Running From the Storm (9 page)

Watching her, he noticed how unsteady her hands were, and how that telltale pulse fluttered frantically at her throat.

His looks and background meant that usually women threw themselves at him, but something about this particular woman—a certain reserve, a hint of wariness—convinced him that no matter how much she wanted him she wouldn’t make the first move.

Though it would be easy for him to seduce her.

Even as the thought went through his mind he knew that this time he wanted more than just an easy seduction. More than just a brief fling.

He wasn’t sure as yet how
much
more, but already he recognised that their budding relationship mattered, and it was too important to risk spoiling it by rushing things. And taking her to bed now might rush things. Though in some ways he felt as if he had always known her, they had only met twenty-four hours ago.

Suppressing a sigh, he turned away to pull the table into a more convenient position. Then, his face schooled into a bland mask, he helped her to her feet and into a chair before passing her a plate, a knife and a napkin.

She was still feeling distinctly shaken when he sat down opposite and urged, ‘Why don’t you make a start while the toast’s hot?’

Taking care to keep her eyes on what she was doing, she obeyed. His attitude was so relaxed, so matter-of-fact, that she found herself wondering if she could have possibly misread his earlier expression.

Yet she knew she hadn’t. How he had looked at that moment seemed burnt into her brain, as was her own response to that look.

If he had made a move … But thankfully he hadn’t.

Thankfully?
Who was she trying to kid? When he had turned away, her overriding emotion had been disappointment.

But she must remember what had happened with Karl.

While she was sure Zander wasn’t the uncaring swine that Karl had been, if she went to bed with him it was almost bound to end the same way.

And that meant with tears, regrets and her pride and self-respect in tatters. Bearing that in mind, she
must
steer clear of temptation.

CHAPTER FIVE

THEY finished the simple meal without another word being spoken. Still off-balance, Caris couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and Zander seemed to be sunk in thought.

When their plates and mugs were empty, he loaded everything on to the tray and took it through to the kitchen.

Comfortably warm, Caris was just drifting into a doze when the latch clicked, announcing his return.

Rousing herself, she sat up straighter.

‘Tired?’ he asked.

About to admit that she was, she hesitated.

‘If you want an early night …?’

The memory of her earlier erotic imaginings made her cheeks grow pink. She denied, ‘No, no, I don’t!’

Wondering at the vehemence of her reply, he queried, ‘Sure?’

‘Quite sure.’ Involuntarily, she pulled the lapels of her robe together over her breasts.

Watching her, and speculating about the significance of that gesture, he suggested, ‘Then suppose we have a nightcap?’

Having tossed a couple of logs into the stove, sending up a shower of bright sparks, he produced a bottle of Benedictine from a nearby cupboard and two balloon glasses.

When he had swirled a generous amount of the golden liquid into the glasses, he handed her one before resuming his seat.

Still a little ill at ease, she stared fixedly into the flames while she sipped her drink. After a while, made even more sleepy by the alcohol, she was forced to stifle a yawn.

‘Ready for bed now?’ he enquired easily.

‘Yes, I … I suppose so. Somehow it’s been a long day,’ she added.

‘But on the whole an enjoyable one, I hope?’

‘Very enjoyable.’

‘I’m glad,’ he said, and meant it.

Rising to his feet, he began to build up the fire. Catching her surprised glance, he explained, ‘I usually keep the stove on.’

‘Even in summer?’

‘As I mentioned earlier we’re fairly high up here, so even in summer the nights can be rather cool. Added to that, I sometimes have an early-morning dip in the lake …’ He broke off laughing as she shuddered theatrically.

‘Yes, it can be quite … refreshing,’ he agreed. ‘So when I’ve towelled off it’s nice to have breakfast by the stove.’

‘That part I can go along with wholeheartedly.’

‘In that case, we’re all set for tomorrow morning. Now we need to decide on something for you to wear to sleep in.’

‘What about a spare pyjama top, if you have one?’

‘Never wear the things. But I’ve just thought of something that might do.’

He went to the bedroom area and, sliding open the doors of the built-in storage space, returned with a navy-blue tee shirt. ‘This will no doubt bury you, but it’s the smallest thing I have.’

Accepting the soft cotton garment, she said, ‘Thank you, that will be fine.’

‘Then you can have first turn in the bathroom.’

Picking up an oil lamp and the kettle of water that had been heating on the stove, he led the way, remarking, ‘I’m afraid there’s not a lot of hot water, but there should be a spare toothbrush and anything else you may need in the cupboard.’

He placed the kettle on the floor and the lamp on a shelf, where it cast strange shadows, and then he went, closing the door behind him.

When she had cleaned her teeth, she poured half the hot water into the sink, steaming up the mirror, and reluctantly took off her robe.

The air felt decidedly chill and she washed quickly, shivering a little, pulling on the tee shirt. It was thigh-length and the shoulders were much too wide, but it felt easy and comfortable, and it was oddly exciting to be wearing something that Zander had worn.

Having no wish to look seductive—in fact, quite the opposite—she brushed her long silky hair and fastened it into a single thick braid.

Then, very conscious of her bare legs, she pulled on the robe once more before returning to the warmth of the living room as fast as her ankle would allow.

Glancing up, Zander asked, ‘Manage all right?’

‘Yes, thanks. I’ve left you half the hot water.’

‘Oh generous woman! In that case I’ll go and make use of it. By the way, there’s no need to wait for me. If you want to go to bed, feel free.’

But, shying away from the thought of the coming night, she went back to her chair by the stove and stretched her slim bare feet to the blaze.

While she had been gone, Zander had put a pillow and a couple of blankets on the couch, ready for use.

But it was ridiculous! she realized belatedly. The couch was far too short for a man of his height. It would make more sense for her to sleep on it.

Had she been a different sort of woman, they could have shared the bed. But, while casual sex might work for some, she had never thought it was for her. Her one disastrous brush with passion had only served to confirm that.

Even so, while a pool of molten heat began to form in the pit of her stomach, she found herself imagining what it would like to lie in his arms, to have him kiss her while those long-fingered hands touched her intimately …

‘Still up?’

She jumped a mile as Zander resumed his chair.

‘I thought you were ready for bed?’

Hoping he would put her high colour down to the warmth of the fire, she said, ‘The trip to the bathroom woke me up.’

He smiled at her. ‘In that case, I’ll join you by the fire for a while …’

Caris had heard no sound, but something—a kind of awareness that she was no longer alone—brought her back to the present with a start.

While she had been sitting in Gracedieu’s kitchen immersed in the past the sky had turned as black as night. The kitchen was in semi-darkness as she looked up, Zander’s smiling face still filling her mind.

Dressed in smart casuals, he was standing there in the gloom as though her thoughts had conjured him up. His hair was still the colour of ripe corn, and his handsome face was just as she remembered, but he wasn’t smiling. In fact, she had never seen his expression so grim and set.

For an instant shock seemed to stop her heart. Then, unable to believe what her eyes were telling her, she blinked to clear her vision.

But he continued to stand there staring at her.

For what seemed an age she simply gaped at him, unable to take it in, more than half-convinced he was simply an hallucination.

Then, her heart racing, she croaked, ‘Zander?’

Still he didn’t speak. Rising to her feet, she said through stiff lips, ‘What are you doing here?’

His attractive voice brusque, he answered, ‘Waiting to see over the manor.’

Still her brain refused to kick into action. ‘See over the manor …?’ she echoed.

Taking in her neat appearance—the coiled hair, the leather court-shoes, the businesslike suit and briefcase—he said, ‘Surely you’re here to represent Carlton Lees estate agency?’

‘Well, yes,’ she agreed weakly. ‘But my appointment was with a Mr Grayson.’

‘I’m here in his place.’

‘Here in his place?’ she echoed. Half-shaking her head, she said, ‘You don’t mean you work for him?’

‘No. He works for me. You see, while he’s the nominal head of Grayson Holdings, I own it.’

So it was Zander who was interested in buying Gracedieu. If only she had known that, wild horses wouldn’t have dragged her here.

‘How did you know where to find me?’ The moment the words were out, she realized what a foolish question it had been and felt her colour rise.

He gave no quarter. ‘I was expecting you to be somewhere in the vicinity, and I could hardly miss the car parked outside,’ he replied sardonically.

There was something in his manner, a kind of grim satisfaction, that made her wonder: had he known exactly who would be representing Carlton Lees?

While she had been knocked sideways to see him, he didn’t seem at all surprised to see her. Was it simply that he was better at hiding his feelings? Or was it possible that he had planned this meeting?

No, why should he have?

When they had parted three years ago there had been distrust and animosity on both sides, and nothing had happened to change that.

In any case he couldn’t have known she was living in England. No one knew. And, if he’d thought about it at all, he would have been expecting her to follow a career in law, not be working as an estate agent. So it had to be just a devastating coincidence.

Becoming aware that he was standing quietly waiting, his eyes on her face, she struggled to pull herself together. No matter how difficult she found the situation, she still had a job to do.

Trying for a businesslike manner, she asked, ‘I presume you would like to look over the house first before you see the estate and the cottages?’

‘It seems the logical way to do it,’ he said, making her feel a complete fool for asking.

Flustered, she went on, ‘It’s quite dark in here, though I’m afraid I didn’t think to bring a torch and the electricity’s been turned off.’

‘No electricity, dear me!’

As she gritted her teeth, annoyed that he was making fun of her, he drawled, ‘Oh well, I dare say we’ll manage somehow.’

Wanting desperately to turn and run, but feeling forced to go through with the viewing, she took a steadying breath. Outwardly calm and collected in spite of the emotional turmoil that raged inside, she turned to lead the way.

‘Then if you’d like to follow me …?’

It sounded ridiculously pompous and, realizing she was making things worse, she felt her face grow hot; she was pleased that the shadows hid her embarrassment.

Caris paused to open the door when a cool hand touched her burning cheek, making her jump convulsively. She took an involuntary step backwards and, her heart racing, found herself trapped in the angle between the door and wall.

Zander was even taller than she remembered, his shoulders broader, his closeness overpowering as he stood blocking her escape route.

His fingers lingering lightly on her cheek, he commented softly, ‘So you still blush … Seeing you look so businesslike and composed made me wonder.’

Finding it almost impossible to draw air into her lungs, she stood still as any statue.

Innocently, he asked, ‘Something wrong?’

‘No, nothing,’ she lied breathlessly.

‘That’s good.’

When he removed his hand she hurried to make her escape into the hall, with a gasp of relief she feared was audible.

But at once he was with her, much too big, much too male, and she felt half-suffocated by his nearness.

‘Let me see, there are how many rooms?’ he queried casually.

Convinced that he already knew quite well how many rooms there were, she drew a deep, steadying breath and said, ‘Twenty-three. Downstairs, apart from the hall, there are two good-sized reception rooms, the living-kitchen you’ve already seen, a formal living-room, a breakfast room, a dining room, a study-cum-library and two bathrooms. Upstairs there are eight bedrooms, three dressing rooms and two bathrooms.

‘The attics were once the servants’ quarters, but what used to be a large stable block has been converted into garages with modern accommodation above it for the household staff.’

‘Know the dimensions?’

‘Certainly …’ In her most businesslike manner, she reeled off the information.

‘How very brisk and efficient,’ he murmured with mock admiration.

‘How very nice of you to say so,’ she responded sweetly.

He gave her a sharp glance and said no more.

She was just congratulating herself on keeping her cool when a flash of lightning followed by a loud clap of thunder made her flinch; rain began to beat against the mullioned windows.

As they moved through the low-ceilinged rooms, the light was so bad that they could hardly see where they were going.

From time to time, whether intentionally or accidentally, Zander’s arm brushed hers. Whenever they paused he seemed able to herd her into a corner so that she felt confined, trapped.

Indicating the dark shapes shrouded in dust sheets, he queried, ‘Why is there still furniture here?’

‘The beneficiary lives in Australia,’ Caris explained. ‘As he hates flying, he didn’t want to make the trip over to England, so he decided to have the most valuable things removed for auction. As he’s hoping for a quick sale, he left everything else in situ for the new owner to dispose of as he or she wished.’

‘Then he’s not likely to change his mind about selling?’ Zander asked.

‘No. He has no interest whatsoever in the house or the estate. All he cares about is getting his money as quickly as possible.’

‘Does that mean he might be willing to drop the price?’

‘He won’t need to,’ she said with certainty. ‘There’s already a lot of interest in the property, and several people waiting to view.’

‘And are all your prospective clients willing to purchase the entire estate as it stands?’ Zander asked shrewdly.

He had unerringly put his finger on the main stumbling block. With such an enormous amount of money involved, at least two of the people on her list only wanted to buy the manor itself.