You’re conniving and deceitful.’
His words were hurting her in a place she didn’t want to look at. She fought back.
‘And maybe you’re just too cynical.’
He smiled grimly, still in possession of her hands, ‘You could say that. My mother taught me that all women appreciate the spoils of being a rich man’s plaything and I’ve yet to meet a woman to persuade me otherwise…Perhaps it’s your mother who has taken on Tom’s legacy, thinking you can both manipulate me, using you as the bait again. Is that why she couldn’t meet me that day at the house…? You were laying the ground work for the sympathy vote even then, getting Murphy to tell me she was weakened by everything…’
At the mention of her mother, Maggie stiffened against his hands, her face paling dramatically. Her voice shook with emotion. ‘Don’t you ever mention my mother like that again. This is between you and me. That’s all you need to know; keep her out of this.’
Caleb took in her passionate response. She seemed genuinely angry. He kept holding her, his eyes trying to assess the expressions flitting across her face. But then the moment was gone…He saw her face close up again.
Maggie couldn’t take back the words and knew she’d given far too much away. But she couldn’t bear to think of her mother being so slighted. It made her sick that he could even think that for a second. Miserably she knew she couldn’t say anything, make him listen to her. She couldn’t defend herself anyway—that way lay exposure to ridicule and betraying her mother’s secret pain.
So instead she pasted a brilliant smile on her face and tossed her head, praying that he wouldn’t dwell on her careless words. She had to be more careful.
‘As for the clothes, I only got what I needed for now…and what’s wrong with hoping for a few spoils…after all, I am your plaything for the next two months, am I not? Unless, of course, you want to let me go? If what I am is too distasteful to you—’
With a sudden harsh breath that was expelled heavily, Caleb silenced her words with his mouth. And, as much as Maggie’s own self-respect screamed at her to pull away, shout out her innocence, she felt herself moulding into Caleb’s chest, her soft curves pressing into rock-hard muscle. Her senses quickly became drunk on him, but suddenly the car came to a smooth halt, not that she would have even noticed if Caleb hadn’t pulled back at that moment. His eyes glittered fiercely in the dim light as they waited for the door to be opened.
‘Just don’t forget that that’s all you are, Maggie. My plaything.’
The heat of the ballroom was stifling, even with all the doors thrown open to the fragrant night outside. Maggie’s cheeks ached and the balls of her feet were burning in the high heels. She was moving from foot to foot in an effort to ease the pain. Caleb, at her side, looked down sharply.
‘What’s wrong with you?’
She refused to look at him, staring at a point to his left. ‘Nothing.’ She’d barely communicated with him since they’d arrived, still stung and hurt and dismayed by the level of his distrust.
He hadn’t seemed to even notice. For what seemed like hours now, she’d endured conversations of inane small talk, being relegated to the sidelines while Caleb had entertained a never ending stream of sycophantic admirers. And she’d endured none too friendly speculative glances from every other woman in the room. When a crush of people had moved forward, Maggie had got separated from Caleb and found herself surrounded by three or four women. They were all dressed in what she knew to be haute couture, totally over the top, but a clear statement of their wealth and status. They had looked her up and down as if she were a specimen in a glass box. She couldn’t believe how rude they were being and tried not to look as intimidated as she felt. One of them spoke.
‘Vous êtes ici avec Monsieur Cameron?’
Without even thinking, Maggie immediately slipped into her schoolgirl French, trying to be polite, wondering who they were and why they wanted to know. ‘Oui…’
‘Ah, bon. Mais juste pour ce soir, n’est ce pas?’
Maggie was trying to figure out what the woman was saying…Was she actually suggesting that she was here with Caleb just for tonight, like some kind of…call girl? A mortified blush rushed through her; they were hemming her in and their overdone faces, lacquered hair and cloying perfume was making her feel sick.
‘I’m sorry…excuse me.’ She tried to push her way out, but couldn’t. She was feeling more and more desperate.
Caleb swivelled his head. Where had she gone? She’d been at his side only two minutes before.
