His Cinderella Mistress

by Carole Mortimer

  January looked at him frustratedly. ‘Why are you here, Max?’

  He shrugged. ‘May invited me.’

  She gave a dazed shake of her head. ‘You know, when we were younger, I was always the one who brought home the wounded birds and animals, May was always the one who warned me they wouldn’t survive away from their own environment. Their own kind,’ she added pointedly.

  His gaze was narrowed now, that nerve once again pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘I hope you’re not implying that I’m wounded in some way?’ he finally bit out harshly.

  Her eyes flashed impatiently. ‘I was implying that you should stay with your own kind!’ Obviously her sarcasm was completely lost on this man! But then, she hadn’t had as much practice at it as March had. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t learn…

  Max’s brow cleared, his smile rueful now. ‘And exactly what is my own kind, January?’

  ‘Predatory!’ she answered with satisfaction.

  He gave a disarming grin. ‘I have a feeling that any man would find himself completely outgunned—as well as outnumbered—by the three Calendar sisters!’

  January did her best to maintain her furious expression—and failed miserably as her lips twitched and she began to smile, too. What was it about this man? How could she start off being angry or distant with him—usually angry!—and then end up grinning at him like an idiot? It didn’t make any sense!

  ‘January,’ he murmured softly, crossing the room to stand in front of her, his hands moving up to gently cradle each side of her face as he looked down at her searchingly. ‘I really thought it might have been you who was attacked last night,’ he groaned huskily.

  Her breath caught in her throat. ‘And that would have bothered you?’

  A frown darkened his brow. ‘Of course it would have bothered me!’ he rasped. ‘You must have known that…?’ He looked down at her frustratedly, fingers lightly caressing her brows.

  She gave a shake of her head. ‘I’m not sure what I know any more, Max. One minute you’re—you’re making love to me, and the next—! Well, we both know what happened next,’ she remembered hardly, deliberately moving away, his hands falling back to his sides.

  Just in time, as it happened, her two sisters coming back into the kitchen at that moment, May’s sharp gaze instantly taking in the fact that the two of them stood well apart, the tension between them tangible.

  ‘March was just telling me that there’s been another attack,’ May said briskly as she moved to check the food cooking on top of the Aga.

  ‘I meant to tell you earlier,’ January groaned. ‘But I—it slipped my mind.’ She deliberately avoided looking at Max—because they both knew he was the reason she had forgotten to mention this latest attack to her sister.

  ‘I meant to tell you all when I came in,’ March muttered self-disgustedly. ‘But for some reason it slipped my mind, too.’ She gave Max a pointed grimace, having changed into black denims and a bright orange jumper, the latter eye-catching, to say the least.

  ‘There seems to be a lot of it about,’ Max murmured appreciatively.

  ‘Yes,’ March drawled wryly.

  ‘Tell them the worst part about it, March,’ May encouraged impatiently.

  ‘What—? Oh, yes.’ March nodded. ‘It was Josh,’ she announced slightly incredulously.

  ‘What was?’ January prompted dazedly, still confused from having Max touch her in that way. Would she ever understand him?

  ‘Josh…?’ Max repeated slowly. ‘The same Josh who is marrying your cousin—Sara, isn’t it?—on Saturday?’ He looked accusingly at January, the sharpness of that gaze reminding her that it was the same Josh who had kissed her on Saturday evening!

  ‘That’s the one,’ March confirmed. ‘Although I’m not sure if the wedding will still be going ahead, in the circumstances?’ She looked across at May.

  ‘I’ll telephone Aunt Lyn in a moment.’ May nodded. ‘How awful for them all.’ She shook her head distractedly.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ January protested, having been listening to this conversation with increasing incredulity.

  She had known Josh most of her life, had, as she’d told Max on Saturday, been at school with him, and while there was no doubting Josh could be a little boisterous at times, liked to have fun, he also didn’t have a vicious bone in his body.

  ‘They have to have the wrong man.’ She shook her head dismissively. ‘Josh isn’t capable of attacking anyone, let alone seven women.’

  ‘Oh, no, you misunderstood me,’ March apologized with a grimace. ‘Josh was the one who was attacked,’ she explained disgustedly. ‘Beaten up pretty badly, from what I gather.’

  What the hell—?

  Now Max was as confused as January looked. Although, he had to admit, a few seconds ago he had been angry with her at her defence of the other man…!

  ‘But he’s a man!’ January burst out incredulously.

  As well she might. As far as Max had been able to gather—although, having been out of the country for several months, he was obviously a latecomer to these random attacks—all the other victims had been women.

  ‘Are they sure it was the Night Striker?’ He frowned his own puzzlement.

  ‘Positive,’ March confirmed, seeming to have forgotten her antagonism towards him—for the moment. ‘Same M.O., or whatever they call it.’ She grimaced.

  ‘Modus operandi,’ Max murmured frowningly. ‘Latin,’ he explained as he glanced up to find all three sisters looking at him.

  March nodded, her gaze mocking. ‘Being a lawyer, you would know that.’

  His mouth twisted. ‘I wouldn’t be a very good one if I didn’t.’

  ‘And we’re all sure that you’re very good,’ March taunted.

  ‘Thank you,’ he accepted dryly, easily guessing it wasn’t meant as a compliment; March was more sharp-tongued than he was himself. ‘I accept that the method may be the same,’ he acknowledged slowly. ‘But the fact that the victim was a man this time makes it totally different.’

  In fact, it didn’t make much sense to him. Okay, so the last six victims, all women, had been badly beaten rather than raped, but that still didn’t explain why it had been a man who was attacked this time… The good-natured Josh, of all people. No wonder the police were being a little cagey about the information they gave out!

  ‘Sara must be so upset,’ January said worriedly.

  As Max might have known she would; of the three sisters, January was definitely the most empathetic.

  ‘If none of you mind waiting for dinner, I’ll telephone Aunt Lyn now and see how Josh is. And Sara, of course,’ May murmured distractedly before leaving the room.

  ‘And I’ll open the wine,’ Max suggested briskly, seeing that a certain amount of shock was starting to set in with all the sisters now; hearing of the attacks the last six months couldn’t have been very pleasant, having it arrive on their own doorstep, so to speak, must be even more shocking. ‘Could you get me a corkscrew, January?’ he said briskly as neither sister moved.

  ‘Oh. Of course.’ She moved frowningly to one of the drawers, taking out the corkscrew to hand it to him distractedly.

  ‘And some glasses, March?’ he prompted lightly as he deftly removed the cork.

  March blinked, her smile derisive as she seemed to guess what he was doing. ‘Certainly, sir,’ she drawled, reaching up to take four wineglasses from one of the cabinets.

  ‘Thank you,’ Max accepted dryly, starting to pour the wine.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ March derided. ‘Mmm,’ she murmured appreciatively after her first sip of the wine. ‘Just what we need to cheer us all up.’

  ‘Maybe I should have brought two bottles,’ Max teased.

  ‘Maybe you should.’ March nodded, grey-green eyes dancing with humour.

  ‘January?’ Max prompted as she made no effort to pick up one of the glasses.

  In fact, she seemed totally distracted, he acknowledged with a searching frown, her face un
naturally pale, her eyes so deep a grey they looked almost black.

  It was awful that their cousin’s future husband had been the Night Striker’s latest victim, but unless Max was mistaken, January seemed more stunned by it than her sisters…?

  ‘I still can’t believe it.’ She shook her head before picking up her glass of wine and taking a sip.

  For all the notice she took of its delicate taste and fragrance he might as well have brought a bottle of cheap plonk!

  ‘There must have been some sort of mistake,’ January said. ‘I can’t believe anyone could have deliberately set out to hurt Josh. He’s just so nice, so unassuming; as far as I’m aware, he doesn’t have an enemy in the world—’ She broke off, a stricken look on her face now as she slowly turned to look at Max.

  It was a look Max didn’t like one little bit!

  Surely January couldn’t think—didn’t believe—

  ‘January?’ he prompted harshly.

  ‘Yes?’ She swallowed hard, looking more bewildered than ever now.

  ‘March, would you leave us for a few minutes?’ Max requested, his gaze still fixed icily on January.

  ‘January?’ March prompted softly.

  ‘I—yes. Fine.’ January nodded dazedly, her gaze studiously avoiding Max’s now.

  ‘In that case, I think I’ll go and see how May is getting on,’ March drawled before leaving.

  Max moved to stand in front of January, his hand under her chin as he tilted her face up to his, forcing her to look at him. And he didn’t like what he saw in her eyes!

  ‘You don’t seriously think I had anything to do with this attack on Josh?’ he rasped disbelievingly.

  Because he could clearly see that the possibility had definitely crossed her mind—if only briefly!

  Although it was starting to fade now, that bewilderment fading from her eyes, too. To be replaced by self-derision. ‘No, of course I don’t.’ She gave a firm shake of her head. ‘Of course not,’ she added more strongly.

  His hands moved to her shoulders as he shook her slightly. ‘I bought the man a drink, for goodness’ sake,’ he ground out. ‘He bought me one, too!’ He tightened his hands painfully on her shoulders, furious that the thought could have crossed her mind, even for a minute.

  But he knew that it had, no matter what January might claim to the contrary.

  And could he really blame her? He had been blowing hot and cold with her from the moment they’d met, his actions appearing completely illogical. One evening he had been prepared to knock Josh to the ground for daring to kiss January, and the next evening, following his discovery of exactly who she was, of how dangerous she was to his own personal equilibrium, he had mocked her for responding to him. Not exactly consistent, was he?

  Nevertheless, he found her suspicion of him, even for that brief moment, very unsettling… And hurtful…?

  January was smiling now, albeit ruefully. ‘No doubt that alone was enough to make the two of you bosom buddies!’

  His mouth tightened. ‘Not necessarily,’ he allowed, realizing how ridiculous his claim must have sounded; the fact that the two had bought each other a drink did not change the fact that seconds earlier Max had been about to hit the other man! His hands dropped away from her shoulders as he stepped back. ‘No matter what you may think to the contrary, I am not a violent man. Perhaps I had better leave—’

  ‘Please don’t leave on my account,’ January cut in awkwardly. ‘I—I’m sorry.’ She pushed the darkness of her hair back from her face. ‘I’m just a little—upset.’ She grimaced.

  He could see that, and he was sorry for it. But, at the moment, he had to admit to being just a little upset himself! With himself, mainly, for having behaved in such a way as to have given January even the briefest of doubts where he was concerned.

  He shook his head. ‘I still think it might be better if I left—’

  ‘Who’s leaving?’ March prompted lightly as she came back into the room.

  ‘I am,’ Max told her forcefully. ‘I believe I’ve already outstayed my welcome!’ he added hardly.

  March grimaced as she gave a shake of her head. ‘That may or may not be the case, but I somehow don’t think you’ll be leaving us just yet,’ she informed him ruefully. ‘I just listened to the news on television; the snowstorm has turned into a blizzard,’ she explained at his questioning look. ‘They are advising all drivers in the area to stay at home, if at all possible.’

  Home.

  It was a long time since he had had one of those. If, indeed, he ever really had. But the Calendar farm was certainly far from being that to him!

  ‘I’m afraid March is right, Max,’ May assured him as she came back into the room. ‘I asked Aunt Lyn if it was possible for us to visit Josh later this evening. She assured me that it was, but that there had been a warning given out for people not to travel. March turned on the news and—I’m afraid you won’t be going anywhere tonight, Max,’ she informed him lightly.

  His narrowed gaze moved questioningly to January—just in time for him to see the look of dismay on her face she wasn’t quick enough to hide!

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘THIS is really very good of you.’

  January turned to look at Max as he stood in the doorway watching her make up the bed he was to sleep in.

  And it wasn’t very good of her at all. She knew it wasn’t. And so did he.

  She still couldn’t believe those brief feelings of suspicion she had had about him earlier. Worse, couldn’t believe she had let Max see those suspicions.

  Of course he wasn’t responsible for the attack on Josh. Yes, Max had been angry at the younger man on Saturday when Josh had dared to kiss her, had looked more than capable of hitting Josh when he’d pulled him away from January. But on Sunday evening, the very next day, Max had made it more than plain that she would never be more than a brief flirtation to him. Rather nullifying any feelings of violence he might have previously felt towards Josh!

  She drew in a deep breath before straightening, facing Max across the width of her father’s bedroom. ‘I really do apologise for—well, for any thoughts I may have had earlier—’

  ‘That I’m the person who attacked Josh?’ Max finished scathingly as he strolled further into the room. ‘If it makes you feel any better, January, I’m sure the police will have been informed about my—little disagreement, with Josh on Saturday evening, and will be following it up accordingly. They will no doubt be questioning me about the incident,’ he explained dryly as she looked puzzled.

  January could feel her cheeks paling. She hadn’t thought of that.

  How awful.

  But no more awful, surely, than those brief suspicions she had had concerning Max?

  ‘Was this your father’s bedroom?’

  She turned back to Max, to see him looking interestedly around the room, her father’s brush and comb set still on the dressing table, along with several paperback books, a photograph of the three sisters taking pride of place beside the clock on the bedside cabinet.

  Max reached out to pick up the photograph, studying it for several long moments, before putting it carefully back in place. ‘Cute,’ he murmured.

  January turned away. She had been feeling awkward with him all evening. As the four of them had eaten dinner together. As they’d turned the television on later that evening to listen to the weather forecast and heard that the blizzard had now spread over most of the country. The warning had been repeated about not travelling unless it was absolutely necessary, accompanied by several scenes where people hadn’t heeded that warning, showing dozens of vehicles that had had to be abandoned.

  The least she could do, January had decided, was to offer to make up Max’s bed for the night.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind?’ She indicated the bedroom. ‘The only other bed we have available is in the small bedsit we had converted over the garage—and that hasn’t been used since the summer.’ She grimaced.

  Max looked at her with narrow
ed eyes. ‘That would be the accommodation used by the help you had staying last summer?’

  January gave him a sharp look. How did he—? Of course, she and May had discussed that in front of him earlier today. Although she sensed more than casual interest in Max’s remark…?

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed slowly, watching him warily now.

  His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘I wouldn’t have thought you would particularly care whether or not I froze to death over there.’

  Of course she cared. Too much, as it happened.

  She shrugged. ‘That may be a little difficult to explain to anyone who comes looking for you,’ she returned tartly.

  He grimaced. ‘That’s always supposing that someone did.’

  January gave a humourless smile. ‘I’m sure Jude Marshall would wonder what had happened to his lawyer!’

  Max had once again picked up the photograph of the three sisters, glancing across at her. ‘He just might at that,’ he conceded dryly. ‘You were very young when this photograph was taken.’ He frowned down at the image.

  ‘About two and a half.’ January nodded, strolling over to look down at the photograph. ‘March was three and a half, May a little over four.’

  ‘Three peas in a pod,’ Max drawled, referring to what January had said was her father’s description of them. ‘There seems to be someone standing behind you,’ he continued frowningly. ‘There, you see.’ He pointed to the hand resting on May’s left shoulder and another on March’s right, January sandwiched between her two sisters. ‘Your father?’ he prompted interestedly.

  She shook her head. ‘My father took the photograph.’

  Max looked even more puzzled. ‘Then who—?’

  ‘My mother,’ she told him abruptly, taking the photograph out of his hand and returning it to its original place on the bedside cabinet.

  Max looked at her frowningly. ‘Your mother? But—’