A Vengeful Deception

She frowned. ‘What made you presume I was the owner? I could have been anyone.’

‘The shop appeared to be empty of stock, and you were wielding a hammer with great determination.’

Before she could point out that he hadn’t really answered her question, he went on, ‘I rather got the impression that Savanna Sands is due to close down?’

‘It’s closed,’ she said flatly.

‘The end of a business, or a dream?’

His percipience was uncanny.

‘The latter. Since I was a child I’ve dreamt of running my very own bookshop.’

‘So what happened? Not enough customers, or not enough cash?’

‘Both. Tourist trade picks up in the summer, but I couldn’t wait till then. My overdraft was stretched to the limit, the lease was up, and the new owners of the building had doubled the rent.’

‘What will you do now?’

It was the same question Cleo had asked.

Anna gave the same answer. ‘As soon as Christmas is over, start looking for a job.’

‘An assistant in a bookshop maybe?’

Stung, she said, ‘I’m a qualified librarian.’

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him raise a well-marked brow, before he murmured, ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’

‘In a town this size I can’t imagine there are boundless opportunities, even for a qualified librarian?’

Hearing the mockery behind the politely phrased question, she made a point of not answering.

‘Of course, there’s always London,’ he pursued. ‘Or perhaps you feel a big city isn’t for you?’

He had the smooth abrasiveness of pumice-stone.

‘I know it isn’t. I lived and worked in London after I left college, and I was glad to leave it.’

‘You worked in a library?’

She shook her head. ‘I had a job as a secretary.’

‘But you were still keeping your dream alive.’

Though it was a statement rather than a question, she found herself answering, ‘Yes. At weekends, and in my spare time, I went to salerooms and auctions to try and collect together enough rare manuscripts and first editions to start my own business.’

‘An expensive undertaking, even for a well-paid secretary,’ he commented drily.

‘I had some capital.’ Annoyed that she’d let herself be provoked into telling a perfect stranger so much, she relapsed into silence, concentrating on her driving.

At the top of the long hill they skirted a bare spinney, where as a child she’d gathered wild primroses, before turning on to Old Castle Road.

The lights of Rymington, below them now and to their left, had vanished, blotted out by the falling snow. It was coming faster now, the wipers having a job to keep the windscreen clear.

Glancing to the right, Anna glimpsed the old red-brick wall of the Manor. The darkness and the conditions made it difficult to judge distances, but they couldn’t be too far away from the main gates.

Apparently reading her thoughts, her companion broke the silence to say, ‘Only a hundred yards or so to go. You’ll see the entrance in a moment.’

Just as he spoke, the headlights picked it up.

Anna had only ever seen the tall, wrought-iron gates closed. Now they stood wide open.

As she drove carefully through them and up the long, winding, unlit drive between tall trees, she remarked, ‘The weather seems to be getting worse. I expect your wife will be relieved to see you back.’

‘What makes you presume I’m married?’

‘Well…with all the shopping and everything…’

‘Even poor bachelors have to eat.’ He was undoubtedly laughing at her.

A shade stiffly, she said, ‘Of course.’

Through the snow the headlights picked up the bulk of a house and flashed across dark windows. It appeared to be deserted.

But of course it couldn’t be. A place the size of Hartington Manor was bound to have staff.

Yet, if there were servants, why had he been doing his own shopping?

She brought the car to a halt, and, remembering his injured arm, asked, ‘Can I help with the groceries?’

‘I’d be grateful if you would.’

Turning off the engine, she made to clamber out.

‘May I suggest that you wait here for a moment while I open the door and put on some lights? Normally the security lights would have been working, but the storm you mentioned earlier put an electricity substation out of action. We do have an emergency generator, but unfortunately it has only a very limited capacity.’

He retrieved the carrier, and she watched him walk through the snow to the house. Awkward, one-handed, he held the bag tucked beneath his arm while he felt in his pocket for the key and opened the door.

A moment later, the hall lights and a lantern above the door flashed on.

Switching off the car lights to save the battery, Anna lifted out the box and followed him into the house.

Shouldering the door shut against the snow blowing in, he led the way across a high, panelled hall, and into a large kitchen with a flagged floor and a massive inglenook fireplace.

In front of the hearth, where a log fire was already laid, were a couple of easy chairs and a small, sturdy table.

Beneath a deep shelf that held a gleaming array of copper saucepans and kettles was an Aga, which threw out a welcoming warmth. Around it, fitted in with care, marrying the old to the new, there was every modern convenience.

The only things missing seemed to be servants.

Anna put the box down on a long oak table and turned to the door.

‘Before you rush off,’ Gideon said, ‘I’ve a proposition to put to you.’

Watching her freeze, he added sardonically, ‘Oh, nothing improper, I assure you. It’s simply this: you’re in need of a job, and I’m in need of an experienced secretary-cum-librarian.’

Wondering if this was his idea of a joke, she looked at him warily.

‘Let me briefly explain. The internet gives me all the access I need to world markets, and enables me to buy and sell goods, services, whatever… So as soon as I’m properly established here, I intend to run my various business interests from home… Hence the need for a secretary.’

‘And a librarian?’

‘Hartington Manor has a very fine library, as you may well know.’

She half shook her head.

‘But for a while now it’s been somewhat neglected. I’d like to see it put in order and properly catalogued. With regard to salary, I thought something in the region of…’ He named a sum that no one in their right mind could have turned down.

When she merely stared at him, he added, ‘I hope you see that as reasonable?’

The slight edge to his tone made her wonder if he was waiting for some sign of gratitude or enthusiasm.

Before she could find her voice, however, he went on, ‘If you accept the post, I’d like you to start work straight after the holiday.’

There was a silence in which the confusion of her thoughts was barely contained.

Then, feeling the need to say something without committing herself, she asked the first thing that came into her head. ‘How big is the library?’

‘Quite large by private standards.’ He dangled the bait. ‘Why don’t you have a look?’

She took it. ‘I’d like to.’

Even if she didn’t accept the job, the opportunity to have a quick look at the Manor’s library was one she couldn’t miss.

‘Then please feel free.’

He made no immediate move to take her and, somewhat at a loss, she waited.

It appeared that his thoughts were straying, because it was a few seconds before he said, ‘If you come with me, I’ll show you where the library is.’

He led her back across the hall, past an imposing central staircase on one side of which—rather incongruously, she thought—stood a large brass gong, and, opening one of the double oak doors at the rear, switched on the lights.

‘I’m afraid it’s not very warm in here. The central heating is electric, so at the moment it’s not working.’

Casually, he added, ‘You could probably do with a hot cup of tea? I know I could, so I’ll go and put the kettle on while you take a look around.’

With a little smile, he closed the door quietly behind him and left her to it.

CHAPTER TWO

THE library was a high, handsome room, with a large stone fireplace and mullioned windows. On every wall there were shelves from floor to ceiling, filled with an array of books that delighted Anna’s heart.

At first glance everything seemed to be well cared for. She could discern none of the neglect that Gideon Strange had mentioned.

In one corner was a little pulpit-staircase. It was made of dark oak and beautifully carved; a polished handrail supported by banisters followed the spiral of the steps.

She went over to it and found it moved easily on hidden castors. Slipping off her boots, she climbed the smooth treads and found she could reach the top shelf of books with ease.

Working here would be a pleasure.

But did she want to work for Gideon Strange?

One half of her wanted to very much, but the sensible half warned against it.

Perhaps because of a fancied resemblance to David, there was a physical attraction that made being with him disturbing, to say the least. But could she afford to turn down a chance that, had her prospective employer been anyone else, she would have jumped at?

Perhaps if she asked for a few days to consider his offer? By the time Christmas was over she might feel differently, be able to face the thought of working for him with equanimity.

But who was she trying to fool? He was too charismatic, too strong a personality, altogether too dangerous for her peace of mind.

Though she’d only seen him relatively briefly, that tough, handsome face, with its breathtaking charm and more than a hint of arrogance, was etched indelibly on her mind.

The green eyes, long and narrow and heavily lashed; the chiselled mouth—oh, that mouth!—firm and clean-cut, a fascinating combination of strength and sensuality.

Rather like David’s, but with added maturity.

No, she was wrong. David’s mouth, while charming, had totally lacked that strength. It might even have been a little weak.

To her great surprise she realised that David had suddenly become shallow and lightweight compared to Gideon Strange…

Which only stiffened her resolve to refuse his offer. Having been badly burnt once had made her wary. He had the kind of explosive sexuality that made her want to run, and keep running…

A soft patter of snow being dashed against the windows drew her attention. The plum velvet curtains were open, and through the darkness pressing against diamond-leaded panes she could see the white flakes scurrying past.

It seemed the wind was rising.

If she didn’t leave quite soon she might have difficulty getting back to Cleo’s, where everything was light and bright and modern, and the only books were dog-eared paperbacks jostling for space on chipboard shelves.

She descended the steps carefully, put on her boots and, after switching off the lights, hurried back to the kitchen.

The shopping had been unpacked and the thick folk-weave curtains drawn across the windows. A bunch of mistletoe with gleaming white berries lay on the draining board.

Still wearing his jacket, and looking even taller and broader than she remembered, Gideon Strange was putting tea things on a tray. His fair hair, she noticed, was a little rumpled and quite wet.

Glancing up, he said easily, ‘Ah, there you are. The tea’s already made.’

Just the sight of him, the sound of his voice, told her that she hadn’t been mistaken about his intense attraction. Well, she wouldn’t be caught in that trap again. She had shed too many tears over David to want to repeat the experience.

‘Thanks, but I really haven’t time,’ she said briskly.

His tone studiously casual, he refused to take no for an answer. ‘Just a quick cup before you go. You must be more than ready for one.’

She was, but anxiety to escape, to get on her way, was her prime consideration.

‘Milk and sugar?’ he asked politely.

‘Just a little milk, please.’

Seeing him fumble one-handed to open a four-pint plastic bottle of milk, she said, ‘Let me.’

Watching her deftly undo the top, remove the seal and half fill a jug, he said reflectively, ‘I could do with you staying until I get the use back in this blasted arm.’

‘But surely you can’t be on your own here?’

Without answering, he poured out two cups of tea and, handing her one, suggested, ‘Why don’t you sit down for a minute?’

Remaining standing, she protested, ‘You must have servants? I mean, in a place this size…’ Her voice tailed off helplessly.

‘In the normal way of things there’s a full staff, of course. But the Manor hasn’t been occupied since my father died. Only Mary Morrison, who was my father’s secretary, and her husband Arthur, who used to be the chauffeur, stayed on. They’ve lived here since before I was born, so they regard it as their home—’

‘But if your father’s secretary still lives here, why do you need to engage another one?’

Without a flicker of an eyelid, he answered, ‘Because Mary is turned sixty and looking forward to a quiet life rather than a full-time job.’

When Anna said nothing further, he went on, ‘The Morrisons haven’t had a holiday this year, and they wanted to go up to Scotland to spend Christmas and New Year with Arthur’s sister. I wasn’t expecting to be back in time for Christmas, so I told them to close up the house and go ahead.’

More than a little surprised by his long-winded explanation—it didn’t seem to be his style at all—she asked, ‘Then there’s no one else here?’

‘No, indeed.’ With soft emphasis he added, ‘We’re quite alone.’

His words seemed to hold more than a hint of satisfaction, and she felt a sudden disquiet. She’d been on edge from the start, but this was different.

Repressing a shiver brought on by apprehension, Anna warned herself not to let her imagination run riot.

Yet something in his manner, and the knowledge that they were quite alone, was far from reassuring. It must be a good half-mile to the road, and a great deal more than that to the nearest house…

Resolutely pushing away that alarming thought, she reminded herself firmly that Gideon Strange was the son of a well-respected baronet, and the new owner of Hartington Manor.

Of course he posed no threat, had no designs on her. Why on earth should he? She was just a stranger who, because of the circumstances, had given him a lift home, and to whom he’d offered a job.

If there were any more personal feelings, they were on her side… Which was why she’d decided not to accept his offer.

As though he could see into her mind, he said, ‘I take it you’ve come to a decision?’

‘Y-you mean about the job?’ she stammered. ‘Well, I…’ Then, chickening out, knowing it would be a lot easier to say no from the other end of a telephone, she lied, ‘I—I’d like a chance to think it over, if you don’t mind.’

His green eyes glinted. ‘I actually meant about staying here. Don’t you think, as we’re both on our own, that it would be nice if we were to spend Christmas together?’

Trying to believe he was teasing, she answered as lightly as possible, ‘Thanks for the offer, but I couldn’t possibly stay.’

Finishing her tea as quickly as she could, she put her cup back in the saucer with a little rattle, and, striving to sound casual, remarked, ‘Cleo will be wondering where on earth I’ve got to.’

Dark brows lifted a fraction. ‘I understood you to say she wasn’t expecting you?’

Cursing herself for telling him so much, Anna said weakly, ‘She knows me well enough to be certain I’d change my mind. Now I really must be going. They eat about seven, as soon as the twins have gone to bed…’

‘Well, if I can’t persuade you to stay,’ he murmured regretfully, ‘I’ll see you to the door.’

At that instant the lights flickered and went out.

Anna’s gasp was audible.

‘Don’t worry.’ In the darkness, Gideon’s voice sounded unconcerned. ‘It’s the generator. I’m afraid it’s on the blink. If you stay where you are for a moment, I’ll find a candle.’

Just as he finished speaking, the lights flashed on again, brilliant after the momentary blackness.

With a feeling of relief she hurried out of the kitchen and, trying belatedly to look as if she wasn’t escaping, crossed the hall to the front door.

Though she’d had several seconds’ start, and Gideon didn’t appear to be moving quickly, he was there before her.

His back to the dark wood, blocking her way, he said, ‘Let me know about the job, won’t you?’

‘Yes… Yes, I will.’

‘Oh, just one more thing…’

She paused and looked up at him. Close to, he dwarfed her five feet seven inches, and his shoulders seemed as wide as a barn door.

He lifted his right hand over their heads and, before she could react to the sprig of mistletoe he held, bent his head and kissed her on the lips.

For a few endless seconds she stood transfixed while that firm mouth covered hers, making her heart race and her head spin. Then, jerking away as though she’d been scalded, she brushed past him and pulled open the door.

She was shocked to find everywhere was white-over and a full-scale blizzard had started to blow. Snowflakes gusted in, swirling round their heads like handfuls of icy confetti.

‘I think it would be extremely unwise to set off in conditions like these,’ Gideon advised evenly.

Panic-stricken at the thought of having to stay, she insisted, ‘I’ll be all right, really I will. I don’t have too far to go.’

Disturbed, almost shocked by the effect of that relatively innocent kiss, she knew wild horses would have had a job to keep her there.

‘Well, do take care.’

Ducking her head, she made her way through the driving white curtain to the car.

Standing in the doorway, Gideon called after her, ‘Goodnight, Anna, and a merry Christmas.’

Somehow she managed, ‘Thank you, and the same to you.’

Slamming the car door behind her, she fastened her seat belt and felt for the keys which she’d left in the ignition.

Though the lights came on feebly, proving it wasn’t the battery, the engine flatly refused to start.

‘Try it without the lights,’ Gideon shouted, appearing at the car window.

She tried repeatedly, without success and with growing desperation.

Opening the car door a crack, he remarked cheerfully, ‘It doesn’t seem to be firing.’

Endeavouring to speak calmly, she asked, ‘Is there anything you can do?’

‘I’m sorry to say I don’t know much about machinery.’ Humorously, he added, ‘When I tried tinkering with the generator I only seemed to make matters worse.’

In an odd kind of way his answer surprised her. She had put him down as a man who would be able to deal with almost anything.

‘You don’t have another car, I suppose?’ She was clutching at straws.

‘I’m afraid not. All the family cars were sold after my father died.’

Freezing snow was blowing in, settling on her hair, making her shiver. ‘Then it will have to be a taxi.’

‘I doubt if any taxis will continue to run in these conditions.’

‘It’s quite likely that the main roads will still be clear. Please will you phone for me?’

‘Sorry. That isn’t possible.’

‘Why isn’t it possible?’ she asked sharply.

‘Because the phone isn’t working. The gales blew down several trees, which in turn brought down the line…’ He was having to shout, the wind whipping away his words. ‘I gather it will be after Christmas before they get round to mending it.’

‘Haven’t you got a mobile phone?’ Most people had these days. Though of course he was newly over from the States…

Opening the door fully, he said, ‘Yes, I hired one. But unfortunately I wasn’t thinking, and I left it in my car.’ Then, briskly, ‘Now, may I suggest you come back inside, before we both freeze to death?’

For one mad moment she toyed with the idea of setting off on foot, until common sense reminded her that it must be something in the region of five miles back to where Cleo lived.

It would be unwise, to say the least, to attempt to walk that far at night and in a raging blizzard, wearing high-heeled fashion boots.

Fate, it seemed, was against her.

Seeing nothing else for it, she clambered out.

‘I expect you’ll be wanting these.’ Reaching over, he used his right hand to gather up her bag and case from the rear seat, then leaned against the car door to close it.

Head down against the driving snow, her teeth clenched to stop them chattering, Anna followed him back to the house.

The air inside felt almost as cold as the outside, and a drift of snow, blown in through the partly open door, powdered the dark oak floorboards.

Using his foot to shut the door behind them, Gideon remarked, ‘As I said earlier, the central heating isn’t working, so with an Aga that runs on either gas or solid fuel, the warmest place in the house is the kitchen.’

He led the way back there and, putting her belongings on an old settle, shrugged out of his wet jacket and hung it on one of a row of large, wooden pegs.

‘Let me.’ Having one-handedly helped her off with her coat, he hung it beside his own, before finding a couple of towels. ‘Better dry your hair. You don’t want to catch a chill.’

He rubbed his own head then, leaving the towel hanging around his neck, crossed to the huge fireplace, both sides of which were stacked with kindling, split logs and sawn-off branches the size of young trees.

Anna dried her face. Her cheeks felt stiff and frozen, her ears were numb, and she could tell her nose was red.

While she removed the pins and rubbed her long, dark hair, she watched him take a match from the box, strike it with a flick of his thumbnail, and crouch on his haunches to light the kindling.

Then, his right hand flat on the stone hearth, he leaned forward to blow the faltering flame into life.

She noticed that he wore a heavy gold signet-ring on his fourth finger, before her eyes were drawn to his handsome profile.

Once again she saw a sneaking likeness to David.

But while David’s profile had been just as handsome, it had had nothing of the ruthless quality that this man’s possessed.

Using both hands to pull back her still damp hair, she knotted it loosely in the nape of her neck, while a shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the cold.

What on earth was she going to do, stranded here alone with this disturbing stranger?

Her practical streak pointed out that there wasn’t much she could do. Somehow she would have to pull herself together and make the best of things. At least until the blizzard stopped.

But even if it did stop she wouldn’t be able to leave until morning, and the thought of having to spend the night here was a nerve-racking one, to say the least…

Glancing up, he said sardonically, ‘There’s no need to look quite so scared. I only turn into a werewolf at full moon.’

She was hoping he couldn’t see the colour that his words had whipped into her cheeks, when he added, ‘Come and get warm by the fire.’

Chilled to the bone, needing no more urging, Anna went over to stand in front of the huge fireplace where the logs were blazing merrily and already starting to throw out a comforting heat.

Watching him use his right hand to pull up an easy chair for her, Anna felt a sudden shame that she’d thought only of herself and not of him. His elbow must have taken a nasty knock, and if the life was starting to come back into it he might well be in considerable pain.

‘Would you like me to take a look at your arm? If you have a first aid box, it’s possible there may be some liniment, or something that would help to ease any—’

‘I’m sure you’d make a charming nurse,’ he broke in smoothly, ‘but it really isn’t necessary. It will no doubt be good as new by morning. Now, I propose we have an aperitif, while I rustle us up something to eat.’