Читать книгу Taming the Rebel Tycoon: Wife by Approval / Dating the Rebel Tycoon / The Playboy Takes a Wife - Элли Блейк, Ally Blake - Страница 10

DRAWING away with reluctance, Richard said, ‘We’d better go in before Hannah, who never misses a thing though she’s nearly eighty, comes out to see what could be keeping us.’

As he spoke, one leaf of the heavy studded door opened and a small woman, hardly bigger than a child, with a silver bun and a very straight back, appeared.

‘What did I tell you?’ he murmured, and left the car to come round and help Tina out.

In something of a daze, she picked up her shoulder bag and allowed herself to be led across the cobbles to where the old woman waited.

As they approached, the housekeeper, who was neatly dressed in old-fashioned black and wore a jet necklace and earrings, came forward to meet them.

‘Mr Richard…’ Her wizened face creased into a beam of pleasure. ‘Welcome home! Everything’s ready for you.

‘It seems to have turned a shade cooler and, as I know how much you like a good fire, I’ve had one lit in the living-room.’ Then, with genuine emotion, ‘It’s nice to have you back.’

‘It’s nice to be back, Hannah.’ His arm around Tina’s shoulders, he added, ‘This is the lady I told you about when I rang.’

Shrewd dark eyes, bright as a bird’s, acknowledged Tina’s smile and weighed her up. Then, apparently satisfied with what she saw, the housekeeper’s face relaxed into a smile. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Dunbar. If you need a ladies’ maid, please let me know.’

Hannah appeared to think they were staying and, before Richard could put her right, she went on, ‘I’ve ordered roast pheasant for dinner, which cook’s timing for seven-thirty if that suits you? But the kettle’s just boiled if you’d like a cup of tea in the meantime?’

‘We’d love one,’ he told her. ‘But get young Milly to do the running about.’

‘I must admit that these days I’m glad to,’ Hannah confessed. ‘Though I keep very well, thank the good Lord, I’m not as nimble on my feet as I used to be.’

But, as though to disprove those words, she led the way into the hall in a sprightly fashion and disappeared through a small door at the rear.

The panelled hall, with its black oak floorboards and huge stone fireplace, was furnished with lovingly polished antiques and lit by long, intricately leaded windows that bore the maker’s name and the date. On the right, an elegant oak staircase with a lion’s head on the newel post climbed to a small minstrels’ gallery.

Tina thought it was absolutely beautiful, but hesitated to say so. Even when Richard gave her an interrogative glance, she refrained from comment.

He turned to face her and, putting a hand against her cheek in an oddly remorseful gesture, remarked quietly, ‘I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to spoil it for you.’

Finding her voice, she said, ‘You haven’t. I’m enjoying it all very much.’

‘But afraid to say so?’

‘A little wary,’ she admitted.

‘Please don’t be.’He bent his head and kissed her lightly on the lips, making her pulses leap, before going on, ‘These rooms off the hall form the main living area. The breakfast room, the morning room, the formal dining-room…’As he spoke he led her round the hall, opening doors to show glimpses of beautiful old rooms with wood-panelled walls and period furniture.

‘The library-cum-study,’ he went on, ‘is the only room where the twenty-first century has been allowed to hold unreserved sway…’

Glancing in, Tina saw a pleasant room with book-lined walls and an oak-panelled ceiling. Ranged on an impressive leather-topped desk was a businesslike computer and an array of up-to-date communication equipment.

‘And next door is the living-room…’ A hand at her waist, he led her into a beautifully proportioned room with panelled walls and a white ceiling. Once again the leaded windows that looked across the courtyard were a work of art executed and signed by a master craftsman.

Most of the furniture was antique and bore the glorious patina of age, but the soft natural leather suite grouped around the inglenook fireplace was up-to-date and comfortable-looking.

A log fire blazed cheerfully in the grate, a grandfather clock tick-tocked in the corner and flowers and photographs made the room feel lived-in and homely.

This time Tina said without hesitation, ‘What a lovely room.’

He gave her the kind of smile that made her heart turn over. ‘I’m glad you like it.’

‘And not a television in sight,’ she added quizzically, remembering the comments he’d made the previous evening.

His smile widened into a grin. ‘It wasn’t easy to bring in modern technology without spoiling the atmosphere. But voilà!’

Sliding aside the doors of a large and handsome oak cabinet, he revealed a state-of-the-art television, a video, a DVD player and a comprehensive music centre.

‘All the trappings of modern-day entertainment,’ he said a shade wryly, ‘though blessedly not on view unless they’re in use.’

They had just settled themselves by the fireside when there was a tap at the door and a young maid brought in a tray of tea and cake.

‘Thanks, Milly,’ Richard said. Adding, ‘We’ll pour our own.’

While Tina sat in front of the fire, he helped her to tea in a delicate china cup and a slice of homemade fruit cake, before sitting down opposite.

Though the setting seemed relaxed and homely, the silence companionable, there was still an undercurrent of sexual tension that rasped along her nerves like rough silk and, as she sipped her tea, she watched him surreptitiously.

Leaning back, his long legs stretched towards the hearth, he looked completely at his ease and she envied his cool detachment.

Glancing up, he caught her eye.

Her colour rising, she looked hastily away.

Hiding a smile, he said conversationally, ‘Tell me something; if you had no intention of taking the job, why did you agree to come?’

Her flush deepening, she confessed, ‘I wanted to see the castle.’

‘Ah,’ he murmured softly.

‘I’m sorry. I suppose it was a waste of your time.’

‘Not at all,’ he denied. ‘I’ve enjoyed the day.’

‘So have I,’ she admitted. Then, reminding herself that it was something she had to do, she added, ‘But I really ought to be getting back before too long. I’ve still got to find a hotel.’

Softly he said, ‘After last night I was rather hoping you’d change your mind and stay with me.’

‘Last night was a mistake,’ she told him jerkily. ‘If I hadn’t had too much to drink…’

‘And this morning?’

‘That was a mistake too,’ she insisted. ‘I should never have let it happen.’

She sounded as if she meant it and he sighed inwardly. So much for trying to make sure she stayed. He could swear she still wanted him, but for some reason she was now playing hard to get.

He wondered why she was bothering. Was it possible that she was hoping for more than just an affair? Hoping to make him keen enough to get seriously involved?

In the past he’d frequently been the target for gold-diggers and women who were trying to land a rich husband, though usually they had gone about it in a different way.

However, if that was her aim and he moved with care, it could fit in nicely with his own plans.

The only thing he couldn’t allow her was time…

When he remained silent, angry with herself for being weak enough to come, she said, ‘If you were intending to stay here, as your housekeeper seems to think, I can always get a taxi back.’

It would cost a fortune but, having got herself into this mess…

‘My dear Valentina,’ he drawled, ‘I haven’t the slightest intention of allowing you to get a taxi. If you insist on going back, I’ll take you myself.’

Uncomfortably, she said, ‘Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind?’

‘Of course I don’t mind. I’m at your disposal. But, as you came to see the castle, it would be a shame to start back without taking a look at it, so I suggest a guided tour of the place and then dinner before we think of leaving. What do you say?’

There was only one thing she could say, and she said it. ‘Thank you very much—that sounds lovely.’

‘Sure your ankle will stand it?’

‘Quite sure.’

‘Then let’s go.’

Leaving her bag where it was, she accompanied him across the hall and along a wide stone corridor.

‘It’s beginning to get dusk,’ he remarked, ‘so I suggest that, before we start the tour proper, we go up to the gatehouse, where there’s a nice view across the park to the oval lake.’

As they began to climb the spiralling stone stairway, lit by candle bulbs in metal sconces, the air coming through the embrasures felt distinctly fresh and she half wished she had her coat, which she’d left in the car along with her case.

She found the gatehouse, with its huge stone fireplace and garderobe, fascinating, and lingered there for a while imagining what it must have been like when it was occupied. Only the realisation that time was flying and there was lots more to see made her move on.

Another flight of stone steps brought them to a small, thick, studded door, from which they emerged on to the roof of the gatehouse.

Tina glanced down into the courtyard, with its huge central well, now covered with a latticework of heavy metal, and, noticing that the Porsche was no longer there, remarked, ‘Your car’s gone.’

His voice casual, Richard said, ‘Mullins must have presumed we were staying and put it away.’

Then, seeing she looked uneasy, ‘Don’t let it worry you; it’s no major problem. After dinner, when we’re ready to go, I can ask for it to be brought round. Now, come and look at the view.’

Hung with blue veils of twilight, the view across the rolling park to the faintly shimmering oval of the lake, the darkening woods and, closer at hand, Daland Tower, was beautiful.

One arm lightly around her shoulders, he pointed a steady finger. ‘Over there, through a gap in the trees, you can just catch a glimpse of the lights of Farrington Hall. The O’Connells, who live there, are our nearest neighbours.’

The name O’Connell seemed oddly familiar, but it was a moment or two before Tina recalled that it had been a Helen O’Connell who had been trying to phone Richard the previous day.

It was a lovely evening and above the western horizon, where a pinky-gold afterglow was fading into greeny-blue, a single bright star shone.

Half under her breath, she murmured the jingle she remembered from childhood, ‘Starlight, star bright, first star I’ve seen tonight…’

‘The evening star,’ Richard said. ‘Are you going to wish on it?’

‘Why not?’ she agreed lightly. ‘Though I fear my wish might be unattainable.’

‘So might mine. But nothing ventured nothing gained, so let’s give it a try.’

Folding his arms around her, he drew her back against his hard, muscular body and held her there. Then, bending his head so that his cheek touched hers, he urged, ‘Wish away.’

Knees turned to water by his nearness, and only too aware that she might as well wish for the moon, she looked up at the glittering star and silently wished that one day Richard might come to care for her.

After a little while when, rooted to the spot by the feel of his slightly roughened cheek against hers, she continued to stand quite still, he debated whether to make his move now.

Deciding the time wasn’t right, he straightened and said prosaically, ‘We’d better get on with the tour, otherwise we’ll be late for dinner.’

Like someone in a dream, she turned to walk back the way they had come.

‘Careful on the stairs,’ he warned and, an arm at her waist, guided her somewhat uncertain steps back down the stone stairway and thence to the passageway, to begin their tour proper.

Her first impression on seeing Anders had been that it was a gem of a place and that was amply confirmed as he showed her over it.

A picturesque castle with towers and turrets, secret passages and deep cellars, its own serenely beautiful little chapel with a resident priest, it was something very special. The fact that it was also a home made it rare indeed.

As they returned to the hall, glancing at his watch, Richard suggested, ‘If you’d like to freshen up before dinner…?’

‘Oh, yes, please.’

Having escorted her up the main staircase and past the minstrels’ gallery, he opened a door on the right and ushered her inside a spacious suite, with a bedroom and bathroom either side of a central sitting-room.

‘This suite was used by my parents when my father was alive,’ he told her. ‘My mother had this room as a den, to “sit and cogitate” as she put it, and deal with her correspondence.

‘That’s her escritoire.’He pointed to a small, exquisitely proportioned writing desk. ‘It was made in the reign of QueenAnne.’

‘It’s absolutely beautiful,’ Tina said, coming to take a closer look.

‘My mother loved it. Apparently as a child she was fascinated by the fact that it has a secret drawer.

‘When she came of age, her grandmother gave it to her as a twenty-first birthday present and she used it for the rest of her life.

‘After my father died, and Mother remarried, these rooms were kept for my use when I visited the castle. Though Mother continued to use the sitting-room…

‘This is the master bedroom…’

The master bedroom—simple yet grand, with its panelled walls and polished oak floorboards—had fine furniture and a handsomely carved four-poster bed with a scarlet and gold canopy.

‘And this is the guest room…’

The guest room was equally spacious and beautiful, with period furniture and a four-poster bed with a dark blue tester.

One of the first things Tina noticed was that her coat and case had been brought up and placed on a low blanket chest.

Though Richard must have noticed it too, he made no comment. He merely went on, ‘At one time this room was used as a dressing room. It was Mother’s idea to make it into a guest bedroom, in case I wanted to bring a friend. Though I never did,’ he added wryly.

Indicating the guest bathroom, he asked, ‘How long do you need? Will fifteen minutes be enough?’

‘Ample, thank you.’

‘Then I’ll have a quick shower and shave and wait for you in the hall.’ He turned away.

Remembering the intimacy of that morning, she felt a queer sense of loss and disappointment. But she recognised that it was her attitude that was responsible for the change in him. She had altered things by her refusal to get involved any further.

Biting her lip, she went into an ivory and peach tiled bathroom which was not only well-equipped but sumptuous in the extreme, with a shelf full of luxurious toiletries, a couple of towelling robes and a pile of big soft towels.

It was in marked contrast to the bathroom in Ruth’s bedsit, which was small and dingy, with a rusty boiler, a cracked sink and a shower stall that leaked.

When Tina had finished showering and dried herself, she wondered whether or not to change. Perhaps Richard wouldn’t bother as they were going straight back to London after they’d eaten?

But a suit and flat-heeled shoes seemed all wrong for dining in a castle, and as her case was handy…

After a quick sort through what few clothes she had brought, she decided on a silky dress the purply-blue of heliotrope and, her ankle having so far stood the strain, a pair of high-heeled court shoes.

As she stood in front of an elegant cheval-glass to brush and re-coil her hair, she saw the four-poster reflected in it and imagined her friend’s reaction to a bedroom like this.

Thinking about Ruth, it struck Tina what a lot she would have to tell her on Monday.

Only there were some things she couldn’t even tell Ruth. Things that were far too intimate, far too precious, to talk about to anyone.

Sighing, she gazed into the mirror. Her eyes looked big and dark with secrets, her cheeks and lips a little pale.

With eyebrows and lashes that were naturally several shades darker than her hair, she didn’t need mascara, but some blusher and a touch of lip gloss would improve things enormously.

Her small cosmetic case was in her bag and she toyed with the idea of slipping downstairs to fetch it, before deciding there wasn’t really time.

Ready to go down, she debated whether or not to take her coat and case with her. But in the end she put her coat over her arm and left her case where it was. No doubt Richard would ask whoever had taken it up to fetch it down again.

Though she was in good time, as she descended the stairs she saw that he was waiting for her in the hall. He had not only showered and shaved but had changed into a well-cut dinner jacket.

He looked heart-stoppingly virile and handsome and she felt all quivery inside to think what might have happened if, rather than going back to London, she’d been staying here.

But she wasn’t staying, she reminded herself sharply. As soon as dinner was over they were leaving for town.

Stepping forward, he took her hand. ‘You look delightful. That colour exactly matches your eyes.’

A shade awkwardly, she said, ‘I wasn’t sure whether you’d bother changing.’

Relieving her of her coat, he put it over a dark oak settle and tucked her hand through his arm. ‘Given the circumstances, I wouldn’t, only Mullins had laid everything out ready for me and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

‘Now, how about a pre-dinner drink in the study?’

‘A drink?’ She sounded as horrified as she felt.

Glancing at her, he burst out laughing.

He had a nice laugh, deep and infectious. ‘If you could see your face!’ Still smiling, he went on, ‘I don’t blame you for being wary, but I promise I was going to suggest something innocuous. A small sherry at the most. Nothing that would induce a hangover.’

‘Thank heaven for that,’ she said with feeling. And thought that with his tawny eyes still gleaming with amusement and his lean cheeks creased with laughter lines, he was totally irresistible.

He led her to the library-cum-study, where a cheerful log fire burnt in the grate and a drinks trolley waited.

‘So what’s it to be?’

Taking a seat by the fire, she said, ‘I’ll have that small sherry, please.’

‘Cream or dry?’

‘Dry.’

When he’d handed her a glass he sat down opposite and smiled at her.

‘Aren’t you having a drink?’

‘As I’ll be driving shortly, I’d better stick to a glass of wine with the meal.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I feel guilty.’

‘There’s really no need. You made it clear from the start that you intended to go back to town and book into a hotel. I was just hoping that when you saw Anders you might change your mind.

‘If you don’t like the idea of sharing my bed,’ he went on, ‘you could always sleep in solitary state in the guest room.’

She was sorely tempted. But if she agreed to stay and he turned on the heat, could she trust herself to hold out against him?

As he waited for her answer, he decided that if this gamble didn’t come off he would have to use delaying tactics until he found some other way to keep her here. Without rousing her suspicions.

When still she hesitated he asked, ‘Have you ever slept in a four-poster bed in a castle?’

Silently she shook her head.

‘Then why don’t you try it?’ he said persuasively. ‘It would be a new experience.’

Through lips that felt oddly stiff, she said, ‘No, I’d rather stick to my original plan,’ and braced herself to withstand an onslaught.

But, to her surprise, he gave in immediately and with good grace. ‘Very well. If that’s really what you want…’

Seeing that surprise and knowing he needed to disarm her, he added in a businesslike tone, ‘With regard to a hotel, I suggest the Rochester on Crombie Street. It’s far from luxurious, but it’s pleasant and central and not too expensive.’

‘That sounds fine,’ she agreed. ‘As we’ll be late back, it might be as well if I fetch my bag and give them a ring now.’

Damn! he thought. So much for trying to disarm her.

As she started to rise, he pressed her gently back. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll talk to reception while you drink your sherry.’

He crossed to his desk and, picking up the phone, queried, ‘Shall I make it tonight and tomorrow?’

Already regretting her decision, but knowing it was the right one, she said huskily, ‘Please.’

Depressing the receiver rest, he pretended to make the booking.

While she listened, and watched his broad back, she wondered what had made him give in so easily.

The answer came swiftly. Though it would no doubt have suited him if she had stayed, it was obviously of no great importance. If she wasn’t willing, there must be plenty of women who were.

But she wasn’t cut out for affairs. She couldn’t treat sex lightly, or as just another appetite to be indulged, as most men and a lot of today’s women seemed able to do.

If Richard had been an ordinary man and she and he had been in love with each other and intending to stay together, it would have been different.

But he wasn’t, and they weren’t.

And, no matter how much she wanted him, her pride, her self-respect, insisted that she shouldn’t let herself be swept up and then discarded at a rich man’s whim…

‘All settled,’ he said, replacing the receiver and returning to his chair by the fire.

‘Thank you.’In the end he’d been very civilized about it and she was grateful.

Though she couldn’t regret coming to Anders—it would always shine in her memory—she was guiltily aware that, despite his earlier polite denial, he would no doubt regard it as a wasted day.

As though reading her mind, he said, ‘I hope you’re not sorry you came to the castle?’

‘No, I’m not. I’ve loved being here and seeing over it. The only thing I am sorry about is that I’ve wasted your day.’

‘I can assure you I don’t regard it as a wasted day. Apart from enjoying your company, which I do very much, it’s a pleasure to have someone here who genuinely likes the old place…’

When her sherry was finished, he led the way to a long white-walled dining-room where a refectory table was beautifully set with fine linen, crystal glasses and fresh flowers.

Throughout an excellent meal, as though to put her at her ease, he played the suave host, talking easily about the history of the castle and the Anders family. ‘At one time the estate supported a lot of tenant farmers and labourers who owed their allegiance to the family…’

With a little crooked smile that made her heart start to beat faster, he went on, ‘It all sounds a bit feudal, doesn’t it?’

‘It does rather.’

‘But, from what I’ve read in the archives, most of the Anders were good overlords and their serfs and vassals—some of the descendants of whom still live on the estate—were well-treated.’

‘How big is the present-day estate?’

He told her, adding, ‘It used to be considerably larger. But, before my great-grandfather went into banking, the need to raise money for taxes and death duties had meant selling off certain of the more lucrative areas.

‘Luckily there was plenty to go at. The family, who were staunch Royalists, had been given huge tracts of land for their loyalty to the Crown.’

‘What happened when Cromwell came to power?’

‘It could well have been the end of them all. But when, after the battle of Worcester, a lot of Royalist strongholds were laid waste, because one of Cromwell’s closest friends and allies had married Lady Eleanor Anders, the castle and its occupants were mercifully spared…’

As soon as their coffee was finished, Tina—who had been psyching herself up to mention leaving—was about to speak when Richard forestalled her by asking, ‘About ready to go?’

‘I’ll just get my coat and bag.’

‘While you do that I’ll ring for Mullins to bring your case down and fetch the car round.’

She had just collected her belongings when Richard appeared and said, ‘I’m afraid Mullins is out at the moment, but his wife is expecting him back in half an hour or so…’

‘Oh,’ Tina said a little blankly. ‘But can’t we—’

‘It seems,’ Richard added smoothly, ‘that he has the car keys in his pocket and unfortunately I’ve left the spare set in town.’

Before she could think of anything to say, he went on, ‘As it’s a beautiful moonlit night, I suggest that, rather than just sitting indoors waiting for him, we take a stroll along the battlements.’

Helping her into her coat, he added, ‘We may be lucky enough to see our resident ghost.’

Distracted, she exclaimed, ‘A ghost?’

‘Have you ever seen a ghost?’

She shook her head. ‘Have you?’

‘No,’ he admitted.

‘I’m not sure I believe in them.’

‘But are you sure you don’t? There are quite a few sightings of Mag mentioned in the archives.’

‘Mag?’

‘Today we’d say Maggie, but apparently in the Middle Ages the short form Mag was common.’

Opening the top drawer of a walnut bureau, he took out a pencil torch and slipped it into his pocket. ‘Come along then, and I’ll tell you all about her as we go.’

Wondering why he needed a torch on a moonlit night, she allowed herself to be escorted to the east tower. There, they climbed the spiralling stone steps and at the top emerged on to the battlements.

The sky was a deep velvety blue with a huge silver disk of moon hanging above the eastern rim of trees. Though it looked shimmering and insubstantial as any mirage, its pale ethereal light was almost as bright as day, yet strangely eerie.

In this kind of setting, she could almost imagine seeing a ghost.

As they started to stroll along the walls, the scented air cool and silky against her face, she shivered a little with nervous excitement.

‘Cold?’ he asked.

‘No, not really.’

He put an arm around her all the same and she found herself glad of it.

‘You were going to tell me about your ghost,’ she prompted as they walked on.

‘According to the legend, Mag was the beautiful and chaste young daughter of Lord Anders’s household steward. She fell madly in love with Sir Gerwain, the son of a neighbouring nobleman.

‘He told her he loved her and promised that when his elderly father died and he was his own master, he would marry her. They used to meet in Daland Tower, away from prying eyes, and on moonlit nights he would ride over to keep their trysts.

‘Mag used to climb up to the battlements to watch for him and when she saw him coming she would slip down a hidden stairway to the cellars and take a secret passage that comes out inside the tower.’

Frowning, Tina asked, ‘But what about the moat?’

‘The passage runs beneath the moat. It’s quite a clever bit of construction.’

With a grin, he added, ‘As a boy, it used to be my escape route if I wanted to leave the castle without anyone knowing.’

‘Is it still there?’

‘Certainly. I could take you through it now if—’

‘Oh, yes, please,’ she broke in eagerly. It would be another unique memory.

He frowned. ‘What about those heels?’

‘Is it very rough?’

‘A bit tricky in parts, but not a great deal worse than the climb up here.’

‘In that case I can manage perfectly well.’

‘You don’t suffer from claustrophobia?’

‘No.’

‘Then let’s go.’He shepherded her to the west tower, where a low door at the head of the stairway gave on to what appeared to be a short dead-end passage, until his torch showed up a small opening on the left.

‘It isn’t lit, so I’d better lead the way.’

Stooping a little, the torch lighting up the rough stone, they descended a small stairway hidden in the thickness of the wall until the steps gave way to a low tunnel.

‘Go carefully through here,’ he warned.

Cramped and narrow, built of old brick with an arched roof, the tunnel sloped downwards for a while before levelling out.

The air was unpleasantly dank, the walls black in parts and slimy to the touch, the hard-packed earth floor decidedly damp and slippery.

Tina was just thinking that she wouldn’t be sorry when they reached the end, when the torch flickered and went out, leaving them in total darkness.

She gave an involuntary gasp and stood quite still. After a second or two she heard a movement and, needing reassurance, reached out to touch him.

But her searching hand found nothing and, in the silence, the terrifying thought popped into her head that he had walked away and abandoned her in this Stygian blackness.