to bear.
‘My ego suffered one hell of a shock, that’s for sure.’ Pierce’s laughter was harsh, no trace of humour in it. ‘And my pride.’
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Natalie was filling the kettle as she spoke, concentrating fiercely on what she was doing. ‘I mean, it might help.’
‘No.’ The declaration was hard and unyielding, leaving no room for negotiation. ‘I don’t want to talk about Phillippa, or her reasoning, or my feelings—I’d much rather talk about you.’
‘Me?’ Natalie set the mug she was holding down on the worktop with a crash that revealed her sense of shock. ‘There’s nothing interesting about me.’
‘I beg to differ.’ Pierce settled himself at the table. ‘For one thing, you’re not at all as I remember—you’ve changed.’
‘Hardly surprising when you consider that it’s almost three years since you saw me. It’d be pretty strange if I hadn’t altered in some way in that time. I grew up, Pierce—I’m not a little girl any more.’
‘You’re certainly not,’ he agreed. ‘But there’s more to it than that.’
‘You mean I’m no longer the plain, scrawny teenager who used to hang around the Manor kitchens?’ And who had been foolish enough to let herself believe—dream—that the occasional word or glance he tossed her way meant more than a casual interest in the daughter of one of the family’s employees.
‘No one could describe you as plain any more—you’ve flowered. Though you do yourself no favours scraping your hair back into that appalling spinster’s bun.’
‘I am a spinster, Pierce.’
It was an effort to speak because it was only then, belatedly, that Natalie paused to consider the possible implications of Pierce’s blunt announcement for herself, common sense warning her to take things very carefully.
All those years ago, she would have given anything she possessed for just one word of approval, one compliment from him. Now, when he seemed prepared to give them out with a generous hand, she didn’t know how to deal with it, the question of just what his motives were for being here permanently at the back of her thoughts, setting her mind on edge. After all, he had said that he wanted to talk about his broken engagement, but had then dismissed the subject immediately.
‘Technically, I suppose you are, but I’m sure the term doesn’t really apply—not after three years at college.’
‘I’m an old-fashioned girl.’ Natalie could feel the colour rush into her cheeks as she spoke.
His snort of dismissive laughter was disturbing.
‘Not that old-fashioned, I’ll bet! You’re not trying to tell me you didn’t have a long line of suitors forming a queue outside your door?’
‘Hardly a line.’
‘There must have been someone. You’re not telling me that you spent three years at college and no one even asked you out. What were they all? Zombies?’
‘Nothing like that.’ Natalie’s laughter was close to being genuine, only a little exaggerated in order to ease the tension that still hung in the air. ‘But there was no one special.’
How could there have been, when the man she loved most in all the world was sitting opposite her right now, so close that all she had to do was reach out a hand and she could touch him, stroke his cheek, brush back the lock of silky black hair that had fallen over his forehead—?
Becoming aware of the way that Pierce was watching her, the disturbing intensity of that sapphire-blue gaze, she dragged herself back to reality with an effort.
‘But you’re not claiming that no one got a look-in?’.
‘If by “a look-in” you mean did any of them move in with me or vice versa, then no!’
Natalie stirred the coffee she had made with unnecessary force, before placing the mug on the table beside him, hoping that the jerky movement conveyed more indignation than the uneasy churning in the pit of her stomach she was actually feeling.
‘Why are you harping on about this? I told you I was an old-fashioned sort of girl.’
‘I’m not harping, just interested—and that’s not so much old-fashioned as positively puritanical.’ Pierce laughed. ‘Are you trying to claim that you were waiting for Mr Right to come along?’ He sounded frankly incredulous, a deeply sardonic amusement lacing his tone.
But what he had said was just a bit too close to the truth for comfort. Belatedly, Natalie realised that instead of damping down his curiosity she was in fact fanning its flames with her attempts to dodge his questions.
‘Oh, all right, there was one man—Gerry. We were—close all the time I was at college.’
Gerry wouldn’t mind his name being taken in vain. He had wanted to be more to her than a friend. In fact, they had shared several very pleasant evenings which, for his part, he might have thought would lead to greater things, but which to Natalie were simply that—enjoyable nights out with an attractive man as her escort. The lighthearted kisses she had given him had remained totally uninvolved, sparking off none of the disturbing sensations that Pierce’s lightest touch could arouse.
‘I thought there must have been—when do you see him?’
‘I don’t.’ It might have been safer to pretend to an ongoing, passionate relationship with Gerry, but she couldn’t do it. ‘When we left Sheffield he got a job in Edinburgh.’
‘And it’s not a case of absence making the heart grow fonder?’
‘More like out of sight, out of mind, though we do write occasionally.’
‘Very occasionally, from the sound of your voice,’ Pierce murmured. ‘Whatever your Gerry did, it certainly riled you.’
‘It’s not what he did—it’s what you’re doing.’
‘Me?’ Pierce froze, his mug half raised, his look of confusion so apparently uncontrived that Natalie could almost believe it was genuine.
‘Yes, you—you’re prying into my private life.’ The knowledge of how dangerously close he had come to the truth made her voice tart. ‘Asking too many questions.’
‘The privilege isn’t exclusive,’ Pierce returned, surprising her. ‘You can ask as well as answer. Oh, come on, Nat!’ he laughed when she looked distinctly sceptical. ‘This isn’t the girl I know and love! As I recall, the problem used to be shutting you up rather than getting you to talk.’
‘And I can ask anything?’ Natalie asked with only a tiny shake in her voice. Her peace of mind demanded that she try to ignore that ‘I know and love’, being only too well aware of just how cynically it was meant.
‘Anything within reason.’
‘Then why did you decide to get married?’
The question was so close to the surface of her mind that it burst from her before she had time to consider whether it was really wise, but at least she bad enough presence of mind to catch herself up in time and not add the name that would have revealed that what she really wanted to ask was ‘Why did you want to marry Phillippa?’
But she’d overstepped the mark this time; she knew it as she saw the way that his face closed up, his mouth hardening, the muscles in his jaw tightening.
‘It’s all right! I shouldn’t-’
‘You asked—I’ll answer. After all—’ Pierce’s laugh was a travesty of genuine humour, no warmth in it at all ‘—after what’s happened, it would probably be a good idea to have a look at my motives—see exactly how I got myself into this mess.’
If she had regretted the question moments before, then now she wished she had cut her