“You can’t deny what’s between us—” About the Author Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE Copyright

“You can’t deny what’s between us—”

“There’s nothing between us, Cameron,” Candy hissed savagely. “Nothing except years of betrayal and hate and misery. Do you really think I would be so insanely foolish as to let myself be persuaded to be another Michelle?”

“By that you mean...?” Cameron asked slowly, his voice expressionless.

“Pregnant and abandoned.”

“Was that Michelle’s version of the story?”

“You used her, Cameron, and then walked away when things got too hot. I shall never forgive you. Never.”

Helen Brooks lives in Northamptonshire, England, and is married with three children. As she is a committed Christian, busy housewife and mother, her spare time is at a premium but her hobbies include reading and walking her two energetic and very endearing young dogs. Her long-cherished aspiration to write became a reality when she put pen to paper on reaching the age of forty, and sent the result off to Harlequin Mills & Boon.

Sweet Betrayal
Helen Brooks

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

‘IF THAT crazy animal isn’t off my property in the next thirty seconds I’ll shoot it!’

Candy couldn’t stop a startled gasp escaping her lips as she swung round so sharply that she almost overbalanced off the crumbling stone wall where she had been sitting in the weak March sunshine that had no warmth. The man behind her matched the voice: big, hard and uncompromisingly severe.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Indignation swamped the fear and her brown eyes narrowed furiously. ‘I have every right to be here! Just who do you think——?’

‘I am?’ The tall figure clicked his fingers to his own two black Labradors, who sat immediately by his side like two well trained statues. ‘I know who I am; the point is—who are you? And the statement stands: you have exactly four seconds left to call that thing to order.’

She looked from the dark brown, bearded face to the heavy shotgun in his gloved hands and her stomach turned over. He meant it! He really would shoot Jasper.

‘Jasper!’ Her voice held a note of terror, and immediately Jasper stopped his gambolling to look towards his beloved mistress, leaping up the grassy slope in two bounds and jumping effortlessly over the wall to land by her side, his brown eyes enquiring and his long tongue lolling in its usual ridiculous manner. The two black Labradors didn’t even flick an eyelid as he sniffed interestedly in their direction.

She bent to fasten the lead round his neck and he looked up reproachfully as the heavy chain slipped over his golden head. It had been years since he had suffered such an indignity, and in front of two other dogs too!

‘Don’t you realise that there are sheep about to lamb in that pasture?’ The deep, gravelly voice was familiar somehow, but she couldn’t place it, and now was not the time to reflect. ‘I suppose you’re a townie out for the day?’ The last was said with such contempt that she reared up furiously with a muttered oath, causing Jasper to growl deep in his throat. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but, if there was any defending to do, those two black sentinels had better know he meant business! No one was touching his mistress while he was around.

‘I have lived in Downdale all my life, as it happens.’ Her voice was shaking with suppressed anger and hurt. ‘I know exactly what is in that field and all the others round here. Jasper has been brought up with farm animals and would no more chase a sheep than...’ She couldn’t think of an appropriate simile and floundered helplessly. ‘And we have permission to be on this land!’ The last was said with such conviction that the icy blue eyes watching her so coldly narrowed into two chips of glittering glass.

‘Really?’ His voice was mockingly arrogant. ‘I think not. I would have known if I had given permission for someone so obviously irresponsible to walk my fields.’

‘They aren’t your fields!’ She pushed back the hood of the heavy, thick duffel coat that was protection against the biting wind that scoured the hillside and immediately her hair was whipped into a mad scramble of tangled red silk. ‘They belong to Colonel Strythe and he——’

‘Colonel Strythe is dead.’ The statement was completely without feeling.

‘I know that,’ she snapped back abruptly, furious that this obnoxious stranger could talk about her father’s old friend, who had been like a member of her own family, so coldly. ‘I was at the funeral last Wednesday, but until they can contact the son the Colonel’s old rules apply...’ Her voice trailed off in horrified realisation as she stared into the only recognisable feature in that dark, bearded face. His eyes. She should have recognised his eyes! Only Cameron Strythe had eyes that were as piercing as a razor-sharp sword and as cold as ice. She remembered those eyes! How could she have forgotten? And the voice, distinct with its strange, gravelly texture that in the throes of adolescence she had thought so attractive.

‘I see I need not introduce myself, but, nevertheless, Cameron Strythe at your service . . . Miss . . . ?’

She ignored the implied question and stared at him as though he were the devil himself. He was so different! She remembered a tall, smiling young man with the charm of a thousand Irish tongues and fair, cleanshaven skin. This man’s face was as dark as an Arab’s with long hair bleached almost blond at the ends. He resembled a wild gypsy rather than the cool, university-educated young man she recalled.

‘When did you get back?’ Her voice was a horrified whisper and immediately lost in the wind as it swirled round them with increasing force, the sunlight racing dark shadows across the valley below. She repeated the question more loudly and he looked at her intently, searching her face with those deadly eyes.

‘Do I know you?’ Did he know her? She could have laughed if the circumstances had been different. She remembered the last time he had visited the house to see Michelle, her sister. They had been engaged to be married and the wedding date was only weeks away. Candy already had her bridesmaid’s dress, a frothy pink creation in tulle and taffeta. The dress was suddenly there before her, clear in detail to the last tiny rosebud on the hem. Her twelve-year-old heart had been thrilled with such finery, but then there had been a terrible scene that night and Cameron had gone away. And later, a few weeks later, Michelle’s shape had begun to change too drastically to disguise any more, and six months later Jamie was born. The whole affair had broken Michelle’s heart and made her parents old before their time... and this man was responsible for all the misery!

‘What’s the matter?’ The perpetrator of all the heartbreak, which had dulled over the passage of time, but was awakened as new as if it had all happened yesterday, took a step towards her, alarmed at the pallor of her face and the wide, staring eyes.

‘Get away from me!’ It was a snarl of hate and he recognised it as such, stopping in his tracks with an expression of almost comical amazement stretching his chiselled features. ‘You aren’t fit to be called your father’s son.’

As the words registered his expression froze, but she was gone before he could form a reply, running down the hillside on legs that flew over the rough, coarse grass, her long hair streaming behind her like dancing red ribbons, and Jasper bounding by her side, enthralled by the new game.

She didn’t stop till she reached home, bursting into the drawing-room, where her parents were sitting in front of a roaring log fire, enjoying a Sunday afternoon snooze with just the cat for company.

‘Candy!’ Her mother had almost leapt from the chair in her fright. ‘What on earth is the matter? You’ve frightened me half to death!’

‘Sorry.’ She stood panting in the middle of the room with such a hunted expression on her face that her parents both rose as one and reached her side in the same instant.

‘What’s the matter?’ It was her father speaking now, his voice worried. ‘Has there been an accident? Are you all right?’

‘I saw him.’ She wouldn’t have believed she could feel like this about something that had happened so long ago. It must be ten years since that terrible time, and Michelle was happily married now, with two more children to keep Jamie company and a husband who was crazy about her, but every so often she caught a glimpse of that old haunted expression in her sister’s eyes and knew she was thinking about Cameron Strythe, the man who had taken her innocence and then let her down so badly. She didn’t know if Michelle still hated him, but she knew she did, more than ever!

‘Him?’ Her father shook her slightly in his concern. ‘Who, for crying out loud?’

‘Cameron Strythe.’ Her voice was flat now and she felt the rage seep out of her as the urge to cry became paramount. ‘And he was so awful about Uncle Charles, Dad; he spoke as though he didn’t care.’

‘Perhaps he doesn’t.’ Her mother sighed deeply and shook her grey head slowly. ‘Ten years is a long time to be away, Candy; people change. But it’s no concern of ours one way or the other, is it?’

‘How can you say that?’ She stared into her mother’s gentle blue eyes in horrified denial. ‘After what he did to Michelle?’

‘What happened between your sister and Cameron Strythe was a long time ago and only they know the real facts,’ her father said stiffly as he left her side and returned to his chair by the fire. ‘It hurt us all, especially Charles, but the past is the past and I don’t want old wounds reopened now. Michelle is happy—you know that for yourself—and if Cameron chooses to come back here to live that is his prerogative. He has inherited a vast estate, you know—Uncle Charles was very wealthy.’

‘I’m surprised he left it all to him,’ Candy said bitterly as she flung her heavy duffel coat, scarf and mittens on a nearby chair, emerging as a slender, tall young woman with a cascade of wavy, silky hair almost to her waist.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ her father said sharply. ‘Charles loved his son; he was all he had. Don’t let old memories sour you, puss; you’re too sweet for that.’

‘Huh!’ She eyed her father balefully as she bent down to remove some tiny sticky balls that had got embedded in Jasper’s coat from the dense undergrowth on the hillside. ‘That was said tongue in cheek.’

‘Maybe.’ Her father allowed himself a small smile as he surveyed his volatile younger daughter. ‘But Cameron may well be here to stay, and, in a small village like this, open war will make life very difficult for a number of people. You must let the past stay in the past, Candy. I mean it.’

‘Dad, I’m a matronly schoolteacher of twenty-two,’ she answered drily. ‘I think I can decide for myself how I treat Cameron Strythe if I happen to see him again.’

‘Oh, you’ll see him again.’ Her mother’s voice was resigned. ‘We all will. You might as well get used to the idea. He now owns most of the village, remember, and, like it or not, both your father’s job and this house are under his control.’

‘Oh, Dad.’ She stared, stricken-faced, at her father. As manager of Charles’s huge farm, her father had always enjoyed a close friendship with his employer, the two having grown up together, and it had never occurred to her before that their very livelihood was tied up with their relationship with the Strythes. Even her job, as village schoolteacher, could be said to rely on ‘the big house’, as the farm was called in the village. She knew Uncle Charles had kept the school going for years after the council had wanted to close it and transfer the thirty or so pupils to a bigger school a bus ride away.

Her stomach turned over. This was something she had never foreseen, never imagined in her wildest dreams. How could she have been so naive? Cameron’s name had never been mentioned for years, by unspoken consent on the part of all concerned, but she should have realised he would inherit, being the only child of his father. It was an impossible situation to be reliant on him for their very existence, unimaginable!

‘I’m going to get changed. Don’t forget David is picking us up at six,’ she said miserably as she walked slowly from the warm, cheerful room into the colder hall. That was another thing that was grating on her nerves these days. She had known David since she could toddle—all the village children enjoyed close friendships, being such a small community—but lately his feelings for her seemed to have undergone a subtle change which was becoming more obvious each time they met. She liked him—of course she did; everyone liked David—but anything romantic... She grimaced as she sat down at her dressing-table in her small bedroom, her eyes moving unconsciously to the window and the panoramic view over the Devon countryside outside that never ceased to thrill her. When Michelle had left to get married her parents had offered her the bigger room, but she had preferred to stay in her own, where every morning the first sight that met her eyes was rolling meadows dotted with grazing cattle, and the faint outline of gently undulating hills beyond.

Unlike her sister, who had revelled in the bright lights and longed to escape from what she considered ‘a dead world’, Candy had ached for the sound of ancient church bells pealing out on a warm summer evening when she was in London at university, pining for the atmosphere of serenity and the timelessness that the sixteenth-century village offered. Most of the buildings were buff-washed, nestling beneath the traditional covering of heavy thatch, from which quaint little semi-dormer leaded windows emerged. Now, when she visited Michelle in her smart town house with all mod cons and the best that money could buy, the only emotion she felt was one of faint depression and a sense of confirmation that she had made the right decision in her own life. She had been offered a couple of prime career moves on leaving university with a first-class degree, but had preferred to come home and take over the village school, enabling the current schoolteacher, Mrs Jacobs, to take a longdelayed world cruise with her husband. Mrs Jacobs had made no secret of her desire for Candy to step into her shoes for years.

Altogether life had been good, apart from the irritation of David’s growing affection. Until today. When she had met him. She gazed vacantly into the dressing-table mirror, blind to the heart-shaped face with its huge, beautiful, heavily lashed eyes and delicately shaped mouth that gazed back at her from the misty reflection.

They were all ready and waiting when David called promptly at six, and the short journey to his parents’ home took no more than two minutes in his lovingly nurtured old banger. He seemed a trifle subdued, but that suited Candy, lost as she was in her own thoughts, and her parents were more than capable of keeping the conversation chugging along.

‘Mother has invited an old friend of yours, apparently.’ David’s voice was sheepish as he helped them off with their coats in the hall preparatory to going through to the spacious oak-beamed sitting-room at the back of the house.

‘Oh, yes?’ Candy was instantly suspicious. Mrs Clarke was the biggest gossip in the village, besides being the most unhappy, restless woman Candy had ever met. She adored intrigue, embroidering the most innocent of happenings in a way that could only be described as malicious, and inventing what was lacking. Her parents knew David’s parents on a social level, exchanging dinner invitations like the one tonight now and again, but she could never have termed them friends of the family.

As she stepped through the living-room door and the unmistakable deep, throaty voice met her ears she had the insane impulse to turn and run for a shaming, fleeting moment, before her chin came up and her face set in what her father often called the ‘battle zone’. That woman! She had invited Cameron Strythe here. Just to see the reaction of them all.

‘Vivien, Ernest and dear Candice.’ Mrs Clarke moved forward in a theatrical pose like an actress in a third-rate movie, her pointed, narrow face alive with hard curiosity. ‘How lovely to see you, and I think you know dear Cameron.’ She indicated the tall, silent figure behind her with an affected wave of her hand. Candy spared him a fleeting glance and, catching the stunned expression in those blue eyes, assumed correctly that he had had no idea who the dinner guests were either. She also noticed the beard had gone, leaving a faintly paler skin underneath to the rest of the hard, tanned face, and that some time in the afternoon he had had a haircut. The smart, indolent man standing to one side of their little throng was more recognisable as the old Cameron. It made it even easier to hate him.

‘He only got back last night,’ Mrs Clarke continued into the growing silence, her small black eyes flashing from one to the other in satisfied spite, ‘and we couldn’t leave him to eat alone on his first day back on English soil, could we?’ She gave the tinkling false laugh that always caused Candy’s teeth to grate. ‘I don’t suppose you realised he was home.’ The last was said to her mother, who was rooted to the spot just inside the door, and Candy came immediately to her rescue, forcing a light laugh as she took her mother’s arm and guided her to an easy-seat near by.

‘I met Cameron this afternoon, as it happens.’

‘You did?’ The harsh voice was quizzical, and as Candy turned to meet his eyes she saw there was a frankly appreciative gleam on his face as he took in her slim, full-breasted figure and heavy fall of silky red hair. ‘I obviously was too far away to see you.’

‘Not at all.’ Her big brown eyes were tight on his face now and no one present could fail to read their expression of cold, unmitigated dislike. ‘You threatened to shoot my dog, if you remember.’

The words hung for a moment in the breathless silence that had fallen on the assembled company, and then Mrs Clarke trilled her false laugh into the tense stillness. ‘Oh, Candice, you have such a strange sense of humour, always so contrary.’

‘You don’t believe me?’ She shot round on the unfortunate Mrs Clarke as though she had jetpropelled heels. ‘Ask him, then. Ask him what he did with his afternoon.’

‘That was you?’ He stared at the tall, beautifully groomed woman in front of him with something like disbelief on his face. ‘But you looked so different...’

‘I was muffled from head to foot in a duffel coat, scarf and Wellington boots, if you remember,’ she said icily, ‘but yes, it was me. And yes, that was my dog you threatened to destroy.’ Her eyes raked him slowly from head to foot and she allowed a small, contemptuous smile to play round her mouth for a moment. ‘You seem to have smartened up a little too.’

He stared at her for a long moment as his face took on the texture of cold granite and his eyes became glacial. ‘Well, well.’ There was savage derision in the grim voice now. ‘So this is little carrot-tops. You sure have changed, sweetheart.’

‘You bet your sweet life!’ She came back with the retort like a pistol shot, and for a moment their eyes clashed and held in a bitter battle of wills, with neither giving an inch. It was her father who defused the situation, taking Cameron’s arm in a light hold as he turned the younger man to face him.

‘It’s been a long time, Cam.’ He spoke the nickname with no false friendliness, merely the unaffected respect he showed to all his fellow human beings, and Candy saw Cameron take a long, deep breath before his body relaxed and a careful smile touched the firm mouth.

‘Too long.’ He included her mother in his glance, but Candy noticed the cold blue eyes didn’t rest on her for a second. ‘I was going to give you a call early tomorrow morning. I shall need your help in picking up some of the strings.’

‘No problem,’ her father returned easily. She stared at him in a mixture of anger and disappointment. Don’t talk to him, Dad, she wanted to scream. Hit him and walk out. Her father did neither of these things and there was obvious annoyance on Mrs Clarke’s face a few minutes later as she ushered them to the table. She had clearly been hoping for fireworks, Candy reflected bitterly, glancing at David as she sat down and noticing he studiously avoided catching her eye. Why hadn’t he warned them that Cameron was here? He must have known how painful the first meeting would be, especially with a crowd of onlookers. It was a stupid question; she knew the answer. Mummy’s little boy would do as he was told. She suddenly realised why his amorous attentions had irritated her so badly. There had been something almost apologetic in their content, holding the same meekness he displayed with his mother. Her decisive, forceful nature had rebelled instinctively.

‘And where have you been hiding yourself for the last ten years, Cameron?’ Mrs Clarke asked with artificial sweetness as they all began on their prawn cocktails.

‘I never hide, Mrs Clarke.’ He looked his hostess full in the face as he spoke and there was something in the dark, harsh voice that must have warned her he would stand no nonsense. She flushed hotly and bent to retrieve her napkin, which had fallen on the floor, her thin mouth tight with irritated annoyance.

‘Your father told me you worked on the oil-rigs for some time and then bought a farm in Australia.’ Again it was her father who stepped into the breach. ‘I understand you were on the way to making your fortune out there?’

‘Things went well,’ Cameron answered shortly. ‘I had some good men working for me.’ He obviously had no intention of discussing his private affairs at the dinner table, and Candy had to admit she didn’t blame him. She was trying to assimilate the knowledge that her father and Uncle Charles had discussed Cameron now and again, apparently with no animosity. She was beginning to feel she didn’t know her father at all.

‘What are your plans for the future?’ her mother asked quietly, and as Cameron turned to her he smiled his first genuine smile of the evening. Candy felt her heart give a strange little lurch as the cold blue eyes softened and the years seemed to fall away from him. She recalled how often he had taken the time to talk to her when he was courting her sister, often letting her tag along, much to Michelle’s disgust, and always referring to her affectionately as ‘carrot-tops’. Her hair had been more ginger than red then and she had worn it, much to her parents’ horror, in a spiky, short tomboy cut. He had been the only one who had said it suited her and she had never known his eyes be anything but soft when they looked at her, although there had been several occasions, even before the split, when they had been as cold as ice with Michelle. She shook herself mentally. He was a swine and a heartless seducer and all the rest had been a sham. The passage of time had borne that out.

‘I’m not sure yet, Vivien.’ He let his gaze roam over them all now and Candy fancied it turned glacial as it passed over her red head. ‘I shall make some changes; apart from that I haven’t had time to consider.’

‘Changes?’ Her mother sounded anxious, and Candy could have killed him for putting that frown of worry on her mother’s face.

‘My father was a good man, but too easily persuaded at times.’ There was iron in the voice now. ‘The school, for instance. From what I’ve seen of the business accounts a good deal of money seemed to find its way in that direction and with Chitten School a few miles away it seems ridiculous to continue to subsidise what is essentially a decaying building. The council won’t spend a penny on it; they obviously want it closed.’

He knew! He knew she was the schoolmistress; she could feel it in her bones. He was playing with her, like a cat with a mouse. Losing her job was going to be payment for the way she had treated him today.

‘Oh, but Candy is the teacher there,’ her mother said quickly, ‘and the children so love her.’

‘You’re the teacher?’ He turned to face her now and as she met the full force of his cold blue stare her suspicions were confirmed. Yes, he had known. It was written in every line of his proud, arrogant face, and the small, menacing twist to his mouth would have convinced her if nothing else had. ‘Dear, dear.’ He raked back his hair, so dark a brown as to be almost black now the bleached ends had gone. ‘Well, we’ll have to confer about this, won’t we?’

She glared back at him, too angry to consider what she said. ‘I’m sure you’ll do exactly what you want to regardless of anyone else’s feelings, Mr Strythe.’ His eyebrows rose mockingly as she gave him his full title. ‘You did ten years ago, and a leopard doesn’t change its spots.’

Her last words had wiped away the small smile that had played round his mouth in satirical contempt as he had listened to her passionate outburst and now, as her face turned white with the realisation of what she had said in front of everyone, he slowly moved his gaze from hers after one searing glance of utter scorn.

‘This is excellent, Mrs Clarke. My compliments to the chef.’ The smooth, controlled voice was like a slap in the face and she sank back in her seat feeling quite mortified, like a small child who had unwittingly made a serious social blunder.

She kept her eyes on her plate for the next few minutes, looking neither to left nor right while her hot anger cooled and she gained control, and when she heard Cameron deep in conversation with his host, a small, meek man normally dwarfed by his shrew of a wife, she raised them slowly and looked his way.

The years had added to his appeal, she admitted grudgingly—if you liked cold, unfeeling robots, that was! He had always been tall and lean, but now his shoulders were powerfully developed with the muscled strength of a prime athlete. His hair had been cut short, very short, which accentuated the chiselled, hard features and steel-blue eyes with their surprisingly thick lashes. Not exactly good-looking in the usual mode, she reflected musingly, but she could imagine the ladies just falling into those strong arms, wanting to change the indifference in those sharp eyes into something else.

There was something about him—a detachment, an aloofness that would draw some women like a powerful amulet. He stood out from the crowd. He always had.

She flushed scarlet suddenly as she became aware of his dark, raised eyebrows, his eyes tight on her face. He had caught her staring and she was furious with herself. Whatever would he think?

‘I would like to discuss the school’s finances further, Candice.’ She noticed he gave her her full name, and he must have remembered how much she hated it! ‘Could you call at the house after work tomorrow?’

‘I suppose so,’ she said bitterly, her expression portraying that she thought it was a fruitless exercise. ‘It takes me some time to clear up, so I’ll be there about five. OK?’

‘Fine,’ he returned easily. ‘I’ll have some tea waiting.’

‘Please don’t bother.’ This polite conversation was ridiculous after what had gone before, she thought irritably. Everyone could feel the undercurrents swirling like a heavy black flood.

‘It’s no bother.’ His eyes had narrowed and she sensed again that brooding ruthlessness that seemed at the very essence of him now. ‘Mrs Baines is an excellent housekeeper, as I’m sure you know.’ She couldn’t bring herself to smile and merely nodded abruptly, her eyes cold. ‘I’m sure Candice will bring you up to date with what we decide,’ he said now to her father.

‘She’s her own boss, Cam,’ her father said quietly. ‘Has been for years.’

‘I don’t doubt it.’ There was a cutting note in Cameron’s voice that everyone seemed to miss apart from her, Candy thought balefully. He thought he was so powerful, so omnipotent. Well, she would show him! If he expected her to grovel to keep the school open he had another think coming. Nothing, nothing on this earth would persuade her to do that. If she had to get another job, so be it. Her qualifications were good enough to get her in anywhere.

The rest of the evening was fairly uneventful, although the discord between Candy and Cameron fairly reverberated around the room and everyone was glad when it was time to leave.

As the others milled into the hall, selecting their coats from the fashionable antique hallstand, Cameron caught Candy’s arm, forcing her to stand still. ‘At five, then. I’m looking forward to it.’ The arrogantly threatening note irritated her and she raised her huge brown eyes to his lowered face, her expression sardonic.

‘Of such is life’s little pleasures made.’ The scorn in her voice was unmistakable.

‘Exactly.’ Now his voice was chilling. ‘I’ve waited a long time to see you all again.’

‘We didn’t go anywhere,’ she bit back furiously, and he allowed himself a small, cold smile.

‘So you didn’t. My, you’ve changed. Quite unrecognisable.’ It wasn’t meant as a compliment and she didn’t pretend to treat it as such.

‘You, unfortunately, are just the same.’ She was annoyed to find her senses were registering the fact that he smelt delicious and a strange little quiver was causing her stomach muscles to clench in protest. He was so very...male. She couldn’t think of anyone else who wore their masculinity so aggressively.

‘I seem to remember we got on all right in the old days,’ he said mockingly, and she felt an almost overwhelming impulse to smack that imperious face hard!

‘I was a child then,’ she answered shortly, ‘and children are very trusting. Then they grow up.’

‘I gather that little dig is meant for me?’ The nerve of the man! After all that had happened, to stand there looking so irritatingly pleased with himself!

‘Candy! Are you coming?’ David’s voice sounded faintly possessive, and she caught the contemplative look in Cameron’s eyes as David walked in with her coat, helping her into it with an unnecessary air of ownership.

As they made their goodbyes she was vitally aware of the tall dark figure looking on just behind his hosts, and once in the car she maintained a cool silence until David pulled up outside their house. ‘Go on in, you two; I just want a word with David.’ There was something in her tone that caught her mother’s attention.

‘It’s been a long day, dear; why don’t you——?’

‘Mum, please. I won’t be a minute.’ Her tone was polite but uncompromising and her mother bowed to the inevitable. Candy guessed her mother had sensed what she was about to say and wanted to talk her out of it. She had been hoping for some time that she and David would become more than friends, but had known better than to come straight out with her matchmaking.

Once they were alone she turned to David with eyes that were uncharacteristically hard. ‘What have you got to say for yourself?’

‘What about?’ He couldn’t hold her gaze. His eyes dropped to the dashboard and he fiddled with the radio, settling on a loud pop programme that grated round the car.

‘You knew he would be there tonight, didn’t you? Was he there when you left to fetch us?’

‘No, of course not.’ She knew he was lying; it was in every weak line of his face.

‘Well, as far as I’m concerned you’ve let me down badly. I don’t trust you.’ She spoke in a quiet, reasonable tone, and for a moment the impact of her words didn’t strike home, and then his face turned a dull red.

‘Now look here, Candy——’

‘No, you look here.’ She still was speaking quietly, but now there was a throbbing anger in her voice that made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. ‘I happen to think that friendship is an important thing and I expect my friends to support me as I do them. You knew that man would be there tonight and you also knew all the history. I don’t happen to consider myself or my family entertainment for one of your mother’s sick schemes. What she did tonight was malicious and spiteful and you backed her all the way.’

‘This is ridiculous...’ His voice faded as she opened the car door jerkily.

‘Goodbye, David.’ She banged the car door with such ferocity that it bounced open again, but she entered the house without a backward glance.

What an evening! As she lay in bed, gazing up in the darkness to the pale glow of the ceiling, she could have almost laughed if it weren’t all so tragic. She had lost her job and David in one fell swoop, although the latter she was well rid of, and it looked as though her little band of children, more like family than anything eise, were going to be turned out of their school and forced to make the journey to Chitten. Her heart gave a little wrench as she pictured them one by one in her mind. Little Ann Cartwright was doing so well, in spite of her severe speech impediment, but she would just shrivel up in the anonymity of a big school, and Kevin... Now she couldn’t stop the hot tears from seeping out of her eyes. He had lost his father recently in a farming accident and was still at the stage where he was clinging to her all day long. He would never cope with a change of schools.

How she hated Cameron Strythe! She sat up in bed suddenly and clenched her fists in helpless frustration. The man was a monster, a cold, unfeeling monster. Well, he couldn’t just come back and wreck all their lives for the second time. She bit on her lip until she tasted blood. She would stop him. She didn’t know how, but she would stop him, if it was the last thing she ever did. She wouldn’t rest until he was crushed and broken...as Michelle had been on that night so long ago when he had left the house with his head held high and she had raced into the sitting-room to hear her sister moaning like an animal, crouched on her knees on the carpet.

She would wait until either fate or opportunity put a weapon in her hands and then she would use it, without pity and with no regard for his feelings.

He would find that the younger Baker sister wasn’t such a push-over as her big sister. She would play him at his own game—and win!

CHAPTER TWO

IN THE cold light of day Candy woke up to the knowledge that Cameron Strythe was holding all the aces and she hated Monday mornings! The school was always freezing owing to being unoccupied all weekend, and the huge, unsightly radiators that were so inefficient always took all day to get the place warm.

After fixing a light breakfast of toast and coffee she sat curled up on the sitting-room window-seat watching the rain pour down outside. ‘Come down to earth, girl,’ she muttered to herself as she sipped the hot liquid slowly. ‘You haven’t got an earthly against him.’ It would be the easiest thing in the world to close down the school; the council had been angling for it for years. It had only been Colonel Strythe’s influence on the various committees he attended, plus the big, fat allowance he made the school each year, that had kept it open this far, and obviously all that had come to an end.

‘Oh, Jasper...’ She allowed herself the brief indulgence of wallowing in self-pity for a few moments, her head buried in the warm, thick fur of the golden retriever, then squared her shoulders determinedly. Well, she might not be able to fight him with regard to the school, but she wouldn’t leave a stone unturned to make his victory as empty as possible.

‘Good morning, Miss Baker.’ For the second time since his return Cameron forced her to give an exclamation of surprise as she swung round from the blackboard mid-morning to see him standing just inside the classroom door. ‘I hope I’m not intruding?’ His eyes dared her to speak her mind with the children watching and expressed malicious satisfaction when she forced herself to speak pleasantly.

‘Not at all, Mr Strythe. What can I do for you?’

‘I just thought I would pop in and see you at work,’ he answered coolly. ‘I trust you have no objection.’

‘What a pity.’ Her eyes darted black fire, but her mouth was smiling for the little onlookers surveying them so interestedly. ‘It’s time for the children’s playtime.’ As she provided each child with a carton of milk and an apple, another of Colonel Strythe’s blessings, she was aware of Cameron taking note of the crumbling plaster and creaking floorboards, but ignored him pointedly. ‘It’s stopped raining, children. All out into the playground. Mrs Harris has just arrived.’

When the last child had left the room and she had checked that they were all safely in the small playground with Karen Harris, one of the mother-helpers, she turned to Cameron with a frankly hostile expression on her face. ‘Well?’

‘You know, you really do have the most charming way with you,’ he drawled slowly as he walked over to the empty picnic basket and flicked the lid with one finger. ‘And who provides this little service each day? And don’t tell me the council, because they gave free milk up years ago.’

‘It was never given up at this school,’ Candy answered coldly. ‘Your father always saw to it that the required number of cartons of milk and apples were delivered each morning.’

‘And who twisted his arm for that little act of generosity?’ His voice was purposely insulting.

‘I have no idea,’ she returned acidly, ‘considering I was merely a child myself at the time. Does it matter? Your father liked children, unlike some men.’ She didn’t even try to hide the meaning behind her barbed words.

‘Meaning I don’t?’ There was an element of bewilderment in his face.

‘Jamie is nearly ten years old now.’ She had clearly lost him along the way; she could see it in the narrowing puzzlement of those piercing blue eyes. ‘Jamie, Michelle’s child.’ His face hardened at the explanation and his mouth straightened into a thin, cruel line.

‘So?’ He was looking down at her in spite of her considerable height. He must be at least six feet four, she thought irrelevantly, and then returned to the attack, annoyed that her mind could wander at a moment like this.

‘So?’ She could feel the colour of her cheeks was matching the red of her hair but she didn’t care. This man was incredible, absolutely incredible! ‘Aren’t you even interested in seeing him?’

‘Any particular reason why I should be?’ he said coldly, his face thundery.

She was saved the necessity of a reply by a timid knocking at the door that led into the playground. ‘Please, miss...’ Little Julie Roberts was standing on the threshold with one arm supportively round Kevin’s thin, trembling shoulders. ‘He wants you.’

‘What’s wrong, Kevin?’ She went down on her heels in front of the small, woebegone figure, who lifted a grubby, tear-stained face up to her with a loud sniff.

‘I want me mam.’

‘You know she’s coming for you later, after work, and Grandma is picking you up for lunch, isn’t she?’ He nodded dismally, a wealth of sadness in his large blue eyes. She rose up with him in her arms and carried him over to her chair, ignoring Cameron as though he didn’t exist.

‘It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?’ She had found in the last few weeks since his father had died that distraction was the best policy, combined with a close cuddle. He nodded again, looking up at her quickly.

‘How old will you be?’

‘You know, miss.’ He wriggled delightedly at her asking.

‘Oh, yes.’ She pretended to consider a moment. ‘Twenty-one, isn’t it?’

‘Six.’

‘Six?’ She clapped a hand over her mouth in mock horror. ‘But you’re enormous! You aren’t kidding me, are you?’ He shook his head, but she noticed that the tears had dried up and a small smile was playing round the milk-stained mouth.

‘I bet you’ll get lots of presents.’ She knew for a fact that half the village had already bought the small lad a gift, stunned and horrified as they all were at the tragic accident.

‘I can’t have a party.’ He turned his great eyes up to her again. ‘Me mam hasn’t got enough pennies this year.’ He was clearly going to follow the train of thought that would lead him to why and his father’s death, so she cut in quickly, her voice bright.

‘Oh, we’re having a party here for you,’ she improvised rapidly. ‘A big cake and streamers and everything.’

‘And balloons?’ His face had suddenly become alight and she smiled as she nodded vigorously.

‘Of course, lots of balloons. Do you want to go and tell the other children now and then you can all start looking forward to it.’

‘Me tell them?’ This was clearly the icing on the cake and he slid off her lap and marched to the door, his thin shoulders squared with importance.

‘What was all that about?’ She had almost forgotten Cameron was there, but now he moved round to her side from where he had been standing leaning quietly against the wall. ‘Do you have parties for all the children?’

She felt it was another criticism on needless expenditure and glared at him angrily, her face burning. ‘Of course not, but Kevin has lost his father recently and there’s only him and his mother. The grandparents help, but she’s finding it hard and the pair of them aren’t over the first shock yet.’

‘Is that Mike Wilson’s son?’ His voice was harsh. She nodded slowly.

‘I read the report on that yesterday. It happened on my father’s property, didn’t it? The man pulled down a load of stacked logs on himself when he was drunk.’

‘He’d been drinking the night before, yes,’ Candy answered tightly, ‘but I understand the accident was just one of those things.’

‘Hardly.’ Cameron’s voice was cold. ‘The insurance company don’t want to know. There was no negligence on my father’s part, just sheer stupidity on Wilson’s side. From the amount of alcohol still in his system I’m amazed he could have stood up. I’m afraid the family won’t get a penny in damages.’

‘They already know that,’ she answered shortly, astounded by his lack of compassion. ‘And don’t worry, they have no intention of trying to get you to pay anything.’ She almost spat the words at him. He was worse than ever she had imagined. She would never have believed a human being could be so devoid of even the most elementary tenderness. There had been no sympathy in his voice, just cold, harsh censure and biting condemnation.

‘I’m aware of that,’ he answered abruptly, his dark head tilted to one side as he considered her furious face. ‘You’re determined to cast me in the role of wicked black baron, aren’t you? Do you always make such snap judgements? I wouldn’t have thought in your line of profession that was very wise.’ There it was again, that subtle criticism of her capabilities!

‘It’s no snap judgement where you are concerned,’ she answered bitingly. ‘I’ve had ten years to make up my mind about you.’

‘And hating me for every one of them?’ he asked mockingly.

‘Dead right.’ She turned and looked him full in the face. ‘To me you are the lowest thing that ever walked this earth, Cameron Strythe; a fly-blown maggot is more appealing than you.’

‘A doubtful comparison, but I think I get the message.’ The man was so infuriatingly in control, she thought wildly, as he moved lazily towards the door from which he had entered. He turned on the threshold and held her with his icy blue gaze. ‘Do I take it I am the heartless villain and your sister is the pure white innocent in this vivid imagination of yours?’

‘She was pregnant with your child and you walked out on her,’ Candy answered baldly. ‘Those are the facts; you can’t change them.’

‘And if I denied that?’

‘I wouldn’t believe you.’

‘I thought so.’ The light from the window was turning her hair into glowing fire as she stood looking at him, her eyes great black pools of pain in her chalkwhite face. He shook his head slowly, his face closed against her.

‘Oh, what a tangled web we weave...’

‘What?’ Her voice was sharp and he shook his head again, his face clearing.

‘Five tonight at the house, Candy.’

‘You still want me to come?’ She stared at him in surprise. She had thought after this little exchange there would be nothing left to say. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he had come back and pinned a notice on the door stating the school was closed until further notice!

He nodded abruptly as he left, leaving her staring miserably at the empty doorway. What a mess! What a hopeless, impossible mess. She wondered how long it would be before he could close them down. There would be official channels to go through and such like, but with Colonel Strythe gone their only support had vanished, and the council would be quick to point that out. Six months, nine months, certainly no more. The council had been waiting for an opportunity like this for years.

The first faint fingers of dusk were touching the blue-grey sky as she made her way towards the farm later that day. Normally she would have enjoyed the walk to the Strythe house, taking pleasure in the small hump-backed bridge below which the crystal-clear waters of the gurgling stream were forded by steppingstones, and the huge, sweeping drive lined with evergreen yews, oaks and beech trees, but today the beauty around her was wasted. Her whole being was concentrated on the confrontation ahead and she was dreading it. She wished Charles Strythe hadn’t died; she wished Cameron hadn’t come back; she wished so many things...

‘Hello, Miss Candy.’ Mrs Baines ushered her into the wide wood-panelled hall with a beaming smile. ‘It’s lovely to see you again, makes it seem more like old times.’ The round red-cheeked face took on a sober expression that didn’t sit well on the plump little woman. Mrs Baines had been with Colonel Strythe as long as she could remember, Candy mused; she must be missing him dreadfully. ‘Come to see Mr Cameron, I understand? You go into the drawing-room and I’ll tell him you’re here.’

Candy made her way to the drawing-room, looking round this room she had always loved as she entered. The Strythe house was built more in the style of a country mansion than of the average farmhouse seen scattered through the county. The rooms were large and high, with beautifully sculptured ceilings and vast window-seats, thick, deep carpets and long velvet curtains.

The grounds around the house were lovingly cared for and the stables situated some distance away were always in pristine condition, housing some fine mounts. According to her father, the Strythe family had diversified into many other areas besides farming, creating enormous wealth, although the family home with its acres of prime Devonshire cattle and sheep had always been Colonel Strythe’s first love.

She glanced at his portrait now as she stood before the roaring log fire waiting for Cameron’s arrival, noting the light blue eyes, the firm mouth and that small dimple in his chin that Cameron had inherited too. She missed him. She really did. The beautiful room, with its rich deep red curtains and upholstery and fine antique furniture, seemed empty without his benign presence.

‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’ She hadn’t noticed Cameron come in, lost as she was in the past, and started violently for the third time since his homecoming. ‘Do you suffer with your nerves?’ From anyone else the question, asked as it was in quiet, concerned tones, might have been genuine, but as she looked into his eyes she saw dark devilment gleaming out at her.

‘No, I do not,’ she returned sharply, flushing hotly.

‘Do I make you nervous, then?’ He had moved closer to her as he spoke and for the second time she became aware of that tantalising smell that was a part of him. It stirred something deep inside her that she would prefer not to be stirred.

‘No.’ As she spoke the denial she realised it was a lie. He did make her nervous, horribly nervous, and that in turn made her angry.

‘Good,’ he said lazily. He had changed since that morning and, looking at him in casual trousers and a heavy Aran sweater, she became aware that he really was quite devastatingly attractive. She caught her wandering thoughts savagely. She hadn’t really just thought that... had she?

‘You wanted to see me?’ She kept her voice cool and businesslike and walked with studied calm from the comforting warmth of the fire to the big easychair near by, perching on the end of it and crossing her hands on her lap.

‘Now I can almost believe you are a schoolteacher when you look like that,’ he said mockingly as he took in her stiff stance. ‘Although with that hair and those eyes it’s almost impossible to comprehend.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked furiously. ‘Schoolteachers are people; we come in all shapes and sizes.’

‘There aren’t many with a shape like yours,’ he countered quickly. ‘You can’t tell me you were short of male admirers when you were at university. I’ve been there; I know what a female like you about the place would do to the male population.’ There was some element in his voice she couldn’t place and she stared at him uncertainly for a moment.

‘I’ve had boyfriends, yes,’ she said slowly, disliking the way the conversation was going. ‘No more and no less than any other girl, I suppose.’

‘Anyone special?’ His voice was casual.

‘Look, I really don’t think that’s any of your business,’ she said sharply. ‘I’m here to discuss the school’s future—or lack of it,’ she added bitterly. ‘Shall we get on with it?’

‘Impatient little puss, aren’t you?’ he said mockingly, smiling slightly as she glared back at him. ‘But I suppose you were destined to be prickly and badtempered with hair the colour of fire.’

‘I am not prickly or bad-tempered—usually,’ she added pointedly, ‘and please cut the chit-chat. You won’t charm me, Mr Strythe, so don’t try.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ he said cryptically.

It was some time later when Mrs Baines brought in the tea-trolley and by then Candy had to admit that putting money into the school in a business sense was like pouring it down the drain. She couldn’t justify Cameron’s continuing his father’s patronage in any financial argument, but then Colonel Strythe hadn’t looked on it as an investment in any other sense but a human one. He had known how much the villagers wanted their children taught locally, he had seen how happy their offspring were in familiar surroundings, and once he had satisfied himself that the academic standard was good enough he had been more than prepared to be magnanimous. He could afford it, he had once told Candy, and the amount he spared the school and village was lost in the Strythe finances. Obviously his son thought differently!

She glared at him now as he gravely thanked Mrs Baines and took the heavy trolley from her, opening the door for her to leave. He could be so sickeningly pleasant when he pleased, but he didn’t fool her for a minute. She had seen what loving him had done to her sister, and Colonel Strythe had never been the same again once his son had left. This man left devastation and havoc wherever he went. She wondered how many broken hearts were scattered across Australia.

‘I won’t say, “a penny for your thoughts”, because frankly I think I would be better not knowing,’ the deep, husky voice said cynically. She focused her eyes sharply, aware she had been gazing at him with her thoughts far away. ‘Help yourself to sandwiches and cake and please try to force yourself to eat, whatever you think of the present company. Mrs Baines will be most upset if most of this doesn’t disappear.’

Candy had always been blessed with a particularly robust appetite that rarely faltered whatever the circumstances, and the selection of wafer-thin sandwiches, temptingly filled rolls, tiny individual pork pies and mouth-watering homemade cakes was too good to resist. Cameron had pulled two easy-chairs closer to the fire before bringing the trolley to her side, switching on the television as he sat down. It was too cosy, too companionable, but she was hungry, and by concentrating on the flickering screen she found she had demolished a good proportion of the food by the time she was full. She looked up to find a pair of amused steel-blue eyes fixed on her face.

‘Good grief, girl, do you always eat like that?’ His gaze roved down her slender figure in wonder.

‘You did say to eat ... whatever I think of the present company.’ The last was added with wry defiance and she swung back her heavy fold of rich silky hair from her shoulders. ‘I had better be going now. You’ve made your point about the school; I really don’t think——’

‘I haven’t made any point as far as I’m aware and we most certainly have not finished this discussion,’ he said curtly as he rang the bell by the side of the fireplace. When Mrs Baines had cleared the remains of the meal, exclaiming in pleasure at the appreciation of her cooking, he closed the door behind her and moved back to his chair, turning off the television as he did so.

‘There is another point I want to discuss with you, Candy, so forget the school problem for a moment.’ She resented hearing her nickname on his lips almost as much as she had done when he had called her Candice. The poor man can’t win, she thought wryly, except that no one in their right mind would ever describe Cameron Strythe as a poor man.

‘Your father is the same age as mine, I understand?’ She stared at him blankly. What on earth had her father’s age to do with anything?

‘I’ve no idea. I suppose they must be close in age; they grew up together, after all.’

‘Well, at sixty I think your father deserves some years without having the responsibility of what is a very taxing job on his shoulders. If Dad had taken it easier he might still be here now.’

She stared at him as the meaning of his words filtered through to her brain. ‘You aren’t going to sack him? You can’t!’ She rose abruptly to her feet, her eyes tragic.

‘Don’t be so ridiculous, woman.’ His voice cut through her like a razor. ‘I’m talking about retirement.’

‘Retirement?’ she mumbled. ‘But he doesn’t want to retire. The cottage and everything—where would they live?’ This last tack had taken her by surprise and for a moment she couldn’t get her mind to function properly, and then, as hot, blinding rage took over, she took a step towards him, drawing him to his feet by her fury.

‘You swine; you total, absolute swine!’ She was too enraged to see how white his face had gone and how those cold eyes had become positively arctic. ‘You come back here after all this time and what do you do?’ She was almost incoherent in her anger. ‘First you are going to close down the school and I don’t know what Kevin will do...’ She gave a gasping sob as she took breath. ‘And then Dad: you’re going to take out your spite on Dad as well. And what have we done to you? It was you who messed up our lives; you’ve had a rare old time ... making your fortune in Australia, and now everything is yours——’

‘Stop it.’ He had reached her side in one stride and took her arms in his hands, shaking her slightly as her voice rose to the edge of hysteria. ‘Control yourself.’

‘Control myself?’ Her voice was a shriek, but she couldn’t have stopped the avalanche if she had wanted to and she didn’t want to. She wanted to scream and yell at him, wanted to claw his face with her hands. She hated him, oh, she did, so much.

As his hand came across her face in a sharp slap the surprise of it cut off her voice as though with a knife and then the next minute he had pulled her into his arms, holding her shaking figure close as he talked in quiet, reasonable tones. ‘I’m sorry, Candy, but I had to do that; you were going to make yourself ill.’ She wanted to struggle, wanted to fight him, but suddenly the adrenalin had all gone and it was only his hands on her body keeping her upright.

‘You haven’t given me a chance to explain, to make you understand.’ He was speaking into the soft silk of her hair, her head pressed into the front of his chest, and now he lifted her face with one hand, gazing down into the tear-drenched huge eyes. ‘How can anyone so beautiful be so obstinate?’ There was a note in his voice she didn’t dare dwell on, but it made her want to cry even more. ‘What is it with you, carrot-tops?’

As his mouth came down on hers she knew she ought to resist. This was Cameron, who had used her sister so badly and now was ripping her safe little world apart, but with a sense of horror she realised she had been waiting for this since the first time she had seen him again. He was so different to any other man she had ever met, so...

As the kiss deepened his probing lips opened hers with effortless ease, speaking of his practised seduction, but although she recognised his expertise she was powerless to stop him. It was a kiss, only a kiss, and yet he had her whole body trembling and aching as though they had been making love for hours. She had always laughed at those books that spoke of the heroine becoming helpless under the hero’s passion, but she was experiencing it now!

‘So sweet, so very, very sweet ...’ His breath was hot and clean as his mouth moved to her throat, kissing the pulse beating so frantically until she thought she would faint with the thrill of it. He had her pressed close into his body, moulding her shape to his, and as she became aware of his arousal she knew a moment’s bitter-sweet satisfaction that he wanted her; he wanted her and he couldn’t hide the fact.

As his tongue ravaged the secret places of her mouth she knew a sensual pleasure she had never experienced before, hardly conscious that he was moving down her throat and still down to the soft swell of her breasts, moving aside her blouse with practised ease. His hands and mouth were both tender and forceful and she was mesmerised by it all, by this delicious intoxication that had taken over her whole body.

Somewhere, dimly, she heard a telephone ringing, but that was in another world. Her world was here in this room, with a growing, whirling crescendo of feeling, and the soft, crackling glow of the fire red against her closed eyelids.

The tap on the door and Mrs Baines’s voice acted like a draught of cold water. She jerked violently out of Cameron’s arms, glancing wildly at the closed door, and then became fully aware of the state of her undress as she stood swaying and dazed in the middle of the room.

‘Just a moment, Mrs Baines.’ Cameron’s voice was unforgivably cool, and she knew a second’s intense, burning humiliation as he waited for her to fasten the tiny silver buttons of her blouse and straighten her tumbled hair before moving across the room. She heard Mrs Baines’s voice, but couldn’t distinguish what she said through the drumming in her ears. What had she done? What had she done? To fall into his arms like that! After everything she had said, after everything he had done!

She glanced frantically at the closed door and heard Cameron’s voice, low and controlled, talking to someone in the hall. He must be on the telephone. How was she going to face him again? How was she going to endure the cool, sardonic mockery that those ice-blue eyes managed so well?

She looked towards the window hidden behind thick velvet full-length curtains. She knew the dining-room windows led on to the bowling-green-smooth lawns at the back of the house. How often she had played there as a young child while the rest of the two families socialised inside, running in and out with garlands of daisies and handfuls of buttercups picked from the small copse beyond the lawns, and later she had often sat in the shade of the big oak bordering the lawns with Uncle Charles while Mrs Baines served them tea.

She didn’t think about her actions; she just knew she had to escape before Cameron returned. It was easy to slip out through the full-length windows, shutting them carefully behind her, and then she ran like a young deer across the lawns until she reached the drive, only feeling safe once she was on the road that skirted the village. She was halfway home, keeping to the shadows, before she realised she had left her bag with its mass of homework corrections sitting by the side of her chair in the dining-room. ‘Damn, damn, damn...’ She ground her teeth angrily. Well, she couldn’t go back now. There was no way she was facing him again tonight. She would rather walk through fire backwards.

There was only Jasper to greet her when she reached home, for which she was supremely thankful. After fixing herself a cup of coffee, she carried it with her into her bedroom, drinking it down in hot, reviving gulps as she ran a warm, scented bath. She needed to soak, soak away the seductive memory of his hands and mouth on her flesh, the sense of burning betrayal of Michelle she was feeling that had her gazing wide-eyed at her reflection in the mirror as though staring at a stranger.

‘How could you, Candy? How could you do that?’ The white-faced girl looking back at her could give her no answer.

As she stepped into the bath she heard the phone ring stridently downstairs and her stomach jumped into her mouth. She paused, with one leg in the water, relaxing only when it stopped and all was quiet again. Within minutes she heard Jasper barking delightedly and her father’s voice, and then seconds later, as she was washing her hair, digging her fingers into her scalp until it hurt, the phone rang again.

‘Candy?’ Her mother’s voice sounded outside the bathroom door. ‘Cam’s on the phone. Can you take it?’

‘No, sorry.’ Her voice sounded amazingly normal. ‘I’ve just got in the bath.’

‘Oh, right.’ Her mother’s voice sounded faintly perplexed but she heard footsteps padding downstairs and she was left in peace again.

As she lay in the thick, scented water, the bubbles covering her arms and legs, hot resentment took the place of the crushing humiliation that had had her in its grip. He had tried that little seduction scene on purpose; he must think she was crazy! How low could a man get? She sat up straight in her anger, the water running in diamond rivulets down her back. He was going to close the school and sack her father, however he wanted to dress it up. That was what it amounted to, and he thought that bit of cheap lovemaking could ease the blow. Maybe he thought that having got one sister twisted round his little finger so many years ago he would have no trouble with the other one. She ground her teeth in helpless frustration. And she hadn’t exactly led him to believe differently, had she? She groaned and slid under the water for a few seconds, holding her breath as the hot water washed across her face.

What else was he going to do now he was back and so powerful? He had virtually written poor Kevin’s mother off without a penny; he obviously didn’t care about the village, the people, anything. There was no reason why he should, but surely a little compassion wouldn’t hurt too much? As she came up for air she realised her mind was going round in circles and climbed wearily out of the bath.

She would fight him—more than ever now she would fight him—but one thing she had learnt tonight. He fought dirty and if she wanted to win she had to fight dirtier still. She squared her shoulders under the thick, fleecy towelling-robe as her eyes glinted with the light of battle. ‘So be it, Cameron Strythe,’ she muttered into the steamy, damp room. ‘No holds barred, just the way you want it.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘AND where the hell did you get to last night?’ Candy had expected mockery or cool indifference, but nothing had prepared her for the furious, rapier-sharp voice that speared her as she sat at her desk at lunchtime with the sound of the children’s laughter echoing in from the playground.

‘I beg your pardon?’ She rounded indignantly to find Cameron standing in the doorway like before, but this time his face was dark with anger and his eyes were as cold as ice.

‘You will beg; before I’m finished with you I can assure you you will beg!’ His voice was a low snarl and if she hadn’t been seated she was sure her legs would have given way at the savagery in his face as he flung her bag on the floor.

‘I searched the grounds for you and then the village. I didn’t know where you’d gone, you little idiot!’

‘Home, of course.’ She glared at him angrily. ‘You phoned, didn’t you? You know that.’

‘You’ve got a nerve. You Baker sisters take some beating for sheer, cold-blooded nerve.’ She realised with a start of surprise that his voice was fairly shaking with anger and something else she couldn’t fathom.

‘What?’ He’d lost her here.

‘Nothing.’ He waved away her question with a weary gesture of contempt. ‘I don’t believe this; I don’t believe I’m actually bothering to talk to you instead of taking you over my knee and giving you the thrashing of your life.’

‘You just try it!’ She reared up like a small tigress and his eyes narrowed with hated amusement.

‘Don’t tempt me, just don’t tempt me.’

She had been wondering all morning how she would face him again after the travesty of the night before, but at least that hurdle was over, she reflected wryly as she watched him pace the room. It was comforting somehow that he wasn’t his normal cool, sardonic self, although she couldn’t have explained why. His anger was preferable to that mocking coldness that chilled her blood.

‘If you ever, ever do anything like that again I won’t be responsible for my actions.’ He had come to stand in front of her desk and she stared at him from behind its comforting bulk.

‘I don’t think that sort of situation will ever arise again, so you needn’t worry yourself on that score,’ she said tightly. ‘If you will go around leaping on women you should expect——’

‘Leaping on you?’ He stared at her astounded for a moment and then she was furious to see him throw back his head and bellow a peal of laughter that echoed round the high ceiling. ‘Is that what you’ve decided happened in that busy little brain of yours?’ He had stopped laughing now, but there was a cruel twist to his mouth. ‘Listen, sweetheart, I was there; I know what happened and so do you.’ His voice was punishingly hard. ‘I’ve no intention of labouring the point, but you enjoyed it as much as I did—and I did.’ He eyed her up and down in insulting slowness. ‘Yes, I sure did. You pack quite a punch after that touch-me-not act.’

She felt the hot colour start in her toes and work upwards. She’d asked for this, but how he was enjoying it! She maintained an icy silence, staring him straight in the eye, and he shook his head slowly as he turned away and walked to the door.

‘I haven’t worked all this out yet, but I will,’ he said coolly. ‘And if it’s as I think then some people have got a hell of a lot of explaining to do.’

‘What?’ She stared after him, baffled. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘And in the meantime,’ he continued as though she hadn’t spoken, ‘you’ll keep a civil tongue in your head, young lady.’

‘You can’t tell me what to do,’ she fired back quickly, her brown eyes glowing with rage.

‘No?’ He paused in the doorway with a cynical smile touching his lips. ‘Think again. You want the school to stay open and you want your father to keep his job?’

‘You...’ Words failed her, but the message in her eyes was piercingly eloquent.

‘Exactly. I’m the lowest thing that ever drew breath, so just remember that when you feel like defying me.’ She had thought she couldn’t hate him any more, but she was finding new boundaries to her emotions every day.

‘I’m having a small dinner party at the end of the week to break the ice with old friends and you’ll be there.’ He looked at her unsmilingly. ‘You’ll be sweet and you’ll be charming and absolutely delighted to have me home. Understand?’

‘That’s blackmail.’ Her voice was a disgusted whisper.

‘Not quite the word I would have chosen, but I see you get my drift,’ he said caustically. ‘You have done nothing but provoke and insult me since I got back and one thing you need to learn fairly rapidly is that I won’t tolerate it. This can be learnt relatively painlessly or the hard way, and frankly I don’t care which way you choose, but, Candy...’ he eyed her coldly ‘. . . you will learn it.’

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