Читать книгу 8 Magnificent Millionaires - Кэтти Уильямс, Cathy Williams - Страница 10

SITTING at the table, her mug of hot milk cradled warmly in her hands, Liadan glanced briefly at Adrian in the chair opposite, trying desperately to come to terms with the strong sensation of intimacy that frighteningly seemed to flow between them.

‘What do you want to know?’ she asked quietly.

‘How long have you lived in the village? It’s strange I’ve never seen you there before.’ If he’d seen her he certainly would have remembered her…

‘I’ve been around. I moved here three-and-a-half years ago. Before that I lived in Dorset with my mother. She lives in Spain now.’

‘Why didn’t you go into the hotel business when you left Dorset? Why did you go to work in an esoteric bookshop, of all places?’ He was smiling, but this time not mockingly. Liadan sensed the tension in her stomach ease a little.

‘There aren’t many hotels in the local vicinity and those I tried didn’t have any vacancies at the time. My friend Mel has a friend called Jennie who owned the shop and was looking for someone to help out. As luck would have it, Mel’s boyfriend owns the local estate agent’s, and he helped me get my mortgage on my cottage when I decided to move here.’

‘And this Mel? She lives in the village too?’

‘That’s why I moved here. We’ve known each other since we met on holiday when we were kids.’ Liadan took a sip of the fragrant creamy milk laced with nut-meg and experienced a rush of surprise that Adrian had made it so perfectly. There was something highly personal about him making it for her—something that very definitely blurred the lines of employer and employee, and made their relationship suddenly far more intimate.

‘So…you’ve been here three and a half years and you’re still alone?’

‘Alone?’

‘No significant other?’ Taking a slug of whisky, Adrian made a face as the fiery spirit scorched the back of his throat, then put down his glass and fastened his slow, deliberate gaze on Liadan’s face with deepening interest. Her throat convulsed a little, and her grasp on her mug tightened.

‘There was someone,’ she admitted softly. ‘We were going to be married but things between us didn’t work out.’

‘You decided the married state wasn’t for you after all?’

Her heart beating an uneasy tattoo and, unsure of how much to reveal, Liadan shrugged the comment aside and forced herself to continue. ‘No. The man I was involved with had a conflict of priorities. It was either me or his calling to the Church. In the end the Church won hands down. I don’t blame him. He had a right to follow his heart.’

‘And you loved this man?’ Adrian’s voice sounded like whisky and cigarettes and Liadan found that, as much as she desperately needed to, it was nigh on impossible to break away from the burning intensity in his eyes.

‘I…I thought I did.’ Shrugging her slim shoulders, because there was a wealth of soul-searching behind that statement that she couldn’t begin to explain, Liadan looked pained. It was enough to know that she’d analysed her behaviour deeply and with enough regularity to write a psychology book. ‘I don’t know if I was actually “in love” with Michael. He was solid and reliable and at the time I thought I needed that.’ Until he’d started to dictate what she could or couldn’t do, that was.

Feeling as though she had to qualify her statement, particularly what she knew must sound like a complete lack of affection for the man she had been engaged to, Liadan found words spilling from her lips that she hadn’t meant to say. ‘My father died, you see. I was very insecure after that for a while. He’d appeared so healthy and strong up until his heart attack, and my mother and I had no notion that anything was wrong. It’s scary when someone you love suddenly isn’t there any more, and we’d always been so close. When he died I was quite lost for a while. Well…for a long time, actually. When Michael came along I suppose he picked that up. In a way he liked the idea of rescuing me, I think. He was very much a man who liked to take charge and he wanted me to defer to him in practically everything—even down to the friends I had. As soon as that started happening I should have known that things would never work out. Anyway…in the end I was relieved he made the decision he did.’ She paused, feeling slightly ridiculous for revealing so much, for allowing herself to expose her failings and vulnerability to a man like Adrian who, with his cynicism about the world, probably took it as read that relationships didn’t work out—period.

‘I wonder if he still believes he made the right choice?’ Before Liadan could answer the question, Adrian slid the palm of his hand across her fingers gripping the mug of hot milk, his touch all but scorching her. His skin was smooth and warm and incredibly erotic and for brief seconds such a longing swept over Liadan that she couldn’t do anything other than stare deeply into his eyes and let the feeling take her. Her heart slamming against her ribs, she told herself he meant it as a consoling gesture and it was nothing to get worked up about. But somehow her wildly racing heart refused to listen. He must have access to a kind of magic to instil that much magnetism and that much sensation into just one simple brush of his skin against hers, Liadan thought frantically, staring at him in fright.

‘I’m sure he does. Why shouldn’t he?’

She shot out of her chair, milk slopping out of her mug onto the table, jarred by the suddenness of her movement. Feeling hot colour pour into her cheeks, she swung round in disarray to search for a mopping-up cloth.

‘Do you really have to ask why a man wouldn’t choose an austere celibate life over being with you, Liadan?’ Getting to his feet, Adrian held her gaze for a brief but ignitable couple of seconds before silently locating a dishcloth, wringing it out and mopping up the spill in the middle of the table with quiet efficiency. Watching him, Liadan was mesmerised by the ease with which he moved his fit, muscular body, his movements unconsciously and devastatingly sexy to her hungry eyes, the space he inhabited the compelling focus of her complete and undivided attention.

‘Please don’t get the idea that sleeping with me was any kind of inducement. As far as Michael was concerned I was…tarnished because I had slept with a boyfriend before.’ Looking down at the floor, Liadan wished she didn’t still feel humiliated by her ex’s judgemental opinion and rejection. ‘Besides, I don’t think church life is as austere as all that nowadays. At least I hope not. Michael likes his comforts.’ She knew she was babbling. She always talked too much when she was nervous and Adrian Jacobs made her very nervous. Lifting her head, Liadan saw that his deliberate dark gaze was examining her with what appeared to be concern in their liquid depths, and she worryingly sensed her equilibrium coming undone. Clutching at the collar of her robe, she tried for a smile but somehow couldn’t get the necessary muscles to assist her. ‘Thank you for clearing up the spill. I should have done that.’

‘So what are you telling me, Liadan? That you and this Michael never actually made love?’

‘I think he was waiting for the day when God would personally come down and absolve me of my sins in front of him. He wanted a guarantee that I was good enough.’ Her soft mouth twisted with painful humour.

‘The man must have been insane.’ Adrian shook his head in clear disbelief and Liadan felt a surge of wild gratitude for his vote of confidence.

‘I shouldn’t have disturbed you,’ she said breathlessly. For a long, unsettling moment, Adrian just stared. Then he shook his head as if coming to a decision.

‘Go back to bed and get some rest. We both have to be up early.’

Liadan couldn’t deny her heartfelt disappointment.

‘You were drowning your sorrows and all I did was talk about me.’

‘I asked you to talk about yourself, remember?’

Adrian wished she would just turn around and leave. In the past few minutes he had become too consumed by the power of her femininity—of all the beguiling attributes that no red-blooded male could fail to notice, starting with her incredible eyes. Her ex-boyfriend either had a will of iron where Liadan’s attractions were concerned, or he must have been taking passion-killing drugs to sedate desire, because Adrian couldn’t believe that any man could gaze at the woman and not be so turned on that it hurt. And if it was true that a person’s eyes reflected their soul, then Liadan’s must be as pure and unsullied as water from a crystal well, he surmised with feeling. Because when she trained them on him, all his sins came back with force to haunt him. He was a million miles away from such purity, especially when all he wanted to do right now was tear off her clothes and make violent, passionate love to her.

‘What about tomorrow?’ she asked tentatively, moving towards the door.

‘What about it?’

Aware of his deliberate cooling towards her after the stunning intimacy of the last few moments, Liadan felt her stomach churn with anguish. ‘Will you…will you be all right? With the reporters and everything?’

‘I’ll handle it. Just stay in the house and don’t venture out into the gardens unless it’s an emergency. After this, I’m going to be installing electronic gates at the end of the drive—something I should have attended to from the beginning. Now go to bed, Liadan. You look tired.’

Deliberately tearing his gaze from the concern in her eyes, Adrian threw the dishcloth into the sink and combed his fingers wearily through his thick dark hair. Instead of soothing him, the whisky he had imbibed had made him irritable and morose—more so now that Liadan was going back to bed. For a few unexpectedly bright moments there she had inspired feelings in him that he’d thought he’d crushed for ever. Feelings of warmth and the need to connect with another human being on a deeper level, not just surface chit-chat that said nothing and concealed everything. Liadan had ignited longings in him that made her a very dangerous woman indeed. A woman who, despite being hurt, still believed in the goodness in the world—who’d forgiven her foolish boyfriend for dumping her because he had a right to ‘follow his heart’.

Well, as far as Adrian was concerned, all the goodness in him had long been used up, because he wasn’t about to forgive himself for ultimately being the cause of Nicole’s death that day. And all because his ego had tricked him into believing he was somehow invincible—immune to threats of death and destruction. It had naturally followed that everyone connected to him had to be invincible too…

Turning her back reluctantly, Liadan told herself that those muscular broad shoulders of Adrian’s could handle whatever was troubling him right now. He’d survived this far without any help from her, hadn’t he? She just hoped that those reporters tomorrow wouldn’t give him too hard a time. Once they had their statement from Adrian’s solicitor, she prayed they would just pack up and leave as quickly as possible. She’d make something special for dinner tomorrow night, she decided, her spirits momentarily lifting. A wonderful meal wouldn’t solve his problems, but the care she put into preparing it might just convince him that someone cared about his well-being.

‘That was a first-rate cup of coffee, Liadan. Thank you. Now, Adrian, my friend, I think we’d better go and appease the wolves, don’t you?’

Edward Barry, Adrian’s solicitor, surprisingly turned out to be an attractive young man in his mid to late thirties, immaculately dressed in a beautiful Armani suit, his dark blond hair equally impeccably cut and styled. He had a twinkle in his eye that suggested to Liadan that he didn’t take himself too seriously, yet at the same time there was a distinct air of reliability about him—as if you could count on him not to let you down. Inwardly Liadan was hugely relieved. Adrian needed someone like Edward Barry on his side right now. The crush of reporters at the door was truly frightening to her inexperienced eye and she couldn’t wait for them to be gone. They’d been camping out in the gardens of the house since before dawn with their cars and their camera equipment, apparently immune to the now-slushy melting snow and the biting cold, clearly willing to endure any hardship in anticipation of coming face to face with their quarry.

Bending forward to clear the table of drained cups and saucers, Liadan briefly caught Adrian’s eye. It was hard to detect exactly what was going through his mind just then because his attractive face was carefully blank. She wanted to say ‘good luck’ or something like that but decided that it sounded too asinine. Like wishing someone good luck when they were about to be thrown to the lions, she silently reflected. So instead she just ventured a smile, hoping he knew that she prayed his encounter with the press wouldn’t be too awful or painful.

Adrian’s arresting dark eyes narrowed briefly, as if silently acknowledging her support, then without further preamble he opened the door and led his solicitor out of the kitchen.

Making herself return to the rooms on the second floor that needed vacuuming, Liadan headed straight for one of the two large windows in the first room that overlooked the front gardens, unable to resist taking a peek outside. The stone steps were covered in wall-to-wall people, all, it seemed, shouting Adrian’s name, demanding he look this way or that while cameras popped aggressively. Like a swarm of vultures fighting over a carcass. Her pulse racing, Liadan bit down on her thumb, the force of her teeth almost biting through the flesh. Anger, swift and powerful, roared through her blood at the sight that met her gaze. How dared they? How dared they invade his home like this, as if they had every right to storm in like some self-righteous marauding army? Surely they must know this whole sorry episode had been engineered by Petra Collins’ publicity machine, purely to make her look good and Adrian look bad?

Not even concerning herself with why she so readily believed Adrian’s side of the story, Liadan raised her hand to the window, letting her palm rest against the icy glass pane. Her ears strained to hear above the noise as Edward Barry’s impressive voice begged for quiet so that he could make a statement on Adrian’s behalf.

At the end of the statement, which was dignified yet blunt, and in no way stooped to denigrate Petra Collins either as a woman or as an actress, Edward led Adrian back inside and the crowd on the steps reluctantly started to disperse. Moving away from the window with a sigh, relieved that Adrian’s ordeal was for the moment at an end, Liadan switched on the vacuum cleaner to resume her work.

But as the harsh sound filled the formerly silent room she forced herself to remember that she was after all only Adrian Jacobs’ housekeeper and not even someone he might think of as a friend. She had no need and no right to concern herself unnecessarily about his welfare. But even though logic begged her to see sense, Liadan couldn’t prevent the helpless yearning that seemed to have taken root in her heart since their impromptu conversation in the kitchen last night. All she could do was pray that she would snap out of such foolishness soon…

At lunchtime she took Adrian coffee and sandwiches. As she rested the tray on top of the piano as usual Liadan glanced at him sidelong to try and gauge his mood. They hadn’t exchanged words since Edward Barry had left earlier, because Adrian had gone directly back to his study to work. Now as she watched him, his attention apparently wholly absorbed by what was on the computer screen in front of him, she marvelled at the fact that he could lose himself in his work so thoroughly when this morning he’d had to face that horrible unsettling scene on his doorstep.

‘How’s it going?’ Liadan surprised herself with the question. She hadn’t intended to ask it and, now that she had, she wished she hadn’t. Adrian turned his head to stare at her as if only just realising she was there.

‘Okay.’ He didn’t elaborate and Liadan knew it was probably a hint that she should not disturb him any further and leave. But somehow, because she had been so concerned about him, she couldn’t just leave things at that without satisfying herself that he really was okay. ‘No man is an island,’ the phrase went, and right now she surmised he could probably use a friend or two.

‘What’s the book about?’

As he shook his head slightly Adrian’s dark gaze became immediately guarded—as if he’d endured enough invasion into his privacy for one day and wouldn’t endure any more.

‘Why do you want to know?’

‘I’m interested.’

Folding her arms across her sky-blue sweater, Liadan smiled. Brave it out, she told herself. Don’t let him frighten you off with those foreboding dark glances of his.

‘You don’t like my books. There are no happy endings, remember? Only the inevitable conclusion that life is dark and ultimately dangerous and we’d better arm ourselves in any way we can to deal with it.’

‘That’s a very sad and pessimistic outlook, if you don’t mind my saying.’

Adrian shrugged. ‘You can say what you like. It’s the truth.’

‘No, it isn’t.’ Her passionate conviction that he was so wrong prevented Liadan from being more cautious. Feeling heat rush into her face, she forced herself to meet his suddenly hard, unflinching glance.

‘Life is what you make it. The old saying is true. If you believe everything is dark and dangerous and you should be prepared to meet the worst, then that’s what you’ll probably pull towards you. But if you nurture optimism and expect the best—then that’s what you’ll attract. I know you must have been hurt in the past and you’ve seen some things in your career that no one should ever have to witness, but you shouldn’t let it colour your future. Whatever happened.’

Pain cramped his throat as old, hurtful memories suddenly deluged him—in particular Nicole lying on that hard sun-baked sidewalk, her beautiful hair caked in blood…Adrian got up from his chair and paced angrily to the window. Just who the hell did this woman think she was, walking in here and telling him he shouldn’t let his past colour his future? She hadn’t even lived yet!

‘Do me a favour, will you? Keep your cosy little homilies about life to yourself, Liadan. I hired you to be my housekeeper—not my life coach. If I feel the need to converse with someone like that I’ll go and see a professional. Understood?’

Staring at his coldly handsome face as he glared back at her, Liadan tried bravely to field the hurt and embarrassment that washed over her. She’d only been trying to help—not fix his life. Did he really think she had the audacity to do that? She knew her own limitations. Her own life was hardly perfect. Yet, no matter what happened, she knew what she’d said was true. Life was what you made it…

‘I’m sorry you feel that way. I meant no offence, I was only trying to help.’

‘The best way you can help me is to remember what I hired you for. Do that and we’ll get along just fine.’

Having been put firmly in her place and knowing it was useless to say another word, Liadan nodded briefly, then turned and walked away. Just as her hand pushed at one of the double doors to open it she remembered something she’d been going to ask earlier but had forgotten. In the light of what had just transpired, the question seemed even more imperative.

‘I’ve got to go into the village this afternoon for some groceries. Would you mind if I took an extra half hour just to pop back to my cottage to check on things?’

‘No. That’s fine.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Liadan?’

‘What?’ Her back stiffening, she steeled herself against another admonition.

‘If you come across any reporters lurking about or trying to hassle you in any way, come straight back here, do you understand? Forget the groceries until tomorrow.’

‘I can deal with—’

‘No. You can’t. You have no idea what these people can be like. Just do as I say, will you?’

Emotion threatening to overwhelm her, Liadan bit her lip and nodded reluctantly. It would be a big mistake to imagine for even one second that he was concerned for her welfare. He was only trying to protect himself by suggesting she didn’t talk to reporters. Did he think she would tell them anything? Sad that there was obviously such a lack of trust, she hurried back down the corridor to the kitchen, suddenly desperate to be out in the fresh air and on her way to the village.

As soon as Liadan arrived at the cottage Jack Kempsey, her lovely elderly neighbour, came round with Izzy, the petulant long-haired Persian she had acquired from the Cats Protection League. As Liadan sank gratefully onto her overstuffed couch with its startling array of vividly bright cushions, her gaze drinking in the cosy front room that she had so missed these past few days, she cradled Izzy on her lap, her fingers stroking the silky fur with unashamed enjoyment.

‘I didn’t expect to see you so soon.’ Jack smiled. ‘Got time for a cup of tea before you go back, love?’

‘Oh, Jack, you’re a godsend! Yes, please. How has Izzy been behaving herself?’

‘You don’t need to worry about her, Liadan. She’s been spoiled rotten, she has! Comes over to me during the day to be fed and acts like the Queen of Sheba, then at night she comes back home through the cat-flap and acts like she’s guarding the place for you until you get back.’

‘That’s my girl.’ Tickling the contentedly purring feline beneath her chin, Liadan felt herself shrug off the tension of the morning. Coming home, even briefly, anchored her somehow, reminded her that if things didn’t work out up at the big house, then she still had a home to return to. No matter what happened, what kind of work she had to do, she would do it to keep this little house. It was her haven. ‘Drowsy Haunt’, it was named, and as soon as Liadan was back within its four walls all her cares and concerns seemed to melt away.

‘How are you finding it working up there with the writer fellow?’ Jack called from the kitchen.

On a scale from one to ten? Below zero…Liadan reflected silently. Then she pulled herself up short, reminding herself that it wasn’t all bad. It was a beautiful house to work in, the work was, on the whole, second nature, and Adrian Jacobs…could be worse. She let loose a wry laugh at that.

‘What did you say, love? I didn’t hear you.’ Popping his head round the door, Jack’s wrinkled brow creased in puzzlement.

‘I said it’s fine, Jack. Everything’s fine.’

‘Good. It does my heart good to see you smile again. When you were with that Michael fellow, I missed your smile.’

For the umpteenth time that afternoon Adrian glanced at his watch and for the umpteenth time was unable to suppress the sense of worry and anxiety that surged into his chest. Where was she? She’d been gone too long even if she had popped back home to her cottage. The perfectly made chicken sandwiches she’d brought him earlier lay curled up and uneaten on the plate and his coffee too had been left to grow cold and congeal in its brightly patterned cup and saucer. After the events of this morning and that scene with Liadan before she’d left to go to the village, the last thing Adrian could stomach was food. The darkly dramatic themes of his current work in progress, instead of exciting or enthusing him, just filled him with melancholy and a silent rage at the futility of his life that was growing daily. Why couldn’t he have been the one who’d been left waiting on the sidewalk when the bomb had gone off? Why had it had to be Nicole—vibrant, beautiful and only twenty-nine? She would have been his wife…the mother of his children.

Stalking restlessly from his study, Adrian headed to the kitchen and prowled there, noting the spotlessly clean worktops, meticulously swept floor and newly laundered tea towels folded neatly over the rail of the Aga—all signs that Liadan was completely professional and adept at doing her job. The job he’d hired her to do. He should feel gratified, he told himself. When he’d first seen her he’d doubted she would last a day, never mind impress him with her efficiency. And now he would do well to remember that she was only his housekeeper, not someone he could get close to, whom he might confide in—no matter how beguiling that gentle voice or how kind that beautiful face.

Tapping his fingers against the tabletop, Adrian couldn’t resist another glance down at his watch. Where the hell was she? She’d left the house over three hours ago and it was now black as tar outside. Had she been waylaid by the press and somehow persuaded to talk? Or had she simply decided to leave and not come back? Hating the idea and despising himself for dreading such a possibility, he went in search of his coat and, with a surge of energy that had so far been denied him that day, decided to find Liadan and bring her safely back home.