‘No fairy tales.’ Alexa shook her head. ‘I’d be a fool to think that, wouldn’t I, with my mum and dad’s example before me?’
Claro—he’d forgotten that she was the daughter of Montague’s first wife. The marriage that had ended in divorce.
‘What happened?’
‘Petra happened.’ Her tone was wry. ‘From the minute she came into Dad’s life he couldn’t think straight. He tumbled into an affair—and when he found out that Petra was expecting Nat, he came straight home and told my mother that he wanted a divorce.’
‘And how did that make you feel?’
‘How do you think it made me feel? You have to understand, I was four—I’d lost my daddy. He’d walked out on us to live with someone else.’
Oh, he understood all right. So much more than she could imagine.
‘You didn’t want to be with him—live in London?’
The look she turned on him was pure bemusement.
‘I wouldn’t have it given.’
When she saw his faint frown of confusion, her mouth curved into a quick smile.
‘It was the last thing I wanted,’ she explained. ‘That was the way Petra wanted to live but it wouldn’t have suited me. Besides, Petra wouldn’t have wanted me and I wanted to stay with my mother. She needed me.’
‘She took it badly?’
‘That’s an understatement! Dad broke her heart and for a long time she almost gave up on things.’
‘And yet you still believe in love?’
This time her smile was wider, the light in her eyes brighter, making them a glowing, soft green.
‘It didn’t stay that way. Mum did eventually meet someone else. They’ve been married ten years now, and I’ve never seen her happier. And even if Petra isn’t exactly my sort of person …’ Her tone made it plain that this was a careful understatement. ‘Dad adores her and he’s never looked at any other woman since. Mum and Dad married the wrong people first time round. So, yes, I’d like to think that there’s someone for us all out there.’
‘And is there someone for you?’
‘Me?’
She looked flustered by the question, turning wide, surprised eyes on his face. And suddenly he knew a momentary sense of unease at the thought that there might be some man she was seeing. Not that he doubted that he could make her forget about any rival if there was one. It would just be an unwanted obstacle that he would have to get rid of.
‘No—there’s no one.’
Her gaze dropped, eyelids half closing as she answered, and he was glad that she didn’t catch the faint smile of satisfaction that he couldn’t quite suppress. At least Natalie had spoken the truth when she’d said that her sister was unattached. But the suddenly down-bent head brought the unfortunate and unflattering hairstyle yet again to his attention, making him frown in disapproval.
‘Come here …’ he said softly, that sense of satisfaction growing as he saw the way her head came up sharply, her eyes locking with his in surprise.
Deliberately he held that shocked gaze for a moment longer, wondering if she knew that her thoughts were so transparent, able to be read only too clearly in her eyes. She thought he was going to kiss her; it was written all over her face. She thought he was going to kiss her and if he did then she wouldn’t object. In fact, she wanted him to kiss her, so much so that those soft, rose-tinted lips had actually parted in anticipation. He could kiss her now and she wouldn’t do a thing to stop him. On the contrary, she would actively encourage him.
Which was precisely why he was not going to do it. Oh, he wanted to kiss her. It was quite surprising—almost shocking—how much he wanted to kiss her. But he wasn’t going to give in to that desire. She was interested now, willing even, but he wanted her more than interested, more than willing. He wanted her eager, and keen—he wanted her hungry and needing. He wanted her totally hooked so that when he made his move he could reel her in without her even having realised that she had been caught.
This sister was not going to escape him. This one was not going to run out on the deal before they even got to the altar.
‘This has to go …’
Reaching out, he buried his fingers in her hair, found one of the pins—many pins, to judge by the way that the ornate style had been ruthlessly held in place throughout the afternoon and the evening, with just a few soft brown tendrils escaping from the enforced confinement. With care he eased it from its place then tossed it aside into the grass that edged the tiled pool surround, and started hunting for the next one. Although he carefully kept his attention apparently fixed on the task in hand, he was well aware of the way that her expression had changed, her face dropping, that anticipatory light leaving her eyes and something very close to disappointment clouding them.