Kitabı oku: «8 Magnificent Millionaires», sayfa 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

TWO days later, as she made her way up to the topmost floor of the house to open windows and dust pictures, Liadan marvelled at the fact that she was still working for Adrian Jacobs. She was either the biggest fool who ever lived or simply some kind of martyr, because after the agony of hearing words designed to hurt her and ‘enlighten’ her as to what he insisted was his true character, she had wrestled with two conflicting desires. A very understandable need for self-preservation where her heart was concerned, possibly leading her to hand in her notice, and a surprisingly compelling desire to stay and tough it out—because, quite frankly, how much worse could it get? For two whole days now the atmosphere between them both had been as jagged as broken glass. When she looked at him, he looked away. When she had to ask him anything he answered her in as few words as possible. And when he’d finished speaking, his hostile brown eyes would be coldly dismissive and hurt Liadan all over again, like a rusty blade digging into a wound not yet healed.

Apart from him telling her this morning that he’d arranged for her car to be brought back from the garage ‘some time today’ and to insist upon taking her to the hospital himself this afternoon to have her stitches removed, their conversation had been minimal. Now the thought of having to spend time with him driving to and from the hospital was like anticipating root-canal work at the dentist.

Telling herself over and over again that he hadn’t meant what he’d said, that he really was a good man underneath that coldly forbidding façade, Liadan forced herself to believe that she’d made the right decision in staying. And she didn’t think that he used people as Petra Collins did. Adrian Jacobs was fighting demons from his past and all he was doing by assuming an air of hostility was adding another protective layer to prevent Liadan from getting close. But until he found a way to reconcile himself with the past, and see that there was light round the edges of his darkness, then he would continue to live out the rest of his life in torment.

Raising the colourful feather duster to dust down a venerable old gilt-framed print of horses and hounds off on a hunt, Liadan determinedly applied herself to the task in hand, grimacing at the very idea that things might get much worse before they got better.

‘Liadan Willow? Dr Thomas will see you now.’

As she stood up to follow the slim, bright-eyed nurse into the designated room, the familiar hospital smells of disinfectant and fear making her stomach lurch, Adrian put his hand on Liadan’s arm to waylay her. ‘Want me to come in with you?’

Meeting his intense, concerned gaze with a little shock of surprise, she drew back her arm and shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine, thanks. I don’t need you to hold my hand.’

Escaping before he could make some cryptic remark in response, Liadan was appalled at the ache that arose in her throat. She wasn’t a coward and could handle having a few stitches removed without needing a babysitter, but, all things being equal, she wouldn’t have been averse to having Adrian hold her hand. But that was before his crude remark about wanting her in his bed…Her thoughts broke off at his graphic description of how. Right now she wouldn’t let him hold her hand if he were the last man on earth!

‘Did the doctor say you’d have a scar?’

As he negotiated the purring Mercedes out of a bend in the country road, Adrian glanced sidelong at Liadan. She was staring straight ahead, her exquisite profile determinedly concentrating on the spot on the horizon where the blue-grey of the sky met the darker slate of the road. If she was being deliberately aloof, he knew he only had himself to blame. It had been a miracle that she hadn’t walked out that night there and then, and, against his better judgement, Adrian had been unable to deny his relief that she hadn’t. What would she think, he asked himself, if she knew it was getting to be almost torture for him to be around her? That he had deliberately distanced himself from her both mentally and physically because right now he didn’t trust himself to cope with this passionate attraction that he had developed for her? That if she could see into the vivid pictures of his mind she would discover for herself his amazing proclivity for sexual fantasy as far as she was concerned? Because in all of his fantasies, Liadan was the star…

‘I didn’t ask. My fringe would hide it anyway.’

‘Don’t you care?’

‘Unlike some people, I don’t believe you have to be perfect to be attractive. A little scar’s not going to damage me psychologically. I’m just glad I didn’t do any worse damage.’ To Adrian’s surprise, Liadan turned her head to regard him with a steady blue gaze. ‘Besides…flawed people are always more interesting, don’t you think?’

What was she getting at exactly? Was she having a snipe at him, believing him to be one of those people who desired physical perfection in a mate? She couldn’t be more wrong if she did, Adrian thought vehemently. What he found attractive was somebody real. Outwardly perfect good looks with nothing of substance inside left him cold.

‘All right, Liadan. What’s bothering you? I sense some underlying agenda here. Perhaps we should stop and talk?’

Before Liadan realised his intention, Adrian had pulled into a lay-by and switched off the engine. Now her heart started to clang like the toll of a great bell inside her chest as the small, confined space in the car seemed to grow rapidly smaller.

‘I thought you didn’t talk with the hired help?’ she said sarcastically, blue eyes challenging him to refute her statement. For a few anxious moments she watched his hands curl around the leather-covered steering wheel as if garnering control, and she couldn’t help noting the strong, well-defined knuckles and the sprinkling of dark hairs that covered them with a little jolt in her chest. Remembering how gentle his fingers had been as they’d caressed her jaw when he’d kissed her, heat rippled, unguarded, right through her body in a heady rush.

‘You want me to apologise for what I said the other night?’

‘If you have to ask me if I want you to, then the answer is no. I don’t want you to apologise. You don’t even have to put yourself out to be overly pleasant—judging by your mood the last two days, it’s obviously not something that you consider a priority. But don’t worry, because I can handle it. I don’t need your approval or admiration to do a good job. My only stake in this relationship is the fact that I work for you and I would like to keep things that way so that I can pay my mortgage on my cottage. Simple.’

‘Then let me assure you right away that you’re in no danger of losing your job, Liadan. You don’t think I’d willingly let go someone who can play the piano like an angel in a hurry, do you?’

Venturing a glance from beneath her curling red-gold lashes, Liadan was deeply disturbed by the fact that Adrian was smiling. Did he know what a deadly piece of weaponry in the battle of the sexes that smile was? Or how thoroughly it submerged her senses in scorching, sensual heat and guilty, guilty pleasure?

‘Let me remind you, you didn’t hire me to entertain you with my piano playing,’ she said tartly. ‘You hired me to take care of your house.’

‘And me. Don’t forget that very important little fact.’

‘Perhaps what you need is a mother, in that case,’ she snapped.

‘What I need,’ Adrian emphasised huskily, ‘is you in my bed, Liadan. But as that would definitely be exceeding the bounds of our contract and you are obviously anxious to keep our relationship purely professional, I suppose I will have to make do with having you as my housekeeper. But I want you to know the sacrifice is killing me.’

With those wide, muscular shoulders and the devil’s own twinkle in his wicked dark eyes, he was temptation personified and Liadan warned her thoughts not to speculate just how the sacrifice was killing him. Already she was undone just sitting beside him in the car. If she didn’t make a huge effort to steer the situation into safer waters she might find herself telling him that she wouldn’t mind exceeding the bounds of their contract, and then where would she be?

‘We should be getting home. I’ve got laundry to do, and shopping and—’

‘Liadan?’

‘What?’

‘Never mind. Let’s get back, shall we?’

Changing his mind abruptly about what he’d been going to say, Adrian started the engine, then steered the car expertly out of the lay-by back onto the road. Secretly alarmed at the fact that he had almost succumbed to a very weak moment and told Liadan the cause of his torment, he congratulated himself for being strong enough to pull back. How could this pretty, inexperienced girl help him in any way other than easing a purely physical ache? She couldn’t, he realised with bitterness. End of story.

‘Taking the opportunity to get some fresh air, lass?’ George leant against his shovel and observed her thoughtfully as Liadan came up the path towards him. Instead of her long tweed coat to keep out the cold, she wore a soft, light blue suede jacket over a white roll-necked sweater with figure-hugging black jeans. With her long hair scooped up in a very fetching top-knot, she looked as pretty as a picture to the older man’s doting gaze. ‘Saw Mr Jacobs drive by about ten minutes ago. Gone into town, has he?’

Glancing round at the picturesque scene that met her eyes, at rich green winter gardens that were starting to reveal their beauty now that the snow had finally gone, Liadan was more than glad that she’d ridden the storm and kept her job. If Adrian continued to maintain what he deemed a professional distance then she ought to be thankful, not unhappy. When all was said and done, no matter how much she found herself attracted to her brooding, aloof employer, she was realistic enough to know that there could be no ‘happy ever after’ where they were concerned. If she let herself become more intimate with him, all it would do would set up an even worse restlessness inside Liadan than she was coping with already and make her yearn for the fulfilment of a dream that was clearly impossible. She’d already wasted eighteen long months waiting for Michael to make up his mind about her—she wouldn’t do the same with Adrian. Not that she believed for even a second that he would want anything more than a short, hot affair with her…

‘It’s such a glorious day,’ she confessed, smiling, ‘I couldn’t resist playing hookey.’

‘You’re far too young to be confined to that big old house,’ George agreed. ‘Fancy taking a walk with me? I’ll show you around a bit.’

‘Oh, I’d love that!’ Liadan enthused, her heart lifting at the prospect.

The gardens stretched much further afield than she had ever imagined. Path after path revealed something new—treasures like the orangery, a grotto with hundreds upon hundreds of seashells embedded deep within its walls, and winter blooms including snow-drops and crocuses in breathtaking abundance. Enchanted at nearly every turn, Liadan forgot her cares and concerns as she completely succumbed to the magic of Adrian’s gardens and George’s quietly authoritative garden lore.

‘People often make the mistake of thinking they can control the garden, but what they soon learn is that the garden controls them. It takes you over completely. Watering, weeding, digging, pruning, spraying, it becomes an obsession after a while. One I wouldn’t willingly give up and that’s the truth.’

‘I can tell that you love it,’ Liadan commented with a smile, ‘but don’t you find all this work a bit much for just yourself and your son?’

Somehow, Liadan couldn’t bring herself to say ‘Steven’. She was still wary and smarting from their last upsetting encounter. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be around today, either. Her blue eyes darted from side to side just to check.

‘Funny you should bring that up. I’ve had a touch of the old arthritis in my knees for the past few months and I was going to mention to Mr Jacobs how I could probably do with another hand around the place to help. Specially leading up to spring. There’s a lot to be done.’

‘Then you should definitely mention it. I’m sure he’d be only too willing to get you the help you need, George.’

‘I’m sure you’re right, lass. Perhaps I will have a talk with him. To tell you the truth, I don’t think Steven is a natural gardener. He’s got his mind on too many other useless things, that boy.’

Perfectly understanding why George had reservations about the younger man’s commitment levels, Liadan nodded in sympathy.

‘Thanks for showing me around, George. It’s been a great way to spend an illicit half-hour. I’ve had a lovely time. Best go in now, though; I need to think about what I’m going to do for dinner.’

‘You go ahead, lass. Feel free to walk about the place whenever you feel the need. I’m always around if you need to know anything about the garden. By the way, I’m glad that story about Mr Jacobs has died down in the papers. She’s a bad ’un, that Collins woman, for telling such lies.’ Tipping his hat, George looked distant for a moment before he jammed his hands into the big patch pockets of his jerkin and headed back down the terracotta bricked path he had walked with Liadan.

Careful not to dislodge any of the papers that littered Adrian’s writing table, Liadan picked up the drained cup and saucer and added it to the tray she’d left on the piano. She was about to vacate the study when she caught a glimpse of an opened newspaper jutting out from the side of the desk that Adrian had his computer on, and instinctively moved towards it.

‘Actress retracts abortion claim,’ she read with thumping heart, alongside a picture of Adrian and his solicitor Edward Barry, taken outside on that awful day when reporters had camped out on his doorstep. Putting down the tray, Liadan sat down in the leather chair opposite the desk and read further. When she got to the part where she learned that Petra Collins and Adrian had comforted each other after her divorce and the brutal, untimely death of Adrian’s fiancée Nicole Wilson, in a terrorist attack on a foreign embassy, she let the paper flutter down unheeded into her lap.

Staring into space for a long moment to gather her thoughts, Liadan felt vindicated in the flood of relief and shock that swept through her body. His fiancée had been killed. That was why he had locked himself away from the rest of humanity, and that was no doubt why he was so bitter. Liadan didn’t have to be a genius to know that Adrian blamed himself for Nicole’s death. She also didn’t have to read the words a little further down the page where Adrian had been quoted at the time of the attack as saying, ‘It should have been me,’ to know that he made himself entirely responsible for what had happened to his fiancée.

On top of that, she read that Petra Collins was ‘extremely regretful’ that she’d taken ‘wrong advice’ and spitefully embellished her brief liaison with Adrian Jacobs to further her own career. Liadan’s relief knew no bounds. Adrian was innocent of all the slander that had been directed towards him, including his own bitter assertion that he was responsible for his fiancée’s death. Despite his savage denial to the contrary, he was a good man…

The echo of the doorknocker resounding through the house just then made Liadan jerk round in shock. Quickly gathering up the paper, folding it, then placing it carefully beside the computer, she went back to the piano to fetch her tray, then hurried out of the study, down the corridor and out into the hall.

Leaving the tray on a little cherry-wood side table that was home to a beautiful Chinese-style patterned vase, she patted down her wayward hair, straightened the hem of her sweater and went to answer the door.

‘Can I come in?’

‘I—no, you can’t! What is it, Mr Ferrers? What do you want this time?’

Staring into Steven Ferrers’ defiant gaze, she suddenly felt as if her stomach had a lead weight inside it. As the distinct smell of sour alcohol floated up to her nostrils Liadan’s fingers curled more tightly round the edges of the door, all her senses on red alert.

‘You and I need to have a little talk, Miss Willow.’ He drawled her name as if it disgusted him and the fingers of chilling cold fear that had crept round her skin grew immediately icier.

‘I’m sorry, but I have nothing to say to you. Now if you’ll just let me—’

The force of his hand grabbing the door and jerking it wide almost sent Liadan flying. As she struggled to right herself Steven swept through the door and pinned her against the wall, his face pressed dangerously close to her own so that the sour smell of booze wafting down at her almost made her sick.

‘Let me go! What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

‘Ice princess, that’s what you are…just the type that gets my goat. Think you’re too good for someone like me, don’t you? You’d rather consort with the likes of that murderer Jacobs!’

‘What are you talking about? He’s not a murderer!’ Shoving against his chest with all her might, Liadan made little impression on Steven Ferrers’ strength. He was slim but hard muscled and she was no match for him. She knew it with a sinking heart. No matter how much she pushed and shoved, he wasn’t going to let her go…

‘Said he was responsible for killing his girlfriend, didn’t he? Said he went back to the Jeep and left her there on the pavement for a bomb to kill her!’

‘That doesn’t make him a murderer, you idiot! Now let me go before you get into real trouble. If your father finds out he’ll be—’

‘Bitch!’ At the mention of his father, Steven’s eyes narrowed to two menacing slits and with no warning he raised his hand and struck Liadan hard across the face. As she reeled from the blow tears started to her eyes and her heart started to pump with stark, cold dread. There was no one around to hear her call for help, she realised. Adrian had gone out and George could have been anywhere. The gardens were huge and rambling. If he was in one of the greenhouses he’d be even less likely to hear her shouts for help.

‘You asked for it, princess. You should have been nicer to me and then you wouldn’t have got hurt.’ His words slurred, Steven put his face closer to hers, paying no attention to her continuing struggle to free herself. Spying the large ceramic vase on the table she’d set the tray on, just inches away from where she stood, Liadan saw a sudden chance to get away. But Steven was pinning her arms to her side as he tried to kiss her and she couldn’t free them.

She would have to try another tack. The chances of it working might be slim, but she had to try because the consequences if she didn’t hardly bore contemplation.

‘You’re right,’ she breathed huskily, lowering her voice. ‘I should have been nicer to you. You’re right. It does get lonely out here. A girl needs—a girl needs someone to keep her warm.’

‘That’s better. I knew you could be sweet if you wanted to. Now stop talking and kiss me.’

‘You’re holding me too tightly. Just let me free my hands, will you? I can wrap my arms around your neck and k-kiss you much better.’ Barely daring to breathe, Liadan tried to make her eyes look wide and seductive as she forced herself to smile up into Steven’s threatening eyes. Would he fall for her little ruse? God help her if he didn’t…Her face still burning from his blow, she’d never prayed harder for divine intervention than she did at that moment.

Miraculously, Steven briefly let her go. In what seemed an interminably long split second, Liadan immediately reached out to the side for the vase, grabbed it and brought it crashing down on the side of his skull. With a drunken groan he clutched his head before sliding bonelessly down to the black and white checked floor, and, without another glance, Liadan made herself run for all she was worth out of the house.