Sally could feel herself colouring up. ‘I barely know him.’
‘Which,’ Greg said drily, ‘hardly answers the question.’
‘All right,’ Sally conceded. Greg had always been shrewd and there was no point in trying to deceive him. ‘I admit that there was something between us, but it was based on a misunderstanding. That’s all.’
She felt his thoughtful gaze on her face. ‘If he hurt you—’ he began.
‘He didn’t,’ Sally said quickly. She could not bear to expose her feelings, even to Greg. She gave him a rueful smile. ‘Bless you, Greg, for always standing as the brother I never had.’
Greg pulled a face. ‘Not the relationship that I want with you, Sally, as you know.’ He answered her smile with an equally rueful one of his own. ‘You have always seen me as a brother and I have never seen you as a sister. That’s the tragedy.’
Sally was silent. She knew that was the nub of the matter. It had been so tempting to run away with Greg when she had been desperately unhappy with Jonathan, but even in the depths of her misery she had known she would have been selling Greg short because she was not in love with him. To take his love and use it for her own ends seemed shabby then and it would be shabby now.
‘Your reputation suggests you do not pine for me,’ she said lightly.
‘My reputation,’ Greg said feelingly, ‘was gained as a result of my attempts to forget you!’
‘Don’t try to pin that on me,’ Sally said warmly. ‘I was not responsible for turning you into a rake and a gambler. And if you say that I could have saved you, I will box your ears!’
‘You could have saved me,’ Greg said, with a straight face. He sighed. ‘I know that you never needed me,’ he added, his blue gaze steady on her face. ‘I understand that.’
‘I do need you,’ Sally said. ‘I need you as a friend.’ Fleetingly she thought of the two hundred pounds that she had sent to Nell. If only she had asked Greg to give her a loan, not Jack. But then she had always been damnably independent. It was one of her besetting sins. She would not have wanted to go cap in hand to Greg and ask for money. She had only thrown the request for two hundred pounds in Jack’s face because he had incensed her.
‘That must be the kiss of death on a romance,’ Greg said cheerfully, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. ‘Come along. Time to dress for dinner.’
A shadow fell across them and Sally put up a hand to shade her eyes from the low afternoon sun. It was inevitable, she thought, that Jack should be standing there with a face like thunder as he took in the sight of her hand clasped once again in that of Gregory Holt’s.
‘Hello, Jack, old man,’ Greg said easily, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth as he registered Jack’s stony expression, ‘your lovely fiancée and I were just discussing romance.’
‘I see,’ Jack said coldly. He turned pointedly to Sally. ‘Charley sent me to show you around the place,’ he said, ‘but it seems that you are already quite at home.’
‘Sally is certainly among friends,’ Greg said, and Sally felt the unspoken but unmistakable threat in his words and saw Jack square up to the challenge.
‘Excuse me,’ she said hastily to Greg, freeing her hand from his and slipping past both men. ‘I shall go and prepare for dinner.’ And she walked away without a backwards glance to either of them. Let them sort out their differences without her. She could already feel the unresolved tension in Jack that could surely escalate into violence with one deliberately careless word from Greg. And it made no sense to her at all, for how could Jack be so possessive when she was no more than his temporary fiancée and he certainly did not love her?
Chapter Six
Jack fiddled irritably with his cufflinks whilst the long-suffering valet he had borrowed from his brother-in-law put the final touches to his wing collar.
‘If you could just keep still a moment longer, sir,’ the man said resignedly. Jack sighed and tried not to tap his foot. The dinner suit, shirt and tie were all borrowed as well as the servant. It was fortunate that he and Stephen were of a height. He was a little broader across the shoulder and could feel the material straining a little, but it was not a bad fit. He hoped he did not split the jacket. It was no wonder his brother-in-law had given him a tuxedo rather than his best tailcoat to wear, but he thought that Lady Ottoline would probably cut up rough when she saw that he was not in formal evening dress.
He wondered what Charley would find for Sally to wear to dinner. Whatever it was, it would not be able to eclipse that luscious pink gown she had worn two nights before. He rubbed a hand across his forehead. He felt a sudden, bitter flash of emotion that their previous nights together had been so different. He had thought her honest then. Now all that was left was the devastating passion that had flared between them.
And for tonight, at least, she was also his fiancée. A smile that was more satisfied than rueful lifted his mouth. He liked the idea of being engaged to Sally very much, far more than he had expected when he had made the impulsive announcement. He knew it was a gesture of somewhat primitive possession. Her sexual capitulation to him had the unforeseen consequence of making him want to claim her formally and show her to be his own. He realised that his need for her had been one of the reasons why he had been so angry with her for her duplicity. His feelings were engaged—desire and wanting, if not love—and so her betrayal was so much more acute.
His previous affairs had had the reverse effect on him to this; all he had wanted to do was walk away from them. Now he was determined not to let Sally walk away from him until he was ready to let her go. He acknowledged that it was a very basic reaction. He had wanted Sally from the very first and now he wanted everyone else to know she belonged to him, especially Gregory Holt, who had made his interest in her so plain.
‘There you are, sir,’ the valet said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. ‘Not bad, if I say so myself.’
‘Thank you, Jeavons,’ Jack said.
As he emerged from his bedchamber he saw his sister and Sally descending the stairs in front of him. Charley had evidently gone to fetch Sally from her bedroom and take her down to dinner in case she was nervous. Jack shook his head cynically over Charley’s naïvety. Could she not see that Sally Bowes was supremely capable of taking care of herself? But perhaps not—after all, he had made a serious error of judgement about Sally himself.
He hurried down the stairs to catch up with them and as they reached the hallway Sally turned towards him.
He stopped dead.
She looked utterly divine.
Tonight Sally was wearing a gown the colour of rich autumn leaves, with layers of taffeta and silk chiffon embroidered with tiny little sequins around the square neck. Charley had lent her a ruby drop necklace and it glowed richly in the hollow of Sally’s throat, a vivid counterpoint to the creamy pallor of her skin.
And she rustled. Whenever she moved, the layers of petticoats beneath the taffeta and chiffon whispered together sensuously, setting all of Jack’s senses on edge. He could imagine the ruffles and lace beneath the sparkling gown and Sally’s warm, smooth skin beneath that.
He seriously considered carrying her straight back up the stairs and into the nearest bedroom.
‘Are you quite well, Jack?’ Charley enquired, laughing. ‘I have never seen you struck dumb before.’
‘I … ah …’ Jack pulled himself together quickly.
‘Sally has been explaining to me that the two of you are always at odds, so I have put you at opposite ends of the table,’ Charley said, fixing him with a blithe smile. ‘Aunt Otto asked particularly that she should be placed next to you, Jack. I believe she wishes to check on your moral fortitude and suitability for marriage.’