Ice In His Veins

‘I see. I just didn’t realise Drew was your stepfather.’

Eden’s mouth tightened, anger in her golden eyes. ‘As far as I’m concerned he’s my father. My real father gave up any right he had to expect anything from me when he divorced my mother and married Isobel Dean, and made no effort to see me after his remarriage.’

‘Perhaps he thought you would be better off with your mother,’ he pointed out reasonably.

‘Perhaps he did, and he was right. But that didn’t mean he had to give me up completely. The agreement was that he had access to me any time he wanted. I don’t ever remember seeing him, or my grandfather.’

‘But surely——’

‘There can be no excuse for what he did, Tim,’ she interrupted tightly. ‘And I despise my grandfather even more for the way he manipulated my father.’

‘I take it Jason is going to try and make you change your mind about seeing him.’

She shrugged. ‘He can try, although I don’t think he’ll bother. He’s already told me he’s only doing this as a favour to my grandfather.’

Tim started up the car, manoeuvring out into the traffic. ‘You have to admit this evening was quite funny in a way,’ he gave a wry chuckle.

‘I’m glad you think so!’ She tried to sound angry, but somehow the humour of the situation reached her too. ‘You should have seen his face when he saw I was your date! Although I must say he recovered from it well.’

‘He must have done, I didn’t notice anything was wrong.’

‘You wouldn’t with a man like him.’ She sobered, her dislike back in full force.

Tim gave her a searching glance. ‘Why don’t you like him? Is it because he’s going to marry Isobel Morton?’

‘If Isobel is anything like I think she is then he deserves her,’ Eden snapped. ‘But I dislike him because he’s arrogant, egotistical, superior in every way. He’s just everything I despise in a man. His relationship with your sister while he intends marrying another woman is enough to prove what sort of man he is. I’m sorry, Tim, but I just don’t like him. He’s too sure of himself and other people’s reaction to him.’

‘Including your own?’

‘My dislike doesn’t bother him, in fact, he probably enjoys it. He enjoys tormenting me, anyway,’ she grimaced.

‘Tormenting you?’ Tim repeated sharply.

‘Well, teasing me, then. Oh, let’s not talk about him any more, Tim. He depresses me.’

‘How’s your headache?’ asked Tim.

‘Gone,’ she blushed.

‘You didn’t really have one, did you?’

‘No,’ she admitted.

‘I didn’t think so.’

‘I don’t suppose they thought I had either. But if I’d stayed there with him much longer I might have resorted to actually hitting the man.’ She shrugged. ‘What does it matter, they wanted to be alone and so did we.’

Tim smiled. ‘It doesn’t matter to me. If I’m not going to see you tomorrow I’ll have to make the most of tonight.’

‘I don’t want to have dinner with him. I can’t see the point of it when I’ve already made up my mind.’

‘I don’t suppose it will hurt to listen to him.’

‘Probably not.’ She grinned. ‘I’ll get a nice dinner out of him anyway.’

Tim halted the car outside her parents’ house. ‘Can I come in for coffee?’

Eden got out on to the sidewalk. ‘You don’t normally need to be asked.’

‘Great,’ he smiled, locking the car.

Eden moved about the kitchen preparing their coffee, the staff having finished for the day. Her mother and Drew weren’t back yet, so she and Tim had the house to themselves. Tim came into the kitchen just as she was placing the pot of coffee on the tray.

‘What are you smiling at?’ she frowned her puzzlement as he stood watching her with a silly grin on his face.

He leant back against the refrigerator, his arms folded across his chest. ‘I love to see women working in the kitchen.’

‘Chauvinist!’ She carried the tray into the lounge, sitting down to pour their coffee.

‘Not at all.’ Tim accepted a cup of the steaming liquid. ‘I’ve never seen my mother or Claire in a kitchen. I find it very comforting.’

Eden sat back, tucking her legs up beneath her. ‘I don’t suppose your mother or sister have ever found it necessary to go into the kitchen, you have more servants than family in your house.’ Despite her family not being exactly in the poverty bracket themselves, Eden had been a little overwhelmed by the unpretentious show of wealth in Tim’s parents’ home.

Mrs Channing had welcomed her with all the gracious politeness that had been bred into her, but Eden had still felt out of her depth among such opulence. The Channing house was set among the rolling acres that made up their estate. Eden had felt her first sense of apprehension as Tim drove the car down the long driveway, the security of getting into the ranch-style house quite frightening.

Tim’s mother had fitted into the luxury of her background perfectly, coming as she did from an old Southern family. The silk dress was tailored to her slim figure, her grey hair perfectly coiffured, making Eden feel quite underdressed in her fitted lemon trousers and matching shirt. Although not by the flicker of an eyelid did Mrs Channing show that she approved or disapproved of her guest’s appearance.

All in all it hadn’t been a successful visit, at least as far as Eden was concerned, and it hadn’t been something she had ever wanted to repeat, despite Tim’s constant pleading. She always had an excuse ready when he suggested they visit his parents.

It had been obvious from the first who was the driving force behind the Channing money; the mild unassuming Paul Channing certainly would not have made a success of his business without the help of his forceful but charming wife.

Tim’s mother certainly had no need to enter her kitchen unless she wanted to, the nearest she came to anything domestic being to approve the menus for the day.

Tim came to sit on the sofa beside Eden, his arm about her shoulders as he snuggled her into his side. ‘I didn’t come here to talk about my mother,’ his mouth caressed her throat. ‘How would you like to make this a permanent thing?’

Her heart began to beat erratically, then she cursed herself for jumping to conclusions. He could mean any number of things by that remark—she hoped! ‘Working in the kitchen?’ she teased.

‘No, silly,’ he chuckled. ‘Will you marry me, Eden?’ he asked seriously.

Eden moved back, her worst fears realised. ‘M-marry you?’ she gasped.

‘Will you?’ He looked anxious.

‘I—well, I—I don’t know,’ A nervous laugh caught in her throat. ‘It’s a bit sudden.’ She stood up to look down at him, wishing he hadn’t just asked her to marry him.

‘I love you,’ he said simply. ‘And I want to marry you. How do you feel about me?’

She wished she knew! Her uncertainty about her feelings was the reason she wished he hadn’t proposed. It had never occurred to her that he would ask her to marry him. She enjoyed his company, liked being with him, but marriage! She wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

‘I like you,’ she began slowly. ‘I like you very much.’

‘Enough to marry me?’ he cut in eagerly.

‘I—I’m not sure.’

He stood up. ‘Then how much do you like me?’

‘A lot. But marriage—well, that’s something different. I have things I want to do before I settle down. I want to travel.’

‘We could travel together.’

Eden shook her head. ‘Not that sort of travel. I want to just take off for a couple of years, work my way round from place to place. Secretaries are always in demand.’

Tim frowned. ‘You’ve never talked about this before.’

She shrugged. ‘It wasn’t something that came up for discussion.’

‘And your parents, how do they feel about it?’

She smiled. ‘They’re of the opinion that travel broadens the mind.’

‘I see.’ He bit his lip, for once not the confident young man she was used to. ‘And just when do you propose to “take off”?’

He was angry, she knew he was angry. ‘I haven’t decided yet,’ she told him awkwardly.

‘But marriage is definitely not part of your plans?’

‘Well, not yet. I didn’t know you had marriage in mind, Tim,’ she added almost pleadingly.

His cheeks had an angry flush to them. ‘What the hell do you think the last six weeks have been about?’

‘Well, certainly not marriage.’

He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Believe me, if I didn’t have marriage in mind we would have finished long ago.’

‘Meaning?’ she challenged, aware that they were having their first argument—and probably their last, by the sound of it. And it had all started from a proposal of marriage!

‘Meaning I don’t go in for these “no touching” relationships,’ he snapped.

‘Oh, I see.’ She was angry too now. ‘Well, don’t let me keep you. I wouldn’t want to stop you being with someone who feels the way you do about sex.’ She turned away.

Tim grasped her shoulders, spinning her round to face him, ‘Hey, come on, Eden! That wasn’t what I meant and you know it. I was just trying to show you that you’re special to me.’

The tension left her body. ‘I know—and I’m sorry. But I’m tired, and your proposal was rather a surprise.’ That was an understatement if ever she heard one. ‘I need time to think about it.’

‘How much time?’ Tim demanded, the harshness back in his voice.

‘I don’t know. It’s not something you can decide on overnight.’

‘Most people can decide on it straight away,’ he snapped, her good-humoured companion of the last few weeks not in evidence at all.

‘Well, I can’t. Or perhaps I can. If my needing time to be sure can make you this bad-tempered I hate to think what you would have done if I’d said a straight no!’

He moved to pull on the jacket to his suit. ‘If I were you I would start your travelling right away. Go to London with Jason to visit your grandfather, see how you like being alone in a country where you know no one—but don’t expect me to be waiting for you when you get back!’

‘I won’t!’ Her eyes flashed her anger.

‘Good, because I won’t be!’ Tim slammed the door on his way out.

She couldn’t believe the scene she had just been through. Tim had always seemed so sweet, so mild-tempered. He hadn’t been mild-tempered just now, he had been absolutely furious. He had obviously been upset by her indecision, but she didn’t think her reluctance to give him a definite answer should have resulted in that display of outraged anger.

Eden looked up as the door opened again, forcing a smile to her lips as she saw her parents had returned home. For a moment she had thought Tim had come back.

‘Have a nice evening?’ she asked them.

‘Very pleasant,’ her mother replied, throwing her evening bag down into a chair. ‘We saw Tim outside. He wasn’t his usual composed self.’

‘Oh,’ she said lamely. She had hoped she needn’t tell her parents of Tim’s proposal.

‘Have you upset him in some way?’ her mother probed.

‘I may have done,’ she evaded. Her mother wholly approved of Tim and wouldn’t be pleased at her refusing to marry him.

‘Either you have or you haven’t!’ Her mother’s voice was brittle.

‘Surely that’s their business, Angela,’ Drew cut in smoothly.

‘Don’t interfere,’ his wife ordered. She looked back at Eden. ‘Have you upset him?’

Drew sighed. ‘I think I’ll go to bed if this is going to turn into one of those long girlish discussions. Don’t be too long, darling,’ he advised his wife.

‘Goodnight, Daddy.’ Eden kissed him warmly on the cheek.

‘Angela?’ he queried.

‘I’ll be up in a moment,’ she told him vaguely. ‘Now,’ she pressed her daughter once they were alone, ‘what happened?’

‘I agree with Daddy,’ she frowned. ‘What happens between Tim and me is nobody’s affair but our own.’ She sighed as she saw her mother’s agitation rise. ‘Okay, I’ll tell you. I turned down his proposal of marriage and he didn’t like it.’

Her mother gasped. ‘You turned him down?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you mad?’ her mother demanded.

Eden shook her head. ‘I don’t love him.’

Her mother gave a harsh laugh. ‘What does that have to do with it?’

‘Quite a lot, I would have thought.’

‘Then you’re a fool. He’s heir to so much money you would never have to worry about it again.’

‘I don’t worry about it now,’ Eden pointed out.

‘Only because Drew and I have never let you go without anything. Believe me, I know what it’s like,’ Angela shuddered in remembrance. ‘I don’t want the hardship for you that I had during my marriage to your father.’

‘My father wasn’t poor.’

‘He was by the time David Morton had finished with him. He threw him out of the family house, took away his job, everything. We were so poor that—well, we were poor. Your father hated that, he’d always had money. And his father knew it, he knew exactly what to do to get him back into the fold. So you think seriously before you refuse to marry someone like Tim. It isn’t easy being poor.’

‘I’ve already refused him.’

‘Then you’re a fool. Call him tomorrow and tell him you’ve changed your mind.’

‘But I haven’t.’ Nothing her mother had just told her made any difference to how she felt about Tim.

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. ‘Does your refusal have anything to do with Jason Earle and this mad suggestion that you visit your grandfather?’

‘Of course not,’ Eden instantly denied.

‘I think it does. But you aren’t going to England to visit that old——’

‘Mummy,’ her voice was mild, effectively hiding her rising anger. ‘If I want to go to England then I shall go.’

‘We’ll see about that!’ Her mother slammed out of the room.

Eden shook her head dazedly. Now why had she said that? She had no intention of going to England to see David Morton.

CHAPTER THREE

EDEN told Jason Earle as much when she met him for dinner the next evening. He had called for her as he said he would, leaving the proposed discussion until they had arrived at his hotel and ordered dinner.

He studied her with cool grey eyes, and she was glad she had chosen to wear her one black evening gown, its simplicity of style giving her a sophistication she felt in need of against this man. Her perfectly proportioned body was shown to advantage in the figure-hugging dress, the ribbon shoulder straps displaying a tempting amount of smooth creamy flesh, the curve of her breasts just visible. She wore little make-up, what little she did wear emphasising her huge golden eyes.

She smiled at the waiter as he placed her chilled melon before her. ‘I do mean it, Mr Earle,’ the smile left her mouth as she looked at him. ‘England holds no appeal for me whatsoever.’

‘Not even your grandfather?’

Her wine glass landed with a thud on the table, spilling some of its contents. ‘Oh, damn!’ she muttered, beginning to mop up the liquid with her napkin as it rapidly soaked into the snowy white tablecloth.

‘Leave it,’ Jason ordered tersely.

‘But it will stain.’

He shrugged. ‘So what?’

‘So—I suppose you’re right,’ she threw the napkin down on to the table, inwardly cursing her awkwardness. ‘I don’t suppose a hotel like this will worry about one stained tablecloth.’ It was the most exclusive hotel in the area, and she felt sure Jason Earle would have the best suite it had. He had been treated like royalty since their arrival here, and quite frankly Eden found it a little unnerving. ‘Not even my grandfather, Mr Earle,’ she answered his question. ‘If David Morton can be called that. He broke my parents’ marriage up and then ignored us all these years.’

‘Your father was his son.’

‘And does that automatically make me his granddaughter?’

He sat back. ‘I would have thought so.’ He watched her with narrowed eyes.

‘I don’t agree. Drew is the person who helped bring me up.’ She gave a bitter smile. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Mr Earle, when I made that remark about automatically being David Morton’s grandchild I didn’t mean there was any doubt about it. My mother was always faithful to my father, it was David Morton who forced them apart.’

‘That doesn’t mean your mother was guiltless.’

‘No, but it doesn’t point to my father being so either. I’m sure there were faults on both sides, but I can’t forget eighteen years of silence from the grandfather who’s never shown that he cared whether I was alive or dead.’

‘Not even if he’s dying?’

Eden paled at the quietly voiced question, swallowing hard. She searched his harsh features for some sign or mockery, some indication that he didn’t mean what he said—but found none. His grey eyes were as coldly chilling as usual, his mouth just as cruel. She took a deep breath. ‘And is he?’

‘Yes.’

‘But I—I don’t understand. You didn’t mention this to my mother yesterday.’

‘I think we can assume that David’s death is not of great importance to your mother—in fact, she’d probably be pleased about it.’

‘My mother isn’t like that!’ she snapped. ‘Why is he dying? I know he’s old, but—He can’t be dying!’

Jason shrugged. ‘He recently had a heart attack, the next one will probably be fatal.’

‘Oh God!’ she groaned.

‘Indeed,’ he agreed. ‘Not very pleasant.’

Her golden eyes were shadowed. ‘How can you accept it so calmly? I thought he was a friend of yours. Doesn’t it affect you at all?’

‘Of course it affects me,’ he said impatiently. ‘But should you be reacting quite this strongly to hearing of the impending death of a man who you say means nothing to you?’

Eden turned her head away. ‘God, you’re cruel,’ she choked.

Jason stood up, pulling her to her feet to manoeuvre her out of the room with the minimum of effort. Eden looked up as he took her into one of the waiting lifts and pressed the button. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she demanded.

‘To my suite,’ he replied abruptly, keeping a firm hold of her arm.

‘Won’t that be misconstrued?’ she taunted sarcastically, reminding him of his comment of yesterday.

‘Possibly. But that would be preferable to you causing a scene in the dining-room,’ he added.

She glared up at him, resenting his superior height at that moment. ‘I wasn’t going to cause a scene.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really!’ she said crossly. ‘Obviously what you’d just told me came as something of a shock, but——’

‘Obviously,’ he cut in dryly.

‘But it was your attitude that upset me!’

He gave her a gentle push out of the lift, moving forward to unlock the door to the suite before ushering her inside. A flick of a switch illuminated the spacious sitting-room, the impersonality of its luxury not alleviated by any of this man’s personal possessions.

He moved to the extensive array of drinks on the trolley, pouring out some amber liquid into a glass before holding it out to her. ‘Why should my attitude upset you?’

‘Because it did.’ She looked at the glass he had given her. ‘What’s this?’

‘Brandy.’

Eden wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t like brandy.’

‘I thought it might help you over your apparent shock.’

‘I’m over it.’ She put the glassful of liquid down on the table untouched.

‘Sit down,’ he invited.

‘No, thank you,’ she replied stiffly. ‘Shall we go back downstairs?’

‘No.’

‘No?’ She licked her lips nervously.

Jason shook his head. ‘I’ll ask for dinner to be sent up.’ He picked up the telephone. ‘We can talk more freely up here.’

‘That may be so, but I——’

‘I don’t have any designs on your body,’ he said impatiently.

Colour flooded her cheeks. ‘I didn’t think you had, Mr Earle.’

‘Jason—call me Jason. After all, I call you Eden.’

‘I thought that was a privilege of your age,’ she taunted.

He showed by a tautening of his mouth that he didn’t appreciate her comment, talking into the telephone as he repeated their order for dinner to be sent up here. He turned to her. ‘Let’s leave my age out of it. And you might as well sit down, you aren’t leaving yet.’

‘Aren’t I?’ she challenged.

‘No.’

She had the feeling he would keep her here by force if she didn’t comply, so she sat down, saving herself the embarrassment of physically losing against him, because she would lose, she knew that. ‘My gran—David Morton——’ she broke off in confusion.

‘Your grandfather,’ he put in softly, standing over her and making her even more nervous.

‘David Morton,’ she said pointedly. ‘Has he been ill long?’

Jason poured himself a drink before coming to sit in the chair opposite her. ‘He had the first attack about six weeks ago.’

‘I see.’ She bit her lip. It was strange how the man’s illness affected her. After all that he had done to her mother she shouldn’t have cared. And yet she did—she did!

‘It was a very bad attack,’ Jason continued. ‘And the next one could come at any time.’

‘Probably fatal, you said?’

‘That’s right.’ He crossed one leg over the other, stretching them out in front of him. ‘And he would like to see you before he dies.’

This information put her in an intolerable position. She had no wish to go to England, no desire to see her grandfather, but she wasn’t normally a vindictive person, didn’t like to deliberately hurt anyone, and this appeared to be the wish of a dying man. She had the feeling that Jason Earle knew exactly what pressure he was putting on her, the emotional blackmail that not many people would be able to refuse. His final comment was a deliberate ploy to make her feel guilty, although why she should be made to feel that way when David Morton had been the one in the wrong all these years she had no idea. But she did feel guilty—and Jason Earle knew it.

She took a deep breath. ‘Why should he want to see me?’

‘I would have thought that was obvious.’

‘Not to me. You don’t ignore a grandchild all this time and then suddenly decide to take an interest because you have no other family.’

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