Second Chance with the Millionaire(8)

'Yes.' He frowned. 'Your father's been extremely generous to his stepson, more so than to Tara or to you.'

'My father was rather old-fashioned. He held the view that boys need a  good education and girls do not.' She risked a small smile at him and  was relieved to see that he had stopped frowning.

'I owe you an apology.'

It was abruptly said, his face turning away from her so that she could read nothing in his eyes.

'I hadn't realised until today what a burden your father had put on you.'

Her heart leapt. Had Fanny told him about Oliver?'

His next words made it clear that she had not.

'Philip Patterson tells me that you're more or less wholly responsible for Oliver and Tara.'

'My father appointed me as their guardian along with Fanny,' Lucy  agreed. 'I think he was worried that Fanny would not be able to cope  alone-emotionally rather than financially.'

'So he burdened you with the responsibility for two young children plus  your stepmother. Didn't either he or Fanny stop to think that you might  want a life of your own? That you might marry …  have your own children?'

'He did what he thought was best-for everyone,' Lucy told him quietly. 'Fanny … '

'Fanny is a clinging vine.'

He turned to look at her, and unbelievably he smiled.

The effect on her was dizzying …  electrifying. She felt as though she  were suspended in space …  flying almost. She put down her sewing and  stood up.

'Fanny told me this morning that she …  that you possibly believe that I  resent the fact that you have inherited the Manor.' She looked down at  her own interlinked fingers, searching for the courage to go on. His  smile had died and when she looked into his eyes they were not  encouraging.

When he made no effort to help her she released her breath in a faintly  helpless way and stumbled on. 'I want you to know that that isn't the  case, Saul. I've always known that you would inherit and never resented  it. In fact Neville probably … ' She broke off, biting her lip, not  wanting to use her other cousin as an excuse for her own behaviour. 'I  feel your inheritance is probably more of a burden to you than an  asset.' She looked directly at him now, forcing herself to meet and hold  the cold grey of his eyes.                       
       
           



       

'I see …  and it's because you don't resent me that you've been studiously avoiding me ever since I arrived, is that it?'

His voice was quite calm, but so underlined with cynicism that she was  engulfed by despair. This was not how she had anticipated tendering her  apology and explanation.

'Even Oliver and Tara seemed to think I was some sort of intruder …  and they didn't get that from Fanny.'

'No, they got it from my father.'

The words were out before she could stop herself, and she bit down on  her lip once again, angry with herself for being betrayed into that  admission.

'OK, so you don't resent me. Fine.'

For some reason he seemed angry, thin lines carving cynically from his  nose to his mouth. He turned, and she knew instinctively that he was  about to go. Despairingly she reached out and touched his arm, and then  withdrew in shock as she felt the warmth of his skin and the hardness of  his bone beneath the covering of his casual shirt.

He looked at her, still frowning, watching her. Tension made her mouth  dry, her tongue circling her lips defensively, watched by the narrowed  gaze of those grey eyes. He was waiting, but she knew he would not wait  for ever.

'Saul I owe you an apology as well.' She took a deep breath trying to  steady her jumpy nerves. He hadn't moved, but she was conscious of a  difference in his stillness, a waiting quality that increased the  tension already in the air.

'One that's over twelve years overdue,' she continued shakily. 'That  summer when you came here I behaved appallingly, and I want you to know  I've always regretted it. I hoped when you came this time we'd be able  to make a fresh start … ' She risked a faint grimace. 'Even that you might  have forgotten how unkind I was. I'm afraid that summer was something  of a traumatic one for me. I'd just lost my mother …  and in those days I  was too green to see through Neville. Not that I'm trying to shift the  blame to him. I knew the way he was behaving was wrong. But I had a  mammoth crush on him then and …  Well, suffice it to say, since then I've  learned exactly what he is-and isn't-and I've always regretted how I  behaved; not because I knew you would inherit the Manor, I'd have  regretted my behaviour whoever it was directed towards, but knowing that  you, too, had endured emotional and family problems that year made it  much worse.'

'Why didn't you say any of this to me when I arrived?' His voice was low and completely without any expression.

'I wanted to although I must admit I hoped it wouldn't be necessary.  That you'd want to forget the past as much as I did and have a fresh  start. Then when I realised you hadn't forgotten-or forgiven-I thought  that if you had time to get to know me first my apology might have more  worth …  more reality.'

For a moment it seemed to her that he was simply going to turn away and  leave her without a word and the pain that exploded inside her was  almost unendurable, far more intense than something caused by a mere  blow to the pride.

He turned away, lashes veiling his eyes, and she wondered what was going  on inside his head, if he was weighing her words and finding them  wanting; and then he was turning back to her, his mouth curling in a  faint smile as he said easily,

'It was a bad summer for me. I knew my folks were on the point of  divorce, and to be sent away to England, not knowing what my future  might be and not able to do a single thing about it, made me angry. I  guess both of us were operating under the same handicap and having  Neville around didn't make things any easier.'

'No.'

Unsaid was the knowledge that without Neville's interference they might  have found a way through their mutual distrust of one another, but Lucy  was not going to tell him about her realisation of what her maternal  cousin was right now.

'So I'm forgiven?'

The words trembled from her lips, her voice soft and unfamiliarly hesitant.

Saul smiled and leaned towards her, curling strong fingers round her wrists.

'When you look at me like that how can I say no?'

She hadn't completely lost all hold on reality, retaining enough sanity  to say drily, 'Very easily I imagine, when I remember what a little  beast I was.'                       
       
           



       

'Mmm …  you certainly made it plain that you didn't want me around.' He  laughed then, his eyes warming. 'It dealt quite a blow to my adolescent  male pride to be so obviously cold-shouldered-something which Neville  thoroughly enjoyed, as I remember.'

He saw her expression and his mouth curled in amused mockery. 'What's  wrong? Didn't it ever occur to you that a boy of sixteen is quite  capable of being hurt by the so obvious rejection of a girl of twelve?'

'I was only just twelve and you were almost seventeen,' Lucy reminded him huskily.

'And almost seventeen was quite definitely old enough to realise and  appreciate the charms of a girl soon to be a woman.' He looked at her  and laughed again. 'Didn't you realise later when you looked back how  much of our mutual antagonism could be put down to mutual attraction,  even if emotional rather than physical?'

Had she? Was that why Saul aroused such a powerful reaction in her now?  With a small shock she realised he had said 'mutual attraction'. Did  that mean … ?

She looked at him and he said softly, 'Since we've now made our peace  with one another we should perhaps seal it in the time honoured way.'

Almost as though he had known she would pull away from him and been  prepared for it, his fingers tightened round her wrists refusing to let  her go, and then with his eyes looking directly into hers he said  lightly, 'Without the seal the peace treaty could be rendered null and  void.'

And then he slowly uncurled his fingers from her wrists and let his hands hang free.

Without being aware of it she moved, swaying slightly towards him,  taking that one step that would bring her close enough to his body to be  aware of its strength and power. His eyes smiled into hers, teasingly,  intoxicatingly, making her feel as giddy as an eighteen-year-old. And  then his head bent towards her, his fingers sliding into the hair at her  nape, gently angling her head so that her mouth was at exactly the  right angle to meet his.

There was nothing forceful or demanding in the warm contact of his lips  against her own; nothing at all in their almost fraternal pressure to  make the world explode inside her in a blinding whirl of colours and  sensations, but somehow it did.

As he kissed her she had automatically closed her eyes, but as he lifted  his mouth from hers, the sensation of deprivation was so intense that  her eyes flew open.