One Chance at Love
Carole Mortimer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘I’M GOING insane! If something doesn’t soon happen to free me from here, they’re going to have to lock me up in a real prison for killing my own uncle!’

Dizzy held the receiver away from her ear as her friend’s voice rose in desperation. ‘Do I take it, Christi, dear,’ she drawled during a brief respite in the tirade—probably so that Christi could take air into her starved lungs, for she hadn’t stopped bemoaning her fate since Dizzy answered her call five minutes earlier, ‘that this visit with your uncle isn’t working out?’ She again held the receiver away from her poor abused ear, as Christi told her exactly what she thought of her visit to the Lake District. ‘And I didn’t even realise you knew words like that!’ she mocked teasingly.

‘I mean it, Dizzy,’ Christi said frantically. ‘I can’t stand it here much longer without breaking out in some way that’s going to totally destroy any chance of my uncle agreeing to my inheriting my money on my twenty-first birthday!’

Christi always had had a flair for the dramatic, which was perhaps as well, since she had chosen acting as a career, Dizzy acknowledged ruefully. But she very much doubted Christi really would do anything desperate, not when so much depended on her remaining her usually serene self. In fact, this Zachariah Bennett must be a bit of a monster to have ruffled Christi’s feathers at all!

‘You only have another month to go,’ she reminded her friend gently.

‘Three weeks and five days,’ Christi corrected sharply. ‘I’ve been counting! And I could have murdered him, disposed of the body, and disappeared without trace by then!’

Dizzy couldn’t help but chuckle at this uncharacteristic violence from a woman who usually avoided stepping on an ant where possible!

For the last week Christi had been staying with her uncle in his Lake District home, intent on impressing the man who had the guardianship of her inheritance with her maturity and ability to handle the considerable amount of money her parents had left in trust for her on their deaths three years ago. Christi was all too aware that if her uncle decided otherwise she would have to wait until she was twenty-five, when the money would come to her automatically. Dizzy could quite see that murdering her uncle and burying him in an unmarked grave could jeopardise that good impression Christi was trying to make!

‘What’s wrong with him?’ She frowned her puzzlement.

‘He’s fusty, dusty, spends all day working on history books that no one’s going to read—–’

‘Oh I don’t know about that,’ Dizzy objected mildly. ‘I found his book on the Romans very interesting—–’

‘I don’t consider you any judge of literature when you can spend half an hour looking at a children’s annual!’ Christi dismissed disgustedly.

And enjoyed every minute of it, too, Dizzy thought with a mischievous grin. But she knew Christi wouldn’t appreciate hearing about that in her present mood. ‘I was just making sure it was a suitable present for a five-year-old,’ she defended without rancour.

‘One of your godchildren, I suppose,’ her friend sighed acknowledgement. ‘How many do you have now?’

‘Six,’ she related proudly. ‘And, in case you’re interested, Sarah loved the annual.’

‘The only thing I’m interested in at the moment is getting away from here,’ Christi groaned. ‘When my uncle isn’t working, he has his nose stuck in a research book. And Castle Haven is exactly that, Dizzy,’ she added incredulously. ‘A huge monstrosity of a castle, stuck in the middle of all this water and mountains. It’s like being in a giant freezer!’ She sounded distraught. ‘I never thought I’d be able to sympathise with a joint of beef! I ask you, Dizzy, whoever heard of wearing a jumper in the house in June!’

‘A castle, hm?’ she repeated interestedly. ‘Is it—–’

‘Dizzy, it’s just a draughty old castle!’ Christi cut in impatiently. ‘It’s stuck out in the middle of nowhere, and if my uncle has any friends in the neighbourhood then I haven’t met them. Good grief, Dizzy, I actually went to bed at nine-thirty last night. Nine thirty!’ she repeated, in case Dizzy hadn’t been able to believe it the first time around—as Christi herself obviously hadn’t!

And she could quite understand why: Christi was a night person, who didn’t usually wake up until ten o’clock in the evening. Things must be more desperate than Dizzy had given Christi credit for!

‘How am I going to convince my uncle I’m a responsible adult, perfectly mature enough to handle my own money, if I give in to this craving I have to put my hands around his throat and strangle the life out of him just to relieve the boredom?’ Christi wailed emotionally.

This time Dizzy held back her chuckle, trying desperately to appreciate the seriousness of the situation. ‘I can see how that might make him have second thoughts,’ she finally said, wryly.

‘He already thinks I’m irresponsible because I dropped out of college to go to drama school,’ Christi told her worriedly.

Dizzy gave a snort of laughter. ‘If he thinks you’re irresponsible, I hate to think what he would make of me! Christi, why don’t you—–’

‘Oh, damn, the gong just sounded for dinner,’ her friend muttered frantically. ‘I’ll have to go, my uncle “deplores tardiness”.’ Her change of voice, to stern reproval, over the last two words indicated that it was a direct quote. ‘Try and come up with a believable excuse for me to come back to London, Dizzy,’ she urged desperately. ‘Before I go completely insane…’

Dizzy rang off more slowly than her friend, her expression thoughtful as she finished preparing the pilchards on toast that was to be her own dinner. She adored the fish, ate them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if she had the chance, and indulged the addiction to the full whenever she was alone, which wasn’t very often. If having two cats and a dog constantly underfoot could be classed as being alone now! She jealously guarded her dinner as all three animals tried to steal it from her plate as she ate; she really would have to have a word with Christi about the deplorable manners of her pets.

She looked around the flat appreciatively, loving the mellow décor and comfortable furniture, mentally thanking Christi for inviting her to stay and care for her pets for her while she was away. If only Gladys would stop trying to steal her pilchards, she grumbled under her breath, even as she tapped a sneaking paw away from her plate.

Feeling grateful that she wasn’t subjected to Christi’s enforced early nights, she pulled a tattered and dog-eared book from her capacious shoulder-bag, opening it to the page she had marked half-way through the seven hundred pages, instantly losing herself in the page-turning historical adventure by one of her favourite authors. She had read the book many times before, but Claudia Laurence knew how to write a book so that it was possible to gain something new from it every time it was read. A reader’s delight!

Two hundred pages—and five hours—later, Dizzy decided it was time to go to bed. She felt as if she had barely fallen asleep when the telephone beside the bed began to ring, and she shot upright in the bed, completely and suddenly awake. She felt half drunk with tiredness as she picked up the receiver.

‘I’ve got it!’ came the eagerly disorientated whisper of a voice.

An obscene telephone call, Dizzy acknowledged disgustedly. ‘Well, now that you’ve got it, you know what you can do with it, don’t you?’ She reached out to replace the receiver.

‘Dizzy!’ came the distressed cry down the telephone line, halting her action. ‘Dizzy, don’t you dare hang up on me!’

She blinked; obscene telephone callers didn’t usually know their victims’ names, did they? Not that she was an expert on the subject—heaven forbid!—but she didn’t think they did. And now that the voice had been raised slightly from that eerie whisper, it did sound vaguely familiar—in fact, it sounded a little like Christi. But why on earth would Christi be calling her at—a quarter past six in the morning? she wondered, as she glanced at the bedside clock. Christi hadn’t been known to surface before at least eight o’clock before—but then, she had never been known to go to bed at nine-thirty before, either!

Dizzy leant up on her elbow, pushing her long hair back from her face. ‘Christi, is that you?’ she yawned.

‘Of course it’s me,’ her friend hissed. ‘Who else would be calling you at this time of the morning?’

The answer to that was so obvious that Dizzy didn’t even attempt to make it. ‘Why are you whispering?’ she asked curiously, still attempting to clear the fog of sleep from her brain.

‘So that no one can hear me!’ came the explosive reply.

Logical, she thought as she yawned again, very logical. ‘Why don’t you want anyone to hear you?’ she asked uninterestedly.

‘Because it’s only six o’clock in the morning!’ Christi said exasperatedly, forgetting to whisper, then muttering self-disgustedly as she realised what she had done.

Dizzy ignored the mutterings; she thought it was best to do so. ‘Why are you telephoning at six o’clock in the morning if it’s going to disturb people?’ she urged sleepily, wishing she hadn’t been one of the people disturbed.

‘Because I’ve come up with a way of getting me out of this place!’ Christi announced triumphantly.

‘Congratulations,’ drawled Dizzy drily. ‘But couldn’t you have waited until a decent hour to let me in on the secret?’

‘No—because you’re going to help get me out!’ her friend said with satisfaction.

‘You want me to bake you a cake with a metal file in it, and send it to you?’ she derided.

Christi groaned at her levity. ‘Can’t you even be serious when you know what trouble I’m in?’

‘Sorry.’ Dizzy sobered. ‘What do you want me to do that will help you escape from the fusty, dusty Zachariah? Sorry,’ she grimaced, as she could sense Christi’s rising anger at her teasing. ‘Go ahead, you have my full attention,’ she encouraged interestedly.

Christi gave a snort that clearly said she doubted that, but she launched into her explanation anyway. ‘It was something you said that gave me the idea, actually,’ she told Dizzy excitedly, hastily lowering her voice as she realised that, in her enthusiasm, she had once again forgotten to whisper. ‘I mean, how can I be considered irresponsible when I’m training for a career, have lived in the same apartment for years, have pets that are well cared for, have—–’

‘I get the picture—you sober citizen, you,’ Dizzy drawled. ‘And, as it is now almost six-thirty in the morning, and I’ve barely had any sleep, do you think you could get to the point?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Christi gave a dismissive sigh as she realised she had been going on a bit. ‘The answer isn’t to show my uncle how responsible I am—–’

‘It isn’t?’ Dizzy frowned; she must have dozed off in the middle of this conversation somewhere, for she had thought Christi’s proving to her uncle that she was more than capable of managing her own monetary affairs was exactly the point!

‘No,’ Christi confirmed impatiently. ‘It’s showing him how irresponsible I’m not!’

From her friend’s triumphant tone as she made the announcement, Dizzy knew this was the place she was supposed to come in and tell her how clever she was being, but so far this still didn’t make a lot of sense to her.

‘Dizzy, you haven’t fallen asleep on me, have you?’ Christi snapped suspiciously at her prolonged silence.

She roused herself wearily. ‘Of course not. And don’t shout, you’ll wake up the household,’ she reminded tiredly.

‘It could do with waking up,’ Christi muttered with feeling.

‘We’ve been through all that,’ Dizzy said drily. ‘I don’t mean to sound unsympathetic, love, but I really can’t understand what’s so terrible about staying with your uncle for a few weeks. And—–’

‘You soon will,’ her friend said with satisfaction.

‘—surely a few early nights aren’t going to—– What do you mean, I soon will?’ Suddenly, sleep didn’t seem so important any more. ‘Christi, what are you up to?’ she prompted sharply, knowing that whatever it was, she probably wasn’t going to like it!

‘Who is letting you make free use of her apartment while she’s out of town?’ Christi prompted calmly.

‘Who is baby-sitting your pets—at the cost of pilchards and solitude!—while you are out of town?’ she instantly returned.

‘Who got up in the middle of the night to open the school dormitory window so that you could climb in off the roof—–’

‘Who forgot to come down to unlock the door and fell asleep until I climbed up and knocked on the window?’ she reminded pointedly.

‘Oh, all right,’ Christi acknowledged impatiently. ‘Maybe that was my fault. But who helped get you out of spending the night in prison the time the police raided that illegal gambling—–’

‘You know very well that I had gone there with a reporter who was doing research for an article,’ she protested.

‘But who came to the police station and managed to convince the police of that? Who got you away from there before it became public knowledge, and your picture appeared on the front page of all the tabloids?’ Christi pounced triumphantly.

‘You did,’ Dizzy conceded heavily. ‘And now I owe you one, right?’

‘Oh, no, Dizzy!’ Her friend sounded genuinely shocked at the suggestion. ‘It isn’t a question of paying me back. I was just trying to point out that we’re friends, and that friends try to help each other when they can.’

Dizzy gave an indulgent smile, easily able to visualise Christi’s earnest expression: that faintly hurt look in enormous blue eyes that dominated the beauty of her face. Christi was tall and elegant, with a natural serenity and kindness; Zachariah Bennett had to be dense not to be able to see that.

Dizzy sighed, freely acknowledging that Christi was the best friend she had ever had. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Come up here and—–’

‘Not that, Christi,’ she protested, visions of being sent to bed at nine-thirty by Christi’s ancient uncle flashing through her mind. A truly free spirit, just the thought of it reminded her too much of her childhood.

‘—show my uncle just what an irresponsible person is!’ Christi finished triumphantly, totally deaf to Dizzy’s protest.

‘Thanks!’ she grimaced ruefully.

‘Don’t go and act all wounded on me,’ her friend chided lightly. ‘You’ve deliberately cultivated your life-style, enjoy having no permanent home, no visible means of support, no real belongings except what you carry about in that cavernous sack you call a shoulder-bag, and the pack you throw on your back.’

‘I admit I like to travel light—–’

‘Travel being the operative word,’ Christi derided. ‘I never knew of anyone wearing out their passport before!’

‘I didn’t wear it out,’ she protested. ‘It just got—a little full,’ she excused dismissively.

‘Exactly,’ Christi said with satisfaction. ‘You’re everything that my uncle would consider irresponsible; drifting through life, staying with friends whenever you get the chance—–’

‘Christi—–’

‘And God knows where you live the rest of the time,’ Christi concluded in a starchily disapproving voice—as if she were quoting verse and chapter from a too-familiar sermon.

As indeed she was! Dizzy had heard those very same words from her father too often not to know where they came from. After hearing the same thing for years, she had taken Christi home with her once as self-defence; but even her friend’s presence hadn’t prevented the usual lecture. Obviously Christi had never forgotten the humiliating experience, either!

‘I thought you also called me friend,’ Dizzy reminded her drily. ‘Although I’m beginning to wonder about that!’ she mocked.

‘My uncle doesn’t have to know that,’ Christi dismissed. ‘We can say you’re just an old school acquaintance of mine who happens to be—–’

‘Drifting through,’ Dizzy finished derisively.

‘Exactly,’ Christi said eagerly. ‘And of course I’m your friend,’ she defended indignantly. ‘Goodness, we know that none of that drivel is true. And, even if it were, it wouldn’t make any difference to those of us that love you. You’re the most generous, giving, totally unselfish—–’

‘Enough, enough,’ she drawled ruefully. ‘When do you want this drifting wastrel of an acquaintance to arrive on the castle doorstep, expecting another hand-out?’ she prompted drily.

‘Today,’ Christi pounced eagerly.

Dizzy had been expecting that, otherwise there would have been no need for this hasty call in what was, to her at least, still the middle of the night. ‘And who will take care of your food-stealing pets if I leave?’ she reminded lightly.

‘Lucas will come in from next door and do that,’ Christi dismissed. ‘They all love him, and he usually does it for me if I go away. And if you hate looking after the cats and dog so much, how come they are always completely spoilt after one of your visits? Last time you came to stay, Gladys and Josephine spent the next week sniffing my food cupboard, looking for your tins of pilchards. And I just bet Henry is sharing your bed right this minute!’ she announced disgustedly.

Dizzy looked down guiltily to the foot of the bed, where the Yorkshire terrier was curled up, asleep, on the quilt. ‘He gets lonely in the kitchen at night,’ she defended. ‘And he has such soulful brown eyes that I don’t have the heart to say no to him.’

‘A pair of soulful brown eyes and loneliness are not reasons to take him into bed with you! He—–Oh, damn, I think I heard someone coming.’ Christi lapsed back into that desperate whispering. ‘I’ll see you later, OK?’ she urged frantically, sounding more and more like a hounded animal.

The impression didn’t in the least endear the idea of going up to the Lake District to Dizzy, to show herself off as some lost cause just so that Zachariah Bennett could say to Christi, ‘Thank God you didn’t turn out like her, here’s your money and welcome to it’!

If it really were going to be as easy as that…

* * *

Dizzy had heard much about the beauty of the Lake District, and as her travels usually took her out of the country, rather than around it, this was the first time she had ever seen this lovely part of England.

But nothing she had heard about the Lake District had prepared her for the scenery before her now. No one had told her she could expect to see naked men, one naked man in particular, as he cavorted about in one of the smaller lakes!

As Christi had said, the man in the flat next door to hers had been only too happy to pet-sit Gladys, Josephine and Henry, and so the only hitch there could have been to her setting off for Castle Haven had neatly been removed.

In the clear light of day—after several more hours’ sleep—Dizzy was less sure than ever that Christi’s plan was a good one. It might work if Zachariah Bennett—the old curmudgeon!—could be made to believe she and Christi were just acquaintances, but the two of them had been friends since their first term together at boarding-school over twelve years ago. The familiarity of a friendship like that might be a little difficult to disguise. A telephone call to Christi to tell her just that had elicited the information that her friend had gone out for the morning with her uncle, and so, not knowing what else to do, Dizzy had set out for the castle. They would just have to hope for the best when she got there.

It had been a pleasant trip up on the train. She might be a free spirit, she thought, but she wasn’t stupid—it was no longer safe to hitch-hike, if it ever had been! Enquiries at the station, when she got off the train, had told her that the castle was about eight miles away and, after the long train journey, stretching her legs for a few miles sounded like a good idea.

The first six miles of her walk had been really enjoyable—the view of this lake was even more so!

She sat on top of one of the hills that surrounded the lake on all sides, unashamedly watching the sleek-bodied man as he cavorted about in the water like a dolphin. Even water-slicked, his hair was discernible as dark blond, with blond highlights that any woman would envy, but which were obviously perfectly natural on this man. From the deep tan of his body, he swam naked like this often. Old Zachariah Bennett would probably have a seizure if he could see the guest, who was going to soon turn up unexpectedly on his doorstep, watching the antics of this naked man. And enjoying it, too!

He really was a very handsome specimen, she thought admiringly as he stepped out of the water to dry off in the sun. He was tall and lithe, and from the look of him he either cut down trees or built roads for a living, for his muscles had been rippling powerfully. Or else he was just a secret weight-lifter. Whatever he was, a fusty scholar like Zachariah Bennett would probably recoil in horror at such virility: the man’s shoulders wide and strong, golden hair glinting on his bronzed chest, his stomach taut and flat, and his hips and thighs… Apollo himself couldn’t have looked better!

Dizzy reluctantly drew herself away from the beauty of the scene as the man stretched out in the sun to dry some more. No doubt he wouldn’t mind at all that she had been admiring him—he wouldn’t have been swimming in a lake where anyone could come along and see him if he did—but she really did have to be getting along to the castle now. It was a pity to spoil the moment, but time was quickly passing, and Christi’s thoughts were probably on the unmarked grave again by now!

But she didn’t forget the man as she walked the last two miles, whistling happily to herself, the day suddenly seeming full of new possibilities. Maybe the man was a local, maybe Christi would know who he was … But, of course, her friend had said she hadn’t met anyone else in the area. What a shame; it might have been interesting meeting the Greek god. It might have helped her irresponsible image along a little more, too, if she could have brought the local womaniser back to the castle to meet the professor.

Not that her image needed any help, she acknowledged ruefully as she glanced down at herself. Her denims were old and patched at the knees, the material faded in the usual places, her T-shirt just as old, but out of shape after numerous washes. She put a self-conscious hand up to the blonde bubbly curls that had escaped the long plait down her spine and that had helped give her her name, framing her small, heart-shaped face that was dominated by green, catlike eyes. Small, just over five feet, with breasts that were slightly too large for her body, and her fly-away blonde hair, she was the perfect ‘dizzy blonde’ image. No doubt she would be Zachariah Bennett’s most unusual house—castle—guest, to date!

Castle Haven proved to be exactly what Christi had claimed it was, a huge turreted castle that seemed totally out of place among the placid lakes and tree-covered hills and mountains that surrounded it on all sides.

Unlike Christi, however, Dizzy found the castle fascinating, and longed to know its history. But she supposed that would never do, not when she was supposed to be showing Zachariah Bennett just how wayward and uncaring the youth of today could be, and, in the process, what a shining example of responsibility his niece was. It would never do to let old Zach know she was probably as interested in history as he was!

The castle was a fitting home for him, as a historian of some repute—Dizzy knew him mainly from his books—and as she drew nearer Dizzy could see that on the outside, at least, it had been maintained in beautiful condition. Writing history books must pay very well! she thought.

The butler who opened the door several minutes after she had pulled the bell—hoping it was ringing somewhere in the depths of the castle—looked as if he might have been here doing this very same thing since the castle had originally been built! Snowy-haired, with an aloofness that was felt rather than physically visible in his thin body and blandly expressionless face, his disapproval of the ‘person’ standing at the huge heavy oak door he had swung open was a tangible thing. Maybe he was old Zachariah himself; probably what he earned as a historian didn’t run to a butler as well as a castle!

‘Hi!’ She gave him her brightest smile, easing her backpack on to one shoulder. ‘My name’s Dizzy James, and I—–’

‘The castle is not open to the public, Miss James,’ he informed her frostily.

She had been going to say ‘I’m a friend of Christi’s’, but his condescending attitude brought out the devil in her. ‘What a pity,’ she drawled. ‘I’m sure you would get thousands of people wanting to tramp all over the place if you decided to change your mind.’ She looked up at him innocently as he stiffened in shock at the suggestion.

His raised eyebrows and pursed lips showed his distaste. ‘Let me give you directions back to the main road,’ he said coldly. ‘You go back the way you just came, and then—–’

‘Oh, but I don’t want to go back to the main road!’ She smiled at him, her eyes gleaming like a cat’s.

‘This is private property, Miss James, and—–’

‘But I’m here to see Christi Bennett,’ she informed him happily.

‘Miss Christi?’ This time his guard was completely down, due to severe shock and horrified disbelief that ‘Miss Christi’ could even know such a person!

Obviously, he was the family butler, after all, and as she had only come here to shock Zachariah Bennett, not upset the whole household, she gave the man in front of her her most engaging smile. It had been known to melt frostier hearts than his, although not always, and never when she really willed it to. This time she was partially successful, although only grudgingly, as the butler slowly opened the door for her to come inside.

He nodded to her to wait where she stood, just inside the huge reception area. ‘I’ll go and tell Miss Christi that you’re here—–’

‘That won’t be necessary, Fredericks.’ Christi came bounding down the wide stairway like a whirlwind, her face flushed with excitement—the first she had known for some time, by the look of the shadows beneath her usually sparkling blue eyes. ‘Dizzy!’ she greeted thankfully, clasping her hands in hers before hugging her tightly.

She allowed Christi the indulgence for several seconds, realising her friend was under severe strain. But all the time she was aware of Fredericks as he watched them with distant curiosity, and so she finally whispered to Christi, ‘Acquaintances, remember?’

Christi stiffened at the reminder, her arms falling back to her sides as she stepped back reluctantly, forcing indifference into her expression. ‘That will be all, thank you, Fredericks,’ she said, turning to the butler. ‘Dizzy, how nice to see you again!’ Her words were the insincerely polite ones of a host having an unwanted guest foisted upon them, although her eyes were dancing with mischief as she looked at Dizzy.

Easily one of the most beautiful women Dizzy had ever seen, with glorious ebony hair and huge blue eyes, and a model-girl figure, Christi wasn’t in the least conceited about her looks, but felt them merely to be her stock-in-trade for the career she had chosen for herself. She had even been warned that being too beautiful could hinder her career, rather than help it, if she was serious about becoming an actress of any repute.

The two women stood grinning at each other once they were alone in the high-ceilinged entrance hall, their breathing echoing hollowly against the grey stone.

‘I thought you weren’t coming.’ Christi finally sighed her relief that she had been proved wrong.

Dizzy’s smile widened. ‘I needed a little time to wake up,’ she teased, reminding her friend of the earliness of her call. ‘Besides, how could I let down the person who probably stopped me being put in jail—at least overnight?’ she mocked, thinking of her friend’s efforts of bribery and corruption.

Christi looked embarrassed. ‘I only—–’

‘What’s going on here?’

Dizzy didn’t need the confirmation of her friend’s suddenly guiltily apprehensive expression to guess that the man who had silently entered the hall through another door was fusty, dusty Zachariah Bennett. He spoke quietly, but nevertheless with a complete assurance that he was entitled to the explanation he demanded. If he had come in on the conversation soon enough to overhear her reference to almost being put in jail, then that wasn’t so surprising!

‘Uncle Zach.’ Christi quickly regained control, crossing to the man as he stood slightly in the shadows beneath the stairway, the door he had used just behind him, probably belonging to the kitchen or cellar, Dizzy thought. ‘I asked you if an old school acquaintance of mine could come to stay,’ Christi reminded lightly.

Dizzy turned to look at her; she had told her uncle of her visit? What had happened to the ‘old acquaintance’ who had just happened to be ‘drifting’ through, had ‘heard Christi was in the area and decided to pay her a call’?

Christi had changed the story without warning her! But she wasn’t able to dwell on that, as Zachariah Bennett at last stepped out of the shadows.

Baggy, and definitely untailored corduroys, a cream shirt that looked more than a little creased beneath the too-large tweed jacket, were exactly the sort of attire she had expected the bookishly austere Professor Zachariah Bennett to wear. But, as her wincing gaze rose, and she saw the gold-streaked blond hair, she knew that the ill-fitting clothing covered the magnificent body of the Greek god she had watched as he had swum naked not half an hour ago!

CHAPTER TWO

COULD this man have a twin brother, a man who looked exactly as he did, but who was the type to go skinny-dipping? That could be the only possible explanation for Zachariah Bennett having the same curiously light brown hair beneath gold that her Greek god had possessed. But Christi had told her numerous times that her uncle Zachariah was her only living relative, so that couldn’t be the answer to the similarity. And Dizzy refused to believe there was another man in the area with the same beautiful-coloured hair. Which only left the one possibility she had started with: Zachariah Bennett was her naked Greek god.

Who would have believed that such a magnificent body lay beneath those hopelessly shapeless clothes? Obviously not Christi, or she wouldn’t have called her uncle ‘fusty and dusty’. Or maybe she would. Somehow, Christi had given her the impression that her uncle was an elderly man, but the mid-thirties this man must be wasn’t that, either. At least, it didn’t seem so to Dizzy. Maybe, to Christi, he just seemed old because he was her uncle. Whatever the reason, Dizzy knew that no man with a body like this one had, powerfully muscled and so blatantly male, could ever be fusty or dusty!

To give Christi her due, she had never seen him like that, and the rest of his appearance—his clothed appearance, that was—didn’t hint at anything other than the impression of a professor of history. Oh, his face was handsome enough, even if it was set in austere lines right now, his jaw square and determined, with a barest hint of a cleft in the chin, his mouth a tautly drawn line, although his lips looked as if they might be sensual if he ever relaxed them enough to let them be—and Dizzy knew from her view of him earlier that he could be very relaxed when he chose to be!

Black-rimmed glasses covered his eyes, but, even so, she could see they were a beautiful light brown, looking like golden warm honey. The lovely sun-streaked hair, that had been drying in attractive curls on his forehead earlier, was now brushed severely to the side and back. He only needed a pipe to complete the picture of the professor of history that he was!

Even as the amused thought crossed her mind, she saw that his right hand was patting absently at the bulging pocket of his tweed jacket, lean fingers pulling out a well-used pipe that he clasped between strong white teeth as he began a vague hunt for his matches.

The only thing wrong with the image was that Dizzy couldn’t get the memory of the naked Greek god out of her mind!

Try as she might—and she had to admit she wasn’t trying too hard—she couldn’t forget the absolute vision of him as he stood in the sunlight, letting the warmth of the day dry him off after his swim. If she looked closely at him now she could even see a couple of damp tendrils of hair behind his ears, where the sun hadn’t touched him. And she knew she would never be able to feel in awe of him the way Christi obviously was; she could feel aware of him, yes, but never in awe of him!

But right now she had to try and fill in the gaps to Christi’s new story about her visit. Obviously she was no longer ‘drifting through’, but what was she doing here? Nothing to recommend her, if what Christi was saying was to be believed!

‘Poor dear,’ she was telling her uncle. ‘When Dizzy told me she had nowhere else to go…’ She shook her head sadly.

Dizzy winced at the obvious implication; surely Christi was laying it on a bit thick, even if it was to show ‘Uncle Zach’ how kind and responsible she was!

She felt Zachariah Bennett’s disapproving gaze on her, inwardly cringing at the role she was having to play in the name of friendship. In any other circumstances, she would have enjoyed meeting this man, would have been full of questions. Playing what was now turning out to be little better than a parasite didn’t sit well with her.

She gave Zachariah Bennett a bright, meaningless smile, not able to meet his penetrating gaze, which was probably convincing him she was shiftless, too! ‘Christi can be so kind,’ she said non-committally, still floundering in the dark a little.

Eyes, that should have been as warm to look at as the honey they resembled, frosted over as Zachariah Bennett’s gaze raked over her with disgust. ‘Kindness is not always the wisest thing,’ he bit out coldly. ‘In fact, in some circumstances, it is better to be cruel.’

‘Oh no, Uncle Zach,’ Christi protested with wide-eyed innocence. ‘I told you, I couldn’t bear to think of Dizzy having to—well, perhaps sleep on a park bench somewhere.’ She sounded distraught at the idea.

As well she might do! What amazed Dizzy was that the possibility had even been mentioned between Christi and her uncle. She had been doing Christi the favour by pet-sitting her flat in the first place; there were plenty of other places she could have been. She had thought then that she was helping out a friend, but from the contemptuous look on the professor’s face he believed every sad word of woe which Christi was feeding him!

‘I’m sure I would have been able to find—somewhere else to go, if you hadn’t been able to take me in,’ she grated, giving Christi a warning look. Her friend was going a little too far, she felt!

‘I’m sure you would,’ Zachariah Bennett acknowledged distantly. ‘But my niece considers she should help out an old school acquaintance when she can.’

Christi was visibly preening at the praise, and Dizzy just wanted to shake her. Not only was she a drifter and a wastrel, she was supposed to be a parasite, too!

As soon as she got Christi on her own she was going to tell her exactly what she thought of this new plan of hers. She might have ‘cultivated’ her life-style, but she had never taken advantage of anyone’s kindness. And she had to admit she didn’t like Zachariah Bennett thinking that she had; even the dark-rimmed glasses didn’t hide the contempt for her in his eyes. Usually she didn’t give a damn what people thought of her, or the way she lived, but with this man she did. And she wasn’t about to analyse that too deeply.

‘And as, for the moment, this is my niece’s home,’ he continued, ‘may I also extend an invitation for you to stay with us,’ he added grudgingly. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, Christi, Miss—–’

‘James,’ she supplied, realising, as he hesitated, that Christi hadn’t told him everything about her. Her expression was bland as she sensed her friend’s sharp gaze upon her. ‘Dizzy James,’ she enlarged.

‘Miss James,’ he nodded dismissively, puffing distractedly on the pipe, now that he had finally managed to get it lit. ‘I’ll leave you two to get re-acquainted, while I go and change.’ He nodded, as if satisfied with his decision.

‘Uncle Zach has been out bird-watching,’ Christi explained indulgently.

Something suddenly seemed to be stuck in Dizzy’s throat. She coughed chokingly, tears streamed down her cheeks, for the air couldn’t reach her lungs. Bird-watching? Any birds that had been in Zachariah Bennett’s vicinity half an hour ago had been watching him, curious of the unusual antics of the human in their midst!

‘It’s all right. I’m all right,’ she gasped when she could finally find the strength to speak, firmly discouraging Christi from administering any more of the hearty slaps to the back she had been giving her since she first began to choke. ‘Really, Christi, I’m fine.’ She held up her hands defensively as her friend still looked undecided about administering one more slap for luck.

‘The mention of ornithology seemed to have a strange effect on you?’ Zachariah Bennett raised dark blond brows questioningly, once Dizzy was calm.

She kept her expression deliberately bland as she looked up at him. ‘Not at all, Professor Bennett. In fact, the reason I was slightly later in arriving than I had said I would be was because I became interested in watching a bird myself.’ A golden eagle, she decided.

The honey-brown gaze sharpened. ‘Really?’ he prompted harshly.

Still he didn’t invite her to use the familiarity of his first name but, as he now seemed to think she had only said she had been bird-watching as a means of insinuating herself into his good graces, perhaps that was understandable! The sooner she and Christi had a private word the better.

‘Oh yes,’ she nodded. ‘Christi will tell you, I’m very much into bird-watching.’

Christi gave her a glaring look. ‘I really don’t know your likes and dislikes that well, Dizzy,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘It must be—how many years, since we last met?’

Dizzy gave her friend a reproachful frown. For all his absently distracted ways, she knew the professor to be a very intelligent man, and she and Christi were going to need to be very much on their guard to keep up the pretence Christi was getting them into more and more by the minute.

‘I really can’t remember,’ she muttered warningly. ‘But I’m sure it can’t be that long ago.’

Christi gave an affected laugh. ‘Dizzy seems to have moved around so much since we left school that she’s forgotten time altogether,’ she confided lightly to her uncle. ‘Come on, Dizzy.’ Her smile lacked warmth as she turned to her, her expression purposeful. ‘I’ll show you up to the room you’re to use during your stay.’

Her friend’s grip on her arm was only just short of vicelike, and Dizzy winced slightly, while trying to give the professor a reassuring smile. ‘I do appreciate your kind invitation.’

He gave her a look which clearly indicated that if it had been left to him she would have been looking for the park bench, nodding curtly before moving agilely up the wide stone stairway.

Dizzy instantly turned to Christi as she pulled her towards the stairs. ‘What do you—–’

‘Ssh,’ her friend warned, looking frantically about them to see if they could be overheard. ‘We can talk when we get to your room,’ she muttered.

‘But—–’

‘Dizzy, I am not in the mood to be argued with!’ Her voice rose shrilly.

She did sound more than a little strained—and she was probably going to be even more so once Dizzy told her she didn’t think this plan of hers could possibly work.

If only she could have spoken to Christi when she’d called earlier, or at least before she’d had to meet the uncle! The way things stood at the moment, she had no choice but to continue with the plan Christi had started before she’d arrived. Unfortunately, it was a plan she felt was doomed to failure, although Christi didn’t agree with her.

They had strolled up the stairway together, Dizzy having assured Fredericks, when he quietly appeared back in the entrance hall, that she could manage her own shoulder-bag and backpack. She smiled, as if she hadn’t seen his scandalised look that that was all of her luggage.

Christi gave her a running commentary as they went. ‘Only the east wing has been renovated for habitation so far,’ she pointed out, then explained why the rest of the castle was closed off to them. ‘Uncle Zach has the work done as he gets the money. He must get paid very well to have the work done at all,’ she added in a whispered aside. ‘But what he’s had done so far is lovely,’ she continued in her normal voice.

For her uncle’s benefit, Dizzy acknowledged wryly. There wasn’t an angle possible that Christi wasn’t playing, and it was all so unnecessary, when just being herself would probably have made the best impression.

The renovation that had so far been done to the castle was very impressive, and looked very much as it must have when it was first built in the fifteenth century. Dizzy realised it also had some of the discomfort that must have gone with it at that time, as she gave an involuntary shiver from the cold. Obviously Zachariah Bennett had gone for complete authenticity, omitting the central heating that might have made the castle more appealing. She could only hope that authenticity hadn’t gone as far as the plumbing; carrying buckets of water up the stairs for her bath didn’t exactly appeal to her!

‘I’ve given you the bedroom next to mine.’ Christi threw open the heavy oak door.

Dizzy was mesmerised from the first, from the tapestry that was the height and breadth of one wall, to the four-poster bed that totally dominated the huge room.

As she walked dazedly into the room, she touched the brocade curtains on the bed wonderingly, knowing by their thickness that they would pull completely around the sides and bottom of the bed, affording its occupant complete privacy. Her eyes aglow with pleasure, she walked across the room to gaze out of one of the long, narrow windows that graced two walls of the room. The view was magnificent—lakes and mountains as far as the eye could see. Heat warmed her cheeks as she realised that the small lake Zachariah Bennett had swum in earlier was just behind the first hill to the east, that it might even be part of the land that obviously adjoined the castle.

She was never going to get tired of the scenery if every time she looked out of this window she remembered Zachariah Bennett’s nakedness so vividly!

‘—so far, don’t you think?’

She turned back to Christi, realising she had missed half the conversation in her musing over Zachariah Bennett. From the sudden impatience in Christi’s expression, she had realised it, too!

‘I said,’ her friend bit out with slow emphasis, ‘I think everything is going well so far, don’t you? Or, at least, it would be, if you would enter into the spirit of the thing a bit more,’ she added critically.

‘Christi, I don’t think this is going to work.’ Dizzy put all thoughts of Zachariah Bennett’s nakedness from her mind, as she concentrated on convincing Christi that her plan wasn’t such a good one, after all.

Thankfully, she noted, as she turned back into the room, that an adjoining door revealed a fully fitted bathroom. It wouldn’t be as good as a naked swim in a lake, but a bath would certainly refresh her!

‘It’s obvious you’re trying to convince your uncle I’m some sort of leech,’ she sighed. ‘But, personally, I think you’ve gone over the top. You’re making me out to be little more than a parasite to everyone I’ve ever known. No wonder he disliked me on sight!’ she grimaced.

‘Oh, that didn’t have anything to do with being a leech,’ Christi shook her head with certainty.

Her expression became wary. ‘Then what did it have to do with?’

Christi shrugged. ‘Henry.’

‘Henry?’ she repeated in a puzzled voice. ‘What does your dog have to do with this?’

‘Nothing, really.’ Christi began to smile, starting to relax, at last.

‘Then—Christi, what is going on?’ she demanded impatiently.

Her friend was really having trouble not openly laughing now. ‘Oh, Dizzy, it couldn’t have worked out better if I’d planned it that way!’ she said excitedly. ‘Of course I didn’t,’ she assured hastily.

‘What are you talking about?’ she prompted warily, sure that, whatever ‘it’ was, it didn’t augur well for her!

Christi grimaced. ‘You remember this morning that I told you I heard someone coming, and quickly ended our call?’

‘Vaguely,’ she dismissed with a sigh. ‘I don’t function too well at six o’clock in the morning!’

‘Well, apparently my uncle does,’ Christi said drily. ‘He was the one I heard. It seems he likes to take long walks first thing in the morning, before starting work for the day. He asked who I was talking to on the telephone.’ She pulled a face. ‘And so I explained that you had got my number from another schoolfriend, and asked if you could come and stay.’

That part of things seemed to be clear enough; it certainly explained the change of plans about her supposed arrival at the castle. ‘OK, I accept that you had no choice about that,’ she said wearily. ‘Although I think you might have warned me about it,’ she added sternly.

‘I haven’t had a minute to myself since I called you at six o’clock!’ Christi protested indignantly. ‘Uncle Zach insisted I join him for his walk, and then, when we got back, he watched over me while I ate a nauseously enormous breakfast.’ She shuddered at the memory and Dizzy remembered that she was ordinarily only a coffee drinker for her first meal of the day. ‘He thinks I don’t eat enough,’ she grimaced. ‘Then, of all things, he decided we hadn’t spent enough time together during my stay, and dragged me off for a tour of the area. I have never been so bored in my entire life, Dizzy. He really—–’

‘Christi, this is all very interesting,’ she cut in with a decided lack of sympathy. ‘But we seem to have forgotten Henry,’ she reminded.

‘Henry?’ Her friend frowned. ‘What on earth—oh! Oh, yes.’ Her expression cleared, and she bit her lip to once again stop herself from smiling. ‘Uncle Zach was quite shocked at the idea of your taking a man into your bed just because he has soulful brown eyes and looks lonely!’

‘Taking a man—–’ Dizzy stared at her in horrified disbelief. ‘What man?’ She shook her head dazedly.

Christi was choking with laughter. ‘Surely you remember what you said on the telephone about—–’

‘—about letting your dog sleep at the foot of my bed,’ she finished explosively, as she did remember. ‘Are you telling me your uncle actually thinks Henry is a man?’ Her eyes narrowed.

‘Isn’t it hilarious?’ Her friend chuckled.

‘Oh, hysterical,’ she scorned. ‘I may start screaming at any moment!’ she groaned.

‘Oh, come on, Dizzy,’ Christi chided lightly. ‘It’s very funny.’

‘Not if you’re me. Or Henry,’ she added disgustedly. ‘We’ll just have to hope his girlfriend down the road doesn’t get to hear about this!’

‘Hey,’ Christi’s eyes lit up with mischief as she ignored Dizzy’s nonsensical ramblings, ‘maybe what’s really worrying my uncle is that he has brown eyes and must get very lonely here in this mausoleum!’

‘His eyes aren’t brown, they’re golden,’ Dizzy told her absently, colour warming her cheeks as she realised what she had said.

Luckily, Christi didn’t seem to have taken any undue interest in the comment. It was testament to how disturbed by this situation her friend was that she hadn’t noticed Dizzy’s very personal observation about her uncle. Usually, Christi never ceased trying to interest her in one man or another, chagrined that Dizzy seemed able to keep her life man-free, while she somehow managed to attract a cluster of them, more often than not at the same time!

Dizzy could only breathe a sigh of relief at Christi’s lack of attention just now, although she recognised it was mainly because her friend couldn’t see that her uncle was an attractive man. But then, Christi hadn’t seen him the way she had!

She gave an impatient sigh. ‘Couldn’t you have just explained to your uncle that Henry is your dog?’

‘Of course not.’ Christi sounded irritated. ‘If I had done that, he would have realised you were pet-sitting at my flat. We aren’t supposed to have seen each other for years,’ she reminded. ‘And you were supposed to have called me this morning!’

‘Oh, I realise that.’ She shook her head. ‘You really went over the top with that “park bench” story,’ she said disgustedly. ‘Especially as I’m sure your uncle must have heard my comment about your having kept me out of spending a night in jail!’

‘This isn’t all my fault,’ Christi returned caustically. ‘You were the one who told him your name is Dizzy James!’

‘It is my name,’ she said firmly. ‘Professionally, at least. Besides, do you really think your uncle would have believed your story of my destitution if he had realised who my father is?’ she drawled derisively.

‘You’re right.’ Christi chewed worriedly on her bottom lip, then she grimaced. ‘I told him your family lost all their money shortly after you left school. That was very quick thinking on your part, Dizzy,’ she said thankfully.

Dizzy raised her eyes heavenwards. She hadn’t given her name as James to try and further Christi’s ridiculous plan, and Christi would have realised that if she was thinking in the least bit straight. Unfortunately, she wasn’t. But Dizzy had given up using her father’s name years ago, as she preferred not to be connected to him.

‘I’m glad you approve,’ she derided drily. ‘Now, what are we going to do about this mess you’ve got us into by telling your uncle these outrageous lies?’ She quirked blonde brows.

Christi looked wounded, and then a little sheepish, as Dizzy continued to meet her gaze mockingly. ‘OK, so I’ll have to think a little more before I speak,’ she accepted uncomfortably. ‘But other than that, everything is working out perfectly,’ she defended. ‘Since I told him about you, and the circumstances behind my inviting you to stay, my uncle hasn’t mentioned the fact that I’m going to Drama School, and that I don’t have the same boyfriend for more than a month at a time, sometimes less than that!’

‘I’m glad to have been of service!’ Dizzy’s sarcasm was barely veiled.

Christi, however, seemed to have missed it completely in her feeling of self-satisfaction. ‘I knew you would be.’ She hugged her. ‘Oh, Dizzy, it’s so good to have you here!’ she told her enthusiastically.

Her expression softened at her friend’s genuine pleasure. ‘It’s good to be here,’ she said wryly.

‘It’s going to be so much more fun now.’ Christi smiled her delight.

Poor pet, thought Dizzy, she really looked as if she had been having a miserable time of it, although the vivacity was fast returning to her enormous blue eyes. ‘I thought there was nothing to do,’ she teased.

‘There isn’t,’ Christi grimaced. ‘But I can never remember a dull moment in your company in the past.’ She brightened.

‘I’m getting too old to be the class clown,’ Dizzy dismissed absently, her gaze drawn towards the window that faced in the direction of the lake she had seen Zachariah Bennett in earlier. ‘But, talking of things to do,’ she turned interestedly back to Christi, ‘does your uncle go—bird-watching, often?’ She arched blonde brows expectantly.

‘Most afternoons,’ Christi confirmed in a bored voice. ‘He says it helps relax him after a morning of intensely draining work!’

Skinny-dipping should certainly blow away the cobwebs!

‘I don’t honestly know why he bothers,’ Christi added disgustedly. ‘He only comes back and buries himself in work for another couple of hours!’

After his nude swim, he probably felt completely invigorated! ‘It must be expensive maintaining a castle,’ she pointed out softly.

‘I suppose so,’ Christi conceded grudgingly. ‘But if he would just release my money I would be willing to help him out.’

Dizzy gave her friend a reproving look. ‘I have a feeling your uncle takes his guardianship role very seriously, so for goodness’ sake don’t even think about offering him any money. I’m sure he would consider it a bribe.’ And if his disapproving eyebrows rose any higher they would disappear into his hairline!

‘I know that,’ Christi dismissed impatiently. ‘Or else I would have done it an hour after my arrival!’ she added mischievously.

‘I’m sure it can’t be that bad here.’ Dizzy shook her head ruefully, sure that a man like Zachariah Bennett would have an extensive library. Her fingers itched to touch all those wonderful books.

‘Give it a few days,’ Christi assured her. ‘Even school was fun compared to this—and you know how I loved school!’ she grimaced.

The daughter of a very happily married couple who unfortunately travelled a great deal, because Christi’s father had been an archaeologist, Christi had been completely miserable at being sent away to boarding-school at only eight. It had been their mutual unhappiness with the situation they had both been thrust into that had initially drawn Dizzy and Christi together that first term. Over the years, they had become as close as sisters, helping each other through those difficult years. Dizzy had been able to keep Christi’s spirits up, not because she didn’t dislike the school as much as her friend did, but because, to her, it was preferable to being at home. Anything had been preferable to that!

‘Look, I’ll give you a few minutes’ peace from my chattering while you shower and change—into something equally as disreputable, please!’ she encouraged gleefully. ‘And then I’ll show you around—what there is to see!’ She made a face.

Dizzy nodded, her smile fading once her friend had left, her attention once again drawn to that window that faced east.

Just over that small tree-covered hill lay the lake where Zachariah Bennett had bathed naked. And, if Christi was right about the ‘bird-watching’, he did the same thing every afternoon…

CHAPTER THREE

WHY hadn’t she told Christi about seeing her uncle bathing nude?

The two of them had been together for a couple of hours before they parted to change for dinner, and yet she had remained silent about what she had seen at the lake. And she knew that knowing something like that would certainly help to relax Christi. How could Zachariah Bennett preach to Christi about irresponsibility when only hours ago he had been bathing in a spot where anyone could come along and witness it? She had since learnt that the lake area was part of the castle estate, but, even so, the act hardly fitted in with the professor’s ‘fusty, dusty’ image.

And that was partly what kept her silent.

Christi was right when she claimed Dizzy had deliberately cultivated her life-style of having no tangible ties, where, quite literally, she carried all that she owned on her back. And that also meant, quite contrary to what Zachariah Bennett had been led to believe, that there had been no men in her life. Somehow, admitting to Christi what she had seen that afternoon wouldn’t make that true any more. Christi would want to know all the intimate details, and most prominent in her memory of that afternoon was her own response and attraction to a man she had labelled a ‘Greek god’—Christi’s uncle, a man who believed she went to bed with a man for no better reason than he looked lonely and had soulful brown eyes!

She had spent years evading emotional entanglement, having a small circle of friends that she knew she could rely on completely, and who could rely on her, too. But, like Christi, most of those friends would have liked to see her happily in love, with perhaps a family of her own. Only her lightly dismissive attitude towards men had kept them from anyserious matchmaking on her behalf. And she felt far from lightly dismissive where Zachariah Bennett was concerned!

And so she hugged the memory of that afternoon to herself, wondering how long it would be before she gave in to the temptation to return to that lake one afternoon during her stay…

‘Knollsley Hall in Cornwall,’ remarked an abrupt voice from behind her.

Dizzy spun around as if she had been caught in the act of stealing the family silver, rather than merely gazing up at one of the paintings that adorned the stone walls in the room that had been made into quite a comfortable lounge.

Having showered shortly after she arrived, she had merely had a quick wash and changed her clothes when she had returned from the tour of the castle. Consequently Christi was still relaxing in the bath when she was ready to go down to dinner, and so she had come down without her, indulging in a more leisurely look around. Christi’s whistle-stop—and obviously uninterested—tour had merely brushed the surface of it.

The first things to capture her attention in the lounge were the magnificent paintings on the walls, in particular, the one she now stood in front of, and which Zachariah Bennett had just supplied information about.

She had changed into one of the only two dresses she owned, the ‘simple little black number’ that was supposed to be suitable for any occasion, but which she dragged about with her merely because it didn’t get creased in her backpack!

Unfortunately, Christi had been right about the ‘freezer’ temperatures in the castle, and so the sleeveless style of the dress wasn’t ‘suitable’ at all! The only visible heating she had seen so far was the fire roaring away in the cavernous grate in this room, and for all its size it didn’t even take the chill off the room. At least she had left her long hair loose tonight, so that her ears weren’t actually freezing off! However, the wild tumble of blonde curls gave her the look of a wild wanton. No doubt Christi would be delighted with her appearance, although the professor looked far from pleased!

The black evening suit and white shirt were a definite improvement on his previous appearance. At least, they would have been, if the suit had been in the least tailored to the magnificence of his body, and the collar of his shirt wasn’t sticking up on one side! The fact that his hair was newly washed, and once again brushed severely back from his face, didn’t add to his attraction either, and his pipe seemed to have gone out long ago, although it was still clamped between his teeth to the side of his mouth.

To Dizzy, he just looked all the more endearing because of his lack of the sophisticated perfection that most of the men she had met in the past seemed to consider a must if they were to be successful with women. Maybe if she hadn’t seen how beautiful he was beneath his ill-fitting clothing she might have accepted the face-value impression of the absent-minded professor, but her first sight of him had made that impossible.

‘It’s the house of the MP Martin Ellington-James,’ he added, breaking her prolonged silence.

Her indulgent smile faded as she turned dutifully back to the painting of the gothic manor house, the artist having captured the cold ugliness of it perfectly. ‘Quite impressive,’ she said non-committally.

‘Valerie Sherman is the artist,’ he continued, as if even the polite conversation was a strain to him.

Dizzy turned back to him, transfixed, as she found his attention was riveted on the painting, those golden eyes aglow with admiration. Her breath caught in her throat at how breathtakingly handsome he was, and she couldn’t help wondering what it must feel like if he looked at a woman in that way. She would like to see him without his glasses, and couldn’t help wondering if he really needed to wear them when he wasn’t working, or if they were some sort of shield to him. His eye-sight had seemed perfectly all right this afternoon as he swam in the lake… Colour heated her cheeks as, once again, her thoughts unconsciously returned to that time.

‘She used to live there, I believe.’ He spoke tersely now.

Dizzy blinked, giving a self-conscious grimace as she realised Zachariah Bennett had stopped looking at the painting and was now looking at her—and was obviously wondering what she found so fascinating about him. She doubted he would look quite so impatiently polite if he knew the truth about that!

‘I believe you’re right,’ she confirmed drily.

Honey-gold eyes widened. ‘You know something about paintings and their artists?’

‘Something,’ she nodded wryly.

He couldn’t completely keep the surprise out of his expression. ‘You like Miss Sherman’s paintings?’ He seemed relieved to have found a subject he could talk to her about while they waited for Christi to join them.

‘I appreciate good paintings,’ she evaded, not really wanting to get into a discussion about this particular one. ‘I don’t think there can be any doubt that Valerie Sherman is a talented artist,’ she added abruptly. ‘She’s certainly captured the sheer ugliness of Knollsley Hall perfectly!’

His attention returned to the painting. ‘Perhaps it is a little—–’

‘Grotesque,’ Dizzy supplied abruptly.

‘Possibly,’ he nodded. ‘Although it’s haunting, too.’

The reason Dizzy hated the painting of Knollsley Hall was because it was too lifelike!

‘I have other Shermans,’ the professor told her lightly. ‘Ones that perhaps aren’t so—gothic. You must let me show them to you some time.’

It was the politely meaningless offer of a host to a guest in his house—even an unwanted one—and Dizzy accepted it as such. He had no real desire to show her the Valerie Sherman paintings, and she certainly had no interest in seeing them.

‘I’d like that.’ She turned away from the disturbing painting. ‘I—oh, excuse me,’ she said awkwardly, as an involuntary shiver racked her body. ‘I—it’s a little chilly in here,’ she excused with a grimace.

A ghost of a smile lightened his austere features. ‘Not at all what you’re used to, I’m sure.’

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