he said knowingly.
Kit raised her head to look around them worriedly, concerned that someone might hear their conversation, reassured when she saw that no one was listening. She turned back to Desmond. ‘Of course I’m not falling in love with Marcus—’
‘Of course you aren’t,’ Desmond echoed her words teasingly. ‘In the same way I’m not still in love with my wife.’
Kit gave a rueful smile. ‘No, I really mean it—’
‘So do I,’ Desmond encouraged sympathetically. ‘Ah, the victor returns,’ he said with satisfaction after a glance over her shoulder. ‘No doubt battle-scarred but victorious!’
Kit was almost afraid to turn round and see which one of the two men had just re-entered the house, Marcus or Mike. Not that she thought for a moment that it wouldn’t be Marcus; there was just no comfort in it, knowing how furious he was with her.
She sighed, the tingling sensation she felt down her spine telling her that it was indeed Marcus who had just re-entered the house. And that he was making his way across the room to where they stood talking. ‘I shall have to leave, of course—’
‘You most certainly will not,’ Desmond told her firmly, his hand once again clasping her shoulder. ‘You’re the only thing that’s making this whole weekend bearable!’
‘How touching,’ drawled that all-too-familiar voice. ‘Really, Kit,’ Marcus said with hard derision as he moved to stand beside her, his shrewd gaze having taken in Desmond’s proprietary hold on her, ‘you’re turning into quite the femme fatale!’
‘She is a femme fatale,’ Desmond told him happily. ‘Beautiful. With a delightful sense of humour. Sensuous. Deliciously—calm down, Marcus,’ he ordered as the younger man made an impatient movement. ‘You can’t go around fighting every man Kit so much as talks to, you know.’
Poor Desmond had this all so wrong, it would have been laughable if it weren’t so tragic. She was falling in love with Marcus. But he certainly didn’t feel the same way about her, despite his defence of her just now. And she very much doubted that he appreciated the suggestion that he did!
‘Ah, to add to the intrigue, the lovely Andrea returns,’ Desmond observed speculatively as Andrea Revel came back into the room.
The beautiful, sensuous, delicious Andrea Revel, Kit acknowledged heavily, knowing that the other woman really was everything that she wasn’t herself. Andrea also looked stunningly attractive this evening in a bright red silk sheath of a dress that clung to her voluptuous curves. A fact she was obviously completely aware of as she strolled across the room to rejoin Derek Boyes.
Frankly, Kit had had enough of all of them for one evening!
‘I’m afraid I have a headache.’ She spoke to Desmond Hayes, deliberately keeping her gaze averted from the broodingly silent Marcus, one quick glance having shown her that, despite what Desmond had said, he showed no visible battle scars. But the fact that Mike Reynolds hadn’t reappeared seemed to say that Desmond was right about which man had been the victor. ‘If you will excuse me?’ she added for politeness’ sake only, not waiting for a response from either man before she turned and hurriedly left the room, looking to neither left nor right as she did so. She certainly didn’t want to see Catherine Grainger again before she went to bed!
What a disaster of a weekend this was turning out to be! There wasn’t a single person here that she wanted to be with. Although Desmond Hayes had been something of a surprise these last few minutes, not at all what she had expected. Surprisingly, she actually found herself liking him. He—
‘Oh, no, you don’t!’ Marcus grated gruffly, grasping the bedroom door as Kit would have closed it behind her.
Kit turned to look at him apprehensively. She had been completely unaware of him following her up the stairs—not surprising really, when her thoughts had been so full of the misery she had endured the last couple of hours!
‘Let’s go inside,’ Marcus said, not waiting for her answer before moving past her into the bedroom.
Kit followed slowly, shutting the door quietly behind her, sensing his reproving gaze on her before she even looked at him. But once she had looked at him, she wished that she hadn’t, the grimness of his voice more than reflected in his harshly set features!
‘Well, you’ve certainly made a spectacle of yourself this evening, haven’t you?’ he said scornfully, thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets as he stared across the room at her.
‘I have?’ She gasped her indignation, feeling her anger starting to rise. ‘I’m not the one who spent fifteen minutes out of the room with one woman and then came back and started acting all proprietorial about another one!’ She glared at him accusingly, well past the mood of caution. And if Marcus sacked her for her outspokenness—fine! She really wasn’t sure how they were going to continue to work together after this weekend, anyway.
‘I’m flattered that you actually took note of the time,’ he drawled.
‘I didn’t,’ she told him swiftly. ‘Mike was the one who noticed Andrea following you out of the room, and Desmond remarked on her return.’ She threw her evening bag down on the bed. ‘I couldn’t give a damn what you do!’ Her eyes sparkled deeply grey in her anger. ‘Or, in fact, who you do it with!’
Marcus was very still, only a nerve pulsing in his jaw to tell of his own fury. ‘Couldn’t you?’ he prompted softly.
‘No!’ she assured him decisively. ‘As for going outside with Mike Reynolds—! Did the two of you actually have a fight?’ She still found that whole scene unbelievable.
‘Nothing so crude, Kit,’ Marcus responded tersely. ‘There are far subtler ways of dealing with a man like Mike Reynolds than resorting to physical violence. But how the hell do you even know a man like him? He said something about the two of you being involved seven months ago?’ His eyes had narrowed to blue slits.
Kit gave a frustrated shake of her head. ‘I thought you said you had read my résumé?’
‘So I have,’ Marcus confirmed with a perplexed frown. ‘But what does that have to do with—?’ He broke off abruptly, grimacing self-derisively as he momentarily closed his eyes.
‘Exactly,’ she bit out disgustedly, knowing the truth had finally dawned. ‘Mike Reynolds is a prime example of what is meant by sexual harassment in the workplace. I utterly detest the man,’ she finished with a shudder of distaste.
‘Perhaps I should have hit him, after all,’ Marcus muttered.
‘Not on my account, no,’ Kit assured him hastily.
He gave a ragged sigh. ‘It seems I owe you an apology.’
‘Accepted,’ Kit said gruffly. ‘Now would you please leave my bedroom?’ She really had had quite enough for one day!
He drew in a harsh breath. ‘One way or another, this has been—quite an enlightening evening, hasn’t it?’
For whom? It certainly wasn’t anything that Kit would want to live through again.
‘Perhaps,’ she returned noncommittally. ‘But in the circumstances, I think it might be best if I were to leave here tomorrow.’
Before anything else disastrous happened!
‘Because of Mike Reynolds?’ Marcus queried. ‘I believe he’s leaving himself in the morning.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Your doing?’
‘My doing,’ Marcus confirmed levelly.
Okay, so the Mike Reynolds problem might have been dealt with. But that still left Catherine Grainger…
‘I would still rather leave,’ Kit told him determinedly, knowing it was for the best.
Marcus paused