‘What have you been saying to him?’ Patsy turned furiously on her once Donald had driven off.
Megan frowned. ‘Saying to him …? Oh, I see,’ she nodded undertanding. ‘I haven’t said anything to him at all. It isn’t my business to tell him.’
‘I would have thought you would have enjoyed it. It would have given you your revenge.’
‘Revenge?’ Megan shook her head in puzzlement. ‘Why on earth should I want revenge on you?’
‘Because of Roddy, because he prefers me to you.’
Megan gave a choked laugh. ‘I don’t want him!’
‘Liar!’ Patsy said vehemently. ‘He told me all about you, about how you were after all the men on your ward at the hospital, about how annoyed you were because he wasn’t interested.’
‘Wasn’t—? Patsy—’
‘He still isn’t interested,’ her eyes flashed deeply blue. ‘So just keep your hands off him!’
‘Patsy—’
‘But of course, you have your eye on Mr Towers now, don’t you? Can’t you find a man of your own?’
Megan flinched from the hatred in the other girl’s face. ‘Can’t you stick with the one you’ve got?’ she retorted insultingly, realising that reasoning wasn’t going to get her anywhere with the incensed Patsy.
‘Donald?’ Patsy flushed. ‘I—He doesn’t understand.’
‘I’m not surprised! I doubt if any man would understand adultery by his wife.’
‘I haven’t committed adultery!’ Patsy was outraged. ‘Roddy and I are—friends.’
‘That isn’t a new name for it,’ Megan scorned.
‘We’re friends!’ Patsy told her fiercely. ‘Ask Roddy, he—’
‘He seems to think you’re going to be a lot more than that any day now,’ Megan took a chance on Patsy’s basic insecurity, watching the other girl’s quick frown, the flash of uncertainty in her eyes. ‘He boasted of it to me only yesterday,’ she played on Patsy’s momentary weakness. ‘He means to get you into bed with him, Patsy,’ she added gently.
‘No!’ Patsy bit her lip. ‘I—I don’t believe you. He—I—We’re just friends. Friends!’
‘I don’t buy that, Patsy, and neither will Donald if he finds out you’ve been meeting Roddy.’
Patsy’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you going to tell him?’ she asked with suspicion.
Megan shook her head. ‘I’m no blackmailer. Patsy, what possessed you to become involved with him? Donald’s a nice boy, very hardworking, and he loves you very much.’
‘I know,’ Patsy said heavily. ‘And I love him. But—It’s been so awkward, living here,’ she explained in a rush. ‘Tam had his heart attack only three weeks after the wedding, and Donald decided we should move in here to help his mum all we could. At the time I agreed that it was the only thing to do. But now—well … Tam gets restless in the night, you see, and he wanders around the cottage.’ Her face was fiery red. ‘It’s got to the stage where I daren’t let Donald touch me, just in case his father walks in.’
‘And that’s why you’ve turned to Roddy?’ It would be just like him to take advantage of such a situation!
‘I haven’t—Yes,’ Patsy sighed. ‘He—he flatters me, makes me feel good.’
‘But is he worth losing Donald?’ Megan probed gently.
‘No!’ there was genuine horror in Patsy’s eyes. ‘You’re right,’ she said heavily. ‘I’ve been behaving stupidly. But it’s never gone further than a few kisses between Roddy and myself. You do believe that?’
‘I believe it,’ Megan nodded.
‘And you won’t tell Donald?’
‘I’ve already said I won’t. But if you’re sensible you’ll stop seeing Roddy. And I’m not telling you that because I’m jealous,’ she put in hurriedly. ‘I’m really not interested in Roddy.’
Patsy frowned. ‘But he said—’
‘I can imagine what he said,’ Megan interrupted dryly. ‘Roddy likes to think he can have any girl he wants. When I made it obvious I wasn’t interested he turned nasty.’
‘But he said—’
‘Yes?’ Megan queried sharply as Patsy broke off in mid-sentence.
‘He said you were dismissed from the hospital,’ she revealed reluctantly. ‘That you were found in your room in bed with one of your patients.’
Megan gasped, her face pale. ‘He told you that?’
‘Is it true?’ Patsy sounded incredulous.
‘No!’ Megan told her vehemently. ‘Well—partly true, I suppose. But the man wasn’t an invited guest, he tried to force himself on me. Unfortunately no one believed my side of the story.’
‘So you got the sack.’
‘Asked to leave,’ Megan confirmed. She turned as she heard Jerome making his farewells to the senior Jones. ‘Now you will finish With Roddy? Promise me.’
‘I—Yes, I will.’
‘Tonight,’ she pressured as she heard Jerome’s footsteps on the gravel behind her.
‘Yes,’ Patsy nodded her head vigorously, also conscious of his approach.
Megan looked up and gave Jerome a dazzling smile. ‘Are we leaving now?’
He studied her with narrowed eyes. ‘If you’re ready …?’
Megan felt quite pleased with herself on the way back to The Towers; at least she had persuaded Patsy to stop seeing Roddy.
‘You were talking to Patsy for some time,’ Jerome remarked casually.
Her blush was almost one of guilt. ‘We were at school together,’ she said defensively.
‘Nice girl.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed warily.
‘Happily married.’
‘Yes.’ Megan frowned, wondering where all this was leading to. He hadn’t realised that Patsy was Roddy’s secret date, had he? Oh, she hoped not, not now that it was to end.
Jerome quirked one eyebrow. ‘And wanting to remain so, I presume?’
‘Yes.’ Had her reply been made too vigorously? It would seem so, by the hard look he gave her.
‘Warning you off, was she?’
‘Warning—? What do you mean?’ Oh heavens, he had realised!
He gave her a look of disgust. ‘I never thought when you eliminated Roddy and Paul from your life that there was yet another contender—and I don’t mean me.’
Megan gasped. ‘Then who—?’
‘Donald Jones!’ he said grimly.
‘Donald …?’
‘Yes, Donald! Is he the reason Roddy was so angry this morning?’ he demanded to know.
‘You have it all wrong, Jerome,’ she shook her head dazedly.
‘No, I think I finally have it all right,’ he corrected harshly, reaching past her to push open her door as they reached The Towers. ‘Get out of my sight!’ His mouth twisted. ‘You leave a bad taste in my mouth.’
‘Jerome …’ She got out of the Range Rover just before he put his foot down hard on the accelerator, her car door slamming with the force of it. She watched miserably as the vehicle screeched out of the driveway and away from the house.
Stella Mitchell came out of the lounge as Megan entered the house. ‘Oh, I thought I heard Rome,’ she tried to hide her disappointment behind her friendly smile. ‘Do you have any idea where he is?’ she asked brightly.
Megan was still dazed by Jerome’s wrong assumption. ‘I—I think he still had some checking up to do. He brought me back because I—I should be helping Mrs Reece this afternoon.’
‘Oh yes,’ Stella nodded, ‘Rome told me of the deal he’d made with you—’
‘With my brother,’ Megan corrected fiercely. ‘I had little to do with it.’
‘Oh,’ the other woman frowned. ‘Maybe I got it wrong, then. I have a terrible head for business.’
‘So do I. If you’ll excuse me, Miss Mitchell …’ Megan said pointedly, anxious to escape.
‘But of course,’ Stella smiled again. ‘I’m sorry I delayed you.’
Megan hurried away. Every time the other woman called Jerome ‘Rome’ she emphasised the difference in t
heir relationships towards him. Stella Mitchell was allowed the intimacy of his family name, whereas she was still calling him ‘Mr Towers’. Oh, how that hurt her!
She stopped with her hand outstretched to push open the kitchen door, arrested in the action by the conversation she could hear behind the door.
‘But Roddy said that Megan—’
‘Mr Roddy to you,’ Freda sternly cut in on the young maid’s chatter. ‘And I don’t want to hear what he says. Megan is a fine girl. I don’t care what Mr Roddy told you, he must have got it wrong.’
‘Then why did she leave the hospital so quickly?’ Connie asked.
‘Maybe she just didn’t like it,’ Freda dismissed abruptly. ‘I’m sure she wasn’t dismissed—and especially for the reason you’ve just said.’
‘But—’
‘Stop your chattering, Connie, and get on with your work. And I want no more gossip about Megan in my hearing. She’s a good girl, and Mr Roddy is mistaken about that man being in her bedroom.’
Megan was deathly pale. Roddy had said he would make her pay, and it seemed his vengeance had already started. She wondered how long it would take Jerome to hear this latest little slur on her character. Not long, if Roddy had anything to do with it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MEGAN was feeling very nervous the next morning as she waited for Jerome to put in an appearance. Once again he was late, and Freda had told her that this was because he had arrived late back from his work on the estate and so was breakfasting late. There was nothing for Megan to do, Jerome wouldn’t let her open the mail herself, so she sat on the sofa in front of the glowing fire, feeling more like a schoolgirl awaiting punishment in the headmaster’s office than a secretary simply waiting for her boss.
Yesterday had been a disaster from start to finish, not least being the fact that she had had to tell Paul she wouldn’t marry him. He had come round in the evening and they had gone out for a drink together. As soon as he began discussing marriage she knew she would have to put a stop to it. He had been hurt and angry, and Megan had felt awful. But better to let him down now than later.
‘Dreaming, Miss Finch?’ taunted a familiar voice.
Megan looked up from the fire and rose agilely to her feet. ‘I didn’t know what to do,’ she said lamely.
Jerome was dressed more formally than usual, the charcoal-grey suit and matching tie complemented by the snowy white shirt. He looked formidable and unapproachable, and Megan picked up her notepad with shaking fingers.
‘Didn’t Freda tell you I’d been delayed?’ He moved around the desk and sat down to begin opening the mail.
‘Yes. But I—You told me not to touch your mail.’ He had told her that her first day here, much to Megan’s annoyance. It made it seem as if he didn’t trust her.
He pinpointed her with his dark brown eyes. ‘I shall be going to London this morning for several days, so you’ll have to deal with some of the mail. Anything you can’t handle put to one side and I’ll see to it when I get back.’
Megan’s eyes were wide. ‘You’re going away?’
‘Back to London with Miss Mitchell,’ he confirmed haughtily. ‘I’ll leave my telephone number in case you need to get in touch with me.’
But would Stella Mitchell be the one to answer such a call? Did Jerome live with the other woman while he was in London? It certainly looked like it. ‘Very well,’ Megan acknowledged tautly.
‘How are the arrangements for the Christmas party going?’ he asked.
For a moment Megan looked blank. The children’s Christmas party was the last thing on her mind. ‘I—er—I called the nursery about the tree, and arranged for the caterers to provide the necessary furniture. It seems Freda likes to do the food herself.’
Jerome frowned. ‘Isn’t it a bit much for her?’
Megan shrugged. ‘That’s what I said, but she insisted. And Mrs Reece told me Freda loves doing it, that she looks forward to it each year.’
‘Oh well,’ he shrugged. ‘If that’s what she wants.’
‘I—er—I found your costume for you,’ a teasing light entered her eyes. ‘It was in the wardrobe of one of the spare bedrooms.’
‘I just can’t see myself as Father Christmas,’ he grimaced. ‘Can’t we get someone else to do it?’
‘Of course not!’ She sounded scandalised. ‘It’s traditional for the owner of The Towers to do it. The costume will need some padding out on you,’ she indicated his taut, flat stomach. ‘Old Squire Towers never needed any,’ she remembered with a smile.
‘You liked him, didn’t you?’ Jerome said softly.
‘He could be cantankerous.’ Megan hadn’t realised quite how much until Jerome had told her the reason for his dislike of him. ‘But yes, I think I did like him. I used to visit him here. Of course it was all different then, threadbare carpets and worn furniture.’
Jerome scowled. ‘The old man let Ralph Coates rob him blind,’ he muttered angrily.
‘Ralph Coates? You mean the last estate manager?’
He nodded. ‘My uncle left too much to the other man, trusted him too much. He repaid him by fiddling the books.’
‘And that’s why you sacked him?’
Mocking humour lightened Jerome’s expression. ‘Another of your grudges against me dashed to the ground?’ he taunted.
Megan flushed. ‘I didn’t realise Ralph was a thief.’
‘I’m sure you found it easier to imagine I’d dismissed him without reason. Don’t be upset, Megan,’ he drawled as she went to protest. ‘Honest dislike is a healthy thing.’
She looked down at her hands. ‘Not if it’s given unfairly.’
‘Are you saying I could be wrong about you?’ his eyes were narrowed.
Megan’s gaze was challenging. ‘Couldn’t you?’
His mouth twisted. ‘No,’ he said emphatically. ‘I’ve kissed you myself, Megan. I know the way you react, and it isn’t the reaction of a shy young virgin.’
She was well aware that she had acted like a wanton in his arms, but she had never acted that way with anyone else. ‘I didn’t say I was shy,’ she said pointedly.
‘You aren’t a virgin either!’ Jerome scorned. ‘Shall we deal with this mail,’ he added briskly. ‘I have to leave soon.’
Megan glared at him. ‘You’ve just sat there and insulted me and now you calmly propose to dictate your mail to me?’ She stood angrily to her feet. ‘Well, you can go to hell, Mr Towers! Our deal is null and void. I won’t work for you any longer!’
He moved swiftly, slamming the door shut as she opened it. He pinned her against the back of the door, towering darkly over her. ‘You really are a selfish little—’
‘That’s right,’ she choked, closing her eyes to hide her tears, biting her bottom lip to stop it trembling, ‘insult me some more! I have no way of defending myself, I just have to stand here and take that from you.’
‘You can take this too!’ He lowered his head with a groan, his lips surprisingly gentle as they parted hers.
His body lowered against her, his hardened thighs, intimate against hers, telling her better than any words how aroused he was. Megan wanted to take his kisses, wanted his arms about her, wanted to be roused to the passion that only he could kindle in her.
They were lost in a world of lovemaking, each kiss more drugging than the last, Megan’s groans of pleasure inciting Jerome to even more intimacies.
‘Your breasts,’ he moaned against her silky skin, her blouse unbuttoned to his questing fingers. ‘They’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. God, I even dreamt about you last night.’ His tongue caressed one taut nipple. ‘The things I imagined doing to you! Do you give the same pleasure to all your men?’ he wanted to know. ‘Do they get turned on just watching you walk, watching the way you move, the way the material of your blouse stretches across your wonderful breasts?’
‘Jerome, please! Don’t say things like that,’ she begged, making ineffectual movements to push him away, blushing as she tho
ught of him watching her so intimately. He gave no indication of these thoughts normally, and it was now embarrassing to know what he had been thinking all this time. ‘I don’t deliberately draw attention to myself,’ she denied.
‘You don’t need to,’ he said huskily. ‘I know the exact moment you walk into a room, can gauge your mood immediately. Right now you want to make love as badly as I do.’
‘No …’
‘Yes, Megan.’ He kissed her lightly on the lips, doing the buttons back up on her blouse. ‘Why do we always choose the study for making love?’ he queried wryly, ‘I prefer the comfort of a bed, and the added knowledge that no one is going to walk in on us.’
‘I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice,’ she said sharply.
‘Rule number one, Megan,’ he tapped her playfully on the nose, ‘I won’t delve into your past if you won’t delve into mine. Agreed?’
‘Miss Mitchell isn’t exactly your past!’
‘She will be this time tomorrow. Rule number two,’ he said seriously, ‘I don’t like to share. Stella goes out of my life and so Donald, Paul, Roddy, and any other men I don’t know about go out of yours.’
‘They aren’t in my life!’ She frowned. ‘Jerome, what are all these rules leading to?’
He eyed her mockingly, straightening his tie. ‘Never been propositioned quite so bluntly before?’ he taunted. ‘I don’t think you’ll find me ungenerous, and I’m not usually very demanding of your time—just a few hours a week, although in your case it might be different. Think you can stand the pace?’
‘The pace?’ she repeated numbly. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I want you, Megan Finch, and I mean to have you.’
She gaped at him. ‘But yesterday you told me—you said I leave a bad taste in your mouth!’
‘Mm,’ he scowled darkly. ‘Well, you haven’t been very discriminating. Did no one ever tell you not to get involved with married men? In a village this size Patsy was sure to find out about you and Donald.’
‘Mr Towers—’
‘Rome,’ he corrected huskily. ‘When I get back from London we’re going to become very close. I think you’ll find my sex-drive is more than twice a week,’ he added tauntingly.
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