Книга - His Live-In Mistress

His Live-In Mistress
Maggie Cox


At his bidding. . . and in his bed? Adrian Jacobs needs a live-in housekeeper. But pretty, cheerful Liadan Willow is now what he has in mind. She's far too young and pretty to be at his beck and call. . . and to put up with his dark, brooding moments.Liadan finds her new boss intimidating, bad-tempered and magnificently masculine. But does the heat in his eyes mean he wants her in his life–or just in his bed?









Maggie Cox

HIS LIVE-IN MISTRESS





TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE




CHAPTER ONE


AS HER new boots crunched against the thick snow that covered the sweeping yew-lined walk leading to the house Liadan was struck by the beauty and grandeur of the dramatic, imposing edifice that rose up before her. She stopped for a moment to take it in. Draped in a glistening white mantle of snow, its forbidding stone exterior with four rows of perfectly symmetrical eighteenth-century windows gazed down imperiously at her approach, as if questioning her right to be there. For the first time since she’d decided to answer the ad she’d circled so hopefully in the local paper, Liadan experienced a small but impossible-to-ignore shiver of doubt.

Was she doing the right thing? Was she even capable of undertaking the role of housekeeper in such a large and awe-inspiring dwelling? This was vastly different from her parents’ mid-size but manageable little hotel in Dorset.

Sighing a breath that immediately turned to steam in the cold, Liadan tried hard to banish her doubts and instead concentrated on putting her best foot forward and continuing her journey towards the house with a much more optimistic gait.

When she lifted the huge iron knocker, letting it fall twice against the grand double-doored entrance, the sound intruded on the chill frozen air like a drunken visitor blundering in on a wake. A flock of birds calmly nesting in a nearby denuded oak flew into the air in an indignant flurry of surprise, their combined chirruping echoing eerily in the dense winter landscape. Wrapping her orange wool scarf more securely around the collar of her long tweed coat, Liadan couldn’t help biting down on her lip as her imagination briefly ran wild, and she wondered if some haughty grey-haired butler would open the door and arrogantly instruct her to go round to the tradesman’s entrance. Her sense of humour surfacing, she allowed herself a tentative smile at the thought.

In fact the person who answered was a slim brunette, probably in her early forties, dressed attractively in jeans and a red polo-necked sweater. The woman extended her hand in welcome without hesitation.

‘You must be Liadan? Hello there, I’m Kate Broomfield. We spoke on the phone.’

The friendly voice she recalled from her telephone inquiry just two days ago didn’t disappoint now that Liadan came face to face with its owner, and her relief was palpable.

‘Pleased to meet you. Gosh, it’s cold out there!’ She grasped Kate’s outstretched hand firmly with equal warmth. Relaxing, Liadan let her blue-eyed gaze wander round the large, imposing entrance hall she was invited into, her heartbeat quickening at the sight of the huge lofty ceilings with their grand antique brass chandeliers and candle sconces on the walls.

‘I didn’t see a car. Where did you park?’ Kate enquired, watching as the younger woman removed her orange woollen gloves and slipped open the top button of her coat. The hall was surprisingly warm for such a vast area.

‘I didn’t come by car. I walked up from the village.’

‘You’re brave in this weather! That’s a long walk.’ Kate smiled, her brown eyes approving. ‘But of course you’re a local girl, aren’t you? Though you do realise this is a living-in position? Mr Jacobs insists on that.’

‘I know. It’s not a problem.’ For a moment Liadan tried to absorb the full implications of living in such a grand if somewhat remote house, her heart sinking a little at the idea of leaving her cosy little cottage behind. But then that was the beauty of being local. On her afternoons off she could go back home and see to anything that needed doing in her absence. Maybe after a while, when she got to know her employer better, he might even let her have the odd night off so that she could sleep in her own perfectly comfortable bed and play her piano? Not to mention make a fuss of her cat, Izzy. As it was, she would miss not being able to do all those things whenever she felt like it. But as long as her neighbour Jack fed the cat and gave her a little attention now and again to make up for Liadan not being there, she would manage just fine.

Right now, all that was supposition. She hadn’t secured the job yet and might not if she didn’t look sharp. The ad had specified someone between the ages of thirty-five and fifty, and Liadan was twenty-seven. Kate had told her not to worry too much about that. If she proved to be the right person for the job, Mr Jacobs would waive the age restriction, in Kate’s opinion.

‘Want a cup of coffee before I take you in to meet Adrian?’

‘Adrian?’

‘Mr Jacobs. Initially he’ll probably insist you address him more formally, but after a while no doubt you’ll be calling him Adrian too.’

As much as she loved the idea of a warming drink to thaw her out, Liadan felt she’d much rather get the interview over and done with first. He might take one look at her and decide she was far too young for the job of housekeeper of such a grand old house, she thought anxiously. But she had grown up helping her parents run a very successful small hotel and she was no stranger to hard work and long back-breaking hours—especially after her father had died and it had been just her and her mother.

‘If you don’t mind, I’d rather meet Mr Jacobs first. Have you had many other applicants for the job?’

‘We’ve seen two before you but they were both completely wrong. Follow me. He’s doing paperwork this morning so he won’t be in the best of moods, I warn you. But don’t let that put you off. He’s a fair employer and the pay is good, as no doubt you’ve noticed.’

Liadan had. It was the main reason she had applied for the job in the first place. That and the fact it was actually local to where she lived. But she couldn’t help wondering what had been so wrong about her two predecessors…

Smiling reassuringly, Kate rapped smartly on the set of dark oak double doors at the end of a cavernous hallway carpeted in faded red and gold, then swept in ahead of Liadan as a deep voice answered, ‘Come!’

Her heart tripping as Kate announced her, Liadan followed more slowly behind the brunette. Her gaze settled with a little shiver of shock on the man seated behind an old-fashioned writing bureau, his long jeans-clad legs stuck out in front of him as he perused what looked to be a letter. When he glanced up to examine her as she stood beside Kate, the dark, almost black eyes were about as cold and as frozen as Liadan’s toes inside her boots. Somehow, meeting those eyes, Liadan no longer felt so confident about applying for this job. Adrian Jacobs had a gaze that would freeze out the sun, and that had to be worrying.

‘So you are Miss Willow?’ There was a slight, amused tug of his well-shaped but stern mouth that made Liadan’s stomach roll over. ‘What kind of a name is that?’

Her shoulders stiffened. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Did you make it up? Is it some kind of pseudonym or something?’

‘No, I didn’t make it up and it’s not a pseudonym. My name is my name and that’s all I can tell you.’ Just who did he think he was, making fun of her name? Liadan was experiencing some very strong doubts about the interview progressing much further after such a prickly and unpromising start. But she forced herself to stay calm and decided the best approach was not to take his comment personally. ‘At school they used to call me “willow tree”. There were some children who had to suffer far worse nicknames than that, so I guess I got off lightly.’

‘Hmm.’ Glancing back at his letter, he put it down on the desk with a sigh, rubbing at his temples as he did so. Then, as if coming to a decision, he turned to face her more squarely. Once again Liadan’s heart missed a beat. His nose was too big, his eyes hooded and his mouth far too severe to suggest that it ever smiled much. And yet with his thick black hair streaked with fine grey strands here and there and the undoubted hint of muscle beneath his dark sweater, his sheer God-given maleness suggested an impression of great strength and indomitability that was quite awesome.

‘You seem a little young to be seeking employment as a housekeeper. How old are you exactly, Miss Willow?’

Was her age going to be a strike against her…as well as her name, apparently? Flicking open a second and third button on her coat, Liadan told herself to remain calm. With a big fire blazing in the huge stone fireplace, the heat was definitely beginning to permeate her several layers of winter clothing. ‘I’m twenty-seven but please don’t let that put you off, Mr Jacobs. I’ve had several years of experience in housekeeping, helping my parents run a busy hotel in Dorset. Hard work doesn’t faze me and I’ve done most things, from cooking three-course meals to mending a fuse and plumbing in a washing machine. Most of all, I’m cheerful to be around and I’m very willing.’

‘Willing?’ Mr Jacobs’ darkly forbidding brows came together in a sardonic little frown.

Colouring, Liadan smiled. ‘Helpful. I meant helpful.’

‘Of course you did. What about a boyfriend, Miss Willow? Do you have one and won’t he miss you if you come to work here?’

Guessing that he would probably laugh out loud if she told him that her year-long engagement to Michael Marston had broken off because he’d decided to join the priesthood, Liadan shook her head slowly, garnering every ounce of courage she possessed to ride this particular storm.

‘No, Mr Jacobs. I don’t have a boyfriend.’

‘So there’s no problem with you living in?’

‘None whatsoever.’

‘Liadan lives in the village, Adrian,’ Kate piped up. ‘She’s a local girl.’

‘She’s too young and probably won’t last the week.’ His assessment was swiftly damning, and Liadan’s hackles rose with indignation at such a scathing dismissal. Biting her lip, she was nonetheless determined to hold her ground.

‘Mr Jacobs, if you’ll just hear me out, I—’

‘I don’t employ any other staff in the house, Miss Willow. Could you handle the isolation?’

Isolation didn’t faze Liadan. Nor did loneliness. A person could survive both of those states and still have a reasonably fulfilling life. Besides, she liked her own company. She’d never found being on her own a punishment as some of her friends did.

‘I live alone anyway. I’m used to my own company,’ she answered him.

‘Good. After the two disappointing alternatives I interviewed earlier, perhaps you’re more suitable than you look. So how soon can you start? Kate is leaving for London tomorrow and I need to have someone in place before she goes.’

Was he offering her the job? Blinking at him, Liadan stared in disbelief. After his previous comment about her being too young she’d more or less convinced herself that he would show her the door. ‘Um, as soon as you need me to, I should think,’ she replied a little breathlessly.

‘What about references—do you have any?’

She started to delve into her bag for the two letters of recommendation she’d brought. One from her mother, bless her, in her former capacity as hotel proprietor; the other from Moonbeams, the little esoteric shop where she had worked for the past three years until it had gone bust six weeks ago.

Adrian put up his hand as if to stop her. ‘Leave them with Kate. She’ll show you to your room, then give you a tour of the house and a list of daily duties. I desire trust and discretion at all times, Miss Willow. I don’t like being disturbed unduly, but I do expect you to be on call whenever I need you. You’ll have one afternoon off a week as well as every other weekend off. The remuneration I’m sure you already know. That’s all. I’ll leave her in your capable hands, Kate. And how about some coffee when you’re ready?’

‘I’ll bring you some when I’ve shown Liadan her room.’ Kate smiled at her.

‘Good.’ Head down, he was already preoccupied with the contents of his letter before the two women reached the door.



Kate told her he was a writer. A very successful author of crime thrillers, writing under the pen name of Alexander Jacobsen. Once a highly successful journalist reporting on international conflicts all around the globe, he’d had the respect of his peers and the public alike during his career in news. Liadan experienced a shock wave of recognition at the news. Somewhere in the misty annals of her mind, she’d vaguely heard of Adrian Jacobs, but Alexander Jacobsen was the name that resonated. His hard-hitting crime novels always got to number one on the bestseller lists. Although that particular genre definitely did not appeal to her taste, her brother Callum had lent her a couple one Christmas and she had been unable to put them down, they were so gripping. If rather dark. Was that a legacy from some of the terrible atrocities he must have witnessed in his previous career? The thought made her shudder.

‘Occasionally we get the odd reporter or two trying to infiltrate their way into the house,’ Kate continued, ‘but one thing you should be aware of is that Adrian absolutely never, under no circumstances, gives interviews. I would ask that you respect his privacy and don’t divulge any personal information to anyone, and certainly nobody from the village. He’s been gossiped about enough in the past and he doesn’t need the heartache. Do a good job and obey those rules and you two will get on like a house on fire.’

That was the point where Liadan parted company with Kate’s views. One only had to spend a couple of minutes in the same room with the man to realise he was not exactly brimming over with the warmth of human kindness. Instinctively Liadan knew their relationship would be a challenging one. Still, that didn’t bother her too much. She was here to do a job, a job that would pay her more than enough money to live on and maintain her beloved little cottage in the village. More than that, she dared not hope for.

Once upon a time she had longed to meet a wonderful man and have children, but now that longing had been undeniably tarnished. Having spent an intense eighteen months in a relationship with a man whose spiritual conflicts had precluded him from having an intimate relationship with his fiancée, and who’d viewed her work in an esoteric bookshop as close to ‘communing with the devil’, she was in no hurry to repeat the exercise. Being with Michael had all but sucked Liadan dry emotionally. She had mistaken initially strong feelings of friendship for love, and no sacrifice she’d made had been enough as far as Michael had been concerned.

But that was then. Right now all she wanted to do was put the past firmly behind her and carve out a new destiny for herself.



The following morning as she unpacked and hung her clothes in the big oak wardrobe in her room, she paused to glance out of the window at the picturesque winter scene before her. The snow had completely passed Christmas by but now, in early January, the heavens had suddenly opened and covered everything in a perfect coating of white frosting. Briefly wondering how her new employer had spent the holiday season—had he celebrated at home with friends and family?—Liadan reflected on her own solitary Christmas, just herself and Izzy. Granted, it had been by choice. She hadn’t felt like flying out to Spain to join her mother and her new man, and after the traumatic break-up with Michael had not wanted to inflict her less-than-cheerful mood on her brother or her friends. No. She had definitely done the right thing spending the season on her own.

‘Liadan, can you come down to the kitchen as soon as you’ve finished unpacking?’

Opening the door, she found Kate Broomfield on the other side of it, her cheeks pink as if she’d been rushing. ‘Of course.’

‘I want to go over everything with you. I’ve made lists but you might want to make some notes of your own as back-up. We’ll have a cup of tea and a chat and I’ll fill you in on anything you want to know. Ten minutes’ time okay with you?’ Peering over Liadan’s shoulder, she noted the neatly folded clothing on the big brass bed and the opened doors of the large oak wardrobe.

Liadan nodded. ‘I’ve nearly finished.’

‘Good. Sorry everything’s such a mad rush but I’m due to catch a train in just under two hours. I’ve been telling Adrian he needed to interview people for the past three months but would he listen? That’s Adrian for you! Once he’s in work mode he’s on another planet. Anyway, you’re here now, and, if you ask me, he’s definitely made the right choice. Somebody young like you will be a breath of fresh air for him. See you in a tick, then.’ And with that, she turned and hurried down the corridor.



Watching Kate depart just a short while later, Liadan felt as nervous as a new mother bringing her baby home from the hospital for the first time. From now on the welfare of this amazing house and its master was her responsibility. The thought made her stomach plummet and for a long moment she seriously pondered if she’d taken on much more than she was capable of handling. She hadn’t set eyes on Adrian Jacobs since her interview yesterday and, as much as she’d like to, couldn’t put off seeing him any longer. He and Kate had presumably said their goodbyes privately before Kate had come to find Liadan to tell her she was going. Now, standing alone in the huge entrance hall, the house suddenly covered in a blanket of silence since the other woman’s cheery goodbye, Liadan glanced down at her watch and psyched herself up to take her new employer a cup of coffee. At least it would give her an excuse to break the ice a little with him since her abrupt interview yesterday. Making up her mind to do just that, she went to the kitchen, thankful for the warmth that greeted her as she entered, and, placing the kettle on the Aga, sought out a matching cup and saucer.

Minutes later, cup of coffee and a plate of digestive biscuits arranged on a tray, Liadan took a deep breath outside the doors of Adrian’s study and knocked twice, smartly. At the terse, ‘Come!’ she pushed open the door and went inside.

Paper was strewn all around the floor at his feet. His black hair looked as if he had been dragging his fingers through it for the past half an hour at least, and her new employer’s darkening expression leached every ounce of confidence from Liadan’s bones and left her legs feeling as weak as a newborn lamb’s.

‘What is it?’

Trying to ignore the thumping of her heart, Liadan made herself smile and walk towards him. ‘I thought you might like some coffee,’ she said brightly, hoping he wouldn’t register the slight quaver in her voice.

‘Put the tray down on top of the piano and for God’s sake don’t put your feet anywhere near my papers!’



Adrian watched his new housekeeper do as he commanded. The rather old-fashioned long tweed skirt that adorned her slim figure was surprisingly complimentary to the thick wool orange, red and brown cowl-necked sweater she’d matched it with. Now she was free of the encumbrance of her winter coat and thick scarf, he registered that her hair was the same fiery red-gold as autumn leaves and it rippled down past her shoulders to her waist in eye-catching waves. Somewhere in Adrian’s subconscious a deliberately buried memory tugged, and his stomach clenched tight in reflex as pain washed over him.

‘Do you always wear your hair loose like that?’ he asked gruffly.

Her hands gripping the edges of the tray as she settled it carefully on top of the gleaming ebony surface of the beautiful grand piano, Liadan turned her head in surprise. ‘Mostly’ she admitted, with a little shrug. ‘Except when I’m working, of course.’

‘Aren’t you working now, Miss Willow? Or has that particular little fact somehow escaped you?’

Seeing the faint flush beneath her pale cheeks, Adrian felt equal measures of frustration and annoyance that the girl was so pretty. With her big blue eyes and china doll face she was a heartbreaker, all right. What had he been thinking of, offering this fragile-looking beauty the job that was most essential to his own well-being? He needed someone reliable, trustworthy and efficient, like Kate, not someone who looked as if she’d be crushed by just the sound of a harshly raised voice.

Damn it all to hell and back! Why had Kate left him in the lurch in the middle of his most ambitious project to date? He didn’t want to be plagued with questions and inquiries from someone still wet behind the ears when he was working. After four and a half years, Kate knew practically all of his little foibles and idiosyncrasies, including his preferences when it came to the way he liked to work—not to mention food, music and reading material: the four essentials to make his life run smoothly, as far as Adrian was concerned. He didn’t have time to break in a new housekeeper.

‘I’ll go up to my room and tie it back.’ Liadan stepped back stiffly from the piano and turned towards him. The flush on her cheeks was no longer in evidence and her chin was raised a little, as if determined he wasn’t going to bait her. She was annoyed, and, if his own present level of irritation continued, Adrian knew he would have only himself to blame when the girl threw in the towel and left him high and dry. At this moment, the prospect didn’t seem too worrying.

‘Before I go, I wondered if you had a preference for dinner? Kate’s left me a list of options.’

‘If she’s left you a list of options, then pick one for me, Miss Willow. I don’t have time to immerse myself in menu discussions when I’m in the middle of work.’

‘Well, I—’

‘If that’s all you wanted to know, I trust you can now leave me in peace so that I can get on?’

Liadan wondered how she made it to the door without giving him a piece of her mind. The man had no manners as far as she could see, his superior, self-important tone rankled, and if she didn’t need this job so badly in order to keep her little house she wouldn’t hesitate to let him know in detail just what he could do with it! He hadn’t even thanked her for the coffee, let alone asked her if she was settling in all right.

Two hours later, having completed a thorough vacuuming of the upstairs rooms on the first floor, excluding the room that Kate had pointed out as Adrian’s—apparently that was to be cleaned once a week on a Thursday morning when Adrian generally went into town—Liadan returned to the kitchen to browse the recipe books Kate had left. Sipping a cup of camomile tea, her concentration on the list of ingredients needed to make the dish she had selected, she didn’t realise Adrian had stepped into the room until he spoke.

‘Taking a break already, Miss Willow?’

For a moment she stared into those chilly dark eyes in mute astonishment, then, when she’d gathered her wits, she pushed back a coiling strand of red-gold hair that had escaped from her hastily erected bun and frowned. ‘I’m organising what I need for tonight’s dinner, Mr Jacobs. Isn’t that what you hired me for?’

‘As long as you’re not being idle. This is a big house and it takes a lot of looking after. I take a lot of looking after.’

Was he being facetious? Liadan really couldn’t tell. Especially when his expression was about as impenetrable as the vaults of the Bank of England. Releasing a small sigh, she prayed he wasn’t always going to be this difficult, this provoking. Had the affable and dependable Kate been subject to his arrogant moods immediately when she started to work for him? If she had, the woman surely deserved some kind of endurance medal for her troubles.

‘What is it you want, Mr Jacobs? If you’ll just tell me I’ll see if I can help.’

What Adrian could have done with was a long hot bath followed by a massage. He’d been up most of the night writing, his shoulders ached, his head throbbed and he was irritated and angry at Kate’s desertion. And all because the silly woman had fallen for some probably extremely dull professor of history her father had introduced her to during the summer holidays. He’d clearly misjudged her character, because he would have sworn she wasn’t the type to fall head over heels in love like some giddy sixteen-year-old.

Reining in his thoughts on the matter, Adrian met Liadan’s apprehensive blue gaze with a deep frown. He almost had the urge to ask her to oblige him with a massage just for the hell of it. She’d probably turn tail and run out of there so fast her feet would leave a trail of smoke in her wake. He would have smiled at the thought if the consequences of such an action wouldn’t leave him in the direst straits possible.

‘Right now I need to walk and think. Did Kate show you around the grounds when she took you on her little tour?’

‘She would have done but she was in a hurry to catch her train.’ Rising to her feet, Liadan folded her arms across her thick wool sweater for protection. Adrian Jacobs made her uneasy. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel as if he knew everything and she knew nothing—a trait that hardly boded well for a smooth association.

‘Then go and put your coat on and come and join me. I’ll point out a couple of things of interest but otherwise I’d prefer not to have any conversation. If you can manage to stay quiet I think I could tolerate some company for half an hour.’

Embarrassed heat scorching her cheeks, Liadan glanced down at the clean pine table with her thoughts rioting, wondering how she managed to refrain from picking up her cup of camomile tea and throwing it at him. Of all the unbelievably rude, insufferable—‘I’d rather stay here, if you don’t mind. I really need to get my ingredients together to cook dinner.’

Jerking his head in annoyance, Adrian held Liadan riveted to the spot with the force of his steely-eyed stare. ‘Go and get your coat, Miss Willow. When I said I could tolerate some company, I wasn’t giving you the option of a refusal.’




CHAPTER TWO


THE air was so cold Liadan’s breath practically turned to ice as soon as it left her lips. With her coat collar turned up high over her thick woollen scarf, she trailed behind Adrian as he strode ahead, his shoes crunching into the deep impacted snow and his gloveless hands buried deep inside the pockets of his long black coat. The sky was so white it almost matched the snow in brightness and Liadan wished she had her sunglasses to fend off the glare. Shielding her gaze with her gloved hand, she was deeply stirred by the magical landscape that revealed itself to her. Once she could simply accept that Adrian Jacobs wasn’t going to be the most sociable or approachable boss she could hope for, then she could actually start to enjoy the wintry beauty of her incredible surroundings and take pleasure in it, she decided.

‘That tower over there is two hundred and fifty years old and the clipped Holm oaks survive from the original garden. Just beyond the oaks there’s an orangery and an ornamental stream.’

Adrian waited for Liadan to catch up with him as he turned and spoke, his breath mimicking little puffs of locomotive steam in the frosty afternoon air. Surprised by his unexpected solicitude, Liadan duly quickened her stride, her boots plunging deep into the snow as she struggled to find some kind of rhythm, all the while far too conscious of his steady dark gaze on her efforts.

‘Gardens like this must take a lot of looking after,’ she breathed as she drew level. ‘You must have a team of gardeners, surely?’

His dark eyes narrowed. ‘Just George and his son Steven. They’re here most days. You’ll probably see them around. I don’t tolerate too many people on my property, Miss Willow. On the whole, I find people demand far more than I wish to give.’

‘But this is such a beautiful place. Don’t you ever feel like sharing it?’ The question was out before Liadan gave herself a chance to consider the wisdom of speaking such thoughts out loud. It hung suspended in the frozen air, making her squirm inside when it appeared that Adrian had not the slightest intention of answering her. But he didn’t turn away and continue striding ahead as she expected. Instead, a deep scowl etching his brow, he folded his arms across his chest and stared at her.

‘The answer to your question is no, Miss Willow. I expressly don’t feel like sharing my home with anyone. I live here because I actively enjoy the isolation. My uncle lived here on his own for twenty-five years after his wife died. Accidents or illness permitting, I plan to do the same.’

Well, she’d wanted an answer and she’d got one. Did he have any idea how cold and lonely a proposition his words suggested? What had happened to the man that he preferred to live his life away from the rest of humanity, like some kind of eccentric, wealthy recluse?

‘So you inherited the house from your uncle?’ she asked.

‘You were wondering how I could possibly afford to live in such grandeur on the pay of a jobbing writer,’ Adrian drawled scathingly.

Liadan couldn’t help but smile. ‘I know you’re a very successful author of crime novels, Mr Jacobs. It’s rare that your books aren’t on the best-seller lists.’

‘You’ve read my work?’ A new expression stole into those impenetrable dark eyes of his. Surprise? Caution? Disbelief? Perhaps all three? Liadan couldn’t be certain.

‘My brother Callum is a fan. He lent me a couple of your books one Christmas when I had nothing else to read.’ Colouring slightly at the admission and painfully aware that she could have chosen her words more carefully, she pressed on regardless before he could interrupt her. ‘They were very intriguing.’

‘But?’

To her consternation she saw that Adrian was smiling—well, for a second or two it seemed that the corners of his stern mouth lifted a little. Ducking her chin down into the warmth of her orange scarf, Liadan bravely met his questioning gaze. ‘They were so…so dark and spine-chilling. And the endings were unredeemingly bleak.’

‘So you were looking for some kind of redemption in my stories, were you? Some kind of light at the end of the tunnel to reassure you that really life couldn’t be as bad as all that, and all’s well that ends well?’

Her toes curling stiffly inside her boots, Liadan was beginning to wish she’d said nothing. Adrian’s scornful tone made her opinions sound naïve and somehow uneducated, and just for a moment she hated him for that.

‘Life isn’t all bad, no matter what you say. Everyone has their tough times but we learn from them, don’t we? We learn from them and move on. And things always get better as long as we don’t give up, don’t you agree?’

Her blue eyes sparkled a little defiantly, her words stirring such a surprising feeling of rage inside Adrian’s chest that he spun away from her before he said things he would probably only regret later. So the earnest Miss Willow thought that life was full of redeeming qualities, did she? How long before fate snatched the blinkers from her eyes and dealt her a crushing blow, one of the magnitude that he had suffered, to disabuse her of such an opinion?

As he strode far ahead, instinctively knowing she would have trouble keeping up with him, Adrian cursed himself for having the very thought that she might ever suffer such a tragedy.



The dining room was cold and cheerless, and as she laid a place setting for one at the head of the long oak refectory table that evening Liadan glanced distractedly at the empty fireplace, cursing herself for not thinking of laying a fire earlier. Even though the three radiators were switched to a high heat, the warmth they generated barely made an impact on the huge, draughty room. Those stately Georgian windows were the culprits. With their single-paned glass that the wind seemed to rattle through, no wonder the room remained chilled. Rubbing her hands together briskly to make them warmer, Liadan turned on her heel to return to the big bright kitchen, which would be cosily warm and full of fragrant cooking smells from the lamb casserole she’d put in the oven two hours ago. Distracted, she walked straight into a wall of steel with strong arms that immediately reached out to steady her as her eyes flew wide in shock.

‘Mr Jacobs! I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.’

‘Where’s the fire?’

Flustered, Liadan stepped back in dismay, glancing over her shoulder at the empty grate, trying to convince herself that contact with his body hadn’t sent shock waves of acute awareness flooding through her that made all her nerve endings sizzle. ‘I’m afraid I forgot to lay it. I was so busy organising dinner I—’

‘The question wasn’t literal. I wondered where you were rushing off to in such a hurry.’ A glint of amusement lurked in the dark depths of his fascinating eyes. Adrian’s acute study of her was agonising, making her blood heat to an alarming degree.

‘I was—I was anxious to see to dinner. Are you sure you want to eat in here? It’s much warmer in the kitchen if you don’t mind the cooking smells.’

‘I always have my evening meal in the dining room—unless of course I’m working. Then I have it in my study.’

About to boldly suggest he do something radical and break the habit of a lifetime, Liadan clamped her mouth closed just in time and said nothing. So as well as dour and unfriendly he was a creature of habit too? The observation surprised her. In her mind, people who feared change feared life. But Adrian had reported back from some of the most inhospitable environs in the world—in some of the most dangerous situations. It didn’t seem likely that a little thing like changing his dinnertime routine would faze him. Still, it annoyed her not to know the reason why he seemed such a stickler for routine.

‘I’m just sorry it’s so cold in here.’ Subconsciously illustrating the fact by rubbing her hands up and down her arms in her thick wool sweater, Liadan ventured a smile.

‘I think I have enough flesh covering my bones not to be too bothered by the lowered temperatures, Miss Willow.’

Although his manner was teasing, there was no humour reflected in his hypnotically compelling face. Confronted with yet another reminder of that disturbingly hard male body, the muscles in his arms like ropes of steel if his earlier grip had been any indication, Liadan quickly averted her gaze in case her fascinated expression gave her away.

‘Well, then…I’ll bring in your meal if you’d like to sit down.’

‘Bring some wine too. I trust Kate left you instructions as to my preferences?’

A dark full-bodied red with dinner. Liadan didn’t know why the description should bother her so, but right at that moment it did.

‘Right,’ she said, hovering at the door. Paying her no further attention, Adrian moved to the head of the table and sat down.



Her perfume lingered when she’d gone. Not overpowering, but light and sweet where it drifted on the air like May blossom. Breathing it in and feeling its unsettling effect, Adrian picked up his empty wineglass and flicked it restlessly with his nail. Kate hadn’t worn perfume—at least, not that he remembered. Could he enforce a rule that the wearing of perfume was banned whenever he was around, on the grounds that it was far too distracting for his peace of mind? He could just imagine what his pretty new housekeeper would think about that. No doubt she already saw him as a younger version of Scrooge. But why should he worry when, if his initial assumption proved to be right, she wouldn’t even last the week? Irritably he put down the wineglass. Then folding his arms across his chest, he leant back against the high-backed dining chair and briefly shut his eyes.

Nicole had always worn perfume. Even in the most unsuitable places, including the jungle. She used to laugh that a girl had standards to maintain and should never forget her femininity…The thought stole up on him like a thief in the night, searing his chest like a firebrand, and he sat bolt upright, grasping the edges of the table for support. That was twice in one day he’d thought about Nicole—the woman he’d planned to marry, fellow journalist and love of his life. Months had gone by without him allowing such thoughts access to even the merest dusty corner of his mind, and now twice in the space of less than twelve hours her memory had hit him hard, like a fierce blow slamming into his ribcage that doubled him up in agony. His mind’s eye saw her: glorious red-gold hair splayed out on that sun-baked concrete, blood staining the silken strands like some vile desecration; her beautiful green eyes staring up at Adrian in confusion and pain as she drew her last few breaths on this earth.

The news team had been warned about a possible attack on the embassy for weeks leading up to the terrorist bomb that had blown it to smithereens. But on that baking-hot day, after they’d travelled for three days to get there through notorious bandit country, Adrian’s belief in his own invincibility had been sky-high. So much so that he’d convinced the other, less confident members of his crew that, as long as they kept their wits about them at all times, all would be well. Seconds before they started to walk into the embassy, he’d been sharing a joke with Nicole about the unappetising rations they’d endured the last few days, when Mark, one of the older, more experienced cameramen on the team, had called him back to the Jeep to fetch the micro-cassette recorder he had left behind. Just as Adrian had reached the hot, mud-splattered vehicle all hell had broken loose, in an ear-splitting explosion that had sounded like the end of the world. Mark had shoved him roughly to the ground to give him some cover and Adrian had stared helplessly across to the sidewalk to see Nicole lying there…

‘I wonder if any more snow will fall during the night.’

‘What?’ Staring distractedly up into Liadan’s guileless blue gaze, Adrian forced his attention abruptly back to the present. Watching her small, pale hand steadily pour the ruby-red wine into his empty glass, he stole a second or two to wipe away the perspiration that he knew beaded his brow.

‘I said, I wonder if it will snow again tonight?’ Smiling, she put down the bottle, then adjusted his place-mat so that it sat more squarely on the table.

‘I have many interests but predicting the weather isn’t one of them.’

In less than a second, his caustic comment had wiped the smile from her face as though it had never been. Seeing the hurt in her eyes, Adrian took a deep slug of wine, remaining stubbornly silent as she mumbled, ‘Excuse me,’ and retreated from the room without another word.



It was with relief that Liadan turned down the perfectly white linen and pretty red and white quilt on her bed that night. Shivering as she removed her robe, she slid between the ice-cool sheets, making a mental note to go in search of a hot-water bottle the next morning, then pulled up the covers and sat back against the plumped up pillows with a pent-up sigh that she felt she’d been holding in all day. It had been a trying evening and one she wanted swiftly to forget. Adrian was right. Maybe she wouldn’t last the week after all? He was certainly pushing her towards that inevitable conclusion with his morose, uncommunicative behaviour.

Who could blame her if she quit tomorrow, under the circumstances? Clearly the efficient Kate Broomfield had had a substantial advantage when it came to dealing with Adrian Jacobs. She’d had the experience and the wisdom of maturity on her side to help her cope. If not that, then the woman had to have possessed something special to endure four and half years at the beck and call of a man who didn’t seem to view the rest of the human race as even remotely worthy of his attention.

Blinking at the clock on the nightstand, wishing she had more than just five short hours in which to get some sleep before rising at dawn to light the fire in Adrian’s study and make breakfast, Liadan had to admit that her shorter working hours at the shop had perhaps made her a little soft. Now she would have to get used to rising at the crack of sparrows once again—just as she and her mother had done when they’d run the hotel together.

Thoughts of the family home brought thoughts of her father and, not willing to go down that melancholy road at this moment when she was already feeling vulnerable, Liadan determinedly pushed the thought away to save it for another time when she was more able to handle it. She wished that Izzy were here with her, curled up on her lap, her soft, mesmerising purr the only sound to distract her racing thoughts, instead of the unfamiliar creaks and groans of a venerable old house settling down for the night.

In the gentle glow of the lamplight, Liadan guided her gaze to systematically check every dark corner of the bedroom, which was too large and impersonal for her taste and reminded her of a room in a museum. Satisfied that there was nothing to spook her save her own too wild imagination, she promised herself that when next she got home she would fetch some things to make it more homely. There was a charming picture of a cottage garden that hung in her bedroom that always gave her comfort. Perhaps if she brought it back with her it might act as some kind of lucky charm? Right now she could do with some positive influences. She wasn’t the sort who gave up easily but, if she should lose this job, such an opportunity to work so close to home and make some decent money to live on wasn’t likely to show up again soon, no matter how optimistic she was.

There were two viable options as far as she could see. One was to make the best of a difficult situation, sit it out and pray that Adrian Jacobs had a more agreeable side than he had displayed so far, which would reveal itself to her in the fullness of time. The second was to try and make herself as indispensable as she could to her new employer—as indispensable as Kate had been, if that was even remotely possible.



Her eyes gritty with lack of sleep, Liadan was on her knees in the study making up the fire in the impressive marble grate when Adrian came into the room. His appearance disturbed her more than she cared to admit, and not just because she was unsure that she was up to the job of being his housekeeper. With that thick black hair streaked with grey touching his collar, broadly muscular shoulders and a visage that was far more sexy than handsome, he had an aura of power and authority about him that would make a person sit up and take notice, whether they wanted to or not. No doubt it had come in very handy in all those threatening terrains he had reported from, back when he was a journalist, Liadan mused. But such authority first thing in the morning made her feel at a distinct disadvantage. She knew she wasn’t at her best after an almost completely sleepless night and she had only herself to blame. She’d let her anxiety about the job, about Adrian and about being attracted to emotionally unavailable men like Michael nearly drive her crazy.

‘Good morning.’

Her heart almost stopped at his greeting, her thoughts reflecting how good he looked in black, how imposing and how…ticked off.

‘Mr Jacobs, I was just about to—’

‘The fire should have been lit in here at least half an hour ago, Miss Willow. I thought Kate made my routine clear? And where is my coffee? I went into the kitchen but unless my eyesight is failing me I saw no evidence of any being made, not a drop. Care to explain why?’

Hearing the unsettled throb of her own heartbeat in her ears, Liadan sat back on her haunches and nervously pushed her fringe from her eyes.

‘Kate told me she usually gets up around five-thirty, Mr Jacobs, which I did. If it’s taking me a little longer to build up the fire it’s just that I’m a bit out of practice. Bear with me and you’ll have your fire and your coffee in just a few more minutes’ time.’

Amazed at her own ability to appear outwardly calm when inside she was seething at his criticism, Liadan turned her back on him once more to continue with the task in hand. She leant forward to set a match to the tinder, her hand shaking, her face growing hotter by the second at the idea that Adrian’s eyes were burning into the back of her head. She knew she was a good and reliable worker but somehow, from the minute she’d started to work for this man, she had managed to appear anything but. Still, she was resolved to see it through no matter how tough it got, and she vowed to talk to him just as soon as she got the chance to try and set a few things straight before the situation went from bad to worse. It wasn’t unreasonable of him to expect certain standards, but, in Liadan’s book, it was unreasonable to speak to an employee in such an arrogant, rude and high-handed way that it made them feel like leaving. What was wrong with the man, for goodness’ sake? Was he this hostile to everyone or had something about her personally rubbed him up the wrong way?

‘I’ll put the coffee on myself while you see to the fire,’ he said from behind her. ‘But don’t take too long. I’d like my breakfast before I start work and I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.’



As he went out of the door Adrian could have sworn he heard Liadan mutter something heartfelt beneath her breath and he knew he probably deserved whatever insult she was currently castigating him with. If Kate knew how he was behaving towards his new housekeeper she’d read him the Riot Act, but didn’t he have a right to expect good service when he’d made it perfectly clear that that was what he was looking for? As he walked back along the corridor to the kitchen he fought down a fresh resurgence of annoyance at Kate’s desertion and told himself it was her fault entirely if his manner wasn’t all that it should be. As for Liadan Willow—he’d better learn to keep his temper under strict control where she was concerned or he would quickly find himself without a housekeeper. It was that soft silken mass of red-gold hair of hers that was causing all the trouble. It reminded him of the one woman he had truly loved, stirring desperately agonising feelings of recrimination and regret about what had happened that dreadful day that would be with him for the rest of his life…

But his book was nearly finished. He couldn’t risk being abandoned by his housekeeper now when he was at such a crucial point, so he would endeavour to be more civil towards her. Just two more weeks, he estimated, and the thing would be done. Perhaps then his mind would allow him a brief period of peace from the demons of creativity that drove him and he could think about something else besides work. But as he stood spooning dark roast coffee grounds into the percolator Adrian wondered with pain what else he had worth thinking about in his life besides work.



‘Thanks for breakfast. I’m going to my study now, so please take any calls, would you? Just take messages for now and tell them I’ll get back to them later.’

Pausing from stacking a newly washed plate on the drainer, Liadan turned to acknowledge him. Had she really heard him say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ in one breath? At least she hadn’t messed up the breakfast. She’d served him up eggs and bacon and tomatoes done to perfection, she’d kept the toast hot and the coffee strong as he liked it and the food had certainly seemed to lighten his mood.

‘Okay.’

‘Oh, and Liadan?’

She went still as a statue at his unexpected use of her name. ‘Yes?’

‘I need you to go and find George Ferrers, my head gardener. Tell him I’d like a meeting at nine sharp.’

‘But where will I…?’

He’d gone from the room before she had a chance to finish her question. Throwing the dishcloth back into the sink full of hot, sudsy water, Liadan took a moment to gather her thoughts. She gazed out of the window, and experienced a sudden deep longing for the camaraderie and warmth of Moonbeams, the charmingly pretty little shop where she had worked for the past three years with two of the nicest workmates you could wish to find. It was evident so far that working for Adrian Jacobs would not be such a joy.

Wrapped up warm in her long tweed coat, her orange mohair scarf looped snugly round her neck, Liadan filled her lungs joyfully with deep breaths of crisp morning air as she strode out purposefully in search of George Ferrers. Instinctively she headed towards two large greenhouses she’d glimpsed yesterday on her brief tour of the gardens with Adrian. There was too much snow for anyone to do much in the garden, she decided, so it stood to reason if there were greenhouses, that was where she’d find the man she was looking for.

She put her head round the door of the first building, and her spirits lifted when she saw a tall, older man garbed in old trousers, wellingtons, a thick Arran sweater and a sheepskin jacket patting earth down into a huge earthenware pot. He tipped his cap back on his head when Liadan called out, ‘Hello,’ waiting silently for her to join him.

‘You must be George,’ she said smilingly, holding out her hand. He had a kind face, one you could trust, she silently assessed. ‘I’m Liadan Willow. Mr Jacobs’ new housekeeper.’

‘If that’s the case, then things are looking up around here in a big way,’ drawled an interested male voice from behind her.




CHAPTER THREE


THE owner of the voice was tall and handsome, with jet-black hair and a diamond stud glistening in one ear-lobe. As he walked towards Liadan, his scruffy jeans hanging low on his hips, she noted with irritation that he had a deliberate swagger about him, telling her instantly that he imagined himself God’s gift to women. She didn’t normally take immediate dislikes, but she did to this man.

‘And you are?’

‘Steven. Steven Ferrers. George here is my dad.’

Deliberately redirecting her gaze to the older man, Liadan didn’t miss the flash of disapproval in his light blue eyes over her shoulder at his son. ‘What can I do for you, Miss Willow?’

‘Mr Jacobs would like to see you at nine o’clock sharp, if that’s okay? He asked me to come and tell you.’

‘I expect it’ll be about the snow piled up at the back door. Steven here was just about to get on to it, weren’t you, son?’

‘When I’ve finished the other hundred odd jobs I’ve already been ordered to do.’ Not bothering to temper his obvious resentment, Steven leant back against a table full of trays of seedlings, making no secret of the fact that he was studying Liadan’s figure with an insolence that made her furious. Biting back her indignation, Liadan found herself urgently needing to be back inside the house, ensconced in the warmth and safety of the kitchen, and tackling the list of jobs she had ahead of her for the day. Something about Steven Ferrers put her on edge and she decided that in future she would endeavour to keep contact with him to a strict minimum.

‘Bit of a slave-driver, our Mr Jacobs. Don’t you be letting him wear you out with all that housework, Miss Willow. Those pretty hands of yours were meant for finer things than pushing a vacuum cleaner around.’

Considering that her hands were still firmly inside her bright orange gloves, Liadan failed to see how he could judge them and was irked that a man she had only seconds before clapped eyes on made so free with his comments. George too, it seemed, had had his patience stretched beyond endurance. ‘That’s enough, Steven! Have you forgotten who pays your wages round here? You treat Mr Jacobs and anyone who works for him with respect, you hear?’

Turning to Liadan, he scratched his head briefly beneath his cap and shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. ‘I apologise for my son’s behaviour, Miss Willow. He meant no harm, I’m sure, but he gets a little carried away sometimes. Please don’t take offence.’

Feeling for the man’s embarrassment, Liadan didn’t hesitate to give him a reassuring smile. ‘None taken, Mr Ferrers. Well…I’d better be getting back to the house. Work to do.’

‘Be seeing you around, Miss Willow.’ With a smirk on his face that Liadan longed to obliterate with a sharp slap, Steven Ferrers deliberately dropped his gaze to her chest before she turned and walked away. A shiver skating down her spine, she hurried out of the greenhouse, not pausing to glance back even once before reaching the steps of the main house.



‘Come in and be quick about it!’

Her spine knotting with tension and her palms prickly with heat, Liadan pushed open the door of the study and entered the room with the tray of sandwiches and coffee she had brought for Adrian’s lunch. If she’d hoped that the five-star breakfast she’d served him this morning had mellowed his mood, then she was obviously going to be disappointed judging by the scowl on his face. She’d taken such care with the sandwiches she’d made, too, cutting the bread into perfect triangles and decorating them with sprigs of parsley and slices of tomato. But he barely acknowledged her presence, too preoccupied with the papers strewn across his writing table, his black hair obviously ruffled by his restless fingers as he worked. ‘Leave the tray on the piano,’ he barked, and continued to work as though she were already gone.

Was she so wrong to expect some common courtesies from him, such as please and thank you? Liadan didn’t think so. It seriously bothered her that he seemed to imagine that he was somehow outside the realms of what was considered polite for everyone else. But even though she was deeply annoyed by his ill manners, she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t aware of the distinct chill in the air and it wasn’t just Adrian’s icy demeanour that was the cause. The fire had all but gone out, leaving just the barest red glow in its dying embers. In all conscience, Liadan couldn’t walk away without doing something about it.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Adrian snapped as she swept past his chair instead of heading for the door.

‘I thought I’d fix the fire. It’s nearly out and it’s chilly in here. I’ll try not to disturb you.’

Didn’t she know that that was impossible? Adrian thought with profound irritation. She was wearing that fragrance again, the one that seemed to wind itself round his senses and interrupt his train of thought like some kind of confounded will-o’-the-wisp. It seemed to mock and tease him, and tempt him to become far more aware than was wise of the woman who wore it. As if compelled, he lifted his gaze helplessly to her hair, noting the soft but precarious bun she’d fashioned, with a few silky red-gold tendrils floating loose to frame her lovely face. She really had the prettiest cornflower-blue eyes he’d ever seen, Adrian realised. What had he been thinking of, hiring such a looker for his housekeeper? He’d told himself hiring her had been the path of least resistance—Kate was leaving and he couldn’t interrupt his work to ring round agencies to find other people to interview. She’d said she was hardworking and for some reason Adrian had believed her. She didn’t look the type whose lips would lie easily. But now he couldn’t help wondering if he’d made a serious mistake in taking her on.

It had been four and a half years since his disastrous short-lived affair with Petra Collins—the one that had hit the tabloid headlines and hastened his decision to retreat from the world for a while. But clearly, if the way his libido was acting up around Liadan was any indication, he had been without a woman for too long.

‘Leave it.’

‘Why?’ Her heart racing, because suddenly she seemed to have his full and disturbing attention and she was ill-prepared for it, Liadan came to an abrupt standstill.

‘Because I’m working and I don’t want to be disturbed any more than is strictly necessary! I can’t have you clattering about in here while I’m trying to concentrate.’

‘Clattering about?’ Her cheeks growing pinker by the second as indignation cramped her throat, Liadan stared. ‘I was concerned for your comfort, that’s all. I wasn’t trying to make a nuisance of myself. Have you any idea what the temperature is outside?’

‘When I want a weather report I’ll switch on the news.’

Tearing her gaze from his stony expression, Liadan headed straight for the double doors, her heart pounding so hard inside her chest that for a moment she was hardly aware of where she was, let alone her destination. ‘Fine!’ she burst out before she left. ‘Freeze to death for all I care!’

Back in the kitchen, her appetite gone, she pushed away the small decorative sideplate with her sandwiches on to stare miserably down at the small bumps and grooves on the big pine table, willing herself to calm down. Just who did he think he was, speaking to her like that? They weren’t back in the Middle Ages as far as she knew and she wasn’t some serf to be bossed about at will, as if her life were not her own! It would serve him right if she walked out right this minute. See how he would cope if he had to do his own cooking and cleaning and make up fires! If there were any justice in the world he’d starve and get hypothermia very quickly…

She took her frustration out on the table and thumped it. Why did she have to recall just then that Michael had disliked it immensely when she lost her temper? It had pointed to a wild nature, in his opinion, one that he wasn’t altogether certain he could handle. Liadan groaned. Michael had been wary of anything emotional that might tip the precarious balance of an existence where order and restraint were paramount, so obviously losing one’s temper was a complete no-no. When he’d finally admitted he couldn’t commit to Liadan because his faith was calling him in another direction, one that she couldn’t be a part of, she’d been relieved but angry too. She’d long realised that the relationship hadn’t been going anywhere but she’d stupidly put her own life on hold for eighteen months while Michael had wrestled with his own decisions about the future.

And then two months after the break-up—to add insult to injury—Liadan had learned that she no longer had a job because her employer had gone bankrupt. Now it looked as if she’d be unemployed again very soon…

‘Liadan.’

Glancing up at her name, she rested her wary gaze on Adrian’s tall, imposing figure in the doorway.

‘What?’ She steeled herself to hear the worst. Without a doubt he was going to give her her marching orders. The only consolation was that she would see her cat sooner than she’d anticipated and be able to make a fuss of her tonight. Oh, well…‘always look for the gift,’ as Jennie, the owner of Moonbeams, had wisely counselled on more than one occasion.

‘I’d be grateful if you’d come back into the study and make up the fire. You’re right. It’s bloody cold in there and even I can’t type with frozen fingers.’ He was smiling and suddenly Liadan found her breathing and her power of speech seriously impeded. Having the power of that smile trained on her was like diving for seashells and coming up with diamonds. Did the man have any idea how much that simple act humanised him? It made him seem much less like the coldly distant character she was getting used to and so much…dared she say it? Warmer.

‘You’re not going to fire me?’

‘Now why would you think that?’ Apparently bemused, Adrian leant his shoulder against the doorjamb as if the imperative to get back to work was no longer relevant.

‘Because I lost my temper.’ She heaved a sigh and Adrian’s already engaged glance was drawn to the shapely swell of her breasts beneath her black ribbed sweater. Because her waist was so small, it highlighted her well-endowed chest, and, before he knew what he was about, Adrian imagined those same shapely breasts filling his palms. He imagined his thumbs brushing sensuously across her nipples, urging them to tight, hard, sexy peaks, and suddenly his vivid daydreaming led him into deep hot water when he found himself irrevocably and heavily aroused.

‘As far as I’m aware that’s hardly a sacking offence—particularly when I provoked it.’ His desire had made his voice unwittingly smoky.

Unable to tear her gaze from his, Liadan urged herself to her feet, willing herself to wake up from the trance she seemed to be in.

‘I’ll go and see to the fire, then.’

Alarmed by the sudden, dangerously provocative turn of his thoughts, Adrian dropped his glance guiltily to the table, seeing the small plate of sandwiches she had made. ‘Eat your lunch first. A few more minutes won’t make much difference. Thank you, Liadan.’ And with that, he was gone from the doorway before she even had a chance to reply.



Closing the curtains in her room, Liadan went suddenly rigid when she spied torchlight moving stealthily down the front steps towards the gardens. Adrian? She squinted hard to try and see. What was he doing out at this hour? The small old-fashioned clock on her mantelpiece had just struck midnight so it was a bit late for going for a walk, wasn’t it? Shivering in her velour robe because the heating had gone off for the night, she quickly moved away from the window and glanced disconsolately at the thick, hard-backed biography on her bed. Right now, reading held no appeal whatsoever and she didn’t feel much like sleeping, either. Astonishing when she considered how dog-tired she had been this morning. For some reason her whole body was restless, thrumming with energy and the need to expend it somehow.

If she was honest, she had been feeling that way since Adrian had smiled at her at lunchtime. His changes of mood were disconcerting and she didn’t know whether to allow herself to believe he did possess a more amenable side after all, or whether he’d simply decided to make an effort in case Liadan decided staying wasn’t worth the trouble. His work was obviously all-consuming—he wouldn’t want to have to break off from it to start searching for a replacement housekeeper, no matter how disappointing his present one seemed. And yet…When all was said and done the man was definitely an enigma, and the main reason that Liadan couldn’t sleep was that she was becoming more curious about her ill-tempered, good-looking employer than was probably wise.



Walking through the gardens, his feet sliding and crunching on the snow-covered earth, Adrian finally felt he could breathe unencumbered once more. It didn’t matter how big the house was or how many rooms it had—at times like these he simply needed the unconfined space of the outside. Only then would the prickling discomfort in his chest ease and his ensuing panic start to subside. It had been that way ever since Nicole’s death and after eight years he wasn’t holding out much hope for a change. What made him furious was that he didn’t seem to have any control over his claustrophobia. It wasn’t as if he spent every day dwelling on the terrible event that had indelibly shaped his future, but still the condition seemed to descend on him out of the blue. His psychologist friend, Andrew, had told him he mustn’t blame himself and had tried to teach him strategies for coping. But Adrian hadn’t wanted strategies, or advice—no matter how well meant. He simply wanted the ability to turn back time: to sit in the Jeep for a few minutes longer with Nicole on that mercilessly hot day and prevent her from going anywhere near the embassy gates.

Turning in the dark to stare at the huge house in front of him, with just one or two lights on downstairs and one shining from the first floor—Liadan’s room—Adrian knew he didn’t really want to stay here for the rest of his life. However long that was. On this freezing winter’s night, when the only sound to disturb the silence was the distant, repetitive hooting of an owl, Adrian yearned for warmer climes and the hot tropical nights of Kenya, his boyhood home. Instead of owls hooting, he suddenly longed for the sound of rasping cicadas and the short, warm rains that fell from October to December. Anything but this dead, lifeless snow that made him feel as though he were encased in a tomb…



‘Can I help you?’

Dropping her basket of laundry in the hall behind her, Liadan pushed some hair out of her eyes, smoothed a hand down her jeans and smiled pleasantly at the smartly dressed blonde who stood on the doorstep.

‘I’d like to see Adrian, if I may?’

The woman was clearly about to step inside without being invited, her too-heady perfume was as pushy as she was, and as Liadan’s eyes locked on her brittle blue gaze she suddenly recalled Kate’s dire warning about reporters trying to inveigle their way in to get interviews with Adrian. Resolved to do everything in her power to prevent any unwanted invasion of her boss’s privacy, Liadan quickly stood in front of the woman to block her entrance, her heart missing a beat at this unexpected confrontation.

‘Do you have an appointment with Mr Jacobs?’

‘He’ll see me. My name is Cheryl Kendall. Tell him I’ve had some new information about his affair with Petra Collins. Tell him I’m going to go ahead and print it unless he gives me an interview.’

Two reactions hit Liadan simultaneously. First, how much she despised the woman’s blackmailing tactics, and second, the name Petra Collins. Five years ago she had been one of the hottest properties in Hollywood, a beautiful raven-haired actress with a widely publicised taste for high living and seriously wealthy men. It was well known that since then her career hadn’t prospered. Her last film had been three years ago, and that had been a resounding flop at the box office. If the papers were to be believed, the latest news was that she was in some fancy drying-out clinic in California, getting help for her alcoholism. Liadan didn’t read the papers much herself but her friends Jennie and Mel were avid consumers of the gossip columns.

‘I’ll tell him no such thing! Now, please just go. Mr Jacobs is working and he doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s—’

‘It’s okay, Liadan. I’ll speak with Ms Kendall.’

She spun round in surprise at his voice, and her limbs went strangely weak at the sight of her employer. He was dressed in his usual black; the silver in his hair seemed even more eye-catching against his otherwise sable locks and his eyes were very dark and grave. Weary, almost. The wave of sympathy that rushed through Liadan couldn’t be tamped.

‘I’ll give you five minutes, ten at the most. Come into my study.’ His voice curt, Adrian waited briefly for Cheryl Kendall to step inside before striding ahead of her down the corridor.

The stop-start hum of the dryer resounding in her ears, Liadan folded the pile of clothing she had already dried on top of the washing machine, her movements automatic and efficient even as her mind was distracted. Both curious and concerned about the conversation that was going on upstairs right now in Adrian’s study, she prayed that Cheryl Kendall’s paper or magazine, whatever it was, was not going to print anything injurious or wounding to him. How had Adrian come to meet the famous actress in the first place, and why had their affair ended? Had Petra found him as cold as he appeared? Had she ever managed to get past some of those impenetrable layers that Adrian so obviously protected himself with?

The thought made Liadan stop what she was doing and stare unseeingly ahead. How had she known that? Adrian Jacobs had been deeply wounded—maybe beyond repair—and now strove to do everything in his power to prevent himself from ever being so badly hurt again. One only had to read his books to know that he was a man who had delved deeply into the realms of his own shadow. You’d have to have spent a lot of time exploring the darker side of the human psyche to come up with some of the twisted and terrifying plots that Adrian came up with in his work. And Liadan’s summing-up of what she’d read had been right. There were no redeeming solutions for the human condition in his stories. Not even the merest flicker of light.

‘Liadan? Where are you?’

Hearing him call her name, Liadan put her hands up to quell the sudden rush of heat in her cheeks, took a moment to compose herself, then ran up the back stairs into the open hallway to find him waiting for her.





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