Книга - Dangerous Discovery

Dangerous Discovery
Laura Martin


You're the most infuriating, unpredictable woman I've ever had the misfortune to meet!And with those devastating words Hunter Deveraux made his opinion of Estelle all too clear. She did her best to stay out of his way after that, even though she thought Hunter was the most exciting man she'd ever met–after all, she did have a baby to consider. Of course, when Estelle started to work for Hunter, avoiding him just wasn't possible. But why–if Estelle found Hunter so attractive–did she have to avoid him at all?







“Right, that’s enough!” (#u6ad85b61-9d87-5ed9-9696-49cb46343f2b)About the Author (#ud9a389d3-b81e-5a1d-bad1-7252414fc7e5)Title Page (#ub35478f5-367a-5f47-ab7d-27177a39f050)CHAPTER ONE (#u444e9777-bcb2-5e7d-ab00-f0b83415bcbe)CHAPTER TWO (#uf5a777bf-306d-53e5-baeb-7521ef7f37e5)CHAPTER THREE (#ucc7e528d-10ae-5565-8377-8b866c6ce99b)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


“Right, that’s enough!”

“What are you talking about?” Estelle released a shaky breath.

“I’m talking about misunderstandings and miserable afternoons!” Hunter announced through gritted teeth. “I’m talking about my decision to put a stop to this ridiculous behavior! You’re being childish!”

“Me? Childish!” Estelle turned to face him, outraged by the sheer injustice of his remark. “I can’t believe you’ve got the gall to come here and say that after what you’ve put me through!”


Laura Martin lives in a small Gloucestershire village in England with her husband, two young children and a lively sheepdog! Laura has a great love of interior design and, together with her husband, has recently completed the renovation of their Victorian cottage. Her hobbies include gardening, the theater, music and reading, and she finds great pleasure and inspiration from walking daily in the beautiful countryside around her home.




Dangerous Discovery

Laura Martin







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


CHAPTER ONE

ESTELLE lowered the branch a fraction and peered cautiously through the lush green leaves. The voices had made her curious, and despite the thudding of her heart and the sick, nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach she had found herself hopping over the debris of the crumbling red brick wall, and carefully, oh, so carefully, picking her way through the tangle of undergrowth to gaze at the scene ahead.

It was like something out of a film; shimmering candles, sparkling evening dresses on glamorous women, offset handsomely by the luxurious darkness of the men’s dinner-jackets and the deep green of the shrubbery that clothed the walls of the ancient old manor house behind. Another world, another lifestyle. Light-years away from all that Estelle had ever experienced.

Instinctively she knew who Hunter Deveraux was; Connie’s brief but passionate description could apply to no one else. Tall and dark, with a brooding, imposing presence that arrested Estelle’s attention, that made her own breath catch automatically in her throat, made her stomach turn a weird and inexplicable somersault...

He sat at the head of the long table on the terrace, his fingers curled expansively around a glass, surveying the sophisticated ensemble before him with a cool, almost detached eye.

He was more handsome than she had expected— more handsome than any man she had ever set eyes on; in his late twenties, she guessed, black hair, a bone-structure that could be called nothing less than superb, broad, muscular shoulders... Estelle gulped a breath and found herself conscious of the fact that there was more to his physical presence than simply stunning good looks. Even from this distance, she could sense some indefinable quality, an aura of superiority and authority that was evident in every slight inclination of his head, every murmured word and slow; lazy smile.

I hate him. The utter certainty of the statement, of the knowledge, shocked Estelle as it flew unbidden into her head. She had allowed herself no feelings on the subject of Hunter up to this point. She had valiantly refused to apportion blame. His was just a name in a diary, a name that now she wished she had not discovered. Her sister Connie, she imagined, had chosen the way she wanted things to be, had decided to keep his identity secret for reasons best known only to herself. But now, being here, this close, feeling, seeing, knowing the sort of man he was, detecting the open arrogance and the smouldering vitality...

Estelle shook her head a little and released a slow, steadying breath. I must not get emotional, she told herself. I must not jump to conclusions. I must stay calm and detached and think everything through properly.

She gazed down at the soft downy head as it stirred against her chest, carefully adjusting the baby sling, which was useful but becoming far too small for such a thriving, bouncing baby, to a more comfortable position, and knew with all her heart that that was impossible. The resemblance was there, of course: the startling coal-black eyes and uniquely shaped mouth that were so often commented on by friends and smiling women in the street,

She heaved a tense sigh and closed her eyes for a brief moment. Innocent, sleeping Joseph was irrevocably tied to the dynamic vision of the man that now sat less than thirty feet from her. Hunter, the father of this helpless baby—no wonder Connie had remained silent.

‘I won’t have that sort of talk at my table, Josh! You’re speaking out of turn and you know it!’

Estelle’s eyes flew back towards the house. Hunter had risen from his seat. Both hands were placed square on the table, every sharp line of his body portraying anger as he leaned forward and pinioned some poor devil with an expression that caused Estelle to catch her breath and shake in her shoes even at this distance.

‘Well? Do I get an apology?’

That voice. Estelle bit nervously at her bottom lip. So raw, so harsh and unforgiving. I must go, she thought swiftly, wrappng her arms protectively around Joseph’s plump body. I shouldn’t be here. If he finds me... The thought didn’t bear thinking about but still she lingered, watching, transfixed by the atmosphere, mesmerised by this man’s dominance over his guests, aware of startled faces, hastily apologetic words from the man who, for one reason or another, had caused so much displeasure from his host.

And then Hunter was picking up his glass, throwing his dark head back to down the amber-coloured liquid in one savage gulp, scraping his chair roughly out of the way and... Estelle’s eyes grew wide with horror, her body stiffening with complete shock...and then marching across the smooth impeccable green expanse of lawn towards the little copse of trees. Towards her.

She turned sharply away, ducking under the low branches, cursing silently as her foot caught on a protruding root, causing her to stumble awkwardly through the carpet of dead leaves and old moss-covered logs. She was going too fast, making too much noise. Her footsteps had been slow before, picking their path carefully. Now they fumbled their way through, clumsily cracking first one and then another twig beneath her feet so that the noise sounded like gunshots in the still evening air.

And then, worst of all, Joseph’s startled wail, sounding like a siren as she stumbled again, turning Estelle cold with panic as she hastily scrabbled through the undergrowth towards the broken-down brick wall.

‘Hold it right there!’

She pulled up sharply at the sound of the commanding voice, rigid with anxiety, and waited, not daring to turn around, but knowing with all certainty that this deep, forceful bark could only belong to one man.

Hunter Deveraux.

‘Now turn around.’

Estelle hesitated, closing her eyes in despair, wondering if she dared defy him, dared run on jellied legs to her bicycle which was parked down at the roadside and only a few tantalising feet away.

She didn’t. With a thudding heart and a protective squeeze of Joseph’s warm body, she turned and prepared herself to meet the full force of Hunter’s gaze.

His eyes were like deepest night, dark and impenetrable, fixing her to the spot with cool dislike. He surveyed her with an expression that revealed open suspicion, his glance slowly taking in every inch of her face, her slim, lithe figure, scanning her tousled auburn locks and creamy complexion, causing a hot flush of panic and fear as his eyes rested fleetingly on Joseph’s plump body.

At last he deigned to speak and his voice was as cold and as hard as she had expected. ‘You do know you’re trespassing on private property, I presume?’

Estelle took a shaky breath and then gave a brief nod.

‘For what purpose?’

She swallowed, licking at her lips in a totally nervous gesture, fully aware of the disruptive, mind-numbing force of his presence. She found her eyes wandering of their own accord over the sharp, crisp outline of his suit, lingering on the stunning eyes, the hard, tight line of his mouth...she found herself wondering how it had been between this man and Connie, how the seemingly impossible had come about...

‘Did you hear what I said?’

Estelle jumped at the insistent tone, backing away a little towards the wall. He looked angry, standing there, so menacing and forceful. ‘I...I...’ She struggled to think with a mind that refused to work. What could she say? What would appease this man and get her off his property and out of his sight in the shortest possible time?

Swiftly she decided that the truth, or at least the beginnings of the truth, were her best and only bet. ‘I...I just saw the gap in the wall, heard the voices...’ Her pitifully small voice, husky with tension, trailed to a feeble halt. Did she really expect a man like Hunter to be satisfied with so inadequate an explanation?

.‘And that’s the best you can do?’

She saw the derisive curl of his mouth, heard the disbelieving tone. ‘I...I just wanted to see—’

‘So you were watching us through the trees?’ His voice was like a razor, cutting her dead. The dark brows drew together suspiciously. ‘Come on! Is that what you’re trying to tell me?’

Estelle scuffed her feet awkwardly on the ground. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any harm. It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing.’ She gulped a breath. ‘Now...please, I...I really think I should be getting back—’ On shaking legs she turned determinedly towards the crumbling wall and began to step over the fallen branch but immediately found her arm gripped firmly by a hand that was large and strong and totally immovable.

‘Not so fast, young lady. You’re going to give me a better explanation than that!’ He brought his other free hand around and tilted Estelle’s chin up, so that she had no choice other than to look straight into the dark, disconcerting eyes. ‘Now tell me what exactly is going on here.’

His fingers were cool and firm against her skin and yet heat surged through her body at an alarming rate as he held Estelle’s face captive. He had, she noted absently, the most luxuriant black lashes, a tiny scar just visible on his brow-bone, fine lines around the corners of his eyes that surely could never in this world have been caused by laughter...

‘Well? Answer me!’

’N-nothing!‘ Estelle’s voice gave away her desperation as she tore her frantic eyes from his face. ‘Nothing at all! Please, if you’ll just let me go—’

‘I think not,’ he replied tersely. ‘You may imagine playing the innocent will get you out of this situation, but fluttering your eyelashes and acting the startled little girl isn’t going to work with me.’

‘Will you let go of me this instant?’ Estelle cried despairingly, unable to endure the close and telling appraisal a moment longer. ‘You have no right to treat me like this! No right at all!’

‘I have every right,’ came the clipped reply, ‘and don’t you forget it. Privacy in my own home, above everything else, is sacrosanct, and I take a very dim view of anyone who enters my property without permission. Do I make myself clear?’

Estelle concentrated hard on the ground at her feet and nodded dumbly.

‘Look at me!’ The command was quiet and menacing and she jerked her head up sharply to find jet eyes boring into her. ‘Do I make myself clear?’

‘Look, I never meant any harm—’ Estelle began.

‘And how am I to know that that is the truth?’ he enquired sharply. ‘You may look like a sweet, innocent young female, but you’re as nervous as hell and you have an expression that looks as if it has something to hide!’ He paused a second and his eyes fell on the route Estelle had used to get in. ‘That’s quite a steep climb up here from the road below; it must have been difficult with a baby in tow. You were quite determined to get up here, weren’t you? Weren’t you?’ he repeated insistently, pulling Estelle firmly away from the wall.

‘I...I told you before, I was just curious.’

‘To see what? Come on!’ he added irritably. ‘Start talking. Tell me what it was that interested you so much you had to scrabble up a bank and battle your way over a wall, through fallen-down trees—’

‘I’ve told you!’ Estelle’s voice sounded shaky. Joseph wasn’t crying any more—indeed she suspected he had seemingly done the impossible and gone back to sleep—but she felt near to tears herself. ‘Now please! I just want to go home.’

‘And you will do,’ Hunter replied with a coolness that made Estelle shiver, ‘once you tell me why you were spying on myself and my guests.’

‘I was not spyingl’ she cried swiftly. ‘That sounds so...so dreadful.’

‘What would you call it, then?’

The flush- on Estelle’s face grew hotter and more intense. She was shocked by the hard determination in his expression and stared open-mouthed for several seconds as words and explanations were considered and disregarded at speed. ‘Stop bullying me!’ she cried frantically. ‘Just because you’ve had an argument with one of your guests and you’re in a bad mood—’

It was not the best thing to say. Estelle realised that as soon as she saw Hunter’s grim expression. ‘Right, that’s it!’ he barked. ‘This way.’

Estelle jerked sharply as his fingers scorched the skin of her bare arm in a determined grasp. ‘Take your hands off me! You can’t do this!’

‘I’m doing it,’ he informed her flatly. ‘Now come with me. You’ve managed to arouse my worst instincts. I think it’s best if perhaps the police take an interest in what you do or rather don’t have to say.’

‘You...you wouldn’t! You can’t be serious?’ Estelle’s eyes widened, portraying all of her anxiety and horror.

‘Why not?’ he replied coolly. ‘After all there have been a spate of break-ins and burglaries in this area. How am I to know that you’re not part of some organised gang on a recce of the premises?’

Estelle snorted and threw him a look that showed all of her disbelief. ‘But that’s absolutely ridiculous!’ she cried. ‘I’ve got a baby with me and I came on a bicycle—they’re hardly the hallmarks of a successful thief, are they? And...and anyway,’ she continued angrily, ‘how dare you insinuate that I’m anything other than honest? It’s...it’s preposterous!’ She felt her eyes, wide with outright anger now, filling with tears and hastily lowered her head so that Hunter wouldn’t detect her weakness.

‘Come on back to the house!’ His voice was firm. ‘And you can stop crying! Turning on the waterworks isn’t going to make the slightest bit of difference to me. I’m a hard bastard at the best of times, and as you so rightly pointed out I’m already in a foul mood, so—’

‘I am not crying!’ Estelle snapped furiously, raising her face to his. ‘I’m angry. I’m disgusted. I can’t believe you’re treating me like this. But I’m not crying.’

‘Good!’ he retorted crisply, his dark eyes fiashing. ‘Because I can’t stand women who start snivelling at the drop of a hat.’

‘You have no right to do this to me!’ Estelle declared frantically, totally at a loss as to how to stop him leading her firmly in the direction of the house, apart from resorting to drastic measures like screaming and kicking. ‘No right at all!’

‘Be quiet,’ he commanded, ‘and follow me! You knowingly trespassed on my property and now you are going to have to face the consequences.’

Estelle despaired as the eyes of his many guests turned and burned into her fragile figure as she was escorted across the lawn towards the terrace. They had, she detected through lowered lashes, risen from the long, crystal-laden table and were now standing or sitting in various informal groups watching her. with expressions that ranged from one of intrigued amusement to frank astonishment.

‘Stop treating me like a criminal!’ Estelle hissed desperately. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. You can’t do this to me!’

‘You’ve trespassed and I’m doing it,’ Hunter replied with not a trace of remorse. ‘Now be quiet.’

He ignored his guests and led Estelle firmly by the arm in through the side of the house, along an elegant, wide hallway with a polished wooden floor, through a door into a large kitchen.

‘Mrs McCormack?’ The deep voice was still as terse and uncompromising as ever, although the comfortable-looking woman who removed her head from a cupboard and bustled over to the two of them with an enquiring, homely smile didn’t, Estelle noted, seem in the least perturbed by it. ‘Mrs McCormack,’ Hunter repeated, ‘would you be so kind as to keep your eye on this lady until I return? My guests are about to leave, so I’ll be back shortly. If there’s anything she wants in the way of food or drink you may give it to her, but don’t allow her to leave. On second thoughts,’ he added with a grim expression, glancing at Estelle’s mutinous face, I’ll lock the door. That way there will be no possibility of escape.’

Estelle stood for several seconds in stunned silence after the door was firmly clicked shut and a key was noisily turned in the lock, hardly able to believe that this was actually happening, that this man had actually dared to do this to her.

She glanced disbelievingly across at Mrs McCormack, who was watching her astonished expression with a certain amount of sympathy. ‘I don’t...’ Estelle shook her head, almost lost for words. ‘Is he always like this?’ she asked faintly.

‘Well, he does have his moments.’ The elderly woman gave a little chuckle, and gently stroked Joseph’s soft cheek with a gnarled finger. ‘But don’t worry, my dear,’ she added knowingly, ‘his bark is much worse than his bite.’ She cooed over Joseph for a moment and then released a short sigh and glanced thoughtfully at the closed door. ‘Mind you, he hasn’t been in too good a humour for a long while now,’ she murmured, almost to herself. ‘His father died a bit back, you see,’ she explained, glancing across at Estelle, ‘and there have been business and family pressures and such like for him to contend with... girlfriend problems too, I’ve no doubt.’ The woman glanced guiltily away, placing a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, but listen to me,’ she muttered, shaking her head. ‘I’m talking too much as usual, and you a perfect stranger.’ She moved over to the glossy red range and continued with her cleaning. ‘Well, whatever it is you’ve done, my dear, you seem to have put him in quite a temper, that’s for sure.’

‘But I haven’t done anything!’ Estelle placed a weary hand across her eyes and moved to one of the chairs tucked around the large oak refectory table that dominated the room. ‘Or at least nothing that merits the humiliating treatment he’s imposed on me now!’ She sat down, glad of the chance to rest her and Joseph’s weight for a while, and tried to think of what she could possibly do to get herself out of this dreadful mess.

‘But you must have done something,’ Mrs McCormack insisted, moving to the sink to rinse her cloth. ‘I know he’s got quite a temper on him, but Hunter’s not the sort to persecute innocent young women. Especially such a pretty thing as yourself.’

‘Oh, no?’ Estelle shook her head. ‘Look, all I did was nip over a bit of a wall and peep through some bushes for a moment or two. I didn’t mean any harm. Heavens, if I’d have known he would react like this...!’ She raised pleading eyes to the old woman’s face. ‘I was trespassing, I know,’ she added quietly, ‘but he’s practically accused of me of casing the place for a future robbery! And that’s absolutely ridiculous! Is the man totally paranoid or what?’

‘For your information I am not in the least paranoid. Just suspicious.’

His deep, gravelly voice startled her. Estelle jerked her head around and saw that Hunter was observing her from another doorway at the far end of the room, leaning nonchalantly on the jamb, watching her with an expression that was still full of cool dislike.

‘Have you someone waiting for you at home?’

‘No!’ Estelle’s voice was as clipped and cold as his own.

‘You live alone?’ He moved into the room and indicated with a brisk nod of his head that Mrs McCormack was free to go.

‘Maybe.’ Estelle eyed him suspiciously as he sat opposite her and wished she hadn’t revealed her position quite so swiftly. ‘Look, you can’t keep me here like this,’ she added bravely, ‘just because I made the mistake of wandering on to your property! I have to get home; Joseph will want to be fed soon—’ Her valiantly determined voice halted abruptly and she glanced self-consciously down at the angelic face. She hadn’t meant to even so much as refer to Joseph in this man’s presence and here she was already blurting out his name, drawing attention to the child!

The thought of this man ever finding out the truth filled her with horror now, whereas at one time—this morning, even two hours ago—she had, in her desperation, considered revealing all, asking him for help... I must have been mad, she thought bitterly, all too aware of the ruthless masculine presence just a few feet from her—absolutely mad! To tell this man he’s Joseph’s father? Estelle released a nervous breath. Even thinking that fact now, here, right in front of him, left her weak with worry. A ruthless man such as this would either disown the whole idea and have nothing to do with it or—and this was what made Estelle really feel nervous—or he would take complete control, find some way to remove his son and heir from the guardianship of a young, single girl such as herself. The fact that she was Joseph’s aunt, the fact that she had been caring for the child for the last three months, would mean absolutely nothing...

‘Hardly wandered.’ He reclined back in his chair, surveying Estelle with eyes that rooted her to the seat, as she focused properly on what he was saying. ‘As I pointed out before, the incline up from the road is pretty steep; I’m sure wandering didn’t come into it.’

Estelle struggled to keep her thoughts under strict control and thanked the lord that mind-reading hadn’t yet been conquered by the human race—or at least she hoped it hadn’t. ‘OK, so I’m incredibly nosy!’ she shot back snappily. ‘I fancied seeing how the other half lives for a change. But that still doesn’t give you the right to hold me here like this as if I’m a criminal.’

‘Where do you live?’

‘What?’ Her green eyes narrowed suspiciously.

‘You heard me—I asked where you live. Locally, I presume, if the bicycle and the baby are anything to go by.’

‘Why do you want to know that?’ Estelle enquired nervously, put off, as he surely intended her to be, by the sudden change of tack. ‘What’s that got to do with anything—whether I live locally or not?’

Hunter pulled- back his cuff and a flash of gold was revealed at his wrist. ‘It’s almost ten and it’s getting dark,’ he drawled. ‘You’re going to need a lift home.’

‘From you?’ Estelle’s expression showed surprise, followed swiftly by a mixture of panic and concern.

‘That’s right.’ He stood up and flexed his broad shoulders in a movement that revealed all of his latent power, seemingly unaware of her astonishment and confusion. ‘You do wish to go home, I presume?’

Estelle scraped back the chair and stood up swiftly. ‘Yes, but...but not with you! And anyway,’ she added stiffly, ‘what about the police?’ Her voice hardened as she remembered the panic his threats had invoked. ‘I thought you were keen to see me in custody at the very least.’

Hunter released a sigh that portrayed a mixture of tiredness, boredom and complete indifference. ‘Let’s just say I’ve changed my mind. You caught me-or rather I caught you,’ he amended with a wry twist of his mouth that for some crazy reason sent a flash of awareness through Estelle’s body, ‘at a bad moment. I don’t, on reflection,’ he continued, ‘think your crime merits Special Branch attention, not unless I find you trespassing again, of course; then I might have to reconsider. But for now—’

‘Well, that’s mighty good of you!’ Estelle snapped, aggravated beyond endurance by the mocking twist of his mouth, his total callous attitude towards her, by the fact that, despite everything, she couldn’t help but be aware of him as a man, couldn’t help but feel the power and the sensuality that was all wrapped up among the steel and the rough, sharp edges. He surely is, she thought swiftly, the most dangerous male package I have ever set eyes on. ‘You...you keep me locked in here like a prisoner,’ she continued shakily, ‘and now you stand there, telling me you’ve thought better of it and then have the gall to offer me a lift home—’ She halted abruptly at the warning expression on Hunter’s face and wondered where on earth she had found the nerve to speak so aggressively. ‘Well, thank you,’ she added crisply, instantly aware that it would be foolish to pursue her belligerent tone a moment longer, ‘but I do not require a lift. I have my bicycle and it’s only a short distance into the village from here.’

‘Your bike, I’m sorry to say, seems to have developed a puncture,’ he drawled with an infuriating lack of concern. ‘I sent someone to retrieve it and it is now resting securely in the boot of my car. So you see,’ he added smoothly, turning towards her with an expression that dared her to defy, ‘you have little choice in the matter but to accept my more than gracious offer.’

Estelle clenched her teeth together and tried with all her might to look as if she was capable of taking control of the situation. ‘But I want to walk,’ she repeated.

‘What you want I’m afraid doesn’t come into the equation. I am insisting you accept a lift,’ he replied calmly. ‘You have to travel on some pretty lonely roads. Never let it be said that I allowed a defenceless young girl with a baby to walk or ride alone on a dark night.’

‘I’ll be quite all right,’ Estelle persisted doggedly. ‘It’s barely dusk and anyway I don’t—’

‘Stop arguing, child!’ It was a bark that would have forced everyone except the most stupid into silence. He turned away, loosening the tie at his neck with an irritated tug. ‘The matter’s not open for discussion. ‘Now remove that panic-stricken expression from your face and follow me.’


CHAPTER TWO

‘IF YOU’LL just stop the car right here,’ Estelle murmured, anxiously waiting for the first moment at which she could alight and escape.

Hunter brought the Jaguar to a smooth halt outside the second-hand clothes shop and turned off the ignition with a swift glance at the rather shabby exterior of the building. ‘You live here?’

‘Yes.’ Estelle turned a defiant face towards him. ‘Why? Do you have some sort of a problem with this vicinity?’

‘No. I have no problem.’ He gave a clearly dismissive shrug, his glance holding and matching Estelle’s robust gaze with ease. ‘I was merely asking a straightforward question, that was all.’ He opened the door. ‘I’ll get your bike out.’

Estelle followed him around to the back of the car and tried to wrest the aged but trustworthy contraption from his grasp as soon as it had been placed on the ground. ‘Thank you for the lift,’ she said pointedly, aware that his hands were still firmly clasping the handlebars. ‘I can take it from here.’

‘You live above the shop?’ He glanced again at the less than salubrious surroundings, his eyes scanning the area with complete and utter efficiency, letting Estelle know with the length of his gaze that he had missed not one depressing detail. ‘I’ll wheel it over for you.’

‘Look, I don’t need your help!’ Estelle announced almost desperately. ‘I’m perfectly capable of pushing a bicycle by myself. Now if you don’t mind—’

It was too late. She might have known Hunter wouldn’t take the slightest bit of notice of her. She watched angrily for a second or two as he wheeled the bicycle around to the side-alley.

‘Here OK?’

She nodded, her lips pressed together firmly as his gaze swiftly took in the pile of old boxes and dustbins, the flight of steps that led to her chipped green front door, the general and utterly depressing ambience of the area.

Estelle, much to her own annoyance, felt the tears welling up inside again. How incongruous he looked standing there in his dark, expensive evening suit, casting observant, speculative eyes around, making her feel small and insecure and totally inadequate, she thought miserably. Oozing sophistication, while she stood, faded and shabby in her washed-out floral skirt and ancient leather sandals.

She swung away from him angrily, turning to rummage in the pocket of her cardigan for her key. Oh, what had possessed her even to consider going anywhere near him and his damned home? It had been a foolish, foolish whim born out of desperation. If only she hadn’t come across Connie’s diary, if only she had done the sensible thing and burnt it straight away. Estelle closed her eyes as those heart-rending sentences in Connie’s huge wild scrawl came swinging back into her mind.

As long as Hunter doesn’t find out about Joseph. I made such a mistake. I was such a fool to believe all the lies. But now at least something good has come out of my stupidity. I know Hunter too well. I don’t want him charging in, causing me more pain, more anguish. Haven’t I suffered enough already?

‘Have you got the key?’

She felt the cold metal against her fingers and nodded dumbly. I must not cry, she repeated silently over and over as she retrieved the key from her pocket. I must not get upset now. It’s not going to get me anywhere, going over and over what may have happened. There’s nothing I can do to bring Connie back.

Estelle climbed the steps, acutely aware of the fact that Hunter was following her. She turned at the door, raising herself to her full height. ‘I’ll be fine now,’ she informed him steadily, thankful for the dusky night which was closing in with every minute that passed, because he surely wouldn’t be able to see the sheen of wetness that had, despite her determination, formed on her cheeks. ‘Thank you for the lift but you’ve no need to waste your time with me any longer.’

‘I’ll wait until you’re safely inside,’ he replied evenly. ‘In this sort of neighbourhood it pays to be careful.’

‘And what do you mean by that?’ Estelle flashed irritably. ‘You make it sound as if there are rapists and muggers on every corner!’

‘You know very well what I mean,’ Hunter informed her lazily. ‘This end of the village has a reputation. There’s a pub around the corner that attracts the worst kind of drinkers. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard them when it’s throwing-out time and that you’re not the slightest bit nervous as they pass by your door on a Saturday night, because I won’t believe you for a moment.’

‘OK, so there are a few rowdies from time to time,’ she conceded snappily. ‘But that doesn’t automatically mean anything. And don’t think I didn’t see the look on your face when you first arrived here,’ she added, angry at his cool arrogance. ‘I know it’s a mess, I know it’s tatty, but I’m the one who lives here day in day out. I think I can judge better than anyone whether it’s safe for me or—’ Her voice came to an abrupt and sudden halt. She had been about to thrust the key angrily into the lock. Now she stared at the chipped front door that was already swinging open, at the splintered frame with its jagged edges and rough, angry scars.

‘What is it?’ Hunter’s deep voice was alert as he moved forward out of the semi-darkness.

Estelle, a small moan of frustration escaping from her lips, stood aside, wrapping her arms around Joseph’s body, watching despairingly as Hunter’s large, capable hands swiftly examined the door and the frame.

‘Stay here! I’ll check it out.’

‘But...what if—?’

‘Be quiet!’ His commanding voice was weirdly reassuring in the gloom. ‘Just stay here and don’t move.’

She watched, every part of her alert and on edge as Hunter opened the door wide and moved cautiously into her flat. What would she do if there was someone still in there? More to the point, if there were several of them what would Hunter do? However much she despised him, the possibility of some thug violently attacking Hunter filled her with horror.

After only a few short seconds he reappeared, and even in the failing light she could see that his expression was grim.

‘There’s no one here now.’ He flicked on the light switch by the door. ‘But I’m afraid you’re in for a bit of a shock. Come on, look for yourself.’ He took her hand and she knew automatically by the faintly reassuring squeeze and the strength of his grip that she must prepare herself for the worst.

Estelle stood motionless just inside the door and scanned the one large room that served as her and Joseph’s bedroom and living area with disbelieving and troubled eyes.

‘There are some pretty mean, low-down swines around, aren’t there?’

Estelle swallowed, aware of the hard, disgusted tone of Hunter’s voice as he stood beside her and surveyed the scene. She tried to reply but she couldn’t. Her eyes saw, but her mind didn’t want to register the mess and destruction that was facing her right at this moment.

‘Are you feeling OK?’

She heard Hunter’s deep voice and turned towards him, not aware of what he had said to her, not aware of anything at that moment except the agonising feeling of dreadful despair and desolation, the feeling of utter hopelessness that was so sharp and so strong.

‘Hey...’ He paused and gently twisted her towards him. ‘Look, I don’t even know your name. What is it?’

She felt his hands touch her shoulders, was aware of their strength and steadying firmness. ‘Estelle Rogers.’ It was a whispered reply. Her lips hardly moved. She stared blankly across at a wall where vivid slashes of red paint had been daubed in an incomprehensible mess.

‘Look, I’m going to call the police,’ he informed her briskly. ‘You haven’t a phone in here, have you, by any chance? No, I thought not,’ he added when she vaguely shook her head. ‘Now just stay where you are and don’t touch anything.’

‘But where are you going? Please, I...I don’t want...’ Estelle blurted unsteadily, her eyes widening with alarm as Hunter moved towards the door.

‘Don’t worry,’ he replied swiftly. ‘I won’t be more than a minute or so. I’m going to use the phone in my car.’

She hardly moved a muscle. Her back ached with carrying Joseph for so long. Her throat ached from trying not to cry, her head was thumping violently with shock or tension or just plain weariness and misery, but she didn’t dare sit down, didn’t even want to so much as look at the scattered belongings and ruined objects that lay all around her.

‘How could anyone do this?’ she asked helplessly as Hunter reappeared through the doorway. ‘I’ve got so little, nothing of any real value.’ She shook her head and threw him an agonised look. ‘I...I just don’t understand.’

That makes two of us,’ he replied grimly. ’God! It really is one hell of a mess, isn’t it?’ His hard jawline tightened as his eyes swept over the scene. ‘’Well, the police will be here shortly. But until then all we can do is sit and wait.’

The shock was subsiding a little now. Estelle struggled to get her mind functioning again. ‘There’s no need for you to stay with me,’ she murmured quietly. ‘I mean, this has nothing to do with you... God. I’m sure you have more important things to see to...’ Her wide green eyes slid away from his face. Please! she cried silently. Please, please don’t leave me here alone like this! ‘I’ll be all right,’ she added, raising her head again to stare determinedly into his face. ‘I’m perfectly capable of—’

‘Stop trying so hard to convince yourself!’ Hunter ordered bluntly. ‘I’m not going anywhere until the police arrive. Now, you look absolutely worn out so let’s get this thing upright.’ He moved over to the far side of the room, to the corner where Joseph’s cot was kept, and picked it up in one swift movement. ‘Then you can at least be relieved of some of your excess weight.’ He moved towards Estelle and cast intrigued eyes over the baby sling. ‘So how do you get this thing off?’

‘I’m all right, honestly!’ Estelle tried to twist away from Hunter’s enquiring hands, but he was far too swift for her.

‘You’re absolutely exhausted,’ he said patiently. ‘Now stop arguing and let me help you.’

She didn’t have the energy to make a fight of it. Besides, he was right—she was worn out with carrying Joseph for so long. ‘There’s...a tie at the back and a clip,’ Estelle murmured, acutely aware of his touch as his hands roamed over the fasteners at her back. ‘But the cot—is it OK?’ she asked, glancing worriedly over to the corner of the room, automatically calculating the extortionate cost of a new one should it prove to be beyond repair. ‘Did...did they do anything to it?’

‘Don’t panic. It’s fine. Now, are you ready to take the weight? I’m going to untie this thing.’

Estelle placed Joseph, still thankfully fast asleep and totally unaware of the awful atmosphere that surrounded him, in the cot. She stared down at the huddled form as she placed a blanket over him and felt the sting of tears filling her eyes. What a world, she thought miserably. Such a start for you, my poor, poor baby. Motherless at three months, brought up by an aunt who hasn’t a clue, hasn’t the means or the intelligence to make things better for you...

She was crying and she really had promised herself she wouldn’t. Annoyed by her lack of strength, she spun away, kicking some books and clothes that had been ripped up and thrown on to the floor out of her way in a gesture that revealed all of her anger, frustration and helplessness.

‘Don’t, Estelle.’ Hunter was beside her in an instant, his voice more gentle than she ever would have believed. ‘Don’t upset yourself. Everything will be all right.’

Estelle covered her face with her hands and squeezed her eyes tight shut, fighting against the tears. ‘No, it won’t,’ she murmured unsteadily. ‘Just look at this place!’ She opened her eyes and stared anywhere except at Hunter’s face, her gaze finally coming to rest on the corner where her canvases and easel had at one time been neatly stacked. She rubbed her wet face with the back of her hand and sniffed hard. ‘Just look at what they’ve done.’ She walked over and picked up a brutally torn painting, one that she had been working on for weeks, one that she had hoped to be proud of before too long. ‘Oh, God! Why is everything so hard?’ she murmured quietly, turning blindly away. ‘Why can’t I cope?’

And then Hunter’s arms were there, around her shoulders, drawing her towards him, pressing her close against the fine woollen cloth of his suit. He held her tightly, stroking the tumbling locks of bronze-coloured hair, saying nothing, just holding her so that Estelle, her body stiff with misery at first, gradually found herself relaxing against the rugged, solid strength of him, tentatively resting her head against his broad chest, sobbing over and over, allowing, for the first time in weeks, the release of all the grief and tiredness and tension that had built up since she had first heard of Connie’s death, since she had first shouldered the responsibility of bringing Joseph up alone.

‘No more tears now.’ His voice, sounding strangely sympathetic, shocked her back to reality. With a jerk Estelle lifted her head, wiping hastily at her wet face, embarrassed and uneasy because of his close, close proximity, because she was aware of the fact that, in that brief moment of being held, everything had felt a hundred times better, when in reality of course it was all a hundred times worse, more complicated, more confusing because Hunter was here, treating her like a human being, and Joseph, his son, was lying asleep only six feet away from him. ‘I’ve made your suit wet. Sorry about that.’ She tried to smile and failed miserably, sliding her eyes from his face, biting down hard on her trembling bottom lip. ‘I...I don’t know what came over me. The shock, I suppose.’

‘You look very tired.’ His dark eyes studied her face impassively. ‘It can’t be easy bringing up a baby alone. You are alone, I presume?’ he added smoothly, not releasing her as she had expected but tilting her chin with one long finger, looking down at her with that all-seeing piercing black gaze. ‘There’s no husband or boyfriend around to help?’

’N-no. Just me.’ Estelle risked a wary look. ‘I’m OK,’ she added swiftly; ‘’I manage fine. I know this place isn’t much to look at. I know this area’s rough and tatty but—’

‘Stop trying so hard, Estelle,’ Hunter murmured steadily, stroking a strand of hair back from the side of her face, allowing his hand to rest lightly on the wayward curls that tumbled in a glossy mass to Estelle’s shoulders. ‘You’re very young. How old are you? Eighteen? Nineteen? To have so much responsibility at your age,’ Hunter continued after Estelle nodded silently, ‘can’t be easy.’

‘I...I manage.’ Her voice was barely a whisper. For some reason she couldn’t think straight. She knew she shouldn’t be this close, allowing him to talk to her like this, to touch her with hands that were so manly, with their covering of dark, dark hair and strong fingers, but she didn’t seem able to take control, to pull away as she surely knew she should. ‘I...I never thought it would be easy,’ she murmured breathlessly, gazing helplessly up into the dark, angled features.

‘No, of course you didn’t.’ His voice was suddenly husky. Low and soft, glistening with sudden, open sensuality.

Maybe if Estelle had been experienced, if she had known just a little about men, about herself and the effect her wide, appealing eyes and sweet, open expression could have on the opposite sex, she might have been prepared, might have guessed the intention in Hunter’s eyes. But men, real men had never been a part of her life; she had simply never before been in contact with someone even remotely as devastating as Hunter, even remotely as dangerous. All the members of the opposite sex she had ever known had been the usual spotty, awkward youths at school and then college—to compare them to someone like Hunter was about as intelligent as comparing a kitten with a tiger.

So it wasn’t until his head lowered towards hers, it wasn’t until his arms fell from her shoulders to her waist, drawing her close towards his firmly muscled body, that she realised what was happening.

But by then of course it was too late—far too late.

His mouth covered her lips in one swift movement and in that sharp, totally illuminating second she understood the true meaning of sexual chemistry, found herself acquainted with a sharp urgent twist of pure unexpected desire as, shockingly, she allowed him to drag her closer still, allowed his lips to move slowly over her mouth as he plundered the soft interior with a command and ease that took her breath away. Three or four slow seconds of exquisite torture, her mind screaming wildly at her, while her heart hammered in her chest and her body became yielding and supple under the absolute command of his touch, the thrill of his slow, erotic kiss.

When he finally released her and the madness ended as swiftly as it had begun, she was shaking like a leaf, staring up into the angled face with an expression that portrayed every ounce of her confusion and shock.

‘I never knew I had a weakness for such sweet, childlike vulnerability,’ he murmured huskily.

‘You shouldn’t have done that.’ Estelle’s eyes were bleak as the realisation of what she had allowed to happen dawned on her. She stared up into the stunning, unrepentant face and forced herself to feel cold, chilling dislike for a man who could take such ruthless advantage.

‘Why not?’ His tone held not one shred of remorse. ‘I thought it might make you feel better. Concentrate your mind on other things.’ The dark eyes glittered amusement. ‘And I can see it’s worked—you look quite different now. Shocked, angry, almost fierce. Now don’t spoil everything, Estelle.’ His hand had snaked forward, grasped her raised arm in one smooth movement. ‘You’ve been watching too many films. Slapping my face after such a mutually enjoyable exprience isn’t really appropriate, is it?’

Estelle jerked away from the circle of his arms and mercifully found her grip released. ‘I know what’s appropriate!’ she retorted tightly. ‘I don’t need some sort of...of patronising lecture from you! And...and how dare you kiss me like that?’ she added heatedly, spinning around to pierce him again with angry eyes. ‘You took advantage of me. What sort of a man are you?’ she cried. ‘No, don’t bother telling me! I know the answer to that question,’ she added bitterly. ‘I should know,’ she repeated half to herself. ‘Hell, yes, I should know that only too well!’

‘Estelle?’ Hunter drawled. ‘Don’t you think you are over-reacting just a little? If I didn’t know better, I’d have to come to the conclusion that you’ve never been kissed before. Not true, of course, because there’s evidence in this room not more than a couple of feet away from us which makes that impossible—’

‘Leave Joseph out of this!’ Estelle breathed, following the line of his gaze. ‘Just leave us both! Now! I don’t want you here.’

‘Well, you’ve got me, whether you like it or not!’ Hunter’s voice was back to being steel-edged. He moved towards the door, every movement smoothly controlled as usual, despite his evident return back to ill temper. ‘I’ll find out what’s keeping the police,’ he informed her in clipped tones. ‘We’ve waited here long enough.’

They finally arrived, two young constables, asking the usual questions, examining the usual things, leaving Estelle with very little to comfort her at all.

‘Do you think they’ll catch them?’

Hunter shrugged indifferently. He had been prowling around the room while the police did their work, not interfering, but making Estelle and, she suspected, both the young police constables edgy, and he was still doing it. ‘Don’t hold your breath. This sort of mindless break-in happens almost every night, I should imagine.’

‘What should I do about the door?’ Estelle asked worriedly. ‘It’s late. Will anyone come to mend it at this hour?’

‘I’ve seen to it.’ He sounded bored, as if it were a matter too trivial to mention. ‘I phoned a very reliable handyman I know just after I contacted the police. He should be here in a few minutes; his wife said he would be back home at around eleven and it’s after that now.’

‘Will he need paying tonight?’ Estelle tried not to allow the worry of money to intrude in her voice. ‘I mean,’ she added carefully, ‘I have no cash on me. Tomorrow when the banks are open...’ Who are you kidding? she thought. You haven’t had a penny in your bank account for months! Why don’t you just be honest and say you’re absolutely broke?

‘Don’t worry about that now. You can settle up another time,’ Hunter replied briskly, still continuing with his infuriating pacing. ‘Besides, the insurance will cover that, as well as pay for the cost of replacing all your possessions. As I said—everything will be all right.’

Estelle bent silently and picked up a cushion; its feathers spilled out from the tear that had been caused by a knife or some equally disgusting implement and she threw it down in an angry gesture.

‘Estelle, the insurance will pay for it!’ She heard the footsteps on the bare boards halt, was aware of the suspicious note in his voice. ‘Look at me and tell me you did bother to take out insurance for all of your things,’ he demanded suddenly.

‘You’d better go.’ Estelle heaved a deep breath and forced herself to face him. ‘I can clear up by myself, see to the man when he arrives. Go.’ She glared at him with an expression that spoke volumes. ‘I don’t want you standing there, telling me how stupid I’ve been. Don’t you think I can see that now? So just go! Leave me alone! I’ll manage somehow.’

‘Manage?’ Every syllable dripped derision. ‘Who are you kidding? No possessions, no insurance, very little money, I should imagine. For God’s sake!’ He glared at her fiercely. ‘What an absolutely idiotic thing you are! A pound or two a week, less than that,’ he amended, casting clearly scathing eyes around the room, ‘and you could have had all this damage covered. You’re reasonably intelligent, aren’t you? Why the hell take the risk?’

‘Stop it!’ Estelle placed her hands over her ears in a frantic childlike gesture. ‘Stop making me feel a hundred times worse than I already do! I know I’ve made a mistake! I know I’ve been stupid!’ She glared at him, her throat tight with misery. ‘Don’t you think I know that?’

‘Right, come on! I’ve had enough! Pack a bag. Sort through what you’ll need for tonight: clothes, things for the baby.’

‘What?’ Estelle’s eyes narrowed in confusion as Hunter pushed her unceremoniously towards the chest of drawers where half of her underclothes were dangling unceremoniously on view. ‘Stop bullying me!’ She wheeled around to face him, found herself, with a swift glance at his angry expression, up against more than she could handle. She lowered her voice, forcing control back into her body, stepping back towards the brightly stencilled piece of furniture. ‘Why have I got to pack a bag? Where am I supposed to spend the—?’ Estelle stopped abruptly as realisation dawned.

‘Yes, that’s right.’ Hunter speared her with a look that dared her to disobey. ‘You’re staying the night with me at the manor. Now, I want no arguments. I am tired and angry and as frustrated as hell. This whole evening has been an absolute waste of time from beginning to end. So just be quiet, get your things, pick up your baby and come with me.’

‘I...I can’t.’ Estelle shook her head in wild determination.

‘Of course you can. Don’t be ridiculous. This place is not fit for a pig in its present condition. It’s absolutely disgusting. Now don’t argue!’ he commanded, twisting her back around to face him. ‘Just get some stuff together—’

‘Stop ordering me around, will you?’ Estelle glared up into Hunter’s face and tried to find strength from somewhere. ‘I can’t stay the night with you—I just can’t!’ She tried to move away again but he had advanced, pinning her against the chest of drawers, so that escape was impossible.

‘Don’t look so panic-stricken; I’m not suggesting we spend the night in the same bed,’ he drawled. ‘Not even in the same room. Our kiss was pleasant, but it hardly puts us on the sort of intimate footing you are suggesting—’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ Estelle retorted, ‘and you know it! I would no more want to sleep with you than...than...’

‘Than what?’ He had moved closer still and, as she found her eyes drawn upwards to his face, she saw the slight curve at the corner of his mouth, the now familiar gleam of male predator in his eyes.

Estelle grasped a breath. She was learning; she knew what that look meant; unfortunately she wasn’t quite fast enough.

‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to be quite so provocative,’ Hunter gritted, confusing her, making her more aware of the potent male danger by stroking the edge of his finger gently, oh, so gently, along her cheek. ‘I’ve already discovered this evening that I have a penchant for childlike vulnerability. Don’t tempt my control any further. I’m aware, you see, of my additional weakness: beautiful, stubborn young women who will insist on openly insulting me, who will insist on not doing as they are told—they always were a great turn-on. Do you want to see how I show them the error of their ways, Estelle?’ He lowered his head a fraction and she felt the familiar, inexplicable jolt in the pit of her stomach. ‘Do you want to become one of the corrected?’ he murmured huskily as his mouth brushed against the trembling softness of her lips.

‘N-no!’ Estelle’s cry was a faint whisper.

It was a plea that Hunter ruthlessly chose to ignore. His mouth covered Estelle’s moist lips with potent firmness. His hands skimmed the outline of her body, coming to rest at her slender waist, holding it in a grip that was firm and full of cool possession.

‘Now I think you understand what I’m saying.’ He was raising his head at last, his glance sliding over Estelle’s flushed cheeks, her bright, startled eyes. ‘You’ll find I’m a perfect gentleman—up to a point. Even I have my limitations, just like everyone else.’ He gave a slow, satisfied smile. ‘Take no longer than five minutes. I’ll wait outside while you sort through what you need,’ he informed her briskly. ‘Call me if you want any help.’

Estelle leant against the chest of drawers for support and stared as Hunter’s imposing presence left the room. What on earth is happening? she thought dazedly. What sort of a fool’s game am I playing? She ran her tongue lightly over her tips and struggled to forget how it had felt when Hunter’s mouth had covered hers.

Oh, Connie! I’m so sorry! She closed her eyes and wondered if Hunter had simply taken what he had wanted with her too. It didn’t bear thinking about. And now here he was suggesting she go with him, stay at his house! Surely even to consider such a proposition was the height of madness!

Estelle’s eyes searched the room helplessly—she saw the mess and with a shudder of disgust turned violently away. But how could she stay here? There was no way she could face clearing up everything tonight and there was Joseph to consider, above everything else, above her own fears and needs. This place just wasn’t fit for a baby.

With a heavy heart, Estelle jerked open one of the drawers and prepared to pack, praying silently that she would get through the next few hours unscathed.


CHAPTER THREE

‘YOU can use this room for tonight.’ Hunter threw Estelle’s well-packed holdall on to the enormous four-poster bed that dominated the ornate bedroom. ‘The child will have to make do with a drawer or something.’ He threw a brief uninterested glance in Joseph’s direction. ‘You can pad it out with towels; there are plenty in the bathroom, just through there.’ He indicated a door in the corner of the room with a nod of his head. ‘You know where the kitchen is should you need anything else, don’t you?’

Estelle nodded mutely, too nervous to admit that she hadn’t a clue where anything was after the endless maze of corridors they had just travelled along. ‘I’m sorry to be such a nuisance,’ she murmured as he moved towards the door. ‘Are you sure you want the bother of having me in the house?’

‘Have I read the situation wrongly?’ His words were clipped, his voice curt and suddenly irritable. ‘Do you have somewhere, someone else to go to, then?’

‘N-no. It’s just I don’t want to be...I mean...there was no need to—’

‘Save your breath, Estelle,’ he interrupted crisply. ‘We’ve been through all this before. You’re here now and it’s late. Get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’

Tomorrow came quickly enough. Six-thirty, to be precise. Joseph was cutting teeth and his insistent cries woke Estelle immediately.

It took several moments before she got her bearings; the grand room with its ornate hangings and impressive collections of paintings and books was so at odds with her own congested flat that for some considerable time she actually thought she was having some kind of weird dream. Then, as the depressing happenings of the night before came flooding back, she realised that the nightmare she had woken to was not in fact a nightmare at all but actual reality...

‘Oh, I’m...I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be down here at this hour.’ Estelle backed away to the door. Hunter was sitting at the long oak table in the kitchen, dressed immaculately in a crisp dark business suit, with a sheaf of papers at his right hand, and a coffee-pot and a cup at his left. He looked, Estelle thought, as if he had been there for quite some considerable time. Another calculation gone astray—she had counted on him being safely out of the way, tucked up, asleep in his bed somewhere, for another couple of hours at least.

‘There’s no need to run away like some startled rabbit,’ he drawled, raising his head to survey Estelle with cool, unhurried ease. ‘Come along in. I’m just about finished anyway.’

‘I...I just wanted some hot water,’ Estelle murmured hesitantly, ‘to heat up Joseph’s bottle. I...I’ll come back later; it doesn’t matter.’ She began to withdraw, but Hunter rose from the table, crossed the room and placed commanding hands on her shoulders.

‘I don’t think your son would particularly appreciate that,’ he drawled lazily, manoeuvring Estelle through into the kitchen, ‘and neither would I for that matter—the noise he’s making is setting my teeth on edge. I suggest you get some food inside him as quickly as possible before he wakes the whole neighbourhood.’

Estelle pursed her lips, averting her eyes from Hunter’s handsome face, more aware than she ever wanted to be of his touch, of the slightest pressure his fingers exerted as he led her over to the gleaming range. ‘I just wanted some hot water.’

‘Yes, so you’ve already told me,’ he murmured smoothly, leaning back in his chair to watch with glittering eyes as Estelle stood nervously before him. ‘There’s no need to keep explaining your presence. I did invite you to stay here, after all.’

‘I need a bowl too.’ Estelle tried to harden up her voice but it still sounded ridiculously nervous.

‘No problem. Look in the cupboards; I’m sure there are plenty around.’

‘I...I’ll be out of your way in a moment.’ Estelle turned, hating him for making her feel awkward, hating the fact that she cared because her hair was a mess and her T-shirt was old and she probably looked the most dreadful fright.

What on earth was I thinking of last night? Estelle thought despairingly. To come here, agree to Hunter’s suggestion. Suggestion? She shook her head, cursing silently as she remembered his forceful behaviour, the way he had taken advantage of her vulnerability.

A flush of self-consciousness flooded Estelle’s face as she became aware of the fact that his deep, dark eyes were focusing speculatively on her shapely figure. Surreptitiously she tugged at the too short T-shirt which she had slept in as usual, feeling stupidly gauche and awkward in front of his own relaxed, rugged frame.

‘Nice legs,’ Hunter murmured appreciatively, leaning back, folding his arms, taking a good long look. His lips curved into a stunning smile. ‘Slim and golden, just the way I like them. Now don’t look at me like that,’ he added, his eyes taunting Estelle as she pursed her lips angrily and threw him a frosty look. ‘What do you expect? If you will wander the house half undressed, flaunting yourself—’

‘I am not flaunting myself!’ Estelle cut in, eyes bright with irritation as she rose easily to the bait. ‘But I didn’t bring a dressing-gown with me. And anyway, I didn’t expect you to be here.’ She lowered herself carefully, clutching Joseph’s body close, desperately trying not to reveal any more of herself as she bent and hastily searched in the cupboards.

‘I’m surprised you’re up so bright and early,’ Hunter murmured in conversational tones. ‘It must have been pretty late by the time you got some sleep.’

Estelle straightened up, carefully poured some hot water into a bowl and then plunged in the prepared bottle of milk that she had mercifully thought to bring from her flat with her, with a silent prayer that it would be ready before Joseph’s intermittent cries turned into full-scale howls of impatience. ‘It may be early,’ she retorted stiffly, determined not to allow his seemingly pleasant tones to have an effect on her, ‘but I don’t feel particularly bright. Early rising isn’t something I do out of choice.’

‘Tell me about it!’ Hunter murmured drily, crossing back over to the table. ‘I’m driving up to Manchester this morning on business, hoping, although I doubt whether I’ll succeed, to avoid the worst of the rush-hour traffic. Early mornings are a complete nightmare to me.’

‘I would have thought you would have been able to arrange business meetings at times that were more agreeable to yourself,’ Estelle answered snappily. ‘After all, isn’t that one of the perks of being in charge of your own company?’

‘True. But somehow it’s never really as easy as all that.’ There was a slight pause. ‘So, you’re aware then that I own my own business?’ he asked smoothly. ‘How come?’

Estelle stiffened. She could almost feel his perceptive gaze boring into her back. There was a long silence as she rapidly ran over what she had just said. Had she given too much away? No. No, it was all right, she thought, breathing an inward sigh of relief; he couldn’t possibly guess that she was almost an expert on his lifestyle, had gathered information about him with almost feverish determination from any source that she could lay her hands on ever since she had first discovered his name in Connie’s diary. ‘Oh, I...I just heard from somewhere,’ she murmured vaguely. ‘Someone in the village must have mentioned it.’ She shrugged, silently urging the hot water to hurry up and do its job, because if she didn’t get out of the kitchen and Hunter’s presence soon she would be giving all sorts of things away.

‘So you presumably know I’m in management consultancy,’ he added briskly, ‘that I have the enviable task of trying to salvage firms which are in a slow and very steady decline before they go completely over the brink into oblivion?’

‘I...think I heard something of the sort,’ Estelle mumbled.

‘What else did you hear?’ His voice was sharp as he carried his cup over to the dishwasher and stood beside her. Estelle risked a swift glance at his face and saw that his eyes held a fierce expression. ‘I’m intrigued,’ he continued, when she made no reply. ‘I haven’t been living in the village more than five minutes and it seems my misgivings are already justified; already the locals are gossiping.’ Dark brows drew together irritably. ‘When my father died earlier this year and I inherited this beautiful but rather dilapidated pile of bricks,’ he continued savagely, ‘I seriously considered selling the whole lot in one fell swoop. There’s a lot of work that needs doing to the property, new plumbing, rewiring, any amount of decorating. Oh, and a new perimeter wall, of course,’ he added with deliberate emphasis, meeting Estelle’s hurried glance with cool black eyes. ‘Perhaps I should have given in to my instincts—let someone else take care of the hassle and upheaval.’

‘Oh, but how can you say that?’ Estelle responded automatically. ‘This is such a lovely house! It’s been in your family for several generations too, hasn’t it? And you have such a wealth of treasures, such wonderful paintings. Most of them need cleaning, of course, but just in the hallway and along the stairs there are some wonderful examples of—’ Her mind swung back over the many, varied pictures she had seen in her short time here and then her gaze fell upon Hunter’s face and she bit down on her lip, halting suddenly as her eyes registered his not particularly amused expression.

‘Ah, yes, the painter!’ he drawled mockingly. ‘Am I to take it from that impassioned outburst that you know something about art, then?’

Estelle raised her chin defiantly, annoyed by the derision in his voice. ‘Yes, just a little,’ she replied crisply. ‘I studied for a while. Your father was quite a collector, wasn’t he?’ she added, unable to keep the enthusiasm out of her voice. ‘It would be such a waste of his work not to—’

‘My, my! You do seem to know quite a lot! Village gossip!’ The inflexion in his voice held disgust. ‘Such a disagreeable aspect of country life. Give me London any day; at least there your life’s your own and you can be assured of a certain degreee of privacy.’

‘It’s not such a wonderful place,’ Estelle retorted, stung by the cutting tone of his voice. ‘Intellectually and socially stimulating if you have the means to enjoy all it has to offer, but a very large, lonely and daunting place otherwise.’

‘So you’re acquainted with London?’ Hunter’s gaze sharpened further. ‘I thought you were a country girl through and through.’

‘I lived there for a while, that’s all,’ Estelle informed him quietly, moving over to feel the temperature of the milk. ‘It had its attractions but...’ Her voice trailed away self-consciously. Hunter was watching her too closely; she could almost see his brain piecing the fragments of information together.

‘You were at college there? What happened? Did you have to leave when you became pregnant?’ he commented bluntly. ‘But why move here?’ he added with a slight frown, taking her acquiescence as read. ‘Do you have family in this area, then? Some connection?’

‘I used to.’ Estelle’s voice was clipped, dripping with frost. Hunter deliberately chose not to take the hint, continuing unmercifully.

‘Mother and father?’

‘No!’ Estelle replied shortly. She couldn’t risk dicing with her and Joseph’s future a moment longer. ‘Look, would you mind not giving me the third degree?’ she snapped. ‘It’s too early in the morning, and besides, my private life is my own affair. I don’t feel like discussing any of it with you.’ She swiftly tested the milk on her arm and then plunged the bottle into Joseph’s hungry, searching mouth.

‘So, it’s perfectly all right for you to gossip about me,’ Hunter commented smoothly, raising a dark enquiring brow, ‘but I’m not allowed to delve into your affairs. That’s rather one-sided, don’t you think?’

‘I have not been gossiping!’ Estelle shot back. ‘You flatter yourself if you think I’d waste an ounce of my breath discussing you with anyone!’

There was a chilled silence.

‘So inexplicably sharp,’ Hunter murmured softly. ‘Quite intriguing. You know, Estelle, your face has that same look about it as before—you remember,’ he explained with menacing softness, ‘when I caught you sneaking about in the wood. Same expression, same look of frightened intensity.’ He lifted a hand and brushed a long strand of hair away from her face, deliberately touching the skin of her cheek as he did so, deliberately testing her reactions, giving a slow, satisfied smile when she jerked sharply away. He raised dark brows and shook his head at her. ‘What is it exactly, Estelle? Care to enlighten me?’

‘Stop it!’ She frowned and felt the hot prickle of panic creeping over her skin as Hunter’s gaze forced her own into submission. ‘I...I’m tired,’ she continued determinedly. ‘I had a dreadful night’s sleep and after what happened...’

‘You coped very well.’

Estelle glared, annoyed by the smooth, silky tones. ‘There’s no need to patronise me!’ she flared. ‘I can do without that on top of everything else!’

‘You seem to be able to do without a lot of things,’ Hunter grated, his mouth hardening into a thin line. ‘Like good manners and an even temper—one that doesn’t flare up at the slightest thing! Tell me,’ he added tersely, picking up his briefcase, stuffing the papers none too tidily inside, ‘are you always this damn touchy in the mornings?’ He threw her a contemptuous look and strode over to the kitchen door. ‘I was applauding your spirit,’ he added in bored tones, turning to pierce her with an expression of complete and utter indifference. ‘After what you went through last night.’ He lifted his broad shoulders in a casual shrug. ‘Obviously I shouldn’t have wasted my breath!’ He flung open the kitchen door. ‘When you’re ready to leave, just tell Mrs McCormack—she’ll arrange for a lift back to the village. Oh, and by the way,’ he added crisply, his features hard and angular as he looked at her, ‘your front door has been fixed, I’ve left the new key to your flat on the dresser over there. If you can’t manage to pay the bill, let me know,’ he sneered. ‘I’ll settle up for you—you can look upon it as my one last gesture of patronism!’

The flat looked no better in the cold, harsh light of day, but Estelle refused to be downhearted by the state of it. I collect too much rubbish anyway, she thought, determined to look on the bright side. This will be a good opportunity to sort everything out, to begin again.

She hadn’t really changed much since Connie’s time here. Everything had happened so suddenly: the shock of her sister’s death, the grief, packing up her things, leaving college, the not so simple task of living from day to day, coping with Joseph...

She set to work, gritting her teeth against the despair that rose up to overwhelm her from time to time, struggling hard not to allow her thoughts to dwell on anything at all. Hunter most especially.

She went out with Joseph for a break at lunchtime, walking along her favourite route by the village green and the old duck pond. And she successfully managed, in between seeing to Joseph and keeping him happy, to get most of the work done.

Estelle rubbed at her aching neck. She had scrubbed everywhere with a strong solution of disinfectant, keeping her spirits up by imagining how she would redecorate, how much brighter and cheerier the place would seem after a good coat of fresh paint. But now, as she stared down at her canvases, she felt despair creep over her. The vandals had taken great pleasure, it seemed, in destroying these, her most precious possessions—the few, probably not very good paintings she had brought back with her from art college.





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