Wicked Pleasures

by Helen Dickson

  Grant had never intended falling in love with her. He had simply needed her then, that was all. She had never loved Paul, so he had never had the power to hurt her. But she did love Grant—with all of her heart—and he did.

  ‘Have you always been so persistent?’ she said, in answer to his question.

  ‘Mother always did tell me it was one of my most unattractive qualities.’

  Aware that someone had entered the room, Adeline looked beyond him to the doorway. It was Lettie. Adeline’s eyes became riveted on the lovely brunette clad in an emerald-green gown. The two of them looked at each other and slow smiles dawned across their faces. Lettie’s voice was a whisper filled with pure delight.

  ‘Adeline! I’m so glad you’re here at last.’

  As Lettie approached with her arms outstretched, Adeline noted the dramatic changes in her and wondered a little apprehensively if the changes went too deep to be put right. But the ties of friendship pulled them together, and suddenly they were flinging their arms around one another in fierce hugs, laughing joyously.

  ‘Oh, Adeline, you look wonderful. I’ve missed you so much.’ Lettie laughingly hugged her again.

  ‘I’ve missed you, too.’

  ‘How long are you staying?’

  ‘Until the day after Boxing Day.’

  ‘Then I shall do my best to try and persuade you to stay longer. Oh, I’m so glad Grant invited you.’

  Adeline stiffened. ‘Grant?’ She looked to where he had moved, to lounge gracefully against the window. His hands were thrust deep into his trouser pockets, his jacket open and pushed back to reveal the pristine whiteness of his shirt. He was looking at her with that half mocking expression which she knew so well. ‘You invited us?’

  ‘Of course he did.’ Lettie was quick to answer for her brother. ‘Didn’t you, Grant?’

  ‘But I—I thought your mother…’

  ‘Mother asked you on Grant’s behalf. Is that not so, Grant?’

  He nodded, not in the least embarrassed at being found out. ‘I was in France, remember? I wrote to Mother, asking her to invite you and your father.’

  ‘Oh! I—I didn’t know.’ Suddenly Adeline’s heart almost burst with happiness. Grant did care for her after all. He had wanted her here.

  ‘While you were in London, as you know, Mother and Horace saw a good deal of each other and became close. When I heard of his sudden illness it got me thinking. I thought that perhaps they would like to spend Christmas together—providing your father had recovered and was fit enough to travel.’

  ‘Oh—I see,’ Adeline managed, in a relatively normal voice, her heart sinking. And she did see. And the knowing took away the pleasure she had in seeing him again.

  She felt as if he had slapped her. He was treating her as if there had been nothing between them—as if they had never shared the intense passion between a man and a woman. It was incredible to her that those arms had held her, that those hands had caressed her, that those firm lips had kissed her. Feeling absolutely wretched, deeply hurt and disappointed, she hoped she did not show her feelings. She should have guessed, of course. He hadn’t been thinking of her at all.

  Sensing the distress Adeline was doing her best to conceal, Lettie glowered at her brother, wondering how he could be so insensitive. ‘Grant, stop being obnoxious.’ Slipping an arm through Adeline’s, she smiled at her reassuringly. ‘Ignore him, Adeline. He’s teasing you. You don’t mind if I steal her away, do you, Grant? It’s ages since we saw each other, and I’m so looking forward to catching up.’

  ‘Go ahead. Adeline hasn’t been shown her room. You can do the honours, Lettie.’

  With a blizzard raging outside, dinner was a merry meal. The children were in bed, and everyone was chatting away amicably, with no awkward silences. The topic of conversation varied from the agricultural depression and Captain Webb’s swimming of the channel in August, to the state of the nation. The Major—Grant’s paternal uncle—sat across from them. He was a tall, elderly man with a shock of irongrey hair, who had never married and had fought in the Crimea. Always one to appreciate an audience, he regaled them with tales of his travels throughout Europe and beyond, and told them humorous stories about his time in the army.

  Seated beside Lettie, who looked relaxed and was more like her old self, Adeline felt a lightening of her spirits—but she was hurt by Grant’s seeming uninterest.

  She would have been surprised to know that she rarely left his sights as he watched her covertly from beneath his lashes.

  For the remainder of the evening Grant was the perfect host. Every time Adeline glanced his way he was conversing with another aunt or uncle, her father or his mother, and all the time her heart cried out for him to look at her, for him to come and speak to her, to see the same look in his eyes as when he had made love to her.

  Chapter Twelve

  The following morning, which was two days before Christmas Eve, the blizzard had passed, and after breakfast the men, equipped with spades, began shovelling snow from the drive.

  Holly bushes, bright with red berries, and trees, their branches heavy with snow, stood sharp against the azure blue sky, and the sun shone on the glittering white unblemished landscape. A fox had made his way across the garden, leaving his paw marks in the snow. The air was sharp and crystal-clear, and everything was still. Beyond the gardens, men, women and children from the village and round about whooped and whirled in exhilaration on skates on the frozen lake.

  Wearing colourful scarves and gloves, and hats pulled well down over their ears to combat the elements, adults and children with happy voices dragged toboggans and floundered comically in the deep snow, stepping out of the house into the magical wonderland and making their way to a hill beyond the gardens. Roland and Grant were to supervise the sledging, while Lettie and Adeline, serviceably attired in warm coats, woollen skirts and stout leather boots, preferred to stay closer to the house to build a snowman.

  With much hilarity, and enjoying themselves enormously, together they began to roll the bottom half of the body. The larger it got the heavier it was to push and, panting with the effort, they turned round and braced their backs against it, laughing helplessly as they pushed it along. Suddenly Roland appeared, and immediately engaged Lettie in a snowball fight, shrieking and dashing about like children. He playfully shoved some snow down Lettie’s neck, and when she was thoroughly wet they disappeared into the house to change.

  Grant watched the antics from his vantage point on the hill, never having imagined he would see Adeline doing such a mundane thing as building a snowman and playing in the snow. When he saw Lettie and Roland disappear, unable to resist the temptation to go and help her finish the snowman, he went to join her, leaving Anna and David with the children.

  When she saw him a smile appeared, lighting up her whole face, and Grant melted beneath the heat of that smile.

  With hands on hips he inspected the ball of snow gravely, looking the picture of vastly amused male superiority. ‘It looks like a man’s job to me,’ he said.

  Adeline gasped, her expression one of mock offence. ‘Don’t you dare let Lettie hear you say that. She’d make you retract every word.’

  ‘I don’t doubt that for one second. But I still say you need a man to roll that thing. Permit me.’ And without further ado he rolled the ball of snow a bit farther.

  Laughing as she watched him flounder beneath the strain, plunking her hands on her hips, Adeline gave him a look of comic disapproval. ‘There you are, you see—it’s not as easy as you think.’

  Determined to roll it a bit farther, tensing his muscles, Grant rolled it until Adeline shouted that it was quite large enough, thank you. Standing back and slapping the snow off his leather gloves with a triumphant grin, he looked admiringly at the huge ball of snow and said, ‘There you are. It’s much improved, don’t you agree?’

  When Adeline replied her voice was soft and extremely sweet. ‘Yes, Grant, I’m sure you’re right,’ she said with uncharac
teristic meekness—and the next thing Grant knew her hands had hit him squarely on the chest, catching him completely by surprise, sending him flying backwards to land spread-eagled in a snowdrift.

  ‘Why, you little hellion,’ he cried with a bark of laughter as he struggled to get out of the drift.

  ‘That,’ she told him, joining in his laughter, ‘was for arrogantly assuming I am incapable of building my own snowman. Pride comes before a fall, don’t forget. Come on, Grant—get up.’

  ‘My pride is in ruins,’ he laughed. Getting to his feet and brushing the snow off his caped coat and hair, he knew he wasn’t immune to the absolute exhilaration that came from being out of doors surrounded by snow—which he’d always hated before—while Adeline, her hair tucked beneath a multicoloured tam-o’-shanter, cheeks the colour of her bright red scarf, was a breathtaking marvel, with her huge jewel-bright green eyes and wide, laughing mouth.

  ‘It’s dangerous to be within my range,’ she shouted, moulding a snowball. ‘I have an excellent aim.’

  ‘That does it. You’ll pay for that,’ Grant shouted as the snowball hit him on the side of his head. Reaching down with both hands and scooping up some snow of his own, he squeezed it into a ball, grinning broadly, and with a dangerous gleam in his eyes purposefully advanced on her.

  ‘Oh, no—no, you don’t,’ she cried, beginning to back away, choking on her laughter. ‘Stop it, Grant—you mustn’t. Let’s be sensible about this. I don’t like snowballs—I’m warning you…’

  Suddenly Grant lunged and landed a direct hit on her shoulder. With a shriek, bent on revenge, she made another snowball.

  ‘You devil. You’re mad. I’ll get you back. I promise to snowball you senseless if you don’t stop.’ And, so saying, she flung it at him before whirling and making a dash for it.

  ‘And I’ll teach you the folly of daring to provoke me,’ Grant shouted after her, scooping up more snow and giving chase.

  Encumbered by her skirts and the deep snow, when Grant tackled her Adeline pitched forward with a screech, landing face down in the snow with Grant on top of her.

  ‘Help!’ she cried. ‘Help me up.’

  Grant shifted his weight and got up. Rolling onto her back and laughing helplessly as Grant bore down on her once more, wiping the snow from her face, she scrambled to her feet, begging for mercy and holding her hands in front of her to defend herself from the threatening snowball. But he showed no mercy as he began pelting her with more snow, which only made her laugh harder. It was impossible not to respond to this man as his masculine magnetism dominated the scene. A curious sharp thrill ran through her as the force between them seemed to explode.

  Determined to get her own back, and not to go down without a fight, her face shining, convulsed with glee and excitement, she impetuously joined in. They became like a couple of children, cavorting about and shattering the quiet with their laughter, until they were thoroughly spent and covered in snow. Reluctant to return to the house and end this pleasant interlude, they turned their attention to the more serious business of finishing the snowman. It was a poor effort, but the lump of snow with its funny hat, Adeline’s scarf tied around its neck and a bent carrot for its nose made the children laugh hilariously.

  A quiet but happy band of children and adults slowly made their way back to the house to partake of hot mince pies and toasted crumpets deep in hot butter before a log fire roaring in the grate.

  Later there was a progressive round of children’s games which required a great deal of frolicking, popping in and out of rooms and hiding behind curtains and chairs, then hunting the thimble and Blind Man’s Buff, in which both children and young adults participated—the adults leaving off to chastise a child that was becoming too boisterous, or to pick up one that had fallen, becoming tearful and needing comfort. They finished off with something quieter—conjuring tricks, performed by a remarkably talented David.

  After breakfast the following morning, Lettie and Adeline, carrying skates and with linked arms, headed for the lake which, unlike the previous day, was deserted. It was surrounded by beech and oak, and the berries on the rowan glowed a deep orange-red. It was still cold, but the temperature had risen significantly overnight and already snow was dripping off the trees. The lake where the Leighton children had spent many a happy hour larking about in boats was large and teeming with fish. It was shallow around the edge, but shelved quickly towards the centre, where there were deep and dangerous undercurrents.

  Adeline and Lettie spent a pleasant half-hour skating on the ice—keeping to the edge since they were unsure as to how thick it was in the middle now the thaw had set in. Adeline was not as accomplished a skater as Lettie, who laughed at her nervousness, but it was great fun—even though Adeline spent most of her time either hanging onto Lettie or down on her behind. At such times she was grateful to her wad of petticoats, which lessened the pain but did little for her humiliation.

  It was when they stepped off the ice to recover their breath that they were approached by a man. They had been so wrapped up in their fun and frolics they hadn’t seen him approach.

  ‘You seem to be enjoying yourself, Lettie.’

  Something of the voice penetrated the two young women’s initial fear and turned it to ice-cold horror. The voice was that of Jack Cunningham. Together they spun round to stare into two glacial pale blue eyes. Adeline looked at him and froze, feeling a chill colder than the air that came off the lake.

  Lettie was stunned by Jack’s sudden appearance, and the way he looked—and, hardened as she felt towards him, she could not repress a gasp of horror. He was barely recognisable. His usual elegance had vanished, and with his shapeless trousers and an overcoat which had seen better days he looked more like a man who had fallen on hard times and sunk to the very edge of the criminal world.

  But it was his face that shocked both girls the most and held their attention. His skin was pasty beneath the dark stubble of his chin, his cheeks sunken and his eyes hollow. His sudden harsh laugh made them jump.

  ‘What’s the matter, Lettie? Are you having trouble recognising me? I have no difficulty knowing you. You are still the same murdering bitch.’

  His mocking tone reawakened all Lettie’s anger against him. ‘Don’t worry, Jack, I recognise you. Though I must confess you are somewhat altered. Who would guess that the rich and arrogant Jack Cunningham would ever be brought so low? The police have you under investigation, I believe, on the grounds that your premises are used for immoral purposes—and not before time.’

  ‘A complaint has been lodged against me, and as you damned well know the complainant was your brother,’ he growled.

  ‘And this time the police couldn’t be bribed,’ Lettie retorted scornfully. ‘I know Grant went above their heads and used such powerful influence that the Home Office insisted on a strict investigation. I thought you had been arrested.’

  ‘They couldn’t catch me.’

  ‘So you are on the run from the law.’

  ‘Exactly.’ As his words came pouring out his features grew ugly, contorted with anger and a wild hatred. ‘You have made a fool of me—you and your brother. I won’t go down before I’ve paid back the bastard who informed on me and the bitch who got rid of my child. I’ve been here for days, watching and waiting for this moment. I intend to savour every second of it.’

  Lettie’s voice was cold and disdainful. ‘Come to your senses, Jack. You are out of your mind. Have you thought what the consequences of such action might be?’

  ‘What does that matter to me now? I’ve lost everything else—everything I’ve worked for has been stripped from me—and it’s you—you I blame.’

  ‘And Grant? Are you going to hurt him too?’

  Jack’s eyes glittered like ice. The minute the police had entered the Phoenix Club he had known with absolute certainty that his comfortable life was at an end, destroyed by the power of Grant Leighton, stripped of everything that was of value. Nothing remained of the prestige and pleasur
e-seeking that had marked his existence since he had left the ranks of the working classes.

  Raw emotion had robbed him of any kind of reason, any kind of judgement. He wanted to make them suffer physically with his own hands, until they were too helpless to ask for mercy. His eyes narrowed and gleamed with a murderous light. ‘I’m not going to hurt him. I’m going to kill him. As for you, I could break your neck.’

  His eyes were intent on Lettie’s, and she could see it was no idle threat.

  Adeline felt tension coiling in the air around them, invisible but potent. The shock of Jack’s appearance had worn off, and she appraised their situation. They were on the opposite side of the lake from the house, and there was no hope of raising attention. She had to believe that Jack would bluster and threaten and let them go, but the merciless way he was looking at Lettie and his tightly clenched fists told her he intended to harm her.

  ‘Lettie, go—get away,’ she urged frantically, with no thought to her own safety. ‘Can’t you see why he’s come here?’

  When Jack reached out to grab Lettie’s arm she backed away and, spinning round, took to the ice. She began skating for all she was worth in the direction of the house, not thinking he would follow, or that instead of keeping to the outer limits of the lake, hoping to cut her off, he would head straight across the middle, with a roar of furious frustration.

  Not having moved, with her heart in her mouth, Adeline watched in horror as the scene began to unfold before her eyes. Seeing Lettie disappear round a curve in the lake, she wasn’t aware of the moment when Jack vanished. One minute he was there and then he wasn’t. Horrorstruck, she stared at the empty lake stretching out before her, knowing full well what had happened. The ice had broken and Jack had gone through. In desperation she stared around for help. All she saw was a frozen white winter land—no movement, no help.