Old Desires/A Stranger's Kiss (2-in-1 edition) (9 page)

He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. ‘Ashbrooke Leisure. They’re a local development company,’ he replied, making no effort to either to sweeten the planned development or suggest that it was particularly undesirable. ‘It’s the usual sort of thing. They plan to extend the house and turn it into a club, put a leisure complex and indoor pool over there.’

‘And,’ she persisted, sensing there was something he wasn’t telling her.

‘And there’ll be a caravan site along here and up there,’ he admitted, gesturing towards the clifftop and the hill above.

‘Caravans?’ she said, shocked. ‘How many?’

‘Two hundred,’ he said. ‘So I believe.’

She looked around her and saw the unspoilt countryside and wondered what a couple of hundred caravans would do to it. ‘What about planning permission?’ she demanded. ‘I can believe the local council would pass such a plan.’

‘It was passed last month.’

‘But—’

‘You don’t have to own land to apply for planning permission to build on it, or change its use.’

‘And they got it? Just like that?’

He was getting a little impatient. ‘There were a few objections,’ he admitted. ‘It went to appeal.’

‘I’ll bet. No wonder they’re so anxious to get on with the purchase,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘They’ve gone to a lot of trouble.’

His mouth hardened. ‘And expense. If you’re thinking of trying to push up the price I would urge you to reconsider.’

‘I don’t believe you’ve mentioned the price.’ He did and an involuntary gasp escaped her lips. No wonder he hadn’t softened the blow. She could hardly blame him for thinking she could be bought for what was undoubtedly a great deal of money. But was it enough for such a site? Her brows furrowed in thought. ‘Did they offer Mary that much?’

‘She wouldn’t even talk to them, but this was her home. She’d always lived here. I don’t believe that any amount of money would have made her move.’

The implication being that Holly would sell because she didn’t care?

She shaded her eyes against the sun as she looked westwards along the coast. What would two hundred caravans do to the view? she wondered unhappily. Nothing, if you kept your eyes firmly out to sea. She spotted a campsite in the distance. Someone had already made themselves at home.

‘Who are they?’ she asked.

He turned to look. ‘That’s a special campsite for children and young people, part of the holiday programme organised by the Graham Foundation. Mary’s charity.’

‘The one you helped her to found?’

‘I gave her financial advice, that’s all.’

‘And what will happen to that campsite
when I sign your piece of paper?’

He threw her a sharp glance. ‘Does it matter?’ he asked.

She didn’t bother to dignify this with a reply, simply waited, hands on hips, for him to answer her question. He shrugged carelessly. ‘I imagine it would have to go. It’s right by the access point to the beach.’ He turned away quickly. ‘Shall we go inside? I’d like to get on with the furniture.’

‘You
imagine
?’ Holly echoed, suddenly very angry. ‘Don’t you
know
? Don’t you
care
? I’m an outsider, but you live in Ashbrooke. It’s your home.’

Or was he getting ready to take the money and run as well? He’d said something about selling the Hall. She shivered as a cold hand feathered her spine. Just how deeply involved in this deal was Mr Joshua Kent? Could it be that it was the reason he had befriended Mary in the first place? Why he’d come and fetch her from France? Had taken so much trouble to disarm her? At least he hadn’t been able to bring himself to actually seduce her. She felt a hot flush of shame as she realised how easy it would have been.

‘Well?’ she demanded, ignoring the sick feeling that threatened.

His face was impassive. ‘It would have to go.’

‘Show me,’ she demanded.

‘Aren’t you tired?’ he objected.

‘Tired?’ she repeated dully. Too tired after the flight and the long drive down here to be able to think clearly?

She was beginning to wonder if he had been going to produce the contract the moment they returned to the hotel, ready to be signed while she still had her head full of Dresden shepherds and Sheraton whatnots.

‘No, I’m not tired. In fact I’m beginning to feel the need for some good, fresh air.’ She lowered her lashes. ‘But you get on with listing the furniture if you like.’ Suggesting, not too subtly, that a walk might be a bit much for him.

She didn’t wait for his reaction, but set off across the garden and along a clearly marked footpath towards the campsite.

She had gone barely twenty yards before he was alongside her. She glared at him.

‘I thought I might just manage it,’ he said, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. ‘If you took my arm…’

‘It’s a public footpath,’ she threw back at him, avoiding his hand at her elbow, a little stab of anger spilling over into her voice.

She walked swiftly along the path, making it clear enough that she had no further interest in conversation. It took most of fifteen silent minutes before they reached the campsite and she was the breathless one.

‘This way.’

The path dipped sharply and he took her arm as she slithered down the slippery grass to the lower level where the camp was set up. Here the cliff dipped almost to the beach and it was easy enough to scramble down on to the sand, but wide steps had been constructed and a shallow ramp down to a wooden deck for anything on wheels. She walked down the steps, running her hands down the smooth rail, appreciating the thought that had gone into the design.

‘Did the Foundation pay for this work?’ she asked, turning to him.

‘Of course.’

‘It must have cost a great deal of money. Will your developers reimburse it, or am I expected to repay it out of the proceeds of the sale?’

‘I expect we can work something out,’ he said. Her all too obvious anger seemed to amuse him and that made it ten times worse.

‘Then it had better be before the contracts are signed, don’t you think?’

‘You’re learning very quickly, Holly.’

‘Am I?’ she asked, with apparent surprise. ‘It just seems like common sense to me. I’m surprised you didn’t think of it yourself.’

He took a deep breath and bit back whatever retort had leapt to his tongue. ‘Do you want to see anything else?’ he asked politely. ‘There is a shower and toilet-block tucked away in those trees.’

‘Oh, I want to see everything, Joshua,’ she assured him forcefully. And it was true; she did. Every inch of Mary’s home. Every blade of grass. Every tree.

Joshua led the way to where a group of youngsters were playing games under the watchful supervision of their leaders.

One of them came hurrying over, smiling broadly, and then stopped quite suddenly. ‘Good lord,’ she said as she caught sight of Holly. ‘You gave me quite a turn. I thought you were Mary’s ghost.’

‘Holly is her cousin. She owns the land now,’ Joshua said quickly.

‘Laura Marsden,’ said the woman, introducing herself, adding, ‘You’re very alike, for cousins.’ Holly firmly ignored Joshua’s eye as Laura expressed her condolences.

‘Holly Carpenter,’ she replied, completely the introduction. ‘Joshua has been telling me about the Foundation. What exactly do you do?’

‘We bring a group of special needs children from London every year. They wouldn’t have a holiday without Mary’s Foundation.’ They stood for a moment and watched the children taking part in an obstacle race which involved large quantities of water and a great deal of laughter.

‘Holly,’ Joshua intervened. ‘Time’s getting on.’ She smiled sweetly at him. ‘There’s plenty of time, Joshua. As much time as I need.’ Her eyes challenged him to deny it.

Then she turned to say goodbye to the camp leader, who said, ‘Why don’t you come along to the campfire supper tomorrow evening? We’d love to have you.’

‘I’d love to come,’ Holly said immediately. ‘And if there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to get in touch with me.’

‘You’re staying up at Highfield?’

There was the smallest pause, with Holly very conscious of Joshua’s eyes burning into her back. ‘Yes, Laura. I’m staying at Highfield.’

CHAPTER SIX

JOSHUA was silent on the walk back, his face expressionless, but Holly told herself she didn’t care how angry he was. She wasn’t about to be rushed into selling her house to a group of developers who only cared about their profits.

Back at the house he unlocked the door and let her in. Holly was in the living-room before she realised he hadn’t followed her. She walked back into the hall. He was standing in the entrance, tossing her keys in his hand.

‘Aren’t you coming in?’ she asked. ‘I thought you were determined to sort out the furniture.’ She couldn’t resist this opportunity to provoke him a little.

‘I’m afraid I’ve run out of time today. I’ll come back for you in a couple of hours.’

‘Back for me? Damn you, Joshua Kent. Will you stop trying to run my life? There’s no need for you to come back for me.’ She glared at him. ‘I’m staying here.’

‘Then you have a slight problem. There’s no food in the house and it’s quite a way to the town.’

‘A walk won’t kill me.’

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘But you won’t make it before the shops shut.’

‘Oh.’ He took pity on her. ‘There’s a car in the garage. If you’d like me to I’ll arrange some insurance, then you’ll be able to do exactly what you like. But if you want to eat tonight I suggest you come up to the Hall.’ He didn’t wait for her answer, his sudden grin absolutely infuriating, but he returned to the car before she could tell him so. He returned a few moments later with her bag and portfolio.

‘Thank you,’ she offered a little stiffly.

‘You’re sure you’ll be all right here on your own?’ he asked.

She lifted her chin. ‘Why on earth shouldn’t I be?’

If she hadn’t been starving she would have told him what to do with his dinner. But she was only too aware that it had been a long time since lunch on the plane and she hadn’t eaten much of that.

He nodded, apparently satisfied. ‘Then I’ll see you later.’

Despite Holly’s bold assertion that she would be fine, it still felt rather odd to be quite alone in a strange house where everything had been left just as if the occupant were about to return — the beds made, towels in the bathrooms, new soap waiting to be used. Mary’s clothes still hanging in the wardrobe.

She wandered about, not quite knowing what to do, jumping at every unexpected sound made by an old house settling after a warm day.

Her assertion that she would be staying at Highfield had been made on the spur of the moment. She had expected Joshua to try and talk her out of spending any time there, but he hadn’t. Maybe he thought that being alone all night in a strange house would sufficiently unnerve her that she would meet him on the doorstep in the morning, bag packed, begging to be taken to Ashbrooke Hall. He would be disappointed. Sleeping on her own in an otherwise empty house was something she was used to.

She decided to sleep in the main guest bedroom. It seemed appropriate, she felt like a guest, after all — a welcome guest, but not quite at home. It was a lovely room, the wallpaper covered with tiny pink rosebuds that were echoed in the print of the bedcover and matched exactly by plain pink velvet curtains. It had its own bathroom and a small dressing-room with a walk-in wardrobe. It took no time at all to hang up the few clothes she had with her and, that done, she ran a bath and wallowed in the sheer luxury of it.

Despite her assertion that a couple of hours would be plenty of time, she was barely ready when she heard the ring of the bell. She had decided to wear another of her purchases from Gordes. Cool turquoise this time, princess line, a white cuff skimming across her breasts and broad white straps.

She quickly applied the final touch of colour to her lips, checked her hair and smiled with satisfaction at her reflection. She was determined to crush Joshua Kent with the ease with which she had made herself at home.

She picked up the tiny matching jacket and pushed her feet into her sandals, before running down the stairs to throw open the door. But it was the chauffeur standing in the porch.

‘Mr Kent has been detained, Miss
Carpenter. But he didn’t want to keep you waiting, so he asked me to fetch you.’

She bit back her chagrin at being foiled in her plan. It was almost as if he had known.

She smiled. ‘How kind of him.’ Soon after, the Rolls pulled smoothly into the long drive in front of Ashbrooke Hall, but didn’t stop at the front entrance. Instead, Holly was driven around the side and the car halted before an old stable-block. The chauffeur opened the door. ‘Mr Kent said to go straight up, miss. The door is open.’ She looked uncertainly at the stone stairway that ran up the outside of the building.

‘Up here?’ He nodded and after a moment’s hesitation she ran lightly up the steps to a half-open door.

‘…I thought you should know how things stand.’ Joshua’s voice drifted to her from inside. ‘No. Leave that to me, Marcus.’ There was a pause. ‘I can handle… No, it shouldn’t be too difficult…’

He was apparently speaking to someone on the telephone and Holly found herself in the unenviable position of being an eavesdropper, her cheeks growing warm as she realised that she was the subject of the conversation. She knocked loudly.

Joshua pulled the door open, the receiver still in his hand, and for a moment stared at her.

‘I’ll call you back in the morning,’ he told his caller and replaced the receiver on its cradle. ‘Come on in, Holly. I’m sorry I didn’t come myself. I’ve been trying to catch up with the messages left on my answering machine.’

‘I seem to be taking up rather a lot of your time,’ Holly said a little stiffly.

He was reassuring. ‘It’s no trouble.’

‘Isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘Well, once I’ve signed your papers you’ll be able to get back to your own business.’ She managed a smile. ‘What exactly is your business, Joshua?’ she asked, her casual tone hiding the angry acceleration of her heart-rate. ‘I don’t believe you’ve ever said.’ His mouth that had once been so forbidding now seemed to smile almost too easily. Holly didn’t like that any better. At least she knew exactly where she was when he was being insufferable.

But he refused to be drawn. ‘That’s because I make it a habit never to discuss my business out of the office,’ he said. ‘Would you like a drink?’

She could hardly dispute this blatant lie without revealing that she had overheard part of his conversation and demanding that he tell her exactly what he had meant. But she was certain she already knew and equally certain that he would think of something perfectly innocent to fob her off with.

So she made herself smile, too. ‘Thank you. A glass of wine?’

‘Come on through to the kitchen. I hope you don’t mind eating over here? The food will be exactly the same as in the dining room at the Hall, but we won’t have to put up with a horde of onlookers.’

‘Do other people find your eating habits that interesting?’ she asked, following him into a roomy kitchen fitted in warm antique pine and with a small round table that seemed to suggest intimate breakfasts for two.

He grinned at her. ‘Oh, they’re used to me. But you, my dear, are a fairly hot item of gossip.’ Holly stared at him in astonishment. ‘Why would anyone want to gossip about me?’ she demanded to know.

He selected a bottle of wine from an oversized refrigerator. ‘White?’ He held up a bottle of Chardonnay, wonderfully golden in the evening light. She nodded and he applied a corkscrew with deft precision. ‘You’re an unknown factor,’ he explained in answer to her question. ‘You’ve inherited an important piece of local property. And a beautiful woman with a considerable fortune is always a matter of interest, as you’ll quickly find out.’ He pulled the cork, poured the wine into two glasses and handed one to her. ‘Now, what would you like to eat?’

His sudden reversion to the matter-of-fact momentarily threw her. ‘When David and I have a take-away it’s usually a pizza,’ she confessed as she took the menu he offered her.

‘Really?’ He sounded unsurprised. ‘Then I suggest you take this opportunity to spoil yourself. What do you like best? Big fat Dublin Bay prawns? Or Luigi makes a pate stuffed with truffles that defies description. Or quenelles—’

‘Stop!’ she cried. ‘I shall faint from hunger if you keep that up. It seems forever since I had anything to eat. Let me look.’ He laughed, to reveal a row of even white teeth and, with a flourish, held back a chair for her to sit down. Then he drew up another alongside her to sit close, his arm stretched along the back of her chair, his shoulder brushing hers as he leaned over her to point out some special treat. All the time she was trying to concentrate on the menu she was aware of him. The skin on the inside of his arm, silky against the coolness of her shoulder. His warm, masculine scent. She glanced up at him, her mouth inches from his neck, the clean line of his jaw. He turned to her.

‘Decided?’

‘The French mushroom tart,’ she said quickly. His face was very close, the grey eyes smiling with an unexpected warmth. ‘And…’ She faltered. For a moment he didn’t move and suddenly his arm around her shoulder made their closeness seem very intimate.

‘And?’ he prompted gently and her insides suddenly seemed to take on a life of their own, one over which she had no control.

It took an enormous effort of will to make herself respond. ‘I’d like the trout fillet, please.’

‘Is that all?’ For a moment she thought that perhaps he sensed that it was far from all. That he knew she wanted him to bend those last few inches and kiss her. Kiss her properly. And for a moment she thought he was going to do just that. Instead, after a pause that might have been only a second, might have been forever, he stood up and called the hotel kitchen to place their orders. Then, taking their glasses and the bottle of wine, he led the way into the living-room.

‘It’ll be a while before the food arrives, we might as well be comfortable.’ Despite the rough stone walls the room was wonderfully welcoming. Deep armchairs, a thick carpet and a fireplace piled with logs and fir cones just waiting for a cool evening and the touch of a match. And at the far end, under a wide picture-window that took full advantage of the view, a table had already been laid for two.

She sank into one of the armchairs and curled her legs beneath her. He stretched out in its pair on the other side of the hearth and smiled.

It was a smile that could break your heart, she thought, and with the thought came a sudden chill. For a moment back there in the kitchen, with his arm around her shoulder, she had forgotten that she was angry with him, certain that he was trying to manipulate her to his own ends. But she made herself smile back.

‘You should smile more often, Holly. It suits you.’ His voice had a new, velvet texture that seemed to ripple down her spine.

She lowered her lashes. ‘I think the same could be said for you, Joshua.’ For a moment his face stilled.

Holly relaxed back into the armchair. If Joshua Kent thought that she could be romanced out of Highfield, far be it from her to disabuse him. For now.

‘Perhaps we ought to start this relationship again, Holly, from the beginning.’ Joshua was no longer smiling. ‘We seem to have begun very badly.’ There was a grave intensity in his expression that made it almost impossible to believe that he was simply leading her on. But, as long as she remembered that that was exactly what he was doing, she would be quite safe.

‘On the contrary, Joshua. I think you’ve been doing rather well,’ she answered with equal gravity, relieved that he would take the betraying colour staining her cheeks for something other than indignation that he thought her so gullible. ‘So far,’ she added softly under her breath.

Joshua’s forehead creased in the slightest frown and she thought for a moment that she had gone too far. She had little experience of flirting at this unspoken level of intensity.

He leaned across and refilled her glass, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘I’m glad, Holly. We should be friends.’

‘Friends?’ She experimented with a soft laugh.

The bottle, dewed with moisture, slipped through his fingers and hit the hearth rather hard. He steadied it, then said, ‘How long are you thinking of staying there?’

‘I’m not sure,’ she said, airily. ‘You were right. I’ve nothing to rush home for and I’d like to see a little of the countryside round here. Do you think the purchasers will mind waiting a while longer?’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘You could always tell them you couldn’t find me.’

‘And who shall I say is living at the house?’

She shrugged, indicating that was his problem.

‘You could always move up here,’ he suggested.

‘Up here?’ she repeated faintly, and felt the slow, betraying spread of heat in her cheeks.

The corners of his mouth creased in the slightest smile. ‘To the hotel. If you want to stay for a while. I’ve no idea how long they’ll wait, but you do run the risk of losing the sale altogether.’

She ducked her head and tried to cover her confusion by taking a sip of wine. It took a moment for the catch in her throat to release itself. ‘After they’ve taken so much trouble? Waited so long? Surely not,’ she objected. ‘And I’d prefer to stay at Highfield.’

‘It’s up to you, but it is my duty to warn you of the risk. There’s always someone else willing to sell, Holly.’