A Seductive Revenge

by Kim Lawrence

  She pulled back her hand when her fingers encountered slightly tacky paint. ‘What a waste, teddy,’ she breathed. ‘He ought to be an artist,’ she concluded admiringly.

  ‘An interesting thought.’

  Flora started violently and spun around. One arm braced against the doorjamb, Josh was standing there as large as life and twice as exciting; he was watching her. His powerful body blocked the entrance, or exit, depending on how you looked at it, completely. Flora was thinking exit in a big way and had been from the instant she’d heard his voice.

  ‘I…I didn’t know you…’ she stuttered. ‘What are you still doing here? Do you know what time it is?’ Her heart was hammering so loudly he must hear it in the small silent room. Amidst the conflicting emotions his fixed stare was communicating, one remained constant: hunger—raw hunger! It sent neat toe-curling electricity surging through her tense frame and tied her stomach muscles into tortuous knots.

  ‘I had nearly finished the job so I came back after Liam went to bed,’ he explained. ‘It’s easier to work without distractions.’ His lips curled in a thin, self-derisive smile.

  Flora frantically tried to decipher this cryptic utterance. Does he mean I’m a distraction, and if he does am I a pleasant one…? Or were distractions by definition nasty? Panic had set in in a big way and her poor, beleaguered brain wasn’t up to sorting out this sticky question.

  ‘I’m sorry if I got in the way yesterday.’ Flora listened to her meek little girl voice in exasperation. Why not just apologise for breathing and have done with it?

  ‘Are you?’ he ground out. Abruptly he lowered his smouldering eyes from hers and dragged a hand through his already tousled dark hair; the gesture was intensely weary. ‘Brought back a friend—strange, I didn’t have you pegged as a fluffy-toy sort of girl.’

  Awkwardly Flora stopped clasping the teddy to her bosom; as a protective device he was pretty useless anyhow. ‘I bought it for Liam,’ she said, holding the toy out towards him. ‘I just thought…’ She gave an offhand shrug. ‘I hope you don’t mind…’

  ‘Why should I mind?’ He took the bear from her nervous clasp and placed him on the middle rung of a step-ladder. ‘Liam will love it. I’ve put the spare paint pots in the shed,’ he told her prosaically.

  The dangerous undercurrents that had had her on a knife’s edge of anticipation were absent from his voice. A silly self-destructive part of her came close to regretting this. ‘Is this what you had in mind?’ he enquired, glancing casually at his handiwork.

  ‘No,’ she replied bluntly. ‘My mind couldn’t have come up with anything half as creative, it’s incredible,’ she confessed ruefully. ‘You’re obviously very talented!’

  Josh watched as she slowly performed an admiring three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn, pausing occasionally to chuckle spontaneously over some witty little detail.

  He wasn’t just talented but original too. Her face alight with enthusiasm, she turned back to Josh. ‘Have you ever considered doing anything like this for a living?’ she enquired tentatively. ‘Not necessarily just murals…pictures and things.’

  ‘My family wouldn’t consider that a proper job for a grown man.’

  Flora frowned disapprovingly. ‘My father didn’t think criminal law was a proper job for a woman,’ she recalled drily. He’d sung the praises of house conveyancing to her on many an occasion; anything was preferable in her parents’ eyes to their only child mingling with the criminal classes. ‘But it didn’t stop me.’ She stopped, aware that her words might well have come over a bit self-congratulatory. ‘Not that the two cases are similar, of course…’ She hastened to assure him she could see his dilemma. ‘I mean, obviously I didn’t have a child to support.’

  ‘Actually my family have been a lot of help in that direction.’ Josh sent a silent apology to his nearest and dearest for creating the illusion they were a load of ignorant oafs. ‘And I have imposed upon them shamelessly—once, that is,’ he conceded drily, ‘I got past the stage when I had to prove I could do everything a mother could only better, with one hand tied behind my back for good measure. I think they call it overcompensation,’ he concluded.

  His flippant words obviously covered what had been a hard time. If she contemplated for too long the poignant picture in her head of a bereaved and hurting Josh bringing up a baby all alone she’d be in floods of completely uncharacteristic tears.

  Anyone would think she’d never encountered a hard luck story in her life; as it was her heart felt as if an iron fist were slowly squeezing the life from it. What was it about this man that turned her all squidgy and sentimental…and, yes, protective? He was big and bold enough to get by without her misplaced maternal instincts. But then there was nothing remotely maternal about the way Josh Prentice made her feel, she acknowledged unwillingly.

  ‘How is Liam?’

  ‘Asleep, I hope. As we all should be…I’m on the rosta for milking in the morning, which according to my watch isn’t very long away…’

  Flora noticed for the first time the faint bluish smudges under his eyes. ‘Early mornings like that would kill me.’

  ‘I got used to “Liam” hours some time ago and I’ve never needed much sleep, although I must admit…’ He glanced once more at his watch.

  His restlessness suddenly made sense; he wanted to be going and he hadn’t bargained on a lovesick female giving him career advice in the wee hours. She was being incredibly thick—the man had chosen to sacrifice his sleep in order to avoid her. That did kind of hint that he didn’t want her company.

  ‘You want paying…of course. Will a cheque do?’ She froze; her entire nervous system went into shock mode. Her eyes slowly widened in horror. Lovesick! Of course! It’s taken you long enough! a small mocking voice in her skull informed her.

  ‘Is anything wrong?’

  Flora forced her mouth into a stiff smile. She shook her head. ‘No, nothing.’ If you discounted discovering you’d fallen in love for the first time. ‘I just thought for a minute I’d lost my handbag, but I left it downstairs.’ His cue to precede her down the narrow stairs—frustratingly he didn’t move. ‘Will a cheque do?’

  ‘Cheque…?’ Sleep deprivation seemed to be fuddling his normal mental dexterity. His eyes were moving in a distracted manner over her tense figure.

  ‘You’ve finished the job,’ she pointed out.

  ‘I don’t want your money,’ he announced in a bewilderingly belligerent manner.

  ‘What? Oh, it’s not my money really,’ she assured him earnestly. ‘Claire will reimburse me.’ Actually she’d decided the nursery make-over would be a nice thank-you for her friend, who had come up with the offer of this convenient bolt-hole in her hour of need.

  His jawline still stayed steely and inflexible despite her assurances. ‘No.’

  Flora’s exasperation reached new heights. When she thought of all the nice, easy, manageable men she might have fallen for she could have wept. No, I had to fall for this stupid, stubborn, incomprehensible man who doesn’t even like me! Nice one, Flora!

  ‘What’s your problem?’ she enquired spikily.

  ‘I don’t have a problem. I enjoyed doing this…’ His expansive gesture took in the entire room. ‘It was therapeutic.’

  Flora wasn’t sure she believed this unlikely claim. Therapy implied relaxation and he didn’t look like a man who was relaxed; in fact he looked almost as strung out as she felt.

  ‘Well, some people might think getting paid for something you enjoy is what it’s all about. I enjoy what I do, but I have no problem with the pay cheque at the end of the month.’

  ‘Shall we just call it the start of a whole new career and leave it at that?’

  Tears of frustration formed in her eyes and she blinked them back. ‘No, we won’t!’ she cried, bringing her shoeless foot down hard on the boarded floor. ‘Silly, misplaced pride won’t buy Liam new shoes,’ she reminded him angrily. ‘It’s not charity, you earned it…’ she glanced in the direction of his ha
ndwork ‘…and more.’

  ‘I’m not taking money off you, so the subject’s closed.’

  ‘You’re so obstinate!’ she breathed. ‘But I can’t accept your generosity, it’s not…not appropriate.’

  ‘I’m not being generous!’ he growled. One angry, spontaneous stride brought him to her side.

  They stood chin to chin or, rather, chin to chest; Flora lifted her head to rectify this situation. His physical presence, the sheer magnetism of the man was the most exciting and intimidating thing she’d encountered in her life. She felt burningly hot and teeth-chatteringly cold simultaneously, a situation which probably broke all known laws of science, but then the way she felt about him broke all laws of logic so why not? Giddily she met his seething grey eyes; they were filled with a depth of smouldering anger that she couldn’t understand.

  ‘Do you really want to know what I’m like?’ His deep voice reverberated with disgust. His chest was heaving as he drew in air in great gulping breaths. ‘Shall I tell you…?’ he challenged.

  Flora didn’t respond—she couldn’t. His grip on her shoulders made her wince, but it was the only thing keeping her upright and had been since her knees had responded to the musky masculine scent of him and stopped offering her shaking body any support at all.

  The sound of the phone sliced through the stark silence that followed. Josh’s eyes went automatically to the mobile clipped on his belt.

  ‘It must be mine, I left it downstairs.’

  ‘Are you going to answer it?’ he asked tersely.

  ‘I should…’ she admitted quietly. The anticlimax was extreme.

  He stood to one side and she shot past him.

  At some point during the conversation he had come into the room; Flora wasn’t sure when that was. She looked up in surprise when he came over and took the dead phone from her limp grasp.

  ‘What’s happened?’ His eyes assessed her blank, bruised-looking expression.

  ‘My father’s dead,’ Flora explained, her brow furrowing in confusion because he couldn’t be…how could he be? ‘It happened this evening; he had a heart attack.’ She raised her eyes to his face. ‘Isn’t this the part where you say you’re very sorry?’ The numbness was complete; it encased her like a strait-jacket of ice.

  Josh didn’t express his sorrow, but his eyes were warmly compassionate. He’d stopped confusing what he felt for the father with what he felt for the daughter. In fact he’d already come to the conclusion that he couldn’t destroy the father if that meant hurting this young woman. Which meant what…? Josh thought he knew, but he wasn’t ready yet to face the answer.

  ‘Sit down,’ he suggested.

  She shook her head and began to pace the room, lifting a distracted hand to her blonde head every so often. ‘He’d lost everything, his status, his job. They weren’t going to strike him off the register, but he’d lost the respect and trust of his patients so what was the point carrying on? That’s what he said,’ she told him dully. ‘What’s that?’ she mumbled as he thrust a glass into her hand.

  ‘Brandy.’

  ‘It’s Claire’s.’

  ‘I don’t think she’ll mind,’ he encouraged softly.

  Flora screwed up her nose and shuddered as the alcohol hit her taste buds, but dutifully she swallowed.

  ‘Apparently it started in a pretty benign sort of way after my mother died.’ Her eyes were closed when she spoke. ‘Tranquillisers, that sort of thing.’ Josh didn’t think she was even talking to him in particular—she was just talking.

  ‘I don’t think he even realised he was hooked, but she did, the new secretary.’ She lifted bitter blue eyes to his face. ‘She tried to blackmail him into supplying her and her friends with drugs. He said that was when he realised how low he’d sunk.’ Angrily she brushed the tears from her face. ‘He went to the police and confessed, only she had been there before him. She was determined to take him down with her, you see. The court threw out the charges because there wasn’t enough proof. Of course there wasn’t enough proof—Dad wasn’t a drug dealer, he was a sad, lonely man!’ she cried. ‘The damage had been done though; the press had latched onto the story.’

  Her eyes suddenly opened; they blazed with self-condemnation. ‘If I’d spent less time building up my career and more… If I’d been there when he needed me…it wouldn’t…! He was lost without Mum. I don’t ever want to do that,’ she told him wildly, ‘love someone so much I can’t function without them.’ She gave a wild hiccough. ‘At least there wouldn’t have been a chance of that with Paul.’ Her face crumbled as the tears began to fall in earnest.

  Josh took the glass from her hand before it was dropped to the floor and pushed her down into a convenient chair. He laid a soothing hand to the back of her head and drew it towards him.

  Flora stayed with her head pressed against his stomach, her arms looped around his waist, until the violent outburst abated. Finally she lifted her head, sniffing and dabbing her blotchy face with the back of her hand.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘No need, my shoulder is well known for bawling purposes, or, in this case—’ he pressed a hand to his flat midriff ‘—my belly.’

  ‘I have to go back to London.’

  Visibly the threads of her self-control knitted smoothly together. It was almost as though the distraught young woman of moments before had never existed, he marvelled. For the first time since he’d met her she bore some resemblance to the ice-cool woman who’d treated the media circus with mild contempt.

  ‘You should get some rest first.’

  She shook her head dismissively. ‘I need to make…’ Josh saw her throat muscles spasm ‘…I need to make arrangements, and I mean need,’ she told him fiercely. If you were doing something practical you couldn’t think—thinking was painful. She gave a brisk smile; she wanted to dispel any fears he might be harbouring that she was going to start leaning on him either physically or any other way!

  ‘Well, you can’t drive,’ he announced flatly. She opened her mouth to deny this claim when he nodded significantly towards the open brandy bottle on the dresser.

  ‘Hell!’ She set her mouth determinedly. ‘It’ll have to be the train, then. I need a taxi to take me to Bangor.’

  ‘I’ll take you.’

  ‘You!’

  ‘Yes, me. You pack or whatever, and I’ll let Geraint know what’s happening. The express doesn’t leave until five-thirty,’ he added, when she looked impatient enough to start walking if they didn’t leave immediately.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she fretted.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  True to his word, Josh returned by the time she had flung a few personal items in an overnight bag. ‘I could drive, you know,’ she said as he led the way to his four-wheel drive. ‘I only swallowed a mouthful.’

  ‘You could also fall asleep at the wheel and cause an accident,’ he informed her sternly.

  Flora lapsed into silence as she could hardly deny this accusation. Josh didn’t attempt to make conversation or cheer her up on the way to the station and she was glad to be left alone with her own thoughts.

  Her father’s death still didn’t seem real; she’d only spoken to him last night on the telephone and for the first time since the court case he’d sounded almost optimistic about the future. As the conversation they’d had replayed in her head over and over pain lodged as a solid, inexpressible ache in her chest.

  ‘The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you, Flora.’ He’d returned to this theme several times. Nothing she’d said had been enough to ease his bitter self-recrimination.

  Josh passed her her overnight bag as she stepped into the first-class carriage. ‘I do know how you feel, you know, and it probably won’t help me saying it, but it does get easier.’

  Rigid with contemptuous anger, she rounded on him, but she bit her lip to hold back her snarling response as it hit her that he was speaking the truth—he did know how she was feeling. She ventured a small noncommittal nod.

>   ‘I didn’t pay you for my ticket!’ she exclaimed, recalling suddenly that she’d stood passively by whilst he’d paid her fare. She began scrabbling feverishly in her bag, knocking several items on the floor in the process. Tears of frustration began to form in her eyes and she angrily brushed them away. ‘I can’t find…’

  ‘Forget it!’ Arms folded across his chest, he stood there on the platform acting as if he had money to burn, and it was first class! She didn’t know what she wanted to do most: strangle him or kiss him.

  ‘Don’t do this again!’ she pleaded. ‘It’s a lovely, kind gesture but you can’t pay for me, Josh, you don’t have any…’ She bit her tactless tongue.

  ‘You can owe me,’ he offered calmly, apparently not put out by her reference to his financial circumstances. ‘Will you be coming back?’ The question was casual, but the intense expression in his eyes suggested otherwise.

  Flora’s agitated efforts abruptly ceased as she squatted there on the carriage floor. Her heightened emotions told her that something momentous had just occurred.

  ‘I…I…will you be here?’ she wondered huskily.

  Eyes still sealed with hers, he nodded slowly. ‘I will if you want me to be.’

  She gave a shuddering sigh; she instinctively knew that Josh wasn’t a man to make promises lightly. ‘I do want that,’ she told him simply. She got shakily to her feet and gripped the edge of the open window.

  Josh could see the tears in her eyes shimmering as the train drew out.

  It was a little thing perhaps—Flora didn’t know yet—but the knowledge that she’d be going back and he’d be there, waiting, somehow sustained her through the next few days. She didn’t know how much she’d been longing to return until she arrived back at the cottage almost a week later in a state of feverish anticipation.

  I’m probably making one hell of a fool of myself, she mused wryly as she tramped along the footpath that led to the farm. All the logic and common sense in the world couldn’t stop her heart racing in anticipation as the cluster of whitewashed buildings that composed Bryn Goleu came into view.