“Goodness you ought to set yourself up in the detective business.” She kept her voice low in case anyone was watching. They were.
“Come on, all I’m suggesting is you tell me a little more about yourself.”
“You won’t find my face in a rogue’s gallery if that’s what you’re thinking.” She stared back at him.
“How about an art gallery?” he suggested. “Your style of looks is incredibly romantic. In fact they ought to name a flower after you.”
“No artist has offered to paint me so far,” she told him. “What exactly is it you suspect me of, Mr. Kinross?”
Her face was still flushed, her eyes as lustrous as silver. “You’re angry with me and quite rightly.” He dropped his hand off the rail and stood straight. Another foot and their bodies would be brushing.
“I think so.”
“But from where I’m standing I think you might be trying to steal my father’s heart.”
She felt so affronted she tossed her silky mane in the air. “Part of it might be because you’re screwed up.”
He stared back at her for a moment then threw back his handsome head and gave a genuine peal of laughter. A warm seductive sound. “I’m not hearing this,” he groaned. “You think I’m screwed up.”
“It must be a very heavy load to carry,” she said without sympathy.
He laughed again, white teeth dazzling against dark copper skin. “Actually you might be right.”
“We’ve all got our hang-ups to disengage,” she pointed out with clinical cool.
“I can hardly wait to hears yours.”
“You’re not going to hear them, Mr. Kinross.”
“Pleez,” he mocked. “If we’re going to have these conversations you’d better call me Brod.”
It was a mystery to her she was keeping her cool. “Thank you for that. I’d love it if you called me Rebecca. All I’m asking, Brod, is you give me the benefit of the doubt before starting to label me ‘adventuress.’ From what I’ve seen, your father is perfectly charming to women in general.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” he answered, his voice dangerously gentle. “Charming, yes. Possessive, no.”
“Is that how you read it?” She kept the worry out of her tone.
“Most women can’t resist being the object of desire.”
She felt as if they were engaged in some ritual dance, circling, circling. “That’s something I know nothing about.” She’d been determined to play it cool but her simmering temper was making her eyes sparkle.
“Quite impossible, Rebecca.” His lips curved. “If you put on your dowdiest dress and cut off that waterfall of hair, men would still want you.”
She had the disturbing sensation he had reached out and touched her, run his fingers over her skin. “I don’t think you’ve reckoned on whether I want them,” she answered, too sharply, as her heart did a double take.
His blue eyes filled with amused mockery. “Now where is this leading us?”
“Probably nowhere.” She managed a shrug. “The whole conversation was your idea.”
“Only because I’m trying to learn as much about you as I can.” He realised he was getting an undeniable charge out of what amounted to their confrontation. It was like being exposed to live wires.
“I’m thoroughly aware of that,” Rebecca said, “but I do hope you’re not going to start checking on me. I might have to mention it to your father.”
Ah, an admission of power. Why had he ever had one minute’s doubt? His eyes narrowed, lean body tensing. “I’ll be damned, a threat.”
She shook her head. “No threat at all. I’m not going to allow you to spoil things for me, that’s all.”
“I can do that by checking you out?”
“That’s not what I meant at all.” Her voice went very quiet. “I’m here in one capacity only. To write your aunt’s biography. Both of us want it done. It’s a pity you’ve made up your mind I’ve more on the agenda. It’s almost like you’re waging war.”
“Isn’t it,” he agreed.
“Perhaps you’ve got nothing to win.” She threw out the challenge, suddenly wanting to hurt him as he was hurting her.
“Well we can’t say the same for you then.”
The sapphire eyes gleamed.
Both of them were so involved in the cut and thrust, neither noticed Stewart Kinross approach until he was only a few yards away. “I was trying to make out what you two were talking about?” He smiled, though it never quite reached his eyes.
“Why don’t I let Rebecca tell you,” Brod drawled.
“Clearly it was something serious,” his father said. “Everybody else seems to be laughing and relaxed.”
“Brod was taking me through the technicalities of the match.” Rebecca was worried her voice might tremble but it didn’t. It sounded very normal. “I’m hoping to understand the game better.”
“But, my dear, I could have explained all that,” Stewart Kinross assured her warmly. “Sure it wasn’t something more interesting?”
Rebecca twisted round to look at Brod. “Nothing except a few words about my work.”
“I’m sure it will be so good you’ll have people dying to read it,” Brod said suavely. “Ah well, I’d better circulate. Some of my friends I haven’t seen for a long time.”
This caused Stewart to frown. “You can see them anytime you want to, Brod.”
“I guess I’m too damned busy, Dad. Especially since you promoted me. See you later, Rebecca.” He lifted a hand, moving off before his father could say another word.
Stewart Kinross’s skin reddened. “I must apologise for my son, Rebecca,” he rasped.
“Whatever for?” She was anxious not to become involved.
“His manner,” Stewart replied. “It worries me sometimes. I’ve had to deal with a lot of rivalry from Brod.”
“I suppose it’s not that unusual,” Rebecca tried to soothe. “powerful father, powerful son. It must make for clashes from time to time.”
“None of them, I assure you, initiated by me,” Stewart protested. “Brod takes after my father. He was combative by nature.”
“And generally regarded as a great man?” Rebecca murmured gently just to let him know she had read up extensively on Sir Andrew Kinross and liked what she had learned.
“Yes, there’s that,” Stewart agreed a little grudgingly. “He positively doted on Fee. Denied her nothing that’s why she’s so terribly spoiled. But he expected a great deal of me. Anyway, enough of that. What I really wanted to know is did you enjoy the day? I organised the whole thing for you.”
“I realise that, Stewart. It’s something I’ll always remember.” Rebecca tasted a certain bitterness on her tongue. Remember? But for wrong reasons. Most of the time her eyes had been glued to Broderick Kinross’s dashing figure. She could still feel the rush of adrenaline through her body.
“You know, sometimes I get the feeling I’ve known you forever,” Stewart Kinross announced, resting a hand on her shoulder and staring down into her eyes. “Don’t you get that feeling, too?”
What on earth do I say? Rebecca thought, suffused with embarrassment.