As a part of her studies at university she had, for a term, attended a series of lectures and drawing classes on the human body, and whilst there had been required to sketch nudes, both male and female, but that experience was still no protection against either the images which inexplicably filled her thoughts or the guilty burn of colour which accompanied them.
What on earth was she doing, mentally envisaging Brough posing, modelling for a classical Greek statue? That kind of behaviour, those kinds of thoughts, simply were not her.
‘It’s this way,’ Brough informed her, the cool, clipped sound of his voice breaking into the dangerous heat of her thoughts as he indicated one of the doorways off the hall.
The yellow paint in which the hallway was decorated made Kelly do a slight double-take, a fact which Brough obviously noticed because he commented dryly, ‘Bilious, isn’t it? Unfortunately its shock effect doesn’t lessen with time.’
‘You could always redecorate,’ Kelly pointed out austerely, refusing to allow herself to feel any sympathy with him, even in the unfortunate colour of his walls.
‘Not really. This house is only rented. I’m only living here until the one I’ve bought has been renovated.’
‘Oh, so you’ve moved into the area permanently, then?’
Kelly berated herself furiously as the question slipped out, her curiosity getting the better of her, but to her relief Brough made totally the wrong connection between her question and its motivation as he responded even more dryly, ‘Yes, we have, so I’m afraid you can’t look to our removal from town as an easy way of removing my sister from your lover’s life.’
‘It isn’t necessary for me to do any such thing,’ Kelly denied furiously through gritted teeth, momentarily forgetting her allotted role.
‘Eve believes he intends to marry her. How do you feel about that?’ he challenged her.
‘How do you feel about it?’ Kelly sidetracked.
‘He’s a liar and a cheat and most probably guilty of financial fraud as well,’ Brough told her bitingly. ‘How the hell do you think I feel about it?’
‘She’s your sister.’
‘Strange,’ he continued softly, ‘you don’t look particularly surprised—or shocked. Perhaps you like the idea of having a married lover, especially one whose wife is both extremely rich and extremely in love.’
‘No. That’s not …’
Immediately she realised what she was saying, Kelly stopped.
‘That’s not what?’ Brough goaded her. ‘Not what you want? He’s your lover …’
‘And Eve is your sister,’ Kelly pointed out again quickly. ‘My relationship with Julian is no one’s business other than our own. If you dislike him so much, disapprove of him so much, why haven’t you told Eve so?’
‘She’s too much in love to listen to me or to anyone else. What is it you see in him? What possible attraction can he have for any woman when he …?’
‘Why don’t you ask Eve?’ Kelly suggested.
Ridiculously, dangerously, she was actually starting to feel sorry for him. It was plain how worried he was about his sister, and with good reason, and it was equally plain that he felt helpless to do anything to alter the situation. Even so, she couldn’t resist punishing him just a little, both for what he thought about her and what he had said … and done …
‘It’s obviously hard for a man to see just what it is about Julian that appeals to our sex. Perhaps you feel jealous of him.’
‘Jealous …? Look, just because last night I kissed you, that doesn’t mean—’
‘I mean jealous because Eve loves him,’ Kelly interrupted him shakily.
‘You wanted me to look at this plate,’ she reminded him, anxious to return their conversation to a much more businesslike footing.
‘Yes. It’s in here,’ he told her, ushering her into a large, high-ceilinged room which was painted a particularly unpleasant shade of dull green.
‘Hideous, isn’t it?’ he agreed, correctly interpreting her thoughts. ‘The owner must be colour blind—or worse. You should see the bedrooms; the one I’m occupying is painted a particularly repulsive shade of puce.’
‘Puce …? I don’t believe you,’ Kelly protested. ‘No one would paint a bedroom that colour.’
‘If you want to see for yourself I’ll show you afterwards …’ Brough started to say, and then stopped to study Kelly’s bright pink face with interest.
‘Now there’s an interesting conundrum,’ he mused sardonically. ‘Why should a woman who openly admits that she is sleeping with another woman’s boyfriend blush at the mere mention of a completely altruistic visit to another man’s bedroom? It was my bedroom I was suggesting you view,’ he added gently, ‘not my bed …’
‘I was not blushing,’ Kelly protested. ‘It’s just … it’s just … it’s very warm in here …’
‘Is it?’ Brough asked, adding, ‘Then what, may I ask, are these?’
Before she could stop him he was running a hard fingertip down the full length of her bare arm, right over the rash of goose bumps which had lifted beneath her skin when they’d entered the room’s unheated atmosphere. And what made it worse was that the brief and totally sexless stroke of his finger had made the goose bumps even more prominent—and not just her goose bumps, she acknowledged, mortified by the unwanted discovery that her nipples were inexplicably pressing very hard, tightly aroused, against the constraining fabric of her bra.
Instinctively she turned away from him, lifting her arm in what she hoped was a natural and subtle gesture which he wouldn’t guess was designed to conceal the evidence of her body’s extraordinary behaviour from him.
He had seen it, though, seen it and been both disgusted and angered by it, she recognised, if the look she could see in his eyes was anything to go by.
My God, but she had got it badly if even the mere fact of talking about Cox could arouse her body like that, Brough fumed as Kelly turned her flushed face and aroused breasts out of his eye-line.
It had been bad enough when he had simply wanted to protect and rescue his sister from the man, but now …
‘The plate’s over here,’ he told Kelly curtly.
Silently she followed him, keeping her distance from him as he unlocked the small corner cupboard and removed the plate, but as he walked over to her and she saw it she couldn’t resist giving a small cry of pleasure, closing the distance between them so that she could take the plate from him and study it more closely.
‘Oh, it’s beautiful,’ she enthused as she traced the design lovingly with her fingertip. ‘Almost Sèvres in style and execution …’
‘Yes, that’s what they said at the factory. They suspect that the whole set might have been a showpiece set made by a particularly gifted apprentice. Apparently, when they finished their time in apprenticeship the artists were often given the opportunity to do something to act as a showcase for their skills.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Kelly agreed absently, barely able to take her glance off the plate. ‘Oh, it’s lovely—so detailed and intricate.’
She stopped and shook her head.
‘What’s wrong? Don’t you think you can copy it?’ Brough asked her.
Kelly paused.
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘It’s very complex, and the gold leaf work alone would