After the Affair(4)

When she instinctively pulled back, he sighed and lessened the force of his hold. But he still urged her towards the front doors. Cassie went, not knowing what else to do. He wasn't going to take no for an answer, that was obvious. And she knew that she should find out what the situation was—if he was going to be around on a regular basis.

A churning thought had come to her. Perhaps he worked for the new owner of Strath-haven. After all, artists rarely made enough to live on.

Going with him proved to be a mistake. She had underestimated the physical effect he still had on her. His fingers felt like silken threads on the soft flesh of her inner arm, sending warm shivers through her veins, and when he stopped to open the library door the still reality of his closeness became particularly disturbing. All she had to do was turn and she would be in his arms. All she had to do was signal her willingness and he would sweep her into the room, shut the door and kiss her.

She knew that this was so, for Dan McKay was that sort of man. The type who would take a woman quite ruthlessly—if she showed weakness—all the while pretending she was someone special, then discard her if and when it was expedient.

'This won't take long, will it?' she asked sharply. and took a step backwards. She was worried that he might grow aware of her quickened heartbeat, her flush of sexual awareness.

He pushed the door open, then glared down at her. Light from the room slanted brilliantly across his face and Cassie was shocked to see that he had aged, though he still didn't look anywhere near forty. A smattering of grey was hiding within the thick black waves and there were lines around his dark eyes.

But neither detracted from his appeal. If anything, they added a dimension of rugged sophistication to his looks that he had perhaps lacked all those years ago. Or perhaps it appealed to her now because she herself was older.

'If you'd stop backing away from me,' he said curtly, 'we'd be a damned sight quicker!'

Cassie tipped up her chin and strode past him, dropping her holdall in a distant chair before whirling round to face him.

He was watching her closely. 'Far enough away for you?' he mocked. 'Shall I keep the door open as well?'

She said nothing. But her stomach muscles tightened as he swung the door shut. An impatient sigh betrayed his frustration.

'I won't hold you up now,' he said brusquely, moving to pick up the painting, which she hadn't noticed lying on top of a large desk, 'but I wanted you to have this.'

Cassie's mouth dropped open. Confusion and anger warred with an irrational pleasure. 'But why?' she blurted out before recovering. 'I... No, thank you. I don't want it. I won't take it!'

His face was annoyingly passive. 'Why not? You were bidding for it.'

She gulped down a gathering lump of panic. 'That doesn't mean I'll take it from you.'

'Why not?'

His persistence brought an agitated mutter. 'This is ridiculous!'

'Is there someone who would object to your taking a gift from me? A lover, perhaps?'

She glared at him. 'I don't have to answer your questions, Dan McKay!'

'No, you don't,' he said with maddening composure.

There was a short, sharp silence.

'I could well have a husband by now, for all you know,' she threw at him.

'But you don't, do you?'

She gasped. 'How do you know that? Have you been spying on me?'

She saw the surprise on his face and knew that she was over-reacting badly.

He walked over and picked up her hand. Her stomach somersaulted as his long, elegant fingers stroked her palm, her fingers. 'You're not wearing a ring,' he explained.

She snatched her hand away, but not before her breathing had gone absolutely haywire. 'I might have taken it off,' she argued breathlessly.

'And have you?' His black eyes were watchful.

She lifted her chin. 'No.'

'So there's no husband. What about lovers? Any of those around at the moment?'

Her blue eyes flashed angrily at his hounding of her private life. 'My having or not having a lover is none of your business.'

'I'm making it my business.'

She was shocked by the implication of his statement. 'My God!' she exclaimed. 'Do you honestly think you can come back here after all these years and take up where you left off?'

His eyes were giving her no peace. They were devouring her, yet telling her nothing.

'I didn't think anything, Cassie,' he said matter-of-factly. 'But when I saw you in there, bidding for my painting, I thought ‑'

'Thought what?' she cut in savagely. 'That I was buying it as a sentimental reminder of you?' She laughed—a harsh, cynical sound. 'You do have a colossal ego, don't you? I'll tell you why I wanted that painting of yours. Yes, it was as a reminder. A reminder of the mistake I made in loving and believing in a man like you! But now I don't need it, do I? I've seen you again, experienced at first hand another sample of your amazing sense of opportunity.' She glared at him in disgust. 'I can just imagine what you felt in there when you saw me bidding for your painting. An initial surprise, perhaps, but quickly followed by a smug satisfaction. An old flame, you would have thought, who hasn't forgotten the good times we once shared. She even wants my painting as a memento. What good luck! I wonder what would happen if I bought the painting and made a grand gesture of giving it to her. She would be bound to be grateful, maybe even very grateful...'