Книга - Levelling The Score

Levelling The Score
PENNY JORDAN


Penny Jordan needs no introduction as arguably the most recognisable name writing for Mills & Boon. We have celebrated her wonderful writing with a special collection, many of which for the first time in eBook format and all available right now.Simon Townsend's cool rejection of Jenna's teenage adoration had left her smarting, and determined to get her own back one day. Then, at long last, the time came for her to wreak her swift and effective revenge…She didn't realize that her little scheme was playing right into Simon's hands. He had told himself that Jenna was too young for love all those years ago. But he had decided to be patient.And now he was going to teach her that grown-up games were dangerous, and they were played for keeps!










Celebrate the legend that is bestselling author

PENNY JORDAN

Phenomenally successful author of more than two hundred books with sales of over a hundred million copies!

Penny Jordan’s novels are loved by millions of readers all around the word in many different languages. Mills & Boon are proud to have published one hundred and eighty-seven novels and novellas written by Penny Jordan, who was a reader favourite right from her very first novel through to her last.

This beautiful digital collection offers a chance to recapture the pleasure of all of Penny Jordan’s fabulous, glamorous and romantic novels for Mills & Boon.




About the Author


PENNY JORDAN is one of Mills & Boon’s most popular authors. Sadly, Penny died from cancer on 31st December 2011, aged sixty-five. She leaves an outstanding legacy, having sold over a hundred million books around the world. She wrote a total of one hundred and eighty-seven novels for Mills & Boon, including the phenomenally successful A Perfect Family, To Love, Honour & Betray, The Perfect Sinner and Power Play, which hit the Sunday Times and New York Times bestseller lists. Loved for her distinctive voice, her success was in part because she continually broke boundaries and evolved her writing to keep up with readers’ changing tastes. Publishers Weekly said about Jordan ‘Women everywhere will find pieces of themselves in Jordan’s characters’ and this perhaps explains her enduring appeal.

Although Penny was born in Preston, Lancashire and spent her childhood there, she moved to Cheshire as a teenager and continued to live there for the rest of her life. Following the death of her husband, she moved to the small traditional Cheshire market town on which she based her much-loved Crighton books.

Penny was a member and supporter of the Romantic Novelists’ Association and the Romance Writers of America—two organisations dedicated to providing support for both published and yet-to-be-published authors. Her significant contribution to women’s fiction was recognised in 2011, when the Romantic Novelists’ Association presented Penny with a Lifetime Achievement Award.




Levelling the Score

Penny Jordan

















www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CHAPTER ONE


‘JENNA, please … you’ve got to help me, there just isn’t anyone else. God, if only I’d listened to you years ago … You warned me what sort of brother I’ve got, but—’

‘Susie, come on, you’re exaggerating,’ Jenna interrupted her volatile friend. ‘Simon can’t stop you from marrying whoever you wish—nor force you into marrying someone against your will. You’re twenty-four, for God’s sake, and he is only your elder brother …’

‘He’s no brother of mine. Not any more,’ Susie responded theatrically. ‘Machiavelli would be a better name for him. God, to think I never guessed what he was up to, all the time he was shovelling that gross friend of his down my throat … go to the theatre … All the time I thought I was doing it to help Simon out with an old friend suffering from loneliness, and now I find out that Simon has been trying to marry me off to the guy.’

‘What’s he like?’ Jenna asked curiously.

Susie frowned, her blonde hair with its soft pink streaks standing up on end all round her small head. No matter how outlandish her clothes and hair-style might be, there was an unmistakable soft femininity about Susie that simply couldn’t be hidden. She had been having man trouble of one sort or another for as long as Jenna had known her, and that had been since they had both started senior school together when they were eleven years old.

‘Who, Simon? Come on, it isn’t that long since you last saw him … My twenty-first, wasn’t it? And he hasn’t changed that much … Men don’t, do they, not once they get over thirty … He still looks deliciously distinguished … especially when he’s wearing his court gear. He hasn’t gone grey, though, or anything like that. Odd, isn’t it, that he should have such dark hair, black as a crow’s wing really, and mine should be so fair … Ma reckons he inherited his colouring from a Cornish great-grandmother …’

Jenna subdued a faint sigh at her friend’s ramblings, and then interrupted firmly, ‘No, Susie, not Simon! What’s his friend like, the one he wants you to marry?’

‘You mean you will help me? Oh, my God, Jenna, I knew you would! I know it will work, the minute he sets eyes on you he’s bound to fall for you … It’s not fair … why couldn’t I be tall and slim, instead of small and round? And your hair, I’ve always yearned for dark red hair … it’s so … so …’

‘Red?’ Jenna supplied challengingly, with a gleam in her eyes, quite forgetting for the moment that as yet she had most definitely not made any commitment to help her friend rid herself of her unwanted suitor, no matter what Susie might choose to believe.

Her red hair was a constant source of irritation to her. People who didn’t know her constantly made reference to the temper they suspected must go with it. Others, normally women, asked her if it was dyed … It was a rather spectacular shade of dense, dark red. It went well with her creamy skin, although untypically her eyes were not gold or green, but a dark, true sapphire-blue.

All her life she had had pinned on her the label of a redhead’s infamous temper, and because of it she had cultivated a cool remoteness that outwardly at least she allowed nothing to shake.

The temper was there all right, but she hated being predictable. And if there was one person above all others who had the knack of arousing that temper it was Simon Townsend.

They had first met when she was twelve and he was nineteen. Susie had taken her home with her after school. An only child herself, she had been inclined to stand in awe of the elder brother Susie talked so much about, even before she had met him.

It had a been a summer’s afternoon, and they had arrived from school, hot and sticky. Simon, home from university, had been playing tennis, but he had come in looking cool and unflappable in his tennis whites, his dark hair slicked smoothly to his masculine skull, his eyes cool and unfathomable, making Jenna feel as though he was looking right into her mind and reading every single little thing that was hidden there.

So powerful was the memory of that meeting that she actually squirmed uncomfortably in her chair.

Susie, at last realising the whole of her best friend’s attention was not focused upon her, broke off in mid-sentence and stared at her, her brown eyes rounded and filling with tears.

‘Jenna, please … please help me. You don’t know what it’s like to be in love, the way Peter and I are …’

‘No, I don’t,’ Jenna agreed firmly. ‘Nor can I see why you don’t simply tell dear brother Simon to forget his empire-building plans and say you’re in love with someone else! Come on, Susie, he can’t force you into marriage with this friend of his … Your parents wouldn’t let him.’

‘You don’t know Simon,’ Susie responded darkly. ‘It’s becoming a barrister that’s done it—all that power, it’s gone to his head. You know how persuasive he can be, Jenna, once he starts talking to me …’ She gave a tiny, but effective shiver, making Jenna remember rather wryly the fact that she had been one of the leading lights in their theatrical group when they were at school.

‘It’s all right for you,’ Susie continued miserably. ‘You’re so strong-willed, so firm in what you want to do. I’m not, and once Simon gets to work on me, I’m terrified that he’ll get me to agree to doing something I don’t really want to do … The problem is that he detests poor Peter, even though he’s only met him once … And just because Peter forgot to put his handbrake on and ran into the back of Simon’s car … Such a fuss about a piece of tin! Of course, that made Simon take against him right from the start, but I didn’t realise then just what he’d got in mind for me. Ma let it drop the other weekend when I went to see them. I told her that Peter and I were planning to go away on holiday together this year, and Ma said that she thought I would have been going to Canada with John … She got all flustered and het up about it, so I guessed there was something going on, and I got her to admit to me that Simon thinks I should marry John …’

‘I still can’t see why you need my help.’

‘You know me, I’m hopeless at confrontation scenes. You know how weak I am.’

Visions of the many disappointed young men she had had to send away from their front door in the days when they had shared university digs together came to Jenna’s mind …

‘Please, Jen! All I’m asking you to do is to cover for me while Peter and I go away … We need time to be alone … time together without Simon interfering. We’re going down to Cornwall. The folks still have the house down there … Remember it?’

Jenna did. Many years ago when she and Susie had both been in their early teens, she, and her grandmother who had brought her up after her parents’ death in an avalanche while they were on a skiing holiday, had spent several happy summer holidays with Susie and her parents at their holiday home in Cornwall, holidays made all the more pleasant because Simon had not shared them—he had been away at university, and then later undertaking his training for the bar.

It was a long time since she and Susie had holidayed together; the last time had been the summer they had left university, when they had travelled all through Europe together. On that occasion, too, she remembered Simon raising objections about their plans. Her mouth compressed slightly as she remembered this and other things …

Simon Townsend could sometimes be too sure of himself and the rightness of his own judgement for his own good. She had few fears that scatty, pretty Susie could ever be inveigled into marriage with anyone—she liked to play the field—but Susie was right about one thing. Simon was a very effective verbal opponent, and Susie, who disliked any kind of conversation that did not focus around fashion, was all too likely to give in to him, simply to keep him quiet.

‘What exactly is it you want me to do?’ she asked, disentangling herself from Susie’s fiercely jubilant hug.

‘I’m going to tell Simon that I’m staying here with you … He’s bound to ring you to check up on me. All I want you to do is to confirm that I’m here!’

‘And if my verbal confirmation isn’t enough?’ Jenna pressed.

It took Susie several seconds to work it out. ‘Oh, you mean if he wants to speak to me?’ A grin curled her mouth. ‘I’ve thought of the most delicious plan. It will completely fool him … I’ve made a tape.’

She delved into her huge shoulder-bag and fished out a small recorder complete with tape. ‘Look, I’ll play it for you. You pretend to be Simon, and then listen …’

Dutifully, Jenna did as she was instructed. When the tape ended she surveyed her friend with mixed feelings and a certain amount of wry resignation.

The tape was an ingenious idea, and Susie knew her brother well enough to be able to anticipate what line his conversation would take. The answers she had dictated on to the tape were vague and Susie-ish enough to be quite convincing.

‘See, you’ll have no problems,’ Susie told her proudly, pressing a button to rewind the machine. ‘I’ve thought of everything!’

‘Including Simon descending on me in person?’ Jenna asked drily.

‘Oh, he won’t do that, he’ll be on circuit. You know, travelling with the judges and things … how they do. He won’t be back in London for simply ages, and I’ll be back myself then …’

‘You’re sure this is only a holiday you and Peter are going on? You’re not running away to get married or anything like that, are you?’ Jenna demanded ominously.

‘Of course not! You know me, I don’t want to get married for ages yet.’

Jenna knew when Susie was telling the truth.

‘No, I just want time to get to know him properly, Jenna, without Simon popping up all the time and spoiling things. You wouldn’t believe what he’s been like these last few weeks … I think he must be watching my flat, because the moment Peter comes round, Simon arrives. I’m twenty-four years old, and I’ve got big brother watching over me as though I was a child. It’s ridiculous,’ Susie fumed, ‘especially when you think of the girlfriends Simon’s had. He hasn’t exactly lived like a monk,’ she finished darkly.

Jenna didn’t try to argue with her. Only the other day, there had been a rather spectacular exposé of the latest bright star on the legal world’s horizon’s involvement with the ex-wife of a government minister.

For intensely personal and private reasons Jenna had studied the article closely and the photographs that went with it.

She hadn’t needed her friend’s rambling description of the lack of changes in her brother’s appearance to know what Simon looked like. Susie had been right, the dark hair was untouched by grey, the firm mouth with its curving, full underlip still curled in the same mocking smile, and his eyes … those chameleon, challenging green eyes that should have belonged to her, still carried their same message of chilly warning.

The woman photographed with him had been like all the other women who had passed through Simon’s life; blonde, soignée, sophisticated and very, very beautiful.

Would he marry this one? The gossip press seemed to think so. It wasn’t like the high and mighty Simon to marry someone else’s cast-off, she thought acidly. If she pictured him with a wife at all, it was with someone young and malleable, someone he could mould to his own desired pattern of what a wife should be.

‘What’s wrong?’ Susie demanded, adding succinctly, ‘Your eyes have gone almost black, they only do that when you’re fuming with someone. Anyone I know?’

When Jenna shook her head, Susie heaved a faint sigh.

‘There must be something wrong with you, Jen,’ she accused. ‘Look at you, you’re the most gorgeous-looking creature,’ she said generously. ‘Men buzz round you like bees round honey, and yet you ignore them all. When we were kids, I always thought you’d be the one who grew up and got married young …’

‘When exactly is it that you’re supposed to be going off on this holiday of yours?’ Jenna asked, ruthlessly cutting through her friend’s reminiscences.

‘Today! This afternoon … God, I wish I could see Simon’s face if he discovers the bird’s flown,’ she said with a chuckle.

‘Don’t laugh too soon,’ Jenna advised her darkly. ‘It can always be arranged …’

‘You won’t betray me, Jen. I know that … Once Simon—’

‘I can’t see why you simply don’t tell Simon what you’re doing.’

‘Because if I do, he’ll try to dissuade me. You know what he’s like.’ Susie gave a heartfelt groan. ‘The problem is, I’m so used to doing what he tells me that I’m frightened I’ll go on doing it, even when it isn’t what I want … Simon can be so—so compelling at times.’

‘Hero-worship,’ Jenna scoffed. ‘You should have grown out of that years ago.’

‘You don’t know how lucky you are not to have any brothers or sisters. Just you and your grandmother, and she’d never force you into doing anything you don’t want to do.’

Jenna could have pointed out to her that there were methods of enforcing one’s wishes other than those adopted by Susie’s elder brother, but she refrained, sensing that Susie would never understand the gentle, tender pressure one old lady with a longing to see her one grandchild ‘settled down’, as she called it, could bring to bear on that same grandchild.

Long after Susie had gone, blowing her a string of kisses and promising to get in touch, Jenna remained sitting in her armchair.

Her flat was small and pin-neat, furnished by ‘bargains’ she had acquired through her job as personal assistant to a very dynamic and go-ahead interior designer.

If she had had any sense, any sense at all, she would have refused to help Susie. Simon Townsend could be a very powerful adversary indeed, as she already had good cause to know. She closed her eyes and lay back in the comfortable chair.

The summer she had been fifteen, she had fallen madly and very obviously in love with Simon Townsend, but it had very plainly been made clear just how impossible were the foolish dreams she had been dreaming …

Her adolescent crush on him had faded as adolescent crushes do, but it had left behind a sense of bitterness and resentment, and antagonism towards him that Jenna had never lost, and which had made her weary and cautious in all her dealings with his sex.

In her heart of hearts she suspected that she had agreed to help Susie in her crazy plan because she would enjoy the opportunity of thwarting Simon.

For all her dizziness, Susie could be extremely astute. If she said that her brother was trying to foist one of his friends off on her, then she was probably quite right. Simon had always had a decided inclination to meddle in the affairs of others, an irritating ‘I know best’ attitude it would give her a great deal of pleasure to squash.

This time he wouldn’t be dealing with an immature, gauche fifteen-year-old, but a woman of twenty-four, well able to use the brain God had given her, and not afraid of meeting any man on equal terms.

The phone call which had preceded Susie’s early morning Saturday visit had disrupted her entire day. She had planned to go home and see her grandmother, but now it was too late.

The Gloucestershire village where Susie’s parents and Jenna’s grandmother lived was a quiet, remote place, but she often missed it. Susie had been right when she claimed that she had always imagined that Jenna would settle down first.

As a teenager, she had wanted nothing more than to fall in love, marry and raise a family in the familiar environment of the village. But teenagers grew up, and now the idea of marriage had lost a good deal of its lustre.

She had seen too many of her friends’ marriages dissolve under the pressure of modern-day living, and had grown to cherish her single state. No one in her wide circles of friends knew of the money she was carefully hoarding away, against the day when she could fulfil at least a part of her teenage dream.

When she had saved enough it was her ambition to return home; to buy herself a small cottage close to her grandmother’s, and start up her own business, offering a combination of services for which she knew there was a need, such as house-and pet-sitting, book-keeping and typing, gardening and cleaning.

It was her ambition to build up a private agency that would provide all of these services and more, and she was convinced that she could do it, once she had enough capital behind her.

Not even Susie knew what she was planning. To Susie her dreams would be mundane, boring even; Susie loved the bright lights of London, the glamour of the fashion world in which she moved. As an assistant director on a glossy magazine, she lived every minute of her life to the full and wouldn’t be able to understand Jenna’s desire to return home.

Her flat was on the ground floor of a small terraced house which belonged to a friend—a photographer who travelled a lot, and who was only too relieved to have a tenant as careful and reliable as Jenna.

The house possessed a small backyard, which she had transformed with several coats of white paint and a collection of terracotta pots and trellising, holding up a collection of climbing plants. She spent most of the afternoon pottering around in it, enjoying the warmth of the early summer’s day.

Craig was due back tomorrow. He had been working in the Seychelles on a fashion feature for Susie’s magazine.

A charismatic, sometimes moody man in his late thirties, he was involved in what seemed to Jenna to be a hopeless relationship with a married woman who was tied to a physically handicapped husband. But then, who was she to criticise other people’s relationships, she asked herself with a graceful shrug, when she deliberately held herself back from any form of emotional commitment?

Was it prudence that made her so cautious, or was it fear? She pushed the thought aside, not wanting to give in to the mood of introspection slowly enveloping her.

Crossly she blamed Simon Townsend for her unwanted thoughts. He had always had a disturbing effect on her, and apparently it hadn’t lessened.

If she had been so inclined, she could have been wryly amused by Susie’s defection. Her friend had played the doting sister for so long that Jenna had long ago given up trying to make her see that her adored brother was only a man.

On her way round the pretty town garden, she did pause to wonder how Simon himself would react to Susie’s rebellion. His opinions had held sway with his younger sister for so long, it would probably come as an almighty shock.

Susie’s parents, although darlings, were almost as much in awe of their elder child as Susie herself.

His father was a placid, kindly man, now retired, who had once taught at a local public school. His mother was the stronger character of the two, but without the bruising acidity of her eldest child.

As a teenager, still raw from the loss of her own parents, Jenna had grown to look on Susie’s mother and father as sort of adopted parents, just as Susie had come to look on Jenna’s grandmother as a member of her family.

A cool breeze sprang up, bringing goose-bumps to her arms. She went inside, showered and changed out of her jeans and T-shirt into a silky wraparound dress that emphasised the softness of her curves. Her hair hung down on to her shoulders, curling softly, her face—without make-up—oddly young and vulnerable. As she walked through her small sitting-room her eyes fell to the small tape recorder on the table beside the phone.

Well, Susie had made her escape. It just remained now for her to convince Simon that his sister was safely ensconced with her.

She was just about to start making her own early evening meal, when she remembered that she had promised to stock up Craig’s fridge. Susie’s visit had completely banished her promise from her mind. She glanced at her watch, and breathed a faint sigh of relief. There was still time to get what she needed from the shops.

A row of lock-up garages to the rear of the garden held her small Mini. She drove it with the same care and caution she applied to everything else.

Craig was a lazy cook, and so she stocked up on pizza, and a selection of cold meats and other delicacies from his favourite delicatessen.

If he followed his normal routine, the moment he returned he would head for his darkroom, where he would develop the prints he had taken on location, and he would only emerge once he had finished working, whatever time of the night or day that might be.

There was no sign of him when she got back and, using the key he had given her, she went up to his flat and put away her purchases, pausing to open the windows to let in some fresh air before going back down to her own domain.

The phone was ringing as she walked in, and she picked it up without thinking, half anticipating hearing Craig’s voice announcing that he was at the airport and on his way back.

Instead, Simon’s crisp, authoritative voice assaulted her unprepared ear-drum, her whole body tensing as she gripped the receiver.

‘Jenna, I understand Susie’s staying with you?’

‘Yes … yes, she is …’

‘Could I have a word with her?’

She stared blankly at the cream-painted wall of her sitting-room, and then thankfully remembered Susie’s tape.

‘Yes … Yes, I’ll just go and get her.’

She fumbled with the ‘on’ switch of the tape, and accidentally knocked it to the floor. When she picked it up the tape was running, but no sound was emerging. She stared at it in horror. Something had gone wrong!

She trembled as she picked up the tape machine, the fact that Simon was still waiting to speak to Susie forgotten as, to her horror, she saw that the ‘erase’ button of the tape was depressed.

How had it happened? A fluke of mischance, catching it as it had fallen? Or had Susie—scatty, lovable, Susie—depressed it by mistake?

She would never know; what she did know was that Simon was going to be unable to speak to his sister.

She picked up the receiver and took a deep breath, forcing her voice to sound as light and careless as possible as she said calmly. ‘Simon, I’m sorry. I’ve just been out to the shops … Susie’s in the bath and apparently likely to be there for some time. She says she’ll ring you later …’ She crossed her fingers childishly and added, ‘Are you going out this evening, or …?’

She was taking a chance on the fact that since it was a Saturday evening Simon was sure to be going out somewhere or other with his new lover.

There was a pause, and then when he spoke there was a certain unnerving grimness about Simon’s voice as he responded curtly, ‘Yes … yes, as a matter of fact, I shall be going out.’

He rang off before she could say anything else, leaving her feeling idiotically shaken and extremely unnerved.

What was the matter with her? He was only a man, as she had so often remarked to her friend. She must be getting as soft as Susie to let him get to her like this.

Ah well, it was over now. Simon had quite obviously accepted the fact that Susie was staying with her, and her friend had no doubt made good her escape with the unfortunate Peter, of whom Simon appeared to disapprove so heartily.

She could relax and put the Townsend family firmly out of her mind. She had no plans for the evening; there were friends she could have gone out with, but it had been a hectic week with her boss returning from a week in the South of France, where he had been supervising the final details of a property he had been commissioned to work on. And on his return a dozen or more impatient clients had been waiting to see him.

She was suffering from the pleasurable tiredness that came from having worked hard, both physically and mentally, and she was looking forward to a lazy evening with a tray of tempting nibbles, a pot of strong coffee and the latest Sidney Sheldon to keep her company.




CHAPTER TWO


JENNA had just reached the part where the story was starting to develop properly when her doorbell rang. She groaned, putting her book down reluctantly. It would be Craig, too lazy to search for his own key again.

She got up and went to open the door.

‘Hello, Jenna. I trust my sister is now out of the bath?’

As she fought to control her shock, her attention slid past Simon’s tall, laconic figure to the car parked just behind him. Good heavens, if that was Simon’s, no wonder he had objected to Susie’s new love running into the back of it! She blinked slightly as she took in the luxurious splendour of its dark maroon paintwork.

‘It’s an Aston Martin,’ he told her helpfully, following her gaze. ‘The soft top signifies that it’s a convertible.’

The sarcasm underlying his words snapped her back to reality. This was the Simon she knew so well.

‘I can see that for myself.’

‘You can? You surprise me, Jenna!’

What was he implying? She shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, not having the courage to ask. If she did, no doubt she would receive another sardonic insult.

‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’

She didn’t want to. Had he already guessed the truth, or was he genuinely expecting to find Susie inside her flat?

The sudden screech of a taxi as it came to a halt inches from the Aston Martin’s immaculate bodywork created a welcome diversion.

The door opened and Craig emerged, looking very brown and slightly leaner than Jenna remembered.

He paid off the taxi, and gathered up his belongings.

‘Hi, gorgeous … Missed me?’ he asked, ignoring Simon to plant a warm kiss very firmly against Jenna’s mouth.

His action took her by surprise. An easy camaraderie existed between her and Craig but, while he would often slip his arm round her, or tease her about her non-existent sex life, this was the first time he had actually kissed her.

‘I hope you’ve got something in for supper, I’m starving …’

‘I filled your fridge for you,’ Jenna told him automatically, her attention focused on Simon, and on the extraordinary tension that was emanating from him. What was causing it? The fact that she was keeping him waiting on the doorstep? And yet he hadn’t seemed all that anxious when he’d first asked for Susie.

‘Lend me your key will you, Jen?’ Craig asked. ‘God knows where mine is.’

She stepped back into the hallway automatically in response to his request, both men following her. When she emerged into the light of the sitting-room she saw that the tension had left Simon’s face, and that he was his usual urbane, relaxed self.

‘Know you from somewhere, don’t I?’ Craig asked Simon, while Jenna got her spare key to his flat.

‘Not as far as I’m aware.’

The silky denial irritated Jenna for some reason.

‘You’ve probably seen his picture in the gossip columns,’ she told Craig, eyeing Simon with disfavour.

‘Really?’ Craig looked curious, but not impressed.

‘Are you going to come up and have supper with me later, Jen?’ Craig asked. ‘Or …’

‘Jenna and I have some personal family business to discuss,’ Simon answered smoothly for her. ‘Private family business …’

Craig took the hint, the look he gave Jenna over Simon’s shoulder as he opened the door to leave making her expel a faint shaky sigh of relief.

It was good to know that Craig would be upstairs if she needed him, although quite what Simon could do if he discovered that Susie had deceived him she wasn’t too sure.

‘Er … would you like a cup of coffee, Simon, or …?’

‘What I would like, Jenna, is to know exactly what game my idiotic sister is playing now. And don’t try telling me that she’s staying here with you.’ His eyes swept the neatness of the small room disparagingly. ‘I know my sister … if she were here, there’s no way she wouldn’t already have littered the place with her possessions.’

Jenna bit down on her bottom lip, knowing that what he said was all too true.

‘Where is she, Jenna?’

The silkiness was gone from his voice now, leaving it hard and determined. He must be a very frightening man to face in court, she thought on a soft shiver.

‘Susie is twenty-four-years old, Simon,’ she told him, stalling for time. ‘If she wanted you to know her every movement, I’m sure she’d let you know …’

‘Nice try, but it won’t wash … Susie is up to something, probably with that moronic idiot, Halbury!’

‘Susie loves him,’ Jenna retorted angrily.

‘So she is with him!’ Triumph glinted darkly in his eyes. ‘I thought as much, the stupid little fool … If she can’t see that it’s her trust fund he’s in love with …’

‘You’ve no right to say that,’ Jenna interrupted him.

‘Haven’t I? Have you met Halbury yet, Jenna?’

She bit her lips again, in vexed admission that he had caught her out.

‘You know my sister … How many times has she been in love in the last five or six years? Once a month on average, wouldn’t you say?’

Jenna was forced to concede that he had a point, but she conceded it in silence.

‘The man’s nothing more than a fortune-hunter,’ Simon told her bitterly. ‘He’s filled Susie’s head with some idiotic idea that he’s a talented fashion designer, and that with her money …’

‘Maybe he’s right,’ Jenna suggested tartly. ‘Just because the all-seeing, all-knowing Simon Townsend doesn’t approve of him, doesn’t necessarily mean …’

‘All right, Jenna, you can cut out the acid remarks. He’s been made bankrupt twice in the last four years. Before he started dating Susie he was involved with the eighteen-year-old daughter of a building millionaire, but Daddy realised what was going on and put a stop to it. Halbury must have thought he’d strayed into paradise when he found Susie.’

His voice held such a ring of bitterness, that Jenna went cold with anxiety for her friend. It was true that Susie was not and never had been a good judge of character. She took everyone at face value, believing that all her fellow human beings were as honest and innocent as she herself.

Because the Townsend family as a whole played down the money inherited from a wealthy industrialist uncle of their father’s, Jenna herself had almost forgotten about it. Now her forehead pleated with concern, as she said slowly, ‘But surely Susie can’t touch her trust fund until she’s thirty?’

‘Or marries beforehand, in which case she inherits when she’s twenty-five—in four months’ time,’ Simon reminded her.

Immediately Jenna felt herself flush with guilt. She ought to have questioned Susie more deeply, knowing her feather-headed friend’s prosperity for trouble, but she had been so caught up in the potential pleasure of putting Simon’s nose out of joint that she had completely overlooked this facet of Susie’s personality.

Another unpalatable thought struck her. Had Susie, knowing how she felt about Simon, deliberately introduced him into the situation as a ploy—a decoy, so that she wouldn’t question her too deeply? And then she remembered the rest of what Susie had told her.

‘Susie’s old enough to make up her own mind about whom she wants to marry, Simon,’ she told him. ‘Since you know your sister so well, I’m surprised that you didn’t realise what the effect of trying to force her hand would be,’ she concluded, with an admirable attempt to mimic his own sardonic coolness.

‘Ah, I see … So now I’m featuring as the big bad brother, am I? I take it that Susie has been discussing John Cameron with you?’

‘She told me that you were trying to coerce her into marrying one of your friends—yes,’ Jenna agreed baldly.

His eyebrows rose mockingly. ‘Is that really what she told you? Goodness me, she must have a more inventive imagination than I’d given her credit for. And you believed her?’

His smile wasn’t kind, and it raised an anguished pattern of goose-bumps down the length of her spine.

‘Do tell me, Jenna—how was the dastardly deed to be accomplished? Was I going to drug her and carry her off somewhere, where I could keep her imprisoned until she agreed to marry John, or …’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’ Jenna snapped, interrupting him, bright flags of colour flying in her cheeks. ‘I know what you’re trying to do, Simon, but it won’t work. I know you, remember … there are far more subtle ways of bringing force to bear on someone. Susie was afraid that she would let you persuade her into marriage with this—this John …’

‘Umm … I suppose she neglected to mention that less than twelve months ago when she first met him in Canada, she was actually engaged to John, albeit very fleetingly. She broke off the engagement when he told her that they would be living on his money.’

Jenna felt herself flush again. She wasn’t’ sure whom she was the most annoyed with, Susie, Simon, or herself for being such a gullible idiot.

‘Where have they gone, Jenna? And don’t bother trying to lie to me. I know she’s gone off somewhere with this Halbury idiot.’

‘Cornwall,’ Jenna told him, defeated. ‘Your parents’ house … She wanted time on her own with him, to get to know him properly …’

Defeat and guilt tasted acid in her mouth. Simon was just as capable of shading the truth as Susie herself, but in this instance … She gnawed on her bottom lip, wishing she had never got involved in the situation in the first place.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘What do you think?’ Simon asked ironically.

‘Go down and bring her back?’

‘Clever girl!’ He glanced at his watch, revealing a tanned forearm, crisped with very masculine-looking dark hairs.

‘Enjoyable though I find your company, Jenna, I’m afraid I’ve got to go …’

‘Will you drive down there tonight?’

He raised his eyebrows slightly.

‘Like a knight on a white charger, intent on protecting my sister’s virtue?’ He shook his head. ‘No, not tonight.’ He walked to the door, and then paused, turning to eye her thoughtfully. ‘By the way, do give my apologies to your … friend, for interrupting his … homecoming …’

Jenna caught the underlying message and gritted her teeth against it. ‘There’s no need to be coy, Simon,’ she responded coolly. ‘If you’re trying to intimate that you believe Craig and I are lovers, why not come right out and say so? After all, there isn’t any reason why we shouldn’t be, is there?’

‘None,’ he agreed cordially, giving her a hard-edged look. ‘And although it’s none of my business, I have to say that you hardly took the part of the eager lover, desperate to return to his arms,’ he told her with gentle malice.

She couldn’t let it pass, it came too close to home, too close to a truth she couldn’t bear to admit.

‘Craig and I have lived together for quite a long time, Simon,’ she responded calmly. ‘Neither of us seems to need the constant stimulation of new partners … But then we’re all of us different, aren’t we?’ she added with an acid smile.

If her barb had found its mark, there was no sign of it. She followed Simon out into the hall, and let him out of the front door. She watched as he walked away, a tall man, who, despite being powerfully built, moved with a lithe grace that could on occasion be faintly menacing.

When he had gone she went back to her sitting-room, her interest in her book now completely gone. She had failed Susie; now what was she to do?

She looked at the phone and then remembered that the house in Cornwall did not possess one. It was a holiday home, Mrs Townsend had always said, and that being the case, a telephone could only be an unwanted intrusion.

She thought of Susie, still blissfully unaware of what tomorrow would bring. Her friend had quite probably deliberately deceived her. Simon might be correct in everything he had said about Peter Halbury, but that did not alter the fact that he still had no right to interfere in his sister’s life, Jenna told herself stubbornly.

Somehow Susie would have to be warned. But how?

There was only one way, and she knew even as she contemplated it that her mind was already made up, and had been from the moment Simon had announced that he wouldn’t be going to Cornwall until the morning.

It would be a long drive, and an uncomfortable one in her small Mini, but the very thought of depriving Simon of his prey was enough to make her ignore any potential discomfort.

She went upstairs to Craig’s flat. He opened the door immediately to her knock.

‘Gone, then, has he?’ He looked speculatively at her, but Jenna refused to be drawn.

‘Yes, he has. Craig, I have to go down to Cornwall—immediately … Will you keep an eye on my flat? I’ll only be gone for a couple of days.’

She sensed that Craig wanted to question her, but after a moment’s hesitation he shrugged and said laconically, ‘Of course, why not? You’re not thinking of taking that car of yours, I hope?’

‘What else?’

‘Take mine instead,’ he offered.

Craig owned a six-month-old Porsche that was his joy and pride, and Jenna blinked slightly at the munificence of this offer.

‘Craig, I couldn’t!’

‘Of course you could. You’ll be a damn sight safer driving mine than that tin can of yours.’

Reluctantly she allowed him to persuade her, knowing that the journey would be faster and much easier in Craig’s car.

He gave her the keys, and she went back down to her own flat to pack an overnight case.

Within an hour she was on the road, busy with mid-evening traffic, but once she had cleared the city she had the motorway almost to herself. The Porsche was a dream to drive, eating up the miles. The route was familiar to her from all the holidays she had shared with Susie and her family at their Cornish cottage, and although she had to stop three or four times to check signposts, once she was off the motorway she felt that she was making good time.

Susie would be shocked to see her, but better that shock than the one she would get should Simon turn up unannounced some time tomorrow afternoon.

At last she was crossing the Tamar—always an important psychological moment in those teenage journeys—and finally she was on Cornish land.

Although both Susie and Simon shared their Cornish ancestry, only Simon showed it, with his olive skin and night-dark hair. Mrs Townsend had once voiced the opinion that she suspected there might even be a trace of Spanish blood somewhere in their Cornish inheritance—Spanish galleons had been wrecked off the Cornish coast at the time of the illfated Armada, and more than one dark-haired, swarthy-skinned sailor had made it safely ashore.

The cottage was situated just outside a tiny fishing village several miles from St Ives, on a part of the coastline so rugged and swept by dangerous tides that it had never fallen foul of any developers.

Tregellan Cottage was perched on top of a jagged stretch of cliff exposed to the full force of the Atlantic gales in the winter.

It had its own private beach that could only be reached via a narrow cliff path that was not for vertigo sufferers or those who were queasy-stomached.

There were no signs of life in the village, but Jenna had not expected there to be; at gone two in the morning it was hardly likely that anyone would still be awake.

Craig’s Porsche purred triumphantly up the narrow cliff road—as her poor little Mini would never have done. The cottage was in darkness, and she parked at the front, climbing a little wearily out of the driving seat and walking towards the door.

It was a beautifully clear night and she stopped briefly to breathe in the salt-laden air.

Even from where she stood she could see the ocean—see and hear it, the soft, lulling sound of the outgoing tide distinctly soothing to the ear.

She moved, her bare arms caught by the sudden breeze that sprang up and she shivered slightly as she hurried down the flagged path to the cottage door.

She had changed into a comfortable cotton jumpsuit for the drive, and the sea wind flattened the fabric across the fullness of her breasts.

The cottage had no bell, just an old-fashioned lion-headed knocker. However, just as she lifted her hand to touch it, the cottage door opened.

It was a rather odd sensation, staring into complete blackness, and Jenna hesitated uncertainly on the threshold until common sense came to her rescue and she realised that Susie must have heard her drive up.

Stepping inside she said quickly, ‘Susie, I’m afraid I’ve let you down and you’re in for a shock …’

‘Unfortunately, Jenna, I suspect the shock is going to be yours.’ She gasped as Simon stepped out from the shadows. ‘Please excuse the rather theatrical darkness, but I can’t find the blasted paraffin lights, and the generator is on the blink.’

Electricity had never reached the remoteness of the clifftop, and for years the Townsends had kept on hand some old-fashioned storm lanterns for those occasions when the temperamental generator refused to work.

‘I think your mother keeps them on the cold slab in the small cellar,’ Jenna responded automatically, shock giving way to ire, as she demanded, ‘What are you doing here, Simon? You told me you weren’t going to come down until tomorrow.’

‘So I did, but I changed my mind … I must admit it never struck me that you would be so quixotically loyal to my idiotic sister as to drive down here yourself! It can’t have been a comfortable journey in that tin can of yours.’

‘I’m not driving the Mini,’ Jenna snapped. ‘Craig lent me his Porsche.’

Now that her eyes were accustomed to the gloom, she could see the derisive lift of Simon’s eyebrows quite clearly.

‘Really? He must be more besotted than I’d imagined, or you, my lovely Jenna, must be far more … talented.’

She flushed beneath the barb of the deliberate sexual innuendo, hating him for the mockery it held.

‘Unfortunately, both of us appear to have made a wasted journey, because Susie isn’t here.’

‘Not here! But she told me …’

‘She lied to you, I’m afraid,’ Simon interrupted her coolly. ‘She isn’t here, nor has she been here … I must admit I was a little surprised to learn that her luxury-loving friend was prepared to spend close on two weeks down here. The Côte d’Azur is more in his line.’

He said it with a hard disdain that made Jenna wince.

The burst of adrenalin which had fuelled her determined drive to Cornwall had gone. In its place was a weary exhaustion that locked her muscles and made her ache for sleep.

There was only one thing left for her to do now and that was to return to her flat. The thought of the long, tiring drive was not a tempting one.

As she turned round and started to walk away, Simon caught hold of her arm.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Back to London.’

She saw him grimace, a weary, almost self-mocking tightening of his facial features, which surely must only have been the trick of the light, because Simon had never viewed himself with self-mockery in all his life—of that she was quite sure.

‘Rather dramatic, don’t you think? I know you loathe the very sight of me, Jenna, but you’re hardly going to be contaminated by spending half a dozen hours under the same roof. I shouldn’t think your boyfriend would be too pleased if you wrote off that expensive piece of equipment he’s loaned you. You’re in no fit state to drive back to London now,’ he added firmly. ‘I suspect we’ll find that half the bedding’s damp and the cottage is freezing but, thanks to my dear sister’s notorious selfishness, we have no other option but to stay here.’

Jenna frowned. Susie selfish!

‘She didn’t know we’d follow her down here. I suppose she changed her mind at the last minute and …’

‘Didn’t she?’ Simon asked her sardonically. ‘I think you’ll discover that Susie never had the slightest intention of coming down here. If I’d given it more thought at the appropriate time, I should have guessed she’d given you a red herring. Susie was never overly fond of the place. She’d certainly never choose it as a lovers’ rendezvous.’

‘Susie loved it down here,’ Jenna protested. ‘We both did.’

The look Simon gave her as he turned to study her upturned face in the darkness of the hall made her feel odd—weak and vulnerable, somehow, as though she had said something very betraying.

‘Susie’s a city dweller,’ Simon told her. ‘Not like you. What made you go and live in London? I thought you were going to spend the rest of your life in Gloucestershire.’

‘What as?’ Jenna asked him bitterly. ‘The village spinster?’

Simon ignored her gibe and added tauntingly, ‘What happened to the husband and two-point-two offspring you were so convinced you wanted?’

‘That was when I was fifteen—I’ve changed since then.’

‘Yes, yes, I believe you have. Stay here, I’ll go down to the cellar and get the lamps.’

Much as she objected to his high-handed manner, Jenna knew there was little point in following him down the steep flight of stone steps into the cellar.

The house was built into the cliff side, and as teenagers she and Susie had amused themselves by searching the stone rooms for secret doorways that might conceal passages down inside the cliff face, as in the best tradition of smuggling stories. Or rather, she had amused herself, Jenna realised painfully. Susie had always been rather inclined to scoff at her romantic imaginings.

She made her way to the larger of the cottage’s two sitting-rooms, and pushed open the door. In the dim light she could see that the furniture was swathed in covers. The air smelled cold and faintly stale, and she went over to open one of the windows.

Simon was right, there was little point in her driving back to London tonight, and yet she still felt a small prickle of unease at the thought of being alone here with him. It was ironic really, when for so many years she had been filled with foolishly romantic dreams of just such an event.

How old had she been when she had become infatuated with him? Fifteen? Fifteen! Why deceive herself? she asked herself ironically. She could remember exactly when it had happened. It had been here at this very house, the summer she was fifteen. Simon had made an unexpected visit and she had been sitting in the garden when he arrived. Tall and bronzed from his French Riviera holiday, where he had been crewing on a friend’s yacht, she had watched him come towards her. Jenna had been alone at the time, Susie and her parents having gone into the nearest town to do some shopping.

Her heart had almost seemed to stop beating, lurching into her throat. She hadn’t been able to speak or even breathe …

Thank heavens she had managed to keep her feelings to herself, and that no one had ever guessed how she felt. Once or twice she had felt a thrill of fear at the thought that Simon might have realised, but apart from the odd teasing comment, delivered in much the same brotherly manner he used towards Susie, he had rarely even spoken to her.

The arrival of his latest, equally tall and tanned girlfriend had brought home to her the impossibility of her romantic yearnings, and when towards the end of the holiday she and Susie had become engaged in a heated conversation about how they wanted to spend the rest of their lives, Elena had laughed in derision when Jenna had mentioned her own wish to settle down and have a family.

‘You see, Simon,’ she had said laughingly, ‘you should always avoid quiet, plain little girls, they always have marriage on their minds.’

Jenna had been hurt by the older girl’s cruel remark, but after all there had been nothing personal in it. Since her arrival they had hardly seen anything of her or Simon. They went out together every day in Simon’s small sports car, returning only briefly at supper time to eat and change to go out again.

Her infatuation for Simon had died quite quickly, but it had left her with a curious antipathy towards him, an unease when in his company that made her restless and on edge.

She heard him coming back, and heard him swear as he stumbled into something.

‘I’ve found the lamps, but there doesn’t seem to be any fuel for them.’

‘It’s in the garage,’ Jenna told him.

He cursed again.

‘Only a woman could do something as idiotic as that! Why on earth isn’t it with the lamps?’

‘Because I believe your father considered that it was safer to fill and light the lamps outside than in the confined space of the cellar,’ Jenna told him coldly.

‘Ah, I see … Very well then, I consider myself well and truly put in my place, and take back everything I have said about your sex, Jenna. Will that do? Have I made amends?’

‘I’ll go upstairs and see if I can sort out some bedding,’ Jenna told him, ignoring his taunting remark. ‘I wonder if your mother still keeps those sleeping-bags down here?’

‘I don’t know. It must be a couple of years since anyone was last down. My father was talking about selling the place.’

Jenna only just managed to suppress her instinctive protest, reminding herself that whatever Susie’s family might choose to do with their cottage was really no concern of hers. But so many of the happier memories of her childhood centred round this weathered, unprotected dwelling. She was being sentimental, she told herself as she went upstairs and made her way to the small walk-in airing cupboard.

Without any proper light it was impossible to find what she was looking for, so she resigned herself to await Simon’s return.

He wasn’t long. She heard the door bang as he came inside, and then saw the glow from the two lamps he was carrying.

He brought one up to her, leaving the other at the foot of the stairs.

‘Here, this what you’re after?’ he asked, tugging on the neatly folded, familiar sleeping-bags.

‘Yes, I thought it would make more sense to use these than to bother making up the beds.’

‘I agree. I was having a root in the kitchen before you arrived. I think I’ve managed to locate a jar of instant coffee and some powdered milk. Mrs M must leave it here for when she comes to do her monthly check.’

Mrs Magellan was the wife of the local garage proprietor. She had a key for the cottage and came up once a month to clean and check that all was in order.

‘I thought I’d use Susie’s and my room,’ Jenna suggested, handing Simon one of the sleeping-bags, and turning away from him.

She and Susie had shared the smallest bedroom, tucked up under the eaves, and she headed for it instinctively.

She only realised that Simon had followed her when she saw the golden glow of the lamp reflecting against the polished wood of the door.

She turned the handle and the lamp illuminated the interior of the small room. The two single beds that once occupied it had been dismantled and an ominous dark stain covered part of the ceiling.

‘Damn! I forgot … Dad did say something about the roof losing some slates during a bad storm. Let’s hope that the damage is just restricted to this room.’

It wasn’t … Out of the cottage’s four bedrooms, only one remained damp free.

It would, of course, have to be Simon’s, although his single bed had gone and in its place was the double bed that had once been in his parents’ room.

‘Well, Jenna,’ Simon announced when they had both surveyed the room in silence, ‘it looks that at long last all your girlish dreams are going to come true and you get to spend the night with me … I take it that you will … er … behave like a lady?’

Jenna could have hit him. All those years when she thought she had successfully hidden that embarrassing teenage crush from him, and now he casually let her know that she hadn’t! What was more, he actually dared to taunt her with the fact, and to add insult to injury.

‘Don’t worry, Simon,’ she told him with acid sweetness. ‘I’m rather fussy about whom I sleep with—one has to be these days. You’ll be quite safe … I’ll sleep downstairs.’

‘Oh, well, at least you won’t be alone,’ he responded comfortingly. ‘From the signs I saw in the kitchen, it looks like a whole colony of mice have taken up residence. I suppose they must have come in from the fields.’

All her life Jenna had had an irrational fear of the small, furry creatures and now immediately she tensed, visions of an entire army of them frolicking over her recumbent form as she slept tormenting her. She shuddered.

‘You’re lying to me.’

Simon’s eyebrows rose.

‘Why on earth should I? You don’t actually think I have evil designs upon you, do you?’

Put like that it sounded ridiculous. Of course he didn’t want her, she knew that, but she also knew that for some reason he seemed to delight in tormenting her. Tormenting her? How could lying on the same mattress while securely wrapped up in her own sleeping-bag possibly torment her?

‘Look, I’m shattered. You make whatever arrangements you choose, Jenna, but if you’ll excuse me I want to get some sleep.’

‘Do you want to take the lamp or …’

Reluctantly she picked up her sleeping-bag and walked over to the bed.

Behind her she heard the bedroom door swing shut and for some ridiculous reason she felt as though she had walked into a well-sprung trap.

‘I’ll let you have first go at the bathroom,’ Simon offered magnanimously, ‘but I warn you, the water is like ice.’

It came from an underground well and Jenna shivered in remembered dread of its icy sting.

She went down to the car to fetch her overnight case, acknowledging the impossibility of using the two shaped seats as a makeshift bed. She was aching all over with tension and tiredness.

She heard Simon moving about in the kitchen as she walked in.

‘Fancy a cup of cocoa? I’ve found some at the back of the cupboard, although heaven only knows what it will taste like with dried milk.’

She was thirsty, and perhaps it would be as well if, for this one night at least, she put her resentment of him behind her.

‘Yes, please.’

‘OK. I’ll bring it up when it’s ready.’

By the time she heard his footsteps on the stairs, she was undressed and tucked up inside her sleeping-bag. It occurred to her that in anyone other than Simon she could have taken his delay as a gentlemanly acknowledgement of her modesty, but since when had Simon ever bothered to take her feelings into account over anything?

The cocoa was surprisingly good, warming her chilled hands as she cradled the mug.

Simon disappeared into the bathroom, and was gone long enough for her to finish her drink and snuggle down into her sleeping bag.

She felt the bed dip and heard the rustle of the nylon fabric as he made himself comfortable, and then the room was plunged into darkness as he extinguished the light.

Some time during the night she dreamed that she was freezing cold, ploughing through numbing wastes of snow, and then deliciously she was warm again. She smiled in her sleep, completely unaware of the fact that the reason she was now so warm was that Simon had unzipped their separate sleeping-bags and then zipped them together to provide extra warmth.

It also brought Jenna into much closer contact with his warm body as he lay against her back!




CHAPTER THREE


JENNA heard the noise distantly, as no more than an irritating intrusion into the pleasant rosiness of her dream. She wriggled comfortably and burrowed deeper into the sleeping-bag, relishing the solid wall of warmth at her back, and then when the noise grew more intrusive she opened her eyes, blinking reluctantly in the brilliance of the early morning sunshine.

It took her several seconds to grasp what was going on. She remembered getting into bed all right, and she remembered the sleeping-bag as well, but she also distinctly recalled cocooning herself into it alone, and now for some reason it seemed to have stretched to include …

She tensed and turned over.

Simon!

He was still asleep, looking absurdly young, even with a dark overnight growth of beard.

‘I don’t know who it is in there, but you’re on private property …’

The bedroom door opened unceremoniously, and Mrs Magellan stood there, glaring belligerently at the bed.

The way her expression changed as she recognised both its occupants could in other circumstances have been amusing, but right at this moment Jenna felt more like a naughty schoolgirl caught in an underhand activity.

‘Well, I never! Miss Jenna … And Master Simon …’ A disapproving frown pleated Mrs Magellan’s forehead. ‘Well, when I saw those two cars parked outside, I thought you must be some of those hippies … I never thought …’

Her frown deepened, and Jenna wondered despairingly how on earth she was going to be able to explain the long and complicated story that was the truth.

She kicked Simon ruthlessly and hard on the shin. He was the one who had got them into this mess, she fumed, and he could jolly well get them out of it! He was the one with the trained legal brain, after all—the brilliant barrister so fluently capable of putting forward a good defence.

She kicked him again. He muttered something unintelligible and then opened his eyes.

‘My God, Mrs M!’ He sat bolt upright, exposing a good deal of hair-darkened masculine torso.

‘Mrs Magellan wants to know what we’re doing here, Simon,’ Jenna told him.

‘Ah …’

Jenna could have sworn that he was amused, though no sign of undesirable levity showed in his face.

‘Well …’

‘I’m sure it’s not for me to question a fully grown man about his morals, Mr Simon, but I should think your mother would have something to say to this … and with Miss Jenna as well …’

‘Yes, well, you see, Mrs M, Jenna and I—we’re going to get married … and Jenna being the sentimental sort wanted to come down here to the place where she first fell in love with me. You know what girls are …’

At his side, Jenna seethed in bitter silence. How dared he do this to her! Why couldn’t he simply have told Mrs Magellan the truth?

‘Of course, we had intended to have separate rooms, but we didn’t realise there’d been so much rain damage …’

‘Oh, well, since the pair of you are getting married, I suppose it’s all right … but it’s not what I would have expected of you, Miss Jenna … I’ll go downstairs now and let you both get up. I dare say you’ll be wanting to get back to London once you’ve had a bite of breakfast.’

The moment the older woman had closed the door behind her, Jenna rounded on Simon.

‘What on earth made you tell her we were getting married?’ she demanded furiously. ‘Why didn’t you tell her the truth?’

‘I didn’t think she’d believe it. I thought I did quite well on the spur of the moment,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘Very well, in fact …’

Jenna wasn’t to be mollified.

‘You know what a gossip she is! It will be all round the village by tonight …’

‘So what? Come on, Jenna,’ he drawled, looking into her shuttered, angry face. ‘It could be worse. I could have let her go on thinking that the pair of us had sneaked down here for a spot of illicit sex, instead of which I did the gentlemanly thing and …’

‘Lied to her! Gave her a totally false impression of our relationship!’ Jenna fumed.

‘What’s wrong? It will never get any further than the village. Your boyfriend isn’t likely to find out, if that’s what’s bothering you.’

‘It isn’t,’ Jenna announced shortly. ‘I just don’t like being involved in any sort of deceitfulness,’ she told him virtuously.

His eyebrows lifted.

‘And of course, lying to me about Susie’s whereabouts in no way constituted any form of deceit?’ he suggested softly.

Jenna wanted to hit him. In fact she was reaching out to do so, when he moved away from her and she became aware that all he was wearing appeared to be a minute pair of briefs.

‘And that’s another thing,’ she told him bitterly. ‘When I went to bed last night, I was lying alone, in my own sleeping-bag.’

‘Mm … You woke me up during the night complaining that you were cold, clinging on to me for dear life. The only way I could shut you up was to zip both bags together.’

Jenna was about to make a heated retort when she had a sudden and extremely disturbing memory of dreaming about snow. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, cursing the tricks that the subconscious mind could play.

‘Look, there’s nothing to get so worked up about. To listen to you anyone would think this is the first time you’ve been to bed with a man.’

He said it so casually that Jenna was stricken into silence. Although he didn’t know it, it was, but there was something so shaming about still being a virgin at twenty-four years of age that she kept it a deep and dark secret.

And the problem was that the longer her virginal state continued, the harder it was going to be to get rid of it.

‘Do you want first go at the bathroom, or shall I go down first and appease Mrs M?’

‘With what?’ Jenna snapped. ‘More lies?’

Even so, she made no objection when he got out of bed, other than to quickly turn her head, averting her eyes from his nearly nude body.

The last time she had seen him wearing so little had been the summer of her adolescent crush, but he had filled out since then, the youth’s body becoming that of a man. Her stomach lurched protestingly as her senses logged the flat hardness of his belly and the tensile, muscular strength of his thighs. He leaned over her, picking up his clothes and she tensed, wishing that he wouldn’t come so close to her. Such man-to-woman intimacy was quite obviously so familiar to him as breathing, while she … while she was rendered as gauche and nervous as a schoolgirl, she mocked herself acidly.

As he moved away from her, she heard him saying laconically, ‘It’s all right, Jenna. I don’t think looking at another man constitutes an act of unfaithfulness.’

Thank God Simon thought she was involved in a sexual relationship with Craig. Otherwise … Otherwise what? Otherwise nothing, she told herself firmly, waiting until she heard him going downstairs before snatching up her own clothes and heading for the bathroom.

It was over an hour before they could escape Mrs Magellan’s determination to provide them with a fitting breakfast, and her questions about the latest news on their families, but at last they were free to go.

Jenna hated the way Simon insisted on accompanying her out to Craig’s car. Quite what Mrs M made of a pair of lovers who arrived at their destination in separate vehicles she had no idea, but no doubt were she to ask, Simon would have a response suitably lacking in truth and reality for her.

‘You’re supposed to be madly in love with me darling—remember?’ he taunted her as she tried to pull away from his constraining hand.

‘Perhaps my lack of conviction springs from the fact that it’s a role I find it quite impossible to visualise myself in,’ Jenna told him tartly.

‘Really! You do surprise me. Can this be the same Jenna who used to follow my every movement with yearning, lovelorn glances?’

Jenna stopped abruptly.

‘Why you …’ She swung around, furious that he should be callous enough to refer to her youthful crush. Her heel caught in a tussock of grass as she moved, and she felt it give way beneath her.

As she fought to regain her balance she saw Simon reaching out towards her. For some reason, she thought that he was going to kiss her, and she was instantly filled with a sense of blind panic, pushing him away.





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