Читать книгу Sweet Betrayal - HELEN BROOKS, Helen Brooks - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

IN THE cold light of day Candy woke up to the knowledge that Cameron Strythe was holding all the aces and she hated Monday mornings! The school was always freezing owing to being unoccupied all weekend, and the huge, unsightly radiators that were so inefficient always took all day to get the place warm.

After fixing a light breakfast of toast and coffee she sat curled up on the sitting-room window-seat watching the rain pour down outside. ‘Come down to earth, girl,’ she muttered to herself as she sipped the hot liquid slowly. ‘You haven’t got an earthly against him.’ It would be the easiest thing in the world to close down the school; the council had been angling for it for years. It had only been Colonel Strythe’s influence on the various committees he attended, plus the big, fat allowance he made the school each year, that had kept it open this far, and obviously all that had come to an end.

‘Oh, Jasper...’ She allowed herself the brief indulgence of wallowing in self-pity for a few moments, her head buried in the warm, thick fur of the golden retriever, then squared her shoulders determinedly. Well, she might not be able to fight him with regard to the school, but she wouldn’t leave a stone unturned to make his victory as empty as possible.

‘Good morning, Miss Baker.’ For the second time since his return Cameron forced her to give an exclamation of surprise as she swung round from the blackboard mid-morning to see him standing just inside the classroom door. ‘I hope I’m not intruding?’ His eyes dared her to speak her mind with the children watching and expressed malicious satisfaction when she forced herself to speak pleasantly.

‘Not at all, Mr Strythe. What can I do for you?’

‘I just thought I would pop in and see you at work,’ he answered coolly. ‘I trust you have no objection.’

‘What a pity.’ Her eyes darted black fire, but her mouth was smiling for the little onlookers surveying them so interestedly. ‘It’s time for the children’s playtime.’ As she provided each child with a carton of milk and an apple, another of Colonel Strythe’s blessings, she was aware of Cameron taking note of the crumbling plaster and creaking floorboards, but ignored him pointedly. ‘It’s stopped raining, children. All out into the playground. Mrs Harris has just arrived.’

When the last child had left the room and she had checked that they were all safely in the small playground with Karen Harris, one of the mother-helpers, she turned to Cameron with a frankly hostile expression on her face. ‘Well?’

‘You know, you really do have the most charming way with you,’ he drawled slowly as he walked over to the empty picnic basket and flicked the lid with one finger. ‘And who provides this little service each day? And don’t tell me the council, because they gave free milk up years ago.’

‘It was never given up at this school,’ Candy answered coldly. ‘Your father always saw to it that the required number of cartons of milk and apples were delivered each morning.’

‘And who twisted his arm for that little act of generosity?’ His voice was purposely insulting.

‘I have no idea,’ she returned acidly, ‘considering I was merely a child myself at the time. Does it matter? Your father liked children, unlike some men.’ She didn’t even try to hide the meaning behind her barbed words.

‘Meaning I don’t?’ There was an element of bewilderment in his face.

‘Jamie is nearly ten years old now.’ She had clearly lost him along the way; she could see it in the narrowing puzzlement of those piercing blue eyes. ‘Jamie, Michelle’s child.’ His face hardened at the explanation and his mouth straightened into a thin, cruel line.

‘So?’ He was looking down at her in spite of her considerable height. He must be at least six feet four, she thought irrelevantly, and then returned to the attack, annoyed that her mind could wander at a moment like this.

‘So?’ She could feel the colour of her cheeks was matching the red of her hair but she didn’t care. This man was incredible, absolutely incredible! ‘Aren’t you even interested in seeing him?’

‘Any particular reason why I should be?’ he said coldly, his face thundery.

She was saved the necessity of a reply by a timid knocking at the door that led into the playground. ‘Please, miss...’ Little Julie Roberts was standing on the threshold with one arm supportively round Kevin’s thin, trembling shoulders. ‘He wants you.’

‘What’s wrong, Kevin?’ She went down on her heels in front of the small, woebegone figure, who lifted a grubby, tear-stained face up to her with a loud sniff.

‘I want me mam.’

‘You know she’s coming for you later, after work, and Grandma is picking you up for lunch, isn’t she?’ He nodded dismally, a wealth of sadness in his large blue eyes. She rose up with him in her arms and carried him over to her chair, ignoring Cameron as though he didn’t exist.

‘It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?’ She had found in the last few weeks since his father had died that distraction was the best policy, combined with a close cuddle. He nodded again, looking up at her quickly.

‘How old will you be?’

‘You know, miss.’ He wriggled delightedly at her asking.

‘Oh, yes.’ She pretended to consider a moment. ‘Twenty-one, isn’t it?’

‘Six.’

‘Six?’ She clapped a hand over her mouth in mock horror. ‘But you’re enormous! You aren’t kidding me, are you?’ He shook his head, but she noticed that the tears had dried up and a small smile was playing round the milk-stained mouth.

‘I bet you’ll get lots of presents.’ She knew for a fact that half the village had already bought the small lad a gift, stunned and horrified as they all were at the tragic accident.

‘I can’t have a party.’ He turned his great eyes up to her again. ‘Me mam hasn’t got enough pennies this year.’ He was clearly going to follow the train of thought that would lead him to why and his father’s death, so she cut in quickly, her voice bright.

‘Oh, we’re having a party here for you,’ she improvised rapidly. ‘A big cake and streamers and everything.’

‘And balloons?’ His face had suddenly become alight and she smiled as she nodded vigorously.

‘Of course, lots of balloons. Do you want to go and tell the other children now and then you can all start looking forward to it.’

‘Me tell them?’ This was clearly the icing on the cake and he slid off her lap and marched to the door, his thin shoulders squared with importance.

‘What was all that about?’ She had almost forgotten Cameron was there, but now he moved round to her side from where he had been standing leaning quietly against the wall. ‘Do you have parties for all the children?’

She felt it was another criticism on needless expenditure and glared at him angrily, her face burning. ‘Of course not, but Kevin has lost his father recently and there’s only him and his mother. The grandparents help, but she’s finding it hard and the pair of them aren’t over the first shock yet.’

‘Is that Mike Wilson’s son?’ His voice was harsh. She nodded slowly.

‘I read the report on that yesterday. It happened on my father’s property, didn’t it? The man pulled down a load of stacked logs on himself when he was drunk.’

‘He’d been drinking the night before, yes,’ Candy answered tightly, ‘but I understand the accident was just one of those things.’

‘Hardly.’ Cameron’s voice was cold. ‘The insurance company don’t want to know. There was no negligence on my father’s part, just sheer stupidity on Wilson’s side. From the amount of alcohol still in his system I’m amazed he could have stood up. I’m afraid the family won’t get a penny in damages.’

‘They already know that,’ she answered shortly, astounded by his lack of compassion. ‘And don’t worry, they have no intention of trying to get you to pay anything.’ She almost spat the words at him. He was worse than ever she had imagined. She would never have believed a human being could be so devoid of even the most elementary tenderness. There had been no sympathy in his voice, just cold, harsh censure and biting condemnation.

‘I’m aware of that,’ he answered abruptly, his dark head tilted to one side as he considered her furious face. ‘You’re determined to cast me in the role of wicked black baron, aren’t you? Do you always make such snap judgements? I wouldn’t have thought in your line of profession that was very wise.’ There it was again, that subtle criticism of her capabilities!

‘It’s no snap judgement where you are concerned,’ she answered bitingly. ‘I’ve had ten years to make up my mind about you.’

‘And hating me for every one of them?’ he asked mockingly.

‘Dead right.’ She turned and looked him full in the face. ‘To me you are the lowest thing that ever walked this earth, Cameron Strythe; a fly-blown maggot is more appealing than you.’

‘A doubtful comparison, but I think I get the message.’ The man was so infuriatingly in control, she thought wildly, as he moved lazily towards the door from which he had entered. He turned on the threshold and held her with his icy blue gaze. ‘Do I take it I am the heartless villain and your sister is the pure white innocent in this vivid imagination of yours?’

‘She was pregnant with your child and you walked out on her,’ Candy answered baldly. ‘Those are the facts; you can’t change them.’

‘And if I denied that?’

‘I wouldn’t believe you.’

‘I thought so.’ The light from the window was turning her hair into glowing fire as she stood looking at him, her eyes great black pools of pain in her chalkwhite face. He shook his head slowly, his face closed against her.

‘Oh, what a tangled web we weave...’

‘What?’ Her voice was sharp and he shook his head again, his face clearing.

‘Five tonight at the house, Candy.’

‘You still want me to come?’ She stared at him in surprise. She had thought after this little exchange there would be nothing left to say. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he had come back and pinned a notice on the door stating the school was closed until further notice!

He nodded abruptly as he left, leaving her staring miserably at the empty doorway. What a mess! What a hopeless, impossible mess. She wondered how long it would be before he could close them down. There would be official channels to go through and such like, but with Colonel Strythe gone their only support had vanished, and the council would be quick to point that out. Six months, nine months, certainly no more. The council had been waiting for an opportunity like this for years.

The first faint fingers of dusk were touching the blue-grey sky as she made her way towards the farm later that day. Normally she would have enjoyed the walk to the Strythe house, taking pleasure in the small hump-backed bridge below which the crystal-clear waters of the gurgling stream were forded by steppingstones, and the huge, sweeping drive lined with evergreen yews, oaks and beech trees, but today the beauty around her was wasted. Her whole being was concentrated on the confrontation ahead and she was dreading it. She wished Charles Strythe hadn’t died; she wished Cameron hadn’t come back; she wished so many things...

‘Hello, Miss Candy.’ Mrs Baines ushered her into the wide wood-panelled hall with a beaming smile. ‘It’s lovely to see you again, makes it seem more like old times.’ The round red-cheeked face took on a sober expression that didn’t sit well on the plump little woman. Mrs Baines had been with Colonel Strythe as long as she could remember, Candy mused; she must be missing him dreadfully. ‘Come to see Mr Cameron, I understand? You go into the drawing-room and I’ll tell him you’re here.’

Candy made her way to the drawing-room, looking round this room she had always loved as she entered. The Strythe house was built more in the style of a country mansion than of the average farmhouse seen scattered through the county. The rooms were large and high, with beautifully sculptured ceilings and vast window-seats, thick, deep carpets and long velvet curtains.

The grounds around the house were lovingly cared for and the stables situated some distance away were always in pristine condition, housing some fine mounts. According to her father, the Strythe family had diversified into many other areas besides farming, creating enormous wealth, although the family home with its acres of prime Devonshire cattle and sheep had always been Colonel Strythe’s first love.

She glanced at his portrait now as she stood before the roaring log fire waiting for Cameron’s arrival, noting the light blue eyes, the firm mouth and that small dimple in his chin that Cameron had inherited too. She missed him. She really did. The beautiful room, with its rich deep red curtains and upholstery and fine antique furniture, seemed empty without his benign presence.

‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’ She hadn’t noticed Cameron come in, lost as she was in the past, and started violently for the third time since his homecoming. ‘Do you suffer with your nerves?’ From anyone else the question, asked as it was in quiet, concerned tones, might have been genuine, but as she looked into his eyes she saw dark devilment gleaming out at her.

‘No, I do not,’ she returned sharply, flushing hotly.

‘Do I make you nervous, then?’ He had moved closer to her as he spoke and for the second time she became aware of that tantalising smell that was a part of him. It stirred something deep inside her that she would prefer not to be stirred.

‘No.’ As she spoke the denial she realised it was a lie. He did make her nervous, horribly nervous, and that in turn made her angry.

‘Good,’ he said lazily. He had changed since that morning and, looking at him in casual trousers and a heavy Aran sweater, she became aware that he really was quite devastatingly attractive. She caught her wandering thoughts savagely. She hadn’t really just thought that... had she?

‘You wanted to see me?’ She kept her voice cool and businesslike and walked with studied calm from the comforting warmth of the fire to the big easychair near by, perching on the end of it and crossing her hands on her lap.

‘Now I can almost believe you are a schoolteacher when you look like that,’ he said mockingly as he took in her stiff stance. ‘Although with that hair and those eyes it’s almost impossible to comprehend.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked furiously. ‘Schoolteachers are people; we come in all shapes and sizes.’

‘There aren’t many with a shape like yours,’ he countered quickly. ‘You can’t tell me you were short of male admirers when you were at university. I’ve been there; I know what a female like you about the place would do to the male population.’ There was some element in his voice she couldn’t place and she stared at him uncertainly for a moment.

‘I’ve had boyfriends, yes,’ she said slowly, disliking the way the conversation was going. ‘No more and no less than any other girl, I suppose.’

‘Anyone special?’ His voice was casual.

‘Look, I really don’t think that’s any of your business,’ she said sharply. ‘I’m here to discuss the school’s future—or lack of it,’ she added bitterly. ‘Shall we get on with it?’

‘Impatient little puss, aren’t you?’ he said mockingly, smiling slightly as she glared back at him. ‘But I suppose you were destined to be prickly and badtempered with hair the colour of fire.’

‘I am not prickly or bad-tempered—usually,’ she added pointedly, ‘and please cut the chit-chat. You won’t charm me, Mr Strythe, so don’t try.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ he said cryptically.

It was some time later when Mrs Baines brought in the tea-trolley and by then Candy had to admit that putting money into the school in a business sense was like pouring it down the drain. She couldn’t justify Cameron’s continuing his father’s patronage in any financial argument, but then Colonel Strythe hadn’t looked on it as an investment in any other sense but a human one. He had known how much the villagers wanted their children taught locally, he had seen how happy their offspring were in familiar surroundings, and once he had satisfied himself that the academic standard was good enough he had been more than prepared to be magnanimous. He could afford it, he had once told Candy, and the amount he spared the school and village was lost in the Strythe finances. Obviously his son thought differently!

She glared at him now as he gravely thanked Mrs Baines and took the heavy trolley from her, opening the door for her to leave. He could be so sickeningly pleasant when he pleased, but he didn’t fool her for a minute. She had seen what loving him had done to her sister, and Colonel Strythe had never been the same again once his son had left. This man left devastation and havoc wherever he went. She wondered how many broken hearts were scattered across Australia.

‘I won’t say, “a penny for your thoughts”, because frankly I think I would be better not knowing,’ the deep, husky voice said cynically. She focused her eyes sharply, aware she had been gazing at him with her thoughts far away. ‘Help yourself to sandwiches and cake and please try to force yourself to eat, whatever you think of the present company. Mrs Baines will be most upset if most of this doesn’t disappear.’

Candy had always been blessed with a particularly robust appetite that rarely faltered whatever the circumstances, and the selection of wafer-thin sandwiches, temptingly filled rolls, tiny individual pork pies and mouth-watering homemade cakes was too good to resist. Cameron had pulled two easy-chairs closer to the fire before bringing the trolley to her side, switching on the television as he sat down. It was too cosy, too companionable, but she was hungry, and by concentrating on the flickering screen she found she had demolished a good proportion of the food by the time she was full. She looked up to find a pair of amused steel-blue eyes fixed on her face.

‘Good grief, girl, do you always eat like that?’ His gaze roved down her slender figure in wonder.

‘You did say to eat ... whatever I think of the present company.’ The last was added with wry defiance and she swung back her heavy fold of rich silky hair from her shoulders. ‘I had better be going now. You’ve made your point about the school; I really don’t think——’

‘I haven’t made any point as far as I’m aware and we most certainly have not finished this discussion,’ he said curtly as he rang the bell by the side of the fireplace. When Mrs Baines had cleared the remains of the meal, exclaiming in pleasure at the appreciation of her cooking, he closed the door behind her and moved back to his chair, turning off the television as he did so.

‘There is another point I want to discuss with you, Candy, so forget the school problem for a moment.’ She resented hearing her nickname on his lips almost as much as she had done when he had called her Candice. The poor man can’t win, she thought wryly, except that no one in their right mind would ever describe Cameron Strythe as a poor man.

‘Your father is the same age as mine, I understand?’ She stared at him blankly. What on earth had her father’s age to do with anything?

‘I’ve no idea. I suppose they must be close in age; they grew up together, after all.’

‘Well, at sixty I think your father deserves some years without having the responsibility of what is a very taxing job on his shoulders. If Dad had taken it easier he might still be here now.’

She stared at him as the meaning of his words filtered through to her brain. ‘You aren’t going to sack him? You can’t!’ She rose abruptly to her feet, her eyes tragic.

‘Don’t be so ridiculous, woman.’ His voice cut through her like a razor. ‘I’m talking about retirement.’

‘Retirement?’ she mumbled. ‘But he doesn’t want to retire. The cottage and everything—where would they live?’ This last tack had taken her by surprise and for a moment she couldn’t get her mind to function properly, and then, as hot, blinding rage took over, she took a step towards him, drawing him to his feet by her fury.

‘You swine; you total, absolute swine!’ She was too enraged to see how white his face had gone and how those cold eyes had become positively arctic. ‘You come back here after all this time and what do you do?’ She was almost incoherent in her anger. ‘First you are going to close down the school and I don’t know what Kevin will do...’ She gave a gasping sob as she took breath. ‘And then Dad: you’re going to take out your spite on Dad as well. And what have we done to you? It was you who messed up our lives; you’ve had a rare old time ... making your fortune in Australia, and now everything is yours——’

‘Stop it.’ He had reached her side in one stride and took her arms in his hands, shaking her slightly as her voice rose to the edge of hysteria. ‘Control yourself.’

‘Control myself?’ Her voice was a shriek, but she couldn’t have stopped the avalanche if she had wanted to and she didn’t want to. She wanted to scream and yell at him, wanted to claw his face with her hands. She hated him, oh, she did, so much.

As his hand came across her face in a sharp slap the surprise of it cut off her voice as though with a knife and then the next minute he had pulled her into his arms, holding her shaking figure close as he talked in quiet, reasonable tones. ‘I’m sorry, Candy, but I had to do that; you were going to make yourself ill.’ She wanted to struggle, wanted to fight him, but suddenly the adrenalin had all gone and it was only his hands on her body keeping her upright.

‘You haven’t given me a chance to explain, to make you understand.’ He was speaking into the soft silk of her hair, her head pressed into the front of his chest, and now he lifted her face with one hand, gazing down into the tear-drenched huge eyes. ‘How can anyone so beautiful be so obstinate?’ There was a note in his voice she didn’t dare dwell on, but it made her want to cry even more. ‘What is it with you, carrot-tops?’

As his mouth came down on hers she knew she ought to resist. This was Cameron, who had used her sister so badly and now was ripping her safe little world apart, but with a sense of horror she realised she had been waiting for this since the first time she had seen him again. He was so different to any other man she had ever met, so...

As the kiss deepened his probing lips opened hers with effortless ease, speaking of his practised seduction, but although she recognised his expertise she was powerless to stop him. It was a kiss, only a kiss, and yet he had her whole body trembling and aching as though they had been making love for hours. She had always laughed at those books that spoke of the heroine becoming helpless under the hero’s passion, but she was experiencing it now!

‘So sweet, so very, very sweet ...’ His breath was hot and clean as his mouth moved to her throat, kissing the pulse beating so frantically until she thought she would faint with the thrill of it. He had her pressed close into his body, moulding her shape to his, and as she became aware of his arousal she knew a moment’s bitter-sweet satisfaction that he wanted her; he wanted her and he couldn’t hide the fact.

As his tongue ravaged the secret places of her mouth she knew a sensual pleasure she had never experienced before, hardly conscious that he was moving down her throat and still down to the soft swell of her breasts, moving aside her blouse with practised ease. His hands and mouth were both tender and forceful and she was mesmerised by it all, by this delicious intoxication that had taken over her whole body.

Somewhere, dimly, she heard a telephone ringing, but that was in another world. Her world was here in this room, with a growing, whirling crescendo of feeling, and the soft, crackling glow of the fire red against her closed eyelids.

The tap on the door and Mrs Baines’s voice acted like a draught of cold water. She jerked violently out of Cameron’s arms, glancing wildly at the closed door, and then became fully aware of the state of her undress as she stood swaying and dazed in the middle of the room.

‘Just a moment, Mrs Baines.’ Cameron’s voice was unforgivably cool, and she knew a second’s intense, burning humiliation as he waited for her to fasten the tiny silver buttons of her blouse and straighten her tumbled hair before moving across the room. She heard Mrs Baines’s voice, but couldn’t distinguish what she said through the drumming in her ears. What had she done? What had she done? To fall into his arms like that! After everything she had said, after everything he had done!

She glanced frantically at the closed door and heard Cameron’s voice, low and controlled, talking to someone in the hall. He must be on the telephone. How was she going to face him again? How was she going to endure the cool, sardonic mockery that those ice-blue eyes managed so well?

She looked towards the window hidden behind thick velvet full-length curtains. She knew the dining-room windows led on to the bowling-green-smooth lawns at the back of the house. How often she had played there as a young child while the rest of the two families socialised inside, running in and out with garlands of daisies and handfuls of buttercups picked from the small copse beyond the lawns, and later she had often sat in the shade of the big oak bordering the lawns with Uncle Charles while Mrs Baines served them tea.

She didn’t think about her actions; she just knew she had to escape before Cameron returned. It was easy to slip out through the full-length windows, shutting them carefully behind her, and then she ran like a young deer across the lawns until she reached the drive, only feeling safe once she was on the road that skirted the village. She was halfway home, keeping to the shadows, before she realised she had left her bag with its mass of homework corrections sitting by the side of her chair in the dining-room. ‘Damn, damn, damn...’ She ground her teeth angrily. Well, she couldn’t go back now. There was no way she was facing him again tonight. She would rather walk through fire backwards.

There was only Jasper to greet her when she reached home, for which she was supremely thankful. After fixing herself a cup of coffee, she carried it with her into her bedroom, drinking it down in hot, reviving gulps as she ran a warm, scented bath. She needed to soak, soak away the seductive memory of his hands and mouth on her flesh, the sense of burning betrayal of Michelle she was feeling that had her gazing wide-eyed at her reflection in the mirror as though staring at a stranger.

‘How could you, Candy? How could you do that?’ The white-faced girl looking back at her could give her no answer.

As she stepped into the bath she heard the phone ring stridently downstairs and her stomach jumped into her mouth. She paused, with one leg in the water, relaxing only when it stopped and all was quiet again. Within minutes she heard Jasper barking delightedly and her father’s voice, and then seconds later, as she was washing her hair, digging her fingers into her scalp until it hurt, the phone rang again.

‘Candy?’ Her mother’s voice sounded outside the bathroom door. ‘Cam’s on the phone. Can you take it?’

‘No, sorry.’ Her voice sounded amazingly normal. ‘I’ve just got in the bath.’

‘Oh, right.’ Her mother’s voice sounded faintly perplexed but she heard footsteps padding downstairs and she was left in peace again.

As she lay in the thick, scented water, the bubbles covering her arms and legs, hot resentment took the place of the crushing humiliation that had had her in its grip. He had tried that little seduction scene on purpose; he must think she was crazy! How low could a man get? She sat up straight in her anger, the water running in diamond rivulets down her back. He was going to close the school and sack her father, however he wanted to dress it up. That was what it amounted to, and he thought that bit of cheap lovemaking could ease the blow. Maybe he thought that having got one sister twisted round his little finger so many years ago he would have no trouble with the other one. She ground her teeth in helpless frustration. And she hadn’t exactly led him to believe differently, had she? She groaned and slid under the water for a few seconds, holding her breath as the hot water washed across her face.

What else was he going to do now he was back and so powerful? He had virtually written poor Kevin’s mother off without a penny; he obviously didn’t care about the village, the people, anything. There was no reason why he should, but surely a little compassion wouldn’t hurt too much? As she came up for air she realised her mind was going round in circles and climbed wearily out of the bath.

She would fight him—more than ever now she would fight him—but one thing she had learnt tonight. He fought dirty and if she wanted to win she had to fight dirtier still. She squared her shoulders under the thick, fleecy towelling-robe as her eyes glinted with the light of battle. ‘So be it, Cameron Strythe,’ she muttered into the steamy, damp room. ‘No holds barred, just the way you want it.’