by Penny Jordan
It was the same frisson she had experienced in those early heady days when she was first falling in love with Julian. She shuddered, inwardly terrified by what she was admitting. It had been desire for Julian that had caused that sensation, but it was fear and dislike of Neil that was bringing it back. It had to be. It was impossible for her to desire any man, but most especially this one, who had made it plain he would go to any lengths in order to obtain her land. Though she could understand why.
As long as somebody else owned it, he would be vulnerable to the possibility that they might sell it to a speculator, much like the builder who had approached her. Someone who would use her few acres to build an estate of houses which would encroach almost half-way down the drive which led to Parnham Court, which would ruin the outlook from those magnificent second-floor windows, which would destroy the house’s exclusivity, and bring down its commercial value considerably. Oh, yes, she could understand why he wanted her land, but she still wasn’t going to sell it to him; to him or to anyone else. It meant far too much to her.
She had been a fool to accept this invitation, to lay herself open to the tactics he would obviously try to use against her. Once he knew she was vulnerable to him… She shut off the thoughts, relieved to discover the car had come to a halt, and that they were parked outside the main entrance to the house.
As he had done before, Neil came round to open her car door for her, but this time she was ready for him and wrenched the handle open before he could touch it, almost stumbling in her haste to get out of the car. The look he gave her made her face burn, but she told herself stubbornly that she had every right to protect herself from him, that he was only trying to charm and deceive her.
He escorted her into the house which had once been so familiar to her. Inside, the large hallway very little had changed. She had been lucky enough to find a buyer who had wanted to purchase most of the furnishings in addition to the building and land itself, and as she walked into the hall she recognised that some of them at least were still here.
The graceful staircase curled upwards to the second and third storeys in a delicate spiral. Three flights above them the painted dome of the ceiling with its allegorical Biblical fresco was still as awesomely eye-catching as it had always been. The large oval hallway, with its black and white lozenge-tiled floor, felt chilly after the warmth of the car. Four pairs of huge mahogany doors led off it, and between them, on either side of the wall, matching gilt rococo mirrors and tables. A huge crystal chandelier illuminated this hallway, and Neil reached out and switched it on, brilliant prisms of light glittering sharply, so much so that it almost hurt Rue’s eyes.
‘This way,’ Neil told her, touching her shoulder and making her jump as he indicated the first pair of double doors.
Rue hesitated a little, since she knew that they led not into the dining-room but into the library, and from there into the small private sitting-room which she and her father had almost always used. Off the sitting-room was the conservatory, and she discovered, as Neil led her into it, that it was here that they were going to eat.
‘The dining-room, beautiful though it is, is hardly conducive to a small, intimate dinner,’ he told her, correctly interpreting her surprise.
He offered her a drink, and when she shook her head in refusal he explained that, while everything was ready, it would take him a few minutes to serve the meal. Rue didn’t really care how long it would take him. With every second that passed she was regretting more and more her folly in ever agreeing to come here. The very last thing she wanted was to sit down and eat with this man, and yet when Neil returned, pushing a heated trolley in front of him, the rich, tempting aroma of the food reminded her how long it had been since she had last eaten.
Meals during the summer were snatched affairs at the best of times, and today, for one reason or another, she had managed to miss out on both lunch and the snack she normally ate around five o’clock.
‘After we’ve eaten I’ll show you the suite of rooms I’m thinking of furnishing for my mother,’ Neil told her as he served their main course.
Their starter had been a delicious concoction of fresh salmon delicately flavoured with herbs, which Rue had found mouthwateringly good. She had complimented him stiffly on it and had burned with inner anger as she sensed his amusement.
She hated the thought that he might be laughing at her, even while she acknowledged that his amusement was probably richly deserved. They had almost finished their main course when he suddenly asked her out of the blue, ‘Tell me a bit more about this husband of yours. Why did you marry him in the first place?’
Rue had just taken a mouthful of wine and she almost choked on it, unable to believe what she was hearing.
‘What exactly is it you want to know?’ she asked him tightly, letting him see her anger. ‘Why he wanted to marry me? Surely that’s self-evident: I was very rich and very stupid.’
‘You were also very young and criminally unprotected,’ Neil cut in drily, adding, ‘Don’t take all the blame for what happened on your shoulders, Rue.’
She was astounded by his arrogance, and the anger and fear she had suppressed so successfully during their meal suddenly resurfaced. She stood up furiously, pushing her plate away from her.
‘You’re wasting your time, Neil,’ she told him boldly. ‘I know exactly why you’ve brought me here on this pretext of wanting my advice.’
He had stood up too, moving away from the table at the same moment as she did, and effectively blocking her exit. The conservatory wasn’t a very large room and the plants that crowded it made it seem even smaller, claustrophobically so, or so it seemed to Rue, her skin suddenly too tight and hot. Panic started to course through her. As he came towards her, she had heard Neil saying grittingly, ‘Do you, now? Well, then, it won’t surprise you if I do this, will it?’ And before she could evade him he had taken hold of her and lowered his mouth to hers, silencing her furious words of protest, smothering them beneath the fierce pressure of his lips.
It was a hard, angry kiss that left her in no doubt as to his contempt and dislike of her. As she fought to break free of him its pressure deepened and, unbelievably, just as panic started to claw at her, the pressure softened and became coaxing rather than punitive, his hands caressing on her skin rather than imprisoning.
Too bemused to break free, Rue stood completely immobile as Neil made a soft sound against her mouth, gathering her even closer. Then, as his lips feathered softly against her own, her sanity abruptly reasserted itself and she pulled away from him, furious with him and furious with herself.
‘I hope you don’t expect me to apologise for that,’ Neil told her as he let her go.
‘How dare you?’ Rue demanded rawly, ignoring his comment. ‘How dare you stand there and say that to me…?’ Unexpectedly, tears welled in her eyes, and she turned away from him, shaking from head to foot. ‘What have I said or done that made you think I would welcome an…an attack like that?’
‘An attack? It wasn’t like that… I was angry, yes…’
‘Angry…’ Rue whirled round and faced him, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. ‘And that anger gave you the right to—force yourself on me, did it? To… Oh, you men are all the same. You think you have the God-given right to punish us…to discipline us by forcing yourselves on us. You brought me here tonight so that you could persuade me to sell you my land, and then, when you realised it wasn’t going to work, you thought you’d use a different means of persuasion. My husband was just like you,’ she flung bitterly at him. ‘He punished me by…’ She broke off suddenly, to stare at him as she caught the expression of angry disgust darkening his eyes.
‘I don’t believe I’m hearing any of this,’ he told her tersely. ‘I kissed you for one reason only, Rue, and that had nothing to do with any pre-planned Machiavellian plot to get you to part with your land. The reason I kissed you was simply because I’ve been wanting to do so ever since I set eyes on you. All right, so it shouldn’t h
ave happened the way it did, and for that I do apologise…but to accuse me of…’ He looked at her and asked quietly, ‘What were you accusing me of, Rue? I think I know, but I’m not sure I can believe what I’m hearing. I think I can understand how you feel about your husband—he obviously gave you a bad time both in bed and out of it—but there must have been other men since who’ve shown you that all men aren’t the same…’ He caught his breath, his eyes narrowing, a dark flush of colour burning shockingly along his cheekbones as he realised the truth. ‘There haven’t been any other men, have there?’ he demanded flatly and very quietly.
If he had made the slightest move towards her, Rue knew she would have turned and fled, but because he stayed where he was, because her emotions were in such a disorientated and thoroughly confused state already, she simply stood and stared at him, unable to deny his words with what they both knew would be a lie.
‘What did he do to you, Rue?’ he asked softly. ‘What in hell did he do to make you feel that every man who touches you wants to hurt you? That is how you feel, isn’t it?’ he persisted.
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Rue told him lightly, dragging air into her tormented lungs, her body so weak with shock and anxiety that she could barely stand. ‘I want to go home. Now. I must go home…’ Suddenly she was gabbling meaningless phrases and words, or so it sounded to her own ears, her voice rising high with panic and pain. She half stumbled and half ran towards the door, but Neil got there before her.
‘Let me go,’ she demanded frantically, only to realise that he wasn’t touching her at all, her face burning as she saw the pity and the sympathy in his eyes. But they weren’t real, she told herself; they were just a trap…just a ruse…just part of his plan to get her to sell her land to him.
‘I’m not letting you go like this. All right,’ he told her, ‘I’ll take you home if that’s what you want…but I’m not letting you walk out of here alone in this state. In fact, I’m not sure I ought to let you go at all,’ he added under his breath.
‘You can’t stop me,’ Rue protested feebly, struggling to regain her self-control, and as though he sensed her panic he stayed scrupulously away from her, watching her with eyes that registered every tiny nuance of emotion that crossed her face.
As he looked at her, he was torn between pity and anger. He had sensed her hostility right from the first moment he saw her, but that had not stopped him feeling desire for her.
As he escorted her out to his car she threw at him, ‘It doesn’t matter what you do or say—I’ll never sell my land to you.’
‘Never is one hell of a long time,’ he reminded her as he started the engine and switched on the lights. ‘And when I want something, I don’t give up until I’ve got it.’
CHAPTER FOUR
SEVERAL times during the night Rue woke up disturbed by uneasy dreams which left her feeling anxious and on edge and somehow very alone, despite the comforting noises Horatio made in his sleep. Eventually, at half-past three, knowing she wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep, she got up and went downstairs. Hands clasped around a comforting mug of coffee, she stared out of the window into the greyness of the pre-dawn sky.
She wasn’t used to feeling ill at ease with herself this way. Although she had never forgotten the trauma of her short marriage, she had forced herself to put it behind her. The life she had built for herself here in Vine Cottage was secure and comfortable. Other people might consider her life lonely and indeed in some ways unnatural for a young woman of her age, but to Rue that loneliness represented safety.
If there was no one to share her life with her, then there was no one to hurt her, and she had been quite content for it to be that way. Her friends did occasionally try their hand at matchmaking, but she always left the men concerned in no doubt at all as to her feelings, so that very few of them were brave enough to risk getting a second rebuff. And now, shockingly, within a very short space of time Neil Saxton had invaded her life, threatening her security in a way that made her feel bitterly resentful.
Last night, when he had kissed her… She shivered and put down her half-empty cup of coffee. She didn’t want to think about that kiss…about the sensation that had touched her so very briefly and so very unforgettably, before she had torn herself out of his arms.
Irritated with herself for her weakness, she reached out and switched on the radio, tuning in to the farmers’ weather forecast. Worry darkened her eyes as she listened to the bulletin. It was warning that the spell of good weather was almost at an end, and that thunderstorms were on their way.
Her main crop of summer-flowering blossoms needed another two days of sunshine at least before they would be at their peak. If she picked them before then, the blooms would not be open to their fullest extent, but if she left them and the thunderstorms arrived early… Gnawing on her bottom lip, she refilled her mug, roaming restlessly round the kitchen and then going to stand in front of the window.
It was getting properly light now. The herbs she grew in the shelter of the walled garden were always safe from high winds and need not cause her too much concern, but her fields lay beyond the protection of the walls and were too exposed.
The majority of the plants she grew for drying were summer-flowering. It was then that the rich colours that were so popular with her clients were at their best. If she lost that crop… She shivered, her shoulders sagging slightly.
It was at times like this that she was truly conscious of being alone, of wanting… What? she derided herself angrily. A shoulder to lean on? Immediately a mental image of Neil Saxton flashed across her mind. Angrily she dismissed it, furious with the way her body was playing tricks with her. The man was her enemy. He wanted her land, and if she was stupid enough to fall for his curious charm and flattery then she fully deserved the fate that would undoubtedly be hers.
Hadn’t she learnt anything from her marriage to Julian? Hadn’t she sworn after he had left her that she would never, ever again allow any man to gain an ascendency over her through her emotions? And yet here she was, in a moment of tiredness and weakness, allowing herself to give in to the basic feminine urge to seek protection from life’s harshness—and why? Wasn’t it true that women were and had to be far more emotionally strong than men, that women all over the world had to cope with far worse than she was having to endure? Many, many millions of them had not only to earn their own living, but to bring up children as well, often without the support of the man who had fathered them.
Hadn’t she learnt yet that men were not to be trusted, that it was far, far better to remain independent? The weather bulletin finished and music echoed from the radio. Impatiently she reached out and switched it off.
Horatio came padding into the kitchen and looked enquiringly and a little disapprovingly at her, as though to ask what on earth she was doing out of bed at such an early hour. It was too late to go back to sleep—another hour and it would be fully light. She was impatient suddenly to be out in the fields, checking on the progress of her flowers, even as she acknowledged that no amount of willing them to be ready was going to have the slightest effect upon them.
Upstairs she showered and dressed, pulling on a pair of clean but very old jeans and a thin T-shirt. It had faded and shrunk in the wash, and clung a little too closely to the curve of her breasts for her liking. She shrugged the thought aside as she pulled on a sweatshirt for extra warmth. After all, no one was likely to see her in it.
As soon as it was properly light, she went into the field. It was too early as yet to check on the progress of her flowers. They needed the sun to warm them before she would be able to do that. Restless and yet tired at the same time, she went into the barn and started preparing the blossoms she had picked the previous day for drying. As always, once she started work she became totally absorbed in what she was doing, so much so that Horatio’s soft whine of pleasure and recognition didn’t break through her fierce concentration until it was too late.
A shadow fell across the
doorway, momentarily blocking out the early sun. She lifted her head, tension quivering sharply in her stomach as she recognised her visitor.
‘What do you want?’ she demanded shortly, her whole body stiff with rejection and fear.
She saw his eyebrows lift, hating the amusement that crinkled his eyes as he bent down to fuss Horatio. To the dog he said thoughtfully, ‘It seems that your mistress is not in a very good mood this morning. Now, I wonder why.’
The look he gave her made her face burn. Mentally seething, Rue turned her face away from him. How very like a man to assume that just because she had not welcomed him with open arms last night she must now be suffering from regrets and sexual frustration.
‘Why have you come here?’ she demanded fiercely. ‘If it’s about the land, I’ve already told you…’
‘It isn’t about the land,’ he interrupted her calmly. ‘I wanted to talk to you about last night.’
Her eyes betrayed her instantly, darkening with apprehension and fear. He reached out a hand to touch her and then, as though he had thought better of it, let it drop to his side.
‘There is nothing to talk about,’ she told him stiffly. If only he would go away, but he was far too big, far too male for her to be able to force him to do so. Men liked using their physical superiority to dominate women, she thought bitterly. She had learned that from Julian.
‘You’re trespassing,’ she added shortly, and out of the corner of her eyes she saw his mouth harden a little.
‘Why is it that you’re so antagonistic towards me?’ he asked her quietly.
His arrogance and effrontery almost took her breath away. She turned on him, putting down the flowers she had been holding, her hands balled into small fists at her side as she told him fiercely, ‘I should have thought you would have the intelligence to know the answer to that! You come here pestering me to sell you my land, even when I’ve already told you I have no intention of doing so; you invite me to your house under false pretenses and then, when everything else has failed, you try to provoke me into giving you what you want by using the kind of caveman tactics that…’