A Little Seduction Omnibus (4 page)

‘Bethany,’ Beth told him.

‘Bethany...I like that; it suits you. My grandmother was a Beth as well. Her actual name was Alžbĕta, which she anglicised when she and my grandfather fled to Britain. She died before I was born—of a broken heart, my grandfather used to say, mourning the country and the family she had to leave behind.

‘When my parents finally visited Prague, after the Revolution, my mother said that she found it incredibly moving to hear her family talking about her. She said it made her mother come alive for her. She died when my mother was eight...’

Beth made an involuntary sound of distress.

‘Yes,’ Alex agreed, confirming that he had heard and understood it. ‘I feel the same way too. My mother missed out on so much—the loving presence of her mother
and
the comfort of being part of the large, extended family which she would have known had she grown up here in Prague. But then, of course, as my grandfather used to say, the opposite and darker side of that was the fact that because of his political beliefs he would have been persecuted and maybe even killed.

‘The rest of the family certainly didn’t escape unscathed. My grandfather was a younger son. His eldest brother would, in the normal course of events, have inherited both lands and a title from his father, but the Regime took all that away from the family.

‘Now, of course, it has been restored. There are some families living in the Czech Republic today who have regained so many draughty castles that they’re at a loss to know what to do with them all.

‘Fortunately, in the case of my family, there is only the one. I shall take you to see it. It is very beautiful, but not so beautiful as you.’

Beth stared at him, completely lost for words. British he might claim to be, British his passport might
declare
him to be, but there was quite obviously a very strong Czech streak in him. Beth had done her homework before coming to Prague; she knew how the Czech people prided themselves on being artistic and sensitive, great poets and writers, idealists and romantics. Alex was certainly romantic. At least in the sense that he obviously enjoyed embroidering reality and the truth. There was no way
she
came anywhere near deserving to be described as beautiful, and it infuriated her that he should think her stupid enough to believe that she might be. Why was he doing it?

She was about to ask him when the lustres caught her eye again. Alex was right; they would be expensive on sale in a hotel like this one, but there must be other factories that made the same kind of thing—factories that did not charge expensive hotel prices to tourists. Without an interpreter, though, she would have no chance of finding them.

Beth turned to Alex Andrews.

‘I know exactly what the going rate for interpreters is,’ she warned him fiercely, ‘and you will have to be able to drive.
And
I intend to check that the hotel management is prepared to vouch for you...’

The smile he was giving her was doing crazy things to her heart, making it flip over and then flop heavily against her chest wall like a stranded salmon.

‘What are you
doing
?’ she protested, panicking as Alex reached for her hand.

‘Sealing our bargain with a kiss,’ he told her softly as he lifted her nerveless fingers to his lips. And then, before they got there, he stopped and told her thoughtfully, ‘Although perhaps on second thought...’

Beth went limp with relief. But it was a relief that came a little bit too soon, for, as she started to pull away, Alex leaned closer to her and swiftly captured her mouth with his own, kissing it firmly.

Beth was too shocked to move.

‘You...you kissed me,’ she gasped in a squeaky voice. ‘But...’

‘I’ve been wanting to do that from the first moment I saw you,’ Alex told her huskily.

Beth stared at him.

Common sense, not to mention a sense of self-preservation, screamed to her that there was no way she could employ him as her interpreter, not after what he had just done, but his mesmeric grey eyes were hypnotising her, making it impossible for her to say what she knew ought to be said.

‘We’ll need a hire car,’ he was telling her, just as though what he had done was the most natural thing in the world. ‘I’ll organise one.’

CHAPTER THREE

B
ETH
GAVE
A
small sigh as she replaced the lustres on the glass shelves of the hotel’s gift shop.

The previous day, after Alex Andrews had dropped her off following their visit to the first of the factories on her list, she had come into the shop and asked the price of the lustres they had on display.

As she had expected, they were expensive—
very
expensive.

‘This piece is from one of our foremost crystal factories,’ the salesgirl had explained to Beth. ‘The lady whose family owns and runs the factory would never normally allow their things to be displayed in such a way, but she is a friend of the owner of the hotel. Normally they work only to order. Those wishing to buy their glassware have to visit the factory and speak with the people there themselves. The factory has been with the family for many, many generations, although it was taken away from them for a time during the Regime...’

‘The lustre is very beautiful,’ Beth had sighed.

Yes, it
was
very beautiful, she thought now as she left the gift shop.

The factories she had already visited today produced nothing even approaching the quality of the piece in the gift shop. The people she had met there had been friendly and helpful, eager to do business with her, but Beth had known the moment she saw their glassware range that it was not right for her shop—they specialised in highly individual pieces, highly covetable pieces. But it had not been her disappointment over the quality of what she had seen that had caused her to storm back to the car several paces ahead of Alex Andrews, her lips pressed together in a tight, angry line.

Still, at least this evening she would be seeing the stall holder in Wenceslas Square, who had promised her that she would bring her samples of the kind of glass she wanted to buy.

Yesterday, after Alex Andrews had left her to go and organise a hire car, Beth had spent an anxious hour restlessly walking by the river, trying to convince herself that she had not been as reckless as she feared in accepting his offer of help. For some reason, although technically she was the more senior ‘partner’ in their ‘relationship’, and she therefore held the power, the control, she couldn’t quite escape the feeling that Alex had manoeuvred her into employing him, and that he was deliberately trying to manipulate her.

She’d known that she was going to have to be on her guard with him, and that she couldn’t trust him. He was a man, after all, just like Julian. Another charmer...another chancer...

By the time he had returned she had told herself that she was fully armoured against him.

She’d deliberately had her lunch early, so that he wouldn’t suggest they could eat together, thus ensuring that she wouldn’t be tricked into paying for his meal. But even then he had
nearly
caught her out.

Eating so early had meant that she hadn’t been particularly hungry, and so she had left the hotel dining room having barely touched her meal. Just as she had done so, Alex had walked into the hotel foyer. The warmth of the smile he had given her could quite easily have turned another woman’s head, and Beth had certainly been conscious of the envious looks she’d attracted from the three female tourists who’d been watching them.

‘We still haven’t discussed exactly what you want to do,’ Alex told her as he reached her. ‘I thought we would have lunch together so that we can do so. There’s a very good traditional restaurant not far from here that I know you’d enjoy...’

What she would not give for just one tenth of his impressive self-confidence, Beth thought enviously as she started to tell him curtly, ‘No, I’ve already...’

‘And these are the factories you want to visit,’ Alex was saying as he picked up her list.

‘Yes,’ she agreed tersely.

‘Mmm... Well, they certainly produce reasonable-quality crystal, but if what you’re looking for is more along the lines of the pieces you were looking at in the gift shop then I would recommend...’

Alarm bells began to ring in Beth’s brain. She had been warned at home to be wary of the touts paid by some of the more dubious manufacturers whose aim was to sell inferior-quality goods to the unwary at inflated prices.

‘None of the reputable manufacturers would want to tarnish their reputations by becoming involved in that sort of thing,’ she’d been told by a friend. ‘The Czechs are a very artistic and a very proud people, but unfortunately, like any other nation, they have their less honest citizens. But that shouldn’t af-fect you.’

‘I don’t want or need your recommendations, thank you,’ she interrupted Alex abruptly. ‘I am paying you to act as an interpreter and a driver. Whilst you were gone I’ve been looking at my maps. Since we’re already halfway through the day, I think that today we should visit the closest of the factories, which will be this one here...’

As she spoke Beth held out the map to show him where she meant.

Immediately he began to frown.

‘I wouldn’t advise that you visit that particular factory,’ he told her quietly. ‘And as for it being the closest... As the crow flies, it may indeed seem so, but it can only be reached by a very circuitous route, and some recent storms in the area have resulted in heavy floods which have left some of the roads virtually impassable. And besides, I rather think if we did go there you’d be disappointed in what they produce.’

Beth could scarcely believe her ears. She had anticipated that she might have problems with him, and quite definitely had serious doubts about the wisdom of employing him, but she had scarcely expected him to start arguing with her right from the word go. His previous manner towards her had suggested quite the opposite, and it came as rather a shock to her to see him in such a decisive and, yes, dominant role. Where were the compliments he had given her earlier? Where was the easy charm and teasing warmth?

‘I hadn’t realised you were such an expert on crystal,’ she told him tightly.

He gave a brief shrug and told her lightly, ‘I should be; it’s in the blood.’

Beth was slightly confused. What did he mean? That because he was half-Czech he must automatically know about crystal? For sheer effrontery he had to be without equal, she decided angrily.

‘Well, it may not be in
my
blood, but so far as I’m concerned I am still the best judge of what will and won’t sell in
my
shop,’ she told him assertively. ‘And the only way I can decide whether or not any manufacturer produces the quality of crystal I want to sell is by seeing it for myself...’

‘It’s certainly one way of doing it,’ Alex agreed. ‘But you have to remember that the Czech Republic manufactures a very wide range of glass to suit all pockets and all tastes, and therefore, to my mind at least, it makes sense to eliminate those factories and manufacturers which are not going...which do not produce the type of goods you want.’

‘Yes, it does,’ Beth concurred, gritting her teeth as she told him, ‘Which is why I was very specific about my requirements when I discussed them with our local Board of Trade representative before I left.’

‘Perhaps you weren’t specific enough,’ Alex told her challengingly. ‘Certainly, from my knowledge of them, at least half the factories on your list make either novelty or everyday glassware of a type I doubt you would be interested in.’

‘Oh? I see. And you would know about that, of course. Tell me, Alex, don’t you think it’s rather stretching the arm of coincidence a little too far that miraculously, just as I should need an interpreter and guide, one turns up who purports to be an expert not just in the manufacture of crystal but also in knowing exactly what type of goods I want?’

There was a brief pause before Alex responded with unexpected dryness, ‘Not really. After all, crystal is one of the country’s most famous exports. Naturally I suspect that any guide you would have employed would have known something about its manufacture...’

‘But not so much as you?’ Beth suggested cynically.

‘No, not so much as me,’ he agreed gravely. ‘But I can see that you’re determined not to take my advice and so...’ he glanced at his watch ‘...the sooner we leave the better, if you really want to visit this specific factory this afternoon.’

* * *

Later, as they drove in an uncomfortable silence over roads which Beth was forced to acknowledge were not the best she had ever ridden on, she admitted inwardly to herself that had it been another guide, an accredited guide, who had suggested to her that she might find it more difficult to reach her destination than she had envisaged she would probably have listened and accepted such advice, but because it had been Alex...

But then, hadn’t she every reason to suspect him? she asked herself defensively. Look at the way he had introduced himself to her and flirted with her. Not that he was flirting with her
now
... Far from it. She glanced briefly at him as he sat beside her, concentrating on his driving.

Even dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a polo shirt he still possessed a very powerful presence, a very potent maleness, she acknowledged reluctantly.

It was plain, too, that she had offended him earlier by rejecting his advice—his
unwanted
advice, she reminded herself—because there was quite definitely a very stern and remote set to his mouth. And, whilst he had been polite, and careful to describe to her the historical nature of the countryside they had been driving through, he had done so in a way that had very definitely kept a distance between them. Which, of course, was exactly what she had wanted—wasn’t it? Of course it was. She was simply not the sort of person, the sort of
woman
, who got any sort of pleasure or...or...anything else out of challenging people and creating an atmosphere of tension and sexual aggression between herself and a man. No, she didn’t find that sort of thing exciting or...or stimulating in any possible kind of way.

It turned out that the factory which was their destination could only be reached by a cobbled road with a teeth-jarringly uneven camber, so much so that when they finally drew up in front of it Beth had to stop herself from exhaling a pent-up breath of relief.

It would never do to allow Alex Andrews to think that she regretted not listening to his advice, but cravenly, as they started to walk towards the factory, Beth prayed that the glassware she had come to see would vindicate her decision and make their trip worthwhile.

Picturesquely the factory was housed in what seemed an almost fortress-like building-cum-castle, but when Beth couldn’t help remarking on this Alex told her grimly, ‘Until recently it was used as a prison.’

A prison. Beth shivered and took a few steps backwards just at the moment when a dilapidated lorry came roaring into the small courtyard.

She heard the screech of its brakes as its driver reacted to her presence but for some reason she found it impossible to move, even though she could see the lorry bearing down on her.

A few feet away from her she heard Alex curse as he moved like lightning, turning and grabbing hold of her, lifting her bodily off her feet as he swung her out of the lorry’s path.

The whole incident had lasted less than a handful of seconds but it left Beth badly shaken. So much so that she could actually feel herself trembling violently as Alex continued to hold her.

‘It’s all right...it’s all right,’ she could hear him saying gruffly to her. ‘You’re safe...’

Safe!

Beth raised her head to look at him, the politely formal words of thanks she had intended to utter forgotten as her glance meshed with his.

How could eyes that were such a cool pale grey look so...so hot, like molten mercury?

‘Alex...’

She could feel the heat in his gaze as it shifted from her eyes to her mouth. Her lips started to tremble—and soften. Involuntarily she could feel them starting to part...to open in an age-old signal of female recognition—and invitation.

This couldn’t be happening, she told herself hazily. She
couldn’t
be standing here in the courtyard of this dilapidated building knowing that Alex Andrews intended to kiss her, knowing it and not doing the slightest thing to prevent him from doing so other than to utter a token ‘no’ as the downward descent of his head blotted out the daylight and she felt the warm, sure pressure of his mouth against hers.

If she was completely honest, when Julian had kissed her she had never truly enjoyed the too wet, too soft sensation of his mouth on hers, and had, on many occasions, actively tried to avoid it.

Some women were just not particularly highly sexed, she had assured herself, and she quite obviously was one of them—which made it all the more extraordinary that she should feel, the moment Alex Andrews’ mouth touched hers, as though her whole body was engulfed in a heat even greater than that generated by the blast furnaces used to heat silica.

Was it possible that somehow Alex Andrews had the power to convert her raw anger and dislike, her suspicion of him, into something else, a very different kind of emotion, just as the heat the furnaces used on the raw ingredients of the silica sand could turn it into the molten liquid which ultimately could be converted into the most beautiful crystal glass? But of course it wasn’t. How could the negative, self-defensive emotions she felt towards Alex ever be converted into something else, especially since she herself didn’t want them to be? So then why was she melting so into his arms, into his body; why was
her
body becoming molten liquid with the white heat of her own desire?

‘Do you believe in love at first sight?’ Alex asked hoarsely against her lips. His hands were cupping her face, his thumbs gently stroking the hot flesh of her flushed cheeks.

‘Oh, yes,’ Beth sighed mistily.

Hadn’t it always been one of her most cherished private dreams that one day she would meet a man,
the
man, and from the very first second of setting eyes on him, she would just know that
he
was
the
one?

But of course that was a silly, almost adolescent fantasy, a daydream that, now she was a grown woman, life and reality had forced her to abandon.