by Annie West
‘Right?’
‘Absolutely.’ His eyes shone. ‘I had a lot of time to dream as a boy. I spent my days exploring the Hall, absorbing its history and traditions and planning how it would be when it was mine. The old place became my family in many ways. It was my mainstay.’
‘So that’s why you’re here through the renovations.’ Ravenna had wondered why he didn’t stay in London and leave the detail to his project manager. She’d thought at first it was because he wanted to keep a close eye on her.
‘I want the job done properly.’
There was that perfectionist streak again. Everything had to be done just right before Jonas would be satisfied.
‘You wanted it furnished in a traditional style to match what you’d known when you were young?’ Or more probably, from what he’d said, to bring it up to a standard he’d never known as a child when money had grown shorter each month.
Jonas shrugged. ‘Maybe. Though my tastes have changed. Traditional with a modern twist perhaps.’ He strode to the open stable door to gaze at the Hall, automatically stooping to pat an adoring Timothy, who shadowed him.
‘When it’s done I’ll hold a ball. That’s a Deveson tradition that got dropped over the years. This year it will be a turning point.’ Jonas turned and she read anticipation in his face. ‘I’ll want you there, Ravenna.’
Her heart fluttered, till she reminded herself the housekeeper had a vital role in any big house function.
‘Of course. I’ll supervise the catering.’
He nodded. ‘It will be a big job but we’ll do it.’
Ravenna felt a tiny jolt of pleasure at his ‘we’. They worked well together, perhaps because of the unspoken boundaries they’d been careful not to cross.
‘But I don’t want you behind the scenes.’ His gaze collided with hers and her skin tingled at the approval she saw there. ‘After all your hard work I want you at the party, not in the kitchen. You deserve to celebrate too.’
Ravenna blinked, a tiny trail of fire flaring in her blood. It was the closest he’d come to hinting he’d forgiven her for the money. Would the celebration signal the end of her servitude? The weight she’d borne so long lightened a little.
Working in service reinforced all the insecurities of her youth. Despite the ease of the past couple of months, it still stuck in her craw to be a servant, especially here.
‘Ravenna?’ Jonas watched her expectantly. ‘You’ll come?’ So it wasn’t an order. It was an invitation. Ravenna smiled.
‘Of course. How could I miss celebrating you achieving your dream?’
He shook his head. ‘Not quite. This place is my heritage, a part of me. But the refurbishment is just the first step.’
‘Really? What else is there?’ She reached up to stroke Hector’s cheek as he snuffled at her pocket, searching for treats. She could get used to the warm, comfortable smell of horse and hay. In fact, she could get used to life at Deveson Hall with an ease that surprised her.
Jonas surveyed the mansion that had come to life under his supervision.
‘I loved this place as a kid but even I could see it wasn’t a home. It was cold and unloved, despite the best efforts of our housekeeper.’ He paused so long Ravenna thought he wouldn’t go on.
When he spoke again it was in a low, musing voice that made her wonder if he talked more to himself than her.
‘That’s what I want. A home. Something more than the apartments in London and New York. A place with heart.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his feet. ‘A place for a family. A wife who’ll love the place as I do. We’ll fill the old place with children.’ He bent to pat Timothy as the Labrador bumped his leg. ‘And a muddle of dogs and other animals. I’ll make it a real home.’
Ravenna clutched Hector’s mane.
Home. A family.
It shouldn’t surprise her. Why else renovate Deveson Hall? Jonas wouldn’t want to live there alone.
Fill the old place with children.
Her stomach dipped in an abrupt roller-coaster curve that hollowed her insides, turning them queasy.
She’d listened to Jonas’ plans for the Hall with an approving smile. Wistfully she’d almost seen herself as part of that, despite her resolve to keep her emotional distance. In a hidden chamber of her heart had lurked the hope that one day they could put the past behind them and start again—pursue that connection she still felt to him just as strongly as the day they’d shared their bodies.
Then he’d mentioned children.
Her hand crept to her cramping belly, over the womb she knew was barren.
Months ago, shocked at the news of her cancer diagnosis and the need for early action, she’d told herself infertility was a small price to pay for the treatment that would give her a chance to live.
She’d always wanted children but she was young, yet to find a man with whom she wanted to spend her life.
Ravenna had concentrated on being grateful she’d survived, refusing to regret what couldn’t be cured—the chance to bear her own children.
But now the void within yawned wide and pain poured in.
She was crazy ever to have imagined she could build a relationship with Jonas. Everything stood against it. Their history. The theft. Her background and social status. She didn’t fit in his world. She never would.
And she could never give any man children. She was strong, capable and worthy of a good man’s love. But she lacked—
Hot tears prickled her eyes and she blinked. She hadn’t cried through months of treatment. She wouldn’t start now.
Quietly, leaving Jonas to his dreams, she turned and slipped out through the other door.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JONAS MANOEUVRED THE Aston Martin through the city streets on autopilot. His attention was all for Ravenna, sitting pale and subdued beside him.
These last weeks she’d changed. They still worked well together but that spark of camaraderie, that sense of being comfortable together had gone.
Perhaps it was his fault for not addressing the question of how long he expected her to work for him. The money she’d taken was substantial, but the effort she’d put into Deveson Hall had been remarkable. Without her organisational skills, eye for detail and hard work there’d be no celebratory opening ball next week.
Who could blame her for wanting to end their arrangement?
Yet he’d avoided the issue. He couldn’t imagine the place without her.
The realisation made him frown.
No one was indispensable in his life. No one except the wife he’d marry once the Hall was ready.
He’d spent the last couple of years considering potential brides, taking his time sorting through likely candidates before settling a few months ago on Helena Worthington. Beautiful, gracious and warm-hearted, she’d make an excellent spouse and mother. Born and bred on her family’s vast country estate, she lived in London, working at an exclusive gallery. She had the skills to make him an excellent hostess.
One of the reasons for the ball was to see her in his home and check he’d made the right choice before finalising his plans. They’d been out a few times in the past and she was definitely interested, but he’d kept things light till he was sure.
Beside him Ravenna shifted. He really should talk to her about the future.
He could offer her top dollar to stay permanently as housekeeper. She’d run the Hall with the brisk efficiency and empathy for the place that he required.
But keeping an ex-lover on his staff? It went against every instinct. No matter that they’d proved they could work together and put those few hours of weakness behind them.
Almost behind them.
Jonas set his jaw and confronted the truth. Not a day passed when he didn’t remember in glorious detail the incand
escent pleasure of sex with Ravenna. He enjoyed being with her. Her quick wit, her indomitable attitude, her pleasure in so many things he enjoyed, like seeing the gardens come to life, celebrating the completion of each room, even smiling over the antics of Timothy and Hector.
Until a few weeks ago. Something had changed and he couldn’t work out what. He only knew he didn’t like it.
‘Where exactly is it you’re going?’ Jonas asked as she pleated her skirt with restless fingers.
‘Just a few streets away. You can drop me anywhere here. I would have been quite happy catching the train. You really don’t need to go out of your way.’
Which was the most she’d said on the whole journey. If he didn’t know better he’d think she was babbling.
Ravenna never babbled. She was articulate and composed. Except that day they’d been naked together and ecstasy had stolen her voice. Predictably, arousal stirred at the memory, and a deep-seated satisfaction.
Hell! He shouldn’t feel anything like this for Ravenna. Not now, not when he was planning to marry. But the sexual attraction between them hadn’t yet dimmed, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.
Jonas forced himself to concentrate on the traffic rather than the past.
Yet something was wrong and he couldn’t ignore it. Over the months at the Hall Ravenna’s colour had improved—she wasn’t pale and fragile as when they’d met in France. But now that healthy glow had faded.
‘Where will I collect you?’
Her head swung round, her eyes large and startled. ‘There’s no need. I’ll catch the train.’
‘My business won’t take long so I can pick you up whenever you like. Just give me the address.’
‘Really, I—’
‘Unless you want me to wait now?’
‘Up here.’ She pointed abruptly at a café. ‘If you come by and I’m not here, then just go on without me and I’ll find my own way back.’
Jonas suspected she had no intention of meeting him and fobbed him off with a place chosen at random. Once he’d have suspected she was plotting to run away and escape the consequences of her crime but now he knew better. Concern filled him.
‘Very well.’ He manoeuvred the car into a recently vacated spot and watched her fumble with the door. ‘I’ll meet you in an hour or so.’
Ravenna nodded and got out, walking away without looking back.
Jonas watched her go, telling himself it wasn’t his business she kept secrets. She had a right to a personal life. But the tension in her rigid body was palpable.
He waited till she’d rounded the corner before he got out and followed.
* * *
Ravenna pushed open the clinic door and emerged into the open air. She breathed deep, filling her lungs with the city scents of wet pavement and exhaust fumes. It was better than the not-quite-neutral smell she associated with hospitals and doctors’ waiting rooms that dredged up bleak memories.
She grabbed the railing at the top of the few steps to the street and gathered herself, feeling the adrenalin still coursing through her system after the nervous wait to hear the results of those recent tests.
Her hands clamped the metalwork as emotion hit.
‘Ravenna?’
She lifted her head to find Jonas on the step below, his face level with hers. She blinked moist eyes and drew in a breath redolent with that tangy scent she always associated with him.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Waiting for you.’ His voice was harsh and his expression grim. ‘Come on.’ He took her elbow, his grip surprisingly gentle given his expression. ‘Let’s get away from this place.’
She followed his gaze to the sign beside the door, proclaiming exactly what branch of medicine the staff practised.
He led her down the street and into the sort of exclusive restaurant in which she hoped one day to work.
She hesitated on the threshold. ‘There’s no need for this. I’m ready to go now.’
‘Well I’m not.’ He swept her into the beautifully appointed dining room and secured a quiet table before Ravenna could do more than blink owlishly at the expensive furnishings.
‘A drink?’ he asked as she seated herself.
‘Nothing, thanks.’
‘Cognac for me,’ Jonas said to the waiter before turning back to her, his eyes steely. ‘Don’t tell me you wouldn’t like something after visiting that place.’
He was right. She was on edge and had been all day with that appointment looming. At least it was over. She sank back in her seat with a sigh. ‘A sauvignon blanc if you have it, please.’ Ravenna smiled at the waiter who nodded and passed over two leather-bound menus before leaving them.
‘Are you all right?’ Jonas leaned towards her across the fine linen tablecloth, his gaze intent.
‘Fine, thanks. Just a little tired.’ Yet tension eddied in her stomach. He’d seen where she went, which meant she couldn’t fob him off with vague answers. She’d have to explain, which meant revealing what she’d kept hidden all these months.
It would be a relief, she decided. It had been a strain, lying all this time.
She opened her mouth to speak but halted when he leaned across and took her hand in his. It was the first time he’d touched her since—
No. She wouldn’t go there.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were ill?’ His voice was hoarse and Ravenna read intense emotion in his silvery gaze.
‘I’m not.’ She shook her head, her heart lightening. When she’d left the clinic she’d still been numb, just coming to grips with the news, but now she felt happiness surge. ‘I’m healthy.’ Her mouth widened in a smile that felt wonderful. She’d been so worried her remission might be short-lived, perhaps because she’d felt so depressed these last weeks.
‘Thank God!’ His fingers squeezed hers. ‘When I saw you go in there...’ He shook his head.
‘You followed me?’
‘You were anxious. I knew something was wrong.’
Ravenna stared. Jonas Deveson had followed her because he cared about her? Her heart leapt and she had a struggle to keep calm.
It made no difference that he’d been concerned. There wasn’t anything between them. There could never be.
‘So it was a false alarm? You thought you had cancer?’ He sat back in his seat, still holding her hand. She should pull away, but she liked the sensation and it was probably the last time he’d touch her—he was so adept at keeping his distance now.
Ravenna drew a slow breath. ‘No, not a false alarm. I had cancer. I don’t now.’
‘Ravenna?’ Shock lined his face.
‘I’m in remission. I have been for a while. This was just another check-up to make sure nothing had changed. I’ve had several, but this time I thought the results might be—’ She shrugged, not wanting to admit she’d been so down lately that she’d half convinced herself her illness had returned.
The waiter arrived with their drinks and, at a signal from Jonas, left without taking their order for food. Jonas reached out and grabbed the glass of cognac, his eyes not leaving hers. He tossed the liquid back in one quick movement then put the empty glass down.
Guilt stirred. Not because she hadn’t told him about her illness. That was private. But because he’d obviously been worried.
‘I’m sorry, Jonas.’
‘Don’t be.’ His voice was gruff. ‘That’s excellent news. I’m just...surprised to know you’ve been ill.’ He paused, his fingers threading hers. ‘How long has it been?’
Ravenna hesitated. But she was sick of lying. Surely now, when he heard her out, Jonas would give up his idea of revenge against her mother. He’d already had his pound of flesh after all.
She hoped she was right.
‘Ravenna?’
‘
Last year I was diagnosed with leukaemia.’ She saw his eyes widen. His firm grip tightened. ‘I was advised to have treatment straight away. The cancer was aggressive but potentially curable. And they were right. I’m well now.’ Joy made her smile again.
‘How long before I met you?’
Ravenna’s gaze dropped to her untouched glass of wine then up to the flat line of Jonas’ mouth.
‘When we met in Paris I’d just come from a Swiss sanatorium. I’d been there, recuperating.’
‘I see.’ His expression didn’t change but his gaze turned laser sharp. ‘Why didn’t you tell me when we met?’
Ravenna tugged her hand but his grip didn’t ease. It kept her anchored within his warm grasp. Could he feel her pulse trip faster?
‘It wasn’t relevant. It’s not the sort of thing to share with strangers.’
‘I was hardly that, Ravenna.’ His tone made her nape prickle. ‘Could it be because you didn’t want to admit you needed my money to fund the health resort?’
She sighed. ‘You’re sharp, aren’t you?’ Not that it mattered now. He’d have to know it all. She’d just have to do her best to protect her mother.
‘Sharp enough to realise if you were recuperating in Switzerland you weren’t in my father’s Paris apartment, forging his signature.’
* * *
Jonas felt his gut plunge hard and fast, like a stone in deep water.
He remembered Ravenna in Paris—proud and defiant, throwing her guilt in his teeth. To deflect him? Of course. And he’d been so wrapped up in his hatred of Piers and Silvia that he hadn’t stopped to question.
He’d seen how pale Ravenna was, how delicate her wrist as he shackled it and pulled her to him. He recalled how fragile her body had seemed compared with her in-your-face attitude.
Because she’d been ill.
Too ill to fight back?
Guilt was a raw slash of pain to his belly. He’d bullied her when she was vulnerable. What did that make him?
Jonas dragged his free hand through his hair. No wonder her clothes hadn’t fitted. She must have lost weight in therapy. He’d been sure she’d dressed to project waif-like vulnerability for that antiques dealer. He’d been so ready to make snap judgements, hadn’t he?