‘You look tired, Isobel.’
‘I’ve been busy today.’
‘You have no help here?’
‘I have an assistant, but he left a short while ago.’ Tired of small talk, Isobel cut to the chase. ‘I didn’t put an address on my letter, so how did you find me?’
Luke’s smile set her teeth on edge. ‘For a while I was so furious I had no wish to find you. But, after seeing your painting of my pool, my faithful Andres, who found working with me very difficult after I received your letter, suggested that you might sell your work through a website. The rest was easy. Had you forgotten the power of the Internet, Isobel?’
‘No. I just took it for granted that once you received my letter you’d be so angry you’d just put me out of your life and forget me.’
‘It was my first reaction,’ he admitted. ‘Out of all the emotions that besieged me, the most violent was anger because you were a coward, Isobel. You rejected me by letter. But my fury soon gave way to a desire to hear you say no to me, face to face. And to give me your real explanation.’ He moved closer. ‘So here I am.’
Isobel looked at him in silence for a moment, then crossed to the control panel. ‘I leave the security lights on for the paintings in the windows, but at this hour I switch off the rest.’ She turned with a polite smile. ‘Perhaps you’d like to come up to my flat. I’m desperate for a cup of tea.’ Inane, but the truth. Her mouth was so dry it was hard to swallow.
‘Efcharisto, Isobel. Then later I will take you out to dine.’
She made no response to that and opened the private door leading to her stairs. ‘Two flights up, I’m afraid.’
‘Is your ankle better? These stairs must have been difficult for a while when you first returned,’ he commented, following her up.
A lot of things had been difficult. Most of them still were. ‘My ankle’s fine now,’ she said politely. When she reached the small landing at the head of the stairs she opened the door of her sitting room and waved him inside. ‘Do sit down while I make tea.’
Left alone to inspect them, Luke eyed his surroundings with interest. The artist in Isobel had a flair for the dramatic. A peacock-blue throw draped a jade velvet couch, and ruby and gold silk cushions glowed on a leather armchair. At strategic points around the room small tables of varying design held piles of books and lamps with vivid shades.
A jewel box of a room, thought Luke, then turned as the jewel who lived in it backed into the room with a tray. ‘Let me,’ he said, and took the tray from her. ‘Where shall I put it?’
Isobel cleared a space on a table alongside the sofa and Luke set the tray down with care, feeling very male and clumsy in the feminine room. ‘Try the chair,’ she invited. ‘I made coffee for you, by the way.’
‘Efcharisto.’ He took the cup from her and put it safe on a table alongside the couch, afraid that if he moved too suddenly he would knock something over. ‘So. Why would you not come to me, Isobel?’ he said baldly.
She sipped some tea before she answered. ‘I did consider it—I thought about it long and hard. Then something happened which made it impossible. So I wrote the letter.’
Luke snatched up his coffee cup, ignoring the sting as the liquid scalded his mouth. ‘You met another man?’
‘No.’ Isobel took in a deep breath, wishing her heart would stop banging around in her chest. ‘I found out I’m pregnant—I’m having a baby, Luke.’
He looked as though she’d punched him in the stomach. ‘Is it mine?’ He sat very still, every muscle in his body tense as he watched the colour leach from her face.
‘No,’ she said after a taut pause.
‘Whose, then?’ he demanded, his pallor outdoing hers.
‘Mine.’
His jaw clenched. ‘You told me you took care of birth control yourself.’
Isobel stabbed him with a glacial blue glare. ‘I did. But I was kidnapped, remember. The man didn’t give me time to pack my pills.’ Suddenly she sprang up to run to the bathroom and stayed there until she was sure her stomach meant to behave. She would have given much to remain locked in the bathroom for the foreseeable future, but eventually she went out in answer to Luke’s urgent knock on the door.
He barred her way