‘In my book,’ he ground out, ‘a man—an older, married man—who seduces a young girl—scarcely more than a schoolgirl—who is living under his own roof is…’ He tilted his chin to one side as if considering the problem. ‘Responsible,’ he drawled, his eyes shooting smoky fire. ‘I’d say that about covers it. He’s a lot of other things too,’ he lashed from between clenched teeth. ‘But I won’t offend your delicate sensibilities by listing them. Only your feelings aren’t too delicate where he is concerned, are they? The bastard was all over you.
‘How are you going to explain her father’s miraculous resurrection to Charlie? He gets a ready-made family—convenient, to comfort him in his declining years. And they’re not too far away,’ he added viciously. ‘You really do have a thing about older men, don’t you? You’ve got to admire the man,’ he drawled, betraying no sign of that particular emotion. ‘He really does seize the opportunity.’
Too late she realised that Christophe hadn’t been the only one to notice the family resemblance. Whilst Christophe didn’t resemble Raoul in any other way they did share the same distinctive blue eyes—Charlie’s eyes. She’d been so distracted by his unexpected appearance, she hadn’t realised that Ben had seemed unusually withdrawn and quiet on the way home. All the signs had been there—how could she have been so blind?
‘Ben,’ she said urgently.
‘I never had you pegged as gullible, Rachel.’ Obviously listening wasn’t high on his list of priorities. He had a lot to say, though, and the delay in getting it out of his system hadn’t helped any. ‘God, woman, you’re not a green nineteen-year-old now. What is it about this guy that sends your judgement haywire? You’ve been suspicious enough of me. You continually endow my most innocent action with sinister motives.’ Jaw taut, he shook his head disbelievingly. ‘I suppose if he asks you to go to France with him…’
‘He already has.’ She knew now what she had to do.
It might break her heart, but using his misinterpretation of the situation might be the simplest—no, only way she was going to get Benedict Arden out of her life, and get him out for Charlie’s sake she must. Her admission had stopped him dead; it had hurt too, she could see that. Even if his pain could be attributed solely to hurt pride it still made her want to explain.
‘He doesn’t waste much time,’ he said slowly, breaking the stunned silence that had followed her words. ‘And you said— No, don’t bother telling me; it’s obvious what you said.’ He picked his jacket up from the back of the sofa and flung it over his shoulder. ‘You may think you’re mistress material, Rachel, but you’re not.’
Suddenly she couldn’t bear to let him go away thinking… ‘Ben,’ she said urgently, ‘it’s not the way it seems.’
‘Men like that don’t change, Rachel. Women just like to think they’re the one who will break the pattern.’
His words stopped her in her tracks. ‘You should know,’ she agreed. Could he really not see the irony of his warning?
‘Sure, I’ve seduced women and been seduced in my turn, but I’ve never destroyed anyone—I’m not a user. He’ll break your heart, Rachel—he’s done it before—and who’s going to pick up the pieces?’
‘Not you; you won’t be here.’ You’re the one breaking my heart, you stupid, stupid man, she wanted to scream.
‘But I’m here now.’ A thoughtful expression she didn’t trust entered his eyes. The way his glance moved suggestively over her body was an insult. Insults didn’t usually have this effect on her body, though. His smile was hatefully knowing as she raised her crossed arms to cover her tingling breasts which were only covered by a thin layer of silk. ‘He’s not.’
‘I wish you weren’t,’ she responded with feeling.
‘You weren’t so anxious to get rid of me before the blast from the past reappeared.’
‘You make it sound as though I laid down the red carpet. The way I recall it you’ve conned your way in here each and every time. Never use the truth when a lie will get you where you want to be,’ she sneered.
It hit her forcibly that she’d just given a fairly accurate description of her own behaviour in enforcing Ben’s belief that Christophe was Charlie’s father. If he wondered why she suddenly subsided, blushing guiltily, he didn’t ask.
‘Where I want to be,’ he mused slowly.