He shrugged. 'And lots of women hold down a job, rear children and run a home. What's so special? I can be selfish. I have no one to please but myself, so I do.'

'But what do you think of yourself as?' she persisted, realising this modesty was totally genuine and feeling shock: it was out of tune with all her notions of him. She'd so often heard him referred to at home as arrogant, self-important, that the scathing denunciations had gradually seeped into her mental filing system as truth; How many of her concepts about Luke were culled second-hand? she wondered. Was she as guilty of prejudice as he?

'Why this desperate need to pigeon-hole, infant?' He held his glass at arm's length and watched her narrow-eyed through the deep red liquid, twirling the stem between his fingers. 'I mean, I have no ambition to write the definitive book, so I don't fear dilution of my talent. Opportunities arise and I take them. It always seemed churlish not to. I've been lucky—in the right place at the right time,' he mused. 'It would be terrible to wonder what might have been—so much easier to find out.' He made it sound so damned easy, she thought resentfully. 'People are just people,' he continued reflectively. 'It's the way they react in extraordinary circumstances that makes them different; that's why people can relate to my characters.' He made a dismissive gesture and took a swallow of his wine. 'At least, that's what my agent says.'

'Luke, how long do you intend staying here?'

The faint smile that had hovered around his lips deepened, etching lines from his nose to the corners of his mouth. Humour evaporated, leaving an impatient edge of anger. 'Tired of my company so soon?'

'It's so claustrophobic here…1 can't breathe!' The words exploded from her. Aware that the blast of emotion had made him stare with frightening intensity, she toyed with the top button of her shirt, unconsciously drawing the attention of his deep blue brooding stare to her throat.

'Miles of open space…claustrophobic?’ She met his taunting stare with an expression of deep frustration. 'Or is it I that fills you with the desire to escape?' he said with accurate perception.

'I just want to get this farce over with and reconstruct my life. I'm not multi-talented like you, but I think I could be a good teacher. If I had some idea of the time-span you had envisaged as a suitable punishment for Dad without interfering with your life too much, I could plan for the future.' She half envied the pragmatism of the person speaking; it certainly had nothing to do with the churning mass of uncertainty which had converted her thought processes to a basic survival mode.

A spark of something that was instantly subdued shone briefly in his eyes. 'They didn't want you to teach, did they?' His fixed stare from beneath half- closed eyelids was not as casual as his tone.

'I was supposed to be a social asset and a professional shopper, like Charlotte,' she snapped, and felt ashamed at the implied criticism of her sister—though in the circumstances, she thought wryly, Charlotte had earned a little criticism. 'But I showed little talent in that direction. You know Dad; his opinion of female intellect is no secret. The most stupid male is still inherently superior to a female, even if she just happens to have won a Pulitzer.'

Luke nodded reflectively. 'You still did what you wanted in the end. I take it Gavin wasn't encouraging you to pursue your career? You just trotted obediently back home and got auctioned off to the highest bidder. If the home had been any other, quite understandable…'

'Anything for a quiet life,' she replied flippantly.

'Why?' he persisted.

'I like Charlcot,' she lied fluently. 'I could never have afforded anywhere so palatial.' She wasn't going to elaborate on her father's drastic tactics, the heartless scheme she had so stupidly fallen for. Luke never accepted anything at face value; he'd think her a total fool for doing so. She discovered she had no wish further to reinforce his poor opinion of her father, however accurate it might be. For some obscure reason she felt strangely responsible for every indictment he brought against them, as though she were personally responsible. He acted as though she were, she thought bleakly.

'I don't believe that.'

'Your privilege.' She shrugged. 'Anyway, I still want to know when I can get back to civilisation.'

'A sensitive soul might infer that my company doesn't please you. Or are you anxious to embark on a spell of marital bliss?' His grin broadened, very white in his tanned face. 'Or could it be that you just don't trust yourself to resist the carnal interest that's stirring in your delectable breast? There's an interesting thought.'

'Is that supposed to be a joke?' she asked rigidly.

He tilted his head and his expression sobered, became brooding and ambiguous. His lips, miraculously sensual enough to make the muscles in her belly tighten, curved cynically. 'Not necessarily, as you're well aware,' he grated. 'I made myself clear earlier, I think. Which simplifies matters, infant. Now you only have to worry about your own instincts,' he coldly reminded her of his parting shot.




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