Permission To Love

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‘She’s very attractive,’ Lindsay responded weakly, feeling honour-bound to defend her stepsister-in-law.

‘Sure if you like icebergs,’ Caroline came back forthrightly, ‘I’m sure she doesn’t have an ounce of human warmth in her, and Lucas never strikes me as being a man who’s madly in love with his wife, does he you?’

‘He’s always been adept at hiding his feelings …’

‘Is that what it is? Sometimes I get the feeling he’s put them into cold storage,’ Caroline came back. ‘I wonder if he’s faithful to her?’

She saw her flat-mate’s expression and grimaced. ‘Okay, so he’s everything the perfect husband should be, but she’s very far from being the perfect wife. I didn’t say anything before but when I was in Gstaad this winter I saw her there … and not with Lucas.’

‘She’s a very keen skier,’ Lindsay told her a little stiffly, ‘Lucas is a busy man … perhaps he couldn’t get away. And anyway just because you saw her with another man that doesn’t mean …’

‘That she’s having an affair with him? Don’t you believe it,’ Caroline told her. ‘They might have had separate rooms and they might have been discreet but they were lovers all right … you can’t mistake the signs.’

‘Don’t tell me … I don’t want to hear any more,’ Lindsay wanted to plead, and like a warning bell, a comment of Lucas’ surfaced from the past. ‘You always want to avoid awkward situations Lindsay, but you can’t spend the rest of your life doing that. One day I hope you’re going to opt for pleasing yourself rather than simply pleasing others.’

And it was true. Intelligent; attractive, popular, she knew she was all of those things and yet deep inside herself she saw herself as a coward. As a child she had striven desperately hard after her mother’s death to please her father … to take the place of the woman they had both lost, and had always been nagged by the feeling that she had somehow failed; that the intelligence and stamina she had inherited from him, detracted, in his eyes, from her character and that he would have preferred her to be more like her delicate, hesitant mother. At school too, she had tried to please, breaking the pattern only that summer she had been sixteen, and then of course with Lucas. Lucas was the only person she suddenly realised, with whom she had been able to be properly herself. He had always encouraged her to state her own opinion, to argue with him if she felt so inclined. Lucas had never demanded that she fitted herself into any preconceived ideas he might have about her. But Lucas had changed when her father died; he had ceased being a beloved brother and mentor and become instead a remote, cold stranger, who no longer hugged or touched her in any way; who did not encourage her to talk to him and who eventually married Gwendolin, thus ensuring that there would be a gulf between them for ever. Was Caroline right? Was Gwen unfaithful to him? But why? She had never made any secret of her desire for Lucas. She had in fact pursued him relentlessly, so why break her marriage vows and take a lover?

‘Seeing Jeremy tonight?’ Caroline enquired, changing the subject. Lindsay shook her head. ‘I need an early night. I’m taking a break from the office next week, so I want to clear my desk first.’

‘Are you and Jeremy going away?’

Once again Lindsay shook her head. ‘No. I haven’t had a break yet this year. I thought I might do a little bit of shopping … unwind a bit, relax …’

‘Mmm … well I’d better fly. Simon’s taking me to dinner, and if I don’t get a move on I won’t be ready.’

Simon was the new man in Caroline’s life. Her menfriends lasted on average a matter of weeks rather than months, and unlike Lindsay she was constantly falling in and out of love.

LINDSAY finished work early on Friday afternoon and returned home to pack. She had almost finished when the ‘phone rang. Her nerves tensed totally unexpectedly, and until she picked up the receiver and heard Jeremy’s familiar voice she didn’t realise that her tension had been in case the caller was Lucas.

‘Lindsay I’ve got some bad news,’ Jeremy began without preamble. ‘I’m not going to be able to make it this weekend. Something’s come up and I have to fly up to Scotland to see a client.’

There had been several occasions recently when Jeremy had had to work at the weekend, and as Lindsay suppressed her annoyance she heard him saying, ‘Look why don’t you go home as planned—after all, you’re going to want to tell your brother about our engagement before we make it public. My parents will want to put a notice in the Times, once we’ve made things official next weekend.’

What Jeremy was saying made good sense, Lindsay knew that and yet she was filled with an intense feeling of reluctance to do as he suggested. She didn’t want to see Lucas without the protection of Jeremy’s presence, but why?

Shaking aside her nebulous fears, she spoke to Jeremy for several more minutes, eventually agreeing that she would go ahead as they had planned.

Once she had replaced the receiver she wandered into her bedroom wondering what to wear for the journey, and eventually settling on an attractive soft green wool crêpe pleated skirt with a toning sweater. The green reinforced the unusual tawniness of her eyes, and her skin which tanned well, glowed softly golden. They had had a good spring and early summer, and the sun had bleached her hair slightly adding natural highlights, but as she applied her make-up with deft, practised strokes Lindsay was unaware of her own attractions. She didn’t want to go home, she recognised unhappily, but she had to … It’s only for one weekend, she reminded herself, and yet inwardly she was dreading it; dreading seeing Lucas … and of course Gwendolin.

She left London an hour later, driving the Escort car she had bought for herself several months earlier. By most people’s standards she and Jeremy could live quite comfortably on their joint salaries, but of course Jeremy had responsibilities towards the estate—heavy and expensive responsibilities, which she suspected were the main reason he was marrying her. What did she want, she asked herself in exasperated impatience as she automatically turned her car in the direction of her home. She didn’t love Jeremy passionately herself and yet here she was questioning his own lack of passion for her. Hadn’t she accepted yet, in spite of all the evidence to support it, that she was simply not a woman with deeply passionate sexual feelings?

The late afternoon traffic was heavy and she forced herself to switch her attention from her unprofitable thoughts to her driving.

As she drove westward, Lindsay found the traffic gradually thinning out and when she took the familiar turning off the motorway several miles before Bath, she had the narrow road almost all to herself.

Almost all too soon she was driving through the familiar villages, the last one, Hinton St Jude, still as chocolate box pretty as ever with its thatched roofed cottages, their front gardens a rich blaze of colour. It was only a couple of miles from the village to the house, a small square Georgian building set in attractive parklands.

The electrically operated gates stood open and Lindsay’s stomach muscles clenched as she drove through. She was dreading the weekend more and more with every moment that passed.

She parked her car in front of the house, a little surprised to find the gravel parking area otherwise empty. Climbing out of the car without pausing to check her make-up or hair she walked up to the front door. It still seemed strange to be knocking on the door of what was legally at least still her home, but Gwendolin had made it quite plain shortly after her marriage that Lessings was now her home, and that as its mistress she expected Lindsay to behave as a guest.

Five minutes went by without any sign of anyone coming to answer her knock. She still had her old keys—it had seemed foolish to keep them but for some reason she had, and feeling more like an intruder than a member of the household, she fished through her bag for the front door keys, wondering as she inserted them into the lock if they would still work or if Gwendolin had had the locks changed. The door swung open easily as the key fitted, and once she was inside the hall, a wave of nostalgia overwhelmed her as she breathed in the unmistakable scents of pot-pourri and wax polish. In her mother’s and then Sheila’s day the house had always smelled like this, and it had been a smell she loved, but Gwendolin hated it, describing it as medieval, and the bowls of pot-pourri and the old fashioned beeswax had been banished. Now it seemed both were back.

Standing at the foot of the stairs, Lindsay called out experimentally, but there was no response. The distinct feeling that she was alone in the house would not leave her, and she walked slowly into the kitchen. Where was everyone?

A note was propped up conspicuously on the refectory table, and Lindsay picked it up skimming through it. At least she now had an explanation for the housekeeper’s absence. It seemed her sister had been involved in a car accident and she had been called in to take care of her. But where was Gwen? Her sister-in-law, Lindsay remembered had an extremely active social life, but even so she felt a tiny prick of annoyance that there was no one here to welcome her. She left the kitchen and wandered back through the hall into the immaculate drawing room. Gwen had called in a team of interior designers shortly after her marriage, and Lindsay had never liked the cold sophisticated rooms they had created. She had preferred the faded chintzes of her mother’s and Sheila’s time, and she grimaced in faint distaste at the sterile purity of the now almost all white and chrome room.

As she remembered the only room the designers had not been allowed to touch were the kitchen and Lucas’ study, and her old bedroom.

Lucas! Her stomach felt as though it had suddenly been twisted painfully, her nerves so on edge that she felt acute nausea. Where was he? At work no doubt at this time of day. Her mouth hardened slightly. Couldn’t he even be bothered to come home to welcome her? Welcome her? A harsh bitter laugh escaped her compressed lips and echoed into the thick silence. That would be the day. No doubt he was as anxious to get his weekend over with as she was herself.

And yet, almost without volition her footsteps led her in the direction of his study. The door was half open and Lindsay walked in, a puzzled frown creasing her forehead as she saw the neat pile of correspondence on his desk. She walked closer and saw on the top of one pile a neatly written note in what she now recognised as the housekeeper’s handwriting. ‘Miss Lindsay ‘phoned’, it read, ‘she and a friend are coming down for the weekend. I have put Miss Lindsay in her old room and her friend in the guest suite.’

Lindsay thought quickly. Did this mean that Lucas didn’t know she was coming down this weekend? But why would the housekeeper leave a note for Lucas? Why not simply tell Gwen? Frowning deeply Lindsay made her way back to the kitchen and filled the kettle. While she was waiting for it to boil she pondered on what she ought to do. Plainly whatever business had taken Lucas away from home had delayed him and the housekeeper had not had an opportunity to inform him of her visit. On the other hand it was equally plain that he was expected home imminently—the fridge was full of food for one thing. Although it was tempting to simply get back in her car and return to London all she would be doing was putting off the eventual ordeal. She hadn’t realised until now how much she had been nerving herself for this meeting. If she left without seeing Lucas she would have it all to live through again. The kettle boiled and Lindsay automatically went through the motions of making herself a pot of tea. She would take it upstairs with her and have a shower. That might help her to relax. At least she knew where she was sleeping. If, when Gwen came back she objected to the way she, Lindsay, had made herself at home, well she had only herself to blame for not being on hand to receive her. Her mind made up Lindsay poured her tea and went back into the hall.

Her bedroom had not suffered too much from the decorators; the theme of lemon and white she had chosen as a teenager was still retained; the bedhangings, curtains and chair were all in a soft lemon and white chintz, the carpet a toning pale lemon. Lucas had been the one to suggest that she was old enough for a more grown-up colour scheme than the old pink and white she had had since childhood—he had arranged for her room to be redecorated as a fifteenth birthday surprise, she remembered. She had been so excited and thrilled … Sighing faintly she went back downstairs; garaged her car at the back of the house and brought up her suitcase.

She had just stepped out of the shower when she became aware of someone’s presence in her bedroom. Thinking it must be Gwendolin she pulled on her robe hurriedly, grimacing faintly as the thin silk clung to her still damp skin, and opened her shower room door.

It wasn’t Gwen who stood there watching her but Lucas, his dark eyebrows drawn together in a frown, his skin stretched almost too tightly over the bones of his face.

‘Lindsay … what the devil …’

There was a grimness to his mouth that Lindsay well remembered, but the pain darkening his eyes was new, and so too was the tiredness plainly discernible in his drawn features and almost gaunt frame.

Suddenly becoming aware from the way he was looking at her, of the flimsiness of her damp robe, Lindsay hugged her arms protectively around her body, and muttered crossly. ‘I thought you were Gwendolin …’

‘Now why, I wonder should you think that.’

The tiredness was gone and in its place was a febrile bitterness that mocked and taunted. ‘What are you doing here?’

His tormenting was replaced by curt anger, and it lit a corresponding flame of anger in Lindsay.

‘This is still my home,’ she reminded him, her chin lifting belligerently, ‘even though you have contrived to make it as uncomfortable a one as possible for me.’

He had the grace to colour faintly, but there was no remorse in his eyes as they locked on her face. ‘I repeat, what are you doing here.’

‘Nothing that you need worry about,’ Lindsay told him acidly, ‘In fact I think when you hear what I’ve got to say you’ll be pleased. I’m getting engaged.’

‘Engaged!’

Just for a moment she thought he looked shocked, ill almost but instantly his expression changed to be replaced by one of cynical mockery. ‘Well, Well … and who is the fortunate man?’

‘Jeremy Byles,’ Lindsay told him curtly. Why was it that every time they met they rubbed one another raw like this? If they could not regain their old camaraderie, surely they could still meet as civilised human beings; not the snapping snarling enemies the sight of one another seemed to turn them into. ‘Jeremy was to have accompanied me here … he wanted to advise you of our engagement before his parents make a formal announcement next week.’

A bitter smile curved the thin mouth. ‘To advise me of it, or to gain my approval?’ Lucas queried. ‘He does know the terms of your father’s will I take it?’

‘Of course,’ Bitter anger flashed in Lindsay’s topaz eyes, ‘but you need not worry Lucas, Jeremy is everything my father would have wanted for me in a husband.’

‘Which is why you chose him?’

‘Am I allowed to marry for any other reason?’ Until she had said it she hadn’t realised how much of a burden her father’s wishes were to her. She didn’t love Jeremy she acknowledged, at least not as she had once dreamed of loving a man, and she could sense the speculation in the look Lucas was giving her.

‘Since you can’t produce your fiancé for my inspection and approval, I can’t see that there was much point in coming down here,’ he infuriated her by saying. ‘Why did you?’

‘I’d already made my plans.’ Lindsay was seething … her temper, normally so slow to ignite already at danger point. ‘This is my home, Lucas,’ she reminded him sharply, ‘I don’t need your permission to come here, no matter how unwelcome you choose to make me. Jeremy is everything my father wanted for me in a husband,’ she pointed out for a second time. ‘You could have no possible grounds for refusing to …’

‘Hand your inheritance over to him? Poor Lindsay, do I really keep you so short of money that you’re obliged to marry the first blue-blooded idiot you can find?’

‘It has nothing to do with the money—at least not on my side, you must know that,’ Lindsay stormed back at him.

‘Then why so concerned about my approval? True love needs no approval.’ He all but sneered the words at her, and Lindsay knew that he was telling her he did not believe she loved Jeremy. Perhaps he was right … but knowing that only whipped up her resentment and anger.

‘What do you want me to do? Spend the rest of my life living alone without husband or children, all because I …’

Just in time she stopped herself from completing what she had been about to say, too appalled by the words that had been on the tip of her tongue to even be aware of the way Lucas was watching her. ‘Because I couldn’t have you,’ she had been about to say, and she started to tremble, terrified of the totally unexpected emotions her subconscious had suddenly dredged up. ‘You’re being totally unreasonable Lucas,’ she said tiredly instead. ‘You haven’t even met Jeremy yet and you know nothing about him. I’m sorry if my being here is an inconvenience to you. Just say the word, and I’ll pack and go. I had thought after all this time we could perhaps as least talk civilly to one another, but it seems I was wrong.’ She turned away from him and bent down to pick up her case.

‘I’ll leave you to make my excuses to Gwendolin, although I don’t expect she wanted me here any more than you do.’

‘I’m quite sure you’re right,’ he mocked sardonically, ‘Or at least you would be if Gwen still lived here.’

Lindsay’s head shot up, her eyes rounding in stunned amazement as she stared at him. ‘She …’

‘She and I decided to go our separate ways shortly after Christmas,’ Lucas told her curtly. ‘The divorce came through several weeks ago.’

Lindsay felt so shaken that she subsided on to her bed, her case forgotten. ‘You and Gwendolin are divorced …’ she shook her head, unable to comprehend what he was saying. ‘But why … why didn’t you let me know … why …’

Lucas shrugged powerful shoulders, turning his back on her as he replied hardily. ‘Why should I? There was never any love lost between the pair of you, and besides my marriage is hardly your concern is it?’

Angry colour flamed hotly in Lindsay’s face. ‘You are my brother, Lucas,’ she reminded him stiffly, only to be corrected with his soft answer.

‘Stepbrother … there’s no real tie between us Lindsay, you know that.’

Lindsay decided to ignore his pointed gibe and instead said huskily, ‘But you and Gwen … I can hardly believe it …’

‘Oh I don’t think I believe that. Gwen made her dissatisfaction with our marriage plain enough I always thought. The man she went away with wasn’t her first lover.’

So Gwen had left him! Odd, she had never thought of that happening. Gwen had been so determined to marry him … so obvious in her desire for him that Lindsay could not believe that she had actually been the one to be unfaithful. And Lucas … he had married Gwen after all, so why should she be so surprised because he sounded so hurt and bitter. He must have cared for her. Just because she did not care for Gwen it did not follow that Lucas had not done so … quite the contrary; after all he had married her; and was apparently so bitterly unhappy about their divorce that he was losing weight, the bitterly cynical streak in him increasingly marked.

He moved suddenly wrenching off his tie, and thrusting open the top buttons of his shirt. For a moment he looked so tired and defenceless that Lindsay’s soft heart ached. He was still after all the same Lucas whom she so admired and worshipped …

‘You look tired.’ The soft, sympathetic words were out before she could stop them. Lucas grimaced faintly but made no attempt to respond with the bitter mockery she had come to expect. ‘Transatlantic flight does have that effect.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Where the devil’s Mrs James?’

‘She’s left you a note,’ Lindsay told him. ‘Apparently her sister’s ill and she’s needed to nurse her.’

‘Hell!’ Lucas swore explosively. ‘I’ve got an American client coming over at the end of the week for a business meeting. I had intended to put him up here. We desperately need to secure a contract with him …’

‘Is the business in difficulties then?’ Lindsay was instantly worried.

‘Not to any extent that will jeopardise your inheritance, if that’s what’s worrying you.’ Lucas gave her a sour smile. ‘It’s just that last year we invested in some pretty expensive re-equipping that will pay off in the long run, but which has left us short of working capital for the present. We’re still making enough profit to provide a skimming of butter on our bread, but the American contract would guarantee the jam … Worried that I might abscond with your inheritance Lindsay and that your blue-blooded suitor might reject you?’

He sounded so bitter that Lindsay was puzzled. Lucas knew the terms of her father’s will as well as she did herself, but surely he knew her better than to believe she would marry simply to get her hands on her inheritance? The money did not matter in the slightest to her; no, what concerned her was her own sense of loyalty and duty to her father’s wishes—old-fashioned perhaps, but then that was how she had been brought up, and yes, it hurt that Lucas should not know without her having to say it in so many words, why she was committing herself to marriage with Jeremy.

‘No, Lucas,’ she told him levelly at last. ‘I obviously have more faith and trust in your sense of honour than you do in mine. I’ll pack my things and leave,’ she added, getting up off the bed and reaching for her case.

‘No.’ His denial was forceful and sharp. ‘It’s too late for you to set off back to town at this time of evening,’ he told her when she looked at him. ‘You might as well stay now you’re here.’ He rubbed long fingers over the dark stubble on his jaw. ‘I’d better go and grab a shower and a shave. I was on my way to do so when I heard the shower running in here. I thought for a moment that someone had broken in.’

‘And having done so was taking a shower?’ Lindsay’s eyebrows rose, her irrepressible sense of fun bringing a smile to her lips, but Lucas didn’t respond with a smile of his own. Instead his eyes changed from charcoal to black, smouldering darkly into her own before he turned on his heel and left her room.

CHAPTER THREE

FOR a long time after Lucas had gone, Lindsay simply stood, staring out of her bedroom window. Gwendolin and Lucas were divorced; it seemed almost impossible to believe. Almost as impossible as believing that Gwen had been the one to stray … to take a lover … no, lovers, if Lucas was to be believed. But why? She had never liked the older woman, but she had recognised her fiercely intense desire for Lucas.

Frowning slightly Lindsay withdrew from the window, suddenly becoming aware of the chilly breeze and the thinness of her robe. As she walked towards the wardrobe, the mirror on the dressing table threw back her reflection and she grimaced faintly. The thin robe clung silkily to her skin, outlining the full curves of her breasts, following the indentation of her waist and then the narrow out-thrust of her hips. Disturbed by her own inner awareness of her sexuality she dressed hurriedly. Lucas had not proved overreceptive to the news of her engagement; in fact he had been almost brutal in his mockery of it. Her chin tilted proudly. Yes, it was true in some respects that without her father’s money Jeremy would not want to marry her, but that was not something she did not already know. What did Lucas want her to do? she wondered wrathfully. Fall in love with someone totally unsuitable just so that he could have the pleasure of pointing out her folly to her and reminding her of her father’s wishes?

Of course it was only natural that Lucas should be bitter and angry at Gwendolin’s desertion, but why take it out on her? She would have plenty of opportunity to talk to him over dinner, she reminded herself, wishing again that Jeremy had been able to accompany her. If Lucas could see and talk to Jeremy himself he would realise the rightness of her decision. Perhaps there was no excitement or deeply intense emotion in her relationship with Jeremy, but there was liking and mutual respect that would build a good life together. Sexual chemistry was all very well in its way, but Lindsay wasn’t sure if she would trust such volatile emotions. Startlingly, for the first time it struck her that the reason she might never have experienced intense physical desire was because she had deliberately programmed herself against doing so. She could remember quite vividly the feeling of self disgust and shame she had experienced when Gwendolin had accused her of wanting Lucas as a man and not as a brother. Her seventeen year old self had been shocked by the older woman’s vitriolic claim and had instantly denied it, but she could not deny that Lucas was an extremely attractive man. Even just now, despite his bitter anger, she had sensed the magnetic pull of his personality; the heady, breathless sensation of no longer being quite in control of herself or her reactions.

She was here to inform Lucas of her impending engagement, not to daydream about the past, she reminded herself severely, opening her wardrobe and surveying the clothes she had brought with her. She had come prepared for all contingencies, knowing Gwendolin’s love of entertaining, but it seemed hardly appropriate to wear an evening dress simply to dine with Lucas. She frowned over a tweed skirt and toning silk shirt, dismissing them as not dressy enough and eventually decided on the soft lilac Jean Muir dress she had owned for several seasons and which remained a firm favourite, the excellence of the fabric and its cut ensuring that it was suitable for a whole host of occasions.

The colour suited her, emphasising the delicacy of her pale English complexion, the long lean line of the dress with its swing of pleats from the hip, comfortable and yet at the same time subtly feminine. Brushing her hair thoroughly she secured it in a loose chignon, on impulse putting in her ears the pearl and diamond studs which had been Lucas’ eighteenth birthday present to her. She wasn’t wearing Jeremy’s ring. He wanted to present it to her formally next weekend when they went to visit his parents but for some reason tonight she would have welcomed its presence on her finger. Why? Because she felt that wearing it might convince Lucas of the rightness of their engagement. She didn’t need his permission to marry she reminded herself … Jeremy was everything her father had wanted for her in a husband. Sighing faintly she sprayed her wrists lightly with perfume and then remembering the housekeeper’s absence, decided that if they were to eat dinner, she’d better go downstairs and see about preparing it.

In the event there wasn’t a good deal of preparation necessary. The housekeeper had left everything ready in the fridge, and all Lindsay was required to do was to heat it up in the oven. She was a good cook who enjoyed exercising her skill. When she was married to Jeremy she felt sure she would have plenty of opportunity to do so. He would not want her to work; he had already told her that much and when, as was eventually planned, he took over the running of the estate from his father, she would have plenty to occupy her time. Until then she would be expected to occupy herself preparing clever little dinner parties for Jeremy’s friends and clients, shopping … gossiping … having children. It was the accepted mode of wifely behaviour amongst Jeremy’s set.

It seemed silly when there was just the two of them for them to dine formally in the vastness of the dining room, so instead Lindsay placed cutlery and glasses on the much smaller table of the little breakfast room just off the kitchen. She had always liked this room which caught the early morning sun and although Gwen had completely altered the decor and furnishings, standing by the window observing the view she had observed so often as a child, brought back a stream of half-submerged memories.

‘Wondering how you can get your own way?’

She hadn’t heard Lucas come in, and she turned tensely at the sound of his voice, instantly aware of the clean male scent of him … of the fact that his hair was still faintly damp from his shower, and that his body, beneath its civilized sheath of sophisticated clothes, moved with all the predatory grace of the hunter.

‘No … as a matter of fact, I was remembering how I fell in the lake the year I was twelve, and how you fished me out.’

It was no less than the truth, and just for a moment his mouth softened slightly and she was almost able to persuade herself that he was once again the old Lucas whom she had loved so much … and who, she had once thought, loved her in return.

‘Yes … You don’t know how close you came to being walloped. You’d been expressly forbidden to ride your bike along the lake path.’

The bike in question—a brand new two wheeler had been a birthday present and she had desperately wanted to try it out. It had been raining heavily for several days though and the lakeside path had been dangerously muddy. She had known all this, but still she had defied Lucas’ suggestion that she wait to try the bike until he could go with her. She had paid for her defiance with a thorough soaking and a bad fright … Lucas had been furious … she remembered grimacing faintly, and she could well remember sensing how angry he was with her. But he had taught her to ride … and then she had known instinctively that beneath the anger there was a deep vein of caring. Where had it all gone?

‘Dinner’s ready,’ she told him, forcing herself back to the present. ‘If you sit down I’ll go and get it for you.’

‘Buttering me up, Lindsay?’ he asked unpleasantly, and then as though sensing her lack of comprehension he added drily. ‘I’m not used to being waited on these days. Dinner is normally a meal I manage to grab somewhere between ‘phone calls. No doubt in the ordered household you intend to run after your marriage, things will be very different. Why are you marrying him, Lindsay?’

He sounded so derisive that she almost lost her own temper. ‘Because I want to.’ She held his gaze levelly, and then asked softly, ‘What do you expect me to say Lucas? Because we’re madly in love with one another? I can’t pretend to emotions I don’t feel, but I can honestly say that I don’t trust that sort of sexual fascination … it dies … and I don’t believe it to be a good foundation for an enduring marriage …’

‘And you of course, have a vast wealth of experience,’ he mocked her suddenly savage in the way he looked and sounded. His fingers closed painfully around her wrist as he yanked her round so that the light from the window fell sharply across her pale face. ‘Just how often have you experienced sexual desire to be able to talk so knowledgeably about it Lindsay? How often have you been savaged by the sharp teeth of frustration … How often have you lain alone in bed at night, burning up with the need for another human being.’