“It’s absolutely crazy, of course,” she agreed breathlessly. Letter to Reader Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN Copyright

“It’s absolutely crazy, of

course,” she

agreed breathlessly.

“Absolutely crazy,” Ace agreed softly, his gray eyes darkening momentarily as she nervously moistened her dry lips with her tongue.

“However, before I completely lose all control of my senses, I think you’d better tell me to go away,” he added thickly, his heart pounding like a sledgehammer as she responded to his light caress with a low moan. “Quite frankly—we’re both likely to be in a whole lot of trouble, if I remain here any longer.”

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the final book in our miniseries:

Everyone has special occasions in their life—times of celebration and excitement. Maybe it’s a romantic event, an engagement or a wedding—or perhaps a wonderful family occasion, such as the birth of a baby. Or even a personal milestone—a thirtieth or fortieth birthday!

These are important times in our lives and in THE BIG EVENT! you can see how different couples react to these events. Whatever the occasion, romance and drama are guaranteed.

This month’s book is the sassy and sensational Baby Included! by Mary Lyons. We hope you have enjoyed this series.

Happy reading!

The Editors

Baby Included!

Mary Lyons

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

‘THE darkest hour is that before the dawn...’

As he recalled the old proverb, a grim smile flickered across the hard, tanned features of the man leaning casually against a pillar on the wide, shady veranda of his luxurious casita.

Well... at least it’s a comforting thought, Ace told himself wryly. After the string of disasters which had recently been inflicted on his family he could certainly do with a bright ‘new dawn’.

Fast approaching the watershed of his fortieth birthday, it seemed to Ace as if every single part of his life was now in the process of a dramatic change. Even as he stood here—sipping a long cold drink and gazing out at the dazzling snow-white beach of this exclusively private Philippine island resort—he knew there could be no escape from the many problems which awaited his return to Britain.

The younger son of a younger son, Ace had never—not even in his wildest dreams—imagined that he would one day find himself inheriting both his uncle Hector’s title of Lord Ratcliffe and the large estate in the south of England. Which was why, as a very junior member of his family, he’d been able to choose his own path in life, first studying law at university, before going on to forge a successful career in the City of London.

Unfortunately, the past few years had proved to be disastrous, with one dreadful tragedy being quickly followed by another.

His own father’s death, following a long, brave and valiant fight against cancer, had not being entirely unexpected. However, the horrific car accident, mainly due to thick fog on the motorway, which had claimed the lives of his uncle Hector’s son, wife and young family, had led to a profound and devastating series of events as far as Ace was concerned.

His uncle, Lord Ratcliffe, had never really recovered from the shock of losing his only son and heir. His death soon afterwards, following a massive stroke, had meant that Ace’s much loved older brother, Mark, had inherited the title. But tragically he, too, had been killed in a completely unforeseen accident while skiing in Switzerland, just under a month ago. And now Ace found himself the sole survivor of a family which had been virtually wiped out within the short space of two years.

Well...that wasn’t strictly true, he reminded himself quickly. There was his own daughter, Emily.

He dearly loved the fourteen-year-old girl—at present living with his ex-wife, and going through a rather ‘difficult’ stage of adolescence. Ace, with grim memories of his own misspent youth, was determined to be a helpful, understanding and supportive father. Maybe the recent family tragedies would help to bring them both closer together?

However, while anxious to improve his future relationship with Emily, he was now going to have to take some immediate and far-reaching decisions about his inheritance. Having lived and worked in London for most of his life, his current existence was a million light years away from ten thousand acres and the huge Palladian mansion currently referred to in the tourist guides as ‘a classic example of a stately home’.

The people who write those books should try spending a night in the vast, crumbling old pile, Ace thought grimly. Because it had certainly never occurred to his uncle Hector—a tight-fisted, miserly old skinflint if ever there was one!—that he had both a duty and a responsibility to care for the large house on behalf of future generations of his family.

So, the net result was that Ratcliffe Hall was now a huge white elephant. Not only did it have a badly leaking roof—which let in more of the elements than it kept out—but also a mass of crumbling stonework and rotten timbers. Ace knew that it would need a fortune just to install some decent, modern plumbing—let alone try to do something about repairs to the basic structure.

Moreover, it wasn’t just a case of bracing one’s shoulders and facing up to personal tragedy. With each successive death he’d also found himself having to deal with the additional heavy burden of massive taxation.

As the senior partner of a large firm of lawyers, specialising in corporate tax and finance, he might well have the professional expertise to cope with the problem. But, following the tragic loss of his brother, Mark—only a few months after his inheriting the land and title from their uncle Hector—Ace had known that he would have little time to mourn. Not only had his brother left his affairs in a mess, but all too soon Ace knew that he was going to be faced with demands by the Inland Revenue, requiring payment of yet another large amount of death duties.

Although he, like everyone else in the land, hated having to pay taxes, Ace was certainly wealthy enough in his own right not to have a problem in finding the money. But exactly how he was going to deal with a large agricultural estate when he knew absolutely nothing about farming, he had no idea. In fact...

A slight movement at the corner of his eye distracted his gloomy thoughts for a moment. Turning his dark head, he watched a distant figure walking slowly across the white sand, before disappearing behind some palms at the far end of the beach.

‘There she goes again—regular as clockwork,’ he murmured to himself. Hardly needing to glance down at his watch, he knew that the stranger would be returning to her beach-side cottage, some hundred yards away from his own, in approximately one hour.

Did she spend her time sunbathing? Or merely sitting on the glistening white sand and gazing out at the ocean? Of course, there was always the possibility that she might be interested in exploring the coral reef. In which case...

‘Oh, come on! Grow up!’ he snapped irritably, his lips tight with exasperation at the thought of himself behaving in such a juvenile manner.

Following his attendance at an international tax conference in Manila, and desperately needing some peace and quiet in which to sort out his personal problems, Ace had decided to take a week’s vacation. This remote island resort—only capable of being reached by private plane, and where guests were guaranteed total privacy—had sounded ideal. Which was why he was now so thoroughly annoyed with himself. It was clearly ridiculous—and a total waste of his valuable time—to be indulging in foolish, idle speculation about a fellow guest.

However, the facts were that he’d been at first intrigued and then increasingly curious as to why, in this scorching heat, anyone should feel it necessary to clothe themselves from head to toe in long flowing robes which completely concealed their figure. Nor could he understand why she wore such a very large, floppy hat, which effectively kept her face always hidden from view. Not exactly, in this day and age, the normal beach attire of a young woman.

Because, yes—mostly because of the wide-brimmed hat—he was now quite certain that the distant figure was that of a woman. And from her sometimes quick, lively stride along the edge of the ocean he’d guessed that she must also be fairly young and agile. But why shroud herself in such a heavy disguise?

Amongst the many scenarios which had occurred to him, Ace had finally settled for the supposition that she might be someone famous, or in the public eye. But, if so, she certainly didn’t seem to be typical of any prominent personalities he’d come across. Having been briefly married to a well-known model, it was his experience that such celebrities only thrived when fully exposed—and thus able to gain as much adulation and publicity as possible.

So, what mystery lay behind this woman’s definitely unusual and baffling behaviour... ?

‘Forget it! It’s none of your damn business,’ he told himself roughly, putting down his empty glass and striding over to the desk, set in a shady corner of the wide veranda. Firmly banishing all thought of the strange woman, he sat down and began sorting through the large pile of papers in front of him, resolutely determined to concentrate on trying to sort out his late brother’s tangled affairs.

Swimming slowly, just beneath the almost still surface of the ocean, Lois gazed down in wonder at the hidden world of the coral reef. Despite coming here as often as possible during her brief stay on this lovely island, she never ceased to marvel at the brilliant, iridescent colours of the tiny fish, darting and weaving their way through the long, pale knobbly fingers of the coral.

Although she’d spent the last few months travelling all over the globe, this enchanting subterranean world of pink and green sea anemones, and strangely coloured sea urchins, whose jelly-like fronds waved to and fro in the gentle ocean current, was certainly one of the highlights of her trip.

Having worked flat out for the last five years, Lois reckoned she’d been fully entitled to take a three-month vacation. It would, she reasoned, not only give her the opportunity of seeing some far-flung corners of the world, but would also be a good time to reassess her career. To think hard and long about what she wanted to do in the future.

From the moment when she’d gained a small role in Ring of Destiny right through to her last, Oscar-winning film, Fear No Evil, she’d hardly had time to draw breath—let alone take any time off to really consider where her career was heading.

Not that she was likely to face too many problems straight away. Winning an Oscar for Best Actress in her last film would certainly guarantee that she’d be offered just about any film she liked to star in when she returned to Hollywood. Playing ‘feisty’, modern heroines was all very well. But maybe it was about time that she extended her range by acting one of the more classical roles?

Oh, come on—who are you kidding? she asked herself roughly as she trod water for a moment, adjusting her snorkel. While the future direction of her career was very important, it was no good trying to pretend that it was the sole reason for taking such a long break from her work. Because, of course, the main impetus behind wanting to ‘get away from it all’ had been the urgent need to help cure her broken heart.

Unlike most of her fellow actresses, who seemed to have no problem flitting from one lover to another, Lois had finally forced herself to face the facts. She was, it seemed, one of those boring creatures: a nice, old-fashioned girl. Not that she was actively looking for a husband, she assured herself hurriedly. But one-night stands were definitely not her ‘thing’. Which meant she’d found no problem turning down some of the well-known male Hollywood stars for whom ‘commitment’ was clearly a dirty word.

And that only goes to prove that pride comes before a fall! she told herself with disgust. Because what had she done? She’d just gone and fallen head over heels in love with a married man—that was what she’d done!

As the star of her last film, she might have been expected to fulfil that old Hollywood cliché and fall in love with her leading man. But, not her—oh, no! She had to be different, right? She had fallen hook, line and sinker for Ross Whitney—author of the best-selling novel Fear No Evil on which the film was based, who’d also written the screenplay.

It wasn’t until they were halfway through shooting the film that she met Ross. He, as it turned out, actively hated the whole Hollywood scene, only agreeing to join the film crew on location to make necessary alterations to the script. So it was there, miles away from civilisation—and only too easy to forget the real world—that Lois had suddenly found herself fathoms deep in love with the tall, dark and diabolically handsome Englishman.

To be fair, Ross had behaved like a perfect gentleman. And that had been the trouble, of course. Maybe, given an ounce of encouragement, she might have cast her scruples to the wind and indulged in a really hot, scorching affair. Unfortunately, he’d kept her very firmly at arm’s length.

In her own defence, it was fair to say that Lois hadn’t known Ross Whitney was a married man. Well, not at first, anyway. And by the time she did find out it was far too late. In fact, when she’d gone completely over the top, and arrived uninvited at his privately owned Caribbean island, she had been in grave danger of making an absolute fool of herself.

Luckily, Ross and his estranged wife, Flora, had proved to be really nice people. And, of course, as soon as she’d sussed out the real situation, Lois had managed to find some hidden depths of pride and resolution. Just enough to enable her, however shakily, to retire from the field with her head held high.

In fact, she wasn’t at all sure that it hadn’t been her best performance: acting the part of a woman with clearly not a care in the world—and blithely wishing the two of them the very best of luck—before returning to the sanctuary of her own home and giving way to deep misery as she tried to mend her fragile, broken heart.

Still...no matter how hard she’d tried, and the many strict lectures she’d given herself, Lois had found it almost impossible to put Ross out of her mind—and her heart. Which was why this vacation had seemed such a very good idea. And. of course, that old proverb ‘time is the best healer’ had eventually proved to be true.

Somewhere...somehow, between viewing the Aztec ruins in Mexico and exploring the old city of Delhi, she’d managed to pull herself together. By the time she was recovering from a nasty dose of food poisoning—and being so kindly nursed back to health in that wonderfully luxurious hotel in Jaipur—Lois had woken up one morning to discover, to her complete astonishment, that she was no longer totally and irrevocably in love with Ross Whitney.

He would always have a special place in her heart, of course,. But now she felt confident of being able to take that flight home to America tomorrow—quite safe in the knowledge that she was now ready to start a new life.

All the same...just make sure that in future you stay well away from any tall, dark and ruthlessly attractive Englishmen! she warned herself grimly, before turning to swim slowly back to the shore.

‘That’s odd...’ Ace muttered, frowning as he glanced down at his wristwatch. It was the first time, during the past four days, when the weirdly dressed woman had not kept to her rigid timetable.

Not that it was anything to do with him, of course. Absolutely not! In fact, it was definitely about time he learnt to mind his own business.

However, some ten minutes later he was still feeling slightly uneasy. He didn’t want to make a nuisance of himself, of course. But perhaps it might be a good idea to take a stroll along the beach? Just to make sure that the woman really was all right... ?

Rising from his seat behind the desk, he walked slowly down to the water’s edge. And then, just as he was taking himself to task for being a fool, and about to return to his own casita, he heard a faint cry in the distance.

‘Are you all right?’ he called out some moments later as he ran swiftly towards the crumpled figure sitting hunched on the sand beside the ocean.

‘No...I guess I’ve got myself into some...some sort of mess,’ the woman replied, her American-accented voice sounding muffled beneath the hat and the voluminous gauzy outfit. She appeared to be concentrating on gripping hold of her foot with both hands.

It was only as he approached her and bent down that Ace was able to see blood seeping from between the fingers of the hands clasped so tightly about her ankle.

‘Good Lord! What’s happened?’

‘I don’t know how I could have been such an idiot.’ The woman’s voice was stronger now, and heavy with self-disgust. ‘I didn’t look where I was going. And I forgot just how sharp the coral can be.’ She nodded towards the ocean, where the line of her footsteps, intermingled with some spots of blood, was clearly visible on the white sand.

‘I think...well, I’ve got a horrid feeling that I may have cut into a vein, or something,’ she continued with a slight wobble in her voice. ‘Because, however hard I try, I can’t seem to stop it bleeding.’

‘There’s no need to panic. Just try and stay calm,’ Ace told her, swiftly assessing the situation. ‘However, it’s important to maintain pressure on the wound. So, keep holding on while I fix some bandages to tie around your ankle. OK?’

‘OK.’ She nodded. And then, as he quickly seized hold of some of the thin material swathed about her body, and began tearing it into strips, she cried, ‘Hey—don’t do that! I’ve got to keep out of the sun. Otherwise I’ll burn to a crisp.’

‘God preserve me from damn stupid women!’ he muttered grimly. ‘Do you want to get slightly burnt—or do you want to bleed to death?’ he added, taking no notice of her protests as he carefully removed her fingers before binding the gauze ‘bandages’ tightly about her ankle.

‘OK—OK...’ she sighed. ‘I guess I’ve been a bit of a fool. And I really ought to thank you for coming so promptly to my rescue.’

‘That might not be a bad idea,’ he agreed, with a sharp bark of sardonic laughter.

‘I’m sure I’ll be all right now,’ she said as he rose to his feet, frowning anxiously down at his amateur handiwork, not at all sure how long it would hold the wound together.

‘No. I think you’re very far from “all right”,’ he told her firmly. ‘You’re going to need some professional help—and as soon as possible. Have you got a first aid kit in your bungalow?’

‘I...I don’t think so,’ she muttered, burying her face in her bloodstained hands for a moment.

Ace’s mouth tightened grimly. It was difficult to see anything under that damned hat. But, from what little he could see of her face, it was obvious that the woman’s cheeks were deathly pale. Clearly there was no time to be lost in getting her some serious medical attention.

‘Well, there’s no point in hanging around here,’ he told her firmly, before quickly bending down and scooping her up into his arms.

‘Hey—what do you think you’re doing?’ she shrieked in a much stronger voice, the heavy voluminous garments hampering her movements as she tried to wriggle out of his grip. ‘Put me down at once!’

Ignoring the frantic twisting and turning of the lightweight figure in his arms, Ace began striding rapidly back up the beach.

‘I take it that you’re not entirely stupid? So, don’t you think it’s time you started using your brain?’ he demanded curtly.

When her only reply was a short, startled intake of breath, he continued grimly, ‘That’s only a temporary bandage which I’ve placed around your ankle. I don’t expect it will hold the bleeding for very long. And especially not if you try to walk back up the beach to your bungalow. Got the message?’

‘Oh, sure, I’ve got the message—you bully!’ she retorted with a shaky laugh, before muttering something else under her breath.

‘I’m sorry...I didn’t quite catch what you said.’

‘You weren’t meant to!’ she retorted. ‘But if you must know I was reminding myself that I’d vowed to stay well away from tall, dark-haired Englishmen. And especially ones who are clearly hard, tough and very bossy!’

He glanced down at the girl in his arms. Somewhere along the line, possibly due to her frantic struggling, she seemed to have lost her wide-brimmed hat. However, it wasn’t possible to tell the colour of her hair, since it was totally covered by a thick black scarf, knotted at the back of her head. Her face didn’t look particularly appetising either—her bloodstained fingers having left ugly-looking russet-brown streaks across her pale cheeks and forehead.

Only the wide blue eyes, heavily fringed by dark lashes, which appeared to be glinting with some emotion—although he wasn’t quite sure whether it was anger or laughter—gave any hint that there might be a lot more to this woman than appeared obvious at the moment.

‘Well, if it’s any consolation,’ Ace drawled as he mounted the steps to her veranda, ‘I’m normally a very polite man. In fact, I wouldn’t dream of being either “hard” or “bossy”. Unless, of course, I find myself rescuing a grumpy American lady—who’s clearly determined not to listen to any of my good advice!’ he added with a dry bark of sardonic laughter.

Striding swiftly into the cool, dim interior of the cottage, whose lay-out was similar to that of his own, he entered the bedroom and laid her gently down on the large four-poster bed.

‘Oops! I guess that’s put me well and truly in my place...huh?’ She gave a heavy, almost theatrical sigh as she leaned back against the pillows. ‘It must be really, really great to know that whatever happens in the big, bad world—you are always right.’

Staring grimly down at her, Ace had no problem in thinking of several crushing remarks which would put this irritating female very firmly in her place. And then, as he viewed the pale face, and slightly trembling hands, he realised that he’d been far too rough on this poor girl, who was now looking a lot younger than he’d at first supposed.

‘I’m sorry. I should apologise for being so rude,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s just that I was worried about the wound to your ankle. Believe me, you really must have it seen to by a doctor—and as soon as possible.’

‘Yes, well...I guess it’s my turn to apologise. I’ve obviously been a real pain in the neck,’ she admitted, gazing up in some bewilderment at the deeply tanned, hawk-like features of the tall, dark and remarkably handsome man who’d just rescued her from a nasty predicament.

‘I...I can’t think what’s come over me,’ she continued in a slightly weak, breathless tone of voice. ‘Because, I don’t...I really don’t usually behave like this.’

‘I’m sure you don’t. And—although you may find it difficult to believe—neither do I!’ He grinned. ‘So, I’m just going to ring through to the main hotel and ask them to provide some medical assistance. Once I’m satisfied that help is on the way, I promise to leave you well alone. OK?’

‘No...no...please don’t go,’ she begged, swiftly reaching up to catch hold of his hand. ‘Not...well, not until after I’ve seen the doctor.’

‘Relax—there’s no need to worry. I’ll definitely stay here for as long as you need me,’ he promised, before leaving the room.

Goodness knows what it was about this highly disturbing girl... Ace mused as he lifted the phone to call the main hotel. She looked a complete mess, of course. But there was something about the tone of her voice—and the soft gleam in those startling blue eyes—which was clearly having a rather odd effect on him. In fact, ridiculous as it might seem, he was definitely beginning to find her sexually attractive!

Luckily the hotel was able to arrange immediate attention. And Ace, waiting out on the veranda, was relieved when the doctor confirmed that the patient was now well out of danger.

‘You did well to stop the bleeding in time,’ the elderly stout man puffed, brandishing a large white handkerchief as he wiped the perspiration from his brow. ‘However, the cut is not too serious. Provided that you look after your wife, and make sure that she stays in bed for the rest of the day, she will be quite well enough to fly back to America tomorrow.’

‘What... ?’ Ace gazed at him in astonishment. ‘I’m sorry...you clearly don’t understand the situation. I can assure you that this lady is very definitely not my wife. In fact...’

‘Ah, yes, I see how it is—you lucky dog!’ the doctor chuckled, giving the Englishman a sharp dig in the ribs. ‘We are, of course, both men of the world. So, there is no need to worry. Your secret is quite safe with me,’ he added, with a friendly slap on the tall man’s shoulders, before making his way back down the steps of the veranda. ‘I will leave you to look after the lovely “lady”, yes?’

‘No! I mean...you’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick!’ he called out as the doctor disappeared from sight, leaving only the sound of a hoarse, rumbling laugh hanging heavily in the air behind him.

Ace brushed a hand roughly through his dark hair. What in the hell was he supposed to do now?

The idea of being forced to look after that strange, weird-looking girl was hardly a tempting prospect. All the same...he could hardly walk away and leave her on her own. However, with any luck she would by now be feeling tired, and only too pleased to see the back of him. Right?

Definitely feeling in need of a stiff drink. Ace braced his shoulders and forced himself to knock on the bedroom door.

‘I’m sorry to have to say that the doctor, for some strange reason, seems to have completely the wrong idea about us,’ he said as he entered the room. ‘While I’m quite willing to do what I can, I really don’t think—Good God!’

Making his way slowly across the large room, Ace—feeling as though he’d been hit on the head by a heavy lead pipe—was having considerable difficulty in accepting the evidence of his own eyes. What on earth had happened to the blood-streaked, almost grubby-looking figure of the woman whom he’d rescued from the beach less than an hour ago...?

‘I simply don’t believe it!’ he breathed, his stunned gaze travelling up over the long shapely legs and lightly tanned, hourglass figure, tantalisingly covered by a diaphanous chiffon wrap over a minuscule blue bikini which left virtually nothing to the imagination. In place of that hideous black scarf there was now a mane of long, wavy red hair—like a fiery, brilliant sunburst on the pillow—surrounding a perfect heart-shaped face, enormously wide blue eyes, and a mouth which curved as sensually as her firm, full breasts.

‘I must have died—and gone straight to heaven!’ he exclaimed huskily. ‘Because you have to be the most utterly gorgeous...fantastically beautiful girl I’ve ever seen!’

And then, as she gave a peal of laughter at the sound of his hoarse, strangled voice, and his stunned expression, he clutched hold of one of the bedposts and made a determined effort to clear his mind.

‘I...er...I’m sorry,’ he muttered, his cheeks flushing slightly as he realised that he’d been behaving like a stupid idiot. ‘It’s just that...’ He gave a distracted shake of his dark head, completely unable to put into words the effect she was having on his normally wellcontrolled self.

‘Hey—relax! There’s no need to apologise,’ the girl assured him. ‘I don’t know why the British have a reputation for being so formal and icily polite,’ she added, with a surprisingly breathless shaky laugh. ‘In my experience, you guys seem to be born with an amazing ability to make a girl feel like a million dollars!’

‘I wish it was true. But I fear you’re sadly mistaken.’ Ace smiled ruefully down at the beautiful creature lying so elegantly stretched out on the bed. ‘Unfortunately, most of the time we look—and act—as if we’re well and truly strangled by our old school ties!’

‘Oh, really...?’ She grinned. ‘Well, since you clearly aren’t wearing a tie at the moment, how about fixing us both something to drink?’

‘If the doctor gave you any medicine, you ought to avoid alcohol,’ he warned.

‘It’s OK. I haven’t even taken any aspirins,’ she assured him. ‘Although I normally drink very little, I reckon that after today’s misadventures I could do with a stiff dose of brandy.’

‘That sounds like an extremely good idea,’ he agreed, grateful for the opportunity, however brief, in which to make a determined effort to pull himself together.

It was clearly ridiculous for a grown man, approaching forty years of age, to find himself so completely bowled over by a girl—however lovely she might be, he told himself, his lips tightening grimly as he mixed their drinks at the bar in the large sitting room.

After all, following the break-up of his marriage, he’d had plenty of glamorous, highly attractive girlfriends, none of whom had caused him to lose a wink of sleep at night, or produced even the slightest ripple in his life. So why...why should it take just one brief smile from that admittedly beautiful but troublesome American girl...and he was straight into meltdown?

In fact, if he didn’t get his act together—and fast!—he was going to be in dead trouble, Ace warned himself sternly. So, he’d better get the hell out of here, and as soon as possible.

‘Well, now...’ he drawled some minutes later, sipping his brandy as he leaned casually against one of the tall, wooden posts at the end of the bed. ‘I’m hoping you can solve the mystery of why, for the past few days, you’ve been dressed like an old bag lady? Why cover yourself from head to toe in thick layers of gauze? Not to mention the reason for wearing that quite dreadful hat!’

‘There’s no mystery. I was just being very careful not to get sunburned.’ The ravishingly lovely girl grinned up at him, before holding up a lock of her fiery red hair. ‘Unfortunately, with my kind of skin, if I sit in the sun for even ten minutes I turn a bright shade of lobster. And if you want to spend some time in the water, wearing total block isn’t always the answer, either.’

‘But you’ve got a wonderful tan,’ he protested, attempting to keep his gaze well away from her luscious figure.

She shrugged. ‘Well, I’m sorry to have to tell you that like everything else in show business it’s false. Just an illusion.’

‘I know nothing about “show business”, as you call it.’ Ace shrugged, before walking through into the other room to fix them both another drink. ‘In fact, I can’t recall the last time I went to see a play or a film. And I’m not exactly keen on the ballet, either,’ he added, returning to place a glass in her hand.

‘Oh, Lord...!’ he continued, his hooded grey eyes gleaming with amusement as he stood looking down at her. ‘I hope I haven’t said the wrong thing? Are you a dancer?’

‘No, I most certainly am not!’ she laughed. ‘Anyway, who cares about what either of us does for a living? I’m far more interested in the fact that I don’t even know your name.’

‘Yes, I suppose we ought to introduce ourselves. So...’

‘Just a minute.’ She winced, struggling to adjust the pillows behind her head. ‘I seem to be getting a real crick in my neck, staring up at you like this. How about taking the weight off your feet?’ she added, patting the bed beside her.

Maybe it had been a great mistake to pour them both a second drink. Because, when thinking about the episode, much later, Ace would totally fail to understand why he’d chosen to ignore the loud warning bells ringing so urgently in his head as he slowly lowered himself down onto the soft mattress.

‘That’s much better,’ she sighed, raising a hand to rub the back of her neck. ‘So, how about if I kick off by saying that, as far as Christian names are concerned, my parents chose to call me Eloise.’

‘Well, Eloise...’ he began, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the effect that the close proximity of this amazingly sexy girl was having on his body. ‘I...er...I regret to have to tell you that I am one of those very boring members of society—a lawyer. And, even worse, at my christening I was burdened with the truly awful names of Algernon Cedric Emerson!’

‘I’m not sure that “awful” is exactly the right word,’ she murmured, clearly trying not to laugh. ‘I’d be more inclined to call it downright cruel. Because I’m afraid that there is nothing in the least romantic about the name Algernon.’

‘You’re so right!’ he drawled, desperately fighting a totally crazy, insane urge to make mad, passionate love to this gorgeous creature who was smiling so enchantingly up at him. ‘Which is why, from my earliest years, I’ve insisted on being called by the name formed by my initials.’

‘Hmm...that’s a lot better,’ she agreed, the warm gleam in her wide blue eyes causing his pulse to begin racing out of control. ‘Yes, I think that Ace is just about the perfect name for a guy like you.’

There was a long silence as they gazed at one another, the smile slowly dying from her lips, her cheeks reddening slightly under his steady gaze.

‘I could be very wrong, of course,’ he said slowly, ‘but I have the distinct impression that there’s definitely something going on here, between the two of us?’

‘Well... er...maybe... yes. I think you could possibly be right,’ she agreed breathlessly. ‘It’s absolutely crazy, of course.’

‘Absolutely crazy,’ he agreed softly, his grey eyes darkening momentarily as she nervously moistened her dry lips with her tongue.

‘And... and we hardly know one another,’ she added with a helpless shrug, closing her eyes for a moment as a deep crimson flush spread over her face. ‘But... well, the truth is...um...I have to confess that I’m certainly feeling very... er... very peculiar!’

‘Believe me—you’re not the only one!’ he murmured huskily. Raising a hand, he brushed a stray tendril of hair from her brow before gently trailing his fingers over her cheeks and on down over the incredibly soft, velvety flesh of her neck to the creamy hollows at the base of her throat.

‘However, before I completely lose all control of my senses, I think you’d better tell me to go away,’ he added thickly, his heart pounding like a sledgehammer as she responded to his light caress with a low moan. ‘Quite frankly—we’re both likely to be in a whole lot of trouble if I remain here any longer.’

‘No...don’t go,’ she whispered softly, raising her arms and placing them about his dark head, before drawing him slowly down towards her. ‘I really don’t understand what’s happening to me. And...and I can promise you that I’ve never done anything like this before. But please...please don’t go.’

‘Wild horses wouldn’t be able to drag me away!’ he breathed huskily, before gathering the slim figure up into his arms, his mouth closing possessively over her soft, trembling lips.

CHAPTER TWO

ACE put down his pen, sighing heavily as he leaned back in his chair and gazed out through the window of his study at the trees and parkland surrounding Ratcliffe Hall.

It was now three months since he’d returned from abroad. A hard, frantically busy three months, dealing with the burdensome legacy of his inheritance: a dilapidated ‘stately home’ and an estate which had been badly neglected for many years.

With so much work to do—including many long, drawn-out meetings with the family trustees—he’d had no alternative but to resign from his position as senior partner of the large firm of lawyers in London. However, while he’d originally thought that he might miss the cut and thrust of City business, Ace had been surprised to discover that he’d gained a considerable bonus. Despite now being forced by circumstances to live in the country, he’d found himself actively enjoying the slower pace of quiet, rural life. But that was just about the only silver lining to the dark clouds which still loomed over his unexpected inheritance.

His young daughter, Emily, appeared to find the whole situation highly amusing—‘It’s really cool, Dad—totally far out!’ But Ace wasn’t particularly thrilled about the fact that, following so many close relatives’ deaths, he’d now inherited a title first granted to his family by Henry VIII.

As he had told one of his oldest friends the other day, ‘Quite frankly, to be now known and addressed as Lord Ratcliffe has to be a complete anachronism in this day and age. Of course, it’s quite useful if I want to book a table in a restaurant,’ he’d added with a wry smile. ‘But in all other respects it seems a bit pointless.’

Ace was, in fact, far more concerned with the many important, vital decisions he would have to take concerning the large estate, amounting to some ten thousand acres.

After calling in agricultural experts, he had learned that, while the land itself was in good heart, the various farmhouses, farm buildings, machinery and livestock had been badly neglected. Unlike his uncle Hector, who’d successfully managed to ignore the problem for so many years, Ace felt it was both his duty and responsibility to do everything he could on behalf of the people and the families living on his estate. Unfortunately, there was also the serious problem of exactly what he was going to do about Ratcliffe Hall.

Pushing back his chair and rising to his feet, he began to prowl restlessly around the large room.

Having made enquiries, he was now in no doubt that, as matters stood at present, it was useless to even think of trying to sell the huge old mansion. No one with any sense would dream of taking on such a massive house. Especially one which needed a great deal of money to be spent on its restoration.

And that was proving to be a real problem. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford to pay for the repairs—having worked so hard in the City for the last twenty years, he was now very wealthy in his own right—but, as his own financial advisers had pointed out, why would a divorced man, with no intention of remarrying in the foreseeable future, want to spend a fortune restoring such a huge building which was clearly designed for a large family?

In fact, the whole problem of what to do about Ratcliffe Hall had proved to be nothing but a major headache. Until he’d heard about the needs of film and television companies, who were continually searching for large old houses in which to film their various productions. Which was why, after he’d swiftly contacted several agencies, he’d been pleased to have a TV crew here last month, filming the exterior of the Hall for an Edwardian-style version of Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors.

It wasn’t the complete answer, of course. Although the fee which he’d received for the use of the place was almost indecently large, it was a mere drop in the ocean as far as paying for any serious repairs was concerned. Still, it was a start. And with the arrival yesterday of an American-financed film company, prepared to take over and use the whole of the mansion for at least a month, it now looked as though he could stop worrying about the house. For the time being, at least.

He’d also been successful in persuading the tax authorities to take, in part-settlement of death duties, two huge Old Master paintings. While they had been all that was left of a once large, well-known collection, he wasn’t prepared to spend too long regretting their departure. Especially since the dark, gloomy scenes of religious life had been highly depressing.

So, all in all, he hadn’t done too badly over these last three months, Ace assured himself. In fact...

His thoughts interrupted by the shrill, ringing tones of the telephone, he strode back to his desk and lifted the receiver.

Grimacing at the all too familiar sounds of his ex-wife’s breathless, child-like voice, he waited with grim patience to discover what she wanted. Because, of course, Martina wouldn’t dream of ringing him up—not unless she needed something. He could only hope that there was no problem with his daughter, Emily.

Looking back, it seemed to Ace as if their marriage had been doomed from the start. Originally captivated by the tall, exquisitely beautiful model, whose face had adorned so many magazine covers, it hadn’t been long before he’d discovered that there was very little in that lovely blonde head. And, to be fair, she had obviously been disappointed to find that she’d married a man who not only took his work seriously, but whom she clearly regarded as a boring workaholic.

Missing the world of the media and show business, it hadn’t been long before Martina had run away from home to live with a cockney pop star. She had also taken their small young daughter with her. Despite desperately missing his little girl, and being prepared to do just about anything to ensure his daughter’s happiness, Ace had bent over backwards to ensure that he remained on good, friendly terms with both his ex-wife and the new man in her life, Joe Tucker.

Surprisingly, it hadn’t proved to be too hard a task. The pop star had turned out to be a basically kind and thoroughly decent man. And Ace could only admire the fact that Joe—professionally known as Frank N. Stein, and lead singer of the Raving Monsters—had turned out to be far too shrewd and down-to-earth to make the mistake of marrying Martina.

Unfortunately, as time had gone by, it began to seem that neither the pop star or Ace’s ex-wife had any idea of how to cope with Emily, by now a thoroughly difficult fourteen-year-old adolescent. And Ace himself was also becoming increasingly worried about the young girl—not only going through a typically ‘rebellious’ phase of life, but also receiving little discipline from her butterflyminded mother.

‘OK...OK...’ he sighed, cutting across his ex-wife’s ramblings. ‘I’ve got the picture. And you can tell Emily that I’m thoroughly ashamed of her behaviour. What on earth possessed her to swear at her teacher? There’s absolutely no excuse for such bad manners. Quite frankly, she’s very lucky to find herself suspended from school for only a few weeks,’ he added grimly. ‘Yes...yes, of course...if you’re having to go abroad for a few days she’s more than welcome to stay here with me. In fact, she can probably make herself useful by keeping the film company off my back.’

And that last remark, he told himself ruefully, putting down the phone some minutes later, had been a bad mistake. Because as soon as his ex-wife had heard the magic words ‘film company’ he’d had the greatest difficulty in persuading her that while Emily was more than welcome Martina definitely was not.

On top of which, there had been a decidedly unwelcome over-friendly tone in his ex-wife’s voice. In fact, he told himself with a frown, if it didn’t sound too ridiculous, it had almost seemed as if she’d been seeking some form of reconciliation...

However, he had absolutely no intention of going back down that road. His daughter, Emily, might be badly in need of a stable home environment, but there was absolutely no way he could ever face remarrying her neurotic, shallow and empty-headed mother.

He’d had several glamorous girlfriends since his wife had walked out all those years ago. But either he’d grown quickly tired of their company or they, too, had become fed up with always coming a bad second to his working life. In fact, Ace had never seen any reason to get married again—basically on the principle of ‘once bitten...twice shy’. Not until his heart had been totally captured following that brief, quite extraordinary meeting with the bewitchingly lovely Eloise.

It was three long months since their passionate encounter, but he could still recall his delight at the miraculous way their two figures had seemed to fit so perfectly together, and the excitement of gently caressing her quivering, trembling flesh, which had almost seemed to melt beneath his fingers. If he closed his eyes, he could still smell the intoxicating, sweetly perfumed scent of her body, still hear her soft moans and breathless gasps of pleasure as their lovemaking had become more intense, both inciting and increasing his own fastmounting desire.

Although he had tried to keep himself well under control, the thrillingly erotic, sensual touch of her hands and mouth on his body had overcome all restraint. Helplessly gripped by the fierce power of a deep primeval force, the like of which he’d never known before, he’d finally possessed her with a raging, thrusting urgency, the loud, pounding thud of her heart beating in rapid unison with his own as they’d both climaxed together in wave upon wave of ecstasy, before spiralling dizzily back down to earth.

Afterwards, as they’d lain entwined together in languorous warmth and tenderness, with Ace gently brushing tendrils of that wonderful fiery red hair from her damp brow, he’d known with absolute certainty that he had never, until that moment, experienced such overwhelming joy and happiness.

Try as he might, he’d been quite unable to forget the impact of that utterly astounding, spellbinding experience. Unfortunately, however much he might have loathed the idea, Ace had known that he had no choice but to return to his new, heavy responsibilities in England. It was also clear that, with the width of the Atlantic Ocean as a permanent barrier between himself and Eloise, there could be no ‘happy ever after’ ending to their brief night of passion.

Besides, he was old enough to know that the sooner he did his best to put Eloise out of his mind, the better. There was obviously no way that they would ever meet again. And to be continually recalling the wondrous, soft quality of her skin, the truly dazzling heights which they’d attained in their lovemaking, could only make his present-day life even harder than it was already.

Lois gazed out of the window of the limousine as it sped along the motorway. The countryside was so different from that in the United States; it was taking her some time to get used to the very small scale of local geography here in England.

London, of course, had been great. When she’d first arrived in the country, some three weeks ago, she’d managed to find the time—amidst costume fittings, voice coaching sessions and learning her script—to see the usual tourist sights of Buckingham Palace, the Tower and Westminster Abbey. But, this last week, which had been spent filming location shots outside various old houses all over the country, had been something else! In fact...

‘You’re going to love this house. It’s far grander than the others we’ve used so far.’

‘Hmm...?’ Lois turned to look at her personal assistant, Peggy Fraser. who was leafing through a large file on her lap.

‘Now... this is what I call a real stately home,’ the English girl said, handing Lois a large black and white photograph.

‘It certainly looks impressive,’ Lois agreed, gazing at the picture of a classical Georgian-style Palladian mansion, whose entrance was dominated by huge stone pillars above a broad, sweeping expanse of wide stone steps. ‘What’s the interior like?’

‘Absolutely frightful!’ the other girl laughed. ‘In fact, the main rooms are in a terrible state. But, as the producer says, that’s all to the good. It’s meant that we’ve had a completely free hand in the decoration.’

‘Are we really staying there?’ Lois frowned. ‘It looks pretty uncomfortable to me. What’s wrong with a nice, quiet local hotel?’

Peggy shrugged. ‘I understand the film company negotiated a really good package deal with the owner. Which means that we can use practically the whole house—including all twenty-five bedrooms!—and the catering company will have masses of room in the enormous kitchens. In fact,’ the small blonde girl added with a grin, ‘I reckon it’s going to be a lot of fun.’

‘In your dreams!’ Lois told her assistant gloomily. ‘I’ll lay you any odds that the plumbing will be practically non-existent. And I don’t suppose that anyone will be too familiar with those important words “constant hot water”, either!’

‘Well, you may have a point,’ Peggy admitted. ‘But with the schedules having to be altered at the last minute...’ She shrugged. ‘I suppose this is the best that the production team could come up with under the circumstances.’

‘I guess you’re right,’ Lois sighed, well aware that it was solely her fault that there had been such frantically hurried necessary changes in the film’s shooting schedule.

Unfortunately, her appointment to see an eminent doctor in Harley Street, two weeks ago, had been fairly traumatic. Not being entirely a fool, she’d had a very good idea that he would confirm her suspicions. But, all the same...the whole scenario was definitely an earth-shattering one.

However, she was going to have to pull herself together pretty damn fast. Especially since the American backers of this new film had made it abundantly clear that the whole show was now riding on her slim shoulders.

‘We know that you’ll do us proud,’ Sol Weiser had said, when she’d signed the contract some months ago, his wide, beaming smile not reflected in those cold, small piggy eyes. ‘But, let’s face it, darling—without your name on the credits, we wouldn’t have dreamed of putting up the money for this arty type of film. So, we’re all going to make sure it’s a success, right?’

‘I’ll certainly do my best. It won’t be my fault if this film bombs at the box office,’ she’d told him with a confident smile.

However, after leaving his office, Lois had known that she wouldn’t be human if she hadn’t been plagued by doubts. Which had made it all the more nerve-racking when she’d had to phone Sol last week and tell him the news: she’d just discovered she was expecting a baby.

There had been an ominous silence for three days, before she’d heard that the film had been given the goahead. Although, in view of her changed circumstances, the schedule had been drastically altered.

‘I’d like to pull the plug on this production,’ Sol had told her, his voice heavy with disapproval. ‘But the other backers seem to feel that if Madonna could manage to cope with the problem—and have such a great success with Evita—we ought to take a chance that you, too, can pull it off. But, I don’t want any press exposure. So I expect everyone to keep their mouths buttoned up real tight. Do I make myself clear?’ he’d added menacingly.

‘As daylight,’ she’d assured him fervently. ‘After all, Sol, I’m hardly likely to want to....’ Her voice had faltered as she heard him slam down the phone.

So, now only the director, the producer and Peggy Fraser had been told the truth.

Peggy’s involvement had been crucial, of course. Originally employed as the English costume designer, she’d also agreed to act as Lois’ personal assistant, so as to keep the pregnancy as secret at possible.

As Peggy had pointed out, the fact that the film was set in the nineteenth century Regency period was going to be an enormous help. ‘The high-waisted dresses of the time are just about perfect for your condition,’ she’d told Lois during the costume fittings in London. ‘We shouldn’t have a problem disguising any thickening of your figure.’

Let’s hope she’s right, Lois told herself now, turning her head to gaze out of the window once more. Because she really wanted this film to be a great success.

Adapted from a short story by Jane Austen, written when the author was a young girl, Lady Susan should—if everything went according to plan—provide her with a golden opportunity to prove that she could extend her repertoire and succeed in playing a classic role. Lois had been excited by the screenplay—and the opportunity to play the lead part of Lady Susan: a heroine who was both diabolically attractive and, at the same time, a thoroughly wicked woman.

Quite apart from anything else, it certainly made a change from her more usual roles, playing feisty, gogetting modern heroines, along the lines of her last Oscar-winning movie.

Unfortunately, the Harley Street doctor’s confirmation of what she’d suspected for the past few weeks had certainly thrown a spanner in the works.

Glancing down, Lois placed a hand on her stomach. While her breasts had definitely increased in size, there didn’t yet seem to be any other sign that she was now three months pregnant. And with a tight filming schedule she might still be able to get to the end of the shoot without anyone suspecting the truth. Besides, Sol’s fellow backers had been right. If Madonna had managed to make the film of Evita while expecting a baby—then surely she, too, should be able to cope.

It was all the fault of that bout of illness which she’d suffered in India, Lois told herself grimly as the limousine left the motorway and began moving smoothly through the Sussex countryside.

Despite the fact that she’d never been in any way promiscuous, Lois had always believed in taking sensible, safe precautions against an unwanted or unplanned pregnancy. Unfortunately, as the doctor in London had so accurately pointed out, while the mini-pill would normally have provided adequate protection against any unforeseen accidents, her tummy upset in India had left her unwittingly vulnerable.

Which was why it had never occurred to her—not in a million years!—that the quite extraordinary and totally mind-blowing brief episode with the highly attractive Englishman could have resulted in her conceiving a child.

However, while the idea of having a baby had, quite frankly, come as a terrible shock, there was no way she could ever contemplate having an abortion. Nor did it seem right to even try and trace the father. Although there couldn’t be too many Algernon Cedric Emersons hanging around England, she told herself wryly.

Besides, she could hardly blame Ace for the fact that they’d both been swept off their normally sane, sensible feet by an overwhelming tide of lust and desire. Since she had assured him that she was, as far as she knew at the time, taking adequate birth control precautions, it seemed totally wrong to expect Ace to carry any responsibility for the mess in which she now found herself.

What had happened was nothing more or less than a pure accident. And Lois had no doubts that she must be solely responsible for both the birth and upbringing of her child.

Leaning back in her seat, and resting her head against the soft leather upholstery, she gazed blindly past the dark figure of the chauffeur in the front of the vehicle. Oblivious of the green fields and small villages, her mind filled with memories of that extraordinary night of passion.

Goodness knows what it had been about Ace which had prompted her to so swiftly discard the cautious habits of a lifetime. Indeed, what had prompted her to behave and act so completely out of character was still a complete and utter mystery.

Maybe it was a legacy from her strict, God-fearing ancestors, who’d come to America from Europe at the beginning of the last century? Or perhaps it was her firm, no-nonsense upbringing by stern but loving parents? But, whatever the cause, she’d never felt at ease amongst those otherwise good friends who saw nothing wrong in hopping in and out of bed with complete strangers. She had always believed that a loving, long-term relationship was one thing—while a one-night stand was quite another.

And yet...how are the mighty fallen! Lois told herself with disgust. It certainly looked as though little Snow White had now ‘drifted’ more than somewhat!

Goodness knows why she’d behaved so totally out of character. Maybe it was something to do with the dangerous gleam in his sleepy-looking hooded grey eyes? But it had merely taken one glance at the tall, dynamically attractive Englishman—and she’d immediately taken leave of her senses!

Even when he’d been carrying her back to her small cottage on the beach, Lois had felt a desperate urge to remain clasped in his arms, and had felt almost totally bereft when he’d left her alone in the bedroom to call for the doctor.

Of course, the brandy she’d tossed so happily down her throat hadn’t helped the situation. She was normally only used to drinking a glass or two of wine, and the strong alcohol had seemed to release all her inhibitions. When he’d gathered her into his embrace, possessing her lips in such a tender, heart-stopping kiss, she’d... well, there was simply no other way of putting it...she’d totally lost all control.

Quickly shutting her eyes, it was all Lois could do not to moan out loud, as she recalled the exquisite warmth of his mouth on hers, the ever-increasing passion and desire, flashing like forked lightning through her entire being as she responded helplessly to the seductive, feather-light touch of his fingers tracing patterns of fire on her quivering flesh.

Firmly in the grip of a shuddering excitement at the feel of his naked, hard-muscled figure pressed closely to her own trembling body, she’d feverishly responded to his softly whispered murmurs of delight as his mouth and hands had moved so erotically over her quivering flesh. Nor, however much she had tried, could she forget the moment of his possession, the vortex of spiralling excitement produced by the hard, pulsating rhythm, until her world had seemed to explode in an amazing fireburst of convulsive, shuddering pleasure so intense that it had been almost more than she could bear.

Later, as she had lain sleepily enfolded in his arms, his fingers gently brushing the damp curls from her brow, she couldn’t recall ever feeling such happiness and contentment. But, waking with the dawn to find him gone, she had known—even as she’d wept painful, bitter tears—that he had done them both a favour.

Since they clearly came from two very different worlds, it would never be possible to recapture the joy they had experienced together. And even when Lois had discovered she was expecting his baby she had instinctively known that she must never hark back, regretting what might have been, but look forward to cherishing the new life which lay within her.

‘It seems as though we’re arrived at last.’ Peggy’s voice broke into her thoughts, and Lois looked up to see that their vehicle was now slowing down. Turning off the main road, the limousine drove past two small houses, standing guard on either side of a pair of large wrought-iron gates. It moved slowly down a long gravelled drive, and she noticed that they were surrounded by a large park dotted with clumps of tall oak trees.

‘It certainly looks like my idea of a grand English country estate,’ Lois said, smiling at the sight of a flock of sheep busy nibbling the long, lush green grass.

‘But all the same,’ she continued, her gaze narrowing as she peered through the open window, ‘I can’t help feeling it all looks just a bit...well, a bit run-down, if you know what I mean?’

‘You’re right,’ the other girl agreed, staring out at the sight of long, uncut grass swaying in the slight afternoon breeze. ‘However, the producer, Dave Green, was telling me that they’d chosen this location just because it looked so authentic. And, when you think about it, I suppose it’s obvious, really.’

When Lois turned to look at her in surprise, Peggy explained, ‘It didn’t occur to me, either. But of course there were no mowing machines in the eighteenth century. In fact, if anyone had wanted to cut the grass, it would have needed a large gang of men with scythes to do the job. Incidentally, I hear that the director is intending to add that sort of background, rural type of scene to the film schedule. Maybe shooting it some time next week.’

‘It’s amazing that just one family should live in such a large house,’ Lois murmured as the limousine swept up to the front of the house, dominated by the large stone pillars.

‘Well, they obviously aren’t living too well at the moment,’ the other girl pointed out as she gathered her papers and files together. ‘So, maybe the owner has fallen on hard times? Because Dave told me that Lord Ratcliffe is quite happy for us to do anything we like with the house and grounds,’ she added as the chauffeur came around to open the door and help them with their bags. ‘Which is fair enough, considering it’s costing the film company a staggering amount of money to hire this place.’

‘It certainly looks as if he’s going to need every dime he can lay his hands on,’ Lois agreed dryly as she gazed at the crumbling stonework and badly cracked flight of steps leading up to the front door.

Preceded by the chauffeur, carrying their suitcases into the house, Lois found herself amongst a crowd of actors, half of whom were in costume, all milling around the vast hall.

‘Lovely to see you, darling,’ the producer called out, hurrying through the noisy throng to greet her. ‘You’re looking great!’ he added, clearly relieved to note that the beautiful girl, casually dressed in slim-cut jeans and a white T-shirt under a navy blue blazer, didn’t seem to have put on an ounce of weight.

‘How’s everything going?’ she asked, staring up at the heavily decorated plaster ceiling.

‘Amazingly, we appear to be on schedule at the moment. Our beloved director, Peter, is busy rehearsing a scene in the Orangery at the moment. But he’s looking forward to seeing you at dinner tonight,’ he said, taking hold of her arm and warning her to be careful of the thick, electrical cables littering the marble floor. ‘Far more to the point, darling...how are you feeling?’ He grinned. ‘No morning sickness, I hope?’

‘For heaven’s sake—keep your voice down!’ she warned him grimly. ‘I hope you realise that if word gets out, Sol will be only too happy to pull the plug on this film. So, let’s cut out the wisecracks—huh?’

‘Oops! I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right,’ Dave admitted, the smile quickly wiped from his face at the thought of invoking Sol Weiser’s wrath. ‘Ah, there’s our host, Lord Ratcliffe,’ he added, obviously glad to change the subject as he waved at a tall figure standing in a doorway on the other side of the vast hall.

‘What’s he like?’

‘Absolutely divine! All the girls have fallen madly in love with our noble lord—and I bet you will, too!’

‘Ha-ha!’ she retorted, feeling too tired after the journey to put up with any of Dave’s usual camp style. Especially since she happened to know that he was a happily married man, and crazy about his two young children.

‘No, really, I’m not joking. Well...not entirely,’ Dave said as he led her across the room. ‘For instance, I’m sorry to have to tell you that Lord Ratcliffe is far more impressive than your leading man in this film.’

‘Oh, come on—there’s nothing wrong with Neil Gray,’ she protested. ‘In fact, he’s a damn good actor.’

Dave shrugged. ‘I’m not knocking Neil. It’s just that this guy has definitely got a lot more going for him.’

‘Oh, yeah...?’ Lois snorted derisively. But she didn’t have an opportunity to say any more as she was suddenly swept up in a large bear-hug from a well-known character actor whom she hadn’t seen for some years.

Busy catching up on his news, she was slightly irritated to find her arm being tugged by Dave.

‘Come on, Lois,’ he called out over the general hubbub, dragging her over to the tall, dark-haired man standing beside a marble column. ‘I’d like to introduce you to—’

‘For heaven’s sake, Dave, you might have let me finish talking to Bart. It’s years since we’ve seen one another.’

‘Lord Ratcliffe,’ the producer continued, taking no notice of her protest as he turned to their host. ‘I don’t think you’ve yet had the pleasure of meeting our famous leading lady—Miss Lois Shelton.’

It was clearly a close call as to which of the two people concerned looked the most stunned.

For her part, Lois knew that she ought to have the advantage in this sort of situation. Surely all those years of acting so many parts should have enabled her to swiftly assume an expression of polite disinterest?

Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to get a firm grip on herself. Perhaps she was hallucinating? Because, although it couldn’t possibly be true...it definitely looked as if... Oh my God! What in the hell do I do now? she asked herself desperately, suddenly feeling sick as she realised that it really was Ace who was now staring down at her; the blood draining swiftly from his face, as if he’d just seen a ghost.

With harsh, cold reality beginning to break through the chaos and turmoil in her mind, Lois made a determined effort to pull herself together.

However weird or totally bizarre such a coincidence might be, she was going to have to face the fact that this man—with whom she’d had a brief, passionate encounter in the Philippines—was not just some anonymous English lawyer. Unfortunately, it now seemed that he was, in reality, Lord Ratcliffe, the owner of this huge old house.

It felt as if she had been standing here, in a state of numb disbelief, for an enormous length of time. However, she realised that she could only have been mentally paralysed for just a few seconds. With Dave continuing to chatter away, nineteen to the dozen, Lois gradually began to get a grip on her muzzy brain. While the man she’d known as Ace, remained staring down at her; his hawk-like features frozen into an expression of utter shock and bewilderment.

And it was the sight of Lord Ratcliffe—as she was now clearly going to have to call him—which helped her to make the first move.

Instinctively taking pity on the poor man—who looked as if he might expire from a heart attack any minute—Lois took a step forward and put out her hand.

‘How do you do, Lord Ratcliffe?’ she murmured, carefully avoiding his eyes. ‘It’s...um...it’s very nice to meet you.’

Clearly making a supreme effort to gather his scattered wits, Ace at last managed to find his voice.

‘I don’t think “very nice” are exactly the words I would use, Miss...er...Miss Shelton,’ he drawled slowly, gallantly raising her hand to his lips.

‘In fact, as far as I’m concerned,’ he added, the heavylidded, clear grey eyes now glinting with wry, sardonic amusement, ‘that well-known phrase “enchanted to meet you” would seem to be far more appropriate!’

CHAPTER THREE

‘I DON’T know about you—but I’m completely lost!’

‘You’re not the only one,’ Lois muttered as she and Peggy, accompanied by two sturdy men carrying their luggage, followed the producer’s assistant up yet another long flight of stairs.

Downstairs, in the large hall, she’d been so anxious to escape from the shockingly unexpected, completely unnerving encounter with Ace that she couldn’t have cared less where she was being taken. But this long hike through dusty back passages, up stairs and along corridors—mostly lined with gloomy ancestral portraits—was definitely beginning to get her down.

‘Here we are,’ the assistant announced, consulting a list on the clipboard in her hands as they at last came to a halt by a grand, impressively large pair of double doors.

‘I’m sorry we had to make such a long detour, because of all the electrical cables and camera equipment,’ the girl continued, moving aside to allow one of the men to carry Lois’ suitcases through into the room, ‘however, Dave Green wanted you to have the very best accommodation. And this, so I’m told, is the Grand State Bedroom, originally designed in the eighteenth century for visiting royalty.’

‘crumbs...!’ Peggy gasped as she and Lois followed the girl into the large room. ‘Did any kings and queens really sleep in here?’

‘No, I believe it was more a case of having a special room available—just in case they might want to spend a night at Ratcliffe Hall,’ the assistant said, before once again consulting her clipboard. ‘And now, Miss Fraser, I’ll show you to your bedroom. We’re running a little behind time, so...’

‘Well, I...er...I’ll see you later,’ Peggy muttered, casting a nervous glance at Lois—who’d remained utterly silent since they’d entered the room—before hurrying after the assistant, who was now moving swiftly on down the corridor.

Left on her own, Lois quickly closed her eyes and counted up to ten. Unfortunately, when she opened them again, her fervent hope that she’d been hallucinating was quickly dispelled. It was not a psychedelic dream. She really was standing in the midst of what could only be described as a total nightmare.

Gazing in horrified astonishment around the enormous room, her eyes were immediately drawn to the truly massive four-poster bed, set up on a high dias. Heavily festooned with thick satin swags, tails and drapes, in a depressing shade of deep crimson edged with wide, dark gold fringing, the whole monstrous edifice was topped by tall sprays of red and gold ostrich feather plumes at each of the four corners.

‘Oh, Lord!’ she muttered helplessly, turning her head to stare with dismay at the walls, covered with the same dark red satin, on which were hung many large, sombre portraits of grim-faced men and women, all dressed in costumes of a bygone age. And the bare, dark oak boards covering the floor did little to make the huge, formal room look more comfortably, either. Even the heavy, crimson satin curtains—draped in such a way over the windows as to exclude most of the warm afternoon sun—contributed to the general atmosphere of doom and gloom.

Her heart sinking down into her boots, Lois told herself that she’d never seen such a deeply depressing room. In fact, all this place needed were several large cobwebs hanging from that awful bed and it would be a perfect setting for a horror movie!

The adjacent bathroom was no better. All her bad vibes and dark suspicions about the lack of modern plumbing were amply confirmed as she peered gingerly around the door, her eyes widening at the sight of the ancient bathtub—into which, she was convinced, three or four grown men could have fitted with ease.

Moving closer, she stared in bewilderment at a complicated-looking semi-circular steel structure, enclosing one end of the bath. At least six or seven feet high, it appeared to have many old-fashioned white china handles and knobs, labelled with words such as ‘spray’, ‘jet’ and ‘douche’. But it wasn’t until Lois noticed a large object at the top of the massive edifice—a twelve-inch-diameter circle of metal, covered in holes—that light slowly began to dawn.

‘Good heavens... it must be some kind of shower!’ she breathed, taking a step back to view the complicated, dangerous-looking contraption with a mixture of incredulity and horror.

Trailing slowly back into the gloomy bedroom, Lois gave a heavy sigh. The thought of having to spend even one night in this ghastly room—not to mention that bathroom, clearly dating from the dawn of time—was bad enough. But to have to put up with it for six weeks...? No way!

On the other hand, she really didn’t need the likely hassle involved in trying to change her room.

In the movie business there were many actresses who’d managed to get themselves a bad reputation by acting like thoroughly spoilt children. And, since most people seemed only too willing to believe the worst, she’d always done her best to avoid being known as a prima donna. Unfortunately, and however unfair it might be, she knew that if she did complain about this bedroom the word would soon get around that Lois Shelton was nothing but a pain in the butt.

Either way—you just can’t win! she told herself with another heavy sigh.

But, hey! This awful bedroom was the very least of her problems, right? She had far more important things to worry about, Lois reminded herself grimly, pacing restlessly up and down the room. Such as, what in the heck she was going to do about her utterly unexpected reunion with Ace...?

Try as she might, Lois couldn’t seem to get a firm grip on the situation. Talk about the fickle finger of fate! How was it possible that a man whom she’d only met once—on the other side of the world, for heaven’s sake!—should now turn out to be some kind of aristocrat, and the owner of this huge old house?

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