The Tempestuous Flame

The Tempestuous Flame

Carole Mortimer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘BUT why can’t he find his own wife, Daddy?’ Caroline burst out. ‘And why pick on me at all?’

‘Because I told him I would introduce you to him, that’s why,’ said her father firmly. ‘Now don’t start being difficult. I’ve asked him here for the weekend, and I want you to at least be polite to him. You’ll like him, everyone does.’

‘You mean most women do! And if they like him that much, they can marry him, because I’m certainly not going to!’ She glared indignantly at the equally stubborn man sitting opposite her. Her father often had weird ideas, but this was definitely the weirdest. No one in their right mind could seriously expect her to consider this ridiculous scheme of his, except for her father, of course.

Matt Rayner sighed heavily, his mouth set in disapproving lines. ‘For goodness’ sake, Caroline, no one’s suggesting you marry him—yet. All I’m asking is that you meet him and try to like him. I don’t know why you have to make such a fuss about one little meeting.’

‘Because I know you too well. I bet you’ve already booked the church and hired the cars. It’s just not on, Daddy. I won’t do it,’ she told him adamantly, smoothing back her long blonde hair behind her ears. ‘He can’t be much of a man if he can’t find his own wife.’

Matt looked at the rebellious look on his young daughter’s face and knew he had pushed the subject of Greg Fortnum enough for one day. ‘Greg is very much a man, but he’s also a busy one and badly in need of a wife. All right,’ he put up a silencing hand, ‘I won’t mention the subject any more—for the moment. But he’ll still be coming here for the weekend, and I do expect you to be polite to him.’

Caroline picked up her handbag in preparation of leaving. ‘Of course I would have been polite to him, but why you suddenly have this feeling of friendliness towards the man I have yet to work out. You’ve always told me he’s an arrogant, ruthless and sometimes callous man.’

‘Business man,’ Matt corrected. ‘There’s a difference. Inside business Greg is all of those things, but outside the boardroom he’s—–’

‘Just the same,’ finished Caroline. ‘I’m not completely stupid, Daddy, I can read. And some of the things I’ve read about that man just don’t bear repeating. And you want me to marry such a man,’ she added with disgust, flouncing angrily to the door of the lounge.

‘I do not! I just think it would be a good idea for you to—–’

‘And what can he possibly think of me?’ she interrupted him again. ‘I ask you! You probably made me sound like a husband-hunter. And don’t bother to deny it, I know your sales talk too well to believe anything else. You’ve given me the same rubbish about four times in the last two years, so I can imagine what you told Mr Fortnum. I can almost feel sorry for him!’

‘Well, mat’s a start.’

‘No! How many times do I have to tell you? Anyway, I’m going away this weekend, so you’ll have to entertain your guest on your own.’

‘Caroline! You can’t just go off like this. What can I possibly do with Greg all weekend?’ Matt ran a frustrated hand through his prematurely grey hair.

‘I’m sure you’ll think of something,’ she smiled sweetly before letting herself out of their apartment. Let him sort that one out for himself.

Life roared into the powerful engine of her low sports car and she accelerated out of the forecourt of their apartment block. It literally was theirs—or at least, her father’s—and they lived in the penthouse apartment. Caroline breathed a sigh of relief, feeling as if a heavy weight had just been lifted from her shoulders. She just couldn’t believe her ears when her father had made that ridiculous proposal, and it was ridiculous. But then she should have guessed, he had been very reasonable when she had told him of the end of her friendship with Anthony. She should have realised he had another applicant in mind.

For the last two years, since she had left finishing school, her father had periodically presented respectable young men for her approval, and she had just managed to shake off the most recent contender for her father’s money. But this latest development was something completely new. Greg Fortnum was anything but a youthful gold-digger.

As one of the most wealthy men in the world, he was much in demand himself, and nothing at all like the manageable young men her father had previously produced for her inspection. This was why she couldn’t understand why her father was so adamant about the two of them meeting. From what she could gather, Greg Fortnum wasn’t a ‘yes-man’, and wouldn’t meekly agree to her father’s wishes. So there must be another reason for his insistence. She only wished she knew what it was.

Another thing that puzzled her slightly was Greg Fortnum’s agreement to the idea. Even if he looked like a monster she was sure that some women would still be interested in marrying him, if only for his money. But then he didn’t look like a monster, at least, so she had heard. He was older than the crowd she usually went about with and so their paths had never crossed. But she knew he was constantly in the company of some of the most beautiful women in the world. In fact, the last she had heard of him he had been having a tempestuous affair with one of the rather more well-known actresses. So why didn’t he marry her if he needed a wife so badly? Why indeed? Yet another question she had set to puzzle herself.

She smiled impudently at the taxi-driver as she overtook him, and received a cheery smile back. She hadn’t been going away this weekend, but she would certainly make sure she did now. No one, not even her father, was going to browbeat her into marrying someone she didn’t love.

Esther was already at the table when she arrived at the restaurant for their luncheon appointment. Esther was one of her oldest friends, the two of them having met at school and continued to keep in contact even after Caroline had gone to finishing school and Esther had married John, her sober lawyer husband. With Esther being such a lighthearted girl and never taking anything seriously, and John being the exact opposite, Caroline had often wondered at the success of their marriage—and it was very successful. The two of them were just as much in love now as they had been when they first married two years earlier, in fact, probably more so.

‘Hi,’ grinned Esther, her short black curls bouncing impishly as she spoke. ‘What’s wrong?’

Caroline never ceased to be amazed at how Esther could always discern her moods without her even having to say a word. Even though she didn’t particularly feel like it she found herself smiling. ‘Daddy!’ Her voice was eloquent with meaning.

‘Oh.’ Esther had become accustomed to Caroline’s constant upsets with her father. The trouble with the two of them was that they were too much alike, although Caroline didn’t have that iron streak running through her character that made Matt Rayner so successful.

‘Mm,’ sighed Caroline, smiling gratefully at the waiter as he placed her sherry before her. ‘Daddy has another prospective husband lined up for me. The only trouble is he’s gone one step further this time. Do you know who he’s chosen for me? Greg Fortnum!’

Esther gasped. Matt had gone one step further. Whatever had possessed him to try and marry a beautiful girl like Caroline to a rake like Greg Fortnum? That man’s reputation with women was notorious. ‘But why? Why doesn’t he just let you choose your own husband?’

‘Because he thinks they’ll only be marrying me for my money—or in this case, his money. Not very flattering, is it?’

‘But I still don’t understand. Look at the last one he introduced you to—Anthony, is that right? Well he was certainly after your father’s money.’

Caroline waited until the waiter had left with their order before answering. ‘I know that, but so did Daddy. Andrew was the type of fortune-hunter Daddy could handle, the fact that I didn’t like him made no difference. He’s so terrified I’ll meet someone who he can’t control that he’s decided if I must marry it shall be someone of his choosing. But Greg Fortnum!’ she said the last with disgust, staring miserably down into her glass.

‘Quite,’ agreed Esther dryly. ‘Although he doesn’t fit the description you’ve just given me. Greg Fortnum sounds anything but manageable.’

‘I know,’ sighed Caroline. ‘That’s why I think there’s more to this than just Greg Fortnum needing a wife. Goodness, if he needed a wife that badly he has only to say so and thousands of girls would jump at the chance.’

‘Mm,’ Esther said thoughtfully. ‘But perhaps they aren’t the type of wife he would want. He would need someone who was used to entertaining people, someone beautiful and versed in all the social graces. And you have to admit you’re all of those things,’ she pointed out.

‘You’re beginning to sound like Daddy. Doesn’t love enter into his plans at all?’

‘Obviously not.’

‘I suppose he would expect me to meekly sit at home while he went out to see his mistress. Well, I don’t want that type of marriage. I want—I want a marriage like yours.’

Esther laughed, a tinkling bell-like sound that caused many male heads to turn in their direction. The two of them were totally unconcerned about the admiring glances that had been directed towards them during the last fifteen minutes, being accustomed to causing a stir wherever they went, one being so darkly beautiful and the other so fair.

‘Well, I’m pleased that you find my marriage a good example of married life, but even John and I argue at times. I think all married couples do. As for you sitting meekly at home while your husband goes out, I certainly can’t see that happening. But you’re not seriously thinking of marrying him, are you?’ She couldn’t help but sound surprised, knowing how stubborn Caroline could be when she set her mind on something.

‘Certainly not! I’ve told Daddy that he can entertain Greg Fortnum on his own this weekend, and I also told him I was going away for a couple of days. I wasn’t, but I think I may go down to the cottage for a while. Anything to avoid meeting that man.’

‘Go to the cottage in this weather?’ Esther referred to the rain outside. ‘But, Caroline, it’s probably freezing there this time of year. Why don’t you come to us instead?’

Caroline shook her head, tucking into the steak she had ordered with unconcealed relish. She might have argued with her father, but it certainly hadn’t robbed her of her appetite. ‘No, I think it would be better if I got right away from town. Thanks for the offer, though. Mmm, this steak’s good,’ she took a sip of wine. ‘The cottage will be all right once I get a fire going. I could stay for a couple of weeks if I wanted to.’

‘I think you would be better to come to us. You know we love having you and perhaps we could ask Nick to make up a foursome. John and I found a lovely new restaurant the other day, we could try that out again.’

Nick was Esther’s brother, and although Caroline liked him very much, to her he was just like the brother she had never had. She and Esther were like sisters anyway, and so it had been a natural progression. ‘No, Esther, it’s lovely of you to ask me, but I don’t want to be near enough for Daddy to find me. You understand? You’ll be the first person Daddy thinks of contacting when he starts looking for me.’

Esther nodded. ‘I suppose so. But I think you’re making a mistake. Would it do any harm for you to meet the man? That wouldn’t commit you to anything, would it?’

‘No, except it gives Daddy a certain amount of satisfaction I don’t intend him to have. I think the best thing for me to do is stay out of the way until he forgets all about marriage and Greg Fortnum. And I can work at the cottage.’ She thought with pleasure of the studio her father had converted for her from one of the bedrooms at the cottage. As there had only been three of them to start with she had thought it very generous of him—she knew how he loved his comforts. Not that he spent a lot of time at their cottage, making Caroline regard it as her personal property.

John arrived a few minutes later to take Esther shopping for the afternoon, and after a few minutes’ chatter Caroline excused herself. If she wanted to reach the cottage today she would have to leave soon. She walked gracefully out of the restaurant, a tall honey-blonde girl with the face of a perfect sculpture. It was this perfection that kept most of the men who weren’t fortune-hunters away from her, they couldn’t be kept away by anything.

She let herself quietly into the apartment, but a quick look around assured her that her father wasn’t at home. It didn’t take her long to pack the necessary clothing for a stay at the Cumbrian cottage, just a few pairs of trousers and some thick jumpers to keep out the cold. Esther was right, January wasn’t really the ideal month to go to her retreat, but after her father’s earlier determination she didn’t want to be anywhere he could reach her easily. He could be very persuasive in the right mood, and she wasn’t impervious to his charm. The cottage was the ideal place to go in the circumstances. Of course there was a telephone there, her father refused to go anywhere there wasn’t one, but if she didn’t answer it he wouldn’t know she was there.

She left him a note saying she would call him during the next few days, but that she refused to come back until Greg Fortnum was well out of the picture. She gave a nod of satisfaction and picking up the hastily packed suitcase, walked to the door. It was at just that moment the telephone began to ring. Caroline looked at it irritably; should she answer it or shouldn’t she? If it was her father she could always pretend to be Maggie, their housekeeper.

‘Yes?’ she enquired curtly, automatically reciting their telephone number.

‘Good afternoon,’ greeted a coolly clipped voice. ‘I wish to speak to Mr Rayner. Is that possible?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Caroline replied politely. What an attractive voice this man had, although it wasn’t recognisable as anyone she knew. ‘Mr Rayner isn’t at home at the moment. Could I take a message?’

‘Certainly. Could you ask him to ring me back? Greg Fortnum is the name, he’ll know the number.’

Caroline stared with horror at the telephone, looking at it as if it had suddenly turned into a viper. Greg Fortnum! The last person she wanted to talk to!

‘Hello?’ he said sharply. ‘Are you still there?’

‘Yes—yes, I’m still here. Did you say Greg Fortnum?’

‘I did,’ he replied, obviously becoming impatient. ‘Is anything wrong?’

She could almost have laughed at this question. Anything wrong? Everything was wrong! She was calmly talking to the man who had clinically suggested marrying her! But then he didn’t know that he was actually talking to her, Caroline Rayner, he probably thought she was the maid. ‘No, sir,’ she answered demurely. ‘I’ll tell Mr Rayner you called.’

‘Thank you.’ The abrupt click at the other end of the telephone told her he had rung off.

Well! So that was the famous Greg Fortnum. A bit abrupt perhaps, but definitely an attractive voice, sort of sexy. In the right mood and setting it could probably be downright seductive. She wondered if the body fitted the voice—probably, if his reputation was anything to go by. But then she didn’t want to marry a rake, no matter how attractive he was.

Determinedly she picked up her suitcase again and walked hurriedly out of the apartment before she changed her mind, she felt a burning sense of curiosity to meet the man at the other end of that telephone conversation. But what good would it do her? If he practised the charm on her that the voice pointed to him possessing she wouldn’t stand a chance, and before she knew what was happening she would have found herself married to him. And she didn’t intend marrying anyone just so they could have an accomplished hostess to grace their home. No, she wanted to be the most important thing in the life of the man she married, not just another asset.

It was already dark by the time she pulled the car up outside the cottage, and pulling open the double garage doors she parked the car inside out of the rain. She had stopped on the way for supplies, and taking these and her case she walked over to the cottage. The key to the door was under the mat as usual and letting herself in she instantly felt the coolness of the cottage. She rubbed her already cold hands together. Thank goodness there were some dry logs beside the fireplace, it wouldn’t take long for her to warm the place up and then she could get herself some soup to warm her.

She brought the sheets down from upstairs to air them in front of the glowing fire. A good night’s sleep and she would feel better. At the moment everything seemed creepy, and though not normally a nervous girl she wished she hadn’t come here now.

Her bedroom was quite warm from the fire she had burning in the small fireplace, but still she couldn’t sleep. She had been here on her own before, but usually it had been in the summer months when the nights were lighter. She shivered as she heard yet another strange noise outside.

It was no good, she would never get to sleep. She sat up suddenly. There was that noise again, and it sounded like a car door slamming. What was a car doing here? This was the only cottage in the area, which could only mean that whoever was in that car was coming here. Could it be burglars? But there was nothing here to steal. But they didn’t know that!

She crept quietly out of bed, peeping out of the curtains to the driveway below. Sure enough, parked there was a strange car, its sleek lines clearly visible in the moonlight. Her attention was caught and held by the shadowy figure walking around the car and delving into the boot. She ducked back behind the curtains as the sleek head looked up at the cottage. Had he seen her? She chanced another quick look between the curtains. The intruder seemed intent on the contents of the boot again. Well, it was no good cowering here, the telephone was downstairs, she would have to try and call for help.

The stairs creaked noisily as she crept down their winding length. Funny, she had never noticed they did that before. She only hoped the man outside hadn’t heard it too.

She was half way across the hallway to the telephone when the door was flung open and the light switched on. Caroline blinked dazedly at this sudden light, wrapping her almost transparent nightdress around her slender body. The man standing silhouetted in the doorway didn’t look at all pleased to see her either; his tanned arrogant face was creased in disapproving lines.

Caroline felt herself bridling with anger even in the face of danger. Who was this man to look down his haughty nose at her as if she were the intruder? She pulled herself up to her full height, looking coldly at the stranger.

The man moved forward into the light, his black hair shining like a raven’s wing, and the green eyes set like twin emeralds in his mahogany tanned face appraised her from head to toe. He was a tall man, well over six foot, and although he had a lean frame Caroline could see it was pure ripcord muscle. The trousers he wore clung to the length of his thighs, and the thick creamy sweater disguised none of the power beneath.

‘Well?’ he queried softly. ‘The maid, I presume?’

Caroline glared angrily at his sardonic face, resenting his scrutiny. ‘Certainly not!’ she said coldly. ‘Who are you?’ He didn’t look like a burglar, that was for sure.

He put down the case he had been carrying, casually taking out a gold cigarette case and lighting the cigarette he had extracted with a matching gold lighter. ‘Who I am isn’t really important. It’s who you are that matters, although from the way you’re acting I would say you’re one of the snooty daughter’s friends. Am I right?’

‘Snooty daughter?’ she repeated sharply. ‘What snooty daughter?’

The man came even further into the room, closing the door and moving with a cat-like grace to stand before the now dying fire in the lounge. ‘Matt’s snooty daughter. Cynthia, Catherine, whatever her name is.’

‘Oh,’ Caroline said dully. Snooty? Was she really? ‘Yes, I suppose you could call me a friend of hers. But who are you?’

He continued to smoke his cigarette, his eyes narrowed. ‘Much as I like the sight of your near-naked body I think you should go put some more clothes on if we’re to continue this conversation. It may not bother you to be seen like that, but I don’t usually carry out conversations with half-naked females.’

‘Really?’ Caroline said tartly, resenting his criticism of her. ‘You surprise me.’

Those green eyes mocked her. ‘Only females of my own choice,’ he amended. ‘And you certainly aren’t that.’

She gave him a flinty look before turning on her heel and marching furiously out of the room. What an insulting man! And who was he, he hadn’t told her that yet. Obviously an acquaintance of her father’s, but who, that was the question? And how dared he call her snooty when he didn’t even know her right name! Cynthia or Catherine! What a cheek! Well, she certainly wasn’t going to tell him who she was, not after that description of her.

When she came downstairs again five minutes later, dressed in levi’s and a thick green sweater, it was to find a steaming mug of coffee waiting for her.

‘Help yourself to sugar,’ he invited, drinking his own coffee with obvious pleasure. He put down the half-empty mug. ‘Now, would you mind telling me what you’re doing here?’

‘Would I?’ she demanded. ‘What about you?’

‘I happen to have been given permission to come here,’ he informed her haughtily. ‘And you?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? My—my friend gave me permission to use this cottage too. It has a studio, you see.’

‘A studio? What sort of studio?’

‘The type you paint in,’ she told him sarcastically.

‘Oh, I see.’ The contempt couldn’t be missed in his voice and her resentment towards him grew.

‘Who are you?’ she asked angrily.

He showed his dislike of her tone by the faint lift of his arrogant eyebrows. ‘My name is André—André Gregory.’

‘André? You don’t look French. It is French, isn’t it?’

‘Mmm. And I’m half French, on my mother’s side. And your name?’

‘Caroline…’ she hesitated. ‘Caroline Rawlings.’ Why had she lied? It would serve him right if he felt uncomfortable when she told him her name, although she had the feeling it wouldn’t bother him one way or the other. He seemed equally unconcerned that they had both come to stay here on the same night. He was the type of man that would be in control whatever the situation. She looked up to find him also looking at her, his face becoming a shuttered mask under her questioning gaze.

‘So, Miss Rawlings,’ he drawled her name, ‘it appears that we both have the intention of staying here for the night. I could of course be a gentleman and say that I’ll leave, but as good manners have never been one of my finer attributes, I have no intention of doing any such thing. Of course I only have your word that you are a friend of Matt’s daughter—you could be an intruder for all I know.’

‘But so could you,’ she pointed out reasonably.