She swallowed hard, mesmerised by his darkly powerful face. ‘I am?’ she said breathlessly, completely unable to move away from the caress of his hand.
‘You are,’ he nodded, his gaze locked with hers.
She moistened suddenly dry lips—instantly stopping the action when she saw how his gaze darkened at the movement. ‘Why?’
He gave a half-smile, slightly self-derisive. ‘You’ve been a problem for me since the moment I first saw you at the store in that ridiculous bunny girl costume!’ He shook his head at the memory.
Silke still cringed at the thought of that day. ‘I can’t go on apologising for that mistake for the rest of my life—’
‘I wasn’t asking you to apologise,’ Lyon dismissed lightly. ‘I don’t think you—’
‘Am I interrupting something?’
Silke spun round self-consciously at the sound of Henry’s voice, realising as she saw the speculation in curious grey eyes how damning the situation must look with Lyon and herself standing close together like this, Lyon’s hand still resting against her cheek, a cheek now grown even warmer in her feeling of awkwardness.
‘I thought I might join the two of you for a swim,’ Henry continued drily, holding up his towel as proof of his claim. ‘But I can see I’ll just be in the way,’ he added with some amusement.
It was totally the wrong thing for him to say as far as Silke was concerned. After what he had done last week, how dared he come in here talking in that indulgently patronising tone, implying—well, just implying! The last thing she wanted was for Henry to get the wrong impression about Lyon and herself; she would never hear the end of it, from either Henry or her mother.
She moved pointedly away from Lyon, deliberately not looking at him now either, although she could sense his gaze on her. She glared at Henry. ‘You aren’t in the way at all, Henry,’ she bit out tautly. ‘In fact, you’re just the person I wanted to see!’
‘Oh, dear,’ he grimaced, frowning. ‘I recognise that light of battle in your eyes, Silke; you look just the way your mother did at eighteen.’
‘I probably feel the same way my mother did at eighteen!’ she snapped impatiently. ‘You undoubtedly walked all over her feelings too!’
Henry’s frown deepened. ‘What have I done now?’
‘I should take care if I were you, Henry,’ Lyon drawled, stepping back—as if he were about to stand back and enjoy watching the show. ‘You’re standing on very shaky ground. And, actually, in this case, I happen to agree with Silke,’ he added seriously.
She looked at him in surprise. ‘You do?’
His mouth quirked with humour. ‘I do,’ he confirmed drily.
She gave him a frustrated glare before turning away to look at Henry again, the anger still in her face. ‘You and Mummy had no right to take my designs out of my flat—’
‘Ah,’ Henry gave a guilty grimace. ‘But Silke, we were only thinking of you,’ he added in a cajoling tone. ‘Your designs are brilliant; I don’t know why someone hasn’t snapped them up years ago. And—’
‘Stop the flattery, Henry,’ she cut in forcefully. ‘You had no right doing what you did without my permission!’ Her eyes flashed deeply green.
‘It’s probably a criminal offence,’ Lyon put in softly.
It was his uncle’s turn to glare now. ‘You stay out of this, Lyon,’ Henry snapped.
‘Just pointing out a relevant fact,’ Lyon shrugged, the amusement still in his eyes.
‘Just enjoying yourself, you mean,’ his uncle accused in a disgruntled voice.
Lyon gave another dismissive shrug, moving to sit on one of the loungers. ‘Don’t mind me,’ he invited lightly, looking up at the two of them as Silke and Henry faced each other across the pool like adversaries.
Which, as far as Silke was concerned, at this moment, they were. But, nevertheless, she had no intention of putting on a show for Lyon. No matter how angry she was with Henry!
‘I have no intention of even discussing this further,’ she bit out tautly, that angry flush still in her cheeks. ‘I think what you and Mummy did was despicable,’ she told Henry with feeling.
‘I agree,’ Lyon put in softly.
‘And as for you—’ Silke turned on him furiously ‘—I don’t even want to hear the offer you were going to make me! We both know it actually has nothing to do with my designs, and neither of us owes the other anything just because of what happened between us last week.’ She was breathing hard in her deep agitation.
What Lyon was doing was tantamount to ‘payment for services rendered’—an obligation he felt because of her innocence before that night!
‘What happened between the two of you last week?’ Henry put in curiously.
Silke looked at him with stricken eyes, realising exactly what she had done; Henry was nothing if not determined, and she doubted he would let this go now that he sensed there was more to Silke’s relationship to Lyon than either he or her mother could have possibly guessed. But that was Lyon’s problem. She was getting out of here, as far away from these two men as possible!
But before she could make a move, Lyon spoke. ‘Mind your own business,’ he told the older man coldly.
‘But—’
‘Stay out of this, Henry.’ Lyon stood up, turning to Silke now, the coldness leaving his expression. ‘Silke, we—’
‘There isn’t a “we”,’ she told him heatedly. ‘Not a business “we”, and certainly not a personal one! Just leave me alone!’
‘Silke—’
‘I said leave me alone, Lyon,’ she bit out vehemently, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. ‘Just stay away from me. Both of you!’ she warned before turning and running from the poolside.
And she wanted to keep on running and never stop!
‘HELLO, Silke.’
‘Go away, Lyon.’ She closed the door back in his face, wishing she had never opened it in the first place; she should have guessed who it was ringing her doorbell! She had only returned from Henry’s house just over an hour ago; she should have realised that Lyon’s arrogance wouldn’t allow him to be dismissed in the angry way she had done.
But Lyon moved quicker than she did, putting his foot inside the door, making it impossible for her to completely close it, a determined expression on his face.
Silke stood her ground, keeping the door closed as far as it would go. ‘I said go away, Lyon,’ she told him forcefully.
He met her gaze steadily, his expression grim now. ‘I want to talk to you,’ he bit out harshly.
Her head went back defensively. ‘And it must be obvious that I have nothing to say to you.’
Lyon shook his head. ‘We have a lot to say to each other.’
‘I don’t think so,’ she bit out tersely.
‘Silke—’
‘Please go, Lyon,’ she said, more desperately this time; if he didn’t go away soon she was going to cry.
She had left Henry’s house earlier as if the devil were on her heels, had just wanted to get away from both men. And she didn’t