The Marriage Deal
Sara Craven

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Former journalist SARA CRAVEN published her first novel ‘Garden of Dreams’ for Mills & Boon in 1975. Apart from her writing (naturally!) her passions include reading, bridge, Italian cities, Greek islands, the French language and countryside, and her rescue Jack Russell/cross Button. She has appeared on several TV quiz shows and in 1997 became UK TV Mastermind champion. She lives near her family in Warwickshire – Shakespeare country.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

COVER

TITLE PAGE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ENDPAGE

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

A CAR door slammed, and high heels clicked across the paving stones with brisk impatience. As the glass doors of the towering office block swung open, the security guard got to his feet, his usually impassive face registering faint surprise.

‘Miss Landon—we weren’t expecting you back for another ten days …’

He was left gaping after Ashley Landon’s retreating back as it pursued an openly stormy passage to the lift, and with a shrug he returned to his cubicle.

‘Someone’s for it,’ he remarked to no one in particular.

The lift stopped at the sixth floor, and the doors glided open to release the sole passenger. She was a slim girl, slightly above medium height, the sculptured lines of her elegantly bobbed black hair giving emphasis to her pointed chin and high cheekbones. Her clothes were expensive, but sat awkwardly on her body, as if she’d had other things on her mind when she put them on. And the muted beige of her skirt and jacket did nothing for her clear, pale skin, or her green eyes, glinting now like an angry cat’s.

When she reached the door marked ‘Company Secretary’ she flung it open and walked in without knocking with the air of one who has the right, past the startled typist, and straight into the inner office.

Henry Brett was on the telephone, and he looked up frowning at the unceremonious opening of his door, his face clearing instantly when he saw his visitor.

He made a swift excuse to his caller, and replaced his receiver, coming round his desk, hand outstretched.

‘Ashley, my dear, you’re back already. That’s wonderful!’

‘Hardly the way I’d describe the disruption of my first vacation in three years,’ Ashley rejoined crisply. ‘But the signals seemed too urgent to ignore. What the hell’s going on?’

Henry Brett sighed, steering her to a chair. ‘A takeover,’ he said succinctly. ‘Marshalls are making yet another bid for our shares.’

‘They must be mad,’ Ashley said, dropping her bag to the floor beside her. ‘They got a very conclusive answer the last time they tried it, and nothing’s changed.’

‘I’m afraid it has,’ Henry said levelly. He pressed a buzzer on his desk, and spoke into the intercom. ‘Jean, could you rustle up some coffee?’

‘Not for me,’ Ashley cut in.

‘I think when you’ve heard me out, you’re going to need some stimulant,’ said Henry, his genial face sober. ‘I can’t hide it from you, Ashley. This time they mean business, and they could succeed. According to the recent soundings I’ve been taking, they could have a majority of our board on their side.’

There was a brief appalled silence, then Ashley said, ‘Henry, you can’t be serious! Why, last time, every member of the board was solidly one hundred per cent behind Landons.’

‘They were solidly one hundred per cent behind your father,’ Henry said grimly. ‘But Silas has been dead for two years, my dear. And you must remember that quite apart from the fact that his personality could carry anything through, most of the board owed him a great deal. After all, he’d put the majority of them where they were, and that counted—then.’

‘But not any more.’ There was a painful constriction in Ashley’s throat. ‘My God, Henry, I know I’m not my father, and never can be, but I’ve done my best to run the company exactly as he would have done …’

‘No one would deny that.’ Seated on the edge of his desk, Henry sent her a compassionate look. ‘You’ve done everything and more that anyone could expect, but the fact remains …’

‘The fact remains I’m not a man,’ Ashley said with a mirthless smile. ‘And the board—hidebound traditionalists every one of them—have never believed a woman of my age is capable of running a property development company the size of Landons.’

Henry looked embarrassed. ‘Hang it all, Ashley, it was Silas’ own view, and you know it.’

‘Yes,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But Henry, I’ve tried so hard to be the son he wanted—I really have …’

‘No one could have done more,’ he assured her warmly. ‘But it was a responsibility Silas never wanted you to have. It was that damnfool rule of your grandfather’s that only a member of the family could become company chairman that had him hidebound. That was why …’ He stopped in sudden embarrassment. ‘Oh, damnation!’

‘It’s all right, Henry,’ Ashley said in a level voice. ‘I won’t fall apart at the seams if you talk about it. My God, it was over three years ago!’

‘All right then,’ Henry said quietly. ‘That was why he wanted you to marry Jago Marrick. As his son-in-law, Jago would have become chairman after Silas—the strong man at the top the board wanted.’

‘Oh, Jago was that all right.’ Ashley bit her lip. ‘It was as husband material that he failed to meet requirements. But that’s all in the past. He’s settled in the States now, and probably on his way to his second million.’

‘Or even his third,’ Henry said wryly. He paused. ‘But I’m glad to hear you’ve managed to put the whole sorry business behind you. I had to think very hard about bringing you home at this time.’

‘But why?’ She looked at him blankly. ‘This is an emergency. Where else would I be?’

Henry cleared his throat. ‘You see, there’s another factor. Giles Marrick died very suddenly, only a few days after you left for the Caribbean.’

‘Jago’s cousin?’ Ashley frowned. ‘I’m sorry. He was a kind man.’ She stopped abruptly. ‘Oh, I see—Jago came back for the funeral.’

‘And not just for the funeral,’ said Henry with a trace of heaviness. ‘Rumour has it that he intends to stay. He’s Giles Marrick’s heir, of course, so the Manor and the estate now belongs to him, although I believe the widow has some kind of life interest in it.’

‘Yes.’ She managed the monosyllable from a taut throat. ‘At least, until she remarries.’

‘Which probably won’t be long,’ Henry conceded. ‘Good-looking woman, and years younger than Marrick himself, of course.’

‘Years,’ Ashley agreed quietly. Although Jago had explained the position to her during their brief engagement, it had always cost her a pang to think that when he finally owned the beautiful Georgian house, Erica would still have the right to live there—Erica, with her sultry blonde good looks and malicious tongue.

Mentally, she gave herself a little impatient shake. The Manor was no longer any concern of hers. The loss of Landons was.

She said crisply, ‘Don’t look so concerned, Henry. I got over Jago a long time ago. Let’s get back to the main priority. How did you know Marshalls were sniffing round again?’

‘Movement of shares. And then Clive Farnsworth advised me privately that he was being pressed to sell his holding, and warned me that a majority of the board would be in favour of accepting Marshalls’ offer.’

‘It’s unbelievable!’ Ashley made a small sound of disgust. ‘Why, everyone knows what my father thought of them. He said they were sharks—jerrybuilders creating modern slums.’

‘He was right,’ Henry said bitterly. ‘Which is why they want Landons, of course, to confer a cloak of respectability on their operations. It’s the company name they want as well as its assets. But their real ace in the hole is their new managing director, a real dynamo by the sound of him. I gather he reminds some of the older board members of Silas when he was young. That’s the enticement—the kind of strong male leadership they’re used to.’

‘My God, what an attitude!’ Ashley expelled her breath in a small harsh sigh. ‘It belongs in the Ark.’

‘I can’t deny that, but we can’t dismiss it either.’ His gaze met hers squarely. ‘We have a real problem here, Ashley. The board aren’t just a set of dyed-in-the-wool male chauvinists. They’re anxious about our recent performance.’

He broke off as the door opened and Jean Hurst came in with a tray of coffee.

It was what she needed after all, Ashley discovered wryly, as she accepted a cup of the dark, fragrant brew, and sipped it gratefully.

When they were alone again, she said, ‘Was it deliberate? Did Marshalls wait for me to go to Barbados before they made their move?’

Henry looked slightly taken aback. ‘It’s possible. They must know that loyalty to Silas’ memory still exerts quite a hold.’

‘So—we fight.’ She lifted her chin. ‘What am I up against, if it came to a straight boardroom battle?’

‘I think you’d just lose,’ he admitted, and she winced.

‘I can’t bear it! To see everything Grandfather and Silas worked for just—handed over to a cowboy outfit like Marshalls. My God, I’d do anything—anything, to stop it happening.’

‘I hope you’re not contemplating a sex-change,’ Henry made a heavy-handed attempt at humour.

Ashley grimaced. ‘Coupled with an operation to make me ten years older? Don’t tell me that isn’t part of the problem.’

‘You’re just not what they’re used to,’ Henry said tiredly. ‘To most of their generation, women are wives or secretaries, cast in the mould from birth.’ He paused. ‘And I’m afraid many of them see your—repudiation of your engagement to Jago Marrick as a sign of—feminine instability. They worry that it might break out again some time.’

‘Oh, no,’ she said with soft bitterness. ‘My brush with Jago was a one-off thing—never, I pray, to be repeated.’ She put her cup down on the desk. ‘When I broke off my engagement, I don’t think Silas ever really understood, or forgave me. He thought the end justified the means, and that I was just making a silly fuss about some trivial disagreement. He didn’t know …’ She stopped.

‘Didn’t know what?’ Henry prompted sympathetically.

She was silent for a moment, then, ‘Didn’t know how totally unsuited Jago and I were,’ she said stiltedly. She smiled faintly as she got to her feet. ‘I’m going home now, Henry. I need to think. But thanks for the timely message. I’d have hated to have been voted out of existence in my absence.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ he said unhappily. ‘They’re pressing for an emergency board meeting next Thursday. Between now and then I’ll see what I can do in the way of persuasion or pressure to change a few minds to our way of thinking.’ He sighed. ‘But it’s going to be an uphill struggle.’

‘We’ll win,’ she said. ‘We have to.’

Her words evinced a confidence she didn’t feel. Her mood as she drove to her flat was one of dejection.

She’d never envisaged becoming chairman of Landons, but that didn’t mean she was prepared to see the company taken away from her.

Oh, Silas, she thought fiercely, why didn’t you prepare me better?

Perhaps he would have done, if he’d lived to the ripe old age his bounding energy had seemed to promise. If he hadn’t collapsed with a heart attack while exploring a possible site for development, and died in intensive care an hour later, before Ashley could even get to his bedside. Her first act on assuming control of the company had been to complete the deal for the land. Nothing spectacular, but surely a sign to the rest of the world that it was business as usual.

Her flat occupied the top floor of a purpose-built block, which Landons had erected some ten years previously, and was the nearest to a real home she had ever had.

Her mother had, unbelievably, died giving her birth, and Silas, dazed by grief, had instantly sold the house they had lived in together. Ashley’s earliest memories were of a changing landscape of hotel suites, and a shifting population of nannies. Silas travelled the country, and she, perforce, travelled with him until she was old enough to be despatched to boarding school.

She had understood quite early in their relationship that she seemed to make her father uncomfortable, and had assumed it was because of some painful physical resemblance to her mother. Gradually she came to realise that, whether he was aware of it or not, Silas resented the fact that his only child was not the boy he had planned on. Yet he had never made any attempt to alter the situation by marrying again, although he had enjoyed various discreet liaisons over the years, seeming perfectly content with his nomadic existence, the only awkwardness occurring when he was obliged to have Ashley with him.

She had spent many dull hours reading, watching television, wandering round strange towns, watching other people’s lives from a distance, until at last, when she was sixteen, she had rebelled, and insisted on accompanying him on to site. He had been openly reluctant at first, but when he saw she was adamant he had acceded, and slowly a new relationship had been forged between them. He had started by being sceptical about her interest, but he answered her questions with total frankness, and she had learned a great deal simply by being with him.

But he had been by no means preparing her to take over from him. His plans for her future had been very different, as she had suddenly, and painfully, discovered.

In her small elegant bathroom, she stripped and showered slowly, letting the water pour through her hair and down her body. She dried herself without haste, and wrapped in a fresh towel, sarong-style, wandered back to the bedroom and stretched out on her bed.

She felt infinitely weary, but sleep eluded her just the same. There was too much on her mind, she thought, punching the pillow. And if she was honest, the problem about the takeover wasn’t foremost in her thoughts as it should have been.

Jago, it seemed, was back, and possibly planning to stay. She had banked very heavily on never having to see him again, but if he was really going to be around as a permanent feature, she didn’t see how this could be avoided. It wasn’t that large a town. Nor could she leave. This was where Landons had its head office, so she couldn’t run, no matter how much she might want to.

Not that there was any logic in that, she castigated herself scornfully. There was no reason why she and Jago should not meet in a perfectly civilised manner. She’d got over that heartbreaking, desperate, adolescent love for him a long time ago. He couldn’t hurt her again, so what was she afraid of?

The million-dollar question, Ashley thought ironically.

She bit her lip savagely. As a future wife for a man like Jago Marrick, she’d been a disaster, but as Silas’ successor, she thought she had enjoyed a modest success. She had felt desperately isolated at first in her new eminence, but she had listened carefully, and made full use of all the experience and expertise which had been offered.

She sighed. Yet in spite of all her efforts, the board still didn’t trust her, or have any real confidence in her, and all her buried insecurities were burrowing to the surface, nagging and gnawing at her mind. She was not quite twenty-two, after all, and not very old to be doing battle for her share of the market place—a fact of which Marshalls were clearly well aware. Their board obviously regarded the present takeover attempt as no contest, and if she was honest, she could see little way of stopping them.

If it was any other company, she thought ruefully. But stories of Marshalls’ shoddy dealings and poor workmanship were rife in the industry, and they had already brought a libel action against a well-known satirical magazine which had lambasted them over a new shopping centre, threatened with structural collapse. They had won their case on a technicality, but with derisory damages.

Yet they were still wealthy enough, and endowed with sufficient clout to be bidding for Landons. They knew that their only chance of success was appealing to the inherent greed of human nature. And shareholders, in this respect, were just as human as anyone else.

The sudden trill of the phone beside the bed startled her, and she stared at it resentfully, wishing she’d had the foresight to disconnect it. She waited for the caller to get tired of waiting, and ring off, but it didn’t happen. Few people knew she was back, she thought, so perhaps it was Henry calling to apprise her of some new development. And it was clear he wasn’t giving up, so she lifted the receiver.

‘Hello,’ she said grudgingly.

‘So you are back.’ Jago’s voice, low, sardonic, and totally unmistakable. ‘I presumed old Henry would have pushed the panic button by now.’

‘I think you have the wrong number,’ she said wildly. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about …’

‘Yes, you do, Ash, so don’t play games. According to the hints and rumours in the financial columns, Landons have a serious problem. I think we should talk.’

‘Well, I don’t.’ In spite of herself, her voice sounded ragged, his deliberate diminution of her name rousing memories she would rather have denied. ‘I don’t need your help.’

‘I thought three years might have matured you, Ash,’ he jibed at her. ‘But it seems you’re still the same prickly schoolgirl, nursing your hurt pride. And for that, you’re prepared to see Landons go down the drain. You amaze me!’

‘That isn’t true,’ she said stiffly. ‘If you have any helpful suggestions, then you should get in touch with Henry. I’m sure he’d be glad to hear from you.’

‘Although you’re not.’ Jago gave a low laugh. ‘Well, I suppose that was too much to expect under the circumstances. But you will be hearing from me, Ash, and sooner than you think. I had the greatest admiration for Silas, and I’m not prepared to see his company go to the wall for the sake of past differences between the two of us.’

‘I like “past differences”,’ Ashley said contemptuously. ‘It’s a good blanket term to cover your mercenary agreement with my father, and your flagrant infidelity!’

‘Oh, it covers a damned sight more than that,’ he said pleasantly. ‘But I’m glad you approve. It’s a start anyway. I’ll be seeing you, then.’ The line disconnected briskly.

He had never, Ashley thought, as she replaced her own receiver, been one for prolonged farewells.

She sat up, nervously hitching up her towel, as though Jago was in the room with her, his tawny hazel eyes observing her state of disarray with that overt sensuality which had so disturbed her during their brief, ill-fated relationship.

He’d called her a prickly schoolgirl, and she supposed he had a certain amount of justification, remembering how she had nervously shied away from any physical advances he’d made to her. Not even the fact that she had fallen head over heels in love with him had been able to mitigate her panic-stricken recoil from any real intimacy between them during their engagement.

And if she had been frightened by the unknown passions she had sensed were tightly leashed in his lean male body, then she had been utterly terrified by the wild unbidden reaction of her own innocent flesh to his lightest touch. And there was no one to help her understand or cope with these new and overwhelming sensations. The sex education lessons at her school had described the mechanics, but said nothing about the emotions which should accompany such experiences, and Ashley’s housemistress had given muddled, embarrassed talks about the problems inherent in ‘leading men on’, quoting current rape statistics, and advising ‘keeping oneself decent for marriage’.

And Silas’ values, she had discovered when she had nerved herself to mention the topic to him, were equally rigid. Purity was what a man looked for in his future wife, he had told her flatly, and she could learn anything she needed to know from her husband when the time came.

When Jago held her close, she felt totally confused, her body at war with her mind, which insisted that such an intensity of emotion must be wrong, even in some way abnormal.

Eventually, it seemed easier to keep Jago at arms’ length. Or at any rate simpler, she amended hastily, because it had never been easy.

She had supposed naïvely that Silas was right, and that once they were married everything would be different. That wearing Jago’s ring, having the right to call herself his wife, would bring about some fundamental sea-change in her. Only she had never had the opportunity to find out.

The wedding had only been a few weeks away when she had finally found out the truth about the kind of man she was marrying. She hadn’t seen Jago for several days, not since they’d spent an evening at the theatre together. Afterwards, he had suggested she go back to his flat with him for a nightcap, and she had shrunk immediately. It was altogether too secluded and intimate an environment for her to cope with, feeling as she did, and she’d heard herself babbling some feeble excuse. That Jago had recognised it as such was evident, although he had said nothing. But his mouth had tightened, and he had driven her home with almost exaggerated care, depositing her on her doorstep with chilly courtesy, not even bothering to bestow the most chaste of goodnight kisses.

Ashley told herself he was being unreasonable, and that she wasn’t going to be the first to make amends, but as time passed without a word from him, her need for reassurance got the better of her pride, and she tried to telephone him. When there was no reply from the flat, she told herself he was probably staying at the Manor, as Giles liked him to do from time to time.

But when she drove out to the Manor that evening, she found only Erica Marrick at home. She was sitting in the big drawing room, stitching at a piece of tapestry set up in a frame in front of her, and Ashley, who had no skill at sewing, watched in fascination as the needle pierced the canvas over and over again.

Later, when Ashley allowed herself to recall that terrible evening and its aftermath, she was to remember above all that shining needle, stabbing in and out, and feel as if it was her own flesh that it was wounding.

‘I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted journey,’ Erica said, when the usual social pleasantries had been observed. ‘It might have been wiser to ring first, and check where he was.’

Ashley forbore to mention that she’d been trying to contact Jago for two days. She said, trying to sound casual, ‘I suppose you’ve no idea where he could be?’

Erica chose another strand of thread. ‘None at all, my dear. Giles is only Jago’s cousin, not his keeper. Jago’s an adult male. He comes and goes here as he chooses, and we don’t ask any indiscreet questions. Much the best way, I assure you.’ She threaded her needle. ‘Jago doesn’t actually live here yet.’

‘I know,’ Ashley said huskily. ‘But I thought—I got the impression he was spending more time here these days—using the flat rather less.’

‘I hardly think so.’ The needle stabbed again. ‘After all, it’s the one small piece of bachelor independence which hasn’t been eroded yet, and he’ll be anxious to hang on to that as long as possible, I would imagine. He’s sacrificed quite a lot already,’ she added almost casually. ‘I hope he finds Landons is worth it.’

Ashley’s brows drew together. ‘I don’t quite understand …’

‘How wise of you,’ purred Erica. ‘It’s always so much better to respect the conventions in these matters, and pretend the marriage has been arranged—such a telling phrase, I always think—for personal rather than business reasons.’

Ashley felt as if a hand was slowly tightening round her throat. ‘Are you insinuating that Jago is marrying me only to gain a stake in Landons?’

‘Hardly a stake, my dear.’ The deadly needle went in and out, doing its work. ‘After all, you’re an only child with neither the physical nor mental capacity to become a—a captain of industry. Your father, naturally, needs someone he can trust to run the company eventually, and who better than a son-in-law and as you were—gratifyingly ready to marry him, and Jago is extremely ambitious, everyone’s satisfied.’

There was a silence. Ashley said flatly, ‘I don’t believe you.’

Erica laughed. ‘Of course not. Why should you? And you have nothing to worry about. Jago will never forget that you’re Daddy’s daughter, and be less than attentive, but you must remember to allow him—a little leeway now, before the noose tightens for ever. So why don’t you go home like a good girl, and wait for him to call you. I’m sure he will, eventually. He tends to have a fairly strict sense of duty,’ she added blandly.

Some guardian angel must have protected Ashley on that nightmare drive to his flat, because she remembered nothing about it.

All the way there, a voice in her head was whispering, ‘It can’t be true—can’t be true …’

And yet suspicion, once planted, was growing like a weed in the sun, sending out deadly tentacles to smother and choke. She had to see Jago, to confront him, and find out once and for all the real truth behind their marriage.

Because, she had to admit, the romance had been a whirlwind affair. She hadn’t seen a great deal of Jago while she was growing up, but after Silas had decided to seek a permanent home base near the company headquarters, they had begun to come into contact with each other.

At first, she had been full of shy admiration, gauche and tongue-tied whenever he was around. As he shared her father’s professional interests, it was inevitable that they should meet. Sometimes he was kind to her, at others, he teased her unmercifully. Gradually, almost in spite of herself, her admiration turned to a kind of hero-worship, and then, bewilderingly, to something much deeper.

Ashley had found she was aching for a glimpse of him, and agonising when this was denied her. She was ecstatic when he noticed her—once he gave her a lift home from the library, and she lived on it for weeks—and miserable when the passenger seat in his car was filled by one of the leggy blondes he seemed to favour. Not that he was always at home by any means. A lot of the time he was away, pursuing his career, immersed in one of the civil engineering projects for which he had trained at university.

‘He’s going straight to the top, that lad,’ Silas had remarked more than once with unveiled satisfaction.

But Jago’s ambitions and professional abilities counted for little with Ashley. For her, he was the focus of all her romantic dreams, and when, right out of the blue, he had rung and invited her to have dinner with him, she had thought she would die of delight.

But she had lived, and it was the start of an idyllic period in her life. Jago dined her, and danced with her, partnering her at tennis, taking her on picnics, and visits to the theatre and cinema.

And when, after six heady weeks, he had asked her to marry him, she had said ‘Yes’ eagerly, with no thought of dissimulation. ‘Gratifyingly ready,’ Erica had said mockingly, she recalled with a shiver of nausea. But it was no more than the truth. She’d been foolishly, blindly ready to allow herself to be handed over in exchange for the Landon empire.

As she drove, a lot of pieces seemed to be coming together in an increasingly terrifying pattern. She remembered the impatience in him, coiled like a spring, when she had drawn back from the growingly explicit demands of his mouth and hands, so different from the gentle restraint he had displayed during the early days of their courtship.

Before he was sure of her, said a small icy voice in her brain.

If he’d really cared for her, wouldn’t he have been prepared to make allowances for her inexperience? she asked herself.

And more troubling still, he had never actually said in so many words that he loved her. He wanted to make love to her, in any way she would permit, but all he had said when she agreed to be his wife, was, ‘Darling Ash, I’ll try and make you happy.’

She’d been more than content with that at the time, but now it seemed a disturbing omission.

At first when she rang the doorbell at his flat, she thought he was still out somewhere, and she was just about to turn away in defeat when she heard the sound of movement inside.

The door opened, and they faced each other. He looked terrible, was her first thought. He was pale, and his eyes were bloodshot, and he seemed to be wearing a dressing gown, and nothing else.

She said anxiously, ‘Jago, are you ill?’ She took a step forward, to be arrested by the sour reek of spirits on his breath. It was something she hadn’t encountered before with him, and it alarmed her.

In his turn, he was staring at her as if he didn’t know who she was, and then she saw a dawning horror in his eyes.

And in the same instant heard a girl’s voice saying with plaintive impatience, ‘Sweetie, aren’t you ever coming back to bed? Get rid of whoever it is and …’ She appeared from the bedroom, wearing nothing but the coverlet from the bed draped round her, none too effectively.

The hand was round Ashley’s throat again, tightening, squeezing …

The girl came forward to Jago’s side. Her eyes, blue and hard as nails, flicked over Ashley dismissively.

‘They say three’s a crowd, don’t they, darling? Or is that the way you like it?’

Jago slumped against the door jamb with a muffled groan.

Ashley wanted to stamp her feet. She wanted to kick, to lash out with her hands, and tear with her nails, and scream. She wanted to damage them, both of them, physically. Mark them as they had smashed her emotionally.

Nausea rose, hot and acrid, in her throat, and she turned and ran down the stairs, not waiting for the lift, and out into the chill of the night air. She leaned against her car, retching miserably, uncaring who might see her or what conclusions they might draw. Then, as soon as she was sufficiently in control of herself, she climbed into the driving seat, and started the engine. She didn’t go home. She drove out of town, and down to the river, parking in the very spot where Jago had proposed to her, sitting white-faced and burning-eyed until dawn.

When she finally returned home, she brushed aside her father’s reproaches and anxious queries, saying merely that she’d had some thinking to do, and needed to be alone. When she’d added that she was no longer going to marry Jago she and Silas had the worst row of their lives.

‘But you can’t throw him over for some whim!’ he’d raged at her. ‘My God, girl, only last week you thought the sun, moon, and stars all shone out of him! And I need him. I need a strong man to run Landons after I’m gone. As your husband he can become chairman after me. As soon as I met him, I knew he was the right man.’

‘Right for me?’ she wanted to ask, wincing. ‘Or merely right for Landons?’ But she’d never voiced the query.

Her magnificent solitaire diamond ring she’d sent back to Jago by company messenger, with a note stating bleakly that she never wanted to see him or hear from him again.

And nor had she, Ashley thought wearily, until now. Until that phone call, like a bolt from the blue.

Not only was her company at risk. With Jago’s return, her precarious peace of mind was threatened. And that, frighteningly, seemed a great deal worse.

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER a while, when she felt a little calmer, she lifted the telephone and dialled.

‘Martin Witham, please,’ she told the receptionist who answered. ‘Tell him Miss Landon is calling.’

She was put through with flattering promptness.

‘Ashley!’ Martin sounded pleased and surprised. ‘Why on earth are you back so soon?’

‘Clearly, you haven’t been reading the financial pages,’ she said lightly. ‘Let’s just say a state of emergency’s been declared and it seemed better to return.’

‘My poor sweet!’ His voice was warm and concerned. ‘Want to tell me all about it over dinner at the Country Club tonight?’

She laughed. ‘That’s exactly what I hoped you’d say,’ she teased. ‘Pick me up at eight?’

‘I’ll be counting the minutes,’ he promised.

She felt better after that. His voice had reassured her, helping to take away the sour taste the earlier call had left.

She’d been seeing Martin for a couple of months, since he’d arrived from London to join a local firm of solicitors. After Jago, Ashley had tended to steer clear of any kind of involvement, but Martin had persuaded her to think again, although he had made it clear from the first that he was in no hurry to rush into any kind of serious relationship. He’d been divorced, he told her, and was still licking his wounds, but he would be glad of some female companionship.

It was an arrangement which suited them both very well. Since Silas’ death, Ashley had been lonelier than she cared to remember, and Martin’s friendship had buoyed her up, just when she needed it most.

And she needed him now, she thought ruefully.

Martin had not told her very much about his marriage, and she was equally reticent on the subject of her broken engagement. Now, she supposed, she would have to tell Martin that her ex-fiancé was back in town, throwing fresh attention on an episode she had hoped was behind her for ever.

She felt depression closing in on her like a cloud, and gave herself a swift mental shake. Sleep was what she needed, and food. She made herself an omelette in her compact kitchen, eating every scrap, then curled up on the living room sofa, emptying her mind, and relaxing her muscles until her intrinsic weariness had its way with her.

When she woke, she felt perceptibly better, refreshed and even relaxed. Which seemed, she thought, to bode well for the evening ahead. She applied her usual light make-up, sprayed herself lavishly with Amazone, then zipped herself into a new dress she’d bought on impulse during her West Indian holiday. It was the colour which had attracted her originally—a clear, vivid emerald, enhancing her eyes.

Her one beauty, she thought critically, as she turned and twisted in front of the mirror, trying to decide whether the dress was too extreme for the sedate delights of the County Club. Certainly, the crossover bodice plunged lower than anything she had worn before, and the back of the dress bared her from the brief halter round her neck almost to the base of her spine. For a moment, she was tempted to change into something more demure, something that reflected the muted businesslike image she tried to project these days. Then she tossed her head, making her glossy hair swing challengingly.

To hell with it, she thought recklessly. Since the night of Jago’s betrayal, she’d lived a kind of half-life. Perhaps it was only right that his return should signal her emergence from her self-imposed chrysalis—proclaiming to the world at large, as well as himself, that she no longer carried even the flicker of a torch for him.

She’d been a fool to react like that to his call, she told herself angrily. She should have been civil but indifferent, instead of letting him know he could still get under her skin. Well, she would know better at their next encounter—if there was one.

Martin’s expression when she admitted him to the flat was evidence, if she needed it, that her change of image was a success. And it reminded her too of how little thought she’d given to her appearance over the past couple of years.

‘The new me,’ she explained. ‘Do you approve?’

‘I’m not sure if “approve” is the word I’m looking for,’ Martin said carefully. ‘May I kiss you, or will it spoil your make-up?’

Ashley went readily into his arms. She was accustomed to the light embraces they exchanged on meeting and parting, and when Martin deliberately prolonged and deepened the kiss, she made no demur. Perhaps it wasn’t just the outer shell she needed to change, she thought, submitting passively to the ardent pressure of his mouth on hers.

She waited for some answering surge in her own blood, but it didn’t happen. Probably she was still too tired and caught off-balance by the past twenty-four hours to be able to conjure up much of a response, she excused herself, as they left for the Club.

It was already quite crowded when they arrived. Martin had booked a corner table, away from the dance floor where a three-piece band played quietly.

‘The usual wide choice, I see,’ he said wryly, handing her a menu. ‘Steak, steak, scampi or steak.’

Ashley smiled at him. ‘And I keep telling you that’s the height of sophistication in this neck of the woods,’ she teased.

‘So you do,’ he muttered. ‘What’s it to be, then?’

‘Melon, please, followed by a fillet steak rare to medium, and a side salad.’

‘And I’ll have the same,’ Martin told the waiter. His hand reached for Ashley’s across the table. ‘We never seem to ask for anything else. Maybe we should make it a standing order.’

‘Maybe,’ Ashley returned neutrally. She returned the pressure of his fingers, but his words troubled her, seeming to signal a permanence she wasn’t ready for. She was relieved when the conversation took a less personal turn. Martin was engaged in litigation work, and he gave a droll description of some of the cases he’d been defending while she way away.

Ashley leaned back in her chair, enjoying the fragrance of the white wine she had asked for as an aperitif, her eyes idly scanning the room as she did so.

‘And when the magistrate asked if he had anything to say, the idiot came back with “But the car always stalls if I drive at less than sixty, Your Worship”,’ Martin was saying, then his voice sharpened. ‘Ashley, what is it? Are you all right?’

Her whole body had tensed, and she could feel the blood draining from her face. Standing in the doorway, looking round the room, was Jago Marrick.

Her first, instinctive thought was how little he had changed in the intervening years. The breach between them had left no mark on him as it had on her, but then why should it? she asked herself bitterly. No doubt he’d regretted the loss of Landons, but he was a success in his own right as Silas had always predicted. Ashley had been nothing more to him than a means to an end.

But it was unfair, she thought, digging her nails into the palms of her hands, that his physical appeal should not have diminished. Outwardly, he was still the man she’d fallen so helplessly in love with.

The lean, graceful body, the lightly curling brown hair, still worn rather longer than convention demanded, the cool, incisive lines of nose, mouth and jaw, had lost none of their impact, thrusting her into sudden unwelcome turmoil.

With a superlative effort she fought for control.

‘It’s all right,’ she said, forcing a little laugh, and inwardly thankful for the comparative seclusion of their table. ‘I—I’m jet-lagged still, I suppose. Perhaps I should have had a quiet evening at home.’

‘Well, you still can,’ Martin assured her promptly. ‘When we’ve eaten, I’ll drive you back.’ He smiled at her. ‘Some cosseting’s what you need.’

She doubted whether she needed anything he had in mind but now was not the time to be talking about that. She felt suddenly like an animal, caught in a snare with the hunter drawing closer …

Get a grip on yourself, she adjured herself, silently and savagely. So he’s here. It’s a public place, and he has as much right to use it as you. But there’s nothing he can do to you any more—nothing …

Martin said with a faint groan, ‘Oh, hell! One of the firm’s most important clients has just come in, and he’s heading this way. I shall have to be civil at least.’

Ashley knew with a sense of sick inevitability who it would be, and nerved herself, her hands clenching into fists in her lap, her face schooled to impassivity.

‘Good evening, Witham.’ Jago stopped beside their table. She made herself look up, her face stretched into a polite smile which felt like a grimace. He wasn’t alone, she saw. Erica was beside him, ethereal in black chiffon, clinging to his arm. The grieving widow’s first public appearance, Ashley decided ironically.

Jago was looking at her now, his brows lifting with faint cynicism as he assimilated her appearance.

‘Ashley,’ he said softly. ‘What a charming surprise.’

‘You know each other?’ asked Martin. ‘I was just about to introduce you.’

‘No need,’ Jago assured him. ‘Ashley and I are old—acquaintances, aren’t we, darling?’

‘You could say that,’ she said shortly. She looked past him to Erica. ‘Please accept my condolences on your sad loss, Mrs Marrick.’

‘Such a terrible shock,’ Erica sighed delicately. ‘But life must go on. That’s what dear Giles would have wanted.’

Remembering the big, bluff man with his booming laugh, Ashley thought this was probably true. At any rate, it absolved Erica from most of the conventions of mourning, she decided cynically.

‘Won’t you join us?’ Martin offered, to Ashley’s horror.

‘We’d be delighted,’ Jago said smoothly, and she had to bite back a gasp of sheer anguish. But nothing could be done; a waiter was already hurrying to lay two extra covers. Ashley’s sole consolation was that Erica seemed no better pleased by the situation than she was herself, judging by the expression she had seen fleetingly cross the widow’s lovely face, and the way her fingers were curving possessively on Jago’s sleeve.

Well, everyone looks for consolation in their own way, she told herself, and turned an artificially radiant smile on Martin.

The meal was a three-dimensional, Technicolored nightmare, with full stereophonic sound. The steaks, when they arrived, were excellent, but Ashley might just as well have been chewing her way through an old handbag for all the enjoyment she derived from hers. Tautly, she declined a dessert when it was offered, and coffee too, praying that Martin would take the hint, and whisk her away as he’d promised.

But Martin wasn’t in the market for hints. Oblivious to any undercurrents, he was leaning back in his chair, being expansive and thoroughly enjoying himself. Taking the opportunity to impress an important client, Ashley thought, then chided herself for being unkind.

She glanced up, and found Jago’s eyes on her. He, she realised resentfully, wasn’t even making an attempt at pretence. Openly and unashamedly, he was staring at her, insolently studying the shape of her breasts under the flimsy bodice, and to her shame and horror she found her body reacting to the calculation of his gaze, the nipples hardening and thrusting against the soft cling of the fabric. And, worst of all, she could tell by the slow smile curling his firm-lipped mouth that her involuntary arousal had not gone unnoticed.

Mortified beyond all bearing, she stared down at the table. What kind of person was she to allow herself to be excited by a look from a man who had treated her as badly as Jago had done? She swallowed, remembering that he had always had that effect on her, no matter how hard she’d tried to resist it. Even in company, one lingering glance from him had been enough to melt her bones, and send sweet fire coursing through her veins. It was only later, alone with him, that the problems had started, shame at her body’s own urgency freezing her into frightened rigidity when he tried to kiss and caress her.

But that was something she neither needed nor wanted to remember, and she tried to turn her attention elsewhere, gazing at the couples moving round the dance floor in time to the music.

Jago leaned towards her. ‘Would you like to dance?’ he asked courteously.

Her voice was stony. ‘No, thank you.’

‘Oh, go on, darling,’ Martin urged jovially. ‘You know you love this tune.’

Had she really admitted that to him? she asked herself despairingly. How could she—when it was a song she’d danced to with Jago over and over again in those first heady days?

‘Then that settles it.’ Jago was standing beside her chair, reaching for her hand, drawing her inexorably to her feet before she could utter any further protest.

She couldn’t free herself without making some kind of scene, and her spirit quailed at the thought of that, so numbly she allowed him to guide her through the encircling tables to the dance floor.

‘I’ll try not to touch any bare skin,’ he said sardonically, as he drew her into his arms. ‘But the design of your dress makes it rather difficult.’

She flushed angrily. ‘Don’t!’

‘Why so sensitive?’ he jeered. ‘You can’t help being the way you are, any more than I can. And you certainly never wanted to be touched—by me, at any rate.’

Ashley shrugged, trying not to flinch from the clasp of his cool fingers, making herself move to the music with him. ‘Why drag up the past?’ she asked shortly. ‘It was a long time ago. I’ve changed. Probably we both have.’

‘In your case, the change is formidable,’ he said softly. ‘What’s brought about this new sophistication? Witham?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Ashley, lifting her chin. ‘If it’s any of your business.’

The tawny eyes glittered down at her. ‘Going to marry him, Ash?’

‘Now that really is none of your business.’ Ashley bit her lip. ‘I’d like to go back to the table, please.’

‘When the dance is over.’ He swung her round, gently but inexorably, making her realise it was impossible to be free without undignified hassle. ‘And isn’t it natural that I should be interested in your plans for the future? After all, they once involved me quite intimately, if you recall.’

‘I’m not likely to forget,’ she said scornfully. ‘I’d have said you’d totally forfeited any right to enquire into my private life. And while we’re on the subject, how did you get hold of my phone number? I’m ex-directory.’

‘Let’s say a little bird told me,’ he said. ‘You seem rather besieged at the moment. I thought you might welcome a friendly call.’

‘Then you miscalculated,’ Ashley said bitingly. ‘I don’t need your interest in my affairs, business or personal. In future, kindly leave me alone.’

Jago gave her a meditative look, his eyes hooded. ‘That isn’t as easy as it sounds. I’d say we were bound to run into each other in a place this size. Don’t you think we should at least practise being civil to each other?’

Ashley tried to quell the inner dismay his words evoked. He seemed to be confirming that he would not, after all, be returning to the States, just as Henry had suggested.

‘It’s a small town indeed,’ she said.’ And rather limiting, I’d have thought, for someone of your ambition. I imagine you can’t wait to go back to America.’

‘Then your imagination is playing you tricks,’ he said pleasantly. ‘I’ll be happy to discuss my plans with you, Ashley, but now is not the time. I didn’t ask you to dance in order to have a serious talk.’

‘No? Then I can only assume you intended to annoy me.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Jago. The most I can call on where you’re concerned is indifference. If anyone’s suffering from any kind of aggravation here tonight, then it’s probably your cousin Erica.’

‘Oh, I think Witham is managing to keep her entertained,’ he said casually. ‘Although he’s a bit of a dull stick.’

‘He’s a decent person,’ Ashley said levelly. ‘Although I suppose decency is a quality that couldn’t be expected to have much appeal for you.’

‘Or to you, my sweet vixen.’ His mouth curled. ‘But I asked you to dance, Ashley, to find out if the change in you is any more than skin deep.’ His hand at her back increased its pressure suddenly, forcing her towards him across the slight decorous distance that separated them. Bringing her body into intimate, objectionable contact with his.

Ashley gasped, her eyes flashing green fire at him, as she tried unavailingly to pull away. Her lips parted in a protest which was fated never to be uttered as Jago’s mouth came down on hers, warm, firm, and shamelessly sensual.

Her senses reeled under the suddenness of the onslaught. Her body seemed to be melting, her legs no longer able to support her properly, the blood in her veins moving slowly, thick and sweet as honey, as she fought for control.

The kiss seemed endless and she had to curb the instinct to yield, to respond, to explore his mouth as avidly as he was seeking the secrets of hers. It was a temptation that had to be resisted at all costs, and she knew it, even though her body was overwhelmed, trembling with the surge of unsatisfied longing within her.

But she had to remember that he cared no more for her now than he had three years ago, a small desperate voice in her head warned her. He was trying to score points, that was all. To let the eyes watching them know that the breach between them, once a nine-day wonder, was either healed or no longer important.

When at last he took his mouth from hers, it was with open reluctance. The music had stopped, and only a smattering of applause from the other dancers filled the amazed and questioning silence around them.

Still dazed, Ashley let Jago lead her back to the table, aware of the barrage of fascinated and curious looks and murmured remarks following them. She was aware too that the couple awaiting them at their table didn’t share that general fascination and curiosity. Martin looked bemused and sullen, and Erica was plainly furious, although she was smiling graciously enough.

Muttering an excuse, Ashley grabbed her bag, and made her way to the refuge of the powder room. Luckily it was deserted, and she sank down on one of the padded stools in front of the mirror and stared at herself. Her eyes looked twice their normal size, and she hadn’t a scrap of colour left. She touched the bare, swollen outline of her mouth with fingers that shook slightly.

Jago had made no concessions at all, either to the passage of time which had separated them, or to the fact they were in a public place. His behaviour, by any standard, was unforgivable. She opened her bag, fumbling a little as she retrieved her compact and lipstick and tried to repair some of the damage he had wrought, while shame and anger built up inside her.

How dare he behave like that! she raged inwardly. His arrogance was appalling. But so, honesty reminded her, had been her own reaction.

She couldn’t go back in the dining room, she thought restlessly, to face the stares and speculation, and Jago’s silent triumph. She would have to get a message to Martin, telling him she had a headache and wanted to go home.

But when she emerged, she found Martin waiting for her.

She pinned on a smile. ‘Ready to go?’

‘More than ready.’ His voice was pettish, and she smothered a sigh. His hand gripped her elbow almost painfully as they walked to the car park, but he said nothing more until they were in the car, and on their way.

Then, ‘What was that all about?’ he wanted to know restively.

‘Do we have to discuss it now?’ Ashley stared in front of her.

‘I’d say so. I don’t appreciate being made to look a fool in public.’

‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t think that was the main intention.’ Ashley bit her lip. ‘Jago was trying to—prove a point, and he chose a rather drastic way of doing it, that’s all.’

‘Old acquaintances, he said.’ Martin’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘It seemed more than that to me.’

His tone demanded an explanation. Ashley hesitated for a moment, then said reluctantly, ‘As it happens, Jago Marrick was the man I was engaged to a couple of years ago.’

‘Good God!’ Martin, always the most careful of drivers, actually took her eyes off the road to gaze at her while he assimilated the information. ‘I hadn’t the slightest idea …’

Ashley sighed. ‘I thought someone would probably have mentioned it.’

‘I suppose everyone assumed you would have told me yourself.’ Martin sounded injured. ‘Didn’t you think I’d want to know you’d been—involved with one of our top clients?’

Ashley looked down at her interlaced fingers. ‘Frankly it was a period of my life I preferred to put out of my mind altogether. Jago was in America, and Giles Marrick could have lived for another thirty years, as far as I knew.’ She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘But what does it matter, anyway? It’s over, and has been for a long time.’

After a long pause, Martin said carefully, ‘A casual observer tonight might query that.’

Ashley forced a smile. ‘I think tonight was a cross between Jago’s idea of a joke, and his wish to tell the world there’s no longer any bad feeling between us.’

‘And is that the case?’

She bent her head in affirmation, trying to push out of her mind the memory of that cynically passionate kiss, and her unsought reaction to it.

He said judiciously, ‘Well, it’s never easy to get over these things, as I know to my cost. Were you very much in love with him, darling?’

‘I’m not sure I even knew what love was,’ Ashley said tonelessly.

He seemed content with that, and to her relief, didn’t insist on accompanying her into the flat as she had half-feared. He accepted her excuse that she was still dog-tired after her flight, and went off, promising tenderly to phone her the next day.

Ashley fell into bed like an automaton, but still she couldn’t sleep. She lay for what seemed like hours, staring into the darkness. Didn’t she have enough problems? Jago’s re-entry into her life was a complication she didn’t need.

Or perhaps the trouble she felt brewing through him was simply a figment of her overcharged imagination. He had his own life and responsibilities now, with Erica not the least of them, judging by tonight’s showing. He wouldn’t have time, let alone the inclination to bait his ex-fiancée.

Surely their lives could run on parallel lines, never crossing the path of each other. And on this comforting reflection, she finally dozed off.

She was woken the next morning by the prolonged ringing of her doorbell. Groggily, she pushed back the covers and grabbed for her robe, trying through the clouds of sleep to remember if the milkman needed paying.

As she opened the door, she stiffened, her whole body taut with outrage as she recognised her visitor.

‘You again!’ she exclaimed furiously, and tried to slam the door in his face, but Jago was too quick for her. His arm clamped round her waist, lifting her totally off her feet as he stepped into the narrow hall. As he set her down again, the door was already closed behind him.

Ashley gritted between her teeth, ‘There’s really no end to your presumption! May I know how you discovered my address—or have I the same little bird to thank?’

Jago tutted. ‘You sound very crotchety, my sweet. I don’t think late nights agree with you. Are you alone, or should I lurk discreetly in the sitting room while Witham makes his escape?’

‘If there’s any vanishing to be done, you’ll do it,’ she said tersely. ‘Get out!’

‘When I’ve said what I came to say.’ The hazel eyes looked her over mockingly. ‘Or did you think last night was all there was to it?’

‘It seemed more than enough for me,’ Ashley snapped. She caught sight of the long case clock in the corner. ‘My God,’ she said falteringly, ‘it isn’t even eight o’clock yet! What the hell …’

Jago produced a carrier bag, ‘I thought we’d have a working breakfast,’ he said briskly.

‘You thought what?’ Words failed her.

‘A working breakfast,’ he repeated kindly. ‘They have a lot of them in the States. I’m supplying the food.’

‘Well, don’t expect me to cook it. I never eat breakfast anyway.’

‘Then you should.’ He gave her another more searching look, and her hands moved instinctively to tighten the already secure sash of her robe. ‘It occurred to me last night, you can’t afford to lose any more weight. Will you show me where the kitchen is, or shall I find it by trial and error?’

‘You’ll get out of here now!’ Ashley raged. ‘And take your lousy food with you!’

‘Your ways of expressing yourself don’t seem to have improved over the years,’ Jago said coolly. ‘The food is fresh—grapefruit, eggs and bacon, and bread for toast. You don’t have to lift a finger. Just eat—and listen to what I have to say.’

‘There’s nothing you have to talk about that I want to hear.’ Eyes sparkling ominously, she faced him, her head held proudly high.

‘Not even when the subject under discussion is Landons—and its questionable future?’ he asked.

‘There is no question about Landons’ future,’ Ashley denied sharply.

‘Now there we differ,’ he said quite gently. ‘I’d say that without some pretty fancy footwork on your part, Marshalls are going to snap you up, and cheap at the price. Is that what you want?’

‘Of course not,’ she said impatiently. ‘But it’s no concern of yours.’

‘It’s my concern.’ There was no amusement in his face. The hazel eyes were cold and inimical as they rested on her. ‘Silas was my good friend, remember?’

‘I’m hardly likely to forget. I’ve often thought it a pity you couldn’t marry him yourself.’

‘And I’ve often thought it a pity you weren’t smacked, as a child, until you couldn’t sit down for a week,’ Jago said bitingly. ‘Now go and get dressed, unless you want to spend the morning in that travesty of a dressing gown. I’ll call you when the food’s ready.’

She said shakily, ‘If I were a man, I’d throw you out.’

‘Don’t be silly, Ash.’ He tapped her hot cheek lightly with his forefinger. ‘If you were a man, I wouldn’t be here, period.’

She wanted to tell him not to call her ‘Ash’, but it suddenly seemed infinitely safer to go to her room, and put some clothes on as he’d suggested.

She dragged on jeans, not new, and a sweater which had seen better days, dragging a comb ruthlessly through her black hair. Cosmetics she left severely alone. Jago was not to think she had taken any trouble with her appearance on his account, she told herself vehemently.

The kitchen was full of the scent and crackle of frying bacon and percolating coffee, and in spite of her anger, Ashley’s nose twitched in appreciation as she entered. Jago was standing by the hob, slicing tomatoes. He too was wearing jeans, she noticed, the close-fitting denim accentuating the length of his legs and the leanness of his hips. The cuffs of his shirt were unbuttoned and turned casually back revealing tanned forearms. He made her trim kitchen seem cramped, Ashley thought resentfully as she unwillingly took a seat at the small breakfast bar.

‘Here.’ He poured coffee into a mug and pushed it across the worktop to her.

‘Thank you,’ she acknowledged stiffly.

‘And three bags full to you.’ He gave her a long look. ‘Unless you relax your attitude, lady, and fast, we’re going to get nowhere.’

‘Well, that suits me down to the ground,’ said Ashley coldly. ‘As I haven’t the slightest wish to make any kind of progress with you.’

‘So, hurt pride and resentment still rule, O.K. You aren’t prepared to swallow either or both for the sake of Landons?’

‘I’d give whatever I had to in order to save the company,’ Ashley retorted. ‘I’ve already given the last couple of years of my life. Apparently for some of the board, this isn’t enough. I don’t know what more they want—blood, presumably.’

‘No,’ he said, ‘I think they want the assurance that Landons will continue to be the dynamic, thrusting concern that Silas made it.’

‘You seem very well informed,’ said Ashley coldly, gritting her teeth, as she complied with his signal to start on her grapefruit. ‘Perhaps you’re also aware that Landons had a record profit last year.’

‘That’s true,’ he admitted. ‘But accrued from the projects that Silas set up. You’ve kept the company ticking over, and you’ve delivered the goods, as no one could wish to deny. But your forward planning is lousy. There’ve been a number of tenders you should have gone for—and got—but haven’t. Silas went out and sold Landons in the market place. He was the arch-instigator of all time. Those new civic buildings in town were a case in point. The council never thought on that scale until Silas sold them the idea. Now no one can imagine how they ever did without them. And you can repeat that story over and over again up and down the length of the country.’

‘We have plenty of work,’ Ashley protested indignantly.

‘For the time being—but how much of it is new? How many of your present contracts have you fought for and won?’ He shook his head. ‘This is what concerns the majority of the board, Ashley, and in their place, I’d probably share that concern.’

Ashley bit her lip, looking with disfavour at the plate he was setting in front of her. ‘I can’t possibly eat all that,’ she protested.

‘You’ll eat it if I have to hold your nose and force-feed you,’ Jago told her forthrightly. ‘You’re going to need all your strength, lady, and besides, we have other more important issues to argue about than food.’ He took his place beside her and began to eat with relish as she registered with annoyance. His presence in her flat, his intrusion into her life was an outrage, but he seemed unconscious of the fact.

‘So why are you interfering?’ she asked sulkily, cutting into her bacon, and noting crossly that it was done to a crisp, just as she liked it. ‘I suppose you’ve come here to give me some good advice. Well, let me tell you, I don’t need …’

‘Mere advice won’t get you out of the hole you’re in.’ He reached for a piece of toast. ‘I think the situation calls for rather more drastic action.’

‘And you, of course, know exactly how to cope with the crisis,’ she said derisively.

‘I could get rid of Marshalls for starters.’ Jago bit into his toast.

‘How?’ His confidence needled her.

He sighed. ‘By persuading the board to reject their offer.’

Ashley put down her knife and fork. ‘But why should they do any such thing, particularly on your say-so?’ she demanded heatedly. ‘My God, you’re not even a member of the Landons board!’

‘But I could be.’ The hazel eyes looked coolly and directly into hers. ‘In fact I could be chairman—if you and I were married.’

CHAPTER THREE

IN a voice she hardly recognised as her own, Ashley gasped ‘That—has to be the most insane idea I’ve ever heard!’

‘On the contrary, it makes a lot of sense.’ He even had the gall to go on eating, she realised dazedly. ‘Think about it, and try using your head, instead of your hormones. It was what Silas always intended, after all.’

‘I’m only too well aware of that,’ she said rigidly. ‘It was a very nice, businesslike arrangement for you both, until you allowed your other—proclivities to get in the way.’

‘Ah,’ Jago said softly, ‘I thought we wouldn’t get far before that thorny subject was dragged kicking and screaming into the light of day. You never gave me a chance to explain at the time. Perhaps now you might allow me a few words.’

‘The fewer the better.’ Suddenly she was hurting again, every image from that terrible night etched on to her memory in agonising detail. ‘Although I fail to see what possible explanation you can come up with for your conduct.’ She paused theatrically. ‘Ah, I know. The lady was your long-lost sister—or your maiden aunt twice removed seeking shelter for the night. Is that how it was?’

‘No,’ he said, his mouth curling. ‘The situation was exactly as you read it. And before you ask—no, she wasn’t an old flame, either. I’d picked her up in a bar earlier in the evening. Satisfied?’

‘Please spare me the sordid details,’ Ashley said scornfully. ‘I don’t want to hear them.’

‘What did you want to hear, I wonder?’ he asked cynically. ‘Some cosy lie, designed to make you feel better, and whitewash the whole incident? Not a chance. I offered an explanation for what it’s worth, but no excuses.’

‘There is no possible excuse for what you did,’ she said bitterly. ‘And you have no right to walk back into my life, and—proposition me in this insulting way.’

‘The word is proposal,’ Jago interrupted sardonically. ‘A proposition has a totally different connotation, although you wouldn’t know anything about that, my little Puritan. You froze me off so many times during our brief but eventful engagement that it was a miracle I didn’t die from frostbite.’

‘Oh, I see,’ exclaimed Ashley, heavily sarcastic. ‘Then it’s all my fault. I should have allowed you to seduce me when you wanted to—and then this little local difficulty would never have happened.’

Jago pushed his plate away. ‘Seduction,’ he said levelly, ‘was never what I had in mind. All I wanted from you, Ash, was a little human warmth—a sign, however fleeting, that when we were married, you’d welcome my arms round you—enjoy going to bed with me. All I got was one terrified hysterical rebuff after another. Is it any real wonder that my courage failed at the prospect of a bride who turned to stone every time I came near her?’

‘And human warmth was presumably what the lady in the bar had to offer,’ said Ashley, her heart beating harshly and discordantly.

His smile was twisted. ‘No, it was slightly more than that. In fact, she made it quite clear that she fancied me rotten, and that was balm to my soul after having you fight me off night after night as if I was the Mad Rapist. I don’t go in for one-night stands as a rule, but she caught me at a weak moment, and I was more than ready to enjoy what she was offering.’ He paused. ‘Now you know everything.’

‘What a pity all I had to offer was Landons.’ Ashley drank some coffee. ‘And what a pity you wanted not just the cake, but the icing too. Getting control of the company eventually wasn’t enough for you—you wanted passion as well. It never occurred to you that I might not feel particularly passionate towards a man who was using me only as a stepping stone to being chairman of the board.’

There was a silence. He said at last, ‘Frankly, no, it never occurred to me.’

‘You were clearly too used to finding your attractions irresistible,’ she said savagely. ‘And I was young and naïve, and easily conned, or so you thought. But I soon realised what the score was.’

‘My congratulations on your perspicacity,’ he said ironically. ‘But if you expect me to bow my head and creep away in shame, you can think again. It alters nothing as far as I’m concerned. In fact, it almost makes things easier. You came to terms once with being married for Landons. Why not again? After all, you said only five minutes ago you’d give all you had to save Landons. Well, all I’m asking is our joint names on a marriage certificate—nothing more.’

Ashley laughed. ‘You expect me to believe that?’

‘Believe what you please,’ he said curtly. ‘But my little experiment at the Country Club last night told me loud and clear that nothing’s changed between us, that you wouldn’t countenance me as a lover at any price. Well, I can accept that. Three years ago I tried to woo you into becoming my wife in the fullest sense of the word, and failed. So at least now we know where we stand. And didn’t Silas always say his motto was “The end justifies the means”?’

‘Yes,’ she said huskily. ‘He always used to say that. But I don’t believe that any result could justify what you’re proposing. Why are you doing this?’

‘I’ve told you—I liked Silas, and I respected him and everything he was trying to do. If you hadn’t turned up at the flat that night, we’d have got married and struggled along somehow for the sake of Landons. In fact, if I’d been around to take some of the pressure off him, Silas would probably still be here now, and don’t think I haven’t blamed myself for that. Perhaps this is my way of trying to make reparation.’

‘But everyone will know why we’re getting married …’ Even in her own ears, the protest sounded stock and feeble.

‘What will they know?’ he asked. ‘They’ll know that we had some kind of rift three years ago, and parted. And now, older and wiser, we’re together again.’ He gave her a wintry smile. ‘Our tender embrace at the Country Club won’t have gone unremarked, you can bet. Anyone remotely interested in our private affairs will take it for granted that our reconciliation began there and then.’ He paused. ‘When’s the next board meeting?’

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.