Kitabı oku: «His Perfect Partner», sayfa 3

CHAPTER THREE

NAOMI was over the moon about the last-minute reprieve for the Grange, and couldn’t see anything wrong with the proposal.

‘The place will still be in the family, where it belongs,’ she replied firmly, serving Rachel breakfast the following morning. ‘That’s the main thing. You might not have complete control but, in the circumstances, it’s just about the best any of us could have hoped for. You say this man has guaranteed us jobs in the new venture?’

‘Yes.’ Rachel spooned a piece of grapefruit into her mouth discontentedly.’ If you want them. The new regime might be a little different from the old one, however.’

‘He’s a bit of a looker, isn’t he?’ Naomi bustled around the large kitchen with an ebullient air. She grinned at Rachel, her brown eyes twinkling mischievously. ‘If I were thirty years younger! Actually, I’ll tell you who he reminds me of…’ she continued. ‘You remember that French boy—the one you had a bit of a crush on?’

‘What?’ Rachel pushed the half-eaten grapefruit away from her. ‘Oh…yes,’ she murmured.

‘This man’s different, of course—’

‘In what way?’ Rachel couldn’t keep the edge from her voice.

Naomi cast her a frowning glance. ‘Well…he’s rich, for one thing. Sophisticated. And he’s not French.’

‘No?’

‘Is he, then? There wasn’t a hint of accent when he spoke to me the other day.’ Naomi, cloth in hand, began to wipe over the kitchen surfaces with vigour. ‘Very cultural tones. I wish more people spoke the Queen’s English the way that young man does.’ She paused, staring across the kitchen at a point above Rachel’s head.

‘Yes…’ she murmured, ‘quite the sort of man your aunt would have approved of. He’ll not do anything to harm the old place.’

‘You think so?’ Rachel struggled to keep her irritation under control.

‘Well, he won’t be allowed to, will he? After all there is such a thing as planning and good taste. And you’re going to be here in charge of everything.’ Naomi waved her cloth in Rachel’s direction. ‘No, it will turn out all right, you’ll see. I’ve got a good feeling about all of this.’

Rachel rose from the kitchen table, and carried her bowl and cup across to the dishwasher. She could hardly believe the conversation they were having. The awful irony of it! A small part of her was tempted to reveal the truth of Jean-Luc’s identity, but only a small part. Just thinking about him made her feel miserably confused, angry, upset…

Naomi would find out about him eventually, she was bound to, but Rachel would be more than happy if that occasion was a long time in the future. When—if there ever was going to be a when—she herself had come to terms with Jean-Luc’s involvement in her life, albeit on a purely commercial basis.

‘I’ve got to get ready,’ Rachel murmured. ‘I don’t want to be late.’

‘Your navy suit is cleaned and pressed,’ Naomi called. ‘Oh, and by the way, did you see my note?’

Rachel paused at the kitchen door. ‘What note?’

‘I left it on the hall table. Shaun called again last evening.’

‘Did he?’ Rachel frowned. ‘What did you tell him?’

‘That you were out. He says he’ll drop by,’ Naomi added. ‘I must say, he sounded more than a little upset. Mind you he was pleased when I told him about the new developments.’

Naomi, never particularly sensitive to other people’s moods, ignored Rachel’s look of dismay and continued cheerfully. ‘I said the situation was really looking far more hopeful with regard to the house and estate, and that things were moving at a pace, and that all the tension that had been affecting you lately would soon be gone and that might mean that you and he—’

‘Naomi…’ Rachel ran a hand through her tousled blonde locks, debating whether now was a good time to tell her that she really had to start minding her own business—even if Shaun was her great-nephew. ‘You shouldn’t have talked like that to Shaun. I don’t want him knowing my business and, apart from anything else, nothing’s settled yet, and even if it were—’

‘But it will be.’ Naomi resumed her cleaning with a satisfied smile. ‘It will be very soon though, won’t it?’

‘Yes, but that’s not the point…’ Rachel released a tense breath. She wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to cope with all the tension and anxiety the day ahead was undoubtedly going to bring. Having to spend time with Jean-Luc was going to be difficult enough, without the complication of Shaun trying to make contact again.

‘I’ll get dressed.’ Rachel gave up. It was no use trying to make Naomi see the error of her ways now. She glanced at the kitchen clock. She didn’t have the time for anything more—there were far more pressing things on the agenda.

The rest of the day disappeared in a blur of anxious trepidation. The trustees of her aunt’s estate, solicitors, the bank—everyone—were more than happy with the arrangement offered by Jean-Luc and his powerful company, and, despite Rachel’s innumerable reservations, they urged her to accept. In financial terms at least, it was clearly an offer that couldn’t be refused.

She fled home from the offices in town once the papers were signed and sealed. It was late afternoon, and she desperately needed time on her own to come to terms with all that had happened—and all that was about to happen in the future.

She hardly dared to look too far ahead. It was impossible to predict anything. Jean-Luc’s deal was generous—she had been made to see that by the bank manager and the trustees. Profit, despite the accusations she’d flung at him last night, seemed to be taking a back seat. So what were his motives in all of this? Why come to the rescue? What did he hope to gain?

The questions kept spinning round and round in Rachel’s head until she almost felt dizzy with the speed of them. The biggest and most important question was, of course, why he had returned. Why?

She loved the old orchard—one of her favourite places on the estate. The buds were just beginning to show white on the gnarled apple trees. Rachel, having changed from the business suit of the day, was now dressed in a snug woollen cardigan and dark trousers in a matching shade of green. She walked slowly, breathing in the fresh spring air and thinking about what needed to be done.

She’d have to hand in her notice at the hotel almost immediately. From the talk at the meeting this morning, Jean-Luc wanted everything to proceed as swiftly as possible. The Grange was to open by the end of summer, and that meant a lot of work—both for the planners and building contractors, as well as for herself, if everything was going to be ready on time.

Rachel thought about recruitment—that was going to be high on the list of priorities. People were the mainstay of any organisation and she needed to make sure they got the best that were available. And what about the look of the place? She paused, turning to glance across at the imposing exterior of her home. Country house, yes, but not too country house, not too predictable. The Grange needed to have its own style, something people would remember long after they had left.

The daffodils were at their best, crisp and cheerful, great swathes of them as far as the eye could see. Rachel inhaled a steadying breath. She was going too fast. It had only been a day since Jean-Luc had dropped this bombshell on her, and here she was, planning and organising things already.

A lone blackbird warbled tunefully in a branch overhead. Rachel looked up and watched him sing, glad of the momentary diversion. Turning the Grange into a hotel was a good idea. She could admit that now she was over the initial shock. It was just Jean-Luc’s involvement that was so difficult to handle. She needed to focus on her own professional expertise to prevent herself from dwelling on the personal minefield which undoubtedly lay ahead, to concentrate on what she was good at, on what she loved doing—that was the best way.

She had to be strong. OK, so as soon as she’d set eyes on him it had been as if the clock hadn’t moved a second. She felt…Rachel slowly shook her head. She felt just the same attraction for him as she had ever done, purely physical attraction, of course—she didn’t like him any more, certainly didn’t love him the way she once had, she told herself firmly—but this…thrill she felt whenever she set eyes on him, that was bad enough.

Did he have an ulterior motive? Of course he did. She had grown up fast once she had realized that their affair had been little more than a holiday romance—an intense one undoubtedly, passionate, overwhelming, but one that had held no future. She had been made to understand the full extent of her naïvety with every lonely day that had passed. Gone was the time when she trusted so easily , accepted what people said at face value—Jean-Luc had made sure of that.

Jean-Luc walked resolutely through the orchard, almost oblivious of his surroundings, his gaze fixed on Rachel’s figure ahead. There were a thousand things he could be doing—all of them important but not, he thought as he watched her from a distance, as important or urgent as this…

She looked so beautiful standing there. So perfect. What was she thinking about? He saw her turn and look up at the Grange. Yes, it would be this place, her home. The thing that mattered most. Jean-Luc watched her quietly, dwelling on thoughts about the past…

Would things have turned out differently if he hadn’t returned home to France for those few days? It was a question that he had asked himself over and over again, and one to which he simply had no answer.

On the Friday evening he had received an urgent call from home, telling him that his father was ill. Rachel had been away for the weekend, visiting an old friend. He himself had encouraged her to go, he remembered, had been so confident, so naïve, so foolishly in love…He had rushed home to France, leaving a note for Rachel. There had been no doubt in his mind that she would be here at the Grange, waiting for him, on his return—no doubt at all. When she hadn’t been…

Six years was a long time, but he could still picture her aunt’s rather triumphant expression as she announced that Rachel, in his absence, had decided to take an unexpected, but much-wanted trip to America to visit distant relations, and would not be returning to the Grange for some weeks.

His reaction to this extraordinary piece of news was marked with concern and not a little suspicion. He was young and angry and in love—it didn’t take a genius to work out that her aunt had played a powerful part in instigating what felt like their enforced separation, and there was an angry exchange between himself and the old woman.

His dismissal didn’t bother him—it was something that would have happened sooner rather than later, given the old woman’s growing dislike of him. What did bother him was the silence from Rachel. He spent hours searching high and low, without finding any evidence of a letter or note. Not a word of explanation as to why she should go away.

How long was it before he accepted her absence as the rejection it was? Days, weeks, months, maybe never?

She wrote to him eventually once he was back home in France, a letter, postmarked England, which caused him so much pain and anguish that to reflect upon it even now…Jean-Luc’s jaw tightened. It had been full of thanks and passionate gratitude, but also heartless in its dismissal of a future he had thought they were both destined to share.

He had considered going back—talking to her face to face—but his pain had still been too raw, his anger at being rejected too intense to contemplate such a move. He had buried everything deep down, closing the lid firmly on the experience—pretending almost that it had never happened, forcing himself to get on with his life so that he could forget her. Except, of course, it hadn’t been that easy.

He inhaled deeply and continued walking.

‘Naomi said I’d find you here.’

Rachel swung around at the sound of Jean-Luc’s voice. Like her, he had changed out of the dark business suit of the day, and was now dressed in less formal attire. She tried not to notice how much more he looked like the old Jean-Luc as he walked towards her, clad in denims and a chunky beige sweater that accentuated his tanned skin and dark features.

‘What do you want?’ She had hoped she might be more able to control her antagonistic tendencies now that the first shock of seeing Jean-Luc again had faded, but they resurfaced as soon as she heard the sound of his voice and found herself being caught by the formidable intensity of his brown eyes.

‘Now, is that any way to talk to your partner?’

‘Am I supposed to find that remark amusing?’ Rachel replied coolly. ‘We’re not partners—not in any sense.’

‘Clearly you weren’t paying as much attention as I supposed this morning.’ His expression revealed cool humour. He turned to look at the Grange, mellow in the soft afternoon light. ‘This is a joint venture.’

‘On paper, maybe!’

‘On paper, in reality.’ Jean-Luc raised dark brows. ‘In every way there is. Oh, incidentally, Naomi’s worried about your intake of food. She asked me to tell you that there’s a cold platter waiting for you if you feel in need of sustenance.’

‘I don’t!’ Rachel’s voice was taut and hard. ‘I haven’t got much of an appetite at the moment!’

‘It’s the turmoil and upheaval of the past few weeks…’ Jean-Luc’s voice was smooth and assured. ‘You’ll begin to feel better now that everything’s settled.’

‘Settled?’ Rachel looked at his handsome face in astonishment. ‘Are you serious?’

His eyes held hers for a long moment. ‘Completely.’

Rachel gave a derisive shake of her head and turned away because to look into those hypnotic eyes was torture of the worst kind. ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.’

‘You make it sound like some kind of assault.’

‘Why have you come here?’ Rachel spun round to face him. There was a hint of desperation in her expression. ‘Why?’

‘We’ve covered this ground before.’

‘Have we? Oh, yes! You were just passing and you happened to notice I was in need of a couple of million pounds and so you thought—hey, why not help an old friend?’ Rachel’s voice sounded harsh. She closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled slowly. She didn’t want to feel this way, all knotted and twisted and tormented inside.

‘We were never old friends.’

‘No.’ Her voice was low, a little ragged.

‘My motives—what you imagine them to be—are irrelevant.’ Jean-Luc’s tone was chillingly smooth. ‘We have entered into a contract, one that is fair and which you have no need to be worried about—’

‘Worried?’ Rachel’s voice was quiet. She paced the orchard. ‘Why should I be worried?’ she asked wearily. ‘My home is about to be rearranged around my ears. I’m being forced into leaving a job that I love! What on earth have I got to worry about?’

‘Very little now that I’ve come to your rescue!’ Jean-Luc replied sharply. ‘I don’t expect or want gratitude, but an attempt at making the best of the situation would seem like the sensible thing to do.’ He considered her flushed face for a moment. ‘Can you stand there before me and swear that there is not a part of you that’s excited at the prospect of this challenge?’

Rachel hesitated for a moment, before replying as honestly as she could. ‘OK, then, yes, you’re right. I have been giving the practicalities some thought, and it is going to be a challenge, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy at your involvement—not in any way, shape or form,’ she added, just so that he would be left in no doubt. ‘There were other people to consider—people who supported Aunt Clara over many years. I had no choice.’

She spoke coolly, forcing herself to sound as businesslike as possible, holding herself upright as she looked straight into his far too handsome face. Acting—acting all the time.

‘I agree your options were limited,’ Jean-Luc agreed, ‘but I am confident that our partnership will work effectively. Deep down, you must know that you have done the right thing.’

‘By allowing you back into my life?’ Rachel’s response was automatic, a thought spoken aloud.

‘Is this how it’s going to be every time I come here?’ Jean-Luc queried. ‘I had hoped to keep our personal—’

‘You…you won’t be visiting often?’ The agonising prospect stilled Rachel’s mobile features. Her voice was strained. ‘Surely there’s no need for that?’

‘There’s every need.’ His voice was firm. ‘I am investing a considerable sum of money into this project. I can see now that there is going to be a need for careful monitoring.’

‘But surely you don’t need to…I mean, you have staff to do that sort of thing.’

‘Yes, of course. But, you see…’ Jean-Luc’s mouth twisted chillingly. ‘I suddenly find myself with a need for a change, a new challenge. It’s been a long while since I’ve been involved in a project at grass-roots level. Clinching deals, holding board meetings, discussing finance—all of them give a certain amount of satisfaction, but now…’ he looked at her consideringly ‘…I find that it is not enough. Stunned, Rachel—or simply overwhelmed with excitement at the prospect?’

‘But you told me…’ She cleared her throat and tried again, hardening her voice as best she could. ‘You led me to believe that there would be little personal involvement.’

‘I’ve changed my mind.’ Jean-Luc’s mouth curved into an assured smile. He glanced around the orchard. ‘Years dull the memory—I had forgotten how beautiful this place can be.’

‘Why are you doing this to me?’ Rachel whispered. ‘Why are you being so—?’

‘Determined?’ Dark brows were raised in query. A bitter smile marred the attractive line of his mouth. ‘Gone is the weak-willed youth who cut the grass and tended the flower borders. When I left this microcosm of Olde England all those years ago I promised myself several things—most of those promises have helped me become the man you see before you now.’

‘An unprincipled and arrogant swine, you mean?’ Rachel said unsteadily. She was trembling with anger but, of course, there was more to it than that. Jean-Luc looked lethal, standing before her. The strength of him, the unleashed virility and passion which was so much an integral part of him, was like a tangible force that kept her rooted to the spot.

‘Most possibly.’ His voice was low, controlled, but not without a startling intensity sent shivers down Rachel’s spine. ‘I don’t want to fight,’ he added. ‘You have to believe that if we are to make this thing work.’

It took Rachel several moments before she could reply. ‘I…I want to believe it…’ She looked into his handsome face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. ‘But you must understand that this…is difficult for me. After all these years…’ Rachel shook her head. She steeled herself to be brave. ‘I never expected to see you again,’ she whispered.

‘Nor I you.’

There was a long moment of silence. Jean-Luc seemed to be debating whether to say something. Was he going to apologise for the way he had treated her all those years ago? Rachel wondered. Did she want that? Would it make her feel any better?

But when he eventually spoke there was precious little sign of remorse or apology. ‘You’re going to need to move out while the Grange is being refurbished,’ he announced . ‘Have you thought about that? Where you might stay?’

Rachel shook her head. She should have known. He wasn’t the sort of man to apologise. ‘No,’ she breathed, trying hard to focus on the here and now instead of what had once been. ‘No, I haven’t.’ She turned from him, releasing a sigh of tension.

‘There’s the old lodge,’ she murmured, glancing through the trees. ‘It’s not in a bad state of repair…’ Now that the idea had entered her head, it seemed a good one. ‘Yes,’ she added in stronger tones, ‘that would be suitable. It’s always been well maintained I used to ask Aunt Clara why she didn’t bother to rent it out.’

‘She clearly wasn’t keen on making money.’ Jean-Luc’s voice was dry. ‘Only spending it.’

Rachel chose to ignore this comment, true as it was. ‘I’ll stay in the lodge,’ she confirmed. ‘It will be perfect.’

‘Are you sure? You said it was in a good state of repair, but when was the last time you visited it?’

‘Oh…’ Rachel lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. ‘A couple of years ago, I suppose.’ She remembered the occasion well. She had been dwelling in the past, as she was wont to do when she felt miserable, thinking of Jean-Luc. Remembering. The lodge had been one of their places—or at least that was how she had thought of it. She had avoided it like the plague for the previous few years. Not that it had made much difference—she had still spent far too long thinking about him.

‘A couple of years?’ Jean-Luc looked sceptical. ‘I think that maybe we ought to pay it a visit.’

Rachel didn’t bother to hide her surprise. ‘Now?’

‘Why not?’

She could think of a hundred reasons. ‘You’ve surely got better things to do with your time.’

‘Not for the rest of the day I haven’t. Is the key still kept in the usual place?’

He remembered. And he didn’t mind Rachel knowing that he did. She tried to banish the memory of candlelit evenings, spent lying together in each other’s arms on rugs and cushions purloined from the big house. ‘Yes…’ She tried hard not let him see how difficult this was for her. ‘As far as I know.’

‘Let’s go, then.’

It was a mistake, of course. She should have just said no to Jean-Luc. He didn’t care. Not at all. This latest torture was, for all she knew, another clever, rather more subtle way of making her suffer.