Rescued by the Brooding Tycoon (12 page)

The young man approaching them was sufficiently like Darius to be his brother, yet better looking. His features were more regular, less interesting, she thought. Most women would have called him handsome.

He greeted Darius with a friendly thump on the shoulder and stood back to survey him with pleasure.

‘I’ve been abroad,’ he said. ‘I just got back yesterday to find that nobody had seen hide nor hair of you for ages. Where did you vanish to?’

‘Herringdean. I’m the unexpected owner of an island off the south coast. This lady—’ he drew Harriet forward ‘—lives there and has been kind enough to be my guide and friend.’

Jackson beamed and engulfed her hand in his. ‘I don’t know how you put up with him,’ he said.

‘Neither do I,’ she said, liking him immensely.

‘Did I hear right? Herringdean?
The
Herringdean?’

‘I don’t know of any other,’ she said.

Delight broke over his face. ‘You’ve got fulmars there, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, plenty of them. They’re beautiful.’ Light dawned. ‘Hey, I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? On television?’

‘I’ve done a programme or two,’ he agreed. ‘But never one about fulmars. Could you and I have a talk some time soon?’

‘Of course we can.’

‘Then you can really have a deep discussion about fulmars,’ Darius observed. ‘I don’t know how you can bear the suspense.’

Laughing, the other two turned on him.

‘They’re birds,’ Harriet said. ‘Very big and lovely. They look like gulls but they’re really petrels.’

‘Fascinating!’ said Darius, who wouldn’t have known a gull from a petrel if they’d attacked him together.

‘They nest high up on cliffs,’ Harriet continued, ‘and they’re one of the beauties of Herringdean.’

Darius regarded her with comic irony. ‘And I’ve owned these fabulous creatures all this time and you didn’t tell me?’

‘Nobody owns fulmars,’ Harriet said. ‘It’s they who own the world, especially that bit of it called Herringdean.’

Jackson looked at her with appreciation. ‘I see you’re an expert,’ he said. ‘Don’t waste yourself on this fellow. Let’s go and have that talk now.’

‘Yes, be off while I make some duty calls,’ Darius said.

She was briefly afraid that the exchange might have offended him, but he kissed her cheek, saying, ‘Take care of her, Jackson.’

Now she remembered Darius saying that his brother was a naturalist. ‘Not an academic. He just works a lot with animals and charities. Does TV a bit, goes off on expeditions. You’d find him interesting.’

And she did. Jackson knew his stuff, and as she also knew hers they plunged into a knowledgeable discussion that pleased them both.

Darius did his duty, going from acquaintance to acquaintance, saying the right things, avoiding the wrong things, smiling mechanically, performing as expected. Nothing in his demeanour revealed that he was intensely conscious of Harriet and Jackson sitting at a side table, their heads close together, each so absorbed that they seemed to have forgotten the rest of the world.

Gradually, he managed to get near enough to eavesdrop but what he heard brought him no comfort. He couldn’t discern every word, but Jackson clearly said, ‘It depends whether you’re talking about northern fulmars or southern fulmars…’

His last words were drowned out, but then Harriet said, ‘It’s a pity that…any old rubbish…almost makes you want to…’

Jackson asked a question and she replied eagerly, ‘That’s always the way with
Procellariidae
, don’t you think?’

‘What?’

Jackson looked up and grinned. ‘Here’s my brother. Perhaps you’d better return to him before he goes out of his mind.’

He touched Darius on the shoulder and departed. Darius drew Harriet’s arm through his, saying, ‘I hardly dare ask what you were talking about. What the blue blazes are procellar—whatever?’

‘
Procellariidae
. It’s just the name of the family that fulmars belong to, just like crows and magpies are
Corvids
—’

‘Are they really? You’ll be telling me next that wrens are dinosaurs.’

‘Oh, no, wrens are
Troglodytidae
.’ Her lips twitched. ‘There, and you thought of me as a silly little creature who didn’t know any long words.’

‘Well, if I was foolish enough to think that you’ve made me sorry. I feel as if I’ve been walked over by hobnailed boots.’

‘Good,’ she teased. ‘Serve you right.’

She was looking up at him with gleaming eyes, and he couldn’t have stopped himself responding, however much he wanted to. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to take her hand and follow her into the world where only she could take him—the world of laughter and good fellowship that had been closed to him before but now seemed to open invitingly whenever she was there.

A few yards away Jackson watched them, unnoticed, a curious expression on his face. After a while he smiled as though he’d seen something that satisfied him.

Harriet had tried to prepare herself to cope among Darius’s family. She told herself that she was ready for Mary, for Freya, even for Amos. But it was the children who surprised her. After doing their social duty, Frankie and Mark effectively took her prisoner, corralling her into a corner and sitting one each side, lest she have ideas of escape. Like all the best hostage-takers, they provided her with excellent food and drink, but there was no doubt they meant business.

First she had to tell the story of Darius’s rescue, suitably edited for their childish ears. Then they wanted to hear about other rescue trips, listening in awed silence, until Mark said breathlessly, ‘But aren’t you scared?’

She thought for a moment. ‘Not really.’

‘Not even when it’s terribly dangerous?’ Frankie persisted.

‘There isn’t time to be scared. There’s always so much to do.’

Frankie looked around before leaning forward and whispering, ‘It’s more fun when it’s dangerous, isn’t it?’

Harriet hesitated, aware of a yawning pit at her feet. She must be careful what she said to children. Especially these two. Frankie’s gleaming eyes showed that she already had her own opinion of the joys of danger.

‘No,’ Harriet said, trying to sound firm. ‘And that is a very irresponsible point of view. Danger has to be taken seriously.’

‘Yes, Mrs Connor,’ Frankie said, straight-faced.

‘Harry. My friends call me Harry, like yours call you Frankie.’

United by the bond, they shook hands.

She liked them both enormously, but with Frankie she also had the connection of like recognising like. As a child, she too had felt that danger could be fun. Truth to tell, she still often found it so, as long as it was only her own. Other people’s peril had to be taken seriously, but there was a ‘ping’ about fighting for one’s own survival that most people wouldn’t understand, and certainly not sympathise with.

Her father had lectured her about being sensible. Now she had passed on the lecture to the next generation, just as she would have done with a child of her own, she thought wistfully.

But she had no children and probably never would have. Darius’s offspring would have to be her consolation.

‘Go on about Herringdean,’ Mark begged. ‘Why did you join the lifeboats?’

‘I followed my father. He taught me to love being on the water. I’ve got a little yacht that I sail whenever I can. Every year Herringdean has a regatta, and I compete in a lot of the races. I win some too.’ She added proudly, ‘I’ve got all sorts of trophies.’

‘Tell, tell,’ they demanded.

They were as sailing-crazy as she was herself but, living in London, had fewer chances to indulge their passion.

‘Mum takes us on holiday to the seaside,’ Frankie said, ‘and she gets someone to take us out in a boat, but then we have to come home.’

‘What about your father?’ Harriet asked. ‘Does he go out in the boat with you?’

‘He’s never been there,’ Frankie said. ‘He was always too busy to come on holiday.’

‘That’s very sad,’ Harriet said, meaning it. ‘He misses so much.’

‘He nearly came once,’ Mark recalled. ‘We were going to have a wonderful time together, but at the last minute he got a call and said he had to stay at home. I overheard him on the phone—he was trying to stop some deal from falling apart. He said he’d join us as soon as he could, but he never did. It was soon after that he and Mum split up. Now we don’t go at all.’

Frankie took a deep breath. ‘Harry, do you think—?’

‘Ah, there you are, you two,’ came Mary’s voice from nearby. ‘I’ve got someone for you to meet.’

They groaned but got up obediently. Harriet felt a pang of dismay, wondering if Mary had deliberately sought to separate her from the children. And had she heard Frankie call her Harry? If so, was she resentful at their instant bond?

But the smile Mary gave her before hurrying away was unreadable.

Socially, she knew she was a success. Janine and Freya spoke to her pleasantly, Marcel and Jackson claimed her company, while Amos looked on. When he did address her, his manner was courteous but distant, as though he was reserving judgement.

None of the other men there reserved judgement. Admiring glances followed her everywhere and when the dancing started she had her pick of partners. Jackson was at the head of the queue, finally yielding to Marcel.

‘Whatever is Darius thinking of to leave you alone?’ Marcel asked as they hot-footed it around the floor.

‘Darius has urgent things to attend to,’ she said primly. ‘I don’t get in his way.’

‘
Sacre bleu!
You talk like that?’ he demanded, aghast.

‘Sometimes I do,’ she said mischievously. ‘Sometimes I don’t.’

‘You keep him guessing?’

‘Definitely.’

‘So you believe in ill-treating him?’

‘It has its uses.’

‘Well, then, you must do this. In the end he will rebel, the two of you will quarrel, and it will be my turn.’

Harriet couldn’t have said what made her choose her next words. She’d never been a flirt or a tease, but a delightfully wicked impulse made her say, ‘Oh, you’re going to wait your turn?’

‘If I have to. Does brother Darius know you tease other men?’

‘Darius knows exactly what I want him to know.’

‘I see. I must remember that. I wonder what he did to be such a lucky man.’

She seemed to consider. ‘I think he’s still wondering that too. Some day I’ll tell him.’

That made him roar with laughter. She joined in, relishing the experience of flirting on the edge of indiscretion, a pleasure she’d never known before. Suddenly the world was full of new delights, and she felt herself becoming slightly dizzy.

No doubt it was coincidence that made Darius appear at that moment. Marcel made a resigned face and yielded, kissing her hand before he departed.

‘Until the next time,’ he said.

‘Do I get a little of your company at last?’ Darius asked. ‘I seem to be the only person you’re not spending time with.’

‘Just trying to do you credit,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t want to be known as the man who accompanied a little brown mouse, would you?’

‘I don’t think there’s much fear of that,’ he said. ‘I’m beginning to think I’ve never really known you.’

‘Is that so surprising?’ she asked. ‘We met only a few weeks ago. Neither of us really knows anything about the other.’

‘No, we don’t,’ he said slowly. ‘You’ve taken me by surprise so many times… You’d think I’d realise by now…’

‘Maybe we never realise,’ she whispered.

The evening was drawing to a close. The bride-and groom-to-be embraced each other for the last waltz, and other dancers joined in. Darius took her hand and held it gently for a moment.

‘My turn,’ he said. ‘Unless you object.’

‘No,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t object.’

No words could express how much she didn’t object to dancing with Darius as he took her into his arms. Suddenly the most vibrant sensation she’d ever known was the light touch of his hand on her back, drawing her close but not as close as she would have liked. His hand holding hers seemed to whisper of that other time when he’d clung to her in a gesture that had transformed the world.

And then it had been transformed again, and yet again, with how many more to come? Once she would have wished she knew the answer to that, but now she was content to let the path lead where it might, as long as it ultimately led to him. In the enchanted atmosphere of tonight that didn’t seem as crazily impossible as it normally would.

There was warm affection in his smile, but was it real or only part of tonight’s performance? Or could she make it real? Was Cinderella’s power great enough for that?

The music was coming to an end. The ball was over.

But there would be another ball tomorrow, and Prince Charming might yet fit the glass slipper on her foot.

Darius? she thought. Prince Charming?

Well, it took all sorts.

‘Is everything all right?’ he asked, searching her face.

‘Yes,’ she said contentedly. ‘Everything’s all right.’

As they went upstairs he said, ‘You were wonderful. Everything I hoped.’

‘I floundered a bit.’

‘No, you didn’t. My kids love you, even Mary thinks you’re terrific. You’re a star.’

‘So I really have helped you?’ she asked hopefully.

‘More than you’ll ever know. And tomorrow’s going to be even better.’

‘Would you like to come in and talk about it?’ Harriet ventured to suggest. ‘You can give me my instructions for tomorrow.’

For a moment she thought he would agree, but then a wry look came over his face.

‘I’d love to but…things to do. You know how it is.’

‘Yes,’ she said a touch sadly, ‘I know how it is.’

‘And besides, you don’t need any instructions from me. You’ve got it all sussed. Now, go and have a good sleep.’

She smiled up at him. ‘Goodnight.’

He didn’t reply at first, just stood looking down at her with an expression more gentle than she had ever seen before and the faintest smile on his lips. But then the smile faded, became tight and constrained.

‘Goodnight,’ he said, and moved away.

For a moment Harriet was too dazed to know where she was or what was happening to her. Hearing her door close, she realised that she had entered her room without even being aware of it. As if from a great distance, she heard his own door being closed.