arrival of the guests that had made her react so oddly.
It was almost eight when Penny made her way back downstairs. She had herself firmly under control—she was nearly nineteen. no longer a giddy teenager prone to blush if a boy so much as looked at her.
Her grin vanished as she walked into the drawing room for a pre-dinner drink.
Conversation stopped dead and four pairs of eyes turned to look at her.
‘Really, Penny, you must learn to be punctual. I said seven-thirty for eight.’ Veronica’s opening comment had her stuttering for a response.
Her father’s ‘Leave the child alone, you know how Penny adores playing with James and she loses all track of time,’ and brief smile before he looked around the other three did nothing for her self-esteem.
Tina Jenson smiled politely at Penny, and turned back to Solo Maffeiano.
But he simply ignored everyone else and crossed the room to Penny. His cool grey eyes flicked over the mass of fair hair she had swept up and knotted on top of her head, roamed down over her small face, her elegant neck and slender shoulders, and lingered on the boat neckline of her dress that revealed the soft curve of her surprisingly luscious breasts. His intent gaze dropped lower to the indentation of her waist, flat stomach, and down to where her straight skirt skimmed her slim hips and ended some two inches above her knees, right down to where her small feet were encased in high-heeled black sandals.
‘You look beautiful, well worth waiting for,’ he said with casual charm, taking her arm, ‘And your father must be blind if he thinks you’re a child,’ he drawled huskily so only she could hear.
The touch of his fingers on her bare flesh seemed to burn through to the bone. Penny felt a wild heat surge through her body, and she did not know what had hit her.
Dinner was torture to Penny, although she persuaded Brownie to pretend her arthritis was bad so that Penny could do the serving.
Brownie gave her a quizzical look. ‘Your stepmother won’t like that.’
‘Tough, I don’t want to be stuck listening to boring business all night.’
A few minutes later Penny walked back into the dining room, carrying a tray, with the first course, melon and Parma ham.
‘Where is Mrs Brown?’ Veronica demanded curtly.
‘Her arthritis is bothering her so I offered to help.’
‘The trouble is good help is so hard to find when you live in a backwater like this,’ Veronica began as Julian dealt with the wine.
Thirty miles or so outside Cambridge, the village was small, but it was also only about ninety minutes’ drive into London, so hardly the back of beyond, Penny thought dryly as she put the plates on the table and took a seat next to Tina. Only then did Solo Maffeiano sit down directly facing her.
‘I can imagine,’ Tina Jenson drawled in agreement, while Penny kept her head down and tried to eat. ‘But if Solo does decide to invest in the place I’m sure he will have no trouble finding staff. He never does,’ Tina concluded with a smile at her boss.
Penny’s head shot up at the words, and with a horrified glance at the man opposite, ‘But the house is not for sale,’ she blurted.
Solo leaned back in his chair, his silver gaze sweeping slowly over the delicate beauty of her features. He caught the tightening of her lush mouth, the tension she could not quite hide, before he captured her gaze with his own.
‘Isn’t that up to your father to decide?’ he asked smoothly. ‘After all, you’re a very attractive young woman, some man is bound to snap you up before long.’ One ebony brow arched enquiringly. ‘Or are you already committed to some lucky man?’
Penelope heard her father’s soft chuckle, and felt herself the object of all eyes around the table, and colour surged in her cheeks. ‘No,’ she responded quietly, ‘to both your questions,’ she concluded with a brief flare of resentment she could not quite disguise. Solo was deliberately needling her. She might be young, but she could recognise a chauvinistic statement when she heard one.
‘Penelope is right,’ Veronica piped up, supposedly in support of Penny, but then she went on to describe how Penelope stood to inherit the house. As Julian’s wife Veronica only had the right to live in it, never own it, as did baby James.
Incredibly hurt by Veronica’s implication that Penny was likely to throw her stepmother and brother out, she leapt to her feet, and whipped around the table collecting the plates. It was some consolation to hear her father say firmly, ‘That is not quite true Veronica, I could sell if I wanted to, but I don’t. Havershams have lived here for three hundred years, and always will as far as I’m concerned. And I have not the least doubt Penelope would share everything with her family. We Havershams always do.’
Penelope slanted her father a grateful smile for sticking up for her, and shot off to the kitchen without another word.
For the rest of the meal she kept quiet and listened. But keeping her eyes from straying to the handsome man opposite was not such an easy feat. She couldn’t help but look at him. Solo Maffeiano’s voice was deep and melodious, his English had the slightest trace of an Italian accent, and his easy wit as the conversation flowed held her enthralled. But when Veronica started name-dropping shamelessly as she described the house party she and Julian were going to attend that weekend at Lord Somerton’s, Penny had had enough.
She glimpsed the cynical smile on Solo Maffeiano’s face, saw the contempt in his grey eyes, and she cringed. Looking down at the table, she placed her napkin by her plate before rising to her feet and declaring brightly to no one in particular, ‘I’ll go and get the coffee.’ She couldn’t get away fast enough.
‘I’ll help you,’ Solo Maffeiano declared smoothly.
‘No, no, please, you’re a guest,’ Penny flung over her shoulder as she scuttled out of the room and into the kitchen.
Breathing deeply, Penny crossed to the bench where the coffee percolator stood. Brownie had gone to bed, but she had left the tray, and the coffee on, bless her!
Not long now and Penny could make her own escape. She grasped the edge of the bench to steady her shaking nerves. What a meal! She had never felt so aware, so disturbed by a member of the opposite sex in her life. Solo Maffeiano had the power to make her heart shake with only a glance from his pale eyes, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.
Sighing, she turned, only to freeze at the sight of the man in question strolling towards her. ‘What are you doing here? I told you I don’t need any help,’ she snapped.
He didn’t immediately answer. Instead he stopped and captured both her hands in his and very slowly folded them behind her back, bringing her into intimate contact with his tall frame. A shiver rippled through her as her breasts pressed against his broad chest, her slender legs trapped against the strength of hard, masculine thighs. She tried to wriggle free, then gasped as she felt the stirring of his mighty body and its blatant masculine sign of passion.
A mixture of innocent embarrassment and not so innocent helpless heated arousal caused a tide of pink to sweep up over her face. Penny stared up at him and was paralysed by the blinding flame of desire in his eyes, her heart hammering against her chest so hard she could hardly breathe. Nothing like this had ever happened
