The whole world thought she was having an affair with Lloyd Elliot, the producer of the film she’d just starred in. She’d read countless articles about how she’d heartlessly broken up his marriage. Her motivation, so said the general consensus, had been to further her career. Lloyd’s estranged wife, the tempestuous singer Dallas, had given some very moving ‘brave victim’ interviews. If Hope hadn’t known she and Lloyd had been living separate lives for years, she’d have been touched herself!

When Hope had agreed to divert public attention from the real new love of Lloyd’s life, she hadn’t realised just how much that decision was going to affect her and her family. It was too late to wonder, with hindsight, whether her decision might have been different if she had known. But her family knew the truth, and before long, when Lloyd went public about the real object of his affections, so would everyone else.

‘It’ll be a relief,’ she admitted to her father. ‘You certainly get to know who your real friends are. And today wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be, unless I’m getting over the paranoia.’

‘It seemed you were making a new friend.’

‘Someone doesn’t miss much,’ Hope responded drily; the casual tone didn’t fool her for a second.

‘Your mother did happen to mention that you had Alex Matheson in tow.’

‘I wouldn’t phrase it quite like that. He’s an interesting man.’

‘Not an easy man to get to know, though—aloof… He’s never really gotten involved in village life. I’ve known him since he was a boy, and he always supports local charities and fund-raisers very generously, but…’ He frowned, trying to put into words his doubts about Alex Matheson. Women were strange creatures, they probably found the fact the man was something of an enigma attractive.

Hope was torn between irritation and exasperated affection. Sometimes her parents forgot how long she’d been out in the big bad world.

‘So, he’s a private person. At least he didn’t treat me like some sort of scarlet woman! There’s no need to look so worried, Dad. I’m not about to do anything stupid.’ Am I? she silently asked herself. Wasn’t there something very appealing about doing something very stupid with Alex Matheson?

Charlie Lacey enfolded his daughter in a bear-like hug. ‘I know you’re a sensible girl,’ he said gruffly.

Am I? Hope wondered, recalling with a shiver the smouldering expression in Alex’s eyes as he’d left.

CHAPTER TWO

THE curls that had escaped the fat plait Hope had tied her hair in were tugged this way and that in the gusting winds. Her light waterproof jacket cut out the worst of it, but her nose felt distinctly pink as she strode sure-footedly over the hillside.

Bishop’s Crag was a well-known landmark; it was the highest point for several miles around. She knew the spot well, but it had been years since she’d been here. She paused to get her breath and inhaled deeply. She’d forgotten how beautiful her home county was. She was surprised to see a light dusting of early snow on this high ground.

Alex Matheson was different; she had to give him that! No romantic candlelight to sweep a girl off her feet for him. Possibly this was some sort of endurance test he put all his prospective girlfriends through. The thought made her grin. Then a shaft of shock swept through her as she recognised the direction her thoughts had been taking her.

She didn’t have boyfriends. At least she hadn’t in a long time. There had been the brief, intense involvement with Hugh Gilmour, her first agent, but that had been short-lived. Since then she hadn’t felt the need, or desire, to become involved with any man. She’d made a few good friends within the industry, and some of them were men, but she’d never felt inclined to push friendship farther.

‘Boyfriend.’ The wind tugged the word from her lips. No, she shook her head, there was nothing vaguely boyish about Alex; he was all man.

She was about to continue when a flicker of movement on the periphery of her vision caught her attention. To her left, on higher ground, just below a clump of trees, their skeletal winter frames permanently bent by the constant buffeting of high winds, he stood—a solitary figure who would never be bent by any storm.

She automatically followed the skyward direction of his stare. A dark dot appeared to fall quite literally from the sky before wheeling at an impossible angle and skimming the ground. It landed on Alex’s outstretched arm.

Awed by this primal display of aerobatics, Hope waved to the solitary figure. He didn’t respond, but she put this down to the fact he was handling the bird on his wrist.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you had a hawk?’ she panted as she finally reached his side. Hope’s cheeks were glowing from her exertion. Her fascinated eyes touched the bird on his gauntleted hand before she smiled at the man.

‘She’s a falcon.’ There had been more warmth in the beady, unblinking stare of the bird of prey.

She didn’t need to be psychic to experience a premonition of dread. The wind ruffled and tugged at his thick hair, but his face was as hard as the rock he was balanced upon. He looked as much at home in the bleak landscape as his bird. He extended his arm and the creature took flight.

‘Aren’t you afraid she won’t come back?’

‘She occasionally absconds, but she always comes back to me.’ With a minute alteration of his features he managed to imply that the concept of such faithfulness was beyond Hope’s grasp.

‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’ All those romantic scenarios she’d built up in her head were disintegrating under the ruthless glare of reality. It was ironic that she’d smiled stoically through the mud-slinging of the past few weeks and now all this man had to do was flare a nostril and she felt her blood pressure rising and her heart bleeding!

‘Why should anything be wrong, Hope?’

His sarcastic drawl made her feel helpless and angry. The last dregs of her bubbling anticipation drained away under the cold glare of his eyes.

‘That’s what I’d like to know. And will you get down off that damned crag? It’s impossible to talk to someone who’s looming over me,’ she responded, exasperated and dismayed by his peculiar attitude. Could this be the same man she had spoken to yesterday? ‘If you’re having second thoughts, fine—but is there any need to freeze me out?’

Looking at her glowing, apparently innocent face brought a sneer to his lips. He jumped down from the rocky crag with one lithe movement.

This display of agility in such a big man took Hope by surprise. If she’d imagined he would be less intimidating at eye level she soon discovered her mistake—controlled fury was the only way to describe the expression on his face. Her bewilderment and confusion were snowballing.

Over his shoulder she saw the falcon drop onto a small bird, probably a pigeon. Her imagination conjured up cruel talons tearing into the fragile frame of its prey. She shuddered. They made a good pair, man and bird. If he’d had talons she could readily imagine him sinking them into her.

‘Why did you ask me if I was married?’

‘Because I don’t…’ Her voice suddenly trailed off. Things slipped unpleasantly into place. ‘You hadn’t read any of the articles about—’

‘About you and your married lover. A fact you took full advantage of,’ he observed derisively. ‘I did tell you I’d been out of the country.’

‘That’s me—never let an opportunity to snare a poor, defenceless male pass me by. Of course, it would have been more satisfying if you’d had a wife and ten children.’ She spat the words from between clenched teeth.

To think I was impressed he hadn’t been influenced by the scurrilous tales! To think I thought he was warm and interesting! The fact that he was still the most virile male she’d ever met only intensified her disappointment. ‘An invalid mother would have been icing on the cake.’ Flippancy covered the pain of having her eyes opened to his true personality.

‘I can’t abide fakes,’ he responded in an austere manner that made her temper climb to new heights.

‘I can’t abide sanctimonious bores!’

‘Your family must have been going through hell.’

‘Thanks to nasty-minded creeps like you, they probably still are!’

‘Don’t try to transfer the guilt you feel to me, Hope. I suppose it’s something that you’re still capable of feeling guilt…’

‘And still capable of wrapping a sucker like you around my little finger.’ She’d hit the nail right on the head there; she could see it from the flash of rage in his eyes. That was all his outrage was about: he didn’t like the idea his judgement could be flawed. The great Alex Matheson didn’t get taken for a ride by anyone!

‘I’m sure you’ve had a great deal of practice; you’re very professional.’

She gasped, as if the slow, deliberate drawl had been a blow. The sound of her open palm as it struck the side of his face was like a whip-crack. ‘Oh, God, look what you made me do!’ She barely had time to shriek the words before the bird streaked past her face. Alex knocked her to the ground and the creature sped away.

He squatted beside her as she raised her head and groaned. ‘It’s only a superficial scratch. You were lucky.’

Her fingers curled in the mossy soil. ‘Break out the champagne to celebrate,’ she croaked. She gave a whimper and her head dropped once more. A sheen of cold perspiration covered her pale skin and beaded along her upper lip. She battled to overcome the waves of nausea.

‘There won’t be a scar.’ She flinched back as he touched the side of her cheek. ‘It barely broke the skin.’

‘It’s not that.’ She took several deep breaths and prayed she wouldn’t disgrace herself totally. ‘I’m going to throw up and it’s all your fault.’ This was always the aftermath of a brief flash of blind rage, this humiliating physical helplessness.

At least he had the sense to give her some privacy. As creeps went, he was fairly sensitive. A few minutes later she got to her feet and climbed the rocky outcrop he was sitting upon.

‘Are you pregnant?’ That made her lose her footing. Arms windmilling wildly, she managed not to fall, though that could hardly be more humiliating than losing her breakfast in front of him.

‘I’d hardly be blaming you if I was, would I?’ she responded, choosing a flattish piece of ground to sit upon, not too close to him. She felt the slight welt where the bird’s claws had grazed her face. She took out a tissue and spat on it. ‘Didn’t I read somewhere that saliva’s antiseptic?’ she wondered out loud. She dabbed the material to her face, blotting the small droplets of blood.

‘She thought you were attacking me. She’s very sensitive.’

And I’m a block of wood! God, he’s priceless! ‘I was, and no matter what anyone tells you my temper has been wildly exaggerated.’ She couldn’t help the hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice. The family joke about her left hook had worn pretty thin years ago, and she’d worked really hard to control her more instinctual responses. It wasn’t as if she liked losing her temper; it made her sick—physically sick afterwards. She was still shaking with reaction.

‘Under the circumstances I’m not going to disagree with you. I’d like to keep my other cheek intact.’

‘I’ve never hit anyone smaller than me.’

‘That must certainly reduce your field.’

‘That’s a cheap crack. I thought you had more class.’

‘And you’d know all about class, I suppose?’ He moved closer in time to see the flash of anger in her eyes. The absence of colour in her cheeks emphasised the brilliance of their blue. If he’d wanted to he could have counted the number of freckles that were scattered over the bridge of her nose. Make-up on a face like hers really would be a case of gilding the lily. ‘And if you’re thinking of taking another swing at me, I warn you I’m not into meek acceptance.’

That makes two of us, she thought, narrowing her eyes and lifting her chin. ‘I’m sorry I hit you.’ The words emerged with the utmost reluctance. ‘But you deserved it!’ She couldn’t prevent the heartfelt postscript. She was proud of the fact she’d tamed her temper, and she didn’t like being reminded that at times she could still lose control. ‘I haven’t hit anyone in…’

‘Hours?’

This ironic suggestion made her teeth gouge painful inroads into her full lower lip. ‘Years,’ she responded with icy dignity. She could still recall the occasion when the stupidity of losing her cool had been brought home to her pretty sharply.

When she and her sisters had come across those yobs threatening to drop the puppy off the bridge into the river, their taunts had made her see red. While she’d been giving the ringleader a bloody nose Anna had been jumping off the bridge into a raging torrent after the puppy and Lindy had been racing downstream to rescue them both. She supposed the incident, which could so easily have ended in tragedy, said quite a lot about their different personalities.

‘At least you’re ashamed of your latest escapade.’

‘Hitting you?’ ‘Ashamed’ was pitching a bit strong.

‘Breaking up a marriage.’

‘Oh, that,’ she said airily. She flicked him a sideways glance—yes, he looked as if he had a particularly unpleasant taste in his mouth. Thinking about his stern mouth made her stomach lurch. It was hard to forget she’d wondered what his lips would feel like, how he’d taste… She willed the flood of warmth that began low in her belly not to spread its heat to her trembling limbs. The last thing she needed right now was her brain to be befuddled by that sort of thing!

Well, I’d as soon be hung for a sheep as a lamb, and if he wants a scarlet woman, who am I to disappoint him? One thing she wasn’t going to be was a penitent sinner who could be redeemed by the marvellous Mr Matheson.

‘Lloyd’s not a child; he’s quite capable of making his own decisions. I think,’ she mused thoughtfully, ‘you’ll find he’s very grateful to me.’ And he’s got reason to be, she silently added.

‘Did his wife send you a thank-you card?’ He regarded her with fastidious distaste.

‘Not exactly.’ Hope winced at the memory of her last encounter with Lloyd’s famous wife. Dallas had brought along several busloads of the press to record her public humiliation. Apparently the publicity had done the sales of her latest album no harm at all, but Hope didn’t imagine she’d receive the credit for that. She chuckled softly at the idea.

‘Have you no shame at all?’ His face was dark with disgust. ‘You find it all a joke?’ he asked with incredulous disgust. ‘Are you really that self-centred and selfish?’

‘Which question shall I answer first?’ she puzzled, finger on the small cleft in her chin. ‘Or were they all rhetorical?’ How was I ever attracted to this man? she wondered. He’s narrow-minded and petty! The mocking smile slid from her face, leaving an expression of scornful contempt. ‘My conscience is quite clear, thank you, Alex,’ she said crisply.

The way his knuckles turned white strangely fascinated her. To look at his face you’d never guess he wants to strangle me, she thought. She was quite familiar with the urge to lash out, but she was confident that he was far too controlled to give in to the impulse to strangle her, or even the one to kiss her. This sudden startling insight made her eyes widen suddenly. The fact that he’d decided she wasn’t worthy of his notice didn’t stop him from lusting after her. And Alex Matheson was a man who prided himself on being in control of his emotions.

‘Do you like playing games with people?’ His icy glare impaled her.

‘A girl’s got to amuse herself.’ The nerve in his taut jaw did a triple backflip at that one.

‘Is that what you were doing with me?’ The flicker in his hooded eyes made Hope feel uneasy, but she wasn’t going to back pedal now.

She tilted her head, as if giving the idea serious consideration. It would be a small revenge for the insults Alex Matheson had heaped upon her.

‘Well I’ve got to do something for the next month, and I do find older men, with that air of authority, so attractive. I’m quite willing to sacrifice youthful stamina for…’ she gave a delicate laugh ‘…competence. I like experienced men,’ she confided, with her best come-hither smile. ‘But this isn’t Hollywood, is it?’ she murmured regretfully. ‘If you’d been married it wouldn’t really have been worth the hassle.’

To think he’d thought her untainted by the life she’d led. To think he’d been enchanted by her open warmth and transparent sincerity! The throbbing in his temples reached new heights. In a different frame of mind Alex would undoubtedly have paused to reflect on the contradictory nature of Hope’s responses. But Alex didn’t pause; he reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders. He glimpsed shock and dismay in her wide blue eyes before he kissed her.

The pressure of his mouth bent her body back until her head touched the springy moss-covered ground. His hands moved from her shoulders to frame her face, effectively immobilising it. Not that Hope had any thoughts of fighting; she had no thoughts at all. The only information that filtered into her brain concerned simple things, like smell, texture and taste. The smell of the leather gauntlet on his right hand, the wool of his sweater and the citrusy spice of the masculine fragrance he used. The texture of his firm mouth, the sensation as his tongue thrust into the recesses of her mouth and the taste of him… Now she knew. Now she’d never be able to forget it.

It stopped just as suddenly as it had begun. The weak sunlight that his head had blotted out filtered through the transparent thinness of her closed eyelids. She listened to the echo of her own heartbeat.

‘Say something,’ he said thickly. ‘At least look at me.’ If he hadn’t been able to see her chest rising and falling he wouldn’t have known she was alive. Her hair was spread around her face, a rich golden frame. The permanent indentation between his eyes deepened as he stared down at her.

A smile tugged the corners of her mouth. ‘How can I refuse an offer like that? Or was it an order? Don’t look so surprised, Alex. What did you expect? Hysteria? I’ve been kissed before…’ Not like that, never like that. Her nervous system had shut down, unable to accept the messages being fed it. ‘Admittedly with more finesse…’ To her surprise he perceptibly flinched. He flexed his massive shoulders and his glance slid momentarily from her face.

She was no weakling, but Alex hadn’t needed to use more than a fraction of the strength in that awesome upper body to immobilise her. And all the time she’d been aware of the staggering strength he held in check. She hadn’t just been aware of it—she’d been deeply excited by it. Alien emotions churned in her belly.

‘We’re quits,’ he observed flatly.

‘Given the choice, I’d have taken a slapped face.’ A dull red spread over the hard contours of his cheekbones and she felt a surge of satisfaction. ‘Though I’m sure you’re not the sort of man who’d strike a female.’ Her voice was laced with sarcasm.

‘I’m sorry I lacked finesse,’ he bit back.

Sprawling here, she felt rather vulnerable, but she didn’t want to risk moving until she had full control over her limbs again. ‘It was a bit naive of me to expect subtlety from someone like you. I don’t expect imagination is your strong point—’ With a yelp of alarm she closed her eyes. He moved with amazing fluidity for someone of his build.

When she risked opening one eye he was kneeling beside her. The muscles of her abdomen clenched in anticipation of sitting upright. They relaxed instantaneously as he ran the tip of one callused forefinger experimentally down the side of her cheek. Each microscopic downy hair on her smooth skin danced in response. A sound escaped her lips as the air fled from her lungs in one gasp.

‘I never did know when to stop,’ she croaked. ‘I’m sure you’re as subtle as hell.’

‘For an elderly male with limited reserves of stamina?’ he suggested silkily.

‘Can’t you take a joke?’ He was removing the thick padded gauntlet from his hand. A girl who got turned on by looking at a man’s hands was in serious trouble, she reflected wildly.

‘Creativity takes many shapes and forms.’ He lowered himself on one elbow and brushed the tangled curls from her brow. ‘I may be colour-blind…’

‘How fascinating,’ she replied in a high-pitched voice. ‘Colour-blind.’ He’d tugged the zip of her waterproof jacket far enough down to give his mouth access to the base of her throat. ‘This is silly.’

Her words emerged as a breathy gasp rather than a sharp reprimand. She dug her fingers into his rich pelt of hair in order to jerk his head away, but the warm lash of his tongue against the pulse-spot made her fingers curl against his scalp in a manner more intended to hold him against her than repel him.

The open-mouthed assaults on her neck tore a series of soft, guttural moans from Hope’s throat. Alex lowered his body as he moved higher, until by the time he was at eye level with her they lay thigh to thigh, chest to chest on the sloping ground.

‘It must be difficult for someone used to delicate refinement to be exposed to such crude clumsiness.’ The rasp of his voice was close to her ear. His lips grazed the same orifice and sent electrical tremors down to the tip of her curling toes.

Her blue eyes were swimming as she met his hard gaze; her stare was hazy and unfocused. This was torture; each soft, arousing salute was agony. How could so little make her crave so much? He hadn’t even touched her body, but she was pierced by a desire so intense she could hardly breathe.

Handicapped by inarticulate frustration and raw need, her first move in response wasn’t loaded with finesse. She raised her head a little, dug her fingers hard into his scalp and pressed her lips, chastely closed, to his mouth.

She was breathing fast and hard when she lifted her mouth from his. Grey eyes clashed with blue.

‘I want…’ Emotion clogged her throat.

‘A bit of rough?’ The suggestion was as hard as the calculating expression in his eyes.

For a second she couldn’t believe what she’d heard. Being plunged into ice was remarkably sobering. She bit down on her lower lip to stop the hurt cry escaping the confines of her throat. She drew her knees protectively up to her chest and rolled over onto her side. Though her knees were shaking, she managed to get to her feet gracefully.

If she’d looked back he’d have been able to see the tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks, so she didn’t look back.

‘She’s invited who?’

Beth Lacey didn’t appear to notice her daughter’s horrified expression.

‘Alex Matheson, dear, to make up the numbers. Mind you, he and Adam get on quite well, I believe. They play tennis together, you know.’

‘I didn’t know,’ Hope replied faintly.

‘I did mention to Anna that you and he got on really well at the wedding. Shall I do a lemon tart, or be really naughty and risk the chocolate meringue?’ She waited expectantly and gave an impatient sigh when her daughter regarded her blankly. ‘I told you, we’re bringing the pudding. Anna’s got enough on her hands without entertaining, but you know Anna, once she’s made up her mind. At least she’s limiting it to family—and Alex, of course.’

And Alex!

Hope nodded. She knew Anna. She knew Anna well enough to know she couldn’t ask her to retract the invitation to Alex without having the whole humiliating tale exposed. Hope wasn’t ready for that; she was still feeling far too raw about the whole painful incident. There was only one thing for it.

‘Sorry, Mum, I’ve got to go out,’ she said, levering her tall frame from the saggy armchair.

‘Where to?’

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