Unwed and Unrepentant. Marguerite Kaye

it by deceit? I confess, you surprise me.’

      ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. The man I’ll be dealing with will be Sheikh al-Muhanna, and I’ve no intention of deceiving him.’ Iain stretched his long legs out in front of him, tugging at his neckcloth as if it was too tight. ‘I’ll be straight with you, Cordelia. This deal means a lot to me. It’s not just the money—in fact, it’s not about the money at all. It’s what we talked about that day in Glasgow, you remember?’

      ‘Your turning point.’

      ‘Aye.’ He smiled at her. ‘The engineering challenges alone would have tempted me to go in at a loss. I don’t just want the deal, I need it.’

      ‘And you could have it, can have it, if I tell my father I won’t marry you. I’m sure he wants it as much as you.’

      ‘I’m sure he does, but after today, I’ll be damned if I’ll let him have anything the way he wants. I won’t be manipulated, and I won’t have you pay the price of my victory. You’re a feisty wee thing, and you’ve been hard done to.’

      She threw back her head and glared at him, immediately on the defensive. ‘I don’t need your pity, Iain.’

      ‘I don’t feel sorry for you. I admire you, and I don’t see why you should sacrifice yourself so that I can have what I want, when we can both win. He’s no right to keep you from your own flesh and blood. Your own sisters. If I wasn’t the best person for the job, it would be different,’ Iain said earnestly, ‘but I am, and I’m not about to lose it because the likes of your father wants to stick his oar into my business. Chan eil tuil air nach tig traoghadh.’

      ‘Is that Gaelic?’

      He seemed somewhat disconcerted, as if he had not intended her to hear the words. ‘It means every flood will have an ebb. Your father’s day is coming to an end. It’s not blood that will count in the new age, it’s science, and industry, and people like me who aren’t scared to get their hands dirty.’

      Cordelia shivered. ‘Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you.’

      ‘We are both on the same side. Don’t you want revenge?’

      She stared at him, sifting her responses, measuring them carefully. ‘If you had asked me a few hours ago, I would have said revenge was the last thing on my mind,’ she said finally. ‘I went to Cavendish Square today thinking to achieve reconciliation. Foolish of me, but I had to try. One last time. I shouldn’t have bothered, but at least I can be in no doubt of his feelings. Not even I could persuade myself he cared after that.’

      Fury, red-hot and vicious, caught her suddenly in its grip. The muscles in the backs of her legs actually trembled from it. Her hands were clenched into painful fists. What had she been thinking of! He would never, ever agree to what she wanted from him because he simply didn’t care. ‘He doesn’t love me.’

      There, she had said it out loud. Cordelia looked out of the window. The sky had not fallen down. ‘My father doesn’t love me. My father doesn’t give a damn about me!’ It felt good. It felt very good. There could be no excuses, no mitigating factors. He had been cruel, deliberately so, and malicious too. She forced herself to recall in great detail, every word he had said, determined this time to etch it on to her mind, a sort of memory-prompt should she retract, as she had so often in the past. He didn’t love her, but he thought, he still thought, he owned her, and it was that fact she had until now never truly questioned. Every act of hers had been in defiance. She had never felt entitled to her own life even when she had acted as if she did.

      ‘My God, what a fool I have been.’ It really was as if she had lifted the shutters on a darkened room, allowing the light to filter in, displaying the murky contents for what they were. She owed him nothing. What she had taken for love had been a sense of duty, a habit, nothing more. She didn’t love her father. Right now, thinking of how he had so nearly managed to manipulate her, she almost hated him.

      ‘So you’ll do it?’

      She had almost forgotten Iain in the heat of her anger. It faded now, replaced by something else. She came back across the room towards him, smiling. Power, that’s what she felt, and it was intoxicating. ‘A double coup,’ she said. It was a very satisfying notion. ‘You know, it is really very liberating, being freed from guilt.’ She stretched her arms wide, laughing as she twirled round, the skirts of her gown whirling around her. ‘I feel quite giddy with it.’

      ‘I can see that.’ Iain got to his feet, catching her as she stumbled. ‘Mind you don’t fall.’

      ‘I can mind myself perfectly well. Just because we have an—an alliance doesn’t mean that I can’t fight my own battles.’

      She spoke more aggressively than she intended, but Iain merely smiled. ‘I know that fine, and it’s one of the things I like about you.’

      ‘You mean there’s more than one?’

      She meant it simply to deflect the compliment, to distract her from the realisation that it would be very nice indeed to have someone fight her battles for her, just once. But it was a mistake.