“It’s hardly the worst thing I’ve ever done,” Harry shrugged. “And you got home safely that night, did you not? I was sparing you the attentions of that slimy Count whatever-his-name-was.”
“Count Trastevere,” Hester sniffed. “And he was charming.”
“He was a penniless fortune hunter,” Harry said bluntly. “I was helping you as a friend.”
Hester showed her teeth in a smile that was almost a snarl. “Why,thank you, Tremayne. But I don’t recall asking for your interference.”
He shrugged again, unimpressed by either her sarcasm or her ire. “You’re very welcome.”
She turned back towards the tunnel with a frustrated huff. “You aresoannoying. I hope your camel bites you. I hope you get eaten by sand flies. I hope a scorpion takes up residence in your unmentionables.”
“Now that’s just being mean.”
A mirthless chuckle escaped her as she started back along the passageway. She could sense him following behind her and instantly wished she’d allowed him to go first so he wouldn’t have a close-up view of her posterior.
“I don’t know what it is about you,” she marveled. “No one else manages to irritate me quite so thoroughly.” She stepped briskly over a pile of rubble.
“Have you ever wondered why that is?”
“Why what is?”
“Why I’m the only man who has this effect on you. I’ve seen you deal with imbeciles back in London with the utmost calm. You suffer fools with a polite smile. But me? I drive you crazy.”
He sounded insufferably pleased.
“I suppose you have some wonderfully enticing theory?” Hester called back along the tunnel. She could see the faint rectangle of light ahead. Almost there.
“I do, as a matter fact.”
“I’m all agog to hear it,” she said waspishly.
“It’s because you have feelings for me.”
She almost dropped her candle. “I most assuredly do not!”
“You must have, otherwise you’d have no problem ignoring me, as you do everyone else, or reasoning with me. But I get under your skin. I ruffle your feathers. I alone drive you insane.”
Hester stepped out of the tunnel into the tiny mausoleum and straightened. She extinguished her candle then whirled round to face Tremayne as he, too, left the shaft. “You are insufferably conceited.”
“And right,” he added cheerfully. He blew out his own candle, plunging them into shadow, and took a step toward her. Suddenly the small room seemed smaller. Hester could feel her heart racing madly against her ribs.
He raised his brows at her in mocking challenge. “Admit it. You like me. I might even go as far as to suggest that youdesireme.”
“Desire you?! Ohh! You deluded—”
He moved closer still, and a mocking smile curved the corner of his lips. “Let’s test my theory, shall we? If, as you claim, I have no effect on you, then I should be able to kiss you and elicit no response whatsoever, except revulsion. Or boredom.”
Hester could barely breathe. What game was he playing now? Why was he taunting her like this? She should call his bluff. She should kiss him and stay as still as a statue, as unmoved as one of the carvings that adorned the temples by the Nile.
But then she remembered the last time he’d kissed her, two years ago, and all hope of remaining unaffected fled. Just the thought of it made her stomach coil in excitement. If he kissed her now, she’d embarrass herself by responding. It would mean nothing to him, of course. It would be a game, a tease. But it would mean everything to her. He could never know just how much she wanted him.
“Kiss me,” he murmured.
He leaned in, but she turned her head so his lips only grazed her cheek. Eventhatbrief contact was enough to make her pulse accelerate and her knees go a little wobbly. She stepped back with what she hoped was an easy laugh.
“I’ll kiss you the day it rains in the desert, Harry Tremayne. Which is to say, never.”
She turned and escaped out into the afternoon heat. The sun dazzled her eyes.