Pagan Enchantment

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He nodded, as if she could make no other answer. ‘You’ve spoken with your father?’

‘Yes.’

His scowl deepened. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything else but “yes”?’ he snapped tersely.

Merry shrugged. ‘There isn’t anything else to say, you seem to know all the answers.’

He raised his eyes heavenwards. ‘Does that mean you can’t at least make a token show at conversation?’

She flushed at his rebuke. ‘It’s all been said. I’ve spoken to my father, we’ve agreed that it isn’t disloyal to him and my mother if I meet my—your stepmother.’ She bit her lip at the angry flare in his eyes as she corrected herself. Anthea Steele wasn’t her mother, and never could be.

‘Very well,’ Gideon Steele rasped tautly. ‘When do you want to meet her?’ His eyes were narrowed.

‘I—I haven’t really thought about it.’ The decision to see her at all had been hard enough. ‘When do you think …?’

‘There’s no time like the present—–’

‘Not now!’ Merry gasped her protest. ‘Not tonight. It’s ten-thirty!’

‘So late!’ he taunted mockingly. ‘You’ve just admitted that you were on your way out, so it isn’t that late after all. But as it happens, I didn’t have right now in mind. I think tomorrow would be a good time.’

It was all happening too fast, was like a snowball rolling down a hillside, getting bigger and bigger as it went—and it threatened to knock her off her feet when it came to an end!

‘Too soon?’

It was the taunting softness of his voice that brought the spark of rebellion into her glittering green eyes. ‘Of course not,’ she answered lightly. ‘Tomorrow will be fine.’

‘Good,’ he nodded his satisfaction, his expression grim. ‘Do you have a valid passport?’

Merry blinked dazedly. ‘Passport?’ she repeated incredulously, not able to keep up with his lightning change of subjects.

‘Yes. Do you?’ his impatience was barely contained.

She frowned. ‘As it happens, yes. I went to Austria with some friends last year. Why do I need a passport?’

‘Anthea and my father are in the middle of a Mediterranean cruise at this moment. Tomorrow morning I’m on my way to join them for the last two weeks. You may as well come with me and meet Anthea then.’

‘Oh, but—I can’t—That’s ridiculous!’ she protested. ‘I can’t just up and leave tomorrow morning for two weeks!’

‘Why not?’ he queried softly. ‘You aren’t back in work yet, I already checked that out. Your father wouldn’t mind, and you’ve already agreed to meet Anthea. So what’s your problem?’ he raised dark brows over eyes the colour of a storm-tossed sea, supremely confident, not understanding that although he might live the jet-set life that she didn’t. She couldn’t possibly just go off with him tomorrow to heaven alone knew where!

‘You’re the problem,’ she told him heatedly.

‘Expecting me to just up and leave at a moment’s notice for—for—–’

‘Athens,’ he supplied calmly.

‘Athens,’ she repeated pointedly. ‘I can’t just—–’

‘Why not?’ he interrupted.

‘Well, because—I just can’t! I don’t have a seat booked on the plane—–’

‘It’s a private jet.’

‘I’m not booked on the ship—–’

‘It’s family owned, there’s always room for the family—and friends,’ he added with a drawl.

So Vanda had got it wrong, it was shipping the Steele family were involved in—or was it shipping and airlines? He said it was a private jet. Probably both, she thought ruefully.

‘Settled?’ he taunted.

She could think of no further objections to make, and her mouth set in a thin disapproving line.

‘The ship will be an easier place for you and Anthea to become acquainted,’ he continued at her silence. ‘It will be more relaxing for you both.’

‘You think so?’ she said stiffly, knowing that at any other time she would have been thrilled at the idea of a Mediterranean cruise. But not in these circumstances.

His icy blue gaze raked over her. ‘I’m hoping so,’ he said pointedly. ‘On the way over here I also gave the problem of upsetting Anthea some thought.’

‘Yes?’ For some reason she suddenly felt wary.

‘You were right about it being a shock for her to have you suddenly produced before her. That wouldn’t be a good idea. My proposal is that you become my girl-friend for two weeks so that you can get to know each other naturally.’

CHAPTER THREE (#u8ff71d5a-6238-5c12-9663-e91187c7bec7)

‘IT will never work,’ Merry was still protesting at such an idea as they drove to the airport the next morning. Although the very fact that she was seated next to Gideon Steele in the sleek Ferrari proved that her protests were only token ones. She knew it, and so did Gideon Steele.

He quirked one dark brow at her. Today he was dressed casually in tight black denims and a black sweat-shirt. He looked ruggedly self-assured, and acted it too. ‘I’ll admit you’re nothing like the women I usually have in my life,’ he drawled. ‘With one rather obvious disadvantage. Although there are plenty of others I can think of,’ he added dryly.

Merry bristled angrily. ‘Such as?’ she prompted softly.

He stared grimly at the road in front of him, driving with the minimum of effort, relaxed to the point of laziness. ‘You have a fiery temper,’ he told her, just as if he were discussing something as innocuous as the weather. ‘You’re stubborn. And you’re full of resentment towards me still.’

‘And that’s just the minor disadvantages!’ she snapped. ‘What’s the main one?’

He gave a fleeting glance in her direction, seeming to take in everything about her, the long gleaming ebony hair, the light make-up that emphasised her high cheekbones and luminous green eyes, the light green tee-shirt that clung to the bareness of her breasts, the fashionably skin-tight denims, her feet thrust into rope sandals. She looked exactly what she was supposed to look, a girl going on holiday. So why was Gideon Steele looking at her like that?

‘Your youth,’ he stated bluntly, his haughty features appearing as if carved from granite in profile. ‘I’m thirty-four, and I’ve never taken out a twenty-year-old!’

‘Except when you were twenty!’

‘Not even then.’ He ignored her sarcasm, and shrugged. ‘I’ve always preferred women in their thirties, women who know what they want from life, and don’t confuse that wanting with love and romance.’ His derision was obvious.

‘You’re talking about sex,’ Merry stated disgustedly.

‘Yes.’

She looked at him with rebellious green eyes. ‘Maybe you should try looking at this from my point of view,’ she said softly, too softly if he did but realise it.

He didn’t. ‘In what way?’

‘That you have one main disadvantage that I don’t like either.’

‘Oh yes?’ he prompted warily, sensing her challenge now.

‘Yes,’ she gave him a too-sweet smile. ‘With the stupidity of youth,’ she mocked, ‘I happen to believe in love and romance. A middle-aged cynic like you wouldn’t normally appeal to me at all!’

There were several minutes stunned silence after this taunting statement, and Merry found herself holding her breath as she waited for his reaction. Suddenly Gideon began to chuckle, a soft throaty sound that developed into a laugh of pure enjoyment.

‘I forgot one thing in that list of disadvantages,’ he still smiled. ‘You’re blunt to the point of rudeness.’

She shrugged, relieved that he hadn’t exploded at her audacity. ‘So are you.’

He turned to include her in his smile, the devastation of blue eyes crinkled at the corners, laughter lines beside his nose and mouth, his teeth very white against his tanned skin, knocking the breath from her body. ‘Would you like to start again, Meredith?’ he queried softly.

At last her breath returned to her, her lungs seeming to be starved of oxygen as she realised just how lethal this man could be if he ever stopped thinking of her as a child. Although that wasn’t very likely!

‘We could try,’ she answered cagily, not sure it was possible for any woman to be friends with this man. ‘Most people call me Merry,’ she invited.

‘And most people—those that don’t think of me as a middle-aged cynic, that is,’ he mocked, ‘call me Gideon. I’m sure you have a beter idea than me what the others call me?’

‘Yes—I mean, no. Er—no,’ she blushed.

‘Sure?’ he derided.

No, she wasn’t sure! She could think of a hundred names she could call him right at this minute, and she wouldn’t need to repeat herself once! ‘No,’ she lied.

Gideon’s mouth quirked as if he knew of the lie. ‘We got off to a bad start,’ he said quietly. ‘And as we’re somehow related through the marriage of our parents I think we should make an effort to get on together.’ He was completely serious now. ‘Especially if it turns out you do want to get to know Anthea as your mother. Being my girl-friend is a safety valve, for both of you. You know that, don’t you?’

‘I don’t see how,’ she frowned.

‘If you decide you can’t accept Anthea knowing you’re her daughter, really feel you can’t love her, then our romance will just end, with Anthea none the wiser as to your identity.’

She could see that, but she still frowned. ‘You said I look like—like her,’ she reminded him. ‘What if she makes the connection straight away?’

‘She won’t,’ Gideon assured her confidently. ‘Once you were out of that disgusting make-up I looked for a likeness to Anthea. I found it only because I was looking for it. If you’re my girl-friend Anthea wouldn’t even think of the possibility of your being her daughter. She’s given up hope of ever finding you,’ he added huskily.

Merry swallowed hard, feeling Anthea Steele’s despair in Gideon’s concern. ‘Did she look for me?’

‘Once you were sixteen, yes,’ he nodded. ‘And while a child can trace his or her parent, the parent doesn’t really have the same privilege. She gave up her child, the child was happily adopted. And unless you made a claim to meet your real mother then Anthea’s longing to know you would remain unanswered. I’m afraid my own investigations weren’t made as fairly as Anthea’s,’ he told her drily.

No, she could imagine Gideon would have little patience with the rules and regulations in life, would brush them aside if they got in his way—as he had when tracing her.