Substitute Bride Read Free Page B

faces,' he observed indifferently.

    He watched with unrepentant satisfaction as she went scarlet, and she knew intuitively that he enjoyed hurting her.
    She sensed, swiftly appaled, that given the opportunity he would take a sadistic pleasure in it. The awareness between them, if he was conscious of it at al, wasn't something he was going to let her enjoy!
    'When you've quite finished insulting me,' she snapped, 'I'll show you where you can wash your hands—unless you remember?'
    'The kitchen sink will do,' he said, and proceeded to use it, after taking off his jacket and shirt.
    Open-mouthed, her throat curiously dry, Emma watched as he turned on the taps before reaching for the soap. His back was broad and when he twisted slightly sideways, she saw the crisp curling hair which covered his strongly muscled chest. Hastily, as he finished rinsing the faint bloodstains from his arms and began drying them, she turned away. Trying to steady her breath, she began ladling soup into the golden earthenware bowls on the table.'
    She didn't look at him as he sat down, hating the peculiar heat which seemed to be surging right through her.
    Impatiently she wondered what was wrong with her and wished her hands would stop trembling.
    'That was good.' She winced at Rick Conway's sigh of pleasure as she removed his empty bowl. 'Did you make it?'
    'Yes,' she set the main course before him with a flat little frown, 'I prepared it last night, after I finished outside, before I went to bed. I'm glad you enjoyed it.'

    His brows lifted as though he was impressed, as he glanced up at her. 'You're a good cook. This steak is delicious, too. I don't think I've tasted better.'
    'It's not the best.' Emma wondered why she was bothering to explain, unless it was because praise was so unknown to her she was letting it go to her head. 'But I prepare it well beforehand, too, for the best results.' Her sense of humour suddenly reasserting itself, she grinned, 'I do have some redeeming features, you see.'
    Rick's eyebrows quirked again, but he said nothing, and her smile faded as she bitterly rebuked herself for fishing for compliments. Her face going quite pale, she looked away, staring blindly down at her own piece of steak, which she suddenly didn't feel like eating.
    'Do you often eat out?' He sighed, as if, noting her despondency, he was searching for a topic to amuse her.
    'Me? Oh,' she smiled again, wryly, 'almost never.'
    'When Blanche and I are married you'll have to come and stay with us,' he said formaly. 'I think you would enjoy our West Indian food.'
    'Yes, possibly.' Her reply sounded stilted, she knew, but she couldn't find anything else to say. After Rick Conway married she wasn't sure that she'd be wise to see more of him than was necessary. They didn't get on.
    'Shal I make coffee?' he offered unexpectedly. 'I can see you're tired.'
    Because she couldn't recall anyone suggesting she was tired since she came here, she blinked in astonishment. 'If you like,' she indicated the percolator on the sink. 'I'm not all that tired, though, and when Blanche comes I'll go to bed.'
    He filed the percolator before he enquired thoughtfuly,
    'How much land do you have here?'
    'Just over a hundred acres. And you?' she asked, hoping to divert him.
    He smiled, as if her blunt question amused him.
    'Considerably more than that, I'm afraid.'
    Emma noticed he didn't reveal anything. 'I suppose I ought to thank you for helping this evening.'
    'Not if you don't feel like it,' he returned tauntingly.
    It was an effort to meet the dark eyes, which Emma sensed were watching her cynicaly. 'You seemed to think nothing of it.'
    'I'm quite good with human babies as wel,' he assured her lightly. 'On a sugar plantation things can happen very quickly and there isn't always time to fetch a doctor.'
    Was he deliberately trying to embarrass her? Her cheeks pink, Emma suspected he was, and her fingers curled tightly.
    'You must be looking forward to having a son of your