War of Love Page 6

  He looked almost as arrogant as his nephew at that moment. But only almost—no one could be quite as arrogant as Lyon Buchanan, in Silke's opinion! Although it gave her a glimpse of what Henry must have been like as a younger man. It made her doubly curious as to how her mother could have managed to run away from him in the first place.

  'I feel fine about it,' Silke told him with a shrug.

  'I've told your mother about my shocking be­haviour towards you yesterday.' Henry looked a little shame-faced.

  Silke nodded, crossing the room to join them. 'Warned her she'll be marrying a lecher, have you?' she teased lightly, knowing that her mother was strong enough to curb any such tendencies. And Henry had only been having a little fun, after all—albeit at her expense!

  He gave a rueful grin. 'All that's going to change now I have your mother back in my life,' he assured.

  Silke laughed softly. 'I'm sure it is,' she said with certainty. 'And while I might think it's wonderful that you've sorted out your differences and decided to get married, I know someone else who won't be so happy about it.' She raised pointed brows at Henry.

  'Lyon!' he said with feeling.

  'Exactly.' She grimaced.

  Henry's mouth tightened determinedly. 'I'll deal with Lyon,' he told them forcefully.

  After Lyon's reaction yesterday to believing Silke was the one who was about to marry his uncle, she didn't think he would be any more enamoured of the idea of her mother doing so. But if Henry thought he could 'deal' with him... She just hoped her mother didn't get mown down in the crossfire!

  'We'll deal with him together,' her mother spoke up firmly, the determined glitter in her eyes immediately dispelling any doubts Silke might have had about her mother's being able to stand up to Lyon—her mother looked like a Sherman tank about to do battle with the enemy!

  In fact, her mother's next words confirmed that that was exactly how she felt about it. 'After all, he's only a Buchanan,' she said hardly.

  Again there was that edge to her mother's voice when talking about Lyon Buchanan, and Silke couldn't help wondering if he had somehow been in­volved in the past break-up of the older couple. Although Silke didn't remember Henry Winter being one of the men her mother had been involved with when she was with her as a child, and, if her mother's and Henry's relationship had been before Silke was even born, then Lyon would only have been a child himself, surely making it unlikely that he could have any serious effect on two adults? No doubt she would get the full story from her mother—when she could manage to drag herself away from Henry's side!— and until then Silke knew she would just have to be patient where her own curiosity was concerned.

  She straightened. 'I'll get back to the agency,' she told her mother, smiling affectionately as her mother reluctantly made to rise. 'I think you can take one day off, Mummy; after all, it isn't every day you become engaged!' And she had never seen her mother look so happy.

  Her mother was even blushing like a schoolgirl as she stood up to hug Silke. 'I'll explain it all to you later, darling. I promise.'

  As Silke went back to the office she knew it wasn't her the other couple should feel apprehensive about explaining things to, that Lyon was going to be the one they should be wary of, despite Henry's deter­mination where his nephew was concerned.

  It also dawned on her—horrifically!—that there was no longer any chance of her never seeing Lyon again, that once her mother married Henry Lyon would somehow be related to her. What a dreadful prospect!

  'There's someone waiting in the office to see you,' the agency secretary told Silke as soon as she walked in through the doorway.

  'Someone to see-----' Silke broke off her puzzled question as she guessed from Jackie's flustered ex­pression exactly who her visitor was; who else would be arrogant enough to demand admission to her mother's private office! 'Lyon Buchanan!' she said with feeling.

  Jackie looked even more agitated. 'I don't know who he is, he didn't deign to give a name, but he's arrogant as Old Nick! I told him you wouldn't be back until later, but he insisted on waiting for you. I____»

  'Don't worry about it, Jackie,' Silke soothed dis­tractedly, glancing towards the closed inner office door, behind which she was sure Lyon Buchanan lay-sat—in wait for her. 'I quite understand your di­lemma; Old Nick has nothing on this man!' She paused near the inner office door. 'And if one or both of us isn't out of this office in five minutes, then I want you to call the police—because we're probably murdering each other! Only joking, Jackie,' she as­sured with a rueful smile as the other girl looked more worried than ever. 'As far as I'm aware, he isn't physically violent.' It wasn't necessary when you were verbally capable of demolishing someone!

  He wasn't sitting at all when Silke entered the office, but standing in front of the window, the weak March sunlight behind him clearly outlining the powerful strength of his body, the darkness of his hair taking on a silvery sheen, his hands—those hands she had to avoid looking at because their beauty totally belied the arrogant hardness of the rest of this man—thrust into the pockets of his tailored trousers. Thank God!

  As he stepped forward out of the sunlight his face was thrown into sharp profile, those grey eyes taking on a silver intensity. Silke had no idea why he had returned so quickly after their heated exchange yes­terday, but he certainly didn't look as if he was about to offer her an apology for his behaviour!

  In fact, his next words confirmed it. 'So you've finally managed to drag yourself away from my uncle's side?' he taunted.

  Silke drew in a long, controlling breath; instantly losing her temper with this man wasn't going to help the situation. If only he didn't have the ability to make her do that so easily! 'Mr Buchanan,' she greeted calmly, closing the door firmly behind her, relieved that she was at least dressed in a businesslike way this morning, her black suit complemented by an em­erald-green blouse that made her eyes appear greener than ever, her hair a silky blonde cloud down past her shoulders. 'What can I do for you this morning?' She pointedly took her seat behind her mother's desk, forcing him to move away from the window to the other side of the desk if he wanted to look at her while they talked.

  His mouth twisted at her brisk, businesslike tone. 'It's not what you can do for me, but what I can do for you,' he misquoted drily.

  Silke quirked blonde brows enquiringly. What was the man talking about now?

  He sat on the side of the desk, bringing him dangerously close to Silke, his hands out of his pockets now—a fact Silke took care to avoid looking at. 'How much do you want, Silke?'

  She frowned. 'You'll receive the agency account when the bills go out at the end of the month-----'

  'I'm talking about you, Silke,' he cut in harshly. 'How much do you want to get out of my uncle's life?'

  Maybe her joking advice to Jackie about calling the police wasn't such a joke after all; Silke felt like doing Lyon a physical injury at that moment! How dared he offer her money in that way? My God, arrogance didn't even begin to describe this man!

  'Don't look so outraged,' he drawled tauntingly. "This way you get the money but no aged husband.'

  Silke was shaking so badly at this further insult from this man that she had to grip the edge of the desk so that he shouldn't see the visible trembling of her hands. No doubt Henry was right, and Lyon's own experiences with women pursuing his wealth rather than him had tempered his own outlook on life, but it didn't give him the right to judge her by those other women's standards.

  'Name your price, Silke—and then we'll negotiate something a little more reasonable,' he ground out forcefully, looking down at her coldly.

  She swallowed hard, breathing deeply. 'You couldn't afford me, Mr Buchanan-----'

  'I don't want you!' He stood up abruptly, moving sharply away from the desk.

  Silke looked at him frowningly, at the nerve pulsing in his cheek, his tightly clenched jaw. 'Don't you?' she finally said slowly, knowing even as she said it that he did want her, that Lyon was physically at­tracted to h
er himself!

  It was there in the angry flare in his eyes, the thinning of his tautly held mouth, the way his hands were clenched at his sides. She had thought him cold and arrogant, but she could suddenly see a raw, pul­sating passion in the dark grey of his eyes. He didn't want to want her, but he most certainly did!

  'You little-----!' He moved too fast for her, Silke

  being still dazed by her own realisation, and before she could even offer a word of protest he had pulled her up out of her chair and into the hardness of his arms, his mouth coming down on hers with forceful intensity.

  Maybe the physical attraction had been there be­tween them from the moment they met, burning just below the surface of their antagonism, but the moment their mouths fused together it was like Guy Fawkes Night and the Fourth of July all rolled into one, sen­sations coursing through Silke like she had never known before, every part of her feeling alive, singing with heated desire.

  Lyon's mouth moved against hers savagely, leaving no room for anything but response, Silke clinging to the broad width of his shoulders, revelling in his hands roaming restlessly across her back as he moulded her body to the lean length of his, her breasts crushed against his chest, her nipples taut and thrusting with urgent need.

  And then his hands—those incredible hands; she could picture how they would look against her back, and she quivered at their lean strength against her— those hands gentled to a caress, moving beneath her jacket to touch her through the silky material of her blouse, his mouth becoming less savage, moving slowly against hers now, the tip of his tongue lightly caressing their softness before dipping inside the moistness of her mouth.

  Silke felt as if her senses had been invaded: feel, taste, touch, Lyon's body feeling hard and de­manding against her, the tautness of his hips pro­voking an excitement within her she could barely contain. And as one of those hands touched the sen­sitive tip of her breast she could only gasp in wonder. Lyon took advantage of her fully parted lips to thrust his tongue further into the warm cavern of her mouth, possessing her fully.

  She knew that if Lyon hadn't been holding her so tightly she would have fallen to the carpeted floor at his feet, her legs feeling shaky, her body hot, engulfed in flame, her hands clinging to the broad width of his shoulders. She wanted him as much as he wanted her!

  It was impossible to believe! She had met this man only yesterday, had felt antagonism towards him from the first, hadn't so much as looked at another man since James had let her down so badly, and now this-----! Lyon Buchanan, of all people. She didn't want to want this man either!

  'What-----?' Lyon looked slightly dazed as Silke pulled abruptly away from him. 'Silke...?' He frowned down at her darkly.

  She backed away from him, her eyes deep green pools of pain, her hands clasped tightly behind her back so that he couldn't see their trembling. This man already had a power over her she wouldn't have believed possible, and she had no intention of letting him see how deeply she had been affected by his kisses, his touch, his... Oh, God, she had to get him away from here, from her!

  'I think you should leave, Lyon.' God, was that huskily uncertain voice really hers? 'Now,' she added hardly.

  He had recovered more quickly than her, his eyes coldly assessing as he looked down at her, a derisive twist to his lips. 'We haven't finished our nego­tiations—or have we... ?' he added mockingly. 'I don't think my uncle would take too kindly to knowing that I could have had you here in this office this morning if I had wanted to. Do you?' He arched mocking brows.

  She didn't doubt that Lyon would have taken great pleasure in telling Henry exactly that! And, if she had been the one about to marry his uncle, how de­structive that would have been. But she wasn't, and, far from wanting to correct him on that assumption, she now looked forward to letting him find out the truth for himself. Arrogant, arrogant... She couldn't think of an expletive strong enough to call this man!

  Her head went back proudly, her eyes flashing warningly. 'I think I'll risk Henry's reaction,' she challenged.

  Lyon's eyes narrowed ominously. 'Are you that confident of his infatuation for you?' he rasped.

  Silke gave him a pitying look. 'I'm that confident of the fact that he's a man, and that you're a-----'

  'Careful,' he warned, dangerously soft.

  She shook her head derisively—as much towards herself as him; how could she have responded to such a man? He was everything she despised in a man: arrogant, self-assured to the point of condescension— in fact, too damned sure of his own power!

  'I'm sure you're perfectly aware of my opinion of you,' she scorned.

  His mouth twisted. 'It wasn't so apparent a few minutes ago,' he drawled challengingly.

  This man used every weapon at his disposal! 'Do you know what I hope, Lyon?' There was no way she could continue to call him Mr Buchanan after the in­timacy they had just shared. And they had shared it. She didn't know what excuses he was making to himself for his own part in what had happened, but she hadn't imagined his response to her. 'I hope,' she continued as he raised his brows questioningly at her, 'that I can actually be there at the moment of your humiliation. Because it's going to come,' she assured him firmly.

  'I think you have that the wrong way round,' he derided.

  She met his scornful gaze unflinchingly. 'We'll see,' she said softly.

  'We will see.' He nodded abruptly, suddenly seeming to tire of the game, and straightened. 'But be warned, Silke,' he paused at the door to add. 'I rarely, if ever, lose.'

  She already knew that, didn't need to be told, but this time there was no doubt he was going to lose. For her mother's sake. Her mother deserved the hap­piness Silke had seen in her face this morning as she sat with the man she loved. And nothing this man said or did was going to spoil that. Even if Silke had to take this man on personally to achieve that.

  She shrugged. 'As I said, we'll see, Lyon.'

  He scowled. 'Why are you being so damned stubborn over this, Silke?' he rasped.

  'Why are you?' she returned challengingly.

  'Because I can't believe you want to marry Henry. You don't even know him!' Lyon frowned darkly.

  She shook her head. 'And you don't know me, Lyon. Not in any way that counts,' she added as he ran his gaze pointedly over the length of her body. God, even that sent a shiver of desire running down her spine. This had to stop! She didn't even like this man. And she had always believed that that was necessary in order to feel attracted towards a person. But this man had disproved that in a matter of sec­onds! 'I'm not getting out of Henry's life, Lyon,' she told him with certainty, sure that her mother and Henry would marry each other, and when that hap­pened Henry would be her stepfather, and so very much in her life.

  Lyon's mouth thinned ominously. 'In that case, "let battle commence",' he ground out harshly.

  She gave an inclination of her head. 'By all means. Are you going to see Henry now?'

  He stiffened. 'And if I am?'

  'I thought I might come with you.' She picked up her handbag, ready to leave with him.

  'Prepared to defend yourself?' he derided mockingly.

  She shook her head confidently. 'I don't need to do that.' As he was quickly going to find out once he saw her mother at the clinic with Henry! 'Believe me, Lyon, your actions just now are more despicable than anything I'm guilty of. You're the one who attempted to make love to the woman you believe is about to marry your uncle. How do you think Henry will feel about that?' she taunted.

  'He'll get over it,' he bit out confidently.

  'Will he?' She raised mocking brows, preceding him from the office as he held the door open for her with a confident flourish.

  This man was going to get exactly what he deserved when they got to the clinic. Arrogant, arrogant—mow!

  She refused to even allow herself to think of the fact that part of the reason she was so determined to see Lyon get his come-uppance was because she was still shaken by her own response to him...

  'Frighten
ed I might get my version in first of what happened this morning?' Lyon taunted as Silke sat beside him in the silver Mercedes on the drive to the clinic.

  'Not at all,' she returned smoothly, relishing in the luxurious upholstery of the seat. 'I never drive in town, so this saves me the taxi fare!' She looked across at him with suppressed laughter in her eyes.

  Lyon glanced at her briefly, frowning as he saw that laughter. 'You know,' he said slowly, 'I can't work you out.'

  That must be a first for him! 'No?' She raised mocking brows. 'Maybe if you stopped looking for things that aren't there...'

  'Oh, they're there, Silke.' His eyes narrowed on the road ahead. 'Your behaviour with Henry proves that.'

  Her 'behaviour' with Henry was all in his imagin­ation. Admittedly, going on what he had so far wit­nessed between herself and his uncle, and his uncle's subsequent claim that he was going to marry Satin, a name so similar to Silke's, even that mistake was understandable, so perhaps he felt he had reason to believe the things he did about her. But if Lyon had been a different sort of man, not so quick to judge, to arrogantly presume, then maybe someone would have corrected his wrong assumptions by now.

  Although that moment wasn't far off now. Silke could hardly wait!

  'You have the look of a contented cat about to partake of a bowl of cream,' Lyon suddenly barked harshly.

  She hadn't realised she had given her feelings away so openly. Although that was exactly how she felt! There couldn't have been many occasions in this man's life when he had been bested, but this was definitely going to be one of them. And it couldn't have hap­pened to a more deserving person!

  Lyon watched her with narrowed eyes as she climbed out of the car to accompany him into the clinic, but Silke just met that searching scrutiny with bland in­difference. She could wait for her moment of triumph.

  The receptionist's comment of, 'Nice to see you again, Miss Jordan,' was received by a scowl from Lyon. Obviously he thought the receptionist was re­ferring to Silke's having spent the previous night in Henry's room.