Hunter’s Moon
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

‘MUMMY…’

‘Yes, darling?’

‘Mummy, why is Uncle Jonas going to give Aunt Joy away? Don’t we want her any more?’

‘Out of the mouths of babes and innocents…’ Cassandra had found her younger sister Joy a trial to be borne for longer than she cared to think about, but actually giving her away hadn’t, she admitted ruefully, actually occurred to her!

But that wasn’t quite, she realised as she slowly put her pencil down on the desk, abandoning the design she had been working on—for the moment—what her young daughter meant now either!

Bethany had been to her grandmother’s for tea, and from this conversation Cassandra could see that the little girl had been indulging in one of her favourite pastimes—that of making herself as inconspicuous as possible while an adult conversation was taking place, and in so doing listening in on something that really was none of her business! It was the fault of the adults in question really, for forgetting Bethany was there, but nevertheless Cassandra usually gave her young daughter—a little over four years of age, and already precocious beyond belief, if equally adorable!—a sharp rebuke for the well-remembered, if less understood eavesdropping.

But this time, Cassandra had to admit, she was too interested in what Bethany had overheard to even think of the rebuke…

They were in the sitting-room that Cassandra also used as an office, part of the room given over to her drawing-board, the other kept as a cosy place for Bethany to join her and watch television or play with her toys if she wanted to. Tonight Bethany had the television on, sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of it, but her attention wasn’t on the hectic cartoon now showing, her elbows resting on her knees, her chin resting in her hands as she looked up at Cassandra, golden-brown eyes grave with puzzlement, long black hair kept tidily in plaits for school as they reached almost down to her tiny waist, still in this style, although Bethany had changed out of her school uniform when she returned from her grandmother’s a little over an hour ago.

There was no doubting the relationship between mother and daughter, their colouring identical, Cassandra’s midnight-black hair almost as long as her daughter’s. But Bethany still maintained that childish chubbiness to her face that gave her such an endearing prettiness, whereas Cassandra was tall and reed-thin, with shadowed hollows to her cheeks and angled jaw, her beauty more hauntingly ethereal than glowingly lovely.

She smiled down at her daughter now, although inside she had stiffened defensively the moment Jonas’s name was mentioned. ‘Of course we want her, darling,’ she dismissed lightly. ‘What makes you think that we don’t?’

Bethany screwed her face up expressively as she tried to remember exactly what she had overheard earlier this evening. ‘Grandma said——’ She broke off awkwardly, wincing guiltily at Cassandra for having given herself away in this way.

‘It’s all right, Bethany,’ she smiled indulgently, too intrigued to issue any form of reprimand, even though she knew Bethany was expecting it. ‘What did Grandma say…?’

‘Well…’ Bethany sat forward, her eyes glowing excitedly at this unexpected treat of actually being invited to relate gossip. ‘While I was having tea with Grandma today she and Aunt Joy were talking and Grandma said…’ She finally had to pause for breath. ‘She said that dinner tonight was the perfect time for Aunt Joy to ask Uncle Jonas to give her away!’ Bethany looked puzzled once again.

And Cassandra’s heart sank as her worst fears were confirmed; she realised her sister Joy was going to ask Jonas to take their father’s place at the Easter wedding she and her fiancé were planning. She was also filled with outrage, as her mother must know she would be—which was obviously why she hadn’t been invited to dinner this evening too!—at the very idea of Jonas stepping into her father’s shoes in any way.

‘Has Grandma decided she doesn’t want Aunt Joy any more?’ Bethany persisted. ‘Is that why Uncle Jonas is going to give her away?’

As far as Cassandra was concerned, she felt like giving the whole Kyle family away at this moment in time! This was obviously her mother’s idea, to try and bring Jonas in as a member of the family rather than the business associate he would obviously prefer to be. And which Cassandra herself would prefer him to be too! She didn’t doubt that her mother was also trying to heal the rift that had been between the two of them almost from the moment they met nine months ago after the death of Cassandra’s husband—and Jonas’s brother—Charles.

Cassandra could have told her mother to save herself the bother of even trying, if her mother had consulted her; the differences between Jonas and herself were irretrievable. But she understood exactly why her mother was trying to manoeuvre the situation; it would hardly be the done thing for the matron of honour and the man giving the bride away to launch into one of their verbal battles in the middle of the wedding planned for four months’ time!

‘Why are you smiling, Mummy?’ Bethany had deserted the television completely now, having crossed the room to stand in front of Cassandra, one star-fish-shaped hand resting on one of her mother’s denim-clad knees. ‘It isn’t funny… is it?’

Cassandra was smiling, with irony, an emotion Bethany was too young to appreciate just yet, because if she didn’t smile she would cry! Her mother had arranged this so well, Christmas being exactly two weeks away, the last possible time of year for Cassandra to even think of creating difficulties between herself and the rest of her family, not for her own sake but for Bethany’s. At almost any other time Cassandra wouldn’t have hesitated about ringing her mother to tell her exactly what she thought of the idea of Jonas giving Joy away at the Easter wedding, and withdrawing as matron of honour if he was asked. But two weeks before Christmas, when she so wanted everything to go as smoothly as possible for Bethany during this, her first Christmas since Charles had died, was not the time to create such awkwardness with the rest of the family.

It was very unfair of her mother, and Joy, who also knew exactly how she felt, to even be thinking of asking Jonas such a thing. Especially now. And while Cassandra appreciated that she couldn’t make a scene over this now she could at least try to get her mother to delay asking Jonas until after the holiday period. Although, knowing her mother, she would realise exactly why Cassandra wanted her to delay, and go ahead and ask him anyway!

Her only consolation—if it could be called that!—was that she knew Jonas would hate being asked almost as much as she resented it! But he couldn’t possibly hate it as much!

She deliberately turned her attention back to her beloved daughter now, for whom she would do anything—even grit her teeth and suffer through Jonas’s visits here, which she did regularly, as he and Bethany had formed a bond as strong as the rift between him and Cassandra!—smiling down at her warmly. ‘No, darling, it isn’t funny,’ she acknowledged ruefully, smoothing back the black fringe that framed the cherubic beauty of her daughter’s face.

God, how Cassandra wished she had someone she could turn to now, someone to tell her what was the right thing to do in the tangled mess everything had become. This last ten months of being on her own with Bethany hadn’t been the easiest of times for her, and some of the decisions she had made had turned out disastrously, both personally and professionally. Sometimes she just longed for someone to give her a hug, or her arm a squeeze, as they told her she was doing all right— even if she knew the latter wasn’t strictly true. And there was no one—her mother and Joy were her only family now, and after her mother’s initial invitation for both her and Bethany to move in with them, an invitation Cassandra had had to refuse, and which, she knew, her mother had taken as rejection, her sister and mother, apart from the occasional invitation for Bethany to join them for tea after school or an outing at the weekends, had become wrapped up in their own lives once again, rarely seeming to give a thought to Cassandra, Bethany’s mother, widowed at only twenty-four. Perhaps that was her own fault; maybe she could have handled her refusal of her mother’s offer in a different way, but neverthe less——

God, she was starting to sound self-pitying now, she realised with a defensive straightening of her spine, and that would never do—even if her world did seem to be crashing down about her ears. And she didn’t doubt that at the first sign of vulnerability on her part Jonas would attack, as he had in the past, with all the razor-sharp ferocity of which he was capable!

She could still recall—with complete clarity—the first time she had met Jonas; it had also been the first occasion he had made her aware of just how contemptuous he was of her. There had been many occasions since, but that one stood out in her mind for its sheer cruelty!

Jonas hadn’t returned to England for Charles’s funeral, having lived in America for the last twelve years, and claiming on his return that he hadn’t been informed in time to attend the service, and so had seen no reason to come to England after the event. Except that a month after Charles’s death the solicitors had called the family together to read the will, and Jonas’s presence had been requested for that. It was noticeable that he made the effort to come back to England on that occasion!

Cassandra had still been numb from the shock of Charles’s death and the consequences that had followed, had barely been aware of the fact when Charles’s solicitor told her they had written to Jonas asking for him to be present. That numbness had fled with a vengeance when Jonas was shown into her lounge that day, Mr Harcourt believing this would be the best place for the reading of the will.

She had been alone in the room, none of the rest of the family having arrived yet, standing up slowly to greet the half-brother Charles had never had the chance to introduce her to. His appearance alone had come as something of a shock to her; she had expected him to look like Charles, she supposed, had even been guarding herself for the meeting, and instead she had found herself looking at a harshly dark man who bore no resemblance to Charles whatsoever.

Charles had been tall, blond-haired and blue-eyed, charming to both young and old in his desire to be liked. Apart from his equally impressive height, Jonas was the exact opposite of his half-brother: skin tanned darkly teak, saturnine almost, his hair as black as a moonless night, eyes equally black, lines of cynical hardness etched beside his nose and unsmiling mouth, giving him the appearance of being older than the thirty-five Cassandra knew him to be.

That hard black gaze had raked over her disparagingly as he took in the black sheath of a dress she wore, the starkness of the colour giving her pale skin a slightly sallow appearance. ‘The grieving widow, I presume?’ he drawled tauntingly once the door had closed behind the housekeeper as she left after showing him in.

Cassandra gasped at the insulting tone. She didn’t even know this man, had no—— But perhaps she had misunderstood him; this was an awkward occasion, especially as the two of them had never met before.

She met his gaze steadily, looking gaunt with her hair secured back at her nape, even the light make-up she had applied that morning doing little to add colour to the hollowness of her cheeks. ‘Yes, I’m Cassandra,’ she confirmed huskily, holding out her hand in greeting. ‘I’m sorry we had to meet in these circumstances,’ she added politely, still waiting for him to take her hand.

‘I doubt we would have met at all if it hadn’t been “these circumstances”,’ he dismissed impatiently. ‘Do you have any idea why I’ve been asked to attend this reading?’ He looked at her with narrowed eyes, still ignoring her outstretched hand.

Cassandra let her arm fall back to her side, shaking her head slightly, looking at him frowningly. ‘I’m afraid I don’t,’ she dismissed with a shrug. ‘I presume it’s because you’ve been named in the will——’

‘Credit me with enough intelligence to know that, woman,’ he cut in impatiently. ‘I just wondered why the solicitors felt it necessary to bring me all the way over from the States for the damned thing, why they couldn’t have just informed me by mail!’

‘I believe it’s usual to have everyone named in the will present at these things, if possible.’ Cassandra was frowning with the effort of trying to deal with this man’s aggression; it was the last thing she felt capable of coping with on top of everything else!

‘I’m a busy man, Cassandra,’ he snapped harshly.

‘I’m sure that if you had explained——’

‘Oh, I did,’ he said in a tone that implied he had done much more than that! ‘But I was told it was imperative that I be here.’

For the first time since Charles had died Cassandra felt an emotion other than that crippling numbness; she felt the beginnings of unease. ‘They gave you no indication why…?’

‘None at all.’ His mouth twisted disgustedly. ‘Although I believe we are about to find out…’ he added softly as the door opened again to admit the solicitor, quickly followed by Cassandra’s family.

And find out they did! Cassandra’s numbness receded completely as the will was read, to be replaced by shock and disbelief. She couldn’t believe what Charles had done!

Her mother seemed as stunned, and had to be almost physically helped from the house by Joy as the two women left almost immediately after the reading of the will. Which left Cassandra, once the solicitor had left, alone again with Jonas Hunter. And she knew even less what to say to him now than she had before!

Although she needn’t have worried; he seemed more than capable of talking for the pair of them!

‘Well, that must have come as something of a shock to you,’ he drawled knowingly. ‘Me too,’ he murmured almost to himself, frowning, his attention suddenly returning to Cassandra with narrow-eyed assessment. ‘I’m sure you must have thought you would automatically inherit Charles’s share of Hunter and Kyle after his death?’

She had thought no such thing, as it happened, had believed Bethany would be his sole heir, those shares put in trust for her, under Cassandra’s guidance, until she was twenty-one. It was what she and Charles had always discussed. Why had he chosen to change his mind, especially without telling her? She hadn’t wanted any of Charles’s shares for herself; she already had the ten per cent left to her by her father only two months before Charles had died, a fact he had been very aware of.

But for Charles to have divided his thirty-five per cent of the company shares, ten per cent put in trust for Bethany, and the other twenty-five per cent to Jonas Hunter——! She still couldn’t take it in!

Charles hadn’t even spoken to Jonas for years, had made no further effort to contact his younger brother after the other man had refused their wedding invitation—well, he hadn’t exactly refused it; he had just ignored it completely! Charles had certainly given her no indication whatsoever that he intended, effectively, making Jonas the holder of the single most shares in Hunter and Kyle. Even though Cassandra had the voting right over Bethany’s ten per cent that still only gave her twenty per cent to Jonas’s twenty-five.

Her father and Charles had had an equal thirty-five per cent of the shares of the company they had formed together, putting the other thirty per cent on the open market, confident that either of them had the majority over the market, and together they had no fears of any take-over bids.

But the death of Cassandra’s father last New Year had divided his shares, giving Marguerite a fifteen per cent share, and Joy and Cassandra ten per cent each. Charles’s death had now divided those family shares up even more, and in a way that had been totally unexpected, Cassandra readily admitted. Although Charles had to have known what he was doing. At least, she hoped he had!

She shrugged dismissively, determined this man shouldn’t see just how shaken she was by Charles’s will. ‘They were Charles’s shares; he was free to do what he wanted with them.’

‘Because you already have what you wanted from your marriage to him?’ Jonas said accusingly.

Her eyes widened. ‘I married Charles because I loved him——’

‘Oh, come on, Cassandra.’ Jonas’s mouth twisted scornfully. ‘Charles was twenty-five years older than you——’

‘Twenty-three,’ she defended, bright spots of colour now highlighting her cheeks. ‘But that made no difference to how I felt about him——’

‘I’ll just bet it didn’t.’ He shook his head disgustedly. ‘He was Charles Hunter, your father’s business partner, could have been forty years older than you—and you would still have been willing to marry him!’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about!’ she gasped at his insulting tone.

‘Don’t I?’ he said softly, his eyes narrowed. ‘But I know more about my famous sister-in-law than you perhaps realise,’ he told her dismissively. ‘Cassandra Kyle, the designer of exclusive clothes for the woman with plenty of money! And you owe it all to Charles,’ he scorned.

Charles had been responsible for helping her open her first boutique in London, she admitted that, knew that without his help she would probably have remained an unknown for a lot more years than she had. And considering the way her business was now, the state of the economy meaning that those women with plenty of money were a lot less well off than they used to be, perhaps it might have been better if she had remained unknown! But that seemed to be something Jonas Hunter didn’t know! She wondered for how long…

‘Poor Charles,’ Jonas drawled. ‘I could almost feel sorry for the poor besotted fool he must have become! Admittedly you’re beautiful enough, but I credited my self-centred brother with more sense than to go for that older-man-falling-for-younger-woman trick.’ He shook his head scathingly. ‘Hunter became the hunted,’ he added softly, the slow deliberation with which he delivered the words giving them the full insult he intended them to have.

Cassandra paled. ‘Get out,’ she told him shakily. ‘Get out of my home!’ She was trembling so badly that she felt as if she might collapse. And she refused to do that in front of this hateful man!

‘Oh, I’m going, Cassandra,’ he assured her drily. ‘In fact, I’m going back to the States for a while to sort things out over there. But I’ll be back,’ he told her softly. ‘I’ll be back…’ It was a threat as well as a promise!

And two months later he had been, taking over as head of Hunter and Kyle. And Cassandra hated seeing him there, hated him for the way he never lost an opportunity during the following months to torment her anew with those accusations…

Bethany still looked slightly confused even once Cassandra had explained the formality of Joy’s future wedding to her, the necessity for Joy to be ‘given away’ by a member of her family if possible, a close friend if not; Cassandra wasn’t sure which category Jonas came under! And Bethany was easily distracted from the subject altogether once Cassandra had mentioned something she did understand: bathtime!

As far as Bethany was concerned, the huge oval jacuzzi in her parents’ bathroom had been put there solely for her to romp around in, the bubbles created from the surging foam and the scented liquid Cassandra had been persuaded to put in soon up to her small pointed chin as she played games with their rainbow brightness.

As her young daughter played with squealing delight, Cassandra stood in the adjoining bedroom looking through her wardrobe for something to wear when she visited her mother that evening, because even though she wasn’t going to join them for dinner—she already had a dinner engagement—she wasn’t prepared to let Marguerite get away with this as easily as all that, and intended calling at her mother’s house on her way out. And if Jonas should arrive while she was talking to her mother he would no doubt look at her with his usual criticism—hence her frowning attention on what to wear. If she chose something that would flatter her slender darkness then Jonas would treat her scornfully, and if she chose something demure he would deride the effort as being a false one. She had never been able to win with Jonas. He had formed an opinion of her before they even met, because she had been the wife of the brother he despised, and to give him his due it had never wavered; he despised her as much as he had Charles. Cassandra had formed a similar opinion of him after their first meeting, which had also never wavered—how could it when he had treated her with such contempt on that occasion, and every one since?

Jonas’s only redeeming quality, as far as she was concerned, was that his dislike of her didn’t extend as far as her daughter; he openly adored Bethany. And Bethany reciprocated by believing him to be the most wonderful man in the world. Cassandra could only hope that her daughter’s taste in men improved before she reached maturity!

‘Wear the yellow dress.’ Bethany grinned at her enchantingly from the bath. ‘The one Daddy liked,’ she added softly, sadness entering the golden-brown of her eyes at this mention of her father.

Cassandra’s own hand shook slightly as she reached out automatically for the dull gold gown that Charles had so liked to see her in, its clinging style to just above her knees, her shoulders left completely bare, classically and tunelessly appealing. Charles had always claimed it gave her eyes a golden glimmer that matched the colour of the dress, and for a brief moment after Bethany had called out to her it had almost seemed as if Charles himself spoke to her.

‘Yes—wear the pale gold,’ a voice echoed mockingly. ‘You look like a high priestess in it!’

Cassandra spun round with a gasp. This second voice was certainly nothing like Charles speaking to her; irresponsibly charming Charles had certainly never spoken to her in that disparaging way! Nor did the man who stood so arrogantly in the open bedroom doorway look anything like the husband Cassandra had loved in spite of his reckless disregard for what he termed ‘tomorrow’. It could take care of itself, he had always claimed with that boyish grin of his. Only he wasn’t here to see ‘tomorrow’ with her; this man was!

Jonas Hunter. Charles’s younger half-brother, the two of them the products of their father’s two marriages. And Charles and Jonas were as different as night and day, as shadow and sunlight. And there was no confusion in Cassandra’s mind, at least, which man was which!

CHAPTER TWO

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.

CHAPTER THREE

‘DID you hear me, Cassandra?’ Jonas rasped coldly. ‘I said——’

‘I heard you!’ She turned away, totally shaken by this. She had known it had to come, of course, had realised it had to, but with the mess her own company had become she hadn’t had the chance—or time! —to think about Hunter and Kyle. And she should have done, the dangerous intent in this man’s eyes warned her harshly, when she risked another glance at him. She gripped her hands tightly together in front of her to stop their trembling. ‘It was——’

‘Mummy, Uncle Jonas, don’t you want your coffee?’ Bethany protested as she came bounding into the room to frown up at them impatiently for their delay.

‘I would love some.’ Jonas was the one to answer her, glancing at the plain gold watch with its leather strap. ‘Unfortunately, I don’t have the time now,’ he refused with a disappointed grimace, his eyes narrowed as he glanced across at the still pale Cassandra. ‘Marguerite has invited me to dinner tonight too,’ he told her softly.

He thought she was going to be at her mother’s for dinner, Cassandra realised. Thank God she wasn’t; there was no way she could have given even a semblance of normality tonight at one of her mother’s dinner parties, not after what this man had just told her.

And Cassandra knew exactly why Jonas had been invited to dinner tonight. It wasn’t just that her mother wanted to ask Jonas to give Joy away at the wedding—although God knew that was bad enough. No, her mother was very much aware that Jonas was now head of Hunter and Kyle, and as such he was responsible for any profits the company might make, profits she and Joy had a share in. She wouldn’t put it past her mother and Joy to have plans for Joy’s fiancé Colin either—he was Jonas’s assistant, and neither Marguerite nor Joy would be happy with him remaining just that, Cassandra was sure.

The knowing look in Jonas’s eyes, when she looked up to make a reply, said he knew perfectly well of her mother and Joy’s ambitions for Colin—also that he would do what he damned well pleased about that situation!

‘That’s nice,’ Cassandra finally replied distractedly.

Jonas gave a taunting smile. ‘Is it?’

She was tempted to tell him she didn’t give a damn whether he went to her mother’s for dinner every night of the week—as long as she didn’t have to be there too! But Bethany clasped his hand at that moment, diverting his attention to her, and also putting an end to the conversation.

Bethany hung on to Jonas until the very last minute, making it impossible for Cassandra and Jonas to talk privately again. Cassandra was glad of the respite, and she knew Jonas wasn’t bothered by the delay, because he expected to be talking to her again later on this evening. Cassandra shivered, glad once again that she had made other plans.

Bethany turned away now from the door where she had been standing forlornly waving to her uncle until the tail-lights of his car had completely disappeared. ‘Can’t Uncle Jonas come and live with us?’ She looked up at Cassandra appealingly.

Cassandra had been deep in thought, but this brought her sharply back into the present. This was the second time tonight her young daughter had made such a statement, and the sooner she was firmly told it wasn’t even a possibility, the better! ‘I wanted to talk to you about that, darling,’ she told Bethany firmly as she sat her down in one of the armchairs.

It was still quite early when Cassandra arrived at her mother’s house—deliberately so on her part; she was determined she wouldn’t run into Jonas there now.

Her mother, she was informed, was still dressing for dinner, and so Cassandra sat down to wait for her. It was more imperative than ever that Jonas not be drawn any deeper into their personal lives than he already was; the man had the power—and the ruthlessness!—to destroy all of them, if he chose to do so.

Her mother was a good hostess; she had a fire burning brightly in the hearth to give the elegant lounge, with its pale cream and peach décor, a welcoming warmth, the family dining table, rather than the large formal one in a separate room, laid for dinner, the silver shining brightly, the crystal wine glasses sparkling in the firelight, the delicate posy of roses in the centre of the table perfectly matching the peach and cream in the rest of the room.

Cassandra stood up as her mother came into the room; she was much taller than her petite mother, and their colouring was completely different too, her mother’s auburn hair going graciously—and expertly!—grey now. Joy looked the most like their mother; both women were short and slim, with beautifully even features, eyes a deep blue. But her mother and Joy, her two closest relatives, had always seemed a little like an alien species to Cassandra.

They lived their lives on such a superficial level, going to the beauty salon twice a week, lunching with friends, being seen in all the ‘right’ places, knowing all the ‘right’ people, likewise wearing all the ‘right’ clothes, both of them always immaculately dressed for the occasion. And both of them would recoil in horror at the mere suggestion that they should ever actually work a single day of their lives to pay for all that luxury they took so much for granted! Cassandra had always stood out like a duckling among such beautifully elegant swans…

She had never been able to understand how her mother and Joy could live such vacuous lives. But if she felt that way about them she knew her mother didn’t understand her way of life any better. Her mother had given up on Cassandra when, at the age of seventeen, she had insisted on going to art college rather than the exclusive finishing-school her parents had picked out in Switzerland for their two daughters. Even worse, when Cassandra had left college two years later, she had gone to work for a major London fashion house, not as a model or designer herself, but as assistant to a designer. Humble beginnings—much to her mother’s obvious disgust; there had never been anything humble about either Marguerite or Joy Kyle!

Even the relative success she had had as a designer herself hadn’t exactly redeemed her in her mother’s eyes: she still worked for a living. But at least Cassandra’s choice of husband, after years of having her actions looked on with dismay, had met with her mother’s approval—although even that new-found respectability had taken a knock in her mother’s eyes, she knew, when Charles had died so suddenly: it simply wasn’t the done thing to become a widow at only twenty-four years of age!

Her mother looked as graciously lovely as usual this evening, her auburn hair elegantly grey at the temples, her black below-the-knee dress perfect for this small family dinner-party—although she looked slightly disconcerted to see that Cassandra was also dressed for dinner, wearing the pale gold gown Bethany had requested.

Cassandra smiled, taking pity on her mother. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not gatecrashing your dinner party; I’m going on somewhere.’

Her mother couldn’t quite hide her relief. ‘You’re welcome to join us if you would like to,’ she said politely now that she knew Cassandra had no intention of staying.

Cassandra’s smile widened. ‘No, thanks. I’m meeting Simeon later——’

‘Oh, really, Cassandra.’ Her mother looked irritated now. ‘That dreadful young man!’

That ‘dreadful young man’, her own assistant at the salon she ran in town still, had helped get her through the last difficult months. But he wasn’t ‘top-drawer’ enough for her mother, coming from a working-class background; it didn’t matter that he was also kind and caring, and that Cassandra liked him very much.

‘Never mind Simeon,’ she dismissed lightly. ‘He isn’t the reason I’m here.’ She glanced across at the intimately laid dinner table. ‘Five places, Mother?’

Her mother looked disconcerted again. ‘Godfrey is joining us for dinner,’ she dismissed.

‘Us’ was obviously Joy, Colin, and Marguerite. Godfrey Chorley was an old family friend who had become very helpful to her mother as a partner for social evenings since the death of her husband a year ago. At almost sixty, Godfrey seemed a confirmed bachelor, and after only a few minutes spent it his company it was easy to see why: Godfrey, as fond as Cassandra was of him, was easily the most boring man she had ever met!

Cassandra arched black brows. ‘And the fifth?’

‘Jonas,’ her mother supplied offhandedly. ‘I do feel so sorry for the dear man; he seems to know so few people in England, and——’

‘Spare me that, please, Mother,’ Cassandra cut in impatiently. ‘If Jonas spends a lot of his time alone, it’s because he chooses to,’ she said knowingly; Jonas, for all his coldness with her, was an extremely attractive man, could have his pick of women to share his life.

‘Well, anyway, he’s coming to dinner this evening too,’ her mother announced almost challengingly—a challenge Cassandra was only too happy to meet!

‘Why?’ she prompted softly.

‘I’ve just——’

‘Why, Mother?’ she repeated firmly, easily meeting her mother’s searching gaze.

‘Bethany!’ her mother finally realised. ‘She was here earlier when we were discussing…! Joy has a perfect right to ask whom she wants to give her away,’ she said in defence of her youngest daughter.

‘It wasn’t so long ago Joy was chasing after Jonas for quite another reason,’ Cassandra reminded her drily, perfectly aware that when Jonas had first returned to England her sister had been very attracted to him indeed. But while Jonas hadn’t seemed averse to having Joy reacquaint him with London he hadn’t been interested in anything more than that from her, Joy had told her disappointedly one day. Cassandra had been most embarrassed by the whole incident; she had been sure Jonas was secretly laughing at them all for her sister’s obvious ambitions where he was concerned. Joy’s engagement to Colin was a relatively new thing, and Cassandra just hoped it was for the right reasons; Colin was nowhere near as ‘primitively exciting’ as Joy had claimed she thought Jonas was! Still, that was Joy’s problem, not hers. Her problems were much more pressing than that.

‘And if she had succeeded it might just have been the answer for all of us,’ her mother snapped angrily.

Cassandra looked at her mother closely. ‘And just what do you mean by that remark?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ her mother said with impatient dismissal—although she wasn’t quite meeting Cassandra’s gaze, she noticed with a frown. Did her mother know more than she was prepared to say…?

‘It would have been the perfect arrangement if we could have kept the company in the family,’ her mother continued briskly. ‘As it is, Jonas could eventually marry anybody, and then where will we all be?’ She frowned.

Exactly where they were now, Cassandra would have thought. Unless her mother did know something…

‘Don’t start being difficult about this, Cassandra,’ her mother told her shortly. ‘The decision has been made, and nothing you say will make any difference.’

‘But do you have to ask him now?’ She frowned. ‘What’s the urgency?’

‘There is no urgency,’ her mother shrugged. ‘We just thought it would be a nice gesture, what with the time of year and everything.’

A time of year when Jonas was much less likely to refuse, Cassandra realised ruefully, her own hands tied for very much the same reason. ‘Mother——’

‘Do stop calling me Mother in that disapproving way of yours,’ she was told impatiently. ‘Either Mummy, or Marguerite, if you prefer, but Mother makes me sound like some matriarchal monster!’

Her mother was tense and agitated, she could see. Admittedly, she also having been widowed, the last year had been as difficult for her mother as it had for her, but at the same time her mother had seemed to be coping, her life continuing to run in its usually smooth way. What had happened to change that? Unless her mother did know something. Colin was Jonas’s assistant, so he would know all about the audit Jonas had ordered. Maybe that was why——

‘Mr Chorley, madam,’ the butler came into the room to announce after knocking quietly.

‘Thank you, Jenkins,’ she accepted vaguely. ‘Show him in, will you?’ She turned to Cassandra once they were alone again. ‘Just drop this for now, Cassandra,’ she hissed impatiently. ‘It’s absolutely none of Godfrey’s business.’

‘I would have thought Godfrey was the more obvious choice to give Joy away,’ she began reasoningly. ‘He——’

‘He’s a family friend, nothing more,’ her mother snapped. ‘Even if he would like to be more than that. Especially as he would like to be more than that.’ She was becoming agitated once again. ‘Cassandra, Jonas is very important to all our lives, so please just stop being difficult where he’s concerned!’ she pleaded anxiously.

Cassandra was prevented from saying anything more on the subject by Godfrey’s arrival, quickly followed by Joy and Colin joining them. As it could only be a matter of minutes before Jonas arrived too she quickly made her excuses!

But she was so preoccupied when she finally met Simeon at the restaurant that she couldn’t have been much company for him. Not that he complained; they didn’t have that sort of relationship—Simeon was more like a brother to her than anything else, despite what the rest of the family might think to the contrary.

Simeon had turned up at her London salon one day three years ago, short and dark-haired, at twenty-six nevertheless managing to look perpetually boyish, with no qualifications except a wonderful eye for colour and design, a fact he had proved only too well when on that very first occasion he had told her her displays were all wrong and offered to do them for her! The difference he had made in a very short time had convinced her she should employ him. It was a decision she had never regretted—although not even Simeon’s obvious talents could alter the fact that her business was in deep financial trouble. She wasn’t even sure she would be able to continue to employ him after the expense of putting out the spring collection!

But because Cassandra was so caught up in her own thoughts she cut the evening short, driving herself home again, wondering when she would be able to see Jonas again to finish their conversation. She certainly hadn’t been expecting him to be waiting for her when she got home!

But she would know that dark green Jaguar anywhere, and she glanced warily over at the house as she locked her own car before going inside. Obviously Jonas had decided they should finish this conversation tonight!

Jean looked at her with raised brows as she entered the house. ‘Mr Hunter is in the sitting-room,’ she said ruefully; obviously she hadn’t had any choice about letting him wait in there for Cassandra to come home!

‘Thanks, Jean.’ Cassandra squeezed her arm reassuringly, leaving her bag on the hall table to go through to the sitting-room, straightening her back defensively as she entered.

Jonas stood beside the unlit fireplace, watching her with narrowed eyes as she came in and quietly closed the door behind her. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ he rasped accusingly.

She gasped at his direct attack. ‘I don’t think that’s any of your——’

‘You knew damn well I had assumed you would be at your mother’s this evening,’ he bit out impatiently.

She shook her head. ‘I didn’t say I would be,’ she reasoned, the two of them facing each other like adversaries across the width of the fireplace.

The perfectly tailored black dinner-suit and snowy white shirt Jonas wore did little to hide the fact that these trappings of civilisation were merely that—a veneer of sophistication that did little to hide the contempt he felt for the polite conventions that meant he had to dress this way to go to dinner at her mother’s house.

‘No, you didn’t say that,’ he accepted harshly. ‘But you knew I thought it anyway.’

What he thought and what was actually fact were two entirely different things! ‘What do you want, Jonas?’ she sighed wearily.

‘I wanted to finish our earlier conversation,’ he ground out impatiently. ‘But now I want to know where you were and who you were with this evening.’

Cassandra frowned. ‘I don’t think that’s any of your business,’ she repeated, this time actually being allowed to finish the statement!

‘Young Grey, I suppose,’ he grated, his gaze narrowed on her speculatively. ‘Oh, yes, Cassandra, I’ve heard the rumours of your affair with him.’ His mouth twisted contemptuously.

‘My what?’ she gasped incredulously. ‘I’m not having an affair with Simeon!’ she protested irritably. ‘He and I are friends——’

‘You go out together,’ Jonas accused.

‘Well—yes,’ she acknowledged, colour entering her cheeks. ‘But as friends. Not that I can see what it has to do with you anyway——’

‘You’re my brother’s widow, the mother of my niece, of course it interests me what men you have in your life——’

‘I don’t have “men” in my life,’ Cassandra protested heatedly. ‘Only Simeon. And he——’

“‘Only Simeon”,’ Jonas echoed tauntingly. ‘What is it, Cassandra? Is he no danger because his tastes don’t run to women?’

‘Simeon has a normal interest in women as far as I know,’ she defended, indignant on his behalf; just because Simeon was involved in the fashion business didn’t mean he was automatically homosexual.

‘As far as you know,’ Jonas repeated softly, moving in that stealthy way of his now, suddenly standing very close to her. ‘Hasn’t he tried to make love to you yet?’ he challenged.

She swallowed hard, her cheeks feeling very warm now. ‘Of course he hasn’t!’ she snapped, wishing he wouldn’t stand so close to her; she was starting to feel very hot indeed, all over!

Jonas’s hand came up to cup one side of her heated face, his eyes narrowed on her widely distressed ones. ‘Why don’t I believe you?’ he murmured softly. ‘Possibly because of the passion I see here.’ His thumb-pad moved caressingly close to her wide golden eyes. ‘And the promise I can feel here.’ That thumb moved over her bottom lip now. ‘And the desire that pulses here.’ His hand moved down to the hollows of her throat, gently caressing still. ‘I was right about this dress, Cassandra,’ he told her softly, looking down at her body sheathed in the gold-coloured gown. ‘You do look like a high priestess in it.’

He was standing so close to her now that Cassandra could feel the heat of his body, and the touch of that marauding hand was doing strange things to her limbs; she was having difficulty standing up! She swayed slightly towards him, and as she did so she saw the light of triumph in his eyes, starting to pull back as she did so.

But it was too late; Jonas had already thrust her away from him, looking at her coldly now. ‘No,’ he rasped harshly, ‘I don’t believe you at all, Cassandra.’ He looked at her contemptuously. ‘You and Charles must have made a great pair, he so self-centred and you so glad to give him what he wanted as long as you got what you wanted in return!’

‘Get out,’ Cassandra choked. ‘Get out of my house.’ It was still hers—just!

Jonas’s mouth twisted. ‘Quite like old times!’ He taunted, reminding her of the fact that she had thrown him out the first time he had come here too. ‘Oh, I’m going, Cassandra, don’t worry. I had wanted to talk to you again before I left for the States in the morning but——’

‘You’re going to America tomorrow?’ Cassandra gasped incredulously; he had given no indication of that earlier today.

His eyes narrowed. ‘Is there some problem with that?’

‘Well, no… But——’

‘Good,’ he accepted with brisk dismissal. ‘We can talk again when I get back.’

Cassandra hurried after him as he strode over to the door. ‘But——’

‘Yes, Cassandra?’ He turned so sharply that she almost walked into him. She looked up into the hard coldness of his face, shivering slightly at the cruelty she could see there; he knew exactly what he was doing, was well aware of how worried she was about the conversation they had had earlier. Damn him!

‘Nothing,’ she told him through gritted teeth. ‘It can wait until you get back.’

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.