She might resent it, but she had to be aware of it. And she had to fear it, she thought, swallowing.
'Have you decided?'
She said huskily, 'It—it seems so.' And was glad that the menu was hiding her from him, so that he could not see her eyes.
Food was a kind of salvation. A note of normality in a reeling world. In the end they both chose the terrine, after which she had the lemon chicken while Chay opted for the cassoulet. She even drank some of the champagne when it was poured into her glass, and listened to Chay making light, amusing conversation with a smile that felt as if she'd nailed it there.
Several people came across to the table to greet her—a couple of former clients and the rest barest acquaintances— all of them wanting to be introduced to Chay. Adrien, face and voice expressionless, explained that he was the new owner of the Grange, and saw interest mount.
Wait until they find I've moved in there, she thought wearily. They'll have a field day. She supposed she could only be thankful that her engagement to Piers had never been made official—or public. Local people had speculated, naturally, but no one, apart from Zelda, had known that Piers had indeed asked her to marry him.
'I want to do it in style,' he'd told her. 'Throw an enormous house-warming party and invite the whole county. Until then let's keep them guessing.'
Adrien had chafed at the restriction, but now she was thankful. The rumours already flying about her financial status were bad enough, but they'd be dispelled soon by even more fascinating gossip. Somehow to have it known she'd been tricked and abandoned—and to be pitied or laughed at—would have been infinitely worse.
Whereas here she was, dining out with a new man, seemingly without a care in the world. So let them think and say what they liked. Now and for ever. The main course was served, the wine poured, and the waiter left them alone.
'So,' Chay said softly. 'Shall we talk business?'
'Perhaps we should.' Adrien chewed a piece of her delectable chicken as if it was the sole of an old boot, and swallowed it with difficulty. 'From what you said this afternoon, you're prepared to pay the debts I've incurred over the Grange, and allow the remaining work to be finished, if I—make myself available to you. Is that right?'
'Yes.' The candlelight made his eyes glitter oddly.
She concentrated on cutting another morsel of chicken. 'So—how long would this—arrangement last?'
'I beg your pardon?' His voice was quiet.
She gestured with her fork. 'Weeks—months—a year? How long before you'd consider the debt paid and let me go?'
'That's difficult to assess,' he said after a pause.
'I'd expect my money's worth.'
She stared rigidly at her plate. 'Yes.'
'Have you worked out how much cash you need.'
'Approximately,' she said huskily, and named the figure. It sounded outrageous—and maybe it would be. Perhaps, even at this late stage, he'd decide she wasn't worth it after all.
But he nodded, apparently unfazed. 'You'd better let me have an exact rundown of all the people you owe, and the amounts. I'll arrange for my PA to have the money transferred to the account you've been using.'
'When?' Adrien asked baldly.
He said softly, 'When you've fulfilled your part of the bargain, Adrien—and to my complete satisfaction.' He smiled at her. 'So the timing is entirely down to you.'
"That's not fair.' Her voice sounded stifled. T can't guarantee to—be what you want—to please you.'
'Come now, darling,' he said mockingly. 'Don't tell me that the fire in that beautiful hair of yours is all bad temper. I'm sure Piers didn't think so.'
Her back stiffened. 'But that's totally different. I—I loved Piers.'
'And you hate me. Is that what you're trying to say?'
She said curtly, 'You can hardly blame me.'
His mouth twisted. 'Love and hate, Adie. Opposite sides of the same coin. And in bed, believe me, the distinction can become very blurred.' He paused. 'But I've been patient for a long time. I can wait a while longer for you to accept the situation.'
'A year,' she said. 'Whatever happens, you have to let me go after a year. That has to be my absolute limit. Do you agree?'
He shrugged a shoulder. 'If that's what you want. But has it occurred to you, Adie, that a year might be too long? That six months might be a more realistic target? After all, I get bored very easily,' he added softly. 'So your ordeal may be over sooner than you think.'
She said hoarsely, 'Six hours—six minutes—would be too much for me. And I want my own room—my own space. Somewhere that I can pretend none of this is happening.'
'You can have a whole suite,' he said. 'But you occupy it while I'm not there. When I'm staying at the Grange you share my life and my bed. Understood?'
Mutely, she nodded.
'Then it's all settled. Now eat some of your chicken before it's cold.'
She said, very distinctly, 'Another mouthful would choke me.'
He grinned. 'You wish.'
She said slowly, 'How do you know that I won't simply empty the account and vanish?'
'I don't,' he said. 'I'm counting on your regard for your colleagues and creditors outweighing your resentment of me. They'd have to bear the brunt if you went, and I know you don't want that.'
'No,' she said. 'Damn you.'
'If ever I thought I was irresistible, tonight would be one hell of an eye-opener,' he commented sardonically. Then his voice became businesslike again.
'My furniture will be arriving during the week. I'd like you to supervise the unloading and arrangement, and complete the outstanding work on the house. There isn't that much left to do.'
'You mentioned staff...'
'My present housekeeper will be joining me. I'd like you to engage local cleaners, and contractors to handle the gardening. If you have a problem, talk to my PA. Her name's Sally Parfitt, and you can reach her here.' He handed a Haddon Developments business card across to her.
'I shall be in Brussels until the end of the week,' he added. 'But I'll be coming down to the Grange on Friday evening.' He paused. 'And I expect to find you there, Adie. Warm and welcoming. No excuses.'
She said tonelessly, I'll—be there. I've said so.'
'I'd prefer a little more conviction—and commitment,' he said silkily. 'But I can wait. And now shall we shake hands on our bargain—for the sake of our audience?'
She stared down at the table as his ringers closed round hers, only to glance up, startled, as he turned her hand over and bent his head to drop a kiss on to its palm.
For one searing moment she felt the flicker of his tongue against her soft skin, and her body jerked in shock at the brief intimacy of the contact. He straightened, his eyes glinting as they took a leisurely toll of her, lingering on her parted lips and the hurried swell of her breasts.
'You taste like Paradise,' he told her softly. 'Friday just can't come soon enough.'
'For you.' The words were barely audible. 'But not for me.'
She pushed back her chair, and got to her feet, collecting her jacket and bag. She said, clearly and calmly, 'Goodnight, Mr. Haddon. And—thank you. I—look forward to working with you. Have a pleasant trip.'
And with a smile that acknowledged the other diners, Adrien, her head held high, walked to the door and out into the chill of the night.
CHAPTER FIVE
She was breathless when she reached the cottage, almost flinging herself through the front door. She snapped on the central lamp in the hall, then found herself running from room to room, pressing light switches with feverish energy until the whole ground floor was lit up like a Christmas tree. Anything—
anything
—to dispel the darkness that seemed to be closing around her. The darkness that Chay Haddon had brought.
And that other inexplicable darkness inside her that had responded to the brush of his mouth on her flesh.
Adrien shivered, wrapping her arms round her body, her throat tightening convulsively.
He took me by surprise, she thought defensively. That's all it was. I was startled. In future I shall be on my guard. And stone-cold sober. All that wine—and then champagne. That was the problem. She nodded fiercely as she started towards the kitchen. More black coffee was what she needed. And what did it matter if it kept her awake? After the events of the past twenty-four hours she was unlikely to sleep anyway. She'd just filled the kettle and set it to boil when the tap came at the back door.
Zelda must have seen all the lights go on and popped across to check that she was all right. Only Adrien wasn't sure she wanted to talk right now. She was afraid that she might say too mucli—alert her partner to what she was planning. Because, no matter what the consequences might be, Zelda would forbid her to do it. She knew that.
She hastily put the coffee jar away and took down the packet of herbal teas instead. She'd claim she was tired, and making a bedtime drink. Send Zelda away reassured.
Bracing herself, she opened the door and found herself staring up at Chay Haddon's unsmiling face.
'What are you doing here?' Her voice sounded unnaturally husky.
'Don't play games.' He stepped into the kitchen, kicking the door shut behind him. 'It was a terrific exit, Adie, but you didn't fool anyone, least of all me. I can't wait until Friday, and neither, I suspect from your reaction, can you.'
'Get out of here,' she said, her throat tightening. 'Get out of my house.'
He shook his head. 'You don't mean that, and you know it Because you're as curious as I am— wondering how it'll be between us.'
'No,' she said. And again, desperately, 'No—we had an agreement...'
'It's a dangerous world out there,' he said.
'And a lot can happen in a week. I might not come back. You might run after all. And I need to know, Adie. I need to know how long you'll maintain those stony defenses of yours once your clothes are off. How your body's going to feel against mine—under mine. Whether your mouth will be honey and musk—just as I've always dreamed.'
He took a step towards her and she backed away, lifting her hands in front of her in a futile effort to ward him off.
'Please...'
·Why not?' His brows lifted.
'It's too soon,' she said hoarsely. 'I—I'm not ready.'
He shrugged. 'Sooner—later. What real difference does it make? You gave your word, Adie. Are you reneging on your promise.'
'No.' Adrien bit her lip. 'But by Friday I'll have had a chance to think it all through. To prepare myself.'
Chay shook his head. He said softly, 'I disagree. I say it's time you stopped thinking—and started feeling instead.'
He took another step forward, and she retreated again, only to find herself blocked by the work surface behind her.
'Poor Adie,' he said. 'Nowhere left to run.' He was close to her now, but still not touching. She could almost feel the warmth of his skin. Sense the tautness of his muscular body. She stared up at him, aware that her legs were shaking.
And he looked back at her, his mouth twisting in something that was not quite a smile.
He said quietly, 'Close your eyes, darling.'
'Why should I?' Her voice sounded thick.
'Because it's the first barrier, and I want it removed.'
He made it sound totally reasonable, and after a pause she obeyed, feeling an enervating weakness spreading through her body as the chilling inevitability of it all began to invade her conscious mind. He was going to kiss her, she thought. And that was not new. She'd briefly known the touch of his mouth on hers already.
But what would follow was totally outside her experience, and she could feel panic closing her throat. His arm went round her, drawing her forward, gently but quite inexorably, and she swallowed, golden lights dancing behind her closed eyelids and she waited for his lips to take hers.
Instead, she was aware of his fingertips, light as gossamer, on her hair as he stroked it back from her face, before moving slowly over her temple and down to her cheekbone. The brush of his fingers followed the shape of her face, then discovered the faint hollow below her ear, where they lingered, tracing a gentle, tantalising spiral. That was, she realised, shocked, almost enjoyable.
As enjoyable, in fact, as the delicate movement of his other hand against her spine, making the silk of her top shiver against her skin.
A faint, insidious excitement was sending its first tendrils through her being, drying her mouth and sending her pulse-beat ragged.
Her voice didn't sound as if it belonged to her.
'Why are you doing this—please...?'
'Hush.' His mouth just touched her parted lips in a caress so fleeting she might have imagined it.
'You don't look. You don't speak. Speech is the second barrier.'
She could just capture a trace of the cologne he wore— expensive, but elusive. Seductive enough to tempt her to put her face against his tanned skin and breathe it deeply.
But she couldn't afford any more temptation, she realised breathlessly. Not while she stood, blind and silent in his arms, her whole body tingling with awareness of those tiny patterns his fingers were drawing on her flesh. And not just awareness. Arousal.
A slow, sensuous warmth was spreading through her veins, drugging her, blotting out all sensation but the subtlety of his caresses. And just as she thought that she couldn't bear any more, that she'd have to beg him to stop, his hand moved downwards, skimming the slender line of her neck and throat, to the smooth angle of her shoulder. Where he paused. A small sound rose in her throat, to be instantly stifled, and in return she thought she heard him whisper, 'Yes.'
His fingers slid beneath the neckline of her top, pushing aside the flimsy edge as he began to explore the delicate line of her collarbone, so minutely that he might have been committing it to memory. Adrien was dimly aware that her stance had changed. That she was no longer rigid within his encircling arm but leaning back, her body gently slackening, allowing him to support her. And that under the silky top her breasts were tautening in anticipation of the moment that would come when he... Ah, dear God, the moment that was here—now.