Judgement By Fire (35 page)

“But you
preferred the open plan?” he asked.

“Well, my
studio was designed just for one, and I never expected that to change.” She
caught the speculative gleam in his eyes and lowered hers. “I enjoyed living
with my work. My work
was
my life. There was no need for a separation.”

“Why do you
talk in the past tense?” he asked, afraid to hear the answer but knowing he
must. Lauren folded her arms across her breast, protectively, and moved away
from his magnetic aura to sit on the long oatmeal colored settee.

“I’m not sure
I’ll ever paint again. Oh, no, my hands will be fine,” she added, catching his
look at her still bandaged palms. “But there seems to be something missing, and
I haven’t had the urge to pick up a paintbrush. Whenever I think of it, I
remember seeing my easel trembling in this terrific heat before it burst into
flames, and I get sick to my stomach.”

Jon read the
terrible pain that haunted her eyes and longed to take her in his arms, to
chase away her ghosts as he knew she could so easily chase away his.

But this was
not the time. Maybe there never would be a time. His chest ached, and he was
glad when she spoke again.

“Anyway, it’s
academic right now. Until I find another studio.” She shifted position and the
light fell on the healing bruises on her cheeks.

God,
Jon thought,
she is so beautiful.

He squashed
the blossoming of his feelings, shifting his position and moving to sit
alongside her as he opened the briefcase he’d brought with him.

“Your studio
is one of the things I wanted to discuss. As you’re probably now aware, Rush
Co. has finalized the deal to buy Haverford Castle.”

Lauren nodded
dully. So it was to be a business meeting, after all. For a moment, earlier,
she’d thought she’d seen such emotion in his eyes...

Don’t be a
fool, kiddo, don’t get your hopes up now.
She didn’t know if the warning
came from her head or her heart, but she didn’t want to listen.

Yet Jon’s
crisp and efficient manner gave her no choice. It was obvious he wanted to
conclude business and leave.
Probably has a dinner date in the city,
Lauren thought bitterly, noting that Jon had glanced at the slim gold watch in
his wrist for the second time since he’d arrived.

“Our decision
has been to continue funding Mrs. Lloyd’s work, to maintain Haverford Castle as
an artist’s colony, possibly expanding the facility to boost the tourism
potential, although we obviously recognize the artists’ need for privacy and
quiet,” Jon said, catching Lauren’s startled gaze.

She looked him
right in the eye for the first time that evening, but when she didn’t speak, he
continued, “Which brings us back to your studio. I have blueprints here, two
different sets. One is to replicate the building exactly as it was, which you
may not want, and the other is larger and has been left open for your
suggestions.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you
consulting me over this rebuilding?” Lauren’s voice was firm, but inside she
trembled.

“Because it’s
my intention to deed the cottage to you, for as long as you wish to remain at
Haverford Castle,” he answered, holding her gaze.

“No,” her eyes
blazed into his, “I’ve told you, I want nothing from you.”

“This is
little more than replacing the facilities you enjoyed under your original
contract with Mrs. Lloyd.”

“It’s a hell
of a lot different, and you know it!” Lauren held her voice down with
difficulty.

Was this
man never going to understand? To cap it all, he was looking at his watch
again!

“Do you mind
if we watch the business news for a few moments?” he asked mildly, reaching
over to flick the set on.

Lauren was
about to make a savage reply when the pictures of Jon flickering across the
screen caught her attention.

“In a move
which caught the business world completely off-guard today, Jon Rush, president
and CEO of the giant international conglomerate, Rush Co., announced his
resignation from the company. Mr. Rush will maintain a controlling interest in
the company through his shareholdings, but will no longer take an active part
in the day-to-day running of the business.”

Jon turned off
the television, leaning back against the settee and sipping his coffee.
Lauren’s mouth, which had fallen open at the news, snapped shut as she turned
to him. How could he sit there looking so relaxed and smug?

“Okay, I can
see you’re going to make me ask. Not that it has anything to do with me, but
why? That company was your life…” Lauren fixed her deep green gaze on him,
demanding an answer to her question.

“It has a
great deal to do with you. But first, I have a couple of questions that you
must answer.”

“And if I
don’t?” She wasn’t sure she’d want to answer anything he might ask of her right
now.

“Then I will
leave you the blueprints to consider, give you the name of the construction
foreman to call, and this meeting will be over.” He spoke casually, and she
envied the relaxed line of his long body as he lounged in his seat. Her own
body was racked with tension; her shoulders ached with the effort of staying
still.

“That sounds
like an ultimatum.”

“It is,
Lauren, it is,” he sighed. “But don’t you see? You can’t really lose. Even if
you don’t want to talk to me, you can still have your studio back. Haverford
Castle will go on as always. You’ll have your life back pretty much as it was
before all this happened. That’s really all any of us can ask.”

Lauren rubbed
the nape of her neck, feeling the tension that had gathered there. The movement
pulled the loose sweater caressingly against her breasts, outlining them. Jon
swallowed at the sight, and marveled at how such a simple, innocent gesture by
this woman could inflame him.

“So what are
your questions?” she asked her voice low and tired.

*
* *

Jon took a
deep breath, filling his lungs like a drowning man going down for the third
time. “Did you love my cousin, Stephen?”

The question
fell into the silence of the cottage like a giant meteor hitting the earth. It
was the last thing Lauren had expected and she gasped as she caught Jon’s
guarded look. Letting out a deep sigh, she shook her head slowly, from side to
side, as if trying to clear her vision.

“No, Jon. I
didn’t love Stephen,” she said slowly. “Stephen took me out a couple to times.
We had fun, and then he became very possessive. I had already warned him off
when…” she gulped, swallowing the words she almost said.

“When what?”

“Okay, if you
must know, when I met you and knew I didn’t want to see anyone else. It was
over with Stephen before we met—there had never really been anything between
us—a couple of meals, and a walk in the park. We’d never slept together, if
that’s what’s eating you!”

Her words were
savage, but how else could she cope with the pain he was stirring inside her?

“Just one more
question, then,” Jon’s voice was cool and calm and she hated him.

“Go to hell,”
Lauren grunted at him, transferring her hatred of him to hatred of her own
treacherous physiology, her every nerve ending throbbing with growing awareness
of the man.

“All in good
time. Do you hate me because you saw me almost kill another man?” The question
came out smoothly, surprising Jon because he had had to squeeze it past a lump
in his throat that seemed big enough to choke him.

The sheer
vulnerability of the question betrayed his feelings to Lauren. Tears sprang to
her eyes as she shook her head.

“No, Jon. I
think you were doing what anyone else would have done. No, more than that. You’d
gone after Stephen, trying in some way to save him before the police got to
him. It wasn’t your fault that it all turned so savage. But what I did was
unforgivable, I know. I don’t believe that you would have actually killed
Stephen with that rock,” Lauren’s voice was harsh as her own words stripped her
nerves like a razor blade. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? In that split second,
I was terrified that you’d do something that you’d regret for the rest of your
life. But in not trusting you, I interfered; I took away your control of your
life. Stephen turned that gun on himself, and now you’ll never know if you
would have taken his life or not, or if you could have saved him. And that’s
why you can’t bear to be with me now, isn’t it?”

Silence roared
between them. Jon’s head was down, studying the floor as Lauren spoke, but
moments later he lifted his head and she saw the tears in his eyes.

“My God,
Lauren, is that what you believe? That I hate you for stopping me from killing
Stephen? Because I’ll never know if I could have done that? Or if I could have
saved his life?” His voice was a whisper that she had to strain to hear.

“It’s true,
isn’t it?” Her own voice was low and bitter. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,
Jon. And you’d maybe find it in your heart to have a little pity for me, at
least, if you knew the hell I go through every day when I imagine how it would
have been if Stephen had taken the opportunity when you were distracted by my
scream to turn the gun on you instead of himself.”

She couldn’t hold
back the tears now, and great heaving sobs racked her body as she curled into
herself in the corner of the settee. She heard the snap of the briefcase
closing and thought with desolation that Jon was about to storm out in disgust.

Then his arms
were around her, pulling her to him, his lips kissing away the salty pearls of
moisture that streamed from her eyes. Her arms went around him and she clung to
his warm strength as if afraid he’d vanish if she loosened her grip. Jon pulled
her closer, drawing them both down until they lay together on the tweed
upholstery, their bodies joined along their whole length, their tears mingling
on their cheeks.

“In the
Persian Gulf I killed some people, indiscriminately, enemy soldiers who’d have
killed me if I hadn’t pulled the trigger first. But it sickened me, so much so
that I couldn’t wait to get out of the army when the war was over. I was
vulnerable then, and racked with guilt because I hadn’t been there when my
father died. So I set about carrying on his work, building Rush Co. into a
major player. I didn’t consciously realize what I was doing. But really I was
dedicating my life to creating a memorial to him because I hadn’t been the son
I knew he wanted.

“You see, he
was devoted to the business, and I’d resented him for that as I was growing up.
It seemed he always put work ahead of my mother and me, and in my teenage mind,
I believed that’s what had driven my mother from us.

“It’s taken a
long time for me to realize that it was more complicated than that. But in the
meantime, I didn’t just live to continue my father’s work, I
became
my
father. Never taking a day off, never doing anything just for fun. At the risk
of sounding like a pop psychologist, I think the farm, the horses, the truck
restoration, even the Labrador puppies, were all subconscious attempts to
reassert my
real
self. But they all failed—until I met you.” He paused
looking into her face, then captured her lips for a single, brief kiss, and
felt the clamor rise in him for more.

“Lauren,
through you I glimpsed a world that was more my own. I didn’t want to be
company president. But then this whole thing happened with Stephen, and I
listened to all he said about the way I was destroying the people I loved, like
my father had done, and because I was vulnerable, I believed it all. And I
tried to cut you out of my life because I didn’t want to destroy you.”

“You tore my
heart out so that you wouldn’t hurt me?” she asked waspishly.

He grinned.
“Back to your old sweet self, I see. Yes, that’s about the sum of it.”

“Great. And I
suppose you want me to thank you?” Lauren sighed deeply, contentment washing
around her as Jon held her in his arms, contentment and a building excitement
and desire.

“No. I want
you to marry me.”

There, it was
out. The question that had caused him more soul-searching and gut-wrenching
anxiety than the decision to quit his position at Rush Co. He waited, his
breath caught in his throat, for her answer.

“Jon, I
couldn’t live in Toronto…I think I’m going to want to paint again!” Her look
was exultant, and he knew she’d given him the beginnings of an answer.

“You wouldn’t
have to. I’m going to set up a small company, producing replicas of vintage
cars—that’s why I left the second set of blueprints for your cottage blank. I think
we’ll need a little more room than a cottage built for one.”

Jon had
propped himself up on one elbow, and his other hand was doing something
exquisite as it wandered under the hem of her sweater. Lauren’s breath grew a
little ragged as his warm, strong fingers touched her silken skin, then her own
fingers began to play with the buttons of his shirt and she delighted in the
darkening of his blue gaze.

“Just one last
question,” she asked a mischievous smile on her lips. “The cottage is awful
small, you know. What about when the babies come along?”

So he had his
answer, in full.

Triumphantly,
Jon grinned. “Then I’ll have to build us a castle of our own,” he said, and he
lowered his head to capture her mouth in a kiss that promised forever.

The End

 Glenys O'Connell is a former
crime journalist on a daily newspaper and publisher of a community newspaper.
Covering serious crimes led her to a degree in psychology and a career as a
counselor. She is the author of a number of published romantic suspense and
comedy novels and childrens’ books. She has shared her writing skills as a
creative writing teacher in third level and online. She has also published
several books on mental health issues and is an award winning playwright. After
years of travelling and working abroad, she now makes her home in rural
Ontario, Canada, with her husband, four grown up children and two spoiled cats.
You can read more about Glenys & see her other books on her
Amazon
page
or write to her by
email
.
  You can also read the first chapter of some of her books for free
here.