Free Old Desires/A Stranger's Kiss (2-in-1 edition) by Liz Fielding Page B

yourself?’
    ‘I thought you might be pleased to see me.’ The corner of his mouth tugged upwards in an ironic parody of a smile and she had the grace to blush for her lack of manners. ‘And since I’m Mary’s executor. There is no one else.’ He chewed on an olive. ‘You’ll forgive me if I suggest you would not have simply packed up and come home if I’d telephoned and asked you to? Or even if I had used your preferred method of communication and written a letter.’ He waited for the briefest moment, then smiled with a sweetness to match her own, just to prove that he, too, could be good when he wanted. Then he quite spoiled the effect by adding, ‘Of course, I could be wrong.’
    ‘And when was the last time you were wrong about anything?’ The words flew from her mouth, the careful control snapping like an overstretched rubber band.
    He thought for a moment. ‘Well, I once bet my father a pound that the England football team would win the World Cup,’ he offered.
    ‘Really?’ And suddenly she found it necessary to suppress a giggle firmly. ‘I thought you were smarter than that.’
    ‘I was very young at the time.’
    ‘Clearly.’
    She pushed her hair back and, propping her chin on her knees, considered for a moment, taking full advantage of this opportunity to study his face openly. Here, in the open air and sunshine, he looked so much younger than that first grim impression.
    ‘I’m thirty-two,’ he said, finally putting her out of her difficulty. He leaned back upon an elbow. ‘Since you were obviously wondering.’
    ‘You look older,’ she said, leaning forward to cut a piece of cheese and cover her confusion at the ease with which he could read her mind. ‘I’d have said thirty-four at least,’ she added, attempting to turn it into a joke.
    ‘It’s been a difficult year.’
    She looked up. ‘Am I being a nuisance?’
    ‘A bit.’ He shrugged. ‘The Highfield buyers are ready to sign contracts,’ he said, returning to his original subject.
    ‘Buyers?’ She felt an odd little tug at her heart. ‘You have buyers for the house?’
    ‘I did tell you,’ he said, patiently.
    ‘Did you?’ Her forehead creased in concentration. ‘I don’t remember.’
    ‘No. Well, you were rather distraught at the time so I didn’t press it. I had assumed you would be around when I needed to discuss the details. I didn’t realise that you intended to leave the country for an indefinite period.’
    ‘I had nothing to hurry back for.’
    ‘Oh?’ He frowned, then shrugged. ‘Well, they’re getting impatient to complete and it is a very good offer.’ She bit back an exclamation that she didn’t care about the money. She would have gladly forgone her inheritance if she had just known about Mary before it was too late. But it was too late and there was nothing she could do about that. Going back would make no difference.
    ‘Surely I don’t have to go back to England?’ she objected. ‘I’ll sign your piece of paper right now and then I won’t waste your valuable time.’
    ‘Did I say my time was wasted?’ His look was intense, unsettling. ‘Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. Apart from anything else, you’ll have to decide what to do with the contents of the house. There are some very good pieces of furniture and porcelain and if you don’t want to keep any of it I’ll have to put it to auction.’
    She could imagine what he was thinking. She’d better take it because it was a lot better than the stuff she had at home.
    ‘Sell it,’ she said roughly.
    ‘Better come and look at it first. Since you’re coming home anyway.’ His tone suggested that argument would be futile. ‘Why don’t you have some of these olives? They’re very good.’ She absently took a small green olive and he poured her another glass of wine. ‘Don’t worry about the house now. We’ll sort it all out tomorrow. Tell me about your holiday.’ He lifted his hand to her cheek and stroked it very