he repeated, resting his gaze on the smooth creaminess of her skin, his eyes not missing the fire she was struggling to hold down. 'That isn't the only reason I came to see you,' he added coolly, and looked quietly at her, not saying another word until Lucy was forced, by his unspoken message that he had no intention of discussing anything with her on the doorstep, to invite him in.
She led the way into the sitting room, seeing the room as he no doubt would view it. It was a large room, a room large enough to take far more furniture than it housed. The
three-piece suit looked lost in it, Lucy thought, but he couldn't know having never been in the room before that it hadn't always been this sparsely furnished, she comforted herself, though he would know the few ornaments dotted about were of not much value. He couldn't know, sharp as he undoubtedly was, that the more valuable pieces of porcelain had been sold, she thought, and she knew his first glance had catalogued the room.
Jud Hemming didn't comment on the room, in fact he looked as though it didn't matter much to him in which room he said what he had come to say-it flashed through her mind he had been equally at home in the kitchen that morning. 'May I?' he asked, indicating one of the chairs.
`Yes, of course,' Lucy replied, having been so taken up with what he might be thinking about the room that she had for the moment forgotten her manners. He waited until she too was seated before taking the chair nearest to him, and she was struck to think she liked this common courtesy. She ousted the thought that she liked anything about him as it came to her that by being seated it looked as though this wasn't going to be a brief 'Call.
`Your brother not in?' he enquired, looking relaxed as he sat back in his chair.
`No,' Lucy answered, sitting on the edge of hers. Then because that short answer had him looking at her questioningly, 'He won't be back tonight. Did you want to see him?'
`Does he often stay away overnight?'
It wasn't anything to do with him what Rupert did, and that was another question he hadn't deigned to answer, not that she could think of any good reason why he should want to see her brother.
`He's twenty-five, he can make his own decision whether he comes home or not.' She felt aggression rising on her brother's behalf.
`And how old are you, Lucy?' he asked smoothly, ignoring her aggression.
`Twenty-two.' She hadn't wanted to answer but couldn't see any good reason why he shouldn't know how old she was. 'How old are you?' She didn't see why he should be the one to ask all the questions.
`Thirty-five,' he supplied. 'You don't mind that your brother goes off and leaves you here on your own-you're quite isolated here and you don't have any live-in staff, do you?'
`We don't have any staff at all,' she said shortly before it came to her that he knew anyway, and that his reference to `live-in staff' had been his tactful way of saying she was there completely on her own. She had never associated him with such sensitivity, and it had her rising out of her chair and asking him merely for something to say to get off the subject, 'Would you care for a drink?'
She subsided into her chair again as with, 'No, thanks,' he refused, then looking at her steadily, he said quietly, `Since you appear to be all on your own this evening, perhaps you would like to come back with me and have dinner
`Up at the Hall?' The question was out when she had no intention of going any further than the front door with him. `At the Hall,' he confirmed.
`No, thanks.' It was a pleasure to turn down his invitation even though she had no idea what had motivated his issuing it—it wasn't from any desire to have her company, of that she was positive. Was it, she wondered, his way of ensuring she didn't date anybody else while she was engaged to him? If he thought ...
`That's a pity,' he broke in on her thoughts. 'My mother was looking forward to your joining us for
She led the way into the sitting room, seeing the room as he no doubt would view it. It was a large room, a room large enough to take far more furniture than it housed. The
three-piece suit looked lost in it, Lucy thought, but he couldn't know having never been in the room before that it hadn't always been this sparsely furnished, she comforted herself, though he would know the few ornaments dotted about were of not much value. He couldn't know, sharp as he undoubtedly was, that the more valuable pieces of porcelain had been sold, she thought, and she knew his first glance had catalogued the room.
Jud Hemming didn't comment on the room, in fact he looked as though it didn't matter much to him in which room he said what he had come to say-it flashed through her mind he had been equally at home in the kitchen that morning. 'May I?' he asked, indicating one of the chairs.
`Yes, of course,' Lucy replied, having been so taken up with what he might be thinking about the room that she had for the moment forgotten her manners. He waited until she too was seated before taking the chair nearest to him, and she was struck to think she liked this common courtesy. She ousted the thought that she liked anything about him as it came to her that by being seated it looked as though this wasn't going to be a brief 'Call.
`Your brother not in?' he enquired, looking relaxed as he sat back in his chair.
`No,' Lucy answered, sitting on the edge of hers. Then because that short answer had him looking at her questioningly, 'He won't be back tonight. Did you want to see him?'
`Does he often stay away overnight?'
It wasn't anything to do with him what Rupert did, and that was another question he hadn't deigned to answer, not that she could think of any good reason why he should want to see her brother.
`He's twenty-five, he can make his own decision whether he comes home or not.' She felt aggression rising on her brother's behalf.
`And how old are you, Lucy?' he asked smoothly, ignoring her aggression.
`Twenty-two.' She hadn't wanted to answer but couldn't see any good reason why he shouldn't know how old she was. 'How old are you?' She didn't see why he should be the one to ask all the questions.
`Thirty-five,' he supplied. 'You don't mind that your brother goes off and leaves you here on your own-you're quite isolated here and you don't have any live-in staff, do you?'
`We don't have any staff at all,' she said shortly before it came to her that he knew anyway, and that his reference to `live-in staff' had been his tactful way of saying she was there completely on her own. She had never associated him with such sensitivity, and it had her rising out of her chair and asking him merely for something to say to get off the subject, 'Would you care for a drink?'
She subsided into her chair again as with, 'No, thanks,' he refused, then looking at her steadily, he said quietly, `Since you appear to be all on your own this evening, perhaps you would like to come back with me and have dinner
`Up at the Hall?' The question was out when she had no intention of going any further than the front door with him. `At the Hall,' he confirmed.
`No, thanks.' It was a pleasure to turn down his invitation even though she had no idea what had motivated his issuing it—it wasn't from any desire to have her company, of that she was positive. Was it, she wondered, his way of ensuring she didn't date anybody else while she was engaged to him? If he thought ...
`That's a pity,' he broke in on her thoughts. 'My mother was looking forward to your joining us for
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