'Well, at least you seem to have done something sensible today,' he bit out scathingly.
'Thank you!' she scorned, eyes flashing deeply blue.
Beau sighed, shaking his head as he looked up at her. 'Why didn't you tell someone about them days ago? Why leave it all this time? Did you hope they were just going to go away? That the letters would just stop as suddenly as they began to arrive?'
'Yes, that's exactly what I hoped!' Jaz confirmed forcefully, moving back to stand before the fire.
He gave an impatient sigh. 'That isn't usually the way it works with these types of things. You—'
'I thought you said you had no experience of them?' Jaz cut in accusingly.
'I haven't. Not personally,' he conceded hardly. 'But I once did a documentary special and interviewed several people who do, from the sending as well as receiving end. And all the evidence pointed towards the fact that the people who send these types of letters get their enjoyment from watching the recipient squirm.'
She felt herself pale. 'Then they aren't being disappointed, are they?'
Beau gave her a considering look. 'That really depends how you look at it,' he said slowly. 'Obviously you've received the letters, because they were actually posted through your door, but, speaking as an outsider, I would say there has been very little public reaction from you to those letters. I certainly didn't know anything about them,' he added hardly.
Jaz's cheeks flushed. 'What was I supposed to do— run out into the street thumping my chest and wailing at the unfairness of it all?'
His mouth twisted ruefully. 'Not as far as I'm concerned, no,' he assured her dryly. 'But to the person responsible for the letters? It would probably be a more satisfying reaction than the nothing you have given them so far.' He nodded.
She gave a pained frown. 'Do you really think so?'
'Don't you?'
She hadn't really thought about it, had been so intent on hiding the existence of those letters, and her response to them, that she hadn't really given the sender's reaction too much consideration.
But now that she did, she realized that Beau's comment was probably a fair one. Maybe that was the reason the letters had suddenly increased to two in one day? Maybe if she reacted—
What was she thinking? The person who had sent those letters to her was vicious and nasty, if not mentally unbalanced, and she had no intention of giving them the satisfaction of showing any response whatsoever!
'Maybe,' she conceded tightly. 'But I have no intention of doing so,' she assured him determinedly.
'Good for you.' Beau gave a tight smile. 'But in the meantime, do you think those letters are going to stop?'
She shrugged. 'Probably not.' Not until she either stopped seeing Beau or he left the village, that is!
'Do you have any idea what triggered them off in the first place?'
Jaz gave him a sharp look; was this man truly able to read her mind, or was she just so awful at hiding her thoughts?
'Jaz, when did the first letter arrive?' he prompted harshly.
She shook her head. 'I don't see—'
'When, Jaz?' he pushed determinedly.
Her mouth tightened. 'The day I began working for you—that was when the first one arrived, if you must know!'
His gaze narrowed. 'Oh, I think that I must,' he muttered icily. 'I remember how you looked that evening,' he rasped. 'I remember your making a joke about it, telling me you were pale because you had just received the electricity bill.'
She grimaced. 'I had just received the electricity bill, but the first of those letters was also amongst my post that day,' she continued before he could pounce again. 'And no—before you ask!—there was no stamp, and no date stamp, either; the letter had been hand-delivered to be opened with my other post of the day,' she added scornfully.
'Which means that the person delivering the letter must have known you wouldn't be there,' Beau murmured slowly.
'It seems a fair assumption to make, yes,' Jaz confirmed flatly.
She had been through all of this in her own mind so many times over the last week or so, had drawn exactly the same conclusion Beau was now doing—but still with no answer as to why anyone would be this vindictive to her.
'The day you began working for me, hmm?' he mused frowningly. 'What did that letter say?' he prompted shrewdly.
Jaz sat down with a sigh, knowing this man wasn't going anywhere until he had answers to all the questions he wanted to ask, and that she might as well at least be comfortable while she answered them. '' 'Like mother, like daughter",' she supplied flatly.
Beau's eyes narrowed to silver slits as he looked at her. 'Implying what?' he finally bit out abruptly.
She shrugged, her smile completely humourless. 'Implying that I'm like my mother, of course.'
'In what way?' he persued tersely.
'What way do you think?' she snapped, her eyes flashing deeply blue.
'I have no idea.' Beau shook his head. 'Okay, so your mother left your father and you when you were seventeen; she's far from the first woman to do so. And it wasn't as if you were still a baby or anything like that—'
'She left with someone else's husband!' Jaz cut in impatiently.
'Ah.' He nodded. 'You've never told me that before.'
'Why should I have done?' Jaz snapped accusingly.
'No particular reason.' He shrugged. 'But she's far from the first woman to do that, either,' he grimaced incomprehensively.
'In Aberton, she is,' Jaz assured him scathingly, the scandal having rocked the village for months, years, after her mother and her lover had died.
Beau gave her a rueful smile. 'Yes, I can believe that,' he continued briskly, 'the person sending these anonymous letters obviously believes that in some way you have become like your mother?'
'That would appear to be the case, yes.' She avoided his gaze, not wanting to see the scorn he must feel towards her mother, and possibly to her too...
'Because you're not only working for me, but we've had a couple of meals together, too?' he murmured slowly.
'I think so, yes.'
Beau shook his head, frowning. 'But I'm not married.'
'I know.' She frowned her own confusion. 'But that doesn't seem to make a whole lot of difference.'
'No,' he agreed slowly. 'But who could it possibly matter to even if I were?'
'I don't know!' Jaz almost shouted with frustration.
'I'm sorry I have to ask these things, Jaz,' Beau told her ruefully. 'But if we're ever to discover who this person is, then we have to try and find out from what angle they are coming from.'
There seemed to be an awful lot of 'we's' in that statement...
'Has this ever happened before?' Beau grimaced. 'When you've been involved with anyone else,' he enlightened dryly as she looked puzzled.
,Jaz glared at him. 'I've never been "involved" with anyone else—and, as you are only too well aware, I'm not involved with you, either,' she reminded him impatiently.
'This person obviously disagrees with you. Hmm, it's interesting.' He nodded distractedly.
Jaz's eyes widened indignantly. 'I don't find it in the least "interesting",' she told him furiously. 'Painful. Infuriating. Even disturbing. But never interesting!'
Beau gave her a sympathetic smile. 'That's because you aren't looking at this in the same way I am.'
As she had no idea how he was 'looking' at it, the answer to that was probably no!
She drew in a deep breath. 'Beau, could we just forget all about that for the moment while you tell me exactly why you came here to see me this evening?' She certainly hadn't got the impression from him earlier that they would be seeing each other again "today. Or was it just a question of those magnets again, attracting him against his will...?
He stood up abruptly, his face set in grim lines as he walked over to stare down into the fire, his scar shown in stark relief.
'Beau...?' she prompted uncertainly as he di
dn't answer her but continued to look into the fire.
He drew in a sharp breath, straightened suddenly to turn and look at her, his hands thrust into the pockets of his denims. 'I came here this evening to tell you that I intend leaving Aberton on Saturday,' he bit out tautly.
Jaz's eyes widened in shock, and she could literally feel the colour leaving her cheeks as she continued to look at him, hoping he wasn't waiting for her to make some sort of comment on his statement—because at the moment her tongue felt as if it were stuck to the roof of her mouth, making speech impossible!
This was her worst nightmare come true—and so much quicker than even she could have imagined.
'Jaz?'
She swallowed hard. 'What about the house?'
'What about it?' he grimaced. 'Could you stand to live in it?'
'Me?' she gasped. 'No! But—'
'Neither can I,' he rasped. 'I'll sell it, eventually.' He shrugged. 'The house really isn't that important at the moment.'
Then what was? She didn't—
'Jaz, when I leave on Saturday I want you to come with me,' he bit out abruptly.
Jaz stared at him, totally beyond speech now. Totally beyond anything!
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
'Why?' she prompted huskily.
Jaz had continued to stare at Beau for long, searching minutes, desperately trying to make sense of a conversation that had gone from discussing the anonymous poisonous letters she had been receiving, to Beau saying he wanted her to go with him when he left the village on Saturday.
The one thing that stood out crystal clear was that Beau hadn't told her why he wanted her to go with him. Was it just to help her get away from the village? Or was it something else...?
Beau frowned his impatience. 'Isn't it obvious?'
Jaz shook her head, her hair swinging silkily about her shoulders. 'Not to me, no.'
He shot her an irritated glance. 'Is this the usual way you respond to someone asking you to marry them?' he snapped.
Now she really was stunned. Beau was asking her to marry him?
Yes, that was exactly what he was doing, she acknowledged dazedly as she saw the look of grim determination on his face. But it was exactly that look that ensured she didn't jump up and throw her arms about him as she cried ecstatically: Yes, yes, yes! Because it wasn't the look of a man in love asking the woman he loved to be his wife and spend the rest of her life with him.
'I don't know,' she breathed softly. 'No one has ever asked me to marry them before. Why are you asking?'
He made an impatient movement. 'Jaz, think about it. You aren't coping here—'
'What?' she snapped as she stood up abruptly, her eyes glittering angrily as all her defences took over. 'How dare you come here and feel sorry for me?' she accused furiously. 'How dare you insult me by telling me you want me to marry you? In such a—an uninterested way! Am I supposed to be grateful for a proposal like that?'
He stiffened, his face set in cold mockery as he reached up and touched the livid scar on his cheek. 'I wasn't aware that I was insulting you,' he rasped scathingly. 'You're obviously drowning here, I'm leaving, I thought you might welcome the chance to get away yourself, and marrying me would be a way for you to do that. But if I was wrong—'
'You most definitely were!' Jaz bit out icily. 'I told you before, Beau, I'm not some charity case in need—' her voice broke with emotion '—in need,' she continued determinedly, 'of your pity!' She drew in a ragged breath, more hurt than she had ever believed possible. To be offered paradise in one hand, and know that it was only pity in the other!
He gave a derisive shake of his head. 'That isn't the way it looks from where I'm standing!'
'Then please leave,' she choked huskily. 'Just go,' she pleaded as he would have spoken again.
He moved stiffly to the door, pausing there. 'I'm leaving on Saturday afternoon,' he bit out abruptly. 'If you should change your mind—'
'I won't,' she assured him flatly, forcing herself to hold her head up high so that she met his gaze full on.
'I'll see that the outstanding money in your account is returned to you before you leave on Saturday.' Even if it would put her back in debt with the bank. She would rather starve herself for a month than be indebted to this man!
'Don't bother,' he scorned. 'I'm not going to miss it!'
'Neither am I,' she assured him defiantly.
He raised skeptical dark brows. 'As you wish,' he bit out tersely. 'I really don't care any more,' he told her icily before letting himself out of the cottage.
It was the fact that he didn't 'care' anything for her at all, besides pity, that had made her turn down his offer of marriage!
It was the fact that she 'cared' too much that she dropped down weakly into the armchair as soon as he had left, the tears falling hotly down her cheeks.
'Jaz, how lovely to see you!' Madelaine greeted warmly as the housekeeper ushered her guest into the sitting room. 'As you can see, dear Beau has decided to join us for tea too.' She gestured towards the man already occupying one of the armchairs.
Jaz had come to a halt in the doorway as soon as she'd spotted him in the room, eyeing him suspiciously as she'd hesitated about what to do next; it simply hadn't occurred to her that she and Madelaine wouldn't be having tea alone together. Beau's presence certainly complicated things.
'Jaz,' he greeted guardedly as he stood up, looking very handsome in black trousers, and a blue cashmere sweater over a paler blue shirt, his bland expression making it difficult to tell whether he was as surprised by her presence here as she was by his.
'Beau,' she returned stiffly.
'Do sit down, Jaz, darling,' Madelaine encouraged warmly, patting the seat next to her on the sofa.
Jaz hesitated, not happy with this situation at all. She hadn't seen Beau since that evening when he had told her he thought she should marry him—an offer she still felt no qualms about refusing!
But if he had kept to his original plan, then he was leaving tomorrow, and after that she would never see him again...
'Yes, do sit down, Jaz,' he encouraged dryly. 'If only so that I can do so too!'
She shot him a resentful glare, her cheeks feeling warm as she moved to sit on the edge of the sofa next to Madelaine.
Madelaine chuckled teasingly. 'You two have had a falling-out, haven't you?' She gave a reproving shake of her head. 'Everyone in the village is talking about it,' she added lightly.
Beau scowled. 'Then "everyone in the village" should learn to mind their own business!'
Madelaine smiled. 'But other people's business is always so much more interesting.'
'Do you think so?' Beau raised dark brows. 'Personally, I think they're a pretty uninspiring lot.'
'Is that why you're leaving?' Jaz shot at him chal-lengingly.
'Leaving...?' Madelaine echoed huskily, staring at Beau, her face having gone slightly pale. 'But—I had no idea.' She looked at him accusingly.
'No, it isn't public knowledge yet,' he drawled, giving Jaz a look that clearly said Thanks!
'But Jaz knows,' Madelaine pointed out.
'Well...yes,' Beau confirmed lightly. 'But, then, she would, wouldn't she?'
'Why would she?' Madelaine frowned.
He shrugged. 'Because she's going with me.'
Jaz looked at him sharply. He knew she wasn't going anywhere with him, tomorrow or any other time. What was he doing? More to the point, did he have any idea what he was doing?
'What?' Madelaine gasped, standing up to look down at Jaz accusingly. 'That is so sly,' she said harshly. 'And you never said a word. Not a single word! How could you, Jaz? How could you?'
'How could she what, Madelaine?' Beau was the one to answer her mildly.
Jaz made a silencing gesture in his direction; he was just making this so much more difficult than it already was. 'Beau, please—'
'Madelaine?' he prompted hardly, his attention all focused on the other woman.
The beautiful face
was twisted with anger, the eyes glittering furiously, the slender hands clenched into fists. 'You are so like your mother, Jaz,' Madelaine bit out scathingly. 'Not only do you look like her—'
'I do not!' Jaz cut in compulsively.
'Oh yes, you do.' The older woman's dislike was written clearly in her face as she looked down at Jaz. 'She had that wild beauty too. Untamed. Gypsyish.' Her top lip curled back disdainfully. 'Charles told me that comparing the two of us was like being with fire and ice.' And there was no doubt which one Madelaine thought the more attractive.
Jaz stared at the other woman, her emotions a mixture of distaste, sadness and pity.
Distaste, because after talking with Beau the other night, about what possible motive someone could have for writing those horrible letters to her, Jaz had painfully worked out by a process of elimination that there was only one person who really fitted that description; Madelaine, the woman whose husband, Charles, had left her to be with Janie, Jaz's mother.
Sadness, because all these years she had really thought Madelaine had been her friend.
And pity, because Madelaine must have harboured this resentment and pain all these years, to the point that her emotions had been warped by it.
Jaz's eyes widened as she looked at Beau, seeing her own emotions reflected on his face as he looked at the other woman, realizing at that moment that his conversation just now hadn't been innocently provocative at all, that somehow Beau had worked out exactly who it was who was sending her those horrible letters—and decided to confront Madelaine with it before he left!
The fact that Jaz had come here today with the same intention was incredible.
Beau stood up now, carefully placing himself between Jaz and Madelaine, it seemed. 'Why did you do it, Madelaine?' he prompted gruffly. 'What possible harm has Jaz ever done to you?'
'Harm?' the older woman echoed scathingly. 'Her mother stole my husband, took him away from me!' Her pointed chin rose challengingly. 'Charles would have eventually returned to me once he realized what sort of woman Janie Logan was,' she said with conviction. 'But instead he was killed in a car accident. With her mother!' Blue eyes glittered with hatred as she looked at Jaz.
The Vengance Affair Page 14