Free Welcome to Paradise by Jill Tahourdin Page B

peep-show,” cried Lady Merrick admiringly when she too had looked. Her jolly neigh rang out.
    Alix thought, That’s just what it is—a peep-show. She knew now how he had known about her fishing. He had been watching her through this horrible telescope. It made her intensely uncomfortable to think of him, seeing everything that went on, spying.
    Though why should it? she wondered, not quite understanding her own reactions. Perhaps it was that compelling ice-blue stare of his that was distorting everything for her.
    “Of course, the whole point is that I can watch what is happening to my valuable stock without actually having to be down there all the time,” he explained easily. “Can’t trust these coloured fellows, as you know, Lady D. And my manager, excellent chap, can’t be everywhere at once. So I need to be able to keep my eye on things.
    “Of course, of course. But I bet you see some amusing things going on in Paradise, too,” suggested Lady Merrick with a touch of unfamiliar archness.
    He didn’t deny it. He even dared to smile at her — Alix—rather meaningly. She found her natural impulse towards amiability—which usually stood her in good stead—beginning to wear very thin.
    To change a distasteful subject she said, “What wonderful flower arrangements, Mr. Gore. Who can have done them?”
    “I do them myself, Miss Rayne. It amuses me. And we bachelors have to learn to do for ourselves, you know.”
    “My dear Eric, you must marry,” Lady Merrick said deeply. “This lovely room would make such a perfect setting for your wife.”
    “My wife. Ah yes. But first I must find her, mustn’t I?”
    The ice-blue gaze returned to Alix, and to her fury she felt herself blushing. He turned his eyes away at once, with swift tact, but not before she had caught the gleam of satisfaction—and something else, acquisitiveness—in them. I detest him, she thought angrily.
    The thought of him arranging bowls of flowers repelled her. Yet there was nothing effeminate about him. On the contrary, he was intensely, disturbingly male. That uneasy thrill she had felt at their first meeting returned to trouble her. She felt strangely ill at ease.
    The whole evening, in fact, was fast turning into a nightmare. She had hoped it would be better when they had changed, and the other guests—all strangers to Alix, from Edward and the surrounding far min g country—had arrived.
    But it was worse. Eric Gore’s manner towards her became so noticeably possessive. As if, she thought indignantly, he had some rights in her. As if he were showing her off.
    I’m imagining it, she told herself—she was, indeed, far from being the sort of girl who thought every man she met was falling for her.
    But she knew she wasn’t imagining this. She knew, intuitively, that Eric Gore—so handsome in his well-cut dinner clothes as to be almost startling—had in fact been attracted from the very moment of their meeting. She guessed, too, at the enormous gusto in him; and that he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.
    During the long, superlative dinner—which she forced herself to eat, so as not to cause comment, though she felt as if it would choke her—she caught interested glances. Arch looks. Raised eyebrows. She could sense that people were intrigued, noticing. She even caught a whisper, indiscreetly loud, later over the coffee and liqueurs: “Such a de lightful, unspoiled girl. But a little too sweet-and-twenty for Eric, wouldn’t you think?”
    She blushed to her hairline with mortification.
    How dare he lay her open to this sort of thing? What right had he? And why didn’t her aunt see what was going on? Or did she see—and not mind?
    The endless evening ended at last. Alix must have acquitted herself better than she knew, so warm were the invitations she received from the other guests to visit them at their homes. It gave her considerable pleasure to be able to say, “Thank you so much—you are so kind—but I’m