Red-Hot Lover

by Sarah Holland

  They talked for some time and Jared was delighted to hear she’d done well. But when she put the phone down she remembered only the worried note in his voice and knew it was because of Susie, Gareth and the house in Rhossana Bay.

  Next day she was still worrying about it. So she rang Susie’s London flat to see if they were back yet.

  ‘Yes, we got back last night.’ Susie yawned sleepily. ‘I’m jet lagged to death and my new husband is being a bit grumpy.’

  ‘No, I’m not!’ yelled Gareth in the background.

  Susie giggled. ‘Husbands! Honestly—what can you do with them?’

  Clara’s heart ached with sadness, knowing Jared might never marry her, that she might never have the husband she wanted and loved. But she checked the feelings. She wasn’t going to be driven to envy her friend’s happiness. She was happy for Susie. If a little sad sometimes for herself.

  ‘Did you have a super-romantic time?’ she asked lovingly.

  ‘Super-dreamy. But we don’t have time to dwell on it. I’m up to my ears in unpacking and repacking. Gareth wants to move to Wales right away. We’re driving down to Rhossana Bay this afternoon.’

  It was the last thing Clara wanted to hear.

  After a great deal of thought, she decided not to disturb Jared with the news. It would only upset him. And there was nothing he could do about it. Rhossana Bay was now Gareth and Susie’s home town and that was that. When Jared called that night she told him just that Gareth and Susie were back and would be moving to Rhossana Bay as soon as possible. She also promised that she would not, under any circumstances, visit the little seaside town without Jared’s knowledge or consent.

  She broke that promise within forty-eight hours.

  ‘Miss Clara!’ Mrs Harrison’s voice sailed up the stairs on Monday morning. ‘Telephone for you! Shall I transfer it to your bedroom?’

  ‘Yes, please! Number seven!’ Clara put her body lotion down, tugged on a silk robe and padded barefoot to the bed as the extension rang. She snatched it up, thinking it would be Jared because he was expected home tonight. ‘Hello…?’

  ‘Miss Maye?’

  The unfamiliar voice made her tense. ‘Speaking…’

  ‘Owain Llewellyn, here. I don’t know if you remember me, but—’

  ‘Of course I remember you.’ Her voice was unsteady. A sudden premonition made her skin flush hot, then icy cold. ‘How are you? What can I do for you?’

  ‘I’m afraid this isn’t a social call, Miss Maye, much as I would prefer it to be. I have bad news.’ His gruff Welsh voice alarmed her. ‘There’s been an accident…’

  ‘Susie!’ Clara sank breathless onto the bed, groping for calm as her stomach plummeted. ‘She’s not dead! Please tell me she’s—’

  ‘She’s still alive.’

  ‘Oh, thank God!’

  ‘But she’s in a coma.’

  ‘Oh, no…no…’ she whispered, as she put her hand to her mouth.

  ‘Apparently she decided to take a stroll along the cliffs behind the Manor. She’s a city girl. She lost her footing, slipped and fell down the cliff and into the sea.’

  ‘How badly is she hurt?’

  ‘Quite badly—she’s fractured her skull.’

  ‘Oh, my God…’ She was whispering like a broken record.

  ‘Her injuries aren’t as bad as they could have been. A fall like that would have killed most people. It’s because she’s so fit, see. The doctors believe she rolled with the fall and the strength of her muscles protected most of her bones.’

  ‘All those aerobics classes!’ Clara laughed tearfully, and realised she was in a state of shock as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

  ‘At any rate—the coma is serious and we need your help. Gareth is with her now. The doctors say it’ll help if people she loves talk to her. Apparently people can hear things even though they’re in a coma. Gareth insisted I rang you. He believes the combination of the two of you will help keep her alive and maybe even wake her up eventually.’

  Clara didn’t hesitate. ‘Where is she?’

  He gave her the address of the hospital and she told him she’d drive down directly. As soon as she put the phone down she picked it up again and rang San Francisco.

  But Jared was working late into the night, flying over the Napa Valley with the MD of his vineyard, Blackheath Californian Wines. With the best will in the world nobody could get a message to him.

  Clara knew he’d be pole-axed when he discovered that not only had she gone to Wales but also that Susie was in danger.

  She left a message which would not alarm him in front of his staff. He knew her well enough to know it was urgent. Then she rang Mitch to tell him she was leaving town.

  ‘Oh, poor Susie!’ Mitch was saddened by the news. ‘Why do these things always happen to the nicest people? Life’s so unfair.’

  Clara couldn’t agree more.

  Summoning the Harrisons, she explained the situation, giving Mrs Harrison strict instructions to tell Jared where she’d gone, why she’d gone and how he could contact her direct.

  Then she went upstairs, packed a large suitcase and left for Susie, for Wales, for Rhossana.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SUSIE was alone in a glass room. Broken and battered, she lay swathed in bandages around her head, arm and both her legs. Nurses watched her constantly, both inside the glass room and outside, sitting on a central podium from which they could see everything.

  Clara burst into tears as soon as she saw her. Hearing about the accident was one thing. The reality was quite another. Sobbing, she walked to the bed where Gareth sat in a desperate vigil.

  ‘Thank God you’re here.’ Gareth was ashen-faced. A very different man from the smiling young groom of two weeks ago. ‘I couldn’t think of anyone else who might be able to help. My own family have been wonderful, of course, but they barely know Susie and the doctors don’t believe she’ll respond to them. But I know she’ll respond to you.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Clara sank onto the chair beside him. Staring at Susie, she flinched at the face, half-hidden by bandages. Her mouth was cut, bruised and swollen. ‘Has there been any change in her?’

  ‘Nothing. No response at all.’

  ‘And her injuries?’

  ‘A fractured collarbone. Two broken ribs. Three broken fingers. A broken arm. A broken leg…’ The list went on to include lesions and cuts.

  Trying not to sound as shaken as she felt, Clara said, ‘And the doctors say we should just talk to her?’

  ‘That’s it. Just keep on talking. One day she might hear us and wake up.’ His face crumpled and he started to cry. Clara put her arm around him and held him until the crying subsided.

  Gently, she said, ‘Why don’t you take a break? The nurses tell me there’s a coffee machine in the waiting room, and they sell sandwiches at the shop. I’ll take over until you feel stronger.’

  ‘What if she dies while I’m away?’

  Her blood ran cold. ‘I won’t let her die. Believe me—I need her just as much as you do.’

  With a trembling smile he went out to take his break. Clara linked her fingers with the hand of Susie’s that was not damaged. It was warm and limp. She started to talk. Time slipped by. Gareth returned, much stronger and able to talk with her. Night fell. Midnight came and went. Still they talked.

  Clara took a break at three a.m. She’d had no sleep since Sunday night. It was now Tuesday morning and she was so tired she could barely think, kept bumping into things. But a tuna sandwich and a coffee made her feel much better. She asked at Reception if there’d been a telephone call from Jared, but there hadn’t. Worried and upset, she considered ringing London to find out if Mrs H had heard from him. The payphone at the hospital took credit cards. But it was three-thirty a.m. by that time, and too late to ring. Returning to the glass room, she took up her vigil with Gareth.

  ‘Still here?’ A voice said from the doorway at eight in the morning.

  Exhausted, Clara turned red
eyes to see Owain Llewellyn. He looked for a second as Jared had described him: gone was the old man from the wedding and in his place stood a powerful silhouette of a man with dazzling grey eyes and an air of charismatic strength. Then he stepped closer. Suddenly he was silver-haired and sixty again, but the illusion had been strong enough to let Clara see how very attractive he had once been—and still was for a man of his age.

  ‘Grandpa…’ Gareth rubbed tired eyes. ‘It’s not working. We’ve talked all night but—’

  ‘Don’t expect miracles,’ Owain said gently. ‘And don’t push yourself too hard. Look at you. I bet you haven’t eaten or slept since the accident.’

  Gareth looked vague. ‘I had a sandwich yesterday.’

  ‘Well, you won’t do Susie any good by exhausting yourself—either of you. I’ve come to make sure you get proper food and rest. Gareth—you’re to go home at once. The same goes for you, Miss Maye. A room has been made up for you at the Manor. I want—’

  ‘No.’ She got unsteadily to her feet, wilting now with lack of sleep but determined to be loyal to Jared. ‘I’ll be staying at a hotel. Not at the Manor.’

  ‘May I ask which hotel—so I can keep you informed about Susie?’

  ‘I haven’t booked it yet. I’ll go and do that now.’

  ‘But it’s the height of the holiday season! You’ll be lucky to get a room between here and Cardiff!’

  He was right. Clara spent an hour on the payphone, trying to get a room with no success. Every hotel, bed and breakfast and even the local inns were full for miles around. The tourist board couldn’t come up with a solution and neither could Clara.

  On the edge of tears with hysteria and exhaustion, Clara realised she had no option but to go to the Manor. Her nerves were close to breaking point. Sticking to her diet had already depleted her energy levels, to say nothing of her blood sugar. And poor old faithful Harrison was in a terrible state after a difficult night on the waiting room couch in his chauffeur’s uniform, now crumpled and unsightly.

  With a heavy heart Clara swallowed her pride and tried to forget her fear about how Jared would feel when he found out—and accepted the room at the Manor.

  A crumbling old mansion, it stood close to the cliffs with the sea glittering witch-green behind its sloping Welsh walls. Yellowing paint peeled on every wooden surface.

  ‘Looks a bit like a ghost house to me,’ commented Harrison. ‘You sure it’s the right place?’

  ‘It said Rhossana Manor on the gates.’

  As they stopped by the front door it opened and Gareth came out. Harrison brought the cases from the boot while Clara went to the steps.

  ‘Your rooms have been made up,’ Gareth told them with a heavy yawn and quick ruffle of his untidy hair. ‘I’ll show you where to go. Excuse the mess. This place is in a terrible state.’

  They followed him into the house in fascinated silence.

  A musty smell immediately overwhelmed them.

  Dust sheets still covered some of the furniture in the hall. The whole place echoed with their footsteps and voices.

  Shocked, Clara said, ‘I thought you moved in a few days ago? Is the whole house like this?’

  ‘No, several rooms have been refurbished. Four of the bedrooms, three of the bathrooms, the dining and drawing rooms…’

  ‘How many rooms are there in all?’

  ‘About forty.’ He smiled as he went up the stairs. ‘It’s been like this for ages, you know. Thirty years, to be precise. Boarded up, covered in dust—that’s why Grandpa wanted us to have it. He’d already secretly started renovating it but Susie and I tied the knot before he could complete it.’

  Clara walked up the stairs behind him, incredulous that anyone could board up a house like this for thirty years. Layers of dust were on the family portraits which lined the uncarpeted stairs.

  ‘Yes, thirty years since anyone lived here,’ Gareth mused as they went down a cavernous corridor, footsteps echoing on the scrappy wooden floorboards. There were signs of work in progress, too—a box filled with rolls of wallpaper, paste pots and paint pots and the scent of fresh varnish. ‘Grandpa just shut the whole place up long before I was born. Nobody’s lived here since. Nobody’s even visited the place.’

  ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘I’ve asked a million times. But Grandpa just looks sad and refuses to talk about it. The funny thing is, no one else will discuss it either.’

  ‘What do you mean—no one else?’

  ‘No one in the family. None of the villagers. They all get that same sad look in their eyes, though, so I’m sure they know what the story is.’ He laughed again. ‘Quite an intriguing little mystery, really. The abandoned Manor of Rhossana Bay.’

  Clara knew it had something to do with Jared. She longed to find out more but clearly would have to wait for Jared himself to tell her. He’d never forgive her if she tried to pry behind his back and she wouldn’t blame him. So instead she asked, ‘Did you and Susie know it would be like this when you moved in?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Grandpa explained it all to us at the reception. He said he wanted the Manor to be completely redeemed—whatever that means. He said we could make any changes we liked and he’d foot the bill. He had some theory about a young pair of newlyweds in love. Said it would fill the house with laughter and sunlight—dispel the dark memories.’

  Clara shivered. Jared had so many of his own…

  ‘This is your room, Clara.’ Pushing open a door, he motioned her inside. ‘The housekeeper tells me there are fresh towels in the bathroom and a kettle with tea and coffee for you to use in the bedroom.’

  ‘Thank you. It’s lovely.’ She smiled with relief at the brightly painted bedroom, brand-new silk wallpaper on the walls in a delicious shade of lemon. An inviting four-poster bed dominated the room, reminding her of home, only this one was white whereas Jared’s bed was dark wood, and the fat lemon duvet looked like heaven to her tired eyes.

  ‘When you wake up, just go down to the dining room. Fourth on the left downstairs along the main corridor. The housekeeper will have left a cooked breakfast on the hot plates. Just help yourself and feel free to ring the hospital, too.’

  As soon as she was alone she stopped smiling and stared around her. She asked herself what on earth was going on there. No wonder Jared had gone slowly berserk the closer this marriage came. The Manor was in a terrible state of disrepair, and to discover it had been boarded up for nearly thirty years was just incredible. But why thirty years? Jared had left Rhossana when he was seventeen. That put the date of his departure twenty years ago. Not thirty.

  Exhaustion hit her in sudden waves and she realised she was too tired even to think. Closing the thick lemon silk curtains, she undressed and slid into bed. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  When she woke she took a bath in silent luxury and told herself she must not even consider indulging in a cooked breakfast. She was so hungry. And the weather had changed while she slept. Wind whistled round the house now, rattling the doors and windows as it blew in from the sea.

  She arrived downstairs in a pale blue woollen dress to find Harrison was already eating in the dining room. Silver trays of eggs, kidneys, mushrooms, sausages and fried bread sat on the mahogany table. Clara’s mouth watered. She kept Rachel firmly in her mind and refused to be tempted.

  ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘Mr Gareth’s been at the hospital for three hours,’ Harrison told her. ‘There’s no change in Miss Susie’s condition, though. She’s stable but still unconscious.’

  Clara sighed. ‘I’d better ring London, see if there’s any news from Mr Blackheath.’

  She was just about to go back to the hall to use the phone when she heard the chopper. Heart pounding, she raced to the French windows. The jet-black helicopter was unmistakable against stark grey skies. ‘BLACKHEATH’ was written along the tail in gold letters, the company logo emblazoned in red beside it.

  ‘Jared!’ she called excitedly, and flung
open the doors, rushing out into the half-mown gardens as the chopper hovered, looking for a place to land. Waisthigh grass spun in dizzy circles, flattening as the helicopter moved in to land. It shifted closer to the house on a flat piece of newly mown grass.

  The black door flashed open. Jared stepped out, every inch the multi-millionaire tycoon in a black three-piece suit. The wind ruffled his hair. It tossed the black jacket back from his powerful chest. He ran towards Clara, head bent as the helicopter took off again and flew away. They collided in each other’s arms.

  ‘I came as soon as I heard,’ he said against her cheek. ‘How is she?’

  ‘Just terrible.’ Clara’s voice cracked as she drew back to look at him, hair blowing like a blonde storm around her lovely face. ‘I burst into tears as soon as I saw her. Bandages everywhere, wires attached to her…and she just lies there. Doesn’t move, doesn’t speak…’

  ‘I rang the hospital on my way here. They said she was stable. I guess that could mean just about anything.’

  ‘They didn’t tell me you rang, and I asked more than once.’

  ‘You had enough on your plate,’ he said deeply. ‘I didn’t want to worry you. I also didn’t want to tear you from Susie’s bedside just to talk to me on the phone.’

  ‘But I was frantic with worry!’

  ‘Well, never mind. I’m here now. And I’ll do everything I can to help. I’ll take you to and from the hospital, sit and talk to Susie with you—in fact, I won’t leave Wales until Susie’s woken up again.’

  Groaning with relief, she laid her head on his strong shoulder. His hand caressed her tousled hair and she felt safe, so safe after the chaos of the last twenty-four hours. Jared smelled of fresh sea air, of aftershave and clean skin. The sea breeze blew strongly across them as the storm built.

  ‘What made you stay here?’ Jared asked above her head, and his voice was edged with darkness.

  Tensing, she said, ‘Honestly darling—I tried every hotel in the district but they were all full. It’s the holiday season.’