Blogger Bundle Volume VI: SB Sarah Selects Books That Rock Her Socks

by Kathleen O'Reilly

  And they did look good, Rhianna thought as she gave herself a last critical once-over before the party. She was just turning from the mirror when her door opened abruptly and her aunt marched in.

  ‘They’re going to be a waitress short at the dinner tonight,’ she said, her eyes sweeping scornfully over Rhianna’s slim figure. ‘One of the girls is sick, so I told Mrs Seymour you’d take her place.’

  Rhianna gasped helplessly. ‘But I can’t do that. Carrie’s invited me to the dancing as a guest,’ she protested. ‘You know that. And I bought this dress specially.’

  ‘Yes, and a rare waste of money too. Good job you have it to burn.’ Miss Trewint tossed the dark button-through dress and frilled white apron she had over her arm onto Rhianna’s bed. ‘Well, you won’t be parading yourself like a trollop tonight, madam. So get changed and over to the house, and sharp about it. People will be arriving. And tie your hair back.’

  The door banged behind her. Throat tight, eyes burning, Rhianna hung the black dress back in the wardrobe and put on the navy uniform. It was a size too big, but she tied the apron more tightly round her waist to give it more shape. She dragged her hair back from her face and plaited it quickly, her fingers shaking, then changed her sandals for the low-heeled pair she wore at the café.

  The hired help, she thought bitterly, and looking just as drab as Aunt Kezia could have wished.

  Carrie met her with a look of utter consternation. ‘I don’t believe this,’ she said furiously. ‘Your aunt—my mother—what the hell are they playing at?’

  ‘Teaching me my place, I think.’ Rhianna gave her a swift hug. ‘Don’t worry about it. We can exchange above and below stairs viewpoints afterwards.’ She wanted to add, I really don’t mind, but it wasn’t true. She minded like blazes.

  It was a very long evening. Rhianna carried round trays of drinks, platters of canapés, and later stood at the dinner, helping to serve the poached salmon and carve the turkey.

  Mrs Seymour, she thought, surreptitiously easing her aching feet as she watched Moira’s lavender-clad figure floating radiantly among the guests, is certainly getting her money’s worth. That is if she actually intends to pay me.

  One of the first people she’d seen had naturally been Simon.

  ‘Good God.’ He’d looked her up and down blankly, then started to grin. ‘If it isn’t the lovely Rhianna. Bloody hell, I didn’t realise this was supposed to be fancy dress.’

  The friend accompanying him had roared with laughter, his hot brown eyes assessing Rhianna in a way she didn’t like. She’d cared for him even less when she spotted him later, adding the contents of his hip flask to the non-alcoholic punch.

  But the next time she’d seen Simon he’d been dancing with Carrie, his lips close to her ear, whispering things that had her blushing, her face radiant with a delight she couldn’t have concealed if she’d tried.

  And she wasn’t trying very hard, Rhianna thought ruefully. So much for moving on.

  During the course of the evening she’d also seen Diaz Penvarnon arrive late. She’d assumed he wasn’t coming at all. At the sight of him, she’d longed to fade back into the wall, but he hadn’t appeared to notice her, so perhaps the waitress gear had made her temporarily invisible.

  Although there was no reason why he should care if she was there as friend or servant, she reminded herself.

  Whenever he visited Penvarnon House he always spoke to her, but as if, she thought sometimes, he was taking care to be pleasant. Yet, while there’d naturally never been any repeat of that wonderful birthday dinner, he’d invariably remembered to send her a card when the anniversary came round.

  It was getting on for midnight when Simon approached her again. ‘Going to dance with me?’ he asked, bending towards her, his face flushed.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Simon, I can’t,’ she muttered. ‘I’m here to work, and Mrs Seymour’s watching me.’ She raised her voice a little. ‘Is there something I can get you, sir?’

  ‘Absolutely. Dance with me and I’ll tell you.’ He grinned at her.

  ‘Simon,’ she said. ‘This isn’t funny. Please go away.’

  ‘Poor Cinderella,’ he said. ‘But they can’t keep you slaving all night. You deserve some fun. And you can at least have some champagne to toast Carrie’s birthday, like everyone else. She’d want that.’ He paused. ‘Tell you what—I’ll get a bottle, and we’ll meet you round by the stables in ten minutes. How would that be?’

  She bit her lip. ‘Well, OK. But I can only stay a few minutes.’

  When he’d gone, Rhianna glanced round her. She probably wouldn’t be missed at this stage, she thought. No one wanted any more food, at least not until the eggs and bacon were to be served very much later on. And Aunt Kezia’s eagle eye was now superintending the clearing-up operation in the kitchen. She probably could slip out for a little while. And if she was spotted then she would have Carrie to defend her.

  Apart from the moon, there was no light in the yard. It was cooler now, too, after the heat of the house, and Rhianna hugged herself, shivering a little.

  She called softly, ‘Carrie?’

  ‘Over here.’ Simon’s voice reached her from one of the disused loose boxes.

  He was standing just inside, leaning against the wall, a dark shape among the shadows. As her eyes adjusted Rhianna realised he was alone, his tie loosened, and that he was clasping an open bottle of champagne, which he held out to her.

  ‘So,’ he said, his voice slurring a little. ‘Here we are at last. Let’s party.’

  ‘Where’s Carrie?’

  ‘Being the obedient daughter and perfect hostess.’ He said it with a laugh that was almost a sneer. ‘Where else?’

  ‘Then I should get back to being the perfect waitress,’ she said. ‘I haven’t got time to party—or not without Carrie, anyway.’

  ‘She won’t miss you. Come on, Rhianna, loosen up.’ Putting down the bottle, he pushed himself away from the wall and came over to her. ‘Neither of us is on the A list tonight, so we may as well drown our sorrows.’

  Judging by the alcohol on his breath, Simon’s troubles were already well submerged. She drew back. ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Oh, come on, sweetheart. What’s your problem?’ He looked her up and down. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t fancy me. You have done for years. I heard all about it from a girl at your school. Only I didn’t feel like following it up—then. But things—and people—change with time.’ He paused. ‘Who’d have thought it, eh? From scrawny kid to hot totty in one blink of the eye.’

  She was getting more uncomfortable by the second. ‘Simon, I have to get back—really.’ She turned towards the house. ‘People will be wondering where I am.’

  ‘But my need,’ he said thickly, ‘is much greater than theirs—believe me.’ He grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him. ‘So stay and be nice. You know you want to.’

  Caught off balance, Rhianna found herself pinned against him so closely that his state of arousal became embarrassingly evident.

  She tried to say, Stop this now—but her words were smothered by the heat of his mouth, and his hands were tugging at the buttons of her dress.

  Then from behind them, a man’s cool voice said, ‘So there you are, Simon. Everyone’s looking for you, particularly Carrie. Your friend Jimmy’s drunk and behaving rather badly.’

  And, to her horror, Rhianna realised that the voice belonged to Diaz Penvarnon. And that he was standing watching them from the doorway of the loose box, dark brows raised, and his eyes like steel.

  Simon let her go as if he’d been stung, and swung round defensively. ‘What am I supposed to do about it?’

  ‘You brought him.’ Diaz sounded bored. ‘You deal with him. He can hardly stand up, let alone walk. And go now, please,’ he added as Simon seemed prepared to argue. ‘Sorry to upset your pleasant interlude, but Carrie’s mother is getting upset.’ He paused. ‘And so is Carrie.’

  Simon shrugged almost airily. ‘You know how
it is, man.’ He glanced, grinning, at Rhianna. ‘If the offer’s on the table, you can hardly turn it down—especially when it comes so nicely packaged.’

  He set off across the yard, walking none too steadily himself.

  Dazed, Rhianna watched him go, his words beating in her brain. She thought, He’s deliberately made it sound as if this was my idea. As if I came out here to be with him—wanting—this…

  She turned to Diaz, saw the direction of his gaze, and, looking down, realised her dress was unfastened almost to the waist.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she said. Dry-mouthed, fingers shaking, she attempted to fumble the buttons back into their holes.

  ‘A little late for modesty, wouldn’t you say?’ His voice reached her harshly.

  ‘You don’t have to watch,’ she said. ‘I have to get back to work.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘You don’t. You’re finished for tonight. The only place you’re going is home to bed.’

  She said tautly, ‘Is that an order—sir?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It is.’ He paused. ‘So what was this? An extra birthday present for Carrie? Having her heart broken? Because if she’d turned up here instead of me that’s what would have happened.’

  He shook his head. ‘You of all people should know how she feels about Simon Rawlins, Rhianna. And, whatever I think of him, I know that falling in love with the right person isn’t always a given—at any age. Maybe he’s like a virus, and she’ll recover eventually, but that time is clearly not yet. So keep your predatory little hands off her precious apple cart—and that’s another order.’

  His words seemed to pelt her like stones, making her quiver under the onslaught. Because what could she say in her own defence? It wasn’t like that. How feeble and unconvincing was that?

  Besides, when Simon had grabbed her she’d been too stunned to react immediately, so she hadn’t even been fighting him off when Diaz had walked in.

  Making herself decent was no longer a priority. All that mattered was getting out of there—away from him—away from the icy condemnation in his voice for which she had no answer that he would ever believe.

  But as she went past him he caught her arm, halting her.

  The silver eyes were sombre. ‘Is this how you rate yourself—sex in an empty stable with another girl’s man? You disappoint me.’

  ‘And of course we can’t have that.’ Anger and bitterness were at war inside her, making her reckless. ‘But, as it happens, things would never have gone that far.’

  ‘You imagine you were the one in control of the situation?’ he asked derisively. ‘Not from where I was sitting, sweetheart. And a last-minute change of heart doesn’t always work with someone half-cut and looking for mischief. If I hadn’t followed you there could have been trouble.’

  She stiffened. ‘How good of you to take such an interest in an employee’s private affairs,’ she said. ‘But also quite unnecessary. I can take care of myself.’

  He said slowly, ‘Can you indeed?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Of course.’ And tried not to think of Simon’s fingers on her flesh. The pressure of his mouth.

  Diaz swung her round, pushing her against the outside wall of the stable. He put one hand on the brickwork beside her and leaned towards her, his other hand cupping her chin, his thumb rhythmically stroking the delicate line of her jaw.

  He said softly, ‘Are you quite sure of that?’

  She looked up into his eyes. They were pale as the moonlight itself, the irises very dark. They held an expression she had never encountered before—with anyone. Certainly not with Simon a few minutes ago, she thought, and realised she was frightened and excited at the same time.

  He added, ‘Prove it.’ Then bent his head and put his mouth slowly and carefully on hers, caressing her lips lightly and sensuously.

  It was not the frank lust she’d experienced just now. Nor was it passion. Or not yet, anyway. Even in her comparative innocence Rhianna recognised that.

  He was simply asking a question. Testing her quite gently, but also inexorably. This time demanding an answer.

  She’d been kissed before tonight, of course. Not often, it was true, and certainly not well. The school had thrown a leavers’ party with a disco, and several of the lads had tried their luck during the slow dances. She’d accepted those minor advances with good-humoured resignation, if not pleasure. The boys hadn’t been strangers, after all, and she hadn’t wanted to make a fuss or hurt anyone’s feelings. But she’d moved away as soon as the dance was over, making it tacitly plain there’d be no repetition.

  But this—this—was wholly different. As his kiss deepened, coaxing her lips to part for him, his hand was tracing the curve of her slender throat, lingering on the leap and flutter of her pulse, then moving down to her loosened dress to stroke the first delicate swell of her breast and linger there.

  Her reaction was instant, shocking her with its intensity. Making her aware of explicit sensations—needs—never before imagined, let alone experienced. Enticing her with the scent—the taste of him.

  She wanted, she thought as her brain reeled, to answer all his questions. To twine her arms round his neck and feel the warmth, the male hardness of him against her. To return the pressure of his lips and more. To feel his touch on her naked skin and show him she was ready to be a woman. His woman, if he so desired.

  But it seemed he did not.

  Instead he was lifting his head and stepping back, his expression guarded as he studied her.

  He said quietly, ‘I think you seriously over-estimate your resistance levels, Rhianna. Just be glad I don’t take sweets from babies, or you’d be spending the night in my bed, not your own. Which is a seriously bad idea for a great many reasons.’ He added almost harshly, ‘Now, run along, and don’t go looking for trouble with men. Because you’ll surely find it.’

  He turned and walked away, and she stayed where she was, leaning against the wall, her legs shaking too much to move.

  And at that moment a light came on, illuminating the entire yard—including the tall figure of Diaz Penvarnon crossing to the rear entrance of the house.

  Rhianna turned her head, startled, and saw the dark shape of her aunt standing at the window of the flat, looking down. She couldn’t see her face, but instinct warned she’d gone from one kind of trouble straight to another.

  Reluctantly she moved, walking slowly round the yard to the flat door and going in.

  Kezia Trewint was waiting for her in the living room, her face set, her deep-set eyes burning with anger and scorn as she looked at the girl hesitating in the doorway.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘You’ve been with him. Another Carlow woman chasing after a Penvarnon man. Just as I knew you’d be all those years ago.’

  Rhianna gasped. ‘What—what do you mean?’

  ‘I mean you—up against the stable wall with Mr Diaz. A slut—a dirty little tart—just like your mother before you.’ She drew a hoarse breath. ‘Didn’t she bring enough shame on our family? And him of all men?’

  ‘No,’ Rhianna managed. ‘It—it wasn’t like that…’

  Oh, God, she thought. This was an entirely different level of misunderstanding. This was terrible.

  ‘You think you weren’t seen sneaking off, and him following?’ Miss Trewint demanded derisively. ‘That Mrs Seymour didn’t go after him, and me with her? That we didn’t see you with our own eyes? It’s what the family have been expecting ever since you came here. Grace Carlow’s daughter, and the living image of her. Made him wonder, I dare say, what Ben Penvarnon once had, and fancy a taste of the same.’

  Her eyes rested on Rhianna’s still unfastened buttons. Her sudden laugh was vicious, grating. ‘But that’s where it’ll end. I promise you that. Because he’s not like his father. Not that one. He won’t be setting you up in some London flat and paying the bills in return for his pleasures. Now he’s used you, he’ll forget you. He can’t do otherwise. Because she might find out, and he can’t risk that.’

>   Rhianna stared at her. She felt very cold. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘What are you talking about. Who is she? And what are you saying about my mother?’

  ‘She was Ben Penvarnon’s mistress, bought and kept,’ Miss Trewint flung at her. ‘As everyone knows. And I was the one, God forgive me, who brought her into this house and put temptation in his way, flaunting herself in front of him.

  ‘“Yes, Mr Penvarnon,”’ she mimicked. ‘“No, Mr Penvarnon.” “I think Mrs Esther’s a little better today, Mr Penvarnon.”’ She drew a shuddering breath. ‘Playing sweetness and concern for the sick woman she was supposed to be tending, and all the time she was running off to meet with her wedded husband in that hut on the beach or up on the moors. And you’re proving yourself no better with his son.’

  ‘That’s a lie. And I don’t believe what you’re saying about my mother either.’ Rhianna’s chest was so tight it was difficult to breathe. ‘She was in love with Daddy. You only had to see them together to know that.’

  ‘What did she ever know about love?’ Her aunt glared at her. ‘All she knew was having her fun and wheedling all she could out of another woman’s husband. And after he was dead, and there were no more pickings to be had, she had to do something. Find some other fool to keep her.’

  Her mouth thinned. ‘And you’ll have to do the same, my lady. Don’t think you’re staying here after tonight’s goings-on. Even if I was prepared to keep you, Mrs Seymour won’t have it. Reckons you’re an insult to her sister, and that Mr Diaz must have run mad to look twice at you with what he knows.’

  ‘But nothing happened,’ Rhianna protested desperately. ‘Or not like you think, anyway,’ she added. But it could have done, said a sly voice in her head. He was the one who put a stop to it, not you, so no credit to you. And you can’t even claim it was his fault—not this time.

  But I can’t think about that, she told herself, wincing inwardly. I’ve got to forget those dark, urgent moments in his arms when nothing mattered but his mouth on mine and the touch of his hand on my skin.

  ‘A seriously bad idea for a great many reasons.’ That was what he’d said, and now she knew what he’d meant. Why he’d let her go. And why he’d do nothing to prevent her being sent away permanently. Not this time.