Old Desires

by Liz Fielding

  She quickly applied the final touch of colour to her lips, checked her hair and smiled with satisfaction at her reflection. She was determined to crush Joshua Kent with the ease with which she had made herself at home.

  She picked up the tiny matching jacket and pushed her feet into her sandals, before running down the stairs to throw open the door. But it was the chauffeur standing in the porch.

  ‘Mr Kent has been detained, Miss Carpenter. But he didn’t want to keep you waiting, so he asked me to fetch you.’

  She bit back her chagrin at being foiled in her plan. It was almost as if he had known.

  She smiled. ‘How kind of him.’ Soon after, the Rolls pulled smoothly into the long drive in front of Ashbrooke Hall, but didn’t stop at the front entrance. Instead, Holly was driven around the side and the car halted before an old stable-block. The chauffeur opened the door. ‘Mr Kent said to go straight up, miss. The door is open.’ She looked uncertainly at the stone stairway that ran up the outside of the building.

  ‘Up here?’ He nodded and after a moment’s hesitation she ran lightly up the steps to a half-open door.

  ‘…I thought you should know how things stand.’ Joshua’s voice drifted to her from inside. ‘No. Leave that to me, Marcus.’ There was a pause. ‘I can handle… No, it shouldn’t be too difficult…’

  He was apparently speaking to someone on the telephone and Holly found herself in the unenviable position of being an eavesdropper, her cheeks growing warm as she realised that she was the subject of the conversation. She knocked loudly.

  Joshua pulled the door open, the receiver still in his hand, and for a moment stared at her.

  ‘I’ll call you back in the morning,’ he told his caller and replaced the receiver on its cradle. ‘Come on in, Holly. I’m sorry I didn’t come myself. I’ve been trying to catch up with the messages left on my answering machine.’

  ‘I seem to be taking up rather a lot of your time,’ Holly said a little stiffly.

  He was reassuring. ‘It’s no trouble.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘Well, once I’ve signed your papers you’ll be able to get back to your own business.’ She managed a smile. ‘What exactly is your business, Joshua?’ she asked, her casual tone hiding the angry acceleration of her heart-rate. ‘I don’t believe you’ve ever said.’ His mouth that had once been so forbidding now seemed to smile almost too easily. Holly didn’t like that any better. At least she knew exactly where she was when he was being insufferable.

  But he refused to be drawn. ‘That’s because I make it a habit never to discuss my business out of the office,’ he said. ‘Would you like a drink?’

  She could hardly dispute this blatant lie without revealing that she had overheard part of his conversation and demanding that he tell her exactly what he had meant. But she was certain she already knew and equally certain that he would think of something perfectly innocent to fob her off with.

  So she made herself smile, too. ‘Thank you. A glass of wine?’

  ‘Come on through to the kitchen. I hope you don’t mind eating over here? The food will be exactly the same as in the dining room at the Hall, but we won’t have to put up with a horde of onlookers.’

  ‘Do other people find your eating habits that interesting?’ she asked, following him into a roomy kitchen fitted in warm antique pine and with a small round table that seemed to suggest intimate breakfasts for two.

  He grinned at her. ‘Oh, they’re used to me. But you, my dear, are a fairly hot item of gossip.’ Holly stared at him in astonishment. ‘Why would anyone want to gossip about me?’ she demanded to know.

  He selected a bottle of wine from an oversized refrigerator. ‘White?’ He held up a bottle of Chardonnay, wonderfully golden in the evening light. She nodded and he applied a corkscrew with deft precision. ‘You’re an unknown factor,’ he explained in answer to her question. ‘You’ve inherited an important piece of local property. And a beautiful woman with a considerable fortune is always a matter of interest, as you’ll quickly find out.’ He pulled the cork, poured the wine into two glasses and handed one to her. ‘Now, what would you like to eat?’

  His sudden reversion to the matter-of-fact momentarily threw her. ‘When David and I have a take-away it’s usually a pizza,’ she confessed as she took the menu he offered her.

  ‘Really?’ He sounded unsurprised. ‘Then I suggest you take this opportunity to spoil yourself. What do you like best? Big fat Dublin Bay prawns? Or Luigi makes a pate stuffed with truffles that defies description. Or quenelles—’

  ‘Stop!’ she cried. ‘I shall faint from hunger if you keep that up. It seems forever since I had anything to eat. Let me look.’ He laughed, to reveal a row of even white teeth and, with a flourish, held back a chair for her to sit down. Then he drew up another alongside her to sit close, his arm stretched along the back of her chair, his shoulder brushing hers as he leaned over her to point out some special treat. All the time she was trying to concentrate on the menu she was aware of him. The skin on the inside of his arm, silky against the coolness of her shoulder. His warm, masculine scent. She glanced up at him, her mouth inches from his neck, the clean line of his jaw. He turned to her.

  ‘Decided?’

  ‘The French mushroom tart,’ she said quickly. His face was very close, the grey eyes smiling with an unexpected warmth. ‘And…’ She faltered. For a moment he didn’t move and suddenly his arm around her shoulder made their closeness seem very intimate.

  ‘And?’ he prompted gently and her insides suddenly seemed to take on a life of their own, one over which she had no control.

  It took an enormous effort of will to make herself respond. ‘I’d like the trout fillet, please.’

  ‘Is that all?’ For a moment she thought that perhaps he sensed that it was far from all. That he knew she wanted him to bend those last few inches and kiss her. Kiss her properly. And for a moment she thought he was going to do just that. Instead, after a pause that might have been only a second, might have been forever, he stood up and called the hotel kitchen to place their orders. Then, taking their glasses and the bottle of wine, he led the way into the living-room.

  ‘It’ll be a while before the food arrives, we might as well be comfortable.’ Despite the rough stone walls the room was wonderfully welcoming. Deep armchairs, a thick carpet and a fireplace piled with logs and fir cones just waiting for a cool evening and the touch of a match. And at the far end, under a wide picture-window that took full advantage of the view, a table had already been laid for two.

  She sank into one of the armchairs and curled her legs beneath her. He stretched out in its pair on the other side of the hearth and smiled.

  It was a smile that could break your heart, she thought, and with the thought came a sudden chill. For a moment back there in the kitchen, with his arm around her shoulder, she had forgotten that she was angry with him, certain that he was trying to manipulate her to his own ends. But she made herself smile back.

  ‘You should smile more often, Holly. It suits you.’ His voice had a new, velvet texture that seemed to ripple down her spine.

  She lowered her lashes. ‘I think the same could be said for you, Joshua.’ For a moment his face stilled.

  Holly relaxed back into the armchair. If Joshua Kent thought that she could be romanced out of Highfield, far be it from her to disabuse him. For now.

  ‘Perhaps we ought to start this relationship again, Holly, from the beginning.’ Joshua was no longer smiling. ‘We seem to have begun very badly.’ There was a grave intensity in his expression that made it almost impossible to believe that he was simply leading her on. But, as long as she remembered that that was exactly what he was doing, she would be quite safe.

  ‘On the contrary, Joshua. I think you’ve been doing rather well,’ she answered with equal gravity, relieved that he would take the betraying colour staining her cheeks for something other than indignation that he thought her so gullible. ‘So far,’ she added softly under
her breath.

  Joshua’s forehead creased in the slightest frown and she thought for a moment that she had gone too far. She had little experience of flirting at this unspoken level of intensity.

  He leaned across and refilled her glass, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘I’m glad, Holly. We should be friends.’

  ‘Friends?’ She experimented with a soft laugh.

  The bottle, dewed with moisture, slipped through his fingers and hit the hearth rather hard. He steadied it, then said, ‘How long are you thinking of staying there?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she said, airily. ‘You were right. I’ve nothing to rush home for and I’d like to see a little of the countryside round here. Do you think the purchasers will mind waiting a while longer?’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘You could always tell them you couldn’t find me.’

  ‘And who shall I say is living at the house?’

  She shrugged, indicating that was his problem.

  ‘You could always move up here,’ he suggested.

  ‘Up here?’ she repeated faintly, and felt the slow, betraying spread of heat in her cheeks.

  The corners of his mouth creased in the slightest smile. ‘To the hotel. If you want to stay for a while. I’ve no idea how long they’ll wait, but you do run the risk of losing the sale altogether.’

  She ducked her head and tried to cover her confusion by taking a sip of wine. It took a moment for the catch in her throat to release itself. ‘After they’ve taken so much trouble? Waited so long? Surely not,’ she objected. ‘And I’d prefer to stay at Highfield.’

  ‘It’s up to you, but it is my duty to warn you of the risk. There’s always someone else willing to sell, Holly.’

  ‘In Ashbrooke?’ she countered.

  His forehead creased thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps not in Ashbrooke,’ he admitted.

  Holly was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain her pose under his unrelenting scrutiny. She swallowed, hard. ‘Can you see the house from here?’ she asked, and without waiting for an answer she stood up and crossed to the window. Joshua followed her.

  ‘It’s over there.’ He took her shoulders and gently moved her round and, standing close behind her, directed her to the furthest point visible from the window. ‘You can just see the rooftop.’

  His hands remained on her shoulders, the touch of his fingers electric against her bare skin, the length of his body hard against her back. She remained perfectly still, aware that things were moving much too quickly. Spiralling out of her control.

  ‘Turn round, Holly.’

  His voice vibrated against her scalp, charging the fine down on her cheeky making every nerve-end hyper-sensitive, so that she was aware of the heat of his body, the steady thud of his heart against her spine.

  She turned quickly, a laugh ready to tease away any expectations, but the words died on her lips as his hands slid down to her waist and he drew her close against him and, quite without warning, she was no longer cool. No longer in control.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Doing?’ she breathed.

  ‘You know exactly what I mean. Or do I have to show you?’ Breathing was quite suddenly impossible as she caught the full impact of a mouth ready to take hers by storm.

  ‘Well?’ he murmured.

  She had been an idiot to think that she could outplay someone like Joshua Kent. He wasn’t some ordinary small-town man of her own age but an experienced man of the world. And she wasn’t a child who could expect to flirt and run. There was only one way he would interpret her behaviour.

  She had been a fool and had to move, now, quickly, before it was too late. But her legs wouldn’t obey her, or perhaps they knew better than she did what she wanted. Her tongue nervously moistened her lips as his head began to descend and she closed her eyes to obliterate the sight of his eyes, smoky with desire, to hide from the knowledge that she no longer cared about his motives.

  It was a tap at the door that saved her. For a desperate moment she thought he was going to ignore it as they remained perfectly still, arched together, his lips an inch from hers. Then he straightened, steadying her momentarily.

  ‘I forgot the first rule of the game, Holly.’ His voice was ragged, his smile a little crooked. ‘If you’re going to make love to a woman before dinner, it’s wise to cook it yourself.’

  When he was certain that she could stand, he moved unhurriedly across the room and opened the door. A young waiter from the hotel smiled at her and began to serve their meal. Joshua held a chair for her and she sank into it gratefully, hardly able to support herself.

  ‘This looks wonderful,’ she said, when she had regained sufficient control of her vocal cords to speak. Her fork fell through the pastry and she gratefully used the food to avoid eye contact, although she didn’t taste a thing. He had as good as admitted that he had intended to seduce her and she had been more than happy to help him.

  Joshua himself made no attempt to draw her into conversation. He, too, seemed reluctant to break the silence.

  The waiter returned after a short while to clear their plates and serve the trout. She sipped nervously at the wine, keeping her eyes focused on the distant view.

  After the waiter had gone, Holly picked up her fork, but then she realised that Joshua hadn’t moved, was sitting perfectly still watching her.

  She reluctantly forced herself to meet his eyes. ‘What is it?’

  ‘You won’t do that again unless you mean it, will you, Holly? It’s liable to get you into trouble.’

  Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment and something more. Anger, too. There was a dangerous sparkle in her eyes as she said, ‘I think I can safely promise that. If you will do the same.’

  The split-second flash of surprise that crossed his face gave her a small measure of satisfaction. But when he replied his voice was devoid of emotion.

  ‘You have my assurance, Holly, that the next time I kiss you you’ll be left in no doubt of my meaning.’ He picked up a fork and gestured with it. ‘Now eat your food; it’s getting cold.’ She did as she was bid, hardly able to take in what he was saying as he crisply explained that he had arranged temporary insurance for her to drive Mary’s car. ‘They’ll send a form for you to sign in a day or two. I swore you’d never had an accident,’ he said and looked up. ‘I hope I’m right.’

  She suddenly realised that he was expecting some response. ‘I’ve never had an accident, although it would be difficult to tell from the state of my car. It’s held together by rust and willpower.’

  ‘In that case you might find this one rather exciting.’ He looked thoughtful, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. ‘Perhaps you should trade it in for something a little less exacting.’

  She bristled. She might not have had a great deal of experience driving, but she was perfectly competent. ‘I think I should be the judge of that.’

  He shook his head. ‘Do you always do the opposite of what you’re advised?’

  ‘It depends upon the advice,’ she retorted swiftly.

  ‘Then in future I’ll be extremely cautious about offering any, but if you need any help just give me a call.’

  ‘I thought you’d be rushing back to London.’

  ‘Not for a day or two. I’ve a few things to clear up here.’

  There it was again, the sharp jab of suspicion. He had seen through her stupid attempt at sophisticated flirtation and crushed it without raising a sweat. In fact, he was too clever by half. But she had a good idea what he was planning to ‘clear up’ and she had every intention of thwarting him.

  ‘Would you like something else?’ he said, interrupting the flow of her thoughts.

  She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. That was delicious.’

  ‘Any time,’ he said, casually.

  ‘No. Next time it must be my treat. I’ll ask you to Highfield for a meal as soon as I’ve found out how everything works.’ Reminding him that she would stay for as long as she wished. ‘Although I can’t pretend t
o compete with this sort of food.’

  If she hoped to needle him, she did not succeed.

  ‘I look forward to it. Coffee, then, and a brandy?’ He smiled. ‘No, I remember, you don’t like brandy. Come and have a look in the cupboard. There must be something you’d like.’

  ‘No.’ She made a move to leave. She needed to get away from Joshua Kent, get herself back on an even keel. When he was in the same room she found it difficult to think straight. ‘Thank you for a lovely meal, but I must go.’

  ‘Must you?’ She was certain he was teasing her now.

  ‘It’s been a long day.’

  ‘Then I’ll take you home.’

  ‘There’s no need to bother yourself, Joshua. Your chauffeur is quite up to the task.’

  ‘My chauffeur has gone home to his wife. Besides, I reserve the pleasure of driving beautiful young women home for myself.’

  He held the tiny jacket for her and managed somehow, without touching her at all, to make her feel as if she was being stroked. Or maybe, she thought, it was all in her head. Maybe she just wanted to be stroked by him. If that was the case, he had won the first round by a country mile and she should retreat while she could. And surrender? Offer him such an easy a victory? She owed it to Mary to find out just what was going on.

  Fifteen minutes later the car drew up outside the long, low house and Joshua escorted her to the door and unlocked it for her. ‘Thank you, Joshua.’

  ‘I’d ask you what you were thanking me for, if I were sure you knew.’ He stepped back. ‘I’ll ring you tomorrow to organise a time to get the probate papers signed.’

  ‘Fine, but don’t leave it too late. I have some shopping to do.’ He raised his hand and turned away. ‘Joshua!’ He turned back.

  ‘Yes?’

  She stretched out her hand. ‘I think those are my keys.’

  He looked down at the bunch of keys in his hand. ‘So they are. Force of habit.’ He put the keys into the palm of her hand, wrapped her fingers around them and held them there for a moment. ‘Keep them safe.’