knowing about his past and how he felt so she knew where she stood. If they were unhappy—’
‘I never said they were unhappy,’ he interrupted brusquely. ‘I think they were very happy in their own way.’
‘But it didn’t measure up to what you demanded they should feel about each other? They were supposed to have been the one and only loves in each other’s lives, is that it?’
She watched as a veil came down over the blue eyes, making his gaze unreadable. ‘There is no point in discussing this any further.’
She had never met a man who could get under her skin like this one. The arrogance—the sheer arrogance of thinking he could dismiss her after what he’d accused her mother of. ‘I disagree. You started this and you can jolly well do me the courtesy of answering. And don’t think you can hold the carrot of Seacrest dangling in front of my nose to make me agree black is white, because that won’t work. I’d rather lose Seacrest completely than compromise on what I’ve said to you. Do you understand?’
He glared at her. ‘Don’t talk to me as though I were ten years old.’
‘Then don’t act like it.’ She drew in a shuddering gasp of air, feeling as though someone had punched her in the solar plexus and desperately trying to firm her wobbly bottom lip. She would rather die than let him see how he’d devastated her.
She heard him swear softly under his breath and the next moment a large, crisp white handkerchief was placed in her hands. She reacted as though it were scalding-hot, shoving it back at him as she said, ‘I’m perfectly all right, thank you.’
‘Look, I didn’t mean to say all that, but you’re so…’
‘So what?’ Adrenaline was rushing in and it couldn’t have been more welcome after the last few seconds of being in danger of losing control and bursting into tears. ‘So like my mother? Well, I’ll take that as a compliment if you don’t mind.’
‘For crying out loud!’
The irritation in his voice was acute and, as Marianne fixed her eyes on her hands, she willed herself to calm down. He was a pig of a man and she hated him, but what upset her most was the knowledge that she could never agree to the proposal to work with him and his father and keep Seacrest now. Desolation as deep as the Cornish sea claimed her and she sat in silent misery as she forced her racing heart to steady.
Rafe had jerked to face the dashboard, his hands gripping the steering wheel and his countenance as dark as thunder. Out of the corner of her eye, her gaze fell onto his hands. They were powerful and very masculine, his fingers long and strong and a light dusting of black hair coating the backs of his hands. He wore no rings but what looked like an extremely expensive watch sat on his left wrist. His nails were short and immaculately clean. She liked that in a man.
Hauling her thoughts back from the path they were following, she asked herself why on earth she was thinking about Rafe Steed’s hands at a moment like this. Shock, most probably. The mind retreating into the mundane to cushion itself from the blow it had received. Not that there was anything mundane about Rafe Steed, she added with dark humour. That was one crime which could never be laid at his feet.
‘To address your accusation about our motives for acquiring Seacrest, Miss Carr,’ he said flatly after a little while. ‘I plead not guilty, all right? And I know for a fact there was nothing of “getting one over on your father” in my father’s motives for being interested in the property. He knew the house from a small boy and had spent many happy hours in its grounds playing with your father and Tom, added to which he was upset to find out that Diane’s only child was to be turned out of her home. Genuinely upset. He is not a vindictive man, whatever you might think. It was as we were discussing the situation that the idea of acquiring Seacrest came to us. After all, Gillian had said something about you considering the possibility of a guest house.’
‘That was when I didn’t know about the debts and everything. I thought, at the worst, I had to pay for its upkeep and so on,’ Marianne said numbly. She didn’t know what to think about Andrew Steed’s apparent pity for her. It rankled acutely that she would be beholden to someone who had maligned her parents so badly.
‘My father and I thought of the partnership for practical reasons,’ Rafe continued, as though he had sensed what she was feeling. ‘I’m in the States most of the time and my father will not be in a position to contribute much physically to the alterations needed to set the hotel up and then the running of it once it’s a viable proposition. We’ve found in the past it pays dividends if someone is on board who actually has a fondness for the property, who cares about it.’
In spite of herself, Marianne’s interest was stirred. ‘Are your hotels in the States converted old houses and that sort of thing, then?’
‘Mostly, yes. We offer something different from the ultra-modern, chrome and glass establishments of the twenty-first century. Each of our properties are converted sympathetically. Some are large—eighty rooms or so—and others have merely a handful of rooms, as Seacrest will.’
He turned to face her again and she was conscious of the dark shadow of his chest hair under the thin cotton shirt he was wearing. Her mouth went dry. Ridiculous, but somehow her body kept insisting that she acknowledge her sexual awareness of this man when it was the last thing she wanted to do.
‘I don’t want to argue with you, Miss Carr,’ he said flatly. ‘I mean that. But I’m not prepared to let Seacrest go now my father has expressed an interest in acquiring the property. For that reason I shall buy the house, with or without you on board. If it helps your ultimate decision, most of my time will be spent seeing to our business in the States.’
Marianne flushed in spite of herself. She liked plain speaking but this man took it a step further. Nevertheless, it did help to know he wouldn’t be around much. She had the feeling one male Steed would be quite enough to deal with, even if Rafe’s father was an invalid. And if he was speaking truthfully when he’d declared their reasons for buying Seacrest—if it wasn’t some twisted way to get even with her father—then she’d be crazy to refuse the offer. Once Seacrest had been converted into a small hotel and everything was running smoothly, she might be able to find another post as an occupational therapist down here and leave things more to Crystal. Anything was possible, after all.
She raised her eyes, to find Rafe giving her a long, searching look. ‘The way I see it, my father was the injured party in all of this,’ he said expressionlessly, ‘although I appreciate you feel differently. I think he is being amazingly generous in honouring the memory of your mother by trying to help her daughter.’
‘You think I’m ungrateful.’ The antagonism which had begun to die down a little rose like a hot flood.
‘In a nutshell.’
Charming. ‘And I think you’re rude and overbearing and narrow-minded.’
‘Narrow-minded?’ Rafe objected, raising his brows. ‘Never.’
‘Blinkered, then.’ She wondered why he hadn’t minded rude and overbearing. ‘Seeing things only your way—the way your father has put them.’
‘Excuse me for pointing out the obvious, but aren’t you doing exactly the same?’ Rafe said mildly. ‘Seeing things purely from your mother and father’s standpoint?’
Whilst mentally acknowledging he was right, Marianne said vehemently, ‘That’s different.’
‘I thought it might be.’
Impossible man. Feeling outmanoeuvred, Marianne took refuge in cool dignity. ‘I’m not prepared to discuss this any longer and I suggest if this deal goes through that ought to be the criteria for the future, too. On the rare occasions we meet,’ she added crisply.
‘Suits me.’ His eyes had gone flat and cold.
‘Good.’ She looked at him and swallowed, feeling miserable. ‘Shall we go back to the others now?’
‘Of