Читать книгу A Vengeful Deception - Lee Wilkinson, Lee Wilkinson - Страница 7

THE library was a high, handsome room, with a large stone fireplace and mullioned windows. On every wall there were shelves from floor to ceiling, filled with an array of books that delighted Anna’s heart.

At first glance everything seemed to be well cared for. She could discern none of the neglect that Gideon Strange had mentioned.

In one corner was a little pulpit-staircase. It was made of dark oak and beautifully carved; a polished handrail supported by banisters followed the spiral of the steps.

She went over to it and found it moved easily on hidden castors. Slipping off her boots, she climbed the smooth treads and found she could reach the top shelf of books with ease.

Working here would be a pleasure.

But did she want to work for Gideon Strange?

One half of her wanted to very much, but the sensible half warned against it.

Perhaps because of a fancied resemblance to David, there was a physical attraction that made being with him disturbing, to say the least. But could she afford to turn down a chance that, had her prospective employer been anyone else, she would have jumped at?

Perhaps if she asked for a few days to consider his offer? By the time Christmas was over she might feel differently, be able to face the thought of working for him with equanimity.

But who was she trying to fool? He was too charismatic, too strong a personality, altogether too dangerous for her peace of mind.

Though she’d only seen him relatively briefly, that tough, handsome face, with its breathtaking charm and more than a hint of arrogance, was etched indelibly on her mind.

The green eyes, long and narrow and heavily lashed; the chiselled mouth—oh, that mouth!—firm and clean-cut, a fascinating combination of strength and sensuality.

Rather like David’s, but with added maturity.

No, she was wrong. David’s mouth, while charming, had totally lacked that strength. It might even have been a little weak.

To her great surprise she realised that David had suddenly become shallow and lightweight compared to Gideon Strange…

Which only stiffened her resolve to refuse his offer. Having been badly burnt once had made her wary. He had the kind of explosive sexuality that made her want to run, and keep running…

A soft patter of snow being dashed against the windows drew her attention. The plum velvet curtains were open, and through the darkness pressing against diamond-leaded panes she could see the white flakes scurrying past.

It seemed the wind was rising.

If she didn’t leave quite soon she might have difficulty getting back to Cleo’s, where everything was light and bright and modern, and the only books were dog-eared paperbacks jostling for space on chipboard shelves.

She descended the steps carefully, put on her boots and, after switching off the lights, hurried back to the kitchen.

The shopping had been unpacked and the thick folk-weave curtains drawn across the windows. A bunch of mistletoe with gleaming white berries lay on the draining board.

Still wearing his jacket, and looking even taller and broader than she remembered, Gideon Strange was putting tea things on a tray. His fair hair, she noticed, was a little rumpled and quite wet.

Glancing up, he said easily, ‘Ah, there you are. The tea’s already made.’

Just the sight of him, the sound of his voice, told her that she hadn’t been mistaken about his intense attraction. Well, she wouldn’t be caught in that trap again. She had shed too many tears over David to want to repeat the experience.

‘Thanks, but I really haven’t time,’ she said briskly.

His tone studiously casual, he refused to take no for an answer. ‘Just a quick cup before you go. You must be more than ready for one.’

She was, but anxiety to escape, to get on her way, was her prime consideration.

‘Milk and sugar?’ he asked politely.

‘Just a little milk, please.’

Seeing him fumble one-handed to open a four-pint plastic bottle of milk, she said, ‘Let me.’

Watching her deftly undo the top, remove the seal and half fill a jug, he said reflectively, ‘I could do with you staying until I get the use back in this blasted arm.’

‘But surely you can’t be on your own here?’

Without answering, he poured out two cups of tea and, handing her one, suggested, ‘Why don’t you sit down for a minute?’

Remaining standing, she protested, ‘You must have servants? I mean, in a place this size…’ Her voice tailed off helplessly.

‘In the normal way of things there’s a full staff, of course. But the Manor hasn’t been occupied since my father died. Only Mary Morrison, who was my father’s secretary, and her husband Arthur, who used to be the chauffeur, stayed on. They’ve lived here since before I was born, so they regard it as their home—’

‘But if your father’s secretary still lives here, why do you need to engage another one?’

Without a flicker of an eyelid, he answered, ‘Because Mary is turned sixty and looking forward to a quiet life rather than a full-time job.’

When Anna said nothing further, he went on, ‘The Morrisons haven’t had a holiday this year, and they wanted to go up to Scotland to spend Christmas and New Year with Arthur’s sister. I wasn’t expecting to be back in time for Christmas, so I told them to close up the house and go ahead.’

More than a little surprised by his long-winded explanation—it didn’t seem to be his style at all—she asked, ‘Then there’s no one else here?’

‘No, indeed.’ With soft emphasis he added, ‘We’re quite alone.’

His words seemed to hold more than a hint of satisfaction, and she felt a sudden disquiet. She’d been on edge from the start, but this was different.

Repressing a shiver brought on by apprehension, Anna warned herself not to let her imagination run riot.

Yet something in his manner, and the knowledge that they were quite alone, was far from reassuring. It must be a good half-mile to the road, and a great deal more than that to the nearest house…

Resolutely pushing away that alarming thought, she reminded herself firmly that Gideon Strange was the son of a well-respected baronet, and the new owner of Hartington Manor.

Of course he posed no threat, had no designs on her. Why on earth should he? She was just a stranger who, because of the circumstances, had given him a lift home, and to whom he’d offered a job.

If there were any more personal feelings, they were on her side… Which was why she’d decided not to accept his offer.

As though he could see into her mind, he said, ‘I take it you’ve come to a decision?’

‘Y-you mean about the job?’ she stammered. ‘Well, I…’ Then, chickening out, knowing it would be a lot easier to say no from the other end of a telephone, she lied, ‘I—I’d like a chance to think it over, if you don’t mind.’

His green eyes glinted. ‘I actually meant about staying here. Don’t you think, as we’re both on our own, that it would be nice if we were to spend Christmas together?’

Trying to believe he was teasing, she answered as lightly as possible, ‘Thanks for the offer, but I couldn’t possibly stay.’

Finishing her tea as quickly as she could, she put her cup back in the saucer with a little rattle, and, striving to sound casual, remarked, ‘Cleo will be wondering where on earth I’ve got to.’

Dark brows lifted a fraction. ‘I understood you to say she wasn’t expecting you?’

Cursing herself for telling him so much, Anna said weakly, ‘She knows me well enough to be certain I’d change my mind. Now I really must be going. They eat about seven, as soon as the twins have gone to bed…’

‘Well, if I can’t persuade you to stay,’ he murmured regretfully, ‘I’ll see you to the door.’

At that instant the lights flickered and went out.

Anna’s gasp was audible.

‘Don’t worry.’ In the darkness, Gideon’s voice sounded unconcerned. ‘It’s the generator. I’m afraid it’s on the blink. If you stay where you are for a moment, I’ll find a candle.’

Just as he finished speaking, the lights flashed on again, brilliant after the momentary blackness.

With a feeling of relief she hurried out of the kitchen and, trying belatedly to look as if she wasn’t escaping, crossed the hall to the front door.

Though she’d had several seconds’ start, and Gideon didn’t appear to be moving quickly, he was there before her.

His back to the dark wood, blocking her way, he said, ‘Let me know about the job, won’t you?’

‘Yes… Yes, I will.’

‘Oh, just one more thing…’

She paused and looked up at him. Close to, he dwarfed her five feet seven inches, and his shoulders seemed as wide as a barn door.

He lifted his right hand over their heads and, before she could react to the sprig of mistletoe he held, bent his head and kissed her on the lips.

For a few endless seconds she stood transfixed while that firm mouth covered hers, making her heart race and her head spin. Then, jerking away as though she’d been scalded, she brushed past him and pulled open the door.

She was shocked to find everywhere was white-over and a full-scale blizzard had started to blow. Snowflakes gusted in, swirling round their heads like handfuls of icy confetti.

‘I think it would be extremely unwise to set off in conditions like these,’ Gideon advised evenly.

Panic-stricken at the thought of having to stay, she insisted, ‘I’ll be all right, really I will. I don’t have too far to go.’

Disturbed, almost shocked by the effect of that relatively innocent kiss, she knew wild horses would have had a job to keep her there.

‘Well, do take care.’

Ducking her head, she made her way through the driving white curtain to the car.

Standing in the doorway, Gideon called after her, ‘Goodnight, Anna, and a merry Christmas.’

Somehow she managed, ‘Thank you, and the same to you.’

Slamming the car door behind her, she fastened her seat belt and felt for the keys which she’d left in the ignition.

Though the lights came on feebly, proving it wasn’t the battery, the engine flatly refused to start.

‘Try it without the lights,’ Gideon shouted, appearing at the car window.

She tried repeatedly, without success and with growing desperation.

Opening the car door a crack, he remarked cheerfully, ‘It doesn’t seem to be firing.’

Endeavouring to speak calmly, she asked, ‘Is there anything you can do?’

‘I’m sorry to say I don’t know much about machinery.’ Humorously, he added, ‘When I tried tinkering with the generator I only seemed to make matters worse.’

In an odd kind of way his answer surprised her. She had put him down as a man who would be able to deal with almost anything.

‘You don’t have another car, I suppose?’ She was clutching at straws.

‘I’m afraid not. All the family cars were sold after my father died.’

Freezing snow was blowing in, settling on her hair, making her shiver. ‘Then it will have to be a taxi.’

‘I doubt if any taxis will continue to run in these conditions.’

‘It’s quite likely that the main roads will still be clear. Please will you phone for me?’

‘Sorry. That isn’t possible.’

‘Why isn’t it possible?’ she asked sharply.

‘Because the phone isn’t working. The gales blew down several trees, which in turn brought down the line…’ He was having to shout, the wind whipping away his words. ‘I gather it will be after Christmas before they get round to mending it.’

‘Haven’t you got a mobile phone?’ Most people had these days. Though of course he was newly over from the States…

Opening the door fully, he said, ‘Yes, I hired one. But unfortunately I wasn’t thinking, and I left it in my car.’ Then, briskly, ‘Now, may I suggest you come back inside, before we both freeze to death?’

For one mad moment she toyed with the idea of setting off on foot, until common sense reminded her that it must be something in the region of five miles back to where Cleo lived.

It would be unwise, to say the least, to attempt to walk that far at night and in a raging blizzard, wearing high-heeled fashion boots.

Fate, it seemed, was against her.

Seeing nothing else for it, she clambered out.

‘I expect you’ll be wanting these.’ Reaching over, he used his right hand to gather up her bag and case from the rear seat, then leaned against the car door to close it.

Head down against the driving snow, her teeth clenched to stop them chattering, Anna followed him back to the house.

The air inside felt almost as cold as the outside, and a drift of snow, blown in through the partly open door, powdered the dark oak floorboards.

Using his foot to shut the door behind them, Gideon remarked, ‘As I said earlier, the central heating isn’t working, so with an Aga that runs on either gas or solid fuel, the warmest place in the house is the kitchen.’

He led the way back there and, putting her belongings on an old settle, shrugged out of his wet jacket and hung it on one of a row of large, wooden pegs.

‘Let me.’ Having one-handedly helped her off with her coat, he hung it beside his own, before finding a couple of towels. ‘Better dry your hair. You don’t want to catch a chill.’

He rubbed his own head then, leaving the towel hanging around his neck, crossed to the huge fireplace, both sides of which were stacked with kindling, split logs and sawn-off branches the size of young trees.

Anna dried her face. Her cheeks felt stiff and frozen, her ears were numb, and she could tell her nose was red.

While she removed the pins and rubbed her long, dark hair, she watched him take a match from the box, strike it with a flick of his thumbnail, and crouch on his haunches to light the kindling.

Then, his right hand flat on the stone hearth, he leaned forward to blow the faltering flame into life.

She noticed that he wore a heavy gold signet-ring on his fourth finger, before her eyes were drawn to his handsome profile.

Once again she saw a sneaking likeness to David.

But while David’s profile had been just as handsome, it had had nothing of the ruthless quality that this man’s possessed.

Using both hands to pull back her still damp hair, she knotted it loosely in the nape of her neck, while a shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the cold.

What on earth was she going to do, stranded here alone with this disturbing stranger?

Her practical streak pointed out that there wasn’t much she could do. Somehow she would have to pull herself together and make the best of things. At least until the blizzard stopped.

But even if it did stop she wouldn’t be able to leave until morning, and the thought of having to spend the night here was a nerve-racking one, to say the least…

Glancing up, he said sardonically, ‘There’s no need to look quite so scared. I only turn into a werewolf at full moon.’

She was hoping he couldn’t see the colour that his words had whipped into her cheeks, when he added, ‘Come and get warm by the fire.’

Chilled to the bone, needing no more urging, Anna went over to stand in front of the huge fireplace where the logs were blazing merrily and already starting to throw out a comforting heat.

Watching him use his right hand to pull up an easy chair for her, Anna felt a sudden shame that she’d thought only of herself and not of him. His elbow must have taken a nasty knock, and if the life was starting to come back into it he might well be in considerable pain.

‘Would you like me to take a look at your arm? If you have a first aid box, it’s possible there may be some liniment, or something that would help to ease any—’

‘I’m sure you’d make a charming nurse,’ he broke in smoothly, ‘but it really isn’t necessary. It will no doubt be good as new by morning. Now, I propose we have an aperitif, while I rustle us up something to eat.’

On edge and apprehensive, Anna had never felt less like eating. But no doubt he was hungry.

‘Perhaps I’d better do it?’ she offered.

‘My cooking’s not that bad,’ he said drily.

‘I was thinking of your arm.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll make it a one-handed job. But before I start, is there anything in particular that you dislike?’

‘No, I like most things.’

‘I was considering a stir-fry, if that suits you? Everything comes in ready-to-use packs, which simplifies matters, and we can eat it on our knees in front of the fire.’

‘A stir-fry sounds fine.’

Having discarded the towel, he produced a bottle of sherry, a bottle of white wine and a corkscrew.

‘There is something you can do, after all. Opening bottles seems to require two hands.’

The lights, which weren’t over-bright at the best of times, flickered and went out, leaving only the firelight.

As Anna stood irresolute they flashed on again, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Firelight alone made things much too intimate for her peace of mind.

When both bottles had been opened, Gideon put the wine on one side and poured the pale amber sherry. Passing her a glass, he said, ‘I hope you like it fairly dry?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ She didn’t drink alcohol as a rule, but this seemed no time to say so.

Returning to her chair, she stretched her feet to the blaze and sipped her sherry. Covertly, from beneath long, dark lashes, she watched him assemble the ingredients for a stir-fry, and put a wok to heat on the Aga.

He was wearing a cream cable-knit sweater that emphasised the width of his chest and shoulders. His corn-coloured hair was rumpled, and a single lock had fallen over his forehead, making him look disarmingly boyish.

Which she was quite sure he was not.

He was a mature and dangerous man, and she would do well to remember that, rather than allow herself to be lulled into a false sense of security…

As the unaccustomed sherry and the warmth of the fire banished the chill from her bones, Anna began to relax and try to take a more rational view of the situation.

Though she didn’t like being stranded here alone with Gideon Strange, things weren’t really that desperate.

She had food and warmth and a roof over her head and, as she’d reminded herself earlier, he was a man of some standing, and no doubt perfectly trustworthy.

He might have kissed her under the mistletoe, but on Christmas Eve that could hardly be counted as a crime. And honesty made her admit that, had it been any other man, she wouldn’t have given the kiss a second thought.

Because he reminded her of David, and brought to life all the feelings she had worked so hard to stifle, she was tense and hypersensitive.

Which made the prospect of having to spend the rest of the evening in his company a daunting one.

But rather than let it throw her, what she must do was stay calm and unmoved. Or at least appear to.

If by any chance he did make a pass at her, she could quietly freeze him off. After all, past boyfriends had remarked with some bitterness that it was something she was good at! And though he might not relish having to take no for an answer, she couldn’t see him forcing himself on any woman.

He wouldn’t need to. A man such as he was more likely to have to fight off eager females.

It seemed strange that he wasn’t married. Perhaps he was the ‘love ’em and leave ’em’ type? Or maybe he preferred a live-in lover? She couldn’t see a man with such an aura of sexuality living like a monk.

But if he was involved in any kind of serious, long-term relationship, why had he returned home alone? Unless his partner planned to follow…

‘The best thing about a stir-fry is that it doesn’t take too long.’

Gideon’s voice broke into Anna’s thoughts and, startled, she looked up to find him by her side. He was holding a small round tray which he settled on her knees. It held a napkin, a glass of wine, a bowl heaped with chicken, prawns and colourful vegetables, and a pair of chopsticks.

He put the bottle containing the remaining wine on the low table, and a moment later, equipped with a matching tray, took his seat opposite.

Raising his glass, so the flickering flames turned the colourless wine to gold, he said, ‘Here’s to us!’

She drank dutifully.

‘A stir-fry may not be particularly appropriate,’ he admitted with a grin, ‘but tuck in while it’s nice and hot.’

Suddenly finding she was hungry after all, she needed no more urging.

For a while they ate in silence, then, picking up the bottle of wine, he leaned forward to refill her glass.

She shook her head. ‘No more for me, thank you.’

‘Sure you won’t have another glass? After all, it is Christmas Eve.’

‘I don’t think so, thanks,’ she refused politely. ‘I don’t usually drink.’

‘How virtuous of you.’

Ignoring the blatant mockery, she concentrated on her food. It was surprisingly good, and when her bowl was empty she looked up to say, ‘Thank you very much. I enjoyed that.’

‘Tomorrow we’ll stick with traditional Christmas fare—turkey, stuffing, and all the trimmings. I even remembered to buy cranberry sauce,’ he added triumphantly.

When she said nothing, he quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘Don’t you think congratulations are in order?’

‘I expect to be gone by tomorrow morning.’ Her voice was unconsciously edgy.

‘Listening to that wind howling, and the snow beating against the windows, I shouldn’t bet on it. I remember a similar blizzard when I was a boy,’ he went on reminiscently. ‘Because the drive dips in several places, and the contours of the land encourage drifting, we were snowed in for several days. Still, if we are snowbound, we’ve plenty of food and drink and a good supply of logs, so there’s nothing to worry about. We’re lucky, really.’

It was pretty much what she’d told herself earlier, but hearing him sound so glib and self-satisfied touched her on the raw.

Suddenly, he started to chuckle.

It was a deep, attractive sound that at any other time would have made her want to laugh with him. Now, she protested stiffly, ‘I really don’t see anything to laugh at.’

‘You’re not sitting where I am. If you could see your face!’

Her grey eyes sparkling with anger, she pointed out, ‘It’s all right for you. You’re at home, where you want to be.’

‘Do I take it you’d sooner be sitting alone in a bedsit? Or inflicting yourself on a family who may not really want you?’

Cheeks burning, Anna wished, not for the first time, that she hadn’t told him so much. She wasn’t usually so forthcoming. It had been sheer nervousness that had made her babble on.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said after a moment. ‘That wasn’t particularly kind.’

She grasped the nettle. ‘No, but it doesn’t stop it being true.’

‘Actually, I doubt if it is. Put it down to pique on my part, because I’m very happy with the way things have turned out.’

When, flustered, she said nothing, he went on, ‘If you were born and bred here, you must have plenty of close friends?’

‘After I left school I was away at college for three years, and then I lived in London for two. I lost touch with most of them.’

‘Well, if there’s nothing spoiling, so to speak, I don’t see why you’re so desperate to get away. I know that at the moment the Manor has a distinct lack of creature comforts, but I was hoping you might have enough spirit to be able to regard being marooned here as fun, a kind of adventure…’

That was how she would have regarded it, had the man been any other than himself.

But she could hardly tell him that.

Eyes gleaming between those fascinating long lashes, he went on with mock sympathy, ‘But I guess the whole thing must be terribly unnerving, especially when the lights keep going out—’

As though on cue, the lights flickered and dimmed, before brightening again.

‘—and you’re stranded in the dark with a man you know absolutely nothing about. A man who could be anything or anybody…’

Well aware by now that she was being teased, she smiled and said, ‘It’s not quite that bad. After all, I know you’re Sir Ian’s son, and the new master of Hartington Manor.’

‘Well, now you’re satisfied that I pose no threat—’

‘I didn’t say that.’ The words were out before she could prevent them.

Green eyes alight with laughter, he glanced at the mistletoe, which he’d hung from a hook on the beamed ceiling. ‘Ah! Well, perhaps if I burn the mistletoe?’

It was clear that he’d noticed her reaction to his kiss. But then an experienced man such as he could hardly have failed to.

Blushing furiously, she said, ‘I hardly think it’s necessary to burn it.’

‘You mean if I just refrain from making use of it?’ He sighed deeply. ‘A pity, really, as it’s the festive season. Still, if that’s what it takes to make you feel happy and secure… Now, would you like anything else to eat? Fruit? Cheese? Christmas cake?’

‘Nothing else, thank you,’ she said primly.

‘Then I’ll make some coffee.’

While he filled a cafétière and set a tray with sugar, cream and fine bone-china cups, she thought about what had just been said.

In an odd sort of way, bringing things into the open had eased the tension and created a more friendly atmosphere.

His whole attitude had shown clearly that any problem had been on her side. But then she’d known that from the start. It had been her reaction to him that had made things so uncomfortable…

‘If you’d be so kind…?’

Glancing up, anticipating his need, she pulled the small table into place.

Sliding the tray on to it, he asked, ‘How do you like your coffee?’

‘A little cream, please. No sugar.’

She noticed he took his own black, with neither cream nor sugar.

While they drank, they sat staring into the leaping flames and listening to the sizzle of snowflakes falling down the chimney on to the burning logs.

The silence had become easy, almost companionable, and the prospect of spending the rest of the evening in his company was no longer quite so daunting.

When their cups were empty, Gideon asked cheerfully, ‘Now, what shall we do until bedtime?’

‘Perhaps I’d better start by washing up.’

He shook his head. ‘We have a dishwasher when there’s sufficient electricity to run it. I meant what shall we do by way of entertainment? There’s television, of course, but the living-room is bound to be as cold as charity, and I’m not sure that the generator will take the strain.’

Anna shook her head. ‘I don’t care much for television. I’ve always preferred books.’

‘I’m with you there! Well, if it’s books you want, there are certainly plenty of those. Apart from the library itself, my father half filled the study with his own personal collection of first editions.’

‘Really?’

‘Though I’m not particularly knowledgeable on the subject,’ Gideon added levelly, ‘it’s an interest I share. So if you’d care to see the collection some time, I’ll be happy to show you.’

The offer was made casually, but she answered with undisguised eagerness, ‘Thank you. I’d like that.’

‘As you may imagine, going through catalogues and suchlike took up a great deal of time; that’s why Mary Morrison became his secretary.’

‘I’d no idea that your father was a collector,’ Anna remarked.

Just for an instant she saw a look that might have been angry disbelief on Gideon’s face, then it was gone.

‘You astonish me,’ he said coolly. ‘I’d always presumed it was common knowledge, at least among the people who knew him reasonably well.’

‘As I said earlier I didn’t know him personally. I just knew of him.’

‘All the same,’ Gideon persisted, ‘as you and he were presumably competitors in the same market, I would have expected you to have at least heard his name mentioned in that connection.’

Wondering why it mattered, why he was making an issue of it, she shook her head. ‘Not necessarily. You see, if it becomes known that a wealthy collector is interested in a certain item it can push the price sky-high, so a lot of the more serious collectors find it better to buy through an agent rather than get involved on a personal level.’

She couldn’t tell whether she’d convinced him or not. His face was expressionless, his green eyes hard and opaque as jade, hiding his thoughts.

After a moment, he shrugged and admitted lightly, ‘That makes sense, I suppose. Buying and selling is business, whatever commodity is involved.’

She was pleased that finally he seemed to have accepted what she’d told him.

Still the puzzle remained—why had he looked as though he disbelieved her in the first place? What possible reason could she have for lying about a thing like that?