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Authors: Amanda Carpenter
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listening for some time, face quiet,
without a smile.
She was shocked, immensely so, and feeling vulnerable. But Emory
was talking then, and she had to drag her eyes back to him. 'You've
made me feel tremendously better,' he told her, gratitude sincere in
his eyes. 'I think I'll go upstairs to shower and change. Maybe if I can
bring myself to it, I'll talk to Petra later today.'
Caprice touched him again, lightly. 'Let me know what happens.'
He stood, and bent to press a kiss to her cheek. 'Thank you. I will.'
Then he turned to the doorway, and she was able to risk another
glance in that direction. It was empty, for Pierce was already gone.
Or at least she'd thought he was gone. When she followed Emory into
the hall, feeling an absurd relief that Pierce had had enough
sensibility to make himself scarce, she found that he had merely
backed up in the hall and was walking towards them again, as if
having just come down the stairs.
Emory saw him first and said to the older man, 'Oh, good morning,
Pierce. Nice day.' He turned to Caprice, and his expression softened.
She gave him a small smile back, and he touched at her arm before
running up the stairs to his room.
Pierce and she were left looking at each other, silently;' He was in
deep burgundy red slacks, with the cream cardigan she'd borrowed
yesterday over a pale rose shirt. In it he appeared darker than ever,
and for the second time she noticed the beginning of lines which
were carving themselves on either side of his thin nostrils.
'Oh,' she said, deliberately offhand, eyes wary and pebble flat. 'Good
morning, Pierce.' She turned to walk away.
He fell into step beside her, a slight smile beginning at the corners of
his mouth. 'Nice day. Running away again?'
She lurched to a stop, and refused to look at him as she said between
set teeth, 'What do you want?'
She felt, rather than saw him shrug. 'Did I say I wanted anything?' he
asked, limpidly. Then, as she refused to look at him, he said quite
seriously, 'I didn't mean to overhear. You were obviously sharing
something confidential with Emory.'
'You made no quick effort to get away, I noticed,' she said, with a
snap. They entered the dining room, which was empty.
'I'm only human.' That, with another careless shrug.
A quick turn of her head, and she stared at him. 'What does that
mean?'
He went to the other end of the dining room, pushed open a dark
panelled swinging door, and said cheerfully, 'Good morning, Mrs
Vandusen. Would coffee for two be any trouble this early? Thanks.'
Feeling left on a dangling end, she wandered around the table,
touching chairs lightly with her hand. If she'd thought she could get
away with it, she would leave him right then and there, but that, even
for her, would be too appallingly rude. No, that's not true, she
realised, as soon as she'd thought it. She felt a curious desire to thrash
out the rest of the conversation with him.
He turned back, neatly. She knew, suddenly, that he wouldn't answer
her question. People always had a limit to how far they would open,
in social circumstances. God knows, she certainly did.
'I meant,' he said quietly, strolling to the table, 'that I had come to the
doorway at a very enlightening moment and, since I wanted to hear
more, I waited.' His eyes met, and held hers, dark diamond bright.
'No excuse.'
He drew out a chair for her courteously, large, slim hands curling
around the edges of its back, and hers were the eyes to fall first. She
sat, head bowed, and he then took a seat directly to her left, just
around the corner of the end of the table, his knee brushing hers. She
was intensely aware of him so close, and held herself tight because of
it.
'Here you are!' said Mrs Vandusen smilingly, as she backed through
the swinging door, laden with a tray. 'Shall I set it on the sideboard,
or would you like it on the table?'
'The table's fine, thank you,' replied Pierce, and the housekeeper set
down the
without a smile.
She was shocked, immensely so, and feeling vulnerable. But Emory
was talking then, and she had to drag her eyes back to him. 'You've
made me feel tremendously better,' he told her, gratitude sincere in
his eyes. 'I think I'll go upstairs to shower and change. Maybe if I can
bring myself to it, I'll talk to Petra later today.'
Caprice touched him again, lightly. 'Let me know what happens.'
He stood, and bent to press a kiss to her cheek. 'Thank you. I will.'
Then he turned to the doorway, and she was able to risk another
glance in that direction. It was empty, for Pierce was already gone.
Or at least she'd thought he was gone. When she followed Emory into
the hall, feeling an absurd relief that Pierce had had enough
sensibility to make himself scarce, she found that he had merely
backed up in the hall and was walking towards them again, as if
having just come down the stairs.
Emory saw him first and said to the older man, 'Oh, good morning,
Pierce. Nice day.' He turned to Caprice, and his expression softened.
She gave him a small smile back, and he touched at her arm before
running up the stairs to his room.
Pierce and she were left looking at each other, silently;' He was in
deep burgundy red slacks, with the cream cardigan she'd borrowed
yesterday over a pale rose shirt. In it he appeared darker than ever,
and for the second time she noticed the beginning of lines which
were carving themselves on either side of his thin nostrils.
'Oh,' she said, deliberately offhand, eyes wary and pebble flat. 'Good
morning, Pierce.' She turned to walk away.
He fell into step beside her, a slight smile beginning at the corners of
his mouth. 'Nice day. Running away again?'
She lurched to a stop, and refused to look at him as she said between
set teeth, 'What do you want?'
She felt, rather than saw him shrug. 'Did I say I wanted anything?' he
asked, limpidly. Then, as she refused to look at him, he said quite
seriously, 'I didn't mean to overhear. You were obviously sharing
something confidential with Emory.'
'You made no quick effort to get away, I noticed,' she said, with a
snap. They entered the dining room, which was empty.
'I'm only human.' That, with another careless shrug.
A quick turn of her head, and she stared at him. 'What does that
mean?'
He went to the other end of the dining room, pushed open a dark
panelled swinging door, and said cheerfully, 'Good morning, Mrs
Vandusen. Would coffee for two be any trouble this early? Thanks.'
Feeling left on a dangling end, she wandered around the table,
touching chairs lightly with her hand. If she'd thought she could get
away with it, she would leave him right then and there, but that, even
for her, would be too appallingly rude. No, that's not true, she
realised, as soon as she'd thought it. She felt a curious desire to thrash
out the rest of the conversation with him.
He turned back, neatly. She knew, suddenly, that he wouldn't answer
her question. People always had a limit to how far they would open,
in social circumstances. God knows, she certainly did.
'I meant,' he said quietly, strolling to the table, 'that I had come to the
doorway at a very enlightening moment and, since I wanted to hear
more, I waited.' His eyes met, and held hers, dark diamond bright.
'No excuse.'
He drew out a chair for her courteously, large, slim hands curling
around the edges of its back, and hers were the eyes to fall first. She
sat, head bowed, and he then took a seat directly to her left, just
around the corner of the end of the table, his knee brushing hers. She
was intensely aware of him so close, and held herself tight because of
it.
'Here you are!' said Mrs Vandusen smilingly, as she backed through
the swinging door, laden with a tray. 'Shall I set it on the sideboard,
or would you like it on the table?'
'The table's fine, thank you,' replied Pierce, and the housekeeper set
down the
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