by Mary Lyons
‘Well...’ she’d winked at Amber before turning to give Sally a bland smile, ‘on the whole, I think that Max is definitely more attractive nowadays. He’s still very good-looking, of course. But now that he’s become such an obviously sophisticated and successful man, he seems somehow more...er...more sexy—if you know what I mean?’
‘Oh, why didn’t I have the luck to meet him?’ Sally wailed before rushing off to spread the news of the handsome prodigal’s return.
‘Don’t say it—I know that I ought to be ashamed of myself!’ Rose had laughingly confessed to Amber when they were left alone together. ‘But it isn’t often that I manage to upstage Sally. And, although you don’t seem to be very struck by Max Warner, I really must admit—happily married woman that I am—that he definitely made me feel quite weak at the knees!’
Amber, who dearly wished that she’d taken her house deeds to David Thomas’s office instead of deciding to leave them with Rose, could only give her friend a weak, sickly smile before rapidly changing the subject.
‘Here we are.’
‘Hmm...?’ she blinked, before realising that she was standing beside her old Land Rover.
‘You really should lock your car when you leave it parked in the street like this,’ Philip told her sternly as he opened the door and put her parcels on the back seat.
‘The locks are useless—they’re all rusted away, and I can’t afford to fit any new ones,’ she explained with a brief, helpless shrug of her shoulders. ‘Thank you for that lovely, warming drink—and for carrying my shopping all this way,’ she added as he bent down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek before striding off down the street.
Settling down into the driving seat, she turned on the ignition—only to be met by complete silence. Some moments later, having tried everything she knew to try and start her vehicle, Amber gave a deep heartfelt groan before beginning to swear violently under her breath.
‘This old wreck should have been thrown on the scrap heap years ago!’
The sound of the deep voice caused Amber, for the second time that day, to give a startled shriek of fright and alarm. Quickly turning her head, she found herself facing the tall, dark-haired man who’d dominated her dreams for the past few weeks.
‘Max! What on earth are you doing here?’ Amber gasped, her face as white as a sheet as she stared glassy-eyed at the tall figure, whose perfectly tailored, black cashmere coat over a sober dark grey suit seemed more appropriate for the City of London than the small market town of Elmbridge.
‘It would appear that I am about to have the pleasure of rescuing a damsel in distress,’ he drawled coolly.
‘Not this damsel you aren’t!’ she snapped nervously.
‘Don’t be tiresome, Amber. This heap of rust clearly isn’t going anywhere. However, since I was on my way to Elmbridge Hall, I’ll be able to give you a lift home.’ He nodded towards the long black sports car parked beside the pavement a few feet away from the Land Rover.
‘Why are you doing this to me?’ she wailed, thumping her steering wheel with an angry fist.
‘Doing what?’ Max gave a harsh, sardonic bark of laughter. ‘Is it my fault that you’re driving around in an ancient vehicle, which should have gone to the great scrapyard in the sky years ago?’
‘I meant why...why here...in the middle of the High Street?’ she ground out through clenched teeth. ‘Why couldn’t you just telephone and make an appointment to see me? Like any perfectly normal, sane person?’
‘Because I became fed up with getting nothing but your damned answerphone,’ he retorted, taking no notice of her furious protests as he swiftly transferred her parcels and bags of shopping to his vehicle. ‘Jump in—and shut up!’ he added grimly, waiting with barely concealed impatience until she did as she was told.
However, Amber had no intention of obeying his last command.
‘If you rang when my answerphone was switched on,’ she said furiously as the long, low sports car snaked along the country lanes to Elmbridge Hall, ‘I can see no reason why you couldn’t leave a sensible message like everyone else.’
‘If I remember correctly, you run a boarding-house....’
‘I most certainly do not! We take in paying guests,’ she snapped before realising—with a sinking heart—that she was beginning to sound just like her mother.
‘...and I have no intention of allowing complete strangers to listen to my private phone calls,’ he told her firmly. ‘Incidentally, I don’t think much of the prissy message you’ve put on the machine. Quite frankly, Amber,’ he added, his mouth twitching with amusement, ‘you sounded like a frightened rabbit!’
‘Thank you!’ she ground out, furious at the description of her voice—and also with herself for having been so easily outmanoeuvred.
When a friend had offered her a very cheap, second-hand telephone answering system some weeks ago, it had seemed like a gift from heaven. Not only would it cope with her mother’s complete inability to take down a simple message, but she’d also hoped that it would help her to avoid any direct contact with Max. So that, when he left a message giving the date and hour of his return, she wouldn’t be taken unawares. It had never occurred to her that he would refuse to use the damn machine. Didn’t he believe in modern technology, or what?
‘That’s still no excuse for not contacting me in the normal way,’ Amber retorted bitterly. ‘There was absolutely no need to...to kidnap me like this.’
‘Kidnap? Surely I’m doing nothing more than rescuing you from an unfortunate predicament?’ he drawled smoothly before taking a hand off the wheel to punch some numbers into his car phone.
‘I didn’t need rescuing,’ she ground out through gritted teeth. ‘I could easily have sorted out the problem myself.’
‘I very much doubt it,’ Max murmured dryly, forestalling her angry retort as he picked up the phone.
‘Ah, Cruickshank—it’s Max Warner here. I want you to ring up the local garage and get them to pick up an ancient Land Rover, which has broken down in the High Street. Tell them to give it a thorough overhaul. Oh, there is just one thing,’ he added. ‘Please ask them to check the electrical wiring under the dashboard.’
‘Oh, great!’ Amber exploded at the end of his call. ‘And just what am I supposed to use for transport while my car’s being fixed?’
‘I’ll see that it’s returned to you before I leave.’
She gave a shrill, angry laugh. ‘If you think that amount of work can be done in the twinkling of an eye, you must be off your head! I’ve never heard of Mr Cruickshank, but while our local garage is fairly efficient, they can’t perform miracles!’
As the harsh, grating tones of her normally soft voice seemed to echo loudly within the confines of the car, Amber forced herself to take a deep breath and try to calm down. Shouting her head off or making cutting remarks wasn’t going to get her anywhere with this obviously hard-boiled, tough man.
‘Just what are you doing here in Elmbridge anyway?’ she asked a few moments later in a quieter tone of voice.
But, even as she said the words, Amber knew that it was a stupid question. Because, of course, she already knew the answer. However, she was surprised to find, after all the unrelenting stress of the past three weeks, that it was almost a relief to be at last facing the man who’d caused her such overwhelming fear and tension.
She was well aware that it was extremely childish to be so rude and aggressive, or to keep on quarrelling so furiously with Max. But, driven as she was by an almost overwhelming need to hurt and wound him as much as possible, it was also extraordinarily liberating to be able to release some of the long-suppressed, pent-up rage and fury at the way he’d treated her in the past.
‘Why am I here...?’ He gave a nonchalant shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘Surely you can’t have forgotten my promise to return?’
‘You’re quite right—I haven’t!’
‘In that case, you will be pleased to hear that I’m still interested in looking over yo
ur house,’ he drawled, coolly ignoring her grim snort of disbelief. ‘Particularly since I was able to see very little of the Hall when I called some weeks ago.’
‘If you’re so keen to view the house, why didn’t you make an appointment with Mr Glover?’
‘When I last visited your house, you were insisting—almost hysterically so, in fact—that Mr Glover should definitely not be involved. Do I take it that you have now changed your mind?’
‘Yes...no...I mean, it’s not a problem any more—not now that my mother knows about the sale,’ she muttered defensively.
‘I hope she wasn’t too upset?’
‘Well, she obviously isn’t thrilled about the situation,’ Amber retorted caustically before adding quickly, ‘I’m afraid there’s no question of your seeing her today. She’s in bed with a heavy cold.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. I hope she gets better soon,’ he said as they turned into the driveway leading to Elmbridge Hall. ‘Do you have any guests staying with you at the moment?’
‘No, as a matter of fact we don’t. Why do you ask?’ she demanded, turning to glare at his handsome profile with distrust and suspicion.
‘I merely wanted to be sure that I wouldn’t be causing you any trouble,’ he replied smoothly. ‘However, from what you say, it seems as if there’s no reason why you can’t give me a guided tour of the house, hmm?’
After staring at him grimly for a moment, Amber gave a heavy sigh. ‘I suppose not,’ she muttered as his car came to a halt outside the front door.
Amber knew that it was undoubtedly spineless of her to cave in, despite being quite certain that Max had no real interest in the house. But there seemed no point in continuing to defy this seemingly indomitable man. It was obvious that he was just amusing himself by playing a savage game of cat and mouse, waiting until she was in a total state of nervous exhaustion before pouncing on what he really wanted. And there was no doubt of what that would be, she told herself, suddenly feeling sick with nerves.
However, by the time Max was helping to carry her parcels into the kitchen, she’d managed to partially pull herself together—even if she was finding it difficult to stop shivering, despite the warmth of the room. It was some comfort to realise that with Lucy safely away in London, there was no chance of Max seeing the little girl. And before her daughter returned tomorrow, she’d have plenty of time in which to come up with a plan of action. Although exactly what she was going to say or do would depend on Max, of course. But after having been in such a blue funk for the past three weeks, feebly waiting like a condemned woman for the noose to tighten about her neck, it was about time she started using her brain.
It was stupid to be so frightened of this man. She might not have seen him for the past eight years, but he couldn’t have changed all that much, surely? Desperately trying to ignore the tight knot of apprehension lying like heavy lead deep in her stomach, she knew that she must try to take control of this dire situation.
But Max clearly had no intention of allowing her to gain the initiative.
‘What a charming room,’ he murmured, gazing around the warm kitchen, dominated by a massive old-fashioned oak dresser and a large, well-scrubbed pine table surrounded by comfortable old chairs. ‘In fact, I already feel so much at home, that I think I’ll stay here for a night or two.’
‘What?’
‘My dear Amber, there’s no need to sound quite so surprised,’ he drawled mockingly as she stared at him with glazed, horrified eyes. ‘You told me yourself that you frequently have paying guests.’
‘Yes...but...’
‘And, since you also told me a few moments ago that you don’t have anyone staying at the moment, I’m quite sure there must be plenty of room.’
‘No...no...you can’t possibly stay here,’ she gasped breathlessly, floundering as she tried to think of a sufficiently good excuse. ‘I mean, a single man, on his own...it really wouldn’t be at all...er...at all suitable,’ she added lamely, waving her hands helplessly in the air.
He raised a dark, sardonic eyebrow. ‘Are you telling me that you’ve never had a man staying here on his own?’
‘Well...um...’ she faltered, her voice dying away beneath the intense, mocking gaze of his clear blue eyes.
‘How sensible not to try and lie to me. Especially since you always were a shocking liar!’ he grinned.
Amber stared blindly at the tall figure calmly removing his dark overcoat, her head beginning to pound with a dull, throbbing ache as she desperately tried to cope with the situation.
It really did look as if it was only a sudden, last-minute idea of Max’s to stay here at the Hall. Could it be that he was just teasing her? Trying to pile on the pressure so that she’d weakly agree to whatever it was he wanted? If so...maybe it would be a good idea to show him around the house after all. At least it might give her an opportunity to try and persuade him to go away or stay in a local hotel.
‘OK, I’ll give you a quick guided tour of the house,’ she said grimly, moving towards the door.
However, it soon transpired that her half-formed, confused and hazy ideas for getting rid of Max hadn’t a chance of being realised that quickly. As soon as they entered the hall—and almost before she knew what was happening—he had disappeared briefly through the front door, removed an overnight case from his car, and returned to follow her reluctant figure up the wide oak staircase.
‘I...I can’t really believe that you want to stay here,’ she muttered helplessly as she showed him into a guest-room.
‘Can’t you?’ he murmured, placing his case on a nearby chair, and raising an ironic, quizzical dark eyebrow as he gazed about the room, whose delicate antique furniture, long red velvet curtains and large paintings in heavy gilt frames gave an impression of comfortable warmth and luxury.
‘No. Just as I can’t see any reason why you should want to buy this house,’ she retorted, aware that she was sounding strained and brittle as she moved quickly past him to jerkily open one of the large, mullioned windows.
‘Maybe now that my grandmother has left me her estate, I feel like settling down here in Elmbridge,’ he drawled, strolling across the carpet towards her. ‘And, since there is now no longer a house on the land, I might well need somewhere to live, hmm?’
It all sounded very reasonable, but Amber still didn’t entirely believe him. And the atmosphere between them suddenly seemed to become tense and claustrophobic.
It had been different while she’d been quarrelling with him in the car. But now, standing so close to his tall, dominant figure, she was starkly aware of the hard, almost aggressively male body beneath the expensively tailored dark suit. How could she have made the mistake of thinking that he hadn’t changed? Because this was no longer the youth of twenty-four, with his whole life stretching out before him. Now, as Max turned to gaze down at her with a formidable, enigmatic gleam in his glittering blue eyes, she suddenly realised that she was facing a fully mature and dauntingly powerful man. A man, she instinctively realised, who could prove to be very dangerous indeed.
‘If...um...if you want to look around the house, I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait while I provide lunch for my mother,’ she told him nervously.
‘Ah, yes. I was surprised when you appeared to need—in this day and age!—the protection of a chaperon,’ he drawled blandly, his eyes gleaming with unconcealed mockery. ‘After all, with your mother and daughter living in the house, I’m quite sure that your reputation must be spotless!’
How could she have ever imagined that she’d once been wildly in love with this really foul, sarcastic man? Amber asked herself wildly, trying to inch past his tall figure towards the safety of the door.
‘My mother isn’t at all well,’ she muttered, dismayed to find him moving to block her retreat.
‘And your daughter...?’ he enquired silkily. But when she didn’t reply, remaining stubbornly silent as she glared defiantly up at him, the atmosphere in the bedroom suddenly became tense and
very frightening. His mouth tightened ominously, a muscle beating in his jaw as his eyes became hard chips of blue ice.
‘Don’t even think of trying to play games with me, Amber!’ The harsh, grating anger in his voice cracked like a whiplash in the quiet, still room as his hands came down on her slim shoulders; the strong fingers tightened like cruel talons in her soft flesh, shaking her roughly as though she were a rag doll.
‘Let me go!’ she cried, gasping with pain as she desperately tried to escape his vicelike grip.
‘Only when you understand that it’s pointless to defy me!’ he snarled, his voice heavy with menace. ‘I want to see my daughter.’
‘You can’t...’ she gasped, prevented from saying any more as she found herself trapped within a fierce, iron-like embrace, roughly forced against his hard body, a hand firmly gripping her chin and forcing her head up towards him. She had only a brief, fleeting glimpse of the raging anger in his steely blue eyes before his mouth possessed her lips with harsh, deliberate intent.
The bruising, relentless pressure seemed unending, forcing her lips apart as her helpless protest became an inaudible moan. Twisting and wriggling as she might, there seemed nothing she could do to escape. And then, the hand pressing her so firmly towards him began slowly sliding down over the curves of her body, the punishing torture of his mouth subtly changing, becoming soft and tender as his lips moved sensuously over hers, arousing a response she was helpless to control.
A treacherous warmth invaded her trembling body pressed so closely to his hard, muscular thighs, the soft seduction of his lips and tongue having a disastrous effect on her long-dormant emotions. Bemused as she was by the burning heat flooding her mind and body, she was still capable of realising that he was deliberately using his undoubted sexual expertise as a weapon, callously forcing her to acknowledge his mastery of her emotions. But it was eight long, long years since a man had kissed her like this, and trapped in a dense mist of raging desire, she was helplessly unable to prevent her body from hungrily responding to the tide of passion sweeping through her veins.