Hunter's Moon & Bedded for Revenge

by Carole Mortimer

‘Mother, she isn’t a child any more,’ she cut in impatiently. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you stopped protecting her from the truth as if she were one? She’s twenty-three years of age, not—’

  ‘It has nothing to do with protecting Joy,’ her mother told her fiercely, blue eyes flashing familiarly. ‘Joy is a chatter-box; she would tell Colin, at least, all about this. I just happen to think the fewer people that know about this, the better chance we have of it not becoming public—’ She looked across the room as the door opened and her housekeeper entered the room, quickly followed by her visitor. ‘Jonas…!’ she gasped, standing up slowly, fear in her face now as she stared at him striding forcefully into the room.

  Cassandra stared at him too, although she wasn’t altogether sure how she felt about his unexpected appearance here. She had known he would come back; she just hadn’t expected it to be this soon! But what on earth was he doing here, of all places?’

  ‘When I went back to the house Jean told me you were here,’ he answered her unasked question with his usual economy of words.

  But why had he gone back to the house at all? she frowned; he hadn’t given the impression, when he’d marched out earlier, that he intended returning that quickly! But as usual she could read nothing from his enigmatic expression, knowing she would just have to wait until he felt ready to tell her. If he did. As she knew only too well, Jonas was a law unto himself.

  ‘Thank you, Jenkins,’ Marguerite dismissed the butler distractedly while still looking at Jonas. ‘That will be all this evening—unless you would like a coffee or something, Jonas…?’ she added as a flustered afterthought, her hands tightly clenched together in front of her.

  His mouth twisted wryly. ‘I can help myself to the “or something”,’ he said drily with a pointed look at the decanter of brandy that stood on top of the drinks cabinet. ‘In fact,’ he added grimly once the butler had left the room, ‘from the look of the two of you, I think we could all do with a little drop of “or something”,’ and he moved to pour the brown liquid into three glasses.

  Cassandra couldn’t stand brandy, and she knew her mother wasn’t particularly keen on it either, but if Jonas said they could do with a drop of it, then they probably could! Neither of them was prepared to argue with him anyway, and she and her mother took the glasses of brandy they were offered, her mother still eyeing Jonas nervously.

  Cassandra eyed him warily too, when, his own glass of brandy in his hand, he chose to sit on the sofa next to where she had just sat down, rather than in one of the available armchairs—And not at the other end of the sofa either, a cushion width separating them, as far away from her as it was possible to be, so that his not touching her of the last few days—except in his anger earlier!—could continue. Instead he sat on the cushion next to hers, the weight of his body tipping her slightly towards him, so that the length of their thighs was pressed close together, their arms brushing too as he raised the brandy glass to his lips and drank down a large swallow of the alcohol with hardly a wince.

  ‘You were saying, when I arrived, ladies…?’ He looked at them both blandly.

  Marguerite took a desperate swallow of her own brandy, almost choking as the fiery liquid hit the back of her throat!

  How much of her mother’s last comment had he overheard as he followed the housekeeper down the hallway to this room? Cassandra wondered. What did it really matter how much he had heard? He had to be made to realise now that she had been telling what she had believed to be the truth, when she told him earlier that Charles was the guilty one. And only her mother, it seemed, could verify that for her.

  She looked across at her mother, whose face was slightly flushed again now from the brandy she had almost choked on. ‘Tell him,’ Cassandra invited quietly.

  Her mother swallowed hard. ‘Really, Cassandra, I don’t think we need trouble Jonas with—’

  ‘I’m already troubled, Marguerite,’ he put in huskily. ‘I’m deeply troubled by the fact that Cassandra has been led to believe it was Charles and not your husband who diverted company funds into a private venture of his own.’

  ‘Jonas, please.’ Marguerite gave a delicate shudder. ‘You make David sound like a criminal!’ she protested.

  Cassandra was still staring at Jonas in speechless wonder; he believed her! When he had left her earlier he had treated her claim with scorn and derision, and now, not two hours later, he had changed his mind; what had happened in those intervening two hours to effect this change?

  He turned to look at her as he sensed her gaze on him, dark eyes enigmatic, holding her gaze now as he deliberately transferred the brandy glass to his other hand before reaching out and curling his fingers around one of her hands, the pressure of his fingers light and reassuring. Then he turned with that same deliberation, her hand still firmly held in his, and answered her mother. ‘He was,’ he confirmed softly. ‘What your husband did was effectively a criminal act—’

  ‘It was his own money, for goodness’ sake!’ her mother scorned this claim.

  ‘—a criminal act that, if he had lived, would have been punishable by law,’ Jonas continued determinedly.

  Marguerite paled. ‘You aren’t suggesting that David knew that and deliberately—?’

  ‘No, of course I’m not suggesting your husband deliberately caused the accident that killed him,’ Jonas dismissed with impatience. ‘What I am saying is that if either partner had still been alive, it might have been impossible to even think of covering this up.’ He turned to Cassandra as she tensed at his side. ‘Don’t worry,’ he told her almost gently. ‘I’m not about to renege on my side of the deal. Although,’ he added grimly, ‘I am going to release you from your side of it.’

  Cassandra gasped, her heart starting to pound so loudly that she thought he must be able to hear it too. ‘You don’t want my shares any more…?’

  His mouth twisted self-derisively. ‘Or a wife that hates me.’

  She swallowed hard; Jonas no longer wanted to marry her…? Oh, God, she couldn’t imagine her life without him now. She needed him!

  He gave her hand one last squeeze before releasing it, turning grimly back to her mother now. ‘I’ve been forcing your daughter into marrying me, Marguerite,’ he revealed sternly. ‘And she was willing to make that sacrifice because she loves you all. And Charles,’ he added gruffly, giving Cassandra a look that contained apology. ‘You must have loved him very much to put up with what I’ve put you through this last couple of months.’ He sighed, shaking his head.

  ‘I did,’ she confirmed huskily, still slightly numbed by his sudden change of mind about marrying her. She had been in love with Charles, still loved him, but as it was possible to love a slightly wayward child, someone who needed to be scolded and pampered in varying degrees; she had never felt protected and secure in that love. She loved Jonas for the living, breathing, vital man that he was, but also because she knew, for all his own vulnerability, that he would be the protector, the one who did the caring. And he was releasing her from their engagement… ‘Jonas—’

  ‘I can no longer allow you to make that sacrifice,’ he continued harshly, a nerve pulsing in his jaw. ‘I’m part of this family too; we’ll just have to weather the storm together. Not divided, or resentful, but together,’ he insisted firmly.

  Cassandra was more puzzled than ever by his change of attitude. Jonas had always acted against the family, both his own and hers. And yet he looked totally sincere in his announcement of a united front.

  ‘I took your advice and went to see my father, Cassandra,’ he explained in answer to her obvious puzzlement, a wry twist to his lips at the use of the word ‘advice’; they both knew she had been too angry at the time for it to have been that! ‘It wasn’t easy but—well, I think I’ve gone a long way to making my peace with him. I listened to what he had to say about his relationship with my mother, and accepted, if not agreed, that things aren’t always black and white, that sometimes they’re just grey.’

  Cassandra�
��s eyes were wide. ‘But your mother…?’

  He grimaced. ‘Is no angel. I’ve known that for years, but—sometimes it takes an outside view to tell you what you’ve always known.’ He sighed heavily.

  Cassandra looked at him concernedly, knowing it hadn’t been easy for him to hear those things, let alone admit they were true. ‘I’m sorry—’

  ‘I’m not.’ He gave a half-smile that didn’t quite come off. ‘Maybe it’s better that it’s over,’ he shrugged. ‘I can think of making a life for myself now that doesn’t involve some sort of retribution towards my family. Whatever,’ he dismissed with a grimace, ‘once I’ve sorted out this mess at Hunter and Kyle perhaps I’ll go back to the States and—’

  ‘No!’ Cassandra gasped her dismay at the prospect of him leaving, standing up abruptly to look down at him imploringly. ‘Jonas, you can’t do that!’

  ‘Don’t look so worried,’ he soothed wryly. ‘I won’t go until I’m sure Hunter and Kyle is back on its feet—’

  ‘You don’t understand, Jonas,’ she told him with barely contained urgency. ‘I don’t want you to go. Me!’ she clarified forcefully as he frowned up at her. ‘I don’t want you to release me from our engagement either. I want—I want—’

  Jonas stood up too now, and as they looked at each other the two of them might have been the only ones in the room. ‘What do you want, Cassandra?’ He was watching her almost warily now, as if he both feared and longed for her answer.

  Fear? In Jonas? Not fear, exactly, more trepidation, she amended thoughtfully, as if a lot depended upon her answer. And perhaps it did…

  And yet still she hesitated about revealing her complete emotional vulnerability to him. Although if Jonas had come here straight from talking to Peter he must be feeling more than slightly emotionally raw himself! ‘Bethany would miss you if you went away,’ she said gruffly.

  Jonas’s eyes darkened with an unfathomable emotion, but his expression softened as he thought of the young child. ‘I’ll miss her too,’ he acknowledged huskily. ‘Perhaps you’ll allow her to come and visit me some time?’

  ‘In America?’

  ‘Yes,’ he confirmed gruffly.

  Cassandra moistened her lips nervously. ‘You and your wife?’ She wasn’t a hundred per cent certain of the reason he was going back to America, and if it was a woman he was actually returning to…!

  His mouth twisted in ruefull self-mockery. ‘I doubt I’ll ever marry now.’

  She looked at him intently, hope soaring in her heart at his use of the word ‘now’. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Maybe it would be better if I left you two alone to talk?’ Her mother stood up, reminding them of her presence, obviously feeling very much in the way.

  ‘It’s all right, Mother.’ Cassandra was the one to answer her firmly. ‘Jonas and I are the ones who are leaving.’

  His eyes widened at her determined tone, dark brows raised. ‘We are?’

  ‘Yes, we are,’ she nodded. ‘Contrary to what you said earlier, we—we have a wedding rehearsal to complete.’ She was taking a gamble, the biggest gamble of her life, and the stakes were the highest she could possibly make—her future with Jonas.

  He looked at her searchingly—hungrily?—a dark frown on his brows. Cassandra returned his piercing gaze steadily, although inside she was a quivering mass of uncertainty; what if she had gambled and lost? But at the same time she had nothing to lose; Jonas was going to leave here anyway if she didn’t make some attempt to stop him, and take her future happiness with him, so there was nothing to lose and everything to gain if her gamble should by some miracle pay off. Something, besides her loss of temper earlier, had to have triggered off this change of heart in Jonas towards his family and their forced marriage.

  ‘So we do,’ he finally answered her huskily, and Cassandra began to breathe again—the first indication she had that she wasn’t imagining this whole thing. Jonas turned to her mother. ‘Don’t worry about Hunter and Kyle, Marguerite,’ he assured her dismissively. ‘I will sort it out.’

  ‘Cassandra?’ Her mother looked at her uncertainly.

  ‘As Jonas said, Mother, don’t worry.’ She squeezed her mother’s hand reassuringly before kissing her on the cheek. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow morning,’ she promised, glancing across at Jonas as she did so, her heart in her mouth at how wonderfully handsome he was, at how much she loved him…! ‘Probably late morning,’ she added decisively before releasing her mother’s hand and turning to join Jonas. ‘Shall we go?’ she prompted huskily.

  It wasn’t until they got outside that Cassandra remembered they had arrived in separate cars. And she didn’t want to be parted from Jonas just now—look what had happened the last time he had left her; she would hate him to revert back to that autocrat. ‘We’ll go in your car,’ she told him firmly. ‘I can always collect mine in the morning.’

  ‘Cassandra—’

  ‘Let’s wait until we get back to the house, Jonas,’ she pleased. She needed time to gather her courage together for the next assault—because telling Jonas she loved him, or making him believe it, wasn’t going to be easy! She had no idea what she would do, if at the end of all this he rejected that love. In fact, she couldn’t even bear to think about that!

  ‘Whatever you say.’ He was surprisingly acquiescent—probably because he needed time to think things over too! She just hoped he didn’t use the time to build back all those defences that made it so difficult for them to communicate over the things that were really important, such as how they really felt about each other…

  Jean didn’t seem in the least surprised to see the two of them arrive back together. After Jonas’s earlier visit after Cassandra had already gone out, she probably thought it was perfectly natural for them to return together. After assuring them that Bethany hadn’t stirred in their absence, she excused herself for the night.

  Cassandra had been completely wrong in her belief that the drive home would give her time to gather her courage together for the conversation yet to come; she was as nervous as a young girl as she faced Jonas across the sitting-room. And Jonas looked as pale and tense as she felt! Where did she even begin to tell him how she felt about him?

  ‘I love you, Cassandra Kyle Hunter.’ He was the one to suddenly speak into the silence. ‘And I’ve never said that to any other woman.’

  All her nervousness, all her doubts, everything but the fact that this wonderful, magnificent man—she agreed whole-heartedly with Bethany!—loved her faded from her mind. ‘Oh, Jonas!’ she choked happily as she launched herself into his arms. ‘I love you too. Oh, God, how I love you!’ She rained kisses all over the hardness of his cheeks and jaw, laughing and crying at the same time—although both laughter and tears were erased as Jonas crushed her to him, his mouth fiercely claiming hers.

  It was all there in that warmly exploring kiss—all his pent-up love for her, all the emotion he had shown her only with the touch of his lips and hands the night they made love. Because he had made love to her, no doubt about it; he had loved, adored and worshipped her body that night. As he loved, adored and worshipped her lips now.

  ‘God!’ He finally broke the kiss to rest his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged. ‘I can’t believe how much I love you, Cassandra,’ he groaned. ‘I took one look at you when I came back to England nine months ago and knew I wanted you for my own. And I despised myself for it. That was why I was such a bastard to you that first day we met,’ he said grimly. ‘Why I nurtured the hate I saw in your face that day for the things I was saying to you. I didn’t want to love you. When I found out about the money missing from Hunter and Kyle—God, it seemed as if I would be able to have you for myself after all, without actually having to admit that I loved you!’ He shook his head self-disgustedly. ‘That’s how determined I was not to make myself vulnerable to Charles’s widow, of all people!’

  Cassandra looked up at him with dazed eyes, her hands clinging to the hardness of his shoulders to stop herself from collapsing
completely after the onslaught of his kiss. ‘All this time…?’ she said disbelievingly—not because she did disbelieve, but because it was so incredible!

  ‘God, yes!’ He gave a self-derisive grimace. ‘And all I kept asking myself was what would I have done if I had come back for your wedding to Charles five years ago and felt the same way!’ His eyes were dark with the pain of those agonising thoughts.

  ‘I loved Charles, I’m not about to deny that I did,’ she told him huskily. ‘But—well, I had to be the strong one, and—it wasn’t always easy.’ She grimaced.

  ‘I knew you loved him,’ Jonas groaned. ‘I think I’ve always known that. It was just easier for me to believe he had been fooled when he married you; that way I could even try to convince myself that you weren’t worth loving either.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘It’s much easier to hate than it is to love, Cassandra,’ he admitted gruffly. ‘Tonight, when I realised just how desperate you seemed to be to get out of marrying me, that you would even try to implicate Charles to do so—’

  ‘But I really believed what I told you was true,’ she protested, eyes dark with the memory of how she had felt as if she was betraying Charles when she finally told Jonas the truth.

  Jonas nodded abruptly. ‘Once I got away from here, from you—for some reason you seem to cloud my judgement,’ he admitted ruefully, ‘I sat and thought about what you had said, and realised you really had believed it was Charles you were protecting. I could see by the genuine shock on your face, when I insisted it wasn’t, that that was true, and if you had believed that, then there was only one person who could have told you it: Charles himself. With that realisation I finally had to admit that, selfish as I believe Charles was, he must have loved you too, and by accepting that I also knew that the grudge I’ve had against Charles and my father for all these years was actually destroying any hope I might have now of winning you for myself. But to do that I had to first let you go—’

  ‘I don’t want you to let me go!’ she told him fiercely, her hands tightening on his shoulders.