His After-Hours Mistress

by Amanda Browning

  ‘No, thank goodness. One of you is enough!’ she returned with heavy irony.

  His lips twitched. ‘Really? I thought you might be memorising my features so you can dream about me later,’ he countered equally mockingly.

  ‘I don’t need to do that. Your face is unforgettable. More likely to bring on a nightmare than a pleasant dream.’

  ‘Now, that wasn’t nice. It was also untrue,’ Roarke dismissed easily, not in the least offended. ‘You’re no more afraid of me than I am of you. I know what gives you nightmares, remember, and I’m not it.’

  ‘In that case, it’s awfully big-headed of you to assume I’d dream about you,’ she told him in her coolest tone, to which he merely laughed.

  ‘Sweetheart, I doubt you can get me out of your head any more than I can get you out of mine, right now,’ he remarked dryly, and she knew what he meant. He was occupying far too much of her thoughts.

  ‘Well!’ she exclaimed with false brightness. ‘This isn’t turning out at all the way I expected!’

  ‘Oh, yeah!’ Roarke agreed. ‘Life has a way of knocking the ground out from under you all right.’

  She grimaced at him helplessly. ‘Why did you have to turn into a nice guy?’

  He spread his hands. ‘Why did you have to thaw out?’

  Stalemate.

  Ginny groaned. ‘This is getting us nowhere.’

  ‘Fighting the inevitable is generally a waste of time,’ Roarke pointed out, and Ginny rounded on him.

  ‘Nothing is inevitable. We still have a choice. I choose to do nothing about it!’ she insisted, and once again their gazes locked. An electric silence fell.

  ‘How come I never noticed that your eyes are such a startling green before?’ Roarke wanted to know. ‘It would be very easy to drown in them.’

  She knew the feeling. She only had to look into his to feel the same. ‘I’ll throw you a life preserver,’ she returned a tad breathlessly.

  ‘Hey, you two!’ A voice right beside them made them both start. They looked round to find one of Roarke’s brothers grinning at them. ‘This isn’t the time or place for what you two were contemplating! Besides, lunch is being served. The amount of electricity coming off both of you, you’ll need to stoke the boiler or you might run out of steam just at the wrong moment!’ he added, and walked away laughing and grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘Thanks for the advice, Jack!’ Roarke called after him, whilst Ginny stood there with beetroot-coloured cheeks. She was very much aware that others had heard what Jack had said, and they were smiling as they went past.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Roarke apologised, taking her arm and joining in the exodus to the dining room. ‘One day I expect him to grow up.’

  ‘Why is it the ground never opens up and swallows you just when you really wish it would?’ Ginny groaned, glancing round under her lashes. It came as no surprise to meet the Brigadier’s inimitable stony look, and realise that he had overheard what Jack had said too. ‘Oh, great!’ she muttered. It never rained but it poured. Still, his opinion of her was so low, this would hardly make a difference.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘The Brigadier heard everything.’

  ‘Forget it. Some people have the unhappy knack of being where you least want them to be,’ he passed it off, then shot her a look. ‘Does it bother you that he heard?’

  Ginny sighed. ‘No…maybe a little. It’s the child in me that somehow still hopes to win his approval. Not very rational, but that’s the way it is.’

  ‘Sweetheart, he’s a man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing. He won’t change. He doesn’t want to. It’s his loss, but he’ll never see it that way.’

  Once again he astounded her with his perceptiveness. ‘You’ve known him five minutes. How can you understand him so well?’

  ‘Because I meet people just like him all the time,’ Roarke returned with a faint shrug. ‘They tend to have no sense of humour. It comes from taking themselves too seriously.’

  ‘Something you could never be accused of,’ she quipped, to which he chuckled.

  ‘Life’s hard enough without being able to find the funny side of it. Look at us, for instance. Now, that is funny.’

  ‘Highly amusing, but I don’t see you laughing,’ Ginny pointed out sardonically.

  ‘Somebody up there is having a huge joke at our expense, wouldn’t you say? We’ve been skirmishing since the moment we met, and yet since yesterday what I want to do is get you alone somewhere, rip our clothes off and indulge in some indoor pursuit that I guarantee will give us both a great deal of pleasure.’

  Instantly, Ginny’s mind was filled with the vision exactly as he had described it, and it sent her temperature soaring. ‘You don’t go in for false modesty about your prowess, I notice,’ she managed to say reasonably calmly, when she felt anything but calm.

  Grey eyes glittered rakishly. ‘I’ve had no complaints.’

  ‘Yes, well, there’s always a first time.’

  Roarke laughed huskily. ‘You’ll be too out of breath to complain!’

  She very nearly choked at that. It had to be the most downright arrogant thing he had ever said. ‘I’d watch my step if I were you, or you’ll be tripping over your ego!’

  ‘I’m just telling it like it is.’

  ‘Well, cut it out. You aren’t helping to cool things down.’

  He shrugged. ‘The curse of an agile imagination. My mind insists on seeing the possibilities in vivid Technicolor.’

  Ginny held up a cautionary hand. ‘Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. But you’re right about one thing—the joke’s on us. What I wouldn’t give for a bargepole right now!’ she added with wry amusement.

  Roarke laughed softly, and the sound tingled its way along her nerves. She liked the sound of that laugh, which only went to prove she was losing her grip. Somebody up there was most certainly having the time of his life.

  Several hours later, having consumed good food and good wine, with an appetite she hadn’t expected, Ginny was feeling much more relaxed and at ease with the world. Fortunately, the seating arrangement had been traditional, so Ginny’s family were on the top table, along with Roarke’s. They themselves were on a table sufficiently far away to allow Ginny to forget them temporarily. The other guests at their table turned out to be distant cousins of Roarke’s, and were a friendly group who had plenty of tales to tell about him, which he listened to with wry good humour, and kept the laughter bubbling.

  They had just finished the inevitable speeches and toasts, and now the wedding guests began to mingle once more and let their hair down. A band arrived and began playing dance music, and slowly couples began to filter on to the floor. Ginny found herself in constant demand by Roarke’s male relatives, and for most of the next hour she was barely off the dance floor for long. Finally she pleaded exhaustion and returned to the table. Roarke was already there, though she had seen him dancing occasionally as she circled the floor.

  He watched her flop into her chair and take a much needed drink from her glass of now tepid white wine. ‘I had no idea you were so popular,’ he observed coolly, and Ginny looked at his set expression and burst out laughing.

  ‘I do believe you’re jealous!’ she gurgled, emboldened by the wine, though she was not even close to being tipsy.

  ‘Not jealous, but I didn’t find the sight of you being fondled by so many of my male relatives amusing,’ he corrected smoothly, though Ginny thought she detected an edge to the words.

  ‘I wasn’t fondled, as you so delicately put it. I tell a lie—one of your uncles tried to grope me, but he had had too much to drink.’ She pooh-poohed the idea immediately.

  ‘You should have slapped his face,’ Roarke declared, and she stared at him in total surprise.

  ‘He was just being friendly.’

  ‘He was being familiar, and I didn’t like it.’

  Her jaw dropped. ‘Then you slap his face,’ she rejoined smartly. ‘Roarke, you’re b
eing ridiculous,’ she added irritably, yet inside she experienced a tiny glow of satisfaction at his reaction. Which then confused her because of course she didn’t want him to be jealous. He was nothing to her, their recently discovered attraction to each other notwithstanding.

  He was not impressed. ‘May I remind you you’re supposed to be here with me?’

  She was beginning to get annoyed. ‘I am with you, Roarke, but you’re starting to make me regret it,’ she told him bluntly.

  ‘Lovers’ tiff?’ Jenna’s catty question took them both by surprise. They had been so involved in their argument that they hadn’t heard her arrive.

  Ginny swung round on her chair. ‘Do you make a habit of eavesdropping on private conversations?’ she charged the other woman, eyes flashing angrily.

  ‘Actually, darling, your conversation doesn’t interest me in the slightest. I came to ask Roarke to dance with me,’ Jenna responded disdainfully. She gave him her most alluring smile. ‘One dance, Roarke, for duty’s sake. What possible harm could there be in that?’ she cajoled, leaving him very little choice.

  He rose to his feet with a tight smile. ‘Never let it be said I refused to do my duty,’ he said, standing back so that Jenna could precede him on to the floor. The other woman left with a wave of her fingers and a smug smile.

  Ginny decided she was coming to seriously dislike Jenna Adams. The woman was trouble and, judging from Roarke’s past experiences with her, there were few lengths to which she wouldn’t go to get her man. However, there was very little she could get up to on the dance floor with all the family around them, so Ginny took the opportunity to visit the ladies’ cloakroom. She was sitting at one of the vanity units when the door opened again and Lucy came in.

  ‘I thought I would never get the chance to talk to you,’ Lucy said after the sisters had greeted each other with a hug. ‘This is the one place even Dad wouldn’t dare to go!’ she added with a laugh.

  Ginny laughed too, but she realised they didn’t have much time, and there was something she desperately wanted to know. ‘So, what were you going to tell me this morning? Why had things turned bad?’

  Lucy sighed heavily. ‘I met someone, Ginny. His name is Peter McMillan, and he’s a law student in his final year. He’s wonderful, and…I love him, Ginny, so much it hurts,’ she said fervently, holding on to Ginny’s hands.

  Ginny could see where this was heading, and her heart sank. ‘The Brigadier has other plans for you,’ she said flatly.

  ‘How do you know?’ Lucy asked in surprise, and Ginny winced sympathetically.

  ‘He told me so last night.’

  ‘You’ve seen him?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Ginny confirmed wryly.

  Lucy looked dispirited. ‘He gave me this list of people he wants me to pick a husband from! I couldn’t believe it. It’s positively medieval!’

  ‘Have you told him about Peter?’ Ginny queried, and Lucy shook her head forcefully.

  ‘I didn’t dare to. I was afraid of what he might do. Peter wanted to confront him, but I knew that wouldn’t work. Now Dad’s turning on the pressure and I don’t know what to do.’

  Ginny knew, but it depended on one answer. ‘Does Peter love you?’

  Lucy’s face took on a glow that would have made words unnecessary. ‘Oh, yes. But he’s not a rich man, and he doesn’t come from a prominent family. Dad would never agree. Never. I thought about running away, but Peter shares with two other students. I had nowhere to go.’

  ‘You do now,’ Ginny corrected firmly. ‘You must come to me.’ She reached into her purse for a pen and snapped a tissue from the nearby box. She wrote quickly and handed the paper to her sister. ‘This is my address. Hide it somewhere safe. As soon as you can, you must leave home and come to me. The Brigadier can’t stop you. You’re eighteen now, and legally free to leave home.’

  The relief on Lucy’s face was countered by a swift frown. ‘But, Ginny, are you sure? If Dad found out he would be furious.’

  ‘He can’t do anything to me, Lucy,’ she reassured immediately. ‘You can stay with me as long as you like.’

  Lucy bit her lip. ‘I couldn’t pay you much until I get a job, but I’m willing to try my hand at anything. Peter and I want to get a place of our own as soon as we can, but he has a student’s loan to pay off, so it won’t be anything grand.’

  Ginny gave a swift shake of her head. ‘You don’t have to pay me anything. I just want you out of that house.’

  ‘Will Roarke mind if I move in with you?’ Lucy surprised her with the next question.

  ‘Why on earth should he?’ she asked, quite forgetting the role she was playing.

  Lucy coloured up. ‘Well, I mean… You two are used to being alone, aren’t you?’

  The penny dropped with an almighty clang. ‘Ah! Actually, Lucy, things aren’t quite what they seem. I’m just doing Roarke a favour,’ she explained uncomfortably.

  ‘Are you trying to tell me there’s nothing between you?’ Lucy asked in surprise, and Ginny nodded. To which her sister gave an unladylike snort of disbelief. ‘I don’t believe it. When you two are together there’s a positive zing in the air. There’s something putting that buzz in the air, and it isn’t bees!’

  That was something Ginny didn’t want to hear. ‘Roarke and I have been at loggerheads since we met. That’s what you’re picking up.’

  Lucy tutted disappointedly. ‘I didn’t come down in the last shower of rain, you know, but if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine with me,’ she declared airily, getting to her feet. ‘I’d better go before he sends Mum out in search of me.’ Bending, Lucy kissed Ginny’s cheek. ‘Thanks Ginny, you’re a lifesaver.’

  ‘That’s what big sisters are for,’ she retorted with a smile.

  At the door, Lucy glanced back over her shoulder. ‘I’ll come as soon as I can.’

  ‘I’ll be waiting,’ Ginny promised, and sank back with a sigh as the door closed behind her sister. It was going to be all right. Lucy was smart. She would play the dutiful daughter until the moment she left, and after that their father couldn’t touch her.

  She had Roarke to thank in the long run. If he hadn’t asked for her help, she would probably never have known about James, and would never have seen Lucy. A lot had happened in the last few days, and mostly for the good. Now, if only she could help Roarke out with his father, she would have gone some way to balancing the scales. As for her attraction to Roarke himself, she was going to do her best not to think about it at all, because it was frightening in its intensity, and she had no idea how to deal with it. She was unsettled by what she was experiencing. On the one hand she didn’t want it, yet on the other she knew that she had never wanted anything as much.

  If there was a funny side to this turn of events, she just couldn’t see it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  WHEN Ginny returned to their table some time later she discovered it was still empty, and began searching the crowd of dancers for Roarke. She found him without too much trouble—and the blonde head resting on his shoulder.

  Anger shot through her like a rapier at the sight, and she had to restrain herself from rushing on to the floor and pulling Jenna off him physically. She reminded herself that Roarke was not hers, but that did little to quell the anger. All she could think was that the woman had no right to be acting so possessively and that she, Ginny, was going to put a stop to it once and for all.

  How, she didn’t know, until her roving gaze fell on Lewis Adams and saw that he was watching the couple too. His expression was tight, and she didn’t have to be a mind-reader to know that he wasn’t happy with the situation. Ginny knew it wasn’t Roarke’s fault that Lewis’s wife was behaving so brazenly, but she wasn’t so sure that Lewis would see it that way. She knew Roarke was against telling his father what had really happened with Jenna, for fear of making the situation worse, but Ginny credited the older man with more wisdom now. Someone had to put him straight, and if Roarke wouldn’t do it, it fell to her
to do so.

  She had got no further than that when the man himself appeared before her. He smiled as he stood looking down at her, then held out his hand.

  ‘I think we ought to go and break that up, don’t you?’ he suggested, taking her by surprise.

  ‘Well…er…I was thinking the same thing myself,’ she admitted, getting to her feet and eyeing him warily. ‘Only…the situation might not be quite what you think.’

  ‘And just what would that be?’ he queried, ushering her the few yards to the dance floor and swinging her into his arms with decided panache.

  Ginny licked her lips nervously. ‘Roarke isn’t…I mean, he wouldn’t…’ The words tailed off lamely as she wasn’t sure how to proceed.

  As it happened, Lewis Adams smiled kindly. ‘I’m fully aware of what my son isn’t doing or wouldn’t do, Ginny,’ he told her confidentially, and she blinked at him.

  ‘You are?’ she asked doubtfully.

  ‘Oh, undoubtedly. I’m grateful that my son has better instincts when it comes to women than I do. You, my dear young woman, are the real McCoy, whilst Jenna is merely fool’s gold. Myself being the fool,’ he added with wry humour.

  Her lips twitched. ‘It wouldn’t be polite of me to agree with you.’

  ‘But to disagree would be a lie?’ Roarke’s father finished for her. ‘You’re quite right, of course. I did my son an injustice some years ago, and I fully intend to put that right. Firstly, though, I think it’s about time I put you and Roarke out of my misery.’ With which he steered her over to where his wife and son danced and tapped Roarke on the shoulder. ‘Ready to change partners, son? It’s time I took care of my wife. Come along, darling.’

  Ginny and Roarke watched as he danced a scowling Jenna away from them, then they were jostled by a couple and he guided Ginny out of the way.

  ‘We’re creating a minor log jam here,’ Roarke declared humorously, and Ginny eyed the crush dubiously.

  ‘Let’s go back,’ she suggested, but Roarke caught hold of her hand and used it to twirl her into his arms.