The Innocent's One-Night Confession. Sara Craven
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Because I really need to know.’
Her throat was dry. ‘I suppose your usual conquests hang around begging for more. Let’s just say I turned out to be the exception to the rule.’
He said harshly, ‘And that’s a cheap retort which insults us both.’
‘We had a one night stand.’ It was her turn to shrug, struggling to keep her voice casual. ‘No big deal.’
‘Again, I don’t agree.’ His voice took on a purr of intimacy. ‘Shall I go through my reasons?’
‘No!’ In spite of herself, the negation seemed to explode from her and she hastily tempered it with, ‘Thank you.’ She spread her hands. ‘It—it was all a long time ago.’
‘To me, it still seems like yesterday.’
‘Then that’s your problem.’ She swallowed. ‘Why can’t you let the past stay exactly that instead of raking over old mistakes?’
She added defensively, ‘After all, it’s not going to make the slightest difference—to either of us.’
He was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He said, ‘Then let us turn our attention to the future and allow me to offer you a word of warning.’ He paused. ‘You and Gerard?’ He shook his head. ‘It’s never going to happen. You would be well advised to walk away.’
The obvious and truthful response was ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ she thought, stiffening. But that was her decision, not his. And, anyway, what right did he have to interfere—either to warn or advise?
She said coolly, ‘My relationship with Gerard is a private matter for us alone.’
‘Not any longer,’ he said, his mouth twisting. ‘And certainly not in this family. They invented the words “public domain”.’
‘Then let me tell you they’ve all been very kind and—welcoming.’
‘Does that “all” include Aunt Meg and Aunt Caroline?’ He raised an ironic eyebrow. ‘Or my grandmother, for that matter?’
Her hesitation was fractional. ‘She’s been—charming.’
‘Why not? She has bundles of it when she chooses. She sometimes even uses it on me. But that makes no difference to her long-term plans for Gerard, which do not, my lovely one, include you, I can promise you.’
‘Please don’t call me that,’ she said tautly. ‘And Gerard’s future is his own to decide and he may consider I have a role to play in it.’
‘Then why isn’t he here with you now, finding some quiet, sheltered place and getting you out of your clothes?’
As she stared at him, shocked, he added, ‘Or is that not yet part of the agenda?’
Alanna threw back her head. She said chokingly, ‘How—how dare you? That’s none of your business.’
‘But it’s very much my concern.’ Zandor’s voice slowed to a drawl. ‘Having initiated you into the pleasures of physical passion, my sweet, I wouldn’t wish you to feel—short-changed in any way.’
Alanna pressed her hands to her burning face. ‘I don’t,’ she said defiantly. ‘In any way.’
Which, she told herself, was no more than the truth—if not in the way he expected.
She added, ‘I trust you don’t want details.’
He was unfazed. ‘Thank you but I think I prefer my memories.’
He let that sink in. Sting.
‘So Niamh is charming and Gerard attentive,’ he went on musingly. ‘But don’t let that fool you. If you’re also thinking long term, Gerard can’t afford to get married.’
‘You’re his employer,’ she flashed. ‘Perhaps you should pay him more.’
‘Perhaps I would,’ he said, ‘if I was more convinced about his commitment to Bazaar Vert.’
He paused. ‘However, his present salary already allows him a very pleasant flat in Chiswick, his car, and an expensive boat currently moored at Chichester, plus his New Year skiing trips, and his summer vacations in the Caribbean, as I’m sure you’re fully aware,’ he added silkily. ‘All of which hardly puts him on the breadline.’
Alanna bit her lip. ‘And as he’s also aware, I’m not exactly on the breadline myself,’ she mentioned crisply.
‘No, you work in publishing, for a company called Hawkseye,’ he said slowly. ‘And not as an assistant in a bookshop as I once thought.’
‘Does it matter? They’re both perfectly respectable occupations.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But unless you’ve also won millions in the Euro lottery, neither of them equips you financially to be the wife of the heir to Whitestone Abbey.’
He continued drily, ‘Unless, of course, you’re prepared to take on Niamh and convince him he needs that particular destiny like a hole in the head.
‘To do that, you’d need to be either very brave or very reckless. And while you certainly don’t lack the second trait, you may not come off unscathed again. Not a third time.’
‘A third?’
‘Why, yes,’ he said. ‘The first was the night at my hotel when you let the taxi I’d ordered leave without you.’ He added unsmilingly, ‘Or had you forgotten that small but important detail?’
The silence stretched between them as Alanna tried to think of something to say. And failed.
As if she had spoken, Zandor nodded. ‘What I need to know is—why? Or are you going to use the champagne as your excuse again?’
The words bit at her. She made herself meet his gaze. ‘No—although I’ve never drunk very much alcohol.’
Perhaps because I’ve seen where it can lead...
She went on, ‘Perhaps I was simply—curious. I’d come to realise I was something of an anomaly in this day and age and maybe I wanted to—know what I was missing.’
‘And, on a whim, chose me for this daring experiment?’ His voice was harsh. ‘Please don’t expect me to be grateful.’
‘I don’t.’ She stumbled on. ‘I—I soon realised I’d committed a terrible—an unforgivable error. That it was the last thing I wanted to happen. I—I couldn’t face you—afterwards—so I—left.’
His eyes were as bleak as winter. ‘It didn’t occur to you to tell me much earlier—maybe when it started—that you’d changed your mind? That you wanted it all to stop?’
‘Oh, sure,’ she said bitterly. ‘And you’ve