The Seduction Scheme (13 page)

‘It may surprise you, Rachel, but even with my varied, much documented love life I've never found myself in this situation before. I wasn't expecting slavish adoration…'

‘No?' The sooner that little time bomb was skirted the better! ‘Just applause possibly? I think you're just peeved because the women you date wait for
you
to call it a day.' Anticipating the fact that he was about to get a lot more
physical, she slid sinuously off the sofa and landed on her bottom.

He leaned over the edge and she reached for her discarded shirt, pulling it protectively over her breasts.

‘Date! What date? You did promise me dinner when I took you to the hospital… I think you'd like me better if your first impressions had been right and I was some penniless bum on the prowl. You were falling over yourself to dole out the tea and sympathy then. The fact I've got anything to offer you is obviously a big turn-off! Does a relationship on equal terms scare you that much?'

Equal? Was he serious? She dreamt about equal. She sat on her heels and jerkily shoved her arms into the shirt. ‘Offer me! When did you ever offer me anything?'

‘There doesn't seem much point when you throw every gesture back in my face.'

‘Fine! If you want dinner, I'll buy you dinner, and you can bring me flowers to say thank you. I promise I won't throw them back in your face. It's not that I didn't enjoy…' she began awkwardly.

‘I know that.' He watched as she unsuccessfully tried to tug the shirt over her hips and his anger seemed to subside. He tugged up his trousers but didn't bother fastening the belt. ‘When?' She looked at him blankly, worried by the rather calculating expression on his face. ‘Dinner,' he reminded her.

‘What? Oh, tomorrow if you like.'

‘Good girl; get it over with as soon as possible. I bet you always ate your greens before the good bits. Good strategy. Are you looking for these?' Swinging his legs to the floor, he held out a pair of lacy pants at arm's length.

She lunged automatically and he withdrew his hand. ‘That was tomorrow, was it? Eight o'clock?'

‘Yes, yes!' she replied as he dangled the scrap of material
just out of her reach. She gave a sigh of relief as he released his grip.

‘Our first date,' he said, raising an invisible glass to his lips. ‘I'll return this at a later date,' he added, audaciously tucking her bra into his pocket. ‘You look much better without it. I'll let you put it on so that I can have the pleasure of taking it off.'

‘Our only date,' she choked defiantly.

‘I
NEED
to go to the ladies' room.' Charlie laid her napkin to one side. ‘Don't let them take that away,' she added, frowning suspiciously at one of the zealous waiters. ‘I haven't finished yet.'

‘It continually amazes me how much you can pack away,' Rachel said, getting to her feet.

‘I'm not a
baby
. I'm quite capable of going on my own.'

‘Pardon me…' Rachel kept her expression grave, to avoid giving any impression that she was laughing. A ten-year-old's pride was a delicate thing.

‘Besides, you'll
have
to talk to Ben if I'm not here.'

And look who's laughing now, Rachel thought, staring after her daughter's retreating back.

‘Out of the mouths of babes…' Benedict drawled, leaning back in his seat and enjoying the expression of discomfiture that spread across Rachel's face.

‘Are you suggesting I brought Charlie along as a…a…?'

‘Shield? Perish the thought.' His dark brows lifted in sardonic assurance. ‘I'm sure it just slipped your mind when you issued the invitation to mention that we weren't going to be alone.'

‘I owed you dinner…this is dinner.' Even if he'd seen through her somewhat transparent ruse he might have tactfully not said so.

‘Was I complaining?' He grinned and reached across the table and took hold of her hand. ‘Relax,' he advised as she stiffened. ‘I'm having a great time. Charlie's great.' He shrugged and his ironic smile deepened. ‘She hogs the con
versation, but the same has been said of me. We have a surprising amount in common, you know; I was a so-called “gifted” child too. I've been through the whole hothouse thing.'

That explained the rapport. ‘What hothouse thing?' she asked, ultra-sensitive to implied criticism.

‘You know, skipping the bud stage and going straight into full bloom. That's the system these schools who cater for the
crème de la crème
specialise in.' He cast a knowledgeable glance at the militant light that had entered her eyes. 'And lower those prickles, darling; I don't want to fight.'

‘You've got a funny way of showing it.' She had enough insecurities about her decision over Charlie's education without him making her feel even less sure about her move to the city.

‘I know how it must be; on one hand you don't want to be a pushy mother, on the other you don't want to stifle her potential. It's a classic no-win situation so relax and play it by ear. Right now,' he confided, ‘there's only one thing I want to ask you about Charlie. What time will she be safely in bed?'

Rachel recognised a leading question when she heard one. ‘On weekends her bedtime's flexible.'

‘You could always prop her up in the corner if she dozes off.' His sarcasm stung.

She snatched her hand away. His thumb had been inscribing slow, sensuous circles over the palm of her hand; her nerve-endings were jangling and she found it impossible to concentrate on anything above the clamour.

How, she pondered bleakly, was it possible for this man to do more damage to her nervous system with such an innocuous caress than anyone else could manage with a full-scale seduction?

‘You'll be gone long before then,' she said pointedly.

‘Are you trying to tell me something, Rachel? It couldn't be you're scared of being alone with me, could it?'

Rachel gritted her teeth and displayed them in a brilliant smile. His smug confidence really got under her skin—especially as she had a sinking feeling it could well be justified.

‘I am alone with you and see—' she held out her hand for his inspection ‘—not even a tremor.'

‘Steady as a rock,' he agreed admiringly, ‘but very much prettier.' He bent forward and touched his lips to the back of her extended hand.

She gasped; she couldn't help it; the neat electricity made her toes curl tightly in her elegant high heels. Benedict raised his dark head slowly and she pulled her hand back, nursing it protectively in her lap—not even the best will in the world could have kept the tremors at bay now.

‘There are things I need to say to you that are better said in private, Rachel.'

‘I don't think I want to hear them,' she confessed, too flustered to compose a less truthful reply.

‘Why?'

Through the protective shield of her lashes she watched him fill up her glass with wine which she had no intention of consuming—she needed all her wits about her tonight.

‘You're going away.'

Too late for me, she thought grimly as she hung grittily onto what composure she had left. She could see it might be nice for him to have some blatantly besotted idiot to while away the time with before he packed his bags and moved to the other side of the world, but she wasn't going to be that idiot.

‘And does that bother you?' The dark eyes were fixed with unnerving intensity on her face.

‘If you're waiting for me to say I'll be devastated, don't hold your breath,' she returned calmly.

‘I really like that in you.'

‘Like what?'

‘You're a fighter, a real scrapper.' Elbows on the table, he rested his chin in his hands and allowed his eyes to wander admiringly over her flushed face. ‘Only you ought to accept there are some things you just can't fight.'

‘Really?' she said, compressing her lips and suppressing the urge to run—well, she was still sitting anyhow.

‘You were about to say, Such as? Only you thought better of it.'

‘Now you're a mind-reader too.'

‘Last night we both seemed to be doing a lot of that.' The slow, husky drawl, only a notch above a whisper, had a resonance that vibrated through her tense body. She couldn't tear her eyes from the lips that had formed the words and once she started looking the remembering was inevitable. She remembered how those lips, applied in various imaginative ways, had reduced her to a… She shook her head to clear the images that flooded through her disorientated mind.

‘I thought we'd agreed that that was a one-off thing,' she said harshly.

‘I didn't agree to anything; you agreed for us both,' he reminded her. ‘I didn't think you were the sort of girl who went in for one-night stands, Rachel?'

‘Neither did I,' she admitted with a flash of honesty. She suspected he knew as well as she did that that put her in a situation where she had to say no; one night would no longer be an appropriate description.

‘Would it make a difference if I wasn't going away?'

The sly question threw her shaky balance completely for six. ‘Naturally I'm flattered you haven't got bored with me just yet. But…don't you think you should get a bit of practice with normal relationships before you contemplate the long-distance variety?' She and Benedict didn't want the same
things from relationships. She knew what she wanted, but it wasn't on offer.

‘And if I wasn't leaving would you offer to repair that gap in my education?'

‘My spare time's pretty full at present.' The linen napkin was crushed beyond salvation in her fingers. ‘I don't think you're ready for the sort of…'

‘Commitment.' He pounced almost eagerly on the opening in her faltering explanation.

Rachel had already heard his opinion on longevity and permanence; she didn't want to offer him the opportunity to rub salt in the wound. She didn't want to join the legion of women who pursued him.

‘Here's Charlie…'

The fleeting expression of seething frustration that flickered through Benedict's eyes made it quite clear that the levity in his manner had been masking deeper, more urgent emotions. Only Rachel didn't see it because her attention was riveted on the man beside her daughter. Good God, he was talking to her.

‘Rachel?'

Concern replaced frustration as she continued to stare beyond him. She looked, he thought, as though she'd seen a ghost. He automatically turned to see what was causing her such alarm.

It looked innocuous enough; Charlie was handing an empty glass to a tall guy who was patting his damp shirt-front. He looked to be taking the incident in his stride. The Italian proprietor's laid-back attitude to children had obviously rubbed off on some of the patrons too.

Rachel saw his body freeze as Charlie straightened up. He said something quickly and she saw Charlie nod towards their table. Her heart thudded as they moved closer. It was a long time since she'd wondered if this situation would ever
arise. The chances of her meeting one of the Faurés were remote, but remote had happened.

‘Hello, Rachel.'

‘Christophe, this is a surprise,' she said huskily.

‘For me too,' he said heavily.

The guy had one of those French accents females found attractive. Benedict tried not to hold the accent against him; after all, he was an open-minded sort of guy. However, despite his open-minded attitude he found he couldn't stretch to a smile when the older man glanced in his direction.

‘You are married, Rachel?'

‘No, no…this is Benedict Arden. Ben, this is Christophe Fauré.'

‘And I have met Charlie.'

It was then, as he smiled down at the child, that it finally clicked: the eyes. Charlie had his eyes! That was why he'd looked familiar. No wonder Rachel had looked as if she was seeing a ghost; she
was
seeing a ghost. Benedict had felt a similar sensation when a cricket ball had hit his unprotected adolescent manhood when he was thirteen.

‘Are you in London alone?' This was a nightmare, Rachel decided; a waking nightmare. Christophe knew; of course he knew. He was seeing his brother as he looked at Charlie. She didn't have the faintest idea what his reaction would be.

‘Annabel stayed at home. She has an exhibition next month. My wife,' he said, glancing politely at Benedict. ‘She is an artist.'

‘So you're married.' The hostility would have been hard to miss.

‘Yes.'

‘A question occurs to me.' This was Benedict at his most bland and Rachel, who hadn't thought things could get much worse, thought she might be sick. ‘Were you married when you and Rachel last…met?'

‘I was.'

‘And when might that have been?'

‘Ben!'
She frowned reprovingly at him. He was behaving like a heavy parent, for heaven's sake! Or a jealous lover… She pushed this notion and the accompanying spurt of dangerous gratification firmly away.

‘Eleven years ago.' Christophe's eyes repeatedly strayed to Charlie as he went on, ‘Your mother was our au pair, Charlie. She kept house for us for a while. She was not very much older than you really.'

God, what was he going to say next? she wondered with alarm. She could almost hear the questions forming in Charlie's mind. If Charlie was going to hear the story she was going to hear it from her mother's lips.

‘Dance with me,' she said, urgency lending her inspiration. Christophe looked startled. ‘
Please
, Christophe?' Her smile was all teeth and terror. She had to get him away from Charlie.

‘I'd be delighted.'

‘Sorry,' she said a few minutes later as she trod on his toes for the second time.

‘She is Raoul's of course,' he said, breaking the silence.

Silently Rachel nodded.

‘He was my brother and I loved him but he was a selfish….'

Rachel's French was good enough to translate the unflattering epithet accurately.

‘And I was a silly girl,' she added, not disagreeing with his harsh assessment of his dead brother's character.

‘Did he know?'

‘No.'

‘That's something, I suppose. I'd like to think it would have made a difference if he had…' He left his doubts unspoken. ‘You were living under our roof,' he continued in a
severe voice. ‘Our responsibility. I should have guessed and been more vigilant; I knew how Raoul was—without honour.' His lips twisted in disgust. ‘Charlie is my niece—my blood; I could have helped. I hope you didn't tar us with the same brush as Raoul. I would understand if you did.'

‘No, of course not; you and Annabel were very kind to me. I was ashamed, frightened. I didn't want anyone to know I'd been so stupid. Later, when I heard about the crash, I thought about letting you know, but I thought you might think I was after… Well, it would have looked pretty suspicions: I pop up complete with child when Raoul is no longer there to deny or confirm my story.'

‘Charlie's eyes are all the proof you needed,' he said, his frown deepening. ‘My family have done you harm, Rachel. Helping you would have been a privilege, not just a duty.'

Rachel's throat was suddenly choked with emotion at the sincerity in this man's voice. It was amazing that two brothers could be so dissimilar, she reflected sadly.

‘And this man who looks at me with murder in his eyes—what is he to you?'

‘Benedict! He wouldn't…' There was only one other couple on the dance floor and she had an unobstructed view of their table. She saw Benedict's face and changed her mind—it looked distinctly possible that he would! There was nothing sophisticated about his expression—it was one of crude, violent disapproval.

‘Perhaps he doesn't like you dancing with other men.'

‘It's none of his business who I dance with,' she responded, her mouth settling into a combative line. He expected her to get her mind around his colourful past; how perverse could you get? Even if he had assumed that Christophe was her former lover—and from his confrontational attitude that seemed very likely—he had no right to come over all possessive.

A sceptical expression stirred in Christophe's eyes, but he maintained a diplomatic silence. ‘I would like to make amends—too late, I know. Don't!' he said, pressing a finger to her lips, which were parted to refuse. ‘The request is selfish also. Annabel and I couldn't have children.' Behind the stoical acceptance Rachel had a glimpse of pain and her tender heart ached.