more plates arrived, with what looked like an impressive array of fish and roasted vegetables and rice and potatoes and salad. Her eyes were wide, watching as Tiarnan poured white wine into glasses so cold they still had mist on them.
‘I’ve never seen so much food in my life.’
He took her plate and proceeded to heap it high with the succulent food, saying drily, ‘Don’t tell me you’re one of these women who prefer to push a lettuce leaf around your plate and watch it wither and die rather than eat it?’
‘No,’ Kate said quickly, taking the plate he handed her. ‘I couldn’t think of anything worse. My problem has never been lack of appetite, it’s stopping myself eating.’ She grimaced for a second. ‘Unfortunately, unlike your sister and presumably you too, I can’t eat everything around me and stay the same size. All I eat has to come off again.’
Tiarnan fought down the urge to let his eyes rove over her curves. She was right. Where Sorcha was lean and athletic, Kate had a more natural voluptuousness, a sexy lushness. He picked up his glass and waited for Kate to do the same.
Kate was intensely aware of the way the dusk was claiming the setting sun, turning the sky smoky mauve. The breeze was warm and the sound of the sea came from nearby. Small flaming lights nearby lit up the table and surrounding area. It was idyllic.
Tiarnan held up his glass and said, ‘I thought it would be nicer to eat out here. I hope it’s not too rustic for you?’
Kate shook her head, mesmerised, and picked up her glass. ‘It’s perfect. I love it.’
He touched his glass to hers and it made the most subtle chime.
‘Welcome, Kate, and bon appetit.’
‘Bon appetite,’ she mumbled, her face flaming, and she took a quick sip of the deliciously dry wine.
Tiarnan made sure she had everything she needed, and then proceeded to fill up his own plate impressively. Kate didn’t doubt for a second that a man like him would have a huge appetite. When she thought of that, the heat which had begun to recede surged back. She groaned inwardly and then groaned out loud as she tasted a langoustine and it nearly melted on her tongue with an explosion of exquisite tastes.
‘This,’ she said, when she could. ‘Is amazing.’
Tiarnan smiled and nodded. ‘Mama Lucille’s cooking is legendary. She’s had countless offers to work for others, even from the best restaurants here on Martinique, but she’s turned them all down.’
Kate smiled too, and picked up her wine glass. ‘And no doubt you keep her very well … compensated?’
He inclined his head modestly. ‘But of course. I look after everyone I love.’
Kate’s heart clenched, and she speared some more food to distract him from what might be in her expression. Was he also talking about the way he compensated his lovers so well? Did he, on some level, love them all too? In that easy superficial way that some men did? Only to let them go easily when they got too clingy? Was he capable of truly falling in love?
‘What about you, Kate? Would you like children some day? You’re good with Rosie—you seem to have a natural affinity …’
She just about managed not to choke on her wine, and put down the glass carefully, a little blindsided by his swift change of subject. Normally, with such a question from someone else, her natural inclination to reply honestly that she’d never wanted anything more would make answering easy. But here, now, with Tiarnan, she had to protect herself.
She shrugged one shoulder and looked down. ‘Yes, I’ve thought of it. What woman my age doesn’t?’ Her voice was light, unconcerned, but her womb seemed to contract as she battled a sudden vivid image of holding a dark-haired baby in her arms, Tiarnan’s head coming close to press a kiss against the downy, sweet-smelling skin.
In complete dismay at her wayward imagination, and in rejection of that image, she looked up almost defiantly, feeling brittle. ‘But not yet. I’m not ready to be tied down. I’m sure it’ll happen some day, though, when I meet the right person.’
Tiarnan lounged back. Kate could imagine his long legs stretched out easily under the table. In comparison she felt incredibly uptight and tense.
‘And you haven’t met the right person yet, I take it?’
‘Well, I’d hardly be here now if I had, would I?’ She cursed herself for letting him get to her, making her sound snappy. Tiarnan’s eyes had become assessing. Looking deep.
He shrugged too. ‘I wouldn’t know, Kate. To be honest, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Let’s just say that in my experience women are perennially unsatisfied—either with themselves or their lives—and will do whatever it takes to relieve their boredom.’
‘That’s a very cynical view to have.’
He shrugged and took a sip of wine. ‘When the first relationship you witness has deep flaws, it tends to colour everything else.’
Kate’s prickliness dissolved in an instant. ‘I know your parents didn’t … get on.’
Tiarnan’s mouth tightened. ‘To put it mildly. I don’t have to tell you what it was like … But if none of that had happened I wouldn’t have Sorcha for a sister.’
Kate said quietly, ‘The fact that your mother took Sorcha in as her own was pretty selfless.’
He made a rejecting motion with his hand. ‘A selfless act which drove the wedge between her and my father, and ultimately Sorcha too, even deeper. My mother was—still is—a devout Catholic. She took Sorcha in more out of a sense of religious duty than anything else.’
They both fell silent for a moment, very aware of how that had caused such pain and hurt to Sorcha when she had found out. Kate knew instinctively that there was very little likelihood that Tiarnan would discuss this with anyone else—it was just because of who she was, and the fact that she knew already. Any intimacy she was feeling now was false.
Something rose up within Kate, compelling her to say quietly, ‘I do believe, though, that it’s possible.’
‘That what’s possible?’
‘For people to be happy. I mean, look at Sorcha and Romain; they’re happy.’
Tiarnan’s face looked unbearably harsh in the flickering light of the candles for a moment. ‘Yes, they are.’ He sounded almost surprised, and then his voice became hard. ‘I, however, learnt my lesson a long time ago. I indulged in the dream for a brief moment and saw the ugliest part of women’s machinations, and how far they’re prepared to go to feather their nest.’
Kate’s heart clenched. He was talking about Stella, of course—and every other woman too, it would appear, by proxy.
Tiarnan looked into his wine glass, tension gripping him. He cursed himself again for allowing this woman to loosen his tongue, and forced down the tension. He looked up and caught Kate’s eye, allowed himself to dive into the deep blue depths. He saw her exactly as she was: a woman of the world, successful, confident, single. Not afraid to take what she wanted. She was like him. Immediately he felt on a more even keel. He snaked out a hand and caught hers, revelling in the contact,
