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intended.
    His dark eyes met hers and emotion flared between them; they were on dangerous ground.
    'That,' he said, still holding her gaze, 'is a wild statement. Substantiate it.'
    'A diversity of viewpoints. We don't really speak the same language, a subject we have already touched on this evening.'
    'Your conception of me is a challenge,' he warned her. 'One you tempt me to accept.'
    His words echoed between them, making them physically conscious of each other and aware that their truce hung by a frail thread.
    She wondered how many other women he had brought to the Manor and played with words until they became a temptation. Temptation ! The word had a dangerous significance and she realised that was exactly what he was: a man who could convey far more than he honestly felt. Wasn't it enough that he obviously was involved with Judy Meyhew and yet was ready to flirt with her, Emma, should she give him even the faintest encouragement? Hadn't he already kissed her? And wasn't she being naive to give any of it importance? They were out to dinner and this was all part of the scene.
    'I'm in no mood for a challenge,' she said coolly. 'A quiet, amiable truce goes well with the evening.'
    'You make it sound like a rice pudding instead of a soufflé.' There was a note of lightness in his voice.
    She wanted to suggest that he would excel at the soufflé, but was not sure enough of herself to take the conversation into deeper waters.
    Their gaze met above the rims of their glasses as they finished their champagne.
    'You're an enigma, Emma.'
    'Better that than an open book,' she cut back. She added, putting her glass down with a little deliberate gesture, 'I have nothing about which to be an enigma.' She stared him out. 'The same could not be said of you.'
    He gave her an indulgent smile.
    'If it pleases you to believe that.' His manner changed.
    There was a tension between them as the meal finished and he said, glancing at his watch, 'I have a late call to make. . .'
    Had that, she asked herself, anything to do with his telephoning earlier? She had only the gossip and the growing belief that he was involved with Judy Meyhew. Why was she so anxious to know the facts? What did it matter to her what their relationship was? Or even if it were more than purely professional?
    Pierre saw them out, discreet, charming. Emma felt that she had not been particularly gracious as she walked beside Adam to his car, conscious of his nearness and of his features etched against the moon. It was a warm night; a time for beginnings, not endings, she thought, and felt her body heat as emotion touched her like a flame. She felt the touch of his hand on her arm as she was about to get into the car seat, and for an instant their eyes met. She thought he was going to kiss her, so close was his face to hers, and she found that she was trembling. But instead of that he drew back and said, 'Thank you for this evening.'
    Her heart was thumping as he got in beside her and turned on the ignition. His manner was charming and polite; he might have already forgotten her presence.
    When finally he parted from her with a formal, 'Goodnight, Emma,' she watched him drive away, curiously depressed. Was he going to see Judy Meyhew?
     

CHAPTER FIVE
    It was two days later when Emma, shopping in the High Street, saw in the near distance Adam and Judy Meyhew going into the Castle Hotel, obviously for coffee. They were smiling at each other and radiated a certain excited happiness as though sharing some special item of news, or even a secret. She wondered what would happen were she to follow and force Adam to introduce her.
    At that moment a voice from behind her said, 'We are destined to meet like this!'
    Emma turned and looked into Ruth Templar's smiling eyes. For a second she stood there, incapable of thinking of anything more original to say than, 'Oh! Hello.' Then the words rushed out, 'I've just seen your brother and Dr Meyhew go into the Castle Hotel.' She gave the fact