be said of her insides. Then he clasped her hand in his, in the briefest of handshakes, and a funny little thrill raced through her bloodstream.
No! No! No! There could be no thrills of any sort—that was a complete non-starter. It was imperative to focus, to work out a way to end this whole scenario before her life imploded. In public.
‘Likewise,’ Daniel said, his voice silk-smooth and deadly as nightshade. ‘I must admit I hoped to meet you today.’ A smile utterly devoid of mirth turned up his lips. ‘I’d like to discuss a project with you—I realise this is a big day for you, and you have lots of duties as maid of honour, but it will only take a few minutes.’
Kaitlin quelled the urge to cover her ears, close her eyes and hope that would equate to sudden invisibility. But that wasn’t an option. Somehow Daniel had worked out her identity and he now had the ammunition to embroil her in a scandal. Worse it would impact not just herself, but Frederick as well—and that wasn’t fair. True enough, technically Kaitlin had done nothing wrong—but her association with Frederick had begun near enough to that disastrous Barcelona night as would make no difference. To the press, at least.
This scenario was a nightmare. She had hoped—believed—that she would never see Daniel again, and here he was, requesting a few minutes of her time.
Who was she kidding? His words had been posed as a request, but his eyes were glacial, his jaw was set, and she knew if she didn’t acquiesce he’d have no hesitation in forcing the issue.
‘Of course,’ she murmured. ‘I’d be interested to hear what you have to say.’
The words fell from her lips automatically—she didn’t want anyone to suspect how rattled she was. Lady Kaitlin Derwent didn’t do rattled, and now was not the time to start.
‘Well, there’s no time like the present. Would anyone mind if I whisk Kaitlin off?’
Kaitlin blinked. That was not what she had in mind—she’d wanted time to think, regroup.
Prince Frederick glanced at her. ‘It is entirely up to Kaitlin whether it is convenient for her to speak with you now.’
Etta glanced from Daniel to Kaitlin and back again. ‘I don’t need you to do anything but enjoy yourself. That’s what I’m hoping everyone will do.’
Daniel smiled. ‘I promise I’ll keep the business talk to a minimum.’
‘Make sure you do,’ Etta said with a light laugh. ‘Now, we had better mingle.’
Gabe twined an arm round his bride’s waist and they smiled at each other—smiles that could only be described as goofy—and Kaitlin experienced a small pang of envy, felt the sudden ache of emptiness. Exacerbated as she glanced from Frederick’s closed expression to Daniel’s glacial one. Not so much as a hint of goofiness in the vicinity.
Frederick nodded. ‘Make sure you’re back in time for the waltz.’
With that he moved away, through the throng of guests, and within moments had been absorbed into a group.
For a second Kaitlin stood, her high-heeled sandals rooted to the marquee floor, frozen by the surreal impossibility of Daniel’s presence. Fear dried her mouth. How had he found her? What was he going to do? Questions crowded and jostled in her brain, even as she kept her expression neutral. Yet alongside the anxiety that stretched her nerves there was...awareness.
Try as she might, she couldn’t stop the memories from tumbling back. Sensations, taste, passion, laughter...the feel of his touch skimming her skin... The very thought made her shiver across the nine-month gap.
Rein it in, Kaitlin.
Because clearly Daniel was not walking that path of memory—his expression displayed a cold anger that was not a happy omen for the forthcoming discussion.
Come on, Kaitlin.
It might still be all right—if he’d wanted to create a scene he surely would have done so by now.
‘How about we take this outside?’ he suggested, his voice hard.
Kaitlin shook her head. ‘No. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about us.’
Lord knew she didn’t want anyone to get any idea about them at all—even a glimmer of the truth had the potential to destroy her future.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Bit late to worry about that now, isn’t it?’
‘Shh! For goodness’ sake, could you please keep your voice down? We need to be discreet.’
Her head spun, though she took pride in the knowledge that not a single observer would notice her inner turmoil. All that was on show was the poised, collected Lady Kaitlin Derwent, chatting politely to a wedding guest. Unless, of course, anyone actually overheard the content of the conversation...
He shook his head. ‘Wrong. You need to be discreet. I couldn’t care less. So, if you want discretion I suggest we take this outside. There’s less chance we’ll be overheard or interrupted out there.’
Daniel had a point, and surely there would be some guests outside. The afternoon sun shone down, and what could be more natural than she should show a guest the famed Derwent Manor gardens?
‘OK. Fine.’
They walked towards the entrance of the marquee and somehow, from somewhere, Kaitlin summoned up conversation. ‘So you’re linked with the Caversham Foundation? That’s interesting.’
Daniel’s stride slowed as he stared at her, genuine incredulity etched on the craggy contours of his face. ‘Are you for real? You want to make chit-chat?’
‘For the benefit of the people watching us—yes, I do.’
‘So your image matters that much to you?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice was flat. ‘Haven’t you heard? Image is everything.’
To her it truly was. The creation of Lady Kaitlin Derwent’s image had been her own personal version of therapy—the way she’d coped after the kidnap fourteen years before. It had been her way to block out the memories, the fear that lived with her day and night, the coil of panic that lashed round her without warning. Being Lady Kaitlin allowed her to live her life.
‘So, yes, seeing as we are supposed to be engaging in polite conversation, let’s do that.’
He gave one last head-shake of disbelief. ‘Sure. My association with the Caversham Foundation is actually the price your brother requested in return for a wedding invitation. On top of my donation to Derwent Manor—which was your father’s stipulation.’
Keep walking.
‘And you agreed to this just so you could talk to me?’
‘Yes. It’s a good cause, and an association with the Duke and Duchess of Fairfax and their son will be good publicity for my firm. Clients like things like that.’
‘Which firm do you work for?’
‘I’m CEO of Harrington Legal Services.’
