by Helen Brooks
She stared at him, colour burning in her cheeks and her hands clenched in her lap. How dared he say these things about her mother? How dared he? ‘I don’t know what went on all those years ago, Mr Steed, and neither do you, as it happens. You only have your father’s side of things. But I do know my mother and she would never have done what you’ve suggested. If she cared for your father as you say I’m sure she was in turmoil when my father came on the scene and she realised what she felt for him was the sort of love that lasts a lifetime. Because that’s what they had.’
‘How nice and how fortunate it was the wealthy son of a businessman and not the poor fisherman who made her heart beat faster.’
He was doing it again—saying her mother had married for money. ‘You’re disgusting, do you know that?’
‘Why? Because I’m telling you the truth?’
Marianne called him a name—one that made his eyes widen. ‘It’s not the truth, just your distorted version of it. I can’t help it if your father is a bitter old man who has poisoned your mind as well as his.’
‘Don’t talk about my father like that.’
Marianne reared up at the hypocrisy, her voice flying up the scale. ‘Your father? Your father! I’ll say what I like after your insinuations about my mother. She was a wonderful woman, the best, and never in a million years would she have married my father simply because he was going to inherit a business and a big house. She wasn’t like that.’
Her fury strangely seemed to calm him. His voice lower than it had been a moment ago and without the growl to it, he said, ‘Calm yourself, woman. You’re overreacting.’
Marianne didn’t think about what she did next; it was pure instinct. The sound of the slap echoed in the close confines of the car and immediately the handprint of her fingers were etched in red on his tanned face. She stared at him in the silence that had fallen, inwardly horrified at what she’d done but determined not to let him see it. She had never struck another person in her life.
Seconds ticked by. ‘Feel better?’ he drawled coldly.
She raised her chin. If she had tried to answer him she would have burst into tears and that was not an option.
‘I can see we are going to have to agree to disagree about certain elements in the past.’ He raised a hand to his face, flexing his jaw from side to side, one eyebrow raised. ‘That taken as read, at least we now have all the cards on the table, so to speak.’
Marianne gathered herself together with some effort. Cards on the table? Hardly. If Rafe Steed and his father bore such an immense grudge about the past, then why the proposal regarding Seacrest? It didn’t add up. Her voice as chilly as his had been, she said, ‘Why are you and your father buying my home, Mr Steed?’
He made a show of relaxing back in his seat but Marianne was sure it was just that—a show. He was as tense as she was inwardly, she knew it.
His blue eyes narrowed against the sunlight streaming in through the window, he said quietly, ‘I’ve told you why the offer has been made. My father and I are in the hotel business and have converted several suitable properties in the States. I think it would be healthy for him to have a project here rather than having to concentrate on his illness away from family and friends. He liked the idea of obtaining the house when I put the idea to him.’
‘Because you both feel you’re getting one over on my father?’ she asked baldly, deliberately not mincing her words. ‘Acquiring Seacrest would mean you’d secured the main thing which had persuaded my mother to marry my father, the way you see it, surely? Isn’t that so?’
He surveyed her indolently for a moment or two. ‘What a suspicious little mind you have, Miss Carr.’
‘What a nasty little mind you have, Mr Steed.’
‘I understand from Tom and Gillian that you are very like your mother.’ It wasn’t laudatory. ‘In looks, personality—everything.’
‘I hope so.’ Her head was high and her eyes steady.
‘She must have given the same appearance of fragility while being as—’ he paused, obviously changing his mind about the next word before he continued ‘—strong as an ox beneath that delicate exterior.’
He had been going to say something unpleasant. Marianne’s gaze never wavered as she said, ‘My mother was a very strong woman, as it happens. She was also gentle and sympathetic and loving. You needn’t take my word for that, ask anyone. But, on second thoughts, no, don’t. It doesn’t matter what you think. Not one iota.’
Hard-eyed, he said, ‘And mine was equally loved, so how do you think it makes me feel, knowing she never had the marriage she should have had?’
‘I don’t know, Mr Steed. But that was your parents’ business and no one else’s, not even yours. From what you’ve told me, your mother married your father knowing about his past and how he felt so she knew where she stood. If they were unhappy—’
‘I never said they were unhappy,’ he interrupted brusquely. ‘I think they were very happy in their own way.’
‘But it didn’t measure up to what you demanded they should feel about each other? They were supposed to have been the one and only loves in each other’s lives, is that it?’
She watched as a veil came down over the blue eyes, making his gaze unreadable. ‘There is no point in discussing this any further.’
She had never met a man who could get under her skin like this one. The arrogance—the sheer arrogance of thinking he could dismiss her after what he’d accused her mother of. ‘I disagree. You started this and you can jolly well do me the courtesy of answering. And don’t think you can hold the carrot of Seacrest dangling in front of my nose to make me agree black is white, because that won’t work. I’d rather lose Seacrest completely than compromise on what I’ve said to you. Do you understand?’
He glared at her. ‘Don’t talk to me as though I were ten years old.’
‘Then don’t act like it.’ She drew in a shuddering gasp of air, feeling as though someone had punched her in the solar plexus and desperately trying to firm her wobbly bottom lip. She would rather die than let him see how he’d devastated her.
She heard him swear softly under his breath and the next moment a large, crisp white handkerchief was placed in her hands. She reacted as though it were scalding-hot, shoving it back at him as she said, ‘I’m perfectly all right, thank you.’
‘Look, I didn’t mean to say all that, but you’re so…’
‘So what?’ Adrenaline was rushing in and it couldn’t have been more welcome after the last few seconds of being in danger of losing control and bursting into tears. ‘So like my mother? Well, I’ll take that as a compliment if you don’t mind.’
‘For crying out loud!’
The irritation in his voice was acute and, as Marianne fixed her eyes on her hands, she willed herself to calm down. He was a pig of a man and she hated him, but what upset her most was the knowledge that she could never agree to the proposal to work with him and his father and keep Seacrest now. Desolation as deep as the Cornish sea claimed her and she sat in silent misery as she forced her racing heart to steady.
Rafe had jerked to face the dashboard, his hands gripping the steering wheel and his countenance as dark as thunder. Out of the corner of her eye, her gaze fell onto his hands. They were powerful and very masculine, his fingers long and strong and a light dusting of black hair coating the backs of his hands. He wore no rings but what looked like an extremely expensive watch sat on his left wrist. His nails were short and immaculately clean. She liked that in a man.
Hauling her thoughts back from the path they were following, she asked herself why on earth she was thinking about Rafe Steed’s hands at a moment like this. Shock, most probably. The mind retreating into the mundane to cushion itself from the blow it had received. Not that there was anything mundane about Rafe Steed, she added with dark humour. That was one crime which could never be laid at his feet.
‘To address your accusation about our motives for acquiring Seacrest, Miss Carr,’ he said flatly a
fter a little while. ‘I plead not guilty, all right? And I know for a fact there was nothing of “getting one over on your father” in my father’s motives for being interested in the property. He knew the house from a small boy and had spent many happy hours in its grounds playing with your father and Tom, added to which he was upset to find out that Diane’s only child was to be turned out of her home. Genuinely upset. He is not a vindictive man, whatever you might think. It was as we were discussing the situation that the idea of acquiring Seacrest came to us. After all, Gillian had said something about you considering the possibility of a guest house.’
‘That was when I didn’t know about the debts and everything. I thought, at the worst, I had to pay for its upkeep and so on,’ Marianne said numbly. She didn’t know what to think about Andrew Steed’s apparent pity for her. It rankled acutely that she would be beholden to someone who had maligned her parents so badly.
‘My father and I thought of the partnership for practical reasons,’ Rafe continued, as though he had sensed what she was feeling. ‘I’m in the States most of the time and my father will not be in a position to contribute much physically to the alterations needed to set the hotel up and then the running of it once it’s a viable proposition. We’ve found in the past it pays dividends if someone is on board who actually has a fondness for the property, who cares about it.’
In spite of herself, Marianne’s interest was stirred. ‘Are your hotels in the States converted old houses and that sort of thing, then?’
‘Mostly, yes. We offer something different from the ultra-modern, chrome and glass establishments of the twenty-first century. Each of our properties are converted sympathetically. Some are large—eighty rooms or so—and others have merely a handful of rooms, as Seacrest will.’
He turned to face her again and she was conscious of the dark shadow of his chest hair under the thin cotton shirt he was wearing. Her mouth went dry. Ridiculous, but somehow her body kept insisting that she acknowledge her sexual awareness of this man when it was the last thing she wanted to do.
‘I don’t want to argue with you, Miss Carr,’ he said flatly. ‘I mean that. But I’m not prepared to let Seacrest go now my father has expressed an interest in acquiring the property. For that reason I shall buy the house, with or without you on board. If it helps your ultimate decision, most of my time will be spent seeing to our business in the States.’
Marianne flushed in spite of herself. She liked plain speaking but this man took it a step further. Nevertheless, it did help to know he wouldn’t be around much. She had the feeling one male Steed would be quite enough to deal with, even if Rafe’s father was an invalid. And if he was speaking truthfully when he’d declared their reasons for buying Seacrest—if it wasn’t some twisted way to get even with her father—then she’d be crazy to refuse the offer. Once Seacrest had been converted into a small hotel and everything was running smoothly, she might be able to find another post as an occupational therapist down here and leave things more to Crystal. Anything was possible, after all.
She raised her eyes, to find Rafe giving her a long, searching look. ‘The way I see it, my father was the injured party in all of this,’ he said expressionlessly, ‘although I appreciate you feel differently. I think he is being amazingly generous in honouring the memory of your mother by trying to help her daughter.’
‘You think I’m ungrateful.’ The antagonism which had begun to die down a little rose like a hot flood.
‘In a nutshell.’
Charming. ‘And I think you’re rude and overbearing and narrow-minded.’
‘Narrow-minded?’ Rafe objected, raising his brows. ‘Never.’
‘Blinkered, then.’ She wondered why he hadn’t minded rude and overbearing. ‘Seeing things only your way—the way your father has put them.’
‘Excuse me for pointing out the obvious, but aren’t you doing exactly the same?’ Rafe said mildly. ‘Seeing things purely from your mother and father’s standpoint?’
Whilst mentally acknowledging he was right, Marianne said vehemently, ‘That’s different.’
‘I thought it might be.’
Impossible man. Feeling outmanoeuvred, Marianne took refuge in cool dignity. ‘I’m not prepared to discuss this any longer and I suggest if this deal goes through that ought to be the criteria for the future, too. On the rare occasions we meet,’ she added crisply.
‘Suits me.’ His eyes had gone flat and cold.
‘Good.’ She looked at him and swallowed, feeling miserable. ‘Shall we go back to the others now?’
‘Of course.’
He had slid out of the low car and walked round to open her door for her while she was still fumbling with the handle, helping her out of the vehicle with the old-fashioned courtesy that was rare these days. But nice—very nice. Whilst being extremely capable and even fiercely independent on occasion, Marianne had never understood why some women objected to such little expressions of chivalry from a man.
They returned to the restaurant with nothing further being said and as they sat down at the table the waitress brought their first courses, which got them over an awkward moment. It was much later in the meal—over a wonderful dessert of pears poached in a rich citrus syrup—that Tom brought up the subject of the partnership. ‘Do I take it any differences have been ironed out?’ he asked carefully, and Rafe looked at her, one dark eyebrow quirked as he waited for her answer.
Marianne glanced from Rafe’s dark face to Crystal’s eager one and sighed inwardly. I can’t say no, she thought with resignation. It would be stupid. And he knows it. He knows he’s got me over a barrel. And maybe I have seemed ungrateful thus far, but only because of his comments about my parents. And his attitude. Oh, yes, his attitude needles me all right. Forcing a bright smile, she said, ‘I think so. Mr Steed and I had a heart-to-heart and have agreed to disagree about certain issues which do not affect the proposal.’
‘Right.’ Tom appeared slightly anxious. ‘Good, good.’ He clearly wanted to ask what the issues were but didn’t feel he could do so.
Crystal had no such inhibitions. Her expression changing, she leant forward and spoke directly to Marianne. ‘Look, sweetheart, if you’re not happy with something, then we’ll think again, OK? What are these issues?’
‘I’ll explain later,’ Marianne said in a voice which warned Crystal not to pursue it.
‘That’s settled, then,’ Rafe spoke into the small silence which had fallen, his voice lazy and cool. ‘I’ll phone my father later on and, in the meantime, instruct my solicitor to have a word with you, Tom. We’d like to get this finalised quickly. I expect completion on the Haywards’ property within two weeks and once my father is over here I see no reason to delay work on Seacrest.’
‘Hang on a sec.’ Marianne felt as if she’d been run over by a steamroller. Trying to control the host of emotions which had been rampaging through her head since their talk in the car park, she said, ‘I’ve got to give in my notice at work and on my flat. There’s loads to do.’
‘Quite.’ Piercing blue eyes bored into her face. ‘Which is why delay is not an option.’
Sticking her heels in, Marianne glared at him. ‘I have to give at least a month’s notice at work.’
‘In view of the unusual circumstances, I’m sure they would view things compassionately,’ he said smoothly. ‘Would you like me to have a word with someone?’
‘No, I would not,’ she said in a clipped voice. The very idea! ‘I’m perfectly capable of saying anything which needs to be said, thank you, but there is no way I would leave them in the lurch by going early. I shan’t be moving down here for a month.’ She didn’t add, Take it or leave it, but nevertheless the words hung in the air.
‘Very well.’
Marianne stared into the dark face. She had won the first small confrontation, so why didn’t it feel like it? Seconds later, she knew it was because she hadn’t won.
‘I shall therefore bring the selection of designs and ideas I’ve
asked my architect to sketch out to you in London for discussion,’ Rafe continued silkily. ‘Until we’ve decided on the basics, work cannot commence. What’s your address and work and home numbers? And your mobile number, too, please, in case I can’t reach you any time.’
Marianne was lost for words. Here at Seacrest, she had Crystal to act as something of a buffer between them but in London there would be no one. She didn’t want to entertain Rafe Steed in her small flat any more than she had wanted to sit in his car with him, but somehow that was going to happen. She gave him the required information stiffly, ignoring the glint in the blue eyes which told her more clearly than any words that he was thoroughly enjoying her discomfiture.
She managed to remain civil throughout the coffee stage of the lunch but by the time they left the restaurant she felt her nerves were stretched as tight as piano wire. The feeling wasn’t helped when Rafe took her hand in the car park, shaking it and then holding her fingers a few seconds longer than was necessary when he said, ‘Till we meet again in London, then.’
He was laughing at her. It didn’t show in the expressionless carved features of his face, but his eyes were a giveaway.
Deciding her only course was to take his words at face value and pretend she didn’t know, Marianne said carefully, ‘Goodbye, Mr Steed.’
‘I think if we’re going to be partners we’d better drop the formality, don’t you, Marianne?’
Again the sound of her name on his lips caused the traitorous shiver deep inside. Praying he hadn’t sensed it, she said tightly, ‘OK, fine,’ and snatched her fingers back.
She was aware of his eyes boring into the small of her back as she and Crystal walked towards her little car, which was parked some way from his. It was only when they were inside and she had started the engine that she found herself breathing again.
‘You all right, sweetheart?’ Crystal asked quietly as Marianne swung the car round too fast and screeched past the two men without responding to Tom’s raised hand.