Page 42 of Vows of Revenge

He gave a shrug. ‘It just means use,’ he said.

‘Precisely,’ she answered.

He shook his head. ‘There’s a difference between using opportunities to one’s advantage and using people to one’s advantage...making use of them.’

‘I suppose so,’ she allowed.

Her thoughts strayed back to that exchange with him at Blenheim, over the implications of another word—ambition. Like ‘exploit’, and ‘use’, ‘ambition’ was another word she was wary of, associating them too much with her father.

But Damos is nothing like him!she retaliated.

He would never make use of other people to his own advantage. Hadn’t he told her, that day at Blenheim, that he’d made his money honestly? She should trust that declaration—he would never do anything underhand, exploit others, take advantage of them, use them for his own ends. Her thoughts darkened. Totally unlike her father, who never bothered with people he could not make use of, or who were not useful to him.

She was glad that at that moment there was a knock on the door and then Mrs MacFadyen was coming in, wheeling an old-fashioned wooden tea trolley. Yet again she had done them proud, with fresh bannocks, potato scones, toasted tea cakes and an array of jams and rich butter. If that left any room, there was a plate of crisp shortbread and a freshly baked Dundee cake, glistening with cherries and laden with almonds.

Damos was rubbing his hands in happy anticipation, praising her efforts and thanking Mrs MacFadyen enthusiastically with his ready smile. The stout, middle-aged Scotswoman was no more immune to Damos’s charm than any female, and bridled with pleasure at his fulsome compliments.

‘Och, get away with you!’ she told him, bustling from the room.

Kassia smiled affectionately at Damos. She tried to imagine her father even thanking Mrs MacFadyen, let alone bothering to compliment her.

He and Damos are complete opposites—totally different in character.

She couldn’t even make allowances for their differences arising from the origins of their respective wealth. Both men were self-made—her father and Damos—but there the similarities ended. Her father was ruthless, always using other people for his own ends—if he could, he’d have used her, his own daughter. She knew that bitterly well.

Damos is nothing like him—nothing!

It warmed her to think so.

‘OK, what is that phrase in English? Are you going to “be mother”?’ Damos was asking her.

And, again, it was a welcome interruption of thoughts she did not want to have.

She reached for the teapot—silver and elegant—and filled their cups—fine porcelain. The renting of this castle was not coming cheap, that was for sure. As well as the castle itself, furnished with antiques and luxuriously appointed, there was the lavish fare provided by Mrs MacFadyen, as well as the ‘extras’ on offer from her husband.

She and Damos had already ticked off fly-fishing and boating on the loch, as well as putting their four-by-four through its offroad paces on a tough, unmade track into the forest. Damos had driven—with Duncan to guide him—and obviously enjoyed it hugely, while Kassia had hung on for dear life. Duncan had taken them bird watching, too—Damos had been smug about finally spotting a golden eagle soaring way over the mountaintop—and even deer stalking, though both she and Damos had made it clear that they were just going to stalk, not shoot. Kassia was conscious that that was somewhat hypocritical, considering the delicious venison dishes that appeared at the dinner table...

As for dinner—Mrs MacFadyen did them proud there, too, every night, and Damos and Kassia responded accordingly. Though they dressed down for their activities in the day—their newly bought walking kit was seeing a lot of use—at night Kassia delighted in dressing the part for Damos. He put on his tux, and she the pale blue chiffon evening gown he’d insisted on buying her in London—along with an array of well-cut co-ordinates that flattered, rather than concealed, her tall figure.

Now, with the wonderful new confidence in herself that Damos had released in her, she knew that for the first time in her life she could really enjoy wearing fashionable clothes, making the most of herself instead of the least. And to that end, every night here in the Highlands, she made up her face for the evening and dressed her hair elegantly, glowing inside as Damos’s admiring eyes rested on her.

Then she would take his gallantly proffered arm and walk down the imposing flight of stairs beside him, sweeping into the drawing room for pre-dinner drinks and then taking their places at either end of the polished oak table in the adjacent dining room, laden with silver and crystal, shimmering in the candlelight. There, they would await the arrival not of dinner, but of the piper who would announce it. He was Duncan’s nephew, and he would march into the dining room in full Highland regalia, the music of the pibroch filling the room.

After he’d retired, dinner would follow hard on his heels. With vintage wines, rich dishes and traditional Scottish desserts, they dined sumptuously—Kassia had swiftly become a fan of Scottish raspberries, heather honey, toasted oatmeal and whisky cream whipped up into cranachan.

And finally, after heading back upstairs, her hand once more on Damos’s arm, she would be escorted to their bedchamber. And there, with a sensuous skill that sent her into helpless meltdown every time, he would let his fingertips glide over her skin, arousing, touch by touch, all the sweet, sweet fire that he always so wondrously elicited from her and set glowing in every tremulous cell of her body.

To make her his.

Consummately, consumingly his...

And he is mine—oh, he is mine.

Because he was. Surely he was? How could it be otherwise when every night she held him as close to her as he held her to him? His heart beat against hers; hers beat against his. As if it could never be any different.

And in those precious hours—in the sweet, slow watches of the night—how could she not think, hope, believe what every passing day, every passionate night, was telling her.

I am falling in love with him.

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