‘Ran you down?’ His grandfather’s brow furrowed with concern.
‘I got a fright when I didn’t hear the motorcycle...it was nothing,’ she assured him gently.
‘Then why bring it up?’ Dare asked pleasantly.
She frowned at him. ‘I didn’t. You did.’
‘Carly, are you sure you’re okay?’ His grandfather’s concern was like an annoying splinter under the skin.
‘Absolutely. Gregory broke his leash again and when I went to get him I wasn’t concentrating well enough.’
‘A woman who admits fault; be still my beating heart,’ Dare mocked softly.
She shot him a fiery look that left scorch marks across the silk rug between them. Dare smiled and watched, transfixed as she collected herself and reinstated her sophisticated façade. The transformation was quite something to behold.
‘I apologise if you thought I was in any way rude, Mr James,’ she said, as if a poker were rammed up her delectable backside. ‘It was not my intention.’
Not now that she knew who he was, anyway. She wouldn’t want to do anything to unsettle her gravy train.
‘Is that right?’ he said smoothly.
Her face coloured again and her little chin went up at the challenging note in his voice.
He trapped her gaze with his. Don’t mess with me, my little beauty, he silently warned. You’ll lose.
She blinked as if to say she had no idea what he was on about and he nearly applauded her for her acting skills.
Instead he dismissed her and set his chilly gaze on his grandfather. ‘Why is she here?’
His grandfather shifted uncomfortably. ‘Carly and I have taken to having a drink before dinner and as I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow I invited her to join us. I hope you don’t mind.’
For reasons he didn’t want to examine, Dare did. Very much. ‘And if I do?’ He asked, sipping his Scotch.
His deceptively amiable question froze the cool smile on Carly’s face.
His grandfather frowned. ‘Carly is...well, she’s a guest of mine,’ he finished lamely.
‘How nice for you.’ Dare ran his hand over the length of the tartan rug, noting the frown on Carly Evans’s face as he did so.
‘I can go.’ She moistened her lips with a nervous flicker of her pink tongue. ‘I don’t mind, really—’
‘Stay,’ Dare said, rethinking his position. It might actually be better to have her around to get a full picture of what was going on.
Her eyes darkened infinitesimally at the command. She obviously liked to be the one in charge.
So did he.
His grandfather cleared his throat to cut through the awkward silence and Dare watched him move to the drinks trolley. ‘Cointreau on ice, Carly?’
‘No, thank you,’ she husked, moving forward. ‘I’ll just have water but, here, let me get it. You sit down.’
The lady had expensive taste, Dare thought, but then he knew that from the ruby necklace, which was markedly absent. In fact she wasn’t wearing any jewellery to speak of. Had she not had time to put it on?
He watched as she fixed her own drink and poured tonic water for Benson without having to ask what he would like. How very comfortable it all was. The nubile, young woman playing up to the doddery old rich fool no doubt hoping he’d kick the bucket soon. Dare couldn’t help but acknowledge that he was disappointed. He’d somehow felt she had more substance to her.
Yeah, right. Substance. Was that what he was calling lust these days?
Nothing like a cold shot of reality to kill that bird dead.
He glanced at her ring finger. No diamond rock there. Obviously she still had some work to do yet.
He felt something primitive unfurl inside him. Something dark and dangerous. Disgust, he told himself. Every one of his senses had gone on high alert as soon as she had entered the room and he didn’t like it that he was so aware of her as a woman. Not when she was screwing his grandfather.
Just the thought of the two of them intimate made his stomach turn. Could a man even get it up at that age? A cynical smile touched the corner of Dare’s mouth. He certainly hoped so.
But he wasn’t here to think about his grandfather’s sordid sex life, he reminded himself. He was here to find out why Benson had contacted his mother, and he wouldn’t let himself get sidetracked by this wide-eyed mistress again.
‘As pleasant as this is,’ Dare mocked, facing off against his grandfather, ‘what I want to know is why you contacted my mother.’
A heavy silence followed his lethally soft words and it sent a chill down Carly’s spine.
When Benson had informed her that his grandson would be joining them for drinks Carly had thought he had meant Beckett, and she’d been pleased that she would be able to return his necklace to him and not have to worry about losing it.
Now she wished that it had been Beckett, because she had no idea how to deal with this arrogant American’s barely veiled hostility. She especially had no idea how to deal with the way her insides jolted with nervous heat every time he trained his piercing blue eyes on her.
The Baron inclined his head towards his grandson, a small sigh escaping past his lips. ‘I didn’t imagine this would be easy.’
Carly noted the aggressive stance in the younger man. He might now only be wearing faded denim jeans and a white T-shirt but he looked no less intimidating for it. In fact he looked even more so because now she could see that he was as leanly muscled as she had first imagined. And with black biker boots on his feet...
‘What did you imagine it would be?’ Dare asked the Baron with cold disdain.
‘Difficult,’ he acknowledged wryly.
‘Glad to see you’re a realist.’ His gaze homed in on the Baron like a shooter lining up a clay pigeon. ‘At first I thought you needed money but given the appearance of the place I’ve discounted that. Which leaves the possibility that you’re sick or dying. Not that you look it.’
A gasp escaped Carly before she could contain it. ‘That is so rude,’ she admonished, welcoming the bite of her temper in replace of her previous uncertainty.
Dare’s lethal gaze swung to hers, pinning her to the spot. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly, ‘what made you think I was talking to you?’
Oh! Carly refused to let him intimidate her. The Baron was her patient and it was her job to make sure he was well enough to undergo surgery to remove a brain tumour the size of a golf ball in two weeks’ time. He needed rest and relaxation, not animosity and outright aggression.
She would probably be able to add heart attack to his list of ailments if his grandson continued on in this vein.
‘You shouldn’t speak to anyone like that!’ she reproved.
‘It’s all right, Carly.’ The Baron patted her hand. ‘Dare has a right to feel angry. And from what I understand my grandson has a reputation for being ruthless, powerful, and relentless when he wants something.’ He listed the traits as if they were trophies to be shown off on a mantel, Carly thought with disgust. ‘It actually pleases me that he feels the need to defend Rachel.’
Carly tried to accept the Baron’s version of things. Rachel, she knew, was Dare’s mother, but other than that she didn’t know anything about their history.
Fortunately the butler chose that moment to enter quietly and announce that dinner was ready to be served.
‘Very