Sweet Surrender (The Dysarts) by Catherine George Page B

him.
    â€˜Which is why I’ll never understand—’ He stopped, shaking his head. ‘No, I won’t go there again.’
    After the meal Alasdair put a match to the logs in the drawing room fireplace.
    â€˜You needn’t have done that,’ said Kate. ‘I can’t stay long.’
    â€˜At least you’ll go home warm.’
    â€˜The heating here is very efficient for such a big house. I wouldn’t have thought you’d need a fire as well.’
    â€˜I told you I like my creature comforts.’ He sat beside her on a sofa he’d pulled nearer the fire, and turned to her with a look which made Kate faintly uneasy. ‘So. If I’m forbidden to visit you in Foychurch, do I have to wait until Easter to see you again?’
    Kate gazed into the crackling fire, suddenly feeling rather silly. This was the twenty-first century, she reminded herself. Probably no one in the village had the least interest in her social life. ‘All right. If you want to come to Foychurch you can,’ she said at last. ‘But you’d have to leave at a respectable hour.’
    â€˜To safeguard your reputation?’
    â€˜No,’ she said impatiently. ‘So I can get a good night’s sleep. I get up early during the week.’
    Alasdair took her hand. ‘Are you actually saying I can come calling, Miss Dysart?’
    She turned on him sharply. ‘I’m actually saying that you can come round one night next week if you like, Alasdair.’
    â€˜But I am not to read anything more than that into it?’
    â€˜There isn’t any more,’ she said flatly.
    â€˜Oh, yes, there is,’ he assured her, and pulled her onto his lap. He looked down into her startled face for a moment, then lowered his head to kiss her, his arms closing round her like a vice.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    K ATE stiffened in protest, and after a moment Alasdair relaxed his arms a little and moved his mouth away from hers.
    â€˜You said you wouldn’t take up where we left off,’ she accused.
    â€˜I’m not. I’m starting from the beginning again. Only this time,’ he whispered, his breath hot against her cheek, ‘we’re not in a car, on a cold, dark road, but here on my home turf, in warmth and complete privacy—an arrangement I like a lot better.’ His lips grazed her earlobe. ‘I like the feel of you in my arms even more.’
    And the hell of it was, thought Kate, that she did, too. She turned her head away. ‘It’s my own fault. Just by coming here.’
    Alasdair shifted her more comfortably on his lap, his hold still firm enough to rid Kate of any ideas about struggling.
    â€˜I would be lying,’ he told her, ‘if I said I didn’t want you. From where you’re sitting it must be obvious.’
    Colour rushed to the face he was smoothing against his shoulder.
    â€˜But don’t worry,’ he went on. ‘I won’t do anything about it. Unless you want me to.’
    â€˜I don’t go in for this kind of thing,’ she said flatly.
    â€˜Why not?’
    â€˜It’s never worth it,’ she said with a sigh.
    Alasdair laughed softly. ‘It can be, my sweet.’
    â€˜For you, maybe, but not for me.’
    â€˜So at this moment,’ he went on, his tone so clinical he might have been discussing some experiment, ‘despite the pleasure I’m taking in just holding you in my arms, your only instinct is escape?’
    Kate wished it was. ‘I won’t say this is unpleasant,’ she agreed, her tone matching his, ‘but if I’d thought it was taken for granted as part of the day’s entertainment I would have driven straight home after lunch.’
    â€˜So that’s it.’ Alasdair’s chuckle vibrated against Kate’s breasts. ‘I’ve got it!’
    â€˜You’ve got what?’
    â€˜Why you’re so prickly these day, Kate Dysart.’ He smiled into