‘Don’t worry about me, Darius,’ Andy hastened to reassure him, not wanting him to feel as if he had to contact her, be with her, again. ‘Just concentrate on sorting out your relationship with Xander and your mother.’
He grimaced. ‘It sounds pretty messed up, hmm?’
‘It sounds...complicated. But if anyone can resolve it, you can,’ she added reassuringly.
‘I admire your confidence in my abilities—’ he smiled bleakly ‘—but it sounds as if I should have done that years ago.’
Andy squeezed his arm. ‘Then you’ll do it now.’
Darius looked down at her. ‘You really believe that, don’t you?’
She smiled. ‘You’re Darius Sterne. Of course I believe it.’
He took both of her hands in his much larger ones. ‘And you’re Miranda Jacobs. And you should dance again.’
‘What?’ Andy gave him a frowning glance.
‘You should dance at my mother’s gala, Miranda,’ he told her gruffly.
She swallowed. ‘I don’t think...’ She gave a slightly dazed shake of her head. ‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Good.’ He gave her hands a squeeze before releasing them and stepping back. ‘I’ll call you later,’ he promised.
* * *
‘Mother, I wanted to talk to you about— Miranda?’
Andy had given a start at the unexpected sound of Darius’s voice, her hands starting to shake and causing the fine china teacup to rattle in its saucer, as she turned to look at him across Catherine Latimer’s elegantly decorated blue and cream drawing room.
It had been five days since Sunday night when Darius had called her and reassured her that the doctors had said that Xander would eventually make a full recovery.
Since then there had been only silence between them.
And it wasn’t too difficult to guess why.
Andy had known at the time that Darius wouldn’t thank her for overhearing that conversation between himself and Xander.
Although she doubted that was the only reason for Darius’s silence.
The two of them had made love last Sunday, and the fact that Darius hadn’t contacted her since seemed to indicate he now regretted it. As Andy had suspected he might. He might have desired her, wanted to make love to her, but she really wasn’t his type.
Looking at Darius now, dressed in one of those exquisite business suits he habitually wore, made it hard for Andy to believe he was the same man who had made love to her the previous weekend.
Difficult, but not impossible, as the heated awareness now suffusing Andy’s body testified!
Caught up now, as she was, in the direct glow of his eyes, Andy couldn’t have answered his question at that moment if her life had depended upon it.
Darius strolled further into the drawing room, his narrowed gaze fixed firmly on her. ‘Miranda?’ he repeated huskily.
Andy carefully placed her teacup down on the coffee table before standing up, her legs trembling as she did so. Seeing Darius again so unexpectedly had thrown her completely.
She was relieved she had at least worn a formal pale green blouse, tucked into tailored black trousers, for this arranged meeting today with Catherine Latimer. Her hair was also newly washed and styled, so she could at least meet Darius on an equal footing in regard to her appearance.
She turned to smile reassuringly at the older woman. ‘I think we’ve said all we need to say for today, Catherine, so I’ll leave you alone to talk with your son now.’
Pleasure shone in the older woman’s eyes. ‘I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you’ve changed your mind.’
Darius might now regret their intimacies of the previous weekend, but that didn’t mean that Andy hadn’t listened to him at the hospital when he had suggested she should dance at the gala his mother was organising. Especially when he had been so confident that she could.
Determined not to dwell on thoughts of Darius, of what he meant to her, Andy had instead agonised about whether or not she could dance again in public. Was she was emotionally strong enough to do so, as well as physically?
Darius’s confidence in her had been the deciding factor in all that agonising. He believed in her. Believed she could do it.
Her visit to Catherine Latimer today, to accept her invitation to dance at the gala, was the result of all that agonising.
Although she didn’t think now was the time for her to talk about that decision with Darius.
Andy glanced across at the glowering Darius. ‘I really do have to go now. No, please don’t bother to call the butler,’ she added hastily as Catherine would have summoned the middle-aged retainer who had shown her into the drawing room earlier. ‘It’s a nice day, so I didn’t bring a coat, and I can find my own way out.’
Darius was still so stunned at finding Miranda here that he was only half listening to the conversation between his mother and his—wait, what exactly was Miranda to him? His lover? Because there was no doubt in his mind, despite the fact that he deliberately hadn’t seen or spoken to her since last Sunday, that that was exactly what she was.
And she had been positively the last person he had been expecting to see when he’d called to see his mother this morning!
So much so that he couldn’t even think of the words to now stop Miranda from leaving as she moved quietly past him before exiting the drawing room and stepping out into the hallway.
Andy gratefully breathed the fresh spring air into her lungs once she stood on the top step outside the house, leaning back gratefully on the front door of the Latimers’ London home, her knees feeling suddenly weak.
Despite her hopes that Darius and his mother had healed the long-held rift between them, Darius had still been the last person Andy had expected to see today.
It was a shock that had so obviously been mutual. Darius had looked as stunned to see her as she was to—
Andy almost fell backwards into the house as the front door was wrenched open behind her, and she fought to retain her balance even as she turned to face Darius.
She instantly raised her chin defensively. ‘I know how strange this must look to you, but I assure you my visit to your mother this morning has absolutely nothing to do with you.’
Darius smiled as a five-day-long heaviness seemed to lift from his chest. ‘I never for a moment assumed that it did.’
‘No?’ There was still that challenging spark in her eyes.
Darius tilted his head. ‘Are you angry with me?’
Andy opened her mouth, and then closed it again, as she realised she was angry. And hurt.
This man had made love to her last Sunday, and apart from a brief—very brief—telephone call late on Sunday evening Andy hadn’t heard another word from him since. About anything.
The newspapers had been full of the story of Xander Sterne’s car accident this past week, describing his injuries as extensive. Obviously the press were prone to exaggeration, but when Andy had enquired after Xander this morning Catherine Latimer had assured her that Xander would only be in the private clinic for a few more days.
But Andy knew it wasn’t Darius’s silence regarding his brother that hurt her.
She had known after their lovemaking on Sunday that she would never mean anything more to Darius than those