Ruthless Awakening

by Sara Craven

  ‘And of course we can’t have that.’ Anger and bitterness were at war inside her, making her reckless. ‘But, as it happens, things would never have gone that far.’

  ‘You imagine you were the one in control of the situation?’ he asked derisively. ‘Not from where I was sitting, sweetheart. And a last-minute change of heart doesn’t always work with someone half-cut and looking for mischief. If I hadn’t followed you there could have been trouble.’

  She stiffened. ‘How good of you to take such an interest in an employee’s private affairs,’ she said. ‘But also quite unnecessary. I can take care of myself.’

  He said slowly, ‘Can you indeed?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Of course.’ And tried not to think of Simon’s fingers on her flesh. The pressure of his mouth.

  Diaz swung her round, pushing her against the outside wall of the stable. He put one hand on the brickwork beside her and leaned towards her, his other hand cupping her chin, his thumb rhythmically stroking the delicate line of her jaw.

  He said softly, ‘Are you quite sure of that?’

  She looked up into his eyes. They were pale as the moonlight itself, the irises very dark. They held an expression she had never encountered before—with anyone. Certainly not with Simon a few minutes ago, she thought, and realised she was frightened and excited at the same time.

  He added, ‘Prove it.’ Then bent his head and put his mouth slowly and carefully on hers, caressing her lips lightly and sensuously.

  It was not the frank lust she’d experienced just now. Nor was it passion. Or not yet, anyway. Even in her comparative innocence Rhianna recognised that.

  He was simply asking a question. Testing her quite gently, but also inexorably. This time demanding an answer.

  She’d been kissed before tonight, of course. Not often, it was true, and certainly not well. The school had thrown a leavers’ party with a disco, and several of the lads had tried their luck during the slow dances. She’d accepted those minor advances with good-humoured resignation, if not pleasure. The boys hadn’t been strangers, after all, and she hadn’t wanted to make a fuss or hurt anyone’s feelings. But she’d moved away as soon as the dance was over, making it tacitly plain there’d be no repetition.

  But this—this—was wholly different. As his kiss deepened, coaxing her lips to part for him, his hand was tracing the curve of her slender throat, lingering on the leap and flutter of her pulse, then moving down to her loosened dress to stroke the first delicate swell of her breast and linger there.

  Her reaction was instant, shocking her with its intensity. Making her aware of explicit sensations—needs—never before imagined, let alone experienced. Enticing her with the scent—the taste of him.

  She wanted, she thought as her brain reeled, to answer all his questions. To twine her arms round his neck and feel the warmth, the male hardness of him against her. To return the pressure of his lips and more. To feel his touch on her naked skin and show him she was ready to be a woman. His woman, if he so desired.

  But it seemed he did not.

  Instead he was lifting his head and stepping back, his expression guarded as he studied her.

  He said quietly, ‘I think you seriously over-estimate your resistance levels, Rhianna. Just be glad I don’t take sweets from babies, or you’d be spending the night in my bed, not your own. Which is a seriously bad idea for a great many reasons.’ He added almost harshly, ‘Now, run along, and don’t go looking for trouble with men. Because you’ll surely find it.’

  He turned and walked away, and she stayed where she was, leaning against the wall, her legs shaking too much to move.

  And at that moment a light came on, illuminating the entire yard—including the tall figure of Diaz Penvarnon crossing to the rear entrance of the house.

  Rhianna turned her head, startled, and saw the dark shape of her aunt standing at the window of the flat, looking down. She couldn’t see her face, but instinct warned she’d gone from one kind of trouble straight to another.

  Reluctantly she moved, walking slowly round the yard to the flat door and going in.

  Kezia Trewint was waiting for her in the living room, her face set, her deep-set eyes burning with anger and scorn as she looked at the girl hesitating in the doorway.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘You’ve been with him. Another Carlow woman chasing after a Penvarnon man. Just as I knew you’d be all those years ago.’

  Rhianna gasped. ‘What—what do you mean?’

  ‘I mean you—up against the stable wall with Mr Diaz. A slut—a dirty little tart—just like your mother before you.’ She drew a hoarse breath. ‘Didn’t she bring enough shame on our family? And him of all men?’

  ‘No,’ Rhianna managed. ‘It—it wasn’t like that…’

  Oh, God, she thought. This was an entirely different level of misunderstanding. This was terrible.

  ‘You think you weren’t seen sneaking off, and him following?’ Miss Trewint demanded derisively. ‘That Mrs Seymour didn’t go after him, and me with her? That we didn’t see you with our own eyes? It’s what the family have been expecting ever since you came here. Grace Carlow’s daughter, and the living image of her. Made him wonder, I dare say, what Ben Penvarnon once had, and fancy a taste of the same.’

  Her eyes rested on Rhianna’s still unfastened buttons. Her sudden laugh was vicious, grating. ‘But that’s where it’ll end. I promise you that. Because he’s not like his father. Not that one. He won’t be setting you up in some London flat and paying the bills in return for his pleasures. Now he’s used you, he’ll forget you. He can’t do otherwise. Because she might find out, and he can’t risk that.’

  Rhianna stared at her. She felt very cold. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘What are you talking about. Who is she? And what are you saying about my mother?’

  ‘She was Ben Penvarnon’s mistress, bought and kept,’ Miss Trewint flung at her. ‘As everyone knows. And I was the one, God forgive me, who brought her into this house and put temptation in his way, flaunting herself in front of him.

  “‘Yes, Mr Penvarnon,”’ she mimicked. ‘“No, Mr Penvarnon.” “I think Mrs Esther’s a little better today, Mr Penvarnon.”’ She drew a shuddering breath. ‘Playing sweetness and concern for the sick woman she was supposed to be tending, and all the time she was running off to meet with her wedded husband in that hut on the beach or up on the moors. And you’re proving yourself no better with his son.’

  ‘That’s a lie. And I don’t believe what you’re saying about my mother either.’ Rhianna’s chest was so tight it was difficult to breathe. ‘She was in love with Daddy. You only had to see them together to know that.’

  ‘What did she ever know about love?’ Her aunt glared at her. ‘All she knew was having her fun and wheedling all she could out of another woman’s husband. And after he was dead, and there were no more pickings to be had, she had to do something. Find some other fool to keep her.’

  Her mouth thinned. ‘And you’ll have to do the same, my lady. Don’t think you’re staying here after tonight’s goings-on. Even if I was prepared to keep you, Mrs Seymour won’t have it. Reckons you’re an insult to her sister, and that Mr Diaz must have run mad to look twice at you with what he knows.’

  ‘But nothing happened,’ Rhianna protested desperately. ‘Or not like you think, anyway,’ she added. But it could have done, said a sly voice in her head. He was the one who put a stop to it, not you, so no credit to you. And you can’t even claim it was his fault—not this time.

  But I can’t think about that, she told herself, wincing inwardly. I’ve got to forget those dark, urgent moments in his arms when nothing mattered but his mouth on mine and the touch of his hand on my skin.

  ‘A seriously bad idea for a great many reasons.’ That was what he’d said, and now she knew what he’d meant. Why he’d let her go. And why he’d do nothing to prevent her being sent away permanently. Not this time.

  ‘Nor is it going to happen.’ Miss Trewint�
��s voice reached her grimly. ‘So you can start packing your bags. I knew you were going to be a bad lot from the first, hanging round Mr Diaz whenever he came here. ‘And there you were tonight, supposed to be working, but throwing yourself at any man who’d look at you.’ She snorted. ‘I should have turned you out two years ago, when you were sixteen, but for that headmistress of yours insisting you should finish your education—get more qualifications.’ She shook her head. ‘I was a fool to listen. But you’ll make no more mischief here. You’re going tomorrow, and good riddance too.’

  But where am I to go? Rhianna wanted to ask. What can I do? I haven’t earned enough to save anything, so what am I going to live on while I find work—somewhere to live? And although I never wanted to come here, and the last six years of my life haven’t been that happy, at the same time they’ve been centred exclusively on this house. I’ve grown accustomed to it. I don’t know anywhere else.

  But she said none of those things aloud. She wouldn’t argue, she thought. Nor would she beg.

  I can take care of myself. Her own words, she thought. And if they’d been an empty boast a little while ago, she would have to live up to them now.

  She was putting the last of her things in her only suitcase the next morning when Carrie put a cautious head round her bedroom door.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘Your aunt’s supervising the cleaning-up operation, stalking round like Medusa on a bad day.’ She saw the open case and her eyes widened in distress. ‘Oh, God, it’s true. You’re really leaving. I heard Mum and Dad rowing in the study when I came down, and apparently there was another huge row earlier, between Diaz and my mother, and he slammed out of the house and drove off somewhere. I thought he might simply be peeved about the state of the house,’ she added glumly. ‘Wine and food spilled all over the place, half the crockery and stuff abandoned on the lawn, and Simon, among others, getting totally wasted with his ghastly friend Jimmy, who was sick everywhere.’ She groaned. ‘Thank God I’ll only be eighteen once. I couldn’t go through all that again.’

  She paused. ‘But Mum was saying you had to go, and Dad was trying to reason with her, so what’s happened?’

  Rhianna bit her lip. ‘Your cousin Diaz kissed me goodnight.’ She tried to sound nonchalant. ‘Your mother and my aunt both saw it, and as a consequence all hell has broken loose.’

  Carrie gaped at her. ‘But it wouldn’t have meant anything,’ she protested. ‘Not from Diaz. He probably realised you were rightly miffed about the waitressing business and was just being kind again.’ She sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Face it, love,’ she said gently. ‘You’re far too young for him. He dates the kind of women who go to first nights at the opera and have their photographs taken in the Royal Enclosure at Ascot. Mum knows that perfectly well.’

  ‘Yes,’ Rhianna said, trying to ignore the sudden bleak feeling in the pit of her stomach. ‘But she also knows that my mother had a serious affair with your uncle Ben, and, however unlikely it may be, she doesn’t want history to repeat itself.’

  If she hadn’t been so het-up she might have found the expression of blank shock on Carrie’s face almost funny.

  ‘I was going to say you must be joking,’ she said at last. ‘But clearly you’re not. When did you find out about this?’

  ‘Just before my sentence of banishment was pronounced last night.’ Rhianna tried to speak lightly. ‘In a way, it was a relief to know there is a reason for my having been the resident leper all these years. But it wasn’t the most welcome news I’ve ever had either.’ She looked at Carrie. ‘You never knew—never guessed?’

  The other shook her head. ‘Never—cross my heart. But a lot of stuff finally makes sense,’ she added soberly. ‘Like being told I was too young to understand when I used to ask why Aunt Esther never came back here, even to visit.’

  Her tone became brisker. ‘But this isn’t your fault, love. And Uncle Ben must have died at least four years before you were born, so there can’t possibly be any connection there.’

  She paused. ‘Mind you, I remember Mrs Welling saying once that he’d always been a devil for the women—before and after he married Aunt Esther. So perhaps your mother wasn’t really to blame either.’ She pulled a face. ‘Maybe it was one of those squire and village maiden things.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Rhianna grimaced too. ‘Apparently your aunt was ill and my mother was nursing her when it started. Which somehow makes it even worse—if it’s true, of course.’ She sighed. ‘I can’t believe anyone as warm and kind as my mother would have taken advantage of a sick woman by stealing her husband.’

  She tucked her small make-up purse down the side of the case. ‘What was wrong with Esther Penvarnon. Do you know?’

  ‘Not really,’ Carrie said, frowning. ‘According to my mother she had a bad time when Diaz was born, and was never well afterwards. It might have been one of those virus things, like ME, because according to the Welling information service Aunt Esther spent a lot of time in a wheelchair.’

  She frowned. ‘Although I have to say Mrs W also claimed she could walk perfectly well if she wanted. She reckoned, and I quote, that my aunt should have “got up and got on with being Mr Penvarnon’s missus,” thus saving a heap of trouble all round.’

  She paused. ‘Especially for you. Talk about the sins of the mothers…’ Her face acquired the stubborn look that Rhianna remembered from the first days of their friendship. ‘However, you can’t simply be thrown out on to the streets with nowhere to go.’

  ‘But that isn’t the case any longer. I do have a place to stay—back in London.’ Rhianna forced a smile. ‘Remember the Jessops, who looked after me after my mother died? Well, we’ve always stayed in touch, and over the years they’ve kept asking me to visit them—but I never could because Aunt Kezia said the fare was too expensive. Well, I phoned them this morning, and as soon as I tell them what train I’m catching they’re going to meet me at Paddington. I can live with them again until I’ve found a job and got settled.’

  ‘Well, thank God for that at least,’ Carrie said roundly. ‘But you’ve still been treated very badly by our family—Diaz included. If he wanted to kiss someone, why didn’t he pick Janie Trevellin? After all, they were seeing each other when he was over last year, and Mother thought at one point they might even get engaged.’

  She shrugged. ‘Some hopes. One day he threw his stuff in the car, as usual, and went.’ She gave a reluctant grin. ‘According to Welling wisdom, Penvarnon men have always been restless. Never in one place, wanting to be somewhere else. “Hard to tie down, and impossible to keep tied after”.’

  Rhianna made herself speak evenly. ‘Then maybe Janie Trevellin had a lucky escape.’

  ‘I bet she doesn’t think so.’ Carrie watched Rhianna fasten her case. ‘Look, are you quite sure about this? Perhaps things were said in the heat of the moment last night, and everyone will have calmed down by now?’

  ‘Not my aunt,’ Rhianna said briefly. ‘Besides, I never planned to stay here for ever, so maybe being pushed into action now is actually a blessing in disguise.’

  ‘Like the pigs currently flying over the roof,’ Carrie retorted. ‘You’ve got my mobile number haven’t you. Let me know you’re safe and sound, and keep in touch with all your new contact details. Oxford’s much nearer London, so, fingers crossed, we can go on seeing each other quite easily.’

  Rhianna took a deep breath. ‘I’m sure you won’t just be seeing me.’

  ‘Well, no.’ She flushed a little, her smile tender. ‘Simon came over a little while ago, to grovel about Jimmy and a lot of other things besides. He said going to university, getting away from the family and finding his freedom, knocked him sideways for a while, but he’s back on track now. And he wants to see me again—seriously this time.’

  ‘Then last night clearly wasn’t all bad.’ Smiling was an effort, but Rhianna managed it. ‘If he’s truly the one, Carrie, go for it.’ But, please God, don’t let it be true. Let her find som
eone else.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Carrie assured her. ‘I shall.’ She paused again. ‘How are you getting to the station? You can’t possibly walk.’

  ‘No choice. I certainly can’t afford a taxi.’

  ‘I shall take you,’ Carrie said firmly. ‘In Mother’s car. And I shall ask her for the wages you’re owed for last night, too.’

  Rhianna stared into her shoulder bag on the pretext of checking its contents, aware that her face had reddened.

  ‘Please don’t,’ she said constrictedly. ‘I think that’s best forgotten. Besides, I don’t want anything from her. From anyone.’

  But later, at the station, Carrie produced a roll of notes and handed them to her. ‘For you,’ she said. ‘From my father, wishing you all the best.’

  Rhianna stared at it in disbelief. ‘But it’s five hundred pounds,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t possibly take it.’

  ‘He says you have to.’ Carrie looked awkward. ‘It seems Uncle Ben left your mother some money in his will, but she refused to accept it. By comparison, this is a pittance, but Dad says it will make him feel much better, knowing that you’re not penniless.’

  ‘How lovely of him.’ Rhianna felt perilously close to tears.

  Francis Seymour was such a contrast, she thought, to her aunt, who’d said curtly, ‘So you’re off, then? No doubt you’ll fall on your feet. Your sort always does.’

  And Rhianna’s brief but carefully prepared speech of thanks for the home she’d been given for the past six years had died in her throat.

  And that, she thought now, was the last time I saw her.

  The last time I believed I would see any of them.

  And, oh, God, it would have been so much better that way.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HER face was wet again now, Rhianna realised, raising her head at last.

  Stress, she told herself. A natural reaction to finding herself in this totally unnatural situation. Certainly not an appropriate time to start remembering the unhappiness of the past.