by Helen Brooks
By the time she arrived at Seacrest with her personal belongings and suitcases filling every inch of space in her little Fiesta, she felt mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted. The weather didn’t help. It had been raining on and off for days and the roads were wet and grey and misty.
After ascertaining that she and Crystal were seeing Tom the next day to go through some documents which needed her signature, Marianne pleaded a headache and went for a walk on the beach below the house to clear her head.
A wet shroud coated the landscape and it was unseasonably chilly. She spent a miserable hour or two wandering along the cold seashore, the sea mist turning the coastline a hazy grey and the small rock pools into slippy traps. There was the odd brave family on the beach, determined to make the most of their summer holiday whatever the weather, she supposed, but by the time she arrived home at teatime the sand was deserted.
She walked in like a drowned rat, water dripping from her coat and off her nose, and it was like that—with small pools of water at her feet—that she met Rafe in Seacrest’s wood-panelled hall. He had just left the drawing room as she walked in through the front door and for a moment neither of them spoke.
Rafe recovered first. ‘Damp out, is it?’ he drawled with a magnificent lack of expression.
Marianne decided she couldn’t win this one except by playing along, even if the piercing blue eyes were telling her she looked like something the cat would drag in. ‘Just a trifle. Bracing, though.’ She smiled sweetly, wishing him anywhere but here. And he would have to look totally drop dead gorgeous, without a hair out of place. Of course. ‘I didn’t see your car,’ she added enquiringly.
‘Came by taxi. I’ve been in the States for a couple of weeks and only just got back, I’m picking up a hire car tomorrow. I called by on the off chance you’d be around to discuss a few things. About—’ he consulted the gold watch on one tanned wrist ‘—half an hour ago, and Crystal said you wouldn’t be long and to wait. I’ve been eating her homemade fruit cake,’ he added with schoolboy relish, ‘and getting to know her a bit better.’
How cosy. And how very kind of Crystal to keep him here so he could witness her return. Through gritted teeth, Marianne said, ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go and change before I join you.’
‘No problem. I’m just on my way to the cloakroom.’ As she made to pass him, he caught her arm. ‘I’ve always wondered what a sea nymph might look like,’ he said softly. ‘Now I think I’ve got a good idea.’
Utterly taken aback, Marianne could only gape at him before recovering her aplomb enough to smile lightly and say, ‘A sea nymph in a cagoule and wellington boots? I don’t think so. I’ll see you in a minute or two,’ before scampering off to her room.
Once there, she stripped off her clothes, finding she was soaked right through to her bra and pants. After slipping into jeans and a warm jumper, she towel-dried her hair and pulled it up into a ponytail. She stood surveying herself in the full-length mirror, frowning slightly. What was it about Rafe Steed that made her overwhelmingly aware of his masculinity? It wasn’t just his height and powerful build, although these were impressive, but there was a subtle kind of dark energy about him, a magnetism which was totally male and sensual. He was a disturbing man to be around and the more she got to know him the more disturbing he became. That last remark, for instance, about her looking like a sea nymph. A hundred men could have come out with something like that and she would have laughed in their faces, but not with Rafe. With Rafe she went weak at the knees.
Oh, for goodness’ sake! The frown turned into a glare. This was crazy! If she didn’t get a handle on this ridiculous feebleness it would become her Achilles heel, with the potential to make things more than a little awkward in the future. This venture was a business proposition, pure and simple. No time for girlish fancies. Too much was at stake.
By the time she entered the drawing room Marianne was composed and calm, outwardly at least. Crystal had lit a log fire—the damp sea mist could penetrate bricks and mortar on a day like this—and Rafe was sitting in a big easy armchair with an empty plate and mug at the side of him. He stood up at her entrance, smiling as he said, ‘Crystal’s in the kitchen making you a hot drink.’
Marianne nodded. Churlish of her, maybe, but he seemed to have taken over.
His smile vanishing and his voice flat, Rafe said quietly, ‘I can leave if this is an inconvenient time.’
She stared at him, disliking how easily he seemed to read her thoughts. In spite of his polite words, she felt he knew exactly what she was thinking. ‘Not at all.’ She could be polite, too. ‘I’m just a little tired, that’s all. It’s been a hectic few weeks.’
‘I wanted to discuss a couple of things and I thought it would be easier face to face, that’s all. But if you’re too tired…’
‘No, it’s all right.’ She made her way to the armchair opposite his and sat down.
‘I’ll get straight to the point.’ He looked at her, his blue eyes unreadable. ‘How do things sit with you financially? Oh, I know the situation regarding your parents’ estate—’ he flapped a dismissive hand ‘—but I mean now, over the next week or two until work progresses on Seacrest. Do you and Crystal have enough to live on?’
It was the last thing she had expected him to say. She blinked, taken aback.
Rafe almost smiled. Her face was like an open book. But he couldn’t blame her for viewing him as a cross between Attila the Hun and the Marquis de Sade. He watched as she gathered her thoughts, the firelight dancing over her creamy skin.
‘Thank you,’ she said a little warily, ‘but there’s no need to trouble yourself on our account. I have some savings and so has Crystal.’ A small smile touched her lips for a moment. ‘We won’t be begging on street corners for a crust of bread, not yet anyway.’
‘Once everything is signed and sealed, an allowance will be made for your and Crystal’s salaries. These will be paid directly into your accounts on the first day of each month. I trust this is acceptable? You can give Tom the relevant information when you meet him tomorrow—he’s already liaising with my solicitor.’
Marianne nodded. Ridiculous and terribly unbusinesslike, but she had paid no thought to a salary of any kind, certainly not for herself at any rate. She had thought being a partner in the enterprise would be reward enough. But of course she would have to have something to live on and her savings wouldn’t last for ever. ‘There’s…there’s a lot more to all this than first meets the eye, isn’t there?’
‘Not really. At least not when you’ve done this sort of thing as many times as I have. Tom will acquaint you with progress to date tomorrow, but there’s something else, something a little delicate.’ He paused and then stood up abruptly, walking over to the full-length windows and standing with his back towards the room. It was raining in earnest now and twilight had come early, the room full of shadows which the flames of the fire caused to flicker grotesquely on the light-coloured walls.
Rafe’s voice was low when he said, ‘My father moved into his cottage today, Marianne. As I expected, the journey has taken a lot out of him and he’s resting in bed. His housekeeper and her husband have come over with him—they’ve been with him for years, long before my mother died. They were going to stay indefinitely at one point but in the last couple of weeks they’ve discovered their only child, a daughter, is having a baby. Apparently, in the past, Jenny, the daughter, had been told she couldn’t have children so Jenny and her husband, along with Mary and Will, are thrilled. The complication is that, due to medical reasons, Jenny is going to have to be confined to bed throughout the pregnancy and obviously Mary wants to be there to take care of her.’
He turned and looked at her. ‘With anyone reasonable this would not be a problem but my father is not reasonable. He’s all for Mary and Will hotfooting it back to the States but refuses to concede that he needs someone living in permanently. He’s insisting a daily and a part-time gardener will be sufficient. They most d
efinitely will not.’
‘I see.’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘No, I don’t. What is it you’re saying, exactly?’
‘I need someone short-term to stand in for Mary—just until I can find a replacement—and I wondered if you would mind if I put it to Crystal? She’s experienced and capable but, more than that, my father knew her when they were young. He’s digging his heels in about having a stranger move in and he can be as stubborn as a mule when he wants to be.’
She rather thought it was a case of the pot calling the kettle black, but that wasn’t her chief concern. How would she manage without Crystal? Until this very moment she hadn’t realised how much the knowledge that Crystal would be at her side, supporting her, loving her, being there twenty-four hours a day had given her courage for the immediate future. It was necessary but she wasn’t going to like seeing Seacrest torn apart and changed. It was going to be an emotional time, coming so shortly after the loss of her parents. Clearing her throat, she said flatly, ‘Your father wouldn’t manage with a daily and help outside?’
Rafe shook his head, rotated his shoulders and walked back to the chair he had vacated. Sitting down, he leant forward, his blue eyes piercing in a face that suddenly looked weary. ‘He’d never forgive me for saying so, but he’s ridiculously cavalier with his medication and so on. I know he resents being ill. This is the first time in his life he’s ever had anything to do with doctors and hospitals and so on. He hates it. Hates the fact that some days he’s as weak as a kitten. Other days he’s more like himself and you wouldn’t know anything was wrong.’
‘You worry about him,’ she said softly.
Rafe nodded, although his face gave nothing away. Ruefully, he said, ‘He needs someone with him constantly to keep an eye on him, to make sure he eats properly, takes his pills, that kind of thing. Of course Crystal might not want to do it even if you agree.’
She wondered if he knew how effective it was—this big, rugged, hard man worrying about his father. It would melt the hardest heart. That aside, she had to admit that Andrew Steed probably needed Crystal far more than she did. ‘You can put it to Crystal with my blessing and if she agrees I’ll do what I can to support her as well as look after things here.’
He was very still for a moment and then sighed. ‘Thank you,’ he murmured, the powerful shoulders relaxing. ‘He drives me crazy and half the time seems hell-bent on ruining what little health he has left, but…’
‘He’s your father,’ Marianne put in quietly. ‘I understand.’
‘Yes, I think you probably do.’ As though he couldn’t help himself, his eyes dropped to her mouth, lingering there for a long moment.
Marianne sat still, her heart beginning to hammer in her ribcage. The atmosphere in the room had subtly changed, become heavy, languorous.
Rafe stood up and moved over to her, drawing her into his arms. ‘Thank you,’ he said again, his voice husky.
‘You’re welcome,’ she whispered.
This time when he kissed her his lips were warm and persuasive, moving with a leisurely self-assurance that made her quiver deep inside. He was holding her close but she made no effort to try to move away because she didn’t want to. She wanted him to go on kissing her. She had been waiting for this moment for the last three weeks, she realised with a little shock of surprise.
He raised his head for a moment, his hands moving to her ponytail. She felt his fingers loosen her hair so that it fell in a smooth, sleek curtain either side of her face.
‘Beautiful,’ he murmured thickly. As if drawn by an invisible silken cord, he lowered his mouth again and took her lips, her hair caught in his fingers.
Her hands slowly slid around his neck and he immediately deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue inside her mouth and exploring the inner sweetness. She didn’t resist as his hands tightened in her hair, tilting her head back as his lips staked their claim, even though a small rational part of her mind was telling her this was madness. And it was madness, a sensual, magical madness against which she had no defence, never having felt like this before. Rafe was invoking sensations no other man had called forth and it was intoxicating. The warmth of his body surrounding her, the incredible things his mouth was doing to her—she didn’t want it to stop.
‘Marianne.’ His voice was almost agonised against her mouth, his hunger naked, and it raced through her bloodstream, igniting nerve-endings and causing her to press closer into the hard male body.
The crackle and spit of a log as it fell deeper into the flames brought them apart, both thinking for a second that the door had opened and Crystal had entered the room. For a moment they stood still, bathed in the afterglow of sensation and sexual excitement, the only sound the rattle and hiss of the burning wood. Shadows danced across Rafe’s taut face and she saw he was fighting for control. She wanted to reach out and touch him but she didn’t. Something warned her not to.
‘This is—’ He stopped abruptly, shaking his head.
She waited, staring into the rugged handsome face without speaking. He didn’t like the fact that he wanted her, she thought with a strange lurch inside her chest. Even more, perhaps, than she didn’t like the fact she wanted him. But she did. Without rhyme or reason, against everything that was sensible and logical, she wanted Rafe to make love to her. She felt she was drowning in the sensations he’d aroused.
She watched as his inner torment turned the startlingly blue eyes to a deep violet. She could see sanity rearing its head as she watched him, the intimacy, which had been so real and soft seconds before, evaporating as he took charge of what he was feeling. It was a lesson in how self-disciplined he was, will-power and rigid strength of mind evident as his harsh breathing was subdued and his face became blank.
Before he could speak, she said, ‘Don’t say you’re sorry or anything of that nature, Rafe, because we both know it was me as much as you.’
For a moment the mask slipped and his eyes widened.
‘Let’s just put this down as one of those things. It’s clear we strike sparks off each other—sexually, that is. I suppose, with the tens of millions of people in the world, we’re bound to come across someone at some time who can press all the right buttons.’ She was talking nonsense but it was providing her with some degree of protection against the hot humiliation which had filled her as she’d watched him reject her. ‘We know now, which will prevent us making the same mistake again.’
A corner of his mouth twisted in a wry smile which wasn’t a smile at all. ‘I’m a mistake?’
‘Only as far as I’m concerned, and it works both ways,’ she said steadily. She wasn’t sure where the strength was coming from to talk like this but she blessed it.
Rafe’s eyes narrowed. ‘Meaning?’
‘We’re very different people and we want different things out of life. It would be a huge mistake to complicate what is essentially a business arrangement by getting involved.’
‘Physically, you mean.’
She had meant romantically but if this wasn’t confirmation that she was on a different planet from Rafe, nothing was. Or perhaps it was just the age-old complication of lust and…Her mind balked at the word love and substituted intimacy. By the nature of the act itself, men took and women received. The act of penetration was not the same emotionally for the two sexes, not in her book, at least. Drawing on her own considerable will-power, she said steadily, ‘Exactly.’
A muscle knotted in Rafe’s cheek. ‘So you’re saying this attraction is just a biological accident of some kind?’
‘Yes, I am.’ She stared at him. His eyes had gone as flat as his voice.
‘Isn’t that a little…cold-blooded?’ he accused, his eyebrows raised.
‘I don’t think so,’ she lied evenly. ‘It’s a well-known fact that animals respond to certain chemicals in their mates.’
‘Excuse me, but I think I am a little more discerning than your average orangutan.’
Marianne smiled; she couldn’t help it. He sounded so outraged.
‘I’m sure you are.’
She watched him take a deep breath. ‘You really are a very unusual woman, Marianne Carr.’
No, just one struggling to preserve the shreds of her dignity, she thought miserably. ‘Thank you.’ She forced a smile. ‘I think.’
‘And your parents?’ he said softly. ‘Did they have nothing more than this chemical response between them?’
‘Of course not,’ she said indignantly. ‘They had masses in common, too, and they loved each other.’
‘Ah, love.’ He eyed her indolently, very much master of himself again. ‘A complicated, elusive phenomenon and not one I would care to engage in.’
She was done pretending. ‘You didn’t love your wife when you married her?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘My,’ he drawled, ‘what little bird has been whispering in your ear?’
‘It’s not a secret, is it?’ She didn’t lower her eyes from his in spite of the look on his face. ‘You were married, you’re now divorced. Hardly unusual in this age in which we live.’
‘Possibly not, but when I married my wife I expected it to be for life. I had no wish then to add to the somewhat sad statistics of the twenty-first century and will take care not to in the future.’
That was all she was going to get; she could read it in the cold blue gaze. And when Crystal chose that moment to come bustling into the room, Marianne had never been so glad to see someone in the whole of her life.
CHAPTER SEVEN
RAFE left the house twenty minutes later. Crystal had agreed she would consider the possibility of becoming temporary live-in housekeeper for a while for his father, but stressed this would depend on both Andrew’s wishes in the matter and how she felt she would fit into the household when she met him again. She had also suggested the issue should be raised naturally in conversation rather than Rafe mentioning it beforehand. It was the best he was going to get and a great deal more than he had expected.