Running From the Storm (4 page)

‘What made you decide on law as a career?’

‘It was decided for me. It wasn’t something I wanted to do. You see, my father had hoped for a son to follow in hisfootsteps, but it wasn’t to be. My mother died when I was quite young.’

‘And your father never married again?’

Caris shook her head. ‘He’d adored my mother and he never really got over her death. He became morose and bitter.’

‘But you must have been a comfort to him.’

‘Quite the reverse, apparently. I was left in the care of various nannies and sent away to boarding school as soon as I was old enough to go. But, later on, when I proved to be reasonably bright, it became my father’s dearest wish that I should train to be a lawyer and join the firm.’

‘Why did you choose to go to Cambridge?’

‘Once again, the decision was made for me. Though my father is American born and bred, his family, as well as my mother’s, were originally from Cambridgeshire.’

‘How did they end up in the States?’

‘In the early eighteen-hundreds one of our ancestors emigrated and settled in New Jersey, but he sent his eldest son back to England to finish his education at Cambridge. Since then it’s become a kind of family tradition that in each generation the eldest son of the eldest son should go there.

‘My father went. That’s where he met and fell in love with my mother. She was a law student too, but in her second year she was forced to leave when she became pregnant. They got married as soon as they knew, and I was born at my grandparents’ house in Spitewinter.

‘Shortly afterwards, my father graduated and took my mother and me back to the States with him. But it hadn’t been an easy birth—something had gone wrong—and she never fully recovered. After she died, he could scarcely bear to look at me. It was almost as if he blamed me for her death.’

‘I see,’ Zander said slowly. ‘But, now you’ve taken the place of the son he never had, presumably you’ve grown closer?’

Caris shook her head regretfully. ‘I’m afraid you could never call the relationship I have with my father
close
.’

‘But you get on okay with him as a rule?’

‘Reasonably well, while I’m willing to be a dutiful daughter and not cross him.’

Zander frowned. ‘I find it difficult to believe he’s not proud of you.’

‘Perhaps he is, a little. But I’ve still got a long way to go to get where he wants me to be.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘It’s his dream that one day I’ll become a top-class barrister.’

‘Really?’

‘Don’t sound so surprised.’

‘I wouldn’t have figured you as a barrister.’

‘You don’t think I have the brains?’

‘Such a thought never entered my head. It’s just that I’ve always considered a top-class barrister must have a certain hardness, the ability to remain detached, uninvolved emotionally.

‘I can easily believe you’re level-headed and clever but, though I still don’t know you well, I have a gut feeling that you’re too tender-hearted to make it a comfortable profession.’

‘Now should I be flattered or insulted?’ she wondered aloud.

He laughed. ‘Please, take it as a compliment.’

At that moment their first course arrived. It proved to be a very tasty lobster bisque, and apart from an occasional remark they fell silent as they did justice to it.

It was followed by a tender steak served with a delicious
cheureuil
sauce, and they ended with a fruit and cream cheesecake that was light as a dream. As soon as their plates had been whisked away, the attentive waiter brought coffee, chocolates and a small trolley holding a selection of liqueurs.

‘Which would you prefer?’ Zander asked. ‘Brandy? Cointreau? Benedictine?’

‘I like Benedictine,’ Caris admitted. ‘But as I’ve already had at least two glasses of champagne I’m not sure if it would be wise.’

‘Well, as you won’t be driving, I can’t see the harm. And it may help you get a good night’s sleep in spite of the ankle.’

Taking that as a yes, the waiter poured a generous amount of Benedictine into one of the glasses. Then with the bottle poised he enquired, ‘And for you, sir?’

Zander shook his head. ‘Nothing for me, thanks.’

When the waiter had departed, with no need for small talk they sipped their coffee in companionable silence, looking out over the dusky garden.

A warm evening breeze drifted by, carrying with it the fragrance of roses, lavender and the haunting scent of rosemary.

With a sigh, Caris turned to her host and said, ‘That was the best meal I can ever remember having.’

In the flickering candlelight, Zander smiled at her. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’

He had good teeth—nicely shaped, gleaming white and healthy—and his mouth was beautiful, she thought, the top lip ascetic, the fuller lower lip more sensuous.

She was still staring, caught by the sexiness of it, when he added approvingly, ‘It’s a pleasure to have dinner with a woman who appreciates good food and doesn’t want to chatter all through the meal.’

Floating on cloud nine, happy that he seemed to like her company and hadn’t found her silence dull, Caris glowed.

She already knew that she would always remember this lovely, romantic evening. An evening she never wanted to end.

But her father was a hard taskmaster; for the past few weeks, needing to get things done before her vacation, she had worked far into the night most nights and slept badly in consequence.

Now tiredness was starting to catch up with her, made even more soporific by too much alcohol; she found herself having to stifle a yawn.

Zander noticed at once. ‘About ready to go?’ he queried. ‘It’s getting late and you look tired.’

‘Yes, I’m ready.’ She managed a smile.

But after such a wonderful evening to return to her lonely apartment with its empty fridge and stripped bed seemed like a complete anti-climax, and her heart felt like lead.

‘Or perhaps you’d rather not go home tonight? It won’t be much fun going back to an empty apartment so late, especially with an injured ankle and no holiday to look forward to …’

Surprised by the way he had picked up so accurately what she was thinking and feeling, she asked, ‘How long have you been psychic?’

‘So I guessed right? You don’t want to go home?’

As lightly as possible, she said, ‘I don’t have much choice now I’m not going to Catona.’

‘Why not spend the night at my house?’

As her head came up, he added, ‘I ought to make it clear that this isn’t an indecent proposal. But as you don’t want to go home—’

Horrified in case he thought she had been angling for an invitation, she broke in sharply. ‘Oh no, I couldn’t possibly.’

‘Why not?’

‘I just couldn’t.’ Uncomfortably, she added, ‘I didn’t mean to sound as if I was …’

On her wavelength immediately, he heaved a mock sigh. ‘That’s a pity. I was rather hoping you wanted my company as much as I wanted yours. However, if you don’t, there’s always the river.’

Smiling in spite of herself, she said, ‘I just didn’t want you to think I was—’

‘I didn’t think anything of the kind. But, if by any chance I
had
, I assure you I would have been extremely flattered. So do come.’

‘I really couldn’t put you to so much trouble,’ she protested thickly.

‘It’s no trouble. Hallgarth has a perfectly good guest room, which my housekeeper always leaves made up, and we can be there in less than half an hour.’

Persuasively, he added, ‘Say yes, and after you’ve enjoyed a good night’s sleep we can have breakfast together before I take you home.’

Under normal circumstances, common sense would have insisted that she should say no and mean it. But too much alcohol had swamped both her usual reserve and her inhibitions. If truth be told, she was curious to see his house.

After a brief hesitation, she threw caution to the winds and agreed, ‘Very well, I’ll come.’

He smiled, a white, attractive smile that creased his lean cheeks and made her heart give a little lurch. ‘That’s good.’

Watching her stifle yet another yawn, he signalled to the waiter to bring her jacket, adding, ‘If I don’t get you home soon, you’ll be fast asleep.’

When he had paid the bill and added a generous tip, he lifted her into his arms.

At that moment Claude appeared and beamed at them. ‘I hope you have enjoyed a good meal and had a pleasant evening?’

‘We can answer a resounding yes to both those questions,’ Zander told him.

‘Then you must both come again as my guests.’

‘We’ll look forward to it.’

Their thanks and goodbyes said, they made their way out to the car.

When Caris was settled in the front passenger seat, Zander got behind the wheel and fastened both their seatbelts. In a matter of seconds they had left the lighted restaurant behind them.

Only when they were travelling down a deserted, tree-lined road, their headlights groping through the darkness like the luminous antennae of some insect, did she have second thoughts about the wisdom of what she was doing.

After all, it was far from sensible behaviour to go off into the blue with a man she scarcely knew, a man who, though he had talked about a housekeeper and a guest room, had a reputation as a Casanova.

As though he sensed her sudden unease, he glanced sideways at her in the weird, unearthly light from the dashboard.

‘Something wrong?’

‘No, not really …’ she mumbled.

‘I thought you might perhaps be regretting your decision to come?’

Her silence effectively answered his question.

‘What are you afraid of? That I might turn out to be a homicidal maniac?’

‘Of course not!’

‘Then you’re scared I’ll twirl an imaginary moustache and whisk you off into the woods like some pantomime villain?’

‘Hardly.’

‘But that’s closer to the mark?’

Once again her silence spoke for her.

He sighed. ‘I frankly admit that if you do want to share my bed I’ll be delighted. But, if you don’t, then you’ll be as safe as if you were in a nunnery.’

Though his tone was quizzical, her every instinct told her that he spoke the exact truth.

More seriously, he went on, ‘If I haven’t managed to set your mind at rest, and you really
don’t
trust me, say so at once and I’ll be happy to turn round and take you home.’

‘I do trust you. Implicitly,’ she added.

‘Thank you for that.’

He drove in silence for a while, then as they took the road that climbed steadily into the mountains he slanted her a glance.

She was asleep, her thick lashes making dark fans on her high cheekbones, her lovely mouth slightly parted. She looked both alluring and vulnerable, and he felt a strong urge to stop the car and kiss her.

When they reached Hallgarth and drew up in the pool of light cast by the porch lantern, she was still sound asleep.

Reluctant to disturb her, he left her where she was while he took her case and holdall up to the pleasant but seldom-used guest room.

Returning to the car, he lifted her out carefully and carried her up the hickory staircase. Laying her down on the bed, he removed her sandals before settling her dark head on the pillow and pulling up the lightweight duvet.

He had half-expected her to stir and open her eyes, but she remained soundly asleep until he finished his ministrations and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

When Caris awoke, she opened her eyes to a large, pleasant room with light modern furniture and apricot walls. A room that was totally strange to her.

Two long windows hung with fine muslin curtains looked out over well-tended lawns and colourful flowerbeds to a group of white wooden chalet-type buildings. Through a vine-hung trellis she could just glimpse the blue waters of a swimming pool.

For a moment or so she was at a complete loss, with no idea where she was or how she had got there.

Then it all came rushing back—the magical evening she had spent with Zander and his invitation to spend the night at his house.

So that solved the mystery of where she was; she was in Zander Devereux’s guest room. But the combination of tiredness and alcohol had zonked her so completely that she had no recollection of the journey, or of arriving here.

She was still wearing her dress, and her jacket was hung neatly over a nearby chair. Her evening bag was lying on the bedside table.

She must have his housekeeper to thank.

Wondering how long she had slept, she looked at her watch a little blearily and found it was mid-morning.

She still felt slightly muzzy from the unaccustomed drink, but a refreshing shower would help to clear her head and set her to rights.

Galvanized into action, she pushed back the duvet and swung her feet to the floor.

After removing the bandage and cautiously trying out her injured ankle, she found it was less painful than she had expected and she could just about walk on it with care.

The pale grey carpet was soft as smoke beneath her bare feet as she crossed to where her luggage had been placed on a low chest.