Hunter's Moon

CASSANDRA looked warily across the room at Jonas, and knew that, despite his height and size, he could move with an animal stealth that was completely unnerving. Which was why she hadn’t heard his approach to her bedroom just now, she realised with deep resentment. This man aroused many emotions in her, and although most people seemed in awe of him no one she knew who had met him seemed to quite know how they felt about him—liking seeming too insipid an emotion to use in connection with this man. People would either love or loathe him, Cassandra would hazard a guess, having no doubt which emotion she herself felt towards him! Or perhaps it was because most other people were so much in awe of his arrogant power that they chose not to voice an opinion about how they felt about him!

‘Mrs Humphries let me in,’ he drawled now before Cassandra could voice her displeasure at this blatant intrusion into her home. ‘She told me Bethany was having her bath, and when she was called away to answer the telephone I took it upon myself to come upstairs.’ Dark brows were raised in silent challenge as he dared her to question his arrogance.

This man ‘took it upon himself’ to do exactly what he wanted whenever he wanted, Cassandra knew—but he wasn’t about to start walking about her house, the home she had shared with Charles for the five years of their marriage, as if he owned it! Which he most certainly did not. Jonas might have inherited a lot of things from Charles when he died, but this house was not one of them.

Her eyes flashed deeply gold. ‘You——’

‘Uncle Jonas! Uncle Jonas!’ An ecstatic Bethany came bounding out of the bathroom to launch herself at Jonas, effectively cutting off any angry rebuke Cassandra might have been—damn it, had been—about to administer. ‘It is you.’ Bethany grinned at him gleefully.

Jonas had swung the little girl up in his arms by this time, uncaring of the water and bubbles that instantly soaked into his expensively tailored suit, obviously having come here straight from the office, by the formality of his clothing. ‘Hussy!’ Jonas laughed huskily as he buried his face in the damp darkness of Bethany’s hair.

Cassandra watched the closeness between the two of them with mixed emotions—amazement at the way Jonas lost all trace of that hard cynicism and reserve when it came to Bethany, resentment at that very closeness which had seemed instantaneous from the very moment the two set eyes on each other, while at the same time grateful that Bethany did have this male influence in her young life. Because Bethany’s other contacts in life were mainly women: Cassandra, her aunt and grandmother, the housekeeper, Jean Humphries; even Bethany’s form-teacher at the day-school she had begun attending in September was a kindly middle-aged lady. But none the less Cassandra could still only deplore her daughter’s choice of a man to adore!

But adore Jonas she did, and Cassandra moved into the adjoining bathroom to escape the painful sight of Bethany in her uncle’s arms, gathering up one of the thick peach-coloured towels to take it back into the bedroom. ‘Here.’ She held the towel out somewhat impatiently, avoiding Jonas’s darkly taunting gaze as he mockingly noted the way Cassandra carefully avoided any contact with him while she wrapped Bethany in the sumptuous bath-towel. ‘Your suit will be ruined,’ she muttered defensively—she always seemed to be on the defensive where this man was concerned, had been made to feel that way from the very first time they met, and Jonas had never done anything to make her less wary and angry with him than she had been on that occasion.

‘I can always buy a new suit,’ Jonas drawled derisively. ‘A cuddle with this particular young lady——’ he tickled Bethany pointedly ‘—is priceless!’

Amazing how, even when she tried to make an effort with this man, he somehow managed to twist it round so that she appeared the one in the wrong again! Although if she was honest—with herself, at least—she hadn’t really been thinking of him and his damned expensively hand-made suit at all when she got the towel, had actually resented his presence here, but most of all she had hated his easy laughter with Bethany. It was wrong of her, she knew, but when she looked at him with Bethany she felt he had no right to be there at all. But Bethany did love him so, to the point where Cassandra feared he was superseding Charles in her daughter’s affections. Deliberately so on Jonas’s part…?

Jonas had always been the black sheep of Charles’s family from the little she had gathered from either Charles or his father, Jonas’s mother having been divorced by Peter Hunter years before Jonas reached adulthood. Jonas, it appeared, had lived in America for years without making any effort to see either Charles or their father. Cassandra had realised exactly what sort of man he was when he didn’t even come to their wedding, even though Charles had expressed a wish that he be his best man. Maybe his refusal to be with his own brother on his wedding day was another one of the reasons she now felt so resentful about the part he was going to be asked to play in her sister Joy’s wedding…

‘Don’t you think so?’

She looked up sharply, to find Jonas looking down at her probingly; despite her own considerable height, he was still at least six inches taller than her.

‘Bethany’s hugs are priceless,’ he reminded her of what he had said only minutes ago, holding Bethany easily in one arm as he did so.

‘Absolutely,’ Cassandra agreed in a briskly dismissive voice, lifting her daughter down on to the carpeted floor. ‘Time we got you into some clothes, young lady, before you get cold,’ she explained with a smile as Bethany looked disappointed. ‘I—— Ah, Jean,’ she said with some relief as she spied her housekeeper standing in the doorway Jonas had so recently vacated.

The older woman, in her early sixties now, Cassandra suddenly realised with a frown, looked slightly harassed as she glanced at Jonas before speaking. ‘I was just on my way upstairs to tell you Mr Hunter was here, when the telephone began to ring.’ She gave Cassandra an apologetic grimace, obviously feeling responsible for Jonas’s arrogant intrusion upstairs; if they had been alone, Cassandra would have assured the woman who had become her friend during the last five years that she was well aware Jean would have been trying to stop the equivalent of a tank in trying to prevent Jonas from doing exactly as he pleased! Although she knew that, given the opportunity, Jean would have had a good try, none the less!

The two women had had severe differences when Cassandra had first become Charles’s wife. Jean had been in charge of Charles’s household for years when he and Cassandra married; until that time, it seemed, Charles had given every impression of remaining a carefree bachelor, and at already forty-two that perhaps wasn’t such a strange assumption to have made. But it had meant, when he had married Cassandra, that the older woman deeply resented the introduction of a twenty-year-old bride as new mistress of the house. Naturally so, of course.

Cassandra hadn’t blamed the other woman for feeling that way at all, had tried very hard, during those first few months, not to step on the other woman’s already bruised feelings, determined that Charles shouldn’t be made to feel he was living in the middle of a battlefield—worse than that, that he might actually have to take sides! That was the last thing Cassandra wanted for him, because she knew that he would hate that, that he hated any sort of upset in his usually smooth-running existence. In fact, Cassandra had teased him that it had been for that very reason he had balked against marrying her at all for months after they had realised they were in love. He had protested that it wasn’t that at all, that he felt perhaps the age-difference was too much, that it would eventually break them up. Cassandra’s answer to that had been but think of what a marvellous time they would have had together, for however long it lasted. Charles’s love for her hadn’t been strong enough to fight such an argument, thank God, and Cassandra knew, despite that slightly reckless air of his that could make him so frustratingly irresponsible, that they had shared five good years together.

But those first few months of being Charles’s wife, because it seemed Jean Humphries would never accept her, had been traumatic ones for Cassandra. And then Cassandra had done something that had forever changed her relationship with Jean—she had produced Bethany… Jean doted on the little girl from the day Cassandra came home from the hospital with her, Bethany being the closest thing the older woman would ever have to a grandchild of her own. For the title of Mrs was only a professional one for Jean, Cassandra knew, the other woman never having been married.

During the months since Charles’s death, and the problems that had followed, Jean had come to be so much more than just a friend to Cassandra too; she had been the comforting mother she had needed so badly and which her own mother hadn’t been able to be.

Cassandra gave Jean a wan smile now, knowing just how impossible it would have been to stop Jonas from coming up here. ‘Jonas decided he would like to come up and see Bethany take her bath,’ she accepted dismissively. ‘If you would like to warm Bethany’s milk for her, and perhaps a pot of coffee for us…?’ She looked enquiringly at Jonas as she made the last request; the last thing she actually wanted was to share a cosy pot of coffee with him, but she couldn’t escape the fact that Bethany would probably be so disappointed that it would be hell on earth trying to get her to bed after Jonas had left!

Her hope that Jonas might refuse the invitation was dashed when he gave a mocking inclination of his head.

‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ he murmured derisively once Jean had gone to get the drinks and Bethany had returned to the bathroom to dry herself and dress in her pyjamas and dressing-gown ready for bed, his mouth twisting wryly. ‘But I came here straight from the office, and after the day I’ve had I could do with the caffeine,’ he added grimly, running a hand over the tension of his brow.

Cassandra gave him a searching look. He did look strained, his black-rimmed glasses, glasses he rarely wore, she recalled, partly concealing those hard black eyes. ‘Things not running smoothly at the office?’ she returned lightly, although inwardly she had tensed once again; what had happened to cause those extra lines of strain beside his nose and mouth tonight?

His expression sharpened with harsh derision. ‘Do you really care?’

Her eyes flashed deeply gold at his scorn. ‘Of course I—— Must I remind you that Hunter and Kyle is as much my concern as it is yours?’ she challenged in a reasoning tone.

Jonas returned her gaze speculatively. ‘Is it?’

‘You know it——’ She abruptly broke off her sharp retort as Bethany came trotting in unconcernedly from the bathroom, dressed in her nightclothes now, and stood expectantly in front of Cassandra as she waited for the nightly ritual of having her hair brushed.

‘Uncle Jonas…’ she began tentatively as Cassandra made the steady strokes through her hair with the brush. ‘Uncle Jonas, do you believe in Father Christmas?’ She frowned across the room at him as he sat in the bedroom chair now watching them.

Cassandra stopped the brushing to look down at her daughter in some surprise; this was the first indication she had ever had that Bethany was even beginning to doubt the myth! Of course, once a child started school, it was difficult to stop older children from telling her the truth, but even so they had gone through all the usual rituals together this year—the letter to Santa with a list of what Bethany would like for Christmas this year dutifully sent off to the North Pole, the trip to see a Father Christmas, in a well-known shop, that Bethany had known wasn’t the real one, but who she believed could pass a message on to him, just in case her letter should go astray. Bethany had helped Jean in the kitchen while she made mince pies, one of which was to be placed on a plate on Christmas Eve, along with eight carrots—one for each of the reindeer—and she had also checked the sherry supply, so that they could leave a glassful out with the mince pie, to warm the poor man on his busy round. In actual fact, either Cassandra or Jean would end up drinking the latter, depending on which of them felt more in need of it after the last-minute rush of getting everything arranged under the tree for the next morning when Bethany woke them at some ungodly hour so that they could go downstairs and see if Father Christmas had been yet!

All of which made Bethany’s apparent doubt now more than a little puzzling…

Jonas looked taken aback by the question too. ‘Why do you ask, poppet?’ he avoided warily.

Bethany still looked thoughtful. ‘Well, Father Christmas only brings you presents if you believe in him—and I would so like you to get lots and lots of presents, Uncle Jonas!’ She grinned at him endearingly, at the same time dispelling any doubts Cassandra might have had about her own belief in Father Christmas! ‘Mummy always does,’ she confided excitedly.

Because Charles, despite her protests, had always swamped her with gifts, and not just at Christmas. Even though she had protested at the expense, assuring him she didn’t need any of the things, he had begun showering her with jewellery, clothes, cars, anything he thought would give her pleasure, to the extent where Cassandra had begun to think he got more pleasure from giving her the things than she did receiving them…

But there would be no gifts from Charles for her to protest at this year. In fact, for Cassandra, the whole festive season was filled with unhappiness. A year ago on New Year’s Eve, drunken revellers had crashed into her father’s car and killed him instantly, and within weeks, it seemed—eight exactly, Cassandra knew—Charles had been dead too, from a massive heart attack that had given them no warning of its imminence.

No, there would be no outrageously extravagant gifts under the tree for her from Charles this year. Not that she would miss them; she would gladly have given away everything Charles had ever given her if she could have sorted out the financial mess her life had become during the last year. But none of those things would have been enough to solve that!

Jonas saw the shadows in her eyes, guessing, she was sure, only half the reason for her unhappiness. Jonas believed she had only married his brother for his money anyway, so there was no point in even trying to explain the truth of things to him!

‘I bet if you stayed here with us Christmas night Father Christmas would leave you lots of presents too!’ Bethany burst out expectantly. ‘Ouch, that hurt, Mummy!’ she protested indignantly as Cassandra dug the brush into her scalp.

‘Sorry, darling,’ Cassandra told her distractedly as she carefully untangled the brush from the glossy black locks, all the time fighting back her inward panic that Bethany should have said such a thing. She was sure Jonas had no more wish to stay here with them at Christmas than she did to have him here—she also knew he was bloody-minded enough to accept the suggestion just because he knew how much it would upset her if he did!

‘Do you really think so, Bethany?’ he thoughtfully answered the child, but his gaze was fixed on Cassandra’s flushed face, tauntingly so.

‘Oh, yes,’ Bethany nodded with certainty, her expression so gravely intent that it was endearingly appealing—even to Cassandra, who felt like strangling her at this moment! ‘So will you, Uncle Jonas? Stay here, I mean. We have lots of rooms, and—and I would like you to!’ she added earnestly.

Cassandra looked at Jonas in dismay, wondering how he was going to withstand such an appeal; she knew she was already resigned now to having Jonas here if that was what Bethany really wanted and Jonas was agreeable. Even though she personally would hate every minute of it she would willingly do it if it would make Bethany happy——

A fact Jonas was very much aware of as he watched the emotions flickering across her face with knowing mockery—although his expression softened, became almost gentle, as he went down on one knee beside the standing Bethany, putting their faces on the same level, one of his arms going about her tiny waist as he cradled her to his side. ‘That really is very kind of you to think of me in that way, Bethany,’ he told her gruffly. ‘Of both of you,’ he couldn’t resist adding with a challenging glint in his eyes for Cassandra. ‘But I’m afraid,’ he drawled with slow torture—for Cassandra, ‘that I’ve already left my note out for Father Christmas, and so he will be expecting me to be at my apartment on Christmas night.’

‘Oh, but that’s easy,’ Bethany told him in a pipingly confident voice. ‘You just put out another note for him telling him where you will be. We did it last year when we went to Grandma’s house.’

It was Cassandra’s turn to raise black brows derisively this time, in answer to Jonas’s accusing look for her previous year’s efficiency. Well, what had she been supposed to do in that situation? Children worried, needed an explanation for such things, and that second note to Father Christmas last year had seemed the only answer when they were invited to spend Christmas with her parents. In the light of what had happened in the New Year, she was so grateful that she, Charles and Bethany had spent that last Christmas with both her parents…

‘How clever of you.’ Jonas’s teasing attention returned to Bethany. ‘And it really is a very good idea. But actually I have to go and see your grandfather Peter on Christmas Eve.’ He shook his head disappointedly. ‘He’s on his own too, you see, and he shouldn’t really be on his own at Christmas, should he?’ Jonas reasoned gently.

And Cassandra couldn’t help wondering just how much time Jonas actually intended spending with his father on Christmas Eve; not very much, if any, she was sure. The two had met rarely since Jonas’s return, and she didn’t think the season of Christmas would make too much difference to their strained relationship. She was taking Bethany down to see her grandfather on Boxing Day, once some of the excitement for Bethany had died down; Peter was frail and old now, and young company tended to tire him more than any other.

‘No,’ Bethany accepted, although she had to blink back tears of disappointment at Jonas’s not being with them after all. ‘But I wish you could live here with us, Uncle Jonas.’ Her bottom lip still trembling emotionally.

Cassandra almost choked! ‘Bethany——’

Jonas shook his head, smiling ruefully. ‘I’ll see you later on Christmas Day, at your grandmother’s house, and you can tell me all about your Christmas presents,’ he cajoled brightly. ‘I’ve been invited for lunch.’

Yet more news for Cassandra! What on earth did her mother think she was doing? Jonas wasn’t family, was no relation to her mother whatsoever, and his connection to Cassandra was tenuous to say the least—a half-brother-in-law who had refused to even come to her wedding and had been nothing but objectionable since he had exploded into their lives a little over nine months ago! The unavoidable connection they all had with him through business certainly didn’t mean that any of them had to be this friendly with him on a social level. Christmas Day at her mother’s without her father’s calming presence was going to be bad enough, but to now find Jonas was going to be there too…!

Only Bethany looked thrilled by the news, throwing her arms about Jonas’s neck to hug him. ‘All of us together for Christmas!’ she glowed, clapping her hands with excitement now. ‘That’s the next best thing to having you live with us. I’m going to tell Mrs Humphries what a lovely Christmas we’re all going to have!’ She ran out of the room, hair flying, tendrils still slightly damp at the bottom where they had had a wetting in the bath.

A heavy, oppressive silence followed Bethany’s departure, and with a weary sigh Cassandra turned to look at Jonas—— And then wished she hadn’t! He stood in the doorway again now, leaning back against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest, mouth twisted tauntingly, eyes darkly mocking behind those somewhat protective glasses—not that this man needed protecting, from anything! Arrogant. Despicable. Ruthless. The adjectives she could find to describe this man were endless.

‘I can see you’re absolutely thrilled at the prospect of all of us being together on Christmas Day too!’ he scorned in that harshly derisive voice of his that so grated on her.

‘Thrilled’ in no way described how she felt about spending Christmas Day in this man’s company; she was absolutely horrified at the thought of spending that day of ‘peace on earth and goodwill to all men’ with this particular man!

‘Bethany will like it,’ she said dismissively—it was the only positive thing she could find to say about it!—as she placed the brush carefully back on the dressing-table with the rest of the gold-trimmed set, needlessly straightening the already neatly placed comb and hand-mirror. But she desperately needed something to occupy her hands—she was more than a little unnerved now at Jonas’s presence here alone with her, in the bedroom she had shared with Charles for all of their marriage. ‘Just as I know she appreciates your coming here to see her, as you have tonight,’ Cassandra continued determinedly, unable, with this man here, to even glance at the huge four-poster bed—a wedding present from Charles to her—that was usually so dominating in the room; this evening this man dominated it!

‘But I didn’t come here to see Bethany tonight,’ Jonas told her softly. ‘Much as I enjoy her company too,’ he shrugged dismissively.

Cassandra gave him a sharp, frowning look. ‘No?’ she said warily.

‘No,’ he echoed tauntingly, straightening suddenly, even the mocking humour erased from his face now. ‘As you’re the other major shareholder in Hunter and Kyle, I thought you should know that I have just had an internal audit done of the company.’

Cassandra stared at him. ‘You didn’t mention this before…’

‘No,’ he acknowledged grimly. ‘I didn’t believe there was any need to; I ordered it as a matter of course now that I’ve been in charge of things for six months. I just wanted to be ready for the end of the tax year, although there didn’t appear to be any problems. I say “appear to be”——’ he met her gaze with steady intent ‘—because now I know differently.’

Cassandra swallowed hard, even as she felt all the colour drain from her face.

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