Second Chance with the Millionaire

by Penny Jordan

  They kissed again lingeringly and then he was gone, leaving her to pick up the remnants of her shattered control and try to work.

  At three o’clock, long before she had expected Saul back, Lucy heard a car.

  Curiosity drove her from her chair to the window, her mouth compressing slightly as she saw Neville extricating himself from the driver’s seat of his sports car.

  At thirty-one his face showed the manner of man he had become: greedy, grasping and selfish in the way that only the weak could be. Lucy knew that her uncle was bitterly disappointed in his son. Not so much in the way he ran the business—Neville was an astute businessman although his methods weren’t those of his father; no, it was his inner moral code—or lack of it—that most hurt her uncle. Sometimes Lucy felt that Neville almost enjoyed hurting others.

  He smiled as he saw her, the calculating ingratiating smile that told her he must want something. Neville had wanted many somethings from her over the years, but now she was immune to the shallow charm he turned on so effortlessly, tolerating him only for the sake of her uncle.

  He came in via the drawing-room french window and would have embraced her if Lucy hadn’t adroitly avoided him.

  ‘Our colonial cousin nowhere in evidence I see?’

  The sarcastic twist to his lips as he referred to Saul infuriated Lucy but caution urged her to hold her tongue. Neville had always been remarkably clever about recognising weakness in others and then turning it to his own advantage.

  ‘Have you come down to see him?’ She kept her voice carefully neutral, noting that Neville had left the french windows open.

  ‘Sort of. But I wanted to have a chat with you first.’

  Again that winning smile. Once she had made the mistake of aligning herself with Neville against Saul, and she would never totally forgive herself for that mistake, but she was careful not to allow any of her distaste to show in her face, saying lightly instead, ‘I’m flattered.’

  ‘Oh no you’re not,’ Neville told her softly. ‘You hate my guts.’ He smiled coldly at her stunned expression. ‘Whatever else you might be you’re no actress, cos, but you do owe me a favour and I’m calling it in.’

  ‘A favour?’

  ‘The recommendation to Bennett’s that they read your manuscript,’ he reminded her mockingly. ‘Surely you don’t think anyone would have paid it a blind bit of notice otherwise?’

  What was he implying? Lucy looked at him suspiciously.

  ‘OK, I’m sure the book’s well enough written, but well written books are a hundred a penny—you know that. Without my father’s pull, it would never have got past the first read—if it had made it that far.’

  There was enough truth in his statement to make her hesitate to deny it. There were hundreds of other writers far more skilled than she was herself—she knew that, but she had been lucky enough to have an entrée into the publishing world. Even so…

  ‘What sort of favour Neville?’ she demanded sharply.

  ‘Nothing too painful,’ he assured her, giving a soft, satisfied laugh as she capitulated. ‘Some business friends of mine are interested in buying this place—at the right price of course.’ He saw her expression and laughed softly, ‘Oh come on, Lucy, don’t give me that look. All I want you to do is to drop a word in old Patterson’s ear that you’ve heard of someone who’s interested in buying the place. He thinks a lot of you—he’s always had a soft spot for you. As far as we know no one else is interested in buying.’

  ‘So why go about making your offer in such an underhand way?’ Lucy asked hotly. ‘Why not approach Saul openly and honestly?’

  Neville laughed jeeringly. ‘Oh come on—you know the answer to that. He’d never sell this place to us if he knew I was involved.

  Lucy knew that Neville spoke the truth. On the surface his request seemed perfectly feasible… and yet… ‘What is it exactly you want me to do?’ she asked him suspiciously.

  ‘I just want you to have a word with old Patterson and find out if anyone else is interested and if so…’

  ‘You said they weren’t,’ Lucy reminded him sharply, watching him shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. She didn’t trust Neville; his request, on the surface so reasonable, seemed to her to be just an excuse, a front to hide his real purpose behind, but unless she played along with him a little she would have absolutely no chance of discovering what that purpose was. And she wanted to find out because instinctively she knew it threatened Saul.

  ‘Come on Lucy, you owe me a favour.’

  Normally she would have reminded him that it had been his father who had helped her to find a publisher, but now she kept silent, pretending to consider for a few seconds.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I’ll do what I can,’ she fibbed, smiling at him, ‘but first of all I want to know exactly what’s going on.’

  He looked so satisfied that Lucy knew she had been right to distrust him. Alarm leapt along her veins as she contemplated his gloating expression.

  ‘Well… why not,’ he agreed grinning at her. ‘After all, you’ve got about as much love for our wild colonial usurper as I have myself, haven’t you?

  ‘There’s a whisper in the City that the Government are planning to build a new armaments place down here. I picked it up in my club from an old school chum. They haven’t fixed on a site as yet, but it’s odds on that it will be within a couple of miles or so of this place. There’s a lot of money going into it, and lots of top brass involved.

  ‘All those people stuck down here are going to want somewhere to let off steam and enjoy themselves, and that’s where this place comes in. If we could get it at the right price, we can turn it into a hotel-cum-sports complex to outclass any in the country. We’d make a real killing, especially if we can buy it off little ol’ Saul for peanuts. And that’s where you come in, my love. A word from you to Patterson will almost guarantee that we can get the place at a knock-down price, especially if you told him that you were involved as a shareholder—which you could be. If I know my uncle’s solicitor he’ll be thinking that you’re getting a pretty raw deal out of the estate.’

  His words came very close to the truth, her father’s solicitor had never approved of what her father had done and had said so. He was also very fond of her and would no doubt be prepared to look favourably on a request from her, but she felt sure that Neville misjudged him when he hinted that he might put her interests before Saul’s. The solicitor was far too honourable and honest for that, but she was not going to tell Neville that.

  What frightened her most was the knowledge that, if there were no other buyers, Saul could well be forced to part with the house at a knock-down price to Neville and his business friends, leaving them to make a good deal of money out of their acquisition.

  ‘Well, Lucy, what do you say?’ His voice had dropped caressingly as he came to stand beside her, both of them framed in the light from the french window as he pulled her into his arms. Lucy had to fight against flinching away from him, praying that he wouldn’t guess at her real feelings. For Saul’s sake she mustn’t betray to Neville what she was feeling, at least until she had had the chance to tell Saul what he planned. Who knew, she thought feverishly, her mind chasing round in frantic circles, perhaps, with his stepfather’s business acquaintances, he might be able to raise enough money for such a conversion himself?

  ‘For old time’s sake? Remember what a fool we made of him that summer? Wouldn’t you enjoy doing it all over again?’

  Urging herself to play for time, Lucy swallowed her loathing of all that her cousin was suggesting and said huskily, ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Of course you would. This place should have been yours, not his. You’ll use your charm to get round him then?’ he asked, referring once more to the solicitor. ‘It shouldn’t be too hard.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’ Her voice sounded breathless, strangled by her dislike of what she was doing and her panic that Neville might guess that she was lying.

  ‘You�
��d better leave,’ she cautioned him. ‘Saul will be back soon.’

  He frowned and then nodded his head.

  ‘Perhaps you’re right. How long do you think it will take you to bring him round? A couple of days?’

  Him? Once again Lucy realised Neville was talking about the solicitor. ‘I’m not sure. I’ll give you a ring.’

  ‘Umm. I’ll give you a ring the day after tomorrow to see what progress you’ve made.’

  She had to force herself to stand still when he kissed her, loathing the feel of his mouth against her own. But at last she was free, her mind and stomach both churning hopelessly as she watched Neville disappear through the french window. Seconds later she heard the roar of his car engine fade into the thick silence.

  Dear God, she hoped that Saul would be back soon. There was so much she had to tell him. She couldn’t work, not now, so instead she went back to the Dower House intending to shower and change for the evening.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SHE heard Saul’s car as she was putting on her make-up, her fears forgotten as she flew to her bedroom window in time to see it disappearing up the drive.

  Disappointment ached through her that he had not thought to stop, but then, she reasoned to herself, he was not likely to realise she was here. She glanced at her watch. Almost half past six, not too early surely for her to turn up for their dinner date?

  She decided to walk to the house, and passed Mrs Isaacs on the drive as the other woman was on her way home. She slowed down her car and leaned out of the window to say worriedly to Lucy,

  ‘There’s something worrying Mr Saul. Came in in a real strange mood he did, and now he’s in the library drinking whisky.’

  Worry etched a small frown line on her forehead as Lucy hurried up to the house; even allowing for a degree of embellishment Mrs Isaacs voice had held enough genuine anxiety to make her wonder what had happened. Had Saul received another telephone call from America? Was his stepfather’s health showing more signs for concern?

  She called out to him as she entered the hall and receiving no reply hurried into the library. The moment she saw his face all her worries about Neville and his plans left her. Saul was frowning, nursing a glass of whisky, as he turned to look at her broodingly.

  ‘Saul what on earth’s wrong? Is it your stepfather? Is something wrong at home?’

  As she flew towards him, it seemed for a second or so that he almost flinched back from her, but no, she must have been mistaken because his fingers were now curling round her upper arm, almost painfully tightly she realised, but such was her concern for him that she didn’t bother to draw this to his attention.

  He was looking at her in a very odd way, she realised, searching her face, almost desperately.

  ‘Saul… What is it?’ She reached out pleadingly towards him, smelling the spirit on his breath. ‘Something’s happened, hasn’t it?’ she demanded positively.

  His mouth curled into a totally humourless smile, his expression one of such frozen bleakness that it made her shiver. She had never seen such a cold look in anyone’s eyes before.

  ‘You could say that, but now isn’t the time to talk about it!’ He was abrupt with her almost to the point of dislike.

  ‘Would you prefer me not to stay?’

  She had to ask him the question, barely recognising the man who had been so tender towards her in this cold, almost frightening stranger.

  ‘No… No, stay.’ He turned away from her, pouring himself another drink, she noticed worriedly, his back to her as he asked tonelessly, ‘Did you get much done this afternoon?’

  ‘Er…’ Now was her chance to tell him about Neville, but how could she add to whatever was already on his mind?

  ‘So… so.’

  ‘I went to see Patterson this afternoon,’ he told her abruptly. ‘He advises me to sell this place. What do you think?’

  His question caught her off guard, and without thinking she replied absently, ‘I don’t see that you’ve much option. It would cost a fortune to live in.’

  ‘Your father managed it,’ he reminded her tersely.

  Lucy didn’t need reminding that what few assets the estate had possessed which might have benefited it had been realised by her father for Oliver’s benefit. A faint tinge of guilty colour washed her skin at Saul’s bitter tone.

  ‘By the skin of his teeth,’ she agreed quietly.

  ‘So you think I should sell then?’ he asked her curtly.

  He was looking at her now, his eyes glittering almost feverishly, high colour burning over his cheekbones almost as though he had a fever. He looked ill, Lucy realised worriedly, his skin beneath that hectic flush an unhealthy greyish colour.

  ‘Saul. What is it?’ She went towards him automatically, stopping in shock when he raised his hands as though to rebuff her.

  ‘You haven’t answered my question yet, Lucy,’ he told her harshly. ‘Would you advise me to sell—to get rid of this place as quickly as I can before it becomes a millstone round my neck?’

  This wasn’t the time to ask him if there was some way he could raise the finance to out-manoeuvre Neville and his cronies—not while he was obviously so worried about something else.

  ‘You don’t need to say a word—your very silence condemns you,’ he muttered thickly. ‘God, when I think how I let you deceive me. How easily I believed.’ He swore suddenly and viciously, flinging his glass into the fireplace where it smashed into a million tiny shards.

  ‘Saul! Please… What is it?’

  ‘Saul… Please…!’ he mimicked with savage hurtfulness. ‘Please what? Take you to bed? Sell this place at a knock-down price to your precious cousin?’

  He saw the shock mirrored in her eyes and laughed bitterly. ‘Oh yes, I know all about it, Lucy. I overheard the pair of you talking… or plotting, rather. You never for one moment meant a word of what you’ve said to me, did you? It was all a game, a ploy to keep me off guard? And to think I actually…’ She watched the muscles in his jaw lock, too shocked to take in what was happening. It was almost as though she was taking part in a play—something so unreal that she herself could hardly believe what was going on.

  ‘I saw the car and heard your voices. I was just about to come in when I heard Neville asking you for your help. You didn’t even hesitate did you, Lucy?’

  His voice rippled with contempt and she shivered beneath the lash of it.

  ‘Saul, you don’t understand. I had to pretend to go along with Neville to discover what he was doing. How can you believe I would actually help him to injure you? Is that why you’re so angry?’ Because of what you thought you overheard?’

  ‘If it was all for my benefit, why haven’t you said anything?’ he asked her curtly.

  Exasperation and pain twisted inside her. ‘Because I thought you already had enough on your mind… because I was worried that you might have had bad news from home and I didn’t want to add to it. I was going to tell you, Saul, you must believe that.’ For the first time she allowed panic to invade her voice. ‘I was going to ask you if it might be possible for you to raise enough interest and funds among your father’s business acquaintances to develop the house along the lines Neville was planning yourself. Saul, please, you must believe me.’

  He looked at her bleakly and then demanded, ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I love you.’

  It took all her courage to say it, but she sensed that her words had got through to him. He watched for several minutes, studying her as though weighing up one set of facts against another. She could understand him feeling angry and betrayed if he had only caught the tail part of her conversation with Neville—as he must have done; and what had happened in the past must have only reinforced that feeling of betrayal, but surely he must realise how she felt about him. It hurt her that he should so easily believe her capable of deceit and she was forced to recognise how little they really knew of one another as people.

  ‘Tell me exactly what Neville said,’ he demanded at last.
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  Slowly, almost hesitantly at first, her voice still betraying the shock his accusation had given her, she did so, conscious that all the time he was watching her, almost broodingly. Thinking what?

  She longed to cry out to him to believe her but pride prevented her. Something extremely precious and fragile had been shattered by his harsh words and she wasn’t sure if it could ever be replaced, and then suddenly his expression changed, his voice faintly husky as he muttered,

  ‘Lucy, for God’s sake, don’t look at me like that. I apologise for what I said to you. Please try to understand; seeing the two of you together, listening to him talking to you, took me back twelve years. I was jealous,’ he told her simply, the words half muffled as his lips moved against her hair. ‘So jealous that I didn’t stop to think beyond what I’d heard. So jealous, in’ fact, that I drove away again and took solace in the village pub—at least until I saw Neville’s car drive past the window.

  ‘Say you forgive me?’ He was kissing her now, fever-hungry kisses that burned into her face and throat.

  Reluctantly she pushed him away.

  ‘I came here to have dinner,’ she reminded him.

  ‘I don’t want dinner—I just want you.’

  The controlled man of the previous evening was gone, she realised as she looked into his eyes, spears of mingled fear and joy shafting through her body as she realised what he meant.

  ‘I want you Lucy,’ he reinforced, murmuring the words against her mouth. ‘Now.’

  Caution warred with desire. She remembered the glass of whisky he had hurled against the fireplace. How many had there been before that? Was his desire fuelled by love or something darker? And most important of all, did he really believe what she had told him? He had accepted her explanation readily enough—too readily perhaps in view of his earlier almost frenzied rage.

  ‘Don’t you want me?’

  His voice whispered tormentingly against her ear, making her shiver with delight. Of course she wanted him. His hand cupped her face, lifting it so that he could look into her eyes.