by Mary Lyons
‘Ha! That’s a laugh,’ Angelica muttered-grimly as’ she left the kitchen.
Only, of course, she had absolutely nothing, to laugh about. Ever since that horrendous scene in the foyer of the Ritz hotel, just over a week ago, she’d barely been able to believe what had happened to her. How could she have had such appaling luck as to meet two charming rogues—and to have been taken in so easily by both of them?
It was a question which dominated ‘her mind during the day, and haunted her virtually sleepless nights. And despite the almost constant phone calls from Luke, and his attempt to gain entrance to Lonsdale House, she had adamantly refused to see him.
Avoiding any contact with him on the day that the house was open had proved to be a problem, of course. Until she’d had the brainwave of asking her old friend. Him, to stand in for her. Freshly back from swinging New York, Kim had willingly agreed to help Out, and Angelica would have been more grateful if her friend hadn’t also fallen under the awful man’s spell.
‘But he’s gorgeous!’ she’d exclaimed when Angelica had returred—via the back entrance to the garden—after all the visitors had left. ‘And he wasn’t best pleased, to find that you’d flown the coop,’ Kim had added with a worried frown. ‘I honestly don’t think that he’s the sort of man to play games with. He struck me as very determined and, although it probably sounds mad to say so, very dangerous!’
‘Rubbish!’ Angelica had snorted irritably. ‘I just couldn’t face a row with him, that’s all. He’ll get fed up and leave me alone very soon. You’ll see.’
Kim had shrugged. ‘Well, I hope for your sake that you’re right. Mind you, he can leave his shoes outside my bedroom door any night! I bet he’s a real tiger in bed!’
‘Don’t be so disgusting!’ Angelica had retorted grimly, wondering why her friendship with Kim had lasted as long as it had.
However, far more important than Luke Cunningham—or his attempts to contact her—was the worrying situation over Lonsdale House and its board of trustees. Or, to be strictly accurate, the attitude of the chairman, Lady Marshall.
Angelica didn’t need anyone to tell her that she now must have a very real enemy in the autocratic old lady. Not that she wouldn’t firmly stand by everything she’d said in Betty’s defence that evening at the Ritz, of course. And repeat it again, if necessary. However, it didn’t take a very high IQ to realise that the venomous old dragon would now be after her blood—or that if she could turf Angelica out of Lonsdale House she’d have considerable pleasure doing so.
Unfortunately, there had been a deathly silence so far, which Angelica found extremely worrying. And it was a problem which was made even more unsettling by the fact that it was one she couldn’t discuss with Betty, since she had no intention of allowing her old nanny to be distressed or upset in any way.
So, when Betty had nagged her to see to the old mulberry tree, which had been damaged in that fierce rainstorm some weeks ago, she’d been quite pleased to have something positive to do. Even if she was frightened of heights, this was hardly a seven-storey job, she told herself firmly as she dragged the old wooden ladder out of the garden shed. Placing it up against the ancient tree, whose broken branches needed trimming, she picked up a heavy saw and began gingerly climbing up the rungs.
This old mulberry tree, with its sharp-tasting crimson berries—which Betty made into the most delicious fruit pies—had supposedly been one of many planted in the garden of Henry VIII’s old manor house at Chelsea almost five hundred years ago. Angelica realised that it was probably just a fable, but some other gardens in Cheyne Walk contained trees equally old, just as their garden wallslike Lonsdale House—had been partly built with bricks and stone fragments from the King’s manor house, when it was demolished early in the eighteenth century.
So, whether the story was true or not, Angelica always took great care to look after their old mul- berry tree as carefully as possible. However, she was only too well aware that she wasn’t a dab hand with a saw. How did carpenters always make it look so easy? They never seemed to get the damn thing stuck halfway through a branch, as she had at the moment, she told herself grimly, swearing out loud as she wrestled with the saw, which was obstinately refusing to be either pushed or pulled free of the wood.
‘I am deeply shocked to hear a nicely broughtup girl using such disgraceful language? Whoa… careful!’
Angelica, who’d shrieked and jumped in fright at the sound of that familiar deep voice, was too busy trying to cling on to the old wooden ladder to have time to enquirer exactly how Luke had managed to gain access to the garden. Creaking and groaning, the ladder swayed perilously back and forth between the branches.
‘Hold on, I’ll be right with you,’ he called out, beginning to climb up to her fescue.
‘What do you think I’m d-doing?’ she gasped, clamping her eyes tightly shut, her hands frozen in terror on the top rung. ‘P-please hurry up—and get me out of here!’
A moment later, as he stood on the rung beneath her feet, she could feel the hard warmth of his body against her back.
‘It’s all right, darling. Relax—lean back against me. You’ll be quite safe,’ he murmured, reaching up to ease her rigid fingers gently off the rung.
‘If… if you hadn’t appeared out of n-nowhere, and given me such a f-fright,’ she stuttered angrily, ‘I’d never have…Aggh!’
Later, when she had both the time and the opportunity to work out what had happeded, Angelica realised that some of the rungs on the old ladder were none too safe. And Luke’s weight had proved to be the final straw. However, all she knew at the time was that they were both slipping swiftly downwards, as though In an express elevator, with Luke’s arms clasped tightly about her.
Dazed and shocked, Angelica was astonished on landing to find herself standing upright, and in one piece. As Luke carefully turned her around, she slumped helplessly against his broad chest, her legs feeling as if they’d suddenly been turned to jelly, and her knees knocking together like castanets.
‘You damn little fool!’ he rasped, almost shaking her inert form as he was seized by a sudden storm of anger. ‘If I hadn’t been here, God knows what would have happened! Don’t you realise that you could have been killed?’
And then he was kissing her roughly, without a shred of tenderness, as though the sheer ferocity of his cruel lips and harshly invasive tongue could somehow expunge his fear for her safety.
And Angelica, too, found herself caught up in the feverish, passionate force of his hard anger and fury. As always, when she found herself in this man’s arms, it felt as though she’d been set on fire, a flame roaring through her mind and trembling body, consuming all resistance and leaving only the driving need to yield in a molten mass of overwhelming need and desire.
She was being swept away on a tidal wave of pure pleasure, her whole world encompassed by the pressure of his lips on hers, the hard strength of his arms about her trembling figure. Mindless with passionate desire, she frantically arched her body against him, sharply aware of his hard arousal and the blinding revelation that she wanted nothing more than to yield—to surrender completely to the overwhelming, driving force inside her clamouring for release.
‘I’m not going to apologise for that kiss.’ His voice was ragged as he slowly raised his head. ‘It’s only a fraction of what you deserve for giving me such a hard time this week. Surely, Angelica,’ he added savagely, ‘you must have known that I’d track you down sooner or later?’
‘Yes, ‘I suppose I did,’ she muttered, her words muffled as she buried her face in his shoulder, still trying to come to terms with the revellation of her deep feelings for this man, a man who had not only betrayed her, but who was also heavily involved with another woman.
‘Then why do you keep on running away?’ he demanded harshly, leading her trembling figure over to a bench in a sunny corner of the garden.
‘Why do you think?’ she murmured, closing her eyes for a moment as she raised her face to t
he warm rays of the afternoon sun. ‘And how did you know I’d be out here in the garden this afternonn?’ she added wearily, before answering her own question. ‘It was Betty, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ he replied bluntly. ‘At least she has some sense in her head, which is more than I can say for you!’
‘So, now you’ve found me, what do you want, Luke? A quick look at the accounts?’ she queried bitterly.
‘Don’t be so damn stupid!’ he ground out through clenched teeth. ‘I couldn’t care less about your accounts-or only in so far as they worry and upset you.’
‘Well, in that case, why are you here?’ ‘Because, having given the matter some considerable thought, I now see that the solution to all our problems is for you and me to get married.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
ANGEHJGA stared at him open-monted astonastonishment for some moments.
‘What,…?’ she gasped finally. ‘What did you just say?’
‘It’s really very simple,’ Luke told her coolly, the ager over her narrow escape from injury slowly draining out of his long, tall body body as he leaned casually back on the bench. ‘I’m suggesting that we should get married.’
‘B-but…b-but why?’ she stammered, her mind in a complete daze.
‘Why not?’ he drawled calmly. ‘I would have thought it made perfect sense.’
‘You do…?’
‘Certainly. And, after that quite extraordinary outburset of yours in the Ritz hotel, it’s obvious that a marriage between us will be the fee perfect solution to both our problems.’
Angelica shook her head in distraction, convinosd that she must have a screw loose somewhere in her brain. Not only did she have absolutely no idea of what he was talking about, but it it felt as if she was listening to the answer to a riddle, without first having heard the question.
‘Look…I’m sorry to be so dim, but could we go back to the beginning?’ she asked him plaintively, brushing a distracted hand throught her long, pale hair. ‘I don’t know anything about what problems you may have—I’ve been too busy worrying about my own.’
He gave a caustic laugh. ‘I’m not surprised—especially with Lady Marshall on the war-path!’
‘All right! There’s no need for you to rub it in,’ she muttered glumly. ‘I know I shouldn’t have been so rude to the beastly old woman—not that I didn’t mean what I said, because I most definitely did!’ she added defiantly. ‘However, I do realise that I behaved very badly.’
‘Alas, I’m afraid you did,’ he murmured, his lips twitching with amusement. ‘Lady Marshall’s shrieks of rage, before collapsing into a state of complete hysterics, was a scene I’m not likely to forget in a hurry!’
‘OK, OK!’ She glowered at him. ‘But if you expect me to apologise to you…’
‘Apologise to me?’ He lifted a dark quizzical eyebrow. ‘Whatever for? Quite frankly, I haven’t seen anything so funny for a very long time!’
As he gave a sharp bark of sardonic laughter, Angelica closed her eyes for a moment. Was it possible that, in some mysterious way, she’d damaged her brain during that rapid slide down the ladder just now? Because surely Luke ought to be furious at the way she’d treated his girlfriend’s aunt?
‘I’m sorry, but I really don’t understand…’ She shook her head helplessly. ‘Can you please explain—and as simply as possible—exactly what’s going on? I mean…why this sudden proposal of marriage? Especially when it seemed fairly obvious the other night that your girlfriend is clearly expecting you to marry her,’ she added waspishly.
His features hardened to a chilly mask, but he merely shrugged before drawling coolly, ‘If I had ever considered the idea of marrying Eleanor Nicholson, I can assure you that I no long have any intention of doing so. Therefore there is no need for you to be worried, or—’
‘Me? Worried? Do me a favour, sunshine!’ Angelica gave a shrill, high-pitched laugh. ‘I couldn’t care less about your relationship with that awful woman—or her ghastly aunt. As far as I’m concerned, you’re more than welcome to them both. But if you think I’m going to marry you, just so they can get their feet in the door, here at Lonsdale House, you’re very much mistaken!’
‘Don’t be so damned silly!’ he growled. ‘There’s absolutely no question of my either betraying you, or of being in collusion with Lady Marshall.’
‘But… but I thought…’
‘For heaven’s sake, Angelica! Surely you must have realised that I’d never even met the old woman until after her birthday party at the Ritz. Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said?’
‘Yes, I have,’ she retorted. ‘But none of it seems to make any sense. If you’re not involved with Lady Marshall, what on earth are you doing here?’
‘May the good Lord give me strength!’ he ground out impatiently, brushing a hand roughly through his thick, dark hair. ‘It’s precisely because you badly need help in coping with the old harpy, as well as all your other problems, that a marriage between us makes perfect sense.’
‘It may be sense to you, but it sounds more like double Dutch to me,’ she sighed. ‘How about trying to keep this all very simple? Leaving my problems aside for the moment, why don’t you tell me about your reasons for wanting to get married?’
He regarded her from beneath his heavy eyelids in silence for some moments, before giving a shrug of his broad shoulders.
‘To put it very simply, I feel that I’m at a crossroads in my life,’ he began slowly. ‘Like many men in my position, there comes a time when you begin to realise that there’s a great deal more to life than the pursuit of money or success. Which is not to say that I haven’t enjoyed building up my own particular financial empire—because I have. However, I am now a very wealthy man, and I’m looking for some other worlds to conquer—or, possibly, just to enjoy doing something completely different with my life!’
‘Hold it!’ she demanded suddenly. ‘How old are you?’
He frowned. ‘Thirty-six. Although I can’t see what my age has to do with it.’
‘Well, aren’t you a bit young to be suffering from a mid-life crisis?’ she asked caustically. ‘And, if you’re trying to convince me that you’re really a sweet little pussy cat, forget it! Anyone further from being a SNAG would be hard to find.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
She sighed and rolled her eyes up at the sky. ‘If you don’t know that SNAG stands for Sensitive New Age Guy, maybe you really do have one foot in the grave, after all?’
‘Thank you for those few kind words,’ he snapped, his mouth tightening into a hard line as she gave him a malicious grin. ‘And I am definitely not a nice little pussy cat!’
‘No, you certainly aren’t!’ she agreed with feeling, adding quickly as his dark brows flew together in an angry frown, ‘OK, I’m sorry…’
‘Someone is going to wring your neck one of these days, Angelica,’ he grated. ‘And believe me you’ll deserve it! However, if I may continue…?’ he added silkily, a decidedly dangerous note of menace in his voice.
‘Er…yes, of course—er—carry on,’ she mumbled quickly.
‘I was merely pointing out that I’ve been. beginning to look at my way of life, and asking myself some pertinent questions. Such as: do I want to continue living in a huge, glamorous but definitely soulless penthouse apartment in Mayfair? And, while an address book full of the names of beautiful women is all very well, isn’t it time that I settled down with a wife and children? Also, is there really any point in continuing to amass money for its own sake? Should I put my talents to some better use— such as helping to organise and raise money for charities, for instance?’
‘Now, that really is a good idea.’ Angelica nodded with approval, ‘There are so many worthwhile causes just crying out for some help with their funds.’
‘I’m glad you approve,’ he murmured drily.
‘I’m not sure that I approve of your overflowing address book. But assume that dear Eleanor is in there som
ewhere, among your female hit-list?’
‘It would be extremely ungentlemanly of me to say anything about Eleanor Nicholson,’ he retorted curtly. ‘Except to mention that she’s a very cleveir and successful accountant who will undoubtedly make some lucky man a wonderful wife.’
‘I was under the impression, from what I saw at the Ritz, that you were all lined up to be the lucky man…’ she murmured caustically.
‘I’ve already stated my position as far as Eleanor is concerned,’ he told her firmly. ‘However, I can give you my solemn word that I had never met her aunt before I was introduced to her at the Ritz hotel.’
‘Well, I can tell you that Lady Marshall is a thoroughly nasty, evil woman!’ Angelica exclaimed heatedly. ‘Did you hear what she said about poor Betty?’
‘Yes, of course I did—just as everyone certainly heard your reply!’ He gave a bark of laughter. ‘However, I agree that Lady Marshall is to be avoided like the plague. I had no idea she was the chairman of your trustees, but I can easily understand your problems in trying to deal with the old bat!’
‘Well…! It’s beginning to look as if I may have misjudged you, Luke,’ she told him with a wide grin. ‘Maybe you really aren’t so bad after all!’
‘Thank you,’ he laughed.
‘However, although the whole idea is completely ridiculous, of course, I completely fail to see—even if you’re bored to sobs with your way of life—why you should want to marry me.’
‘I would have thought it was obvious,’ he shrugged. ‘Let’s look at your set-up. You have a part-time job as a tourist guide, but it only brings in a few pounds a week—certainly not enough to live on. You have inherited half of this charming house, with its weird and crazy museum, but you can’t sell it. Nor, at the same time, can you afford to keep it in good condition. In fact, it hangs like an albatross around your neck. And, just to compound your problems, you have a board of trustees whose chairman is obviously quite impossible to deal with.’