THE GREEK'S BARGAIN VIRGIN BRIDE

Chapter 2

'Hello,Bryony.'
     His deep velvet voice shocked her out of her private reverie bringing her startled gaze up to meet his compelling one.
    She cleared her throat and tested her voice, annoyed that it came out husky and tentative of clear and forthright . 'Hello... Kane.'
     Owen Mercer stuffed his handkerchief into his pocket and faced his daughter. 'Kane has something he wishes to discuss with you. Your mother and I will be in the green sitting room if you should need us.'
   Bryony frowned as her parents shuffled away down the great hall like insects trying to escape the final spurt of poison from someone holding a spray can above their heads. Her father's words seemed to contain some sort of veiled warning, as if he didn't trust the man standing silently just behind her not to do her some sort of injury while he had all to himself.
      She turned back to face Kane once more, her expression guarded, her tone clearly unwelcoming. 'What brings you to Mercyfields, Kane?'
    Kane held the study door open and indicated with a slight movement of his dark head for her to go in before him.
     His silence unsettled her but she was determined not to show how much. Schooling her features into cool impassivity, she stepped through, trying not to notice the musky spiciness of his aftershave or the expensive cut of his business suit as she made her way past his imposing frame.
      The Mercyfields  housekeeper's bastard son had certainly turned some sort of professional corner,she reflected. There was no trace of the gangling youth of her childhood now. He looked like a man well used to getting his own way, certainly not one who took orders from others.
     She crossed what seemed an entire hectare of Persian carpet to take a seat on the wing chair near window overlooking the lake. In an effort to maintain her composure she slung one long slim leg over the other and inspected the pointed toe of her shoe as she gave her ankle a twirl.
        She knew he was watching her.
        She could feel the pressure of his dark gaze on her body as if he had reached out and touched her. She was well used to male appraisals, but somehow whenever Kane Kaproulias looked at her she felt as if every layer of her clothing was slipping away from her, leaving her vulnerable and exposed to his all - encompassing dark eyes.
       She sat back in the chair and regarded him with a cool impersonal stare.
        He held her look without speaking. She knew it was some sort of test to see who would be the first to look away, but as much as she wanted to escape that brooding mysterious gaze she hold on, not even allowing herself to blink.
   His eyes went to her mouth and lingered there.
   Bryony felt an almost irresistible urge to run her tongue over the parchment of her lips but fought against the impulse with every fibre of her being. So great was the effort to appear unaffected by his disturbing presence she began to feel the hammer-blows of a tension headache gathering at her temples, and her resentment towards him went up another notch.
        Finally she could stand it no longer.
        She got agitatedly to her feet and, crossing her arms over her chest, faced him determinedly.
      'OK. Let's skip the weather and the current cricket score and get right down to why you are here.'
       He held her defiant glare for another pulsing pause. 'I thought it was time I paid the Mercer family a visit.'
      'I can't imagine why. You're not exactly on the Christmas card list any more.'
    His mouth thinned in what she recalled was his version of a smile. 'Not, I imagine not.'
      She forced her eyes away from the jagged edge of his scar, surprised at how it still affected her to see it after all this time.
      He looked fit and strong, as if he was no stranger to hard physical exercise, and his skin was tanned, but then, she reminded herself, his maternal Greek heritage had always given him somewhat of an advantage in the summer sun. Standing before him now, her creamy skin seemed so pale in spite of the intolerably hot weather they'd been having since Christmas four weeks ago.
     'How is your mother?'she felt compelled to ask out of common politeness.
     'She's dead.'
Bryony blinked at his bluntness. 'I....I'm sorry....I hadn't heard....'
     His eyes glittered with hard cynicism. 'No,I expect the passing of a long-term servant wouldn't quite make it to the Mercer breakfast table, let alone as a topic for discussion over lunch or dinner 
          The bitterness of his words stung her as he clearly intended it to. As much as she hated admitting it, he was very probably right. Her parents would never discuss servants as if they were real people. She'd grown up with their attitudes, had even demonstrated simiy ones herself, but as she had grown older had shied away from maintaining such outdated snobbery.
    Not that she was going to let him know that.
    No, let him think her the spoilt brat heiress of the Mercer millions.