‘There’s no need to treat me like an invalid,’ Tessa said in a prickly voice. ‘My foot’s actually a lot better. It must have been a very minor twist.’ She was acutely aware of his long fingers curled around her forearm as he led her towards one of the deep chairs in the corner of the room. ‘How was your day yesterday? It must have been marvellous sitting under that tree opening presents!’ Her voice was high and light and stunningly polite.
‘Oh, marvellous.’ He pulled up a footstool and perched on it, one arm resting lightly on the arm of her chair. ‘I was up at three in the morning, of course, all excited at what Santa might have brought for me.’ He grinned, inviting her to share his amusement, and Tessa looked back at him blankly.
When she thought of his little tête à tête with her sister, when she imagined the sizzling lust that must have sprung into life the minute he’d clapped eyes on Lucy, just the thought of sharing any kind of joke with him made her feel physically sick. But she still held onto her smile.
‘And what did you get?’ she asked politely. He had positioned his body in such a way that he effectively blocked out the rest of the circulating party. Most of the older people had found chairs for themselves and were catching up on a year’s worth of anecdotes. Mark and Emily’s two children were whizzing round the room, with Anna in attendance, and Lucy had moved on to another group with the effortless ease of the born mixer.
‘This magnificent jumper from an ex-girlfriend of long ago who’s now happily married with a child and apparently thinks I need taking care of in the way of clothing. I like it.’ He plucked at it and made a show of trying to make sense of the gaudy pattern.
‘It’s very cheerful.’
‘Which is more than can be said about you,’ Curtis said, with his usual lack of preamble. His blue eyes took on a wicked glint and Tessa quickly looked away.
‘Yes, well…I didn’t sleep all that well with my foot…’
‘Which you said was definitely on the mend…’
‘On the mend but not quite there yet,’ Tessa informed him irritably, knowing that the foot was the last thing that had disturbed her sleep patterns.
‘Lucy said you went to bed early with a headache,’ Curtis remarked, and Tessa flinched at the intimacy implied in discussing her behind her back.
‘Your brother’s very nice.’ She changed the conversation abruptly and cast her eyes around him, scanning the room and hopefully giving off signals of restlessness. ‘He was telling me all about his house in Scotland and what it’s like living there…’
‘Riveting stuff.’ Curtis’s eyes were narrowed speculatively on her face. ‘Ground-breaking social repartee, I would say.’
‘I’d like to go and meet your mother.’ Tessa dodged the verbal missile that she knew was designed to stimulate a response in her. As was his body language, leaning into her, elbows resting on his thighs. When did he plan to tell her about Lucy? she wondered. Once she had been eased gently off the scene? ‘She’s caught my eye a couple of times. I must seem very rude coming here and then ignoring the hostess.’
‘I shouldn’t worry about it.’ Curtis could feel his irritation growing as she glanced across the room, cleverly avoiding the blue eyes that were trying to pin her down. ‘Right now, Mum’s as busy as the proverbial bee. It’s the same every Boxing Day. Mark and I tell her just to do something light and trouble free, beg her to get the caterers in…’
‘And…?’ Tessa reluctantly looked at him, charmed by the evident love in his voice when he discussed the members of his family.
‘And she agrees wholeheartedly. All through the month of November. At which point she begins letting slip the odd remark that people always preferred home-cooked food instead of all that plastic perfection that caterers were so good at, that light food was fine but that it had to be interesting light food. Then Boxing Day arrives and she’s rushed off her feet, even though Anna does her best to try and help out. Despite the distractions…’ They both looked at his daughter, who was now involved in amateurishly face-painting one of his brother’s children.
‘You let her wear the clothes she bought in London,’ Tessa couldn’t help remarking. ‘She looks beautiful.’
‘You can take the credit for that,’ Curtis said lazily. ‘Actually, you did me a favour. I was a little overprotective, thought I could keep her in strait-laced frocks suitable for the over forties when actually she would have asserted herself sooner or later. Better she asserted herself when she happened to be with you than later on, in the company of someone her own age with a taste for provocative clothing.’