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Authors: Kim Lawrence

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BOOK: An Innocent Affair
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‘Really? I'd have given much shorter odds—a sure thing wouldn't be too wide of the mark.' These words were accompanied by an Arctic blast from the open door, which was warm in comparison to the frigid tone.

‘Alex, you're early.'

‘Obviously.' The clipped word spoke volumes.

‘I don't know what your problem is, friend—'

‘I'm not your friend,' Alex responded, stating what was already obvious to Hope. Hostility was oozing out of every pore. She didn't need to be psychic to see what
conclusion he'd jumped to, walking in and finding her kissing Lloyd.

‘Don't speak to Lloyd like that!' Out of dismay and confusion, Hope was emerging furiously angry. If she'd been wondering if Alex had changed his opinion of her, this little display was a very eloquent answer. I was a fool to think it would be any other way, she told herself bitterly. My God, he
wants
to think I'm some sort of trollop.

‘I'll speak to
Lloyd
how the hell I like!'

‘Now just hold on—' Lloyd began angrily.

‘Shut up!' they both yelled in unison. Blue eyes clashed with grey as they recognised their shared sentiments.

‘Just go, Lloyd,' Hope managed in a much calmer voice.

‘I'm not leaving you with
him,
' Lloyd replied firmly, casting Alex a look of mistrust. ‘God, Hope, you haven't got yourself mixed up with him, have you?'

Hope wished with all her heart she could deny this. It was easy to see why he was reluctant to leave her, she reflected. Alex did look a thoroughly dangerous proposition. His features were as hard as granite and the coiled tension in his body emphasised the physical threat he could represent.

‘Lloyd's not as stupid as he looks, Hope—he doesn't trust you. Hell, it must be tough to have a girlfriend who's likely to jump into bed with the first male to knock on the door,' he observed sympathetically.

‘Only if there's nothing better on TV.'

Hope still had hold of a bunch of Lloyd's coat material in her fist, and she had felt him stiffen in outrage at this deliberate provocation. Alex was spoiling for a fight, and she had to protect Lloyd from the consequences of any chivalrous action he might be needled
into taking. Lloyd might be a large man, but she had no doubt he wasn't a match for Alex. He was soft, sedentary and nice—attributes that were noticeably absent in Alex.

‘Listen, Lloyd,' she said urgently, ‘I want you to go, please. Don't worry about him.' She cast Alex a cold look of distaste. ‘He's all mouth and muscle—most of it between his ears. The only things we'll be slinging are insults. And as Alex's opinion of anything is irrelevant to me, the only injury I'm going to sustain is an earache.'

‘Are you sure?' asked Lloyd doubtfully.

‘Is he trying to suggest I'd hit a woman?' At another time in another situation Alex's male outrage might have made her smile. Right now she thought she'd never smile again.

‘He won't touch me,' she told Lloyd. ‘But you're quite likely to end up with a bloody nose,' she predicted confidently. ‘And, no, I'm not suggesting you're scared. But, on a more practical note, do you think a black eye is in keeping with your image? Is it Friday you're on the coast-to-coast chat show?' This little reminder had an immediately sobering effect.

Lloyd looked indecisive. Alex watched his brief wrestle with his conscience with an expression of scorn.

‘Well, if you're sure…?'

‘Since when did I start needing anyone to fight my battles?' She pressed her lips warmly to his and moved towards the door, but Alex's bulk was effectively blocking it. ‘Do you mind?' she said haughtily.

The way he clicked his heels and inclined his head was filled with mockery. ‘Aren't you going to ask me to leave?'

And give him the opportunity of refusing? No chance. ‘Not before I've told you
exactly
what I think of you, and then it won't be a request.' She saw the momentary
surprise in his eyes. Yes, the offensive was definitely the way to go. If Alex was expecting her to meekly stand there and accept all the vile things he would undoubtedly fling at her, he could forget it!

‘The suspense is killing me.'

‘Don't raise my hopes,' she hissed. She pinned a smile on her lips as she turned to bid Lloyd farewell.

He'd been listening to their swift interchange with a troubled expression. The undercurrents were enough to make him feel as if he'd outstayed his welcome.

‘Safe journey, and as I said, give my love to Shirley.'

‘I feel bad leaving you…'

‘To say I'm a big girl would be an understatement.'

Lloyd stepped out into the icy farmyard. ‘I don't know what your problem is,' he shouted to Alex. ‘But this girl is pure gold, and if you can't see that you're blind!'

Hope gave a last wave and closed the door. The expression she glimpsed on Alex's face as she turned gave her the impression he was surprised by the vehemence of Lloyd's parting shot.

‘Who's Shirley?'

She hadn't expected that, and for an instant she was thrown into confusion. Since Lloyd had given the all-clear she'd been planning when and how to tell Alex about Shirley. Whilst it might have been nice if he'd not needed explanations, her practical nature had accepted it was unrealistic to expect this.

‘Lloyd's mother,' she lied perversely.

It hurt to recall how recently she'd decided that bed would be the best place to tell him the whole story. Tell him how nice and extraordinarily ordinary Shirley was; tell him how it had been a very sensitive time for her son, who had political aspirations, how being associated with a very public divorce might have ruined his chances. Any wild ideas she'd had when he walked in
of telling him the truth when he'd calmed down had long gone. She felt too betrayed by his distrust to want to offer explanations any more.

‘Don't tell me he's taken you home to the family.'

His scorn banked up her sense of desolation. Nothing she could say or do was going to change his mind. A perverse vindictive streak in her wanted him to dig himself deeper. She wanted to think of him squirming when he learnt the truth, as he inevitably would. If he dared to come crawling back she'd take great delight in laughing at him, she decided confidently.

‘I've met them,' she replied truthfully. Lloyd had roped her into persuading his niece to finish her education before she embarked on a modelling career. The whole family had been embarrassingly grateful.

‘Did you tell him the bed was still warm from me, or doesn't he care?' In his mind's eye he could see the tumbled bedclothes. ‘What sort of warped relationship do you two have?' he asked in disgust. ‘It must be a pretty big carrot he's dangling this time if you're willing to…'

‘Willing to what, Alex?' she asked, with a coolness that hid her growing anger and disgust. His self-righteous attitude was really getting to her. ‘Willing to take him to my bed, not you? Aren't you guilty of making some pretty big assumptions? What makes you think that would be a sacrifice?'

Alex caught his breath sharply. The thought of another man's name on her tongue as her pale body convulsed in the throes of passion made a red mist dance before his eyes. His hands clenched and unclenched as he fought for control. ‘If you're trying to tell me I come second best to
him,
' he spat contemptuously, ‘don't waste your breath.'

‘Oh, Alex,' she taunted gently, ‘don't take it so per
sonally. You've probably done me a favour,' she mused thoughtfully. ‘I think I was in danger of taking what I had for granted. I was in danger of becoming blasé about cultured, sophisticated men. But I don't really belong here any more.'

‘Glad to have been of service.'

The vicious satisfaction she'd felt as she'd seen her words find their mark dissipated. It could be I've gone too far, she reflected, feeling for the table behind her legs. The expression in his eyes made her wish she had the false security of the table between them. She'd primed a bomb and now she didn't know how to defuse it.

‘Why make excuses, Hope?' he said in a dangerously quiet tone. ‘It's just sex you like. I was wrong to take it personally. It's not just me you can't get enough of. To think I thought I'd been wrong about you.' A spasm of self-contempt contorted his taut features. ‘I had my apology all rehearsed.' The nerve beside his mouth jerked erratically.

‘How dare you be so sanctimonious?' she cried, sick to the stomach. He'd let
her
down, not the other way around. It was his distrust that had come between them. ‘Sex is healthy and natural so long as things are going the way you want. So long as I play by your rules. Aren't you being just a tad perverse, Alex? Wasn't my reputation half of the attraction, if you're honest? Know what I think?' she flung at him. ‘I think under all that disgust you're plain and simply jealous as hell!'

He moved towards her and she didn't have the space or mobility to escape. ‘Oh, you're right, angel.' He pushed his face up to hers and grinned savagely through clenched teeth. ‘I am. But don't get your hopes up. I wouldn't touch you with a barge-pole. Even if my stom
ach could bear it, women with the morals of an alley cat are a health hazard these days—literally.'

She winced as the door slammed behind him. She felt too drained to cry. Numb and strangely empty. Falling in love wasn't the occasion for joy and celebration she'd always naively expected. Love sucks! she thought, wiping a solitary tear from her face with the sleeve of her sweater.

CHAPTER SIX

H
OPE
flicked on the angled lamp beside her bed. Three-thirty. She shivered as the cold night air penetrated the thin cotton of her nightshirt. Reluctantly she swung her legs out of bed and her bare foot blindly sought her slipper whilst she lifted her crutches from their resting place beside the bedpost.

The newborn lamb Fred Wilson had pleaded with her to temporarily foster needed feeding. Hope didn't mind—it had always been one of the nicer tasks around the farm.

She cried out in shock as her foot was plunged into icy water. Drawing her foot back to the bed, she peered over the side. ‘Oh, God!' Several inches of icy water were swirling sullenly over the floor. ‘I don't believe this,' she muttered, her pulses racing in panic.

The impulse to draw the covers over her head and pretend nothing had happened was strong. That didn't work when you tried it earlier, she reminded herself sourly. Telling herself she
wasn't
devastated hadn't prevented her eyes being puffy in the aftermath of last evening's orgy of abject misery—an orgy that had lasted deep into the night!.

Gritting her teeth, she hopped to the opposite side of the room, her plastered leg extended before her. She sat on the edge of her father's desk and picked up the telephone receiver. As much as it galled her, there was no way she could cope with the present emergency with her leg in plaster. Pride would have to take second place to practicality on this occasion.

‘Anna, thank goodness.' The phone had been speedily answered. ‘Sorry if I woke you. Oh, you were feeding the babies. Of course there's something wrong—I wouldn't be phoning at three in the morning to say hello. Sorry, I'm just a bit overwrought,' she apologised, with admirable understatement. ‘The thing is we've got a water leak here. No, I've no idea where it's coming from. I haven't had the guts to venture out of my bed so far. Of course I'm alone!' she added indignantly to her sister's query. So Adam had been talking, had he? she thought grimly as hot colour stained her neck. ‘Could I beg a bed—just for the night? If Adam could come over I'd be really grateful.'

She listened in silence as her sister explained that Adam had been called into the hospital to perform some sort of miracle to save a biker's leg.

‘I'll send him along just as soon as he gets back,' Anna promised. ‘Don't try to do anything,' she warned sternly.

As if I needed reminding I'm helpless, Hope thought, hanging up. She didn't waste her time, though, and by the time she eventually did hear sounds of activity in the hallway she'd swathed her plastered leg in a large plastic bag to protect it from the water, and dug out an old wellington boot from the motley selection that were stored in a cupboard. She'd put on a padded jacket over her nightshirt and shoved some clothes in an overnight bag. She'd belatedly remembered that electricity and water didn't mix, and a torch was now her only illumination

‘I know I'm being helpless and hopeless, Adam, but…' She pointed the thin yellow beam at the doorway. The words dried in her throat and her eyes opened wide with horror that was swiftly replaced by anger. ‘Get the hell out!'

‘All in good time,' Alex replied in a cold, clipped
voice. ‘Your sister phoned me and asked me to “ride to the rescue.” I think those were her words.' He placed the storm lantern he carried on the bureau. His expression was hidden from her in the shadows.

‘I'd prefer to drown.' It couldn't be much worse than the sick churning in her belly, and it might not be such an inaccurate prediction. The water was obviously still rising.

‘Don't overplay the drama or I might give you your wish,' he grated. ‘Didn't it occur to you to switch off the water?'

‘What do you think I am, stupid? The stopcock is in the cellar of the dairy next door, down a flight of stairs. I'm not suicidal.'

‘You just prefer drowning to my company!'

Alone again, Hope drummed her fists on the bed in frustration. This couldn't be happening! Anna had probably imagined she was being helpful. Dear God, this had to stop. She couldn't go around beating her breast and tearing her hair—not publicly anyway. Under the circumstances she had little alternative but to cope with being thrown into Alex's company. She tried to view this prospect calmly, with dispassion, and failed miserably.

‘Is there much damage?' Dignity and forbearance, Hope, she silently encouraged herself.

‘It's a mess,' Alex said abruptly. ‘The cold water tank in the attic appears to have burst. There's a river running down the stairs and some plaster down in the hall.' He stepped farther into the room. ‘I turned the water off, and the electricity, but there's nothing much else I can do tonight.'

‘The responsibility of dealing with my parents' disaster hardly falls to you.' The haughty mask slipped as she thought of what would await her parents on their return.
‘What a thing to come back to,' she wailed. ‘I've wrecked the house.'

‘There's no point blaming yourself.'

Hope's head lifted and she glared at him, her blue eyes swimming with unshed tears. ‘I wasn't!' I don't suppose
his
waterpipes would dare burst, she thought resentfully.

‘Good. How do you want to do this?'

‘Do what?' she asked belligerently.

‘How do I carry you out?' he elaborated. ‘With dignity and a minimum of fuss, or like a sack of coal, kicking and screaming?'

‘Coal neither kicks nor screams, but I'll do both if you so much as lay a finger on me. I didn't want or request a knight in shining armour to rescue me.'

Alex appeared insultingly ummoved by her dire threats. ‘You requested Adam, and as I'm his deputy…'

‘If Anna knew what a slimeball you are she wouldn't have asked you.'

‘In her ignorance,' he replied drily, ‘she did just that, and I intend to rescue you whether you like it or not. A dashing Lochinvar I may not be…'

‘You can say that again,' she muttered mutinously. ‘He was young,' she added with sweet malice.

‘But I'm not leaving without you.'

‘Call me unnatural—'

‘I wouldn't be so presumptuous.'

Hope's lips thinned. ‘But I've never had fantasies about being swept up by a knight on a white charger.'

‘The Land Rover's green, and much less temperamental than a horse. Stop stalling, Hope, and swallow your pride. You need help and I'm it,' he said with brutal bluntness.

She swallowed. It was humiliating, but he was right.
She picked up her bag and clutched it to her chest. ‘Go on, then. Don't make a meal of it.'

‘Gracious to the end,' he muttered as he scooped her up.

The embrace of his arms was distressingly impersonal. A wave of loss threatened to overwhelm her when she remembered the last time she'd been picked up by those strong arms. Then don't think about it, dummy, she told herself severely.

The sight of the ruined hallway, covered by several inches of murky water, drove all personal considerations out of her head.

‘This is terrible.'

‘Nothing that can't be put right,' he asserted confidently as he pushed a floating umbrella out of his path with the toe of his boot.

‘Easy for you to say. Stop!' she yelled dramatically.

‘What now?' He ground the words out like a man coming to the end of his patience. He grunted and heaved her a little higher. ‘Whatever it is, make it quick. You're not exactly a lightweight.'

Hope's bosom swelled with indignation at this slur. ‘The kitchen—Daphne's there.'

‘Daphne? Who the hell's she?' Alex asked in bewilderment.

‘Don't ask silly questions—hurry up!'

When they reached the room Alex placed her on the kitchen table, an island amongst the wreckage.

‘The Aga—quick. The warming oven at the bottom.'

Alex sensed the urgency in her apparently bizarre instructions. ‘Is this the time to be worrying about baking?' He pulled open the door, which was already ajar. ‘It's alive,' he said, shining the light into the dark interior.

‘I should hope so,' Hope responded briskly. Despite
the awfulness of the situation her lips twitched as Alex straightened up with the white woolly bundle in his arms. The big man and the tiny lamb made an incongruous pair. ‘The formula's in the fridge—you'd better get that too. And there's a spare tin in the larder—third shelf.'

Without a word Alex handed her the bundle. She opened the zip on her holdall and hollowed out a space for the lamb on top of the designer underwear she'd hastily crammed in. When she looked up, Alex was watching her. The shadows moved over his face, revealing for a split second the distraction on his face.

‘Aren't you afraid it'll ruin your things?' he said, rubbing his thumb over the label of a silky negligee that had spilled over the edge of the bag.

‘Don't be stupid,' she said, with a scornful expression that clearly placed an orphaned lamb well above clothes—even pretty ones. She tucked the bottles of formula into the pockets of her jacket. ‘I'm ready.'

‘Does that mean we have permission to place our hands on the royal person?' Alex enquired obsequiously.

Hope was immediately conscious of her haughty expression. ‘Don't let it go to your head,' she responded in kind.

 

‘This isn't the way to the Old Rectory,' Hope protested when he didn't take the fork in the track that led down to the main road.

Alex didn't remove his eyes from the track ahead. ‘No.'

‘Is that it?
No?
'

‘What else did you have in mind?'

Hope closed her eyes and winced as he smoothly steered with the flow as the Land Rover skidded and slid
on the wet ice. ‘An explanation,' she said hoarsely, when the vehicle was headed in a more conventional direction.

‘Banish all notions or hopes that I'm kidnapping you from your head.'

Hopes! The unmitigated cheek of the man. Twin spots of colour burned on her cheeks. She bent her head and buried her face in the warm bundle on her lap. His words sent a shivery sensation through her body. Being in his power and having no say in the matter was an appalling thought. Wasn't it? ‘Is it too much to ask to know where I'm going?' she replied hoarsely. This wasn't the best time to discover a flaw—a gaping, sinful defect—in her nature.

‘As my place is the only habitation I know down this track, I'd have thought that was self-evident. The roads are lethal, and I've no intention of driving any farther than necessary tonight. Besides, I don't think it's the time of night to disturb a household with small children. Anna sounded whacked when she spoke to me.'

‘Why not call me inconsiderate and selfish and be done with it?'

Alex manoeuvred the Land Rover through the open gate that led to the Mill House. ‘Do you have to take everything so personally?' he asked in exasperation.

Yes, where you're concerned, she thought silently. The converted Mill was a stone building three storeys high. Lights from the empty windows spilt out over the terraced gardens that lined the riverbank. When Alex opened the door she could hear the sound of the river in full spate.

‘Put your arm around my neck,' he instructed tersely.

As he gathered her to him Hope was aware of the tension in his muscular frame. She flicked him a half-wary glance in the semi-darkness. Mistake, she thought as awareness sizzled along her nerve-endings. His anger
had slipped away for the moment, and what it had been masking was suddenly exposed. The silver glitter of his eyes, the heavy-lidded sensuality of his steady gaze stole the strength from her body.

‘Don't do that,' she pleaded huskily.

‘Do what?'

‘You know wha—!' She let out a yelp and just managed to stop the holdall from falling onto the snowy ground. ‘Oh, God, look what you made me do! I nearly dropped Daphne. Are you all right, darling?' she crooned anxiously. At least the spell of sexual tension had been broken, though her feelings about this were distressingly ambiguous.

‘My back's seen better days.'

‘I wasn't talking to you.'

‘How cruel of you to dispel the illusion of concern.'

‘I suppose you think I'm ungrateful.' She was struck somewhat forcibly that she had been a bit churlish about being rescued. ‘You must be pretty annoyed being dragged from a warm bed on a night like this.'

The studded oak door opened as Alex stepped up to it. ‘Thank goodness. I've been so worried.' The big door opened directly into a large sitting room. Hope wasn't much interested in its interior decor at that moment.

The nightgown beneath an oversize man's towelling robe was transparent. In the glamour stakes it left her own utilitarian nightshirt standing. Good breasts were clearly outlined beneath a deceptively modest lace yoke, and she was tall—but not too tall. She could have been anywhere between thirty and forty-five. She had the sort of striking features and strong bones that aged well: nice, dark eyes, an aquiline nose, large mouth and short, well-cut dark hair. She didn't give the impression of a woman who habitually worried, but she did give the impression of elegance, intelligence and strength.

It took Hope only seconds to assimilate all these alarming details.

Alex stepped into the warmth. ‘Substitute pig-sick for pretty annoyed,' Hope said in a low voice.

Alex's brief glance held a very definite warning.

The wave of intense nausea passed. It had nothing to do with her if Alex Matheson slept with a hundred women, she told herself. But it didn't make any difference. The fierce sense of betrayal was illogical, but she couldn't lose it. The sheer hypocrisy of his behaviour took her breath away and fanned the flames of her wrath. He had the cheek to criticise her relationship with Lloyd when all along he…! The nausea returned with a vengeance when she dwelt on what he'd been doing all along.

BOOK: An Innocent Affair
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