The Collector's Edition Volume 1 (19 page)

‘Do I pass?’ he asked, cocking a teasing eyebrow, aware that he was not lacking in any manliness.

She gave a self-conscious laugh. ‘I guess you could say you have my seal of approval.’

‘You have mine, too.’ She had a divine shape, petite but beautifully curved and her bones softly fleshed.

She flushed, her eyes glowing with pleasure. ‘I’ve never been in this kind of situation,’ she confessed.

He laughed. ‘Neither have I. No style at all. Spontaneous combustion.’

She giggled, a delightfully girlish sound, shy, nervous, yet rippling with elation. ‘I don’t think either of us gets top marks for control. Which makes us even.’

‘I like being even. I could take a lot of it.’

She didn’t demur. Harry felt a zing of elation. She was not going to back off. She wanted more, as he did.

She looked thoughtful as she continued dressing. She finished buttoning and zipping and started gathering up her hair, twisting it into a knot on top of her head. The action lifted her lovely breasts, reminding Harry of how they had felt against him. Desire shot through his loins again, and it took considerable willpower to reduce the surge of blood so that its effect wouldn’t be blatantly evident.

She finished pinning her hair in place and gave a helpless shrug as her eyes sought his in eloquent appeal. ‘I don’t know what to tell William. I don’t know where I am myself.’

‘As long as I stay here we’ll be lovers, Ashley.’

‘But you still intend to go back to England,’ she said flatly.

‘Yes. My place is there,’ he answered unequivocally. ‘It’s up to you to choose whether you’ll come with me or not.’

‘As your lover?’ she asked.

He paused to consider, weighing his answer carefully. ‘Let’s see what develops between us, Ashley. One thing I can say for certain. I don’t intend to be William’s
uncle,
so please don’t use that term in explaining where we are.’

‘So you aim to continue here as the butler,’ she said dryly.

He hesitated. Was this the moment for truth? If he confessed to who and what he really was, would she turn away from him in disgust at his deception? Perhaps feel hurtfully fooled, even over succumbing
to the desire that had swept them both into intimacy?

He didn’t want to risk bringing any element of change into that. He wanted to know how much more could be built on it, whether it would grow into the magical partnership of souls he craved. He needed more time with her, just as they were.

‘I want to be everything to you. I want your every need and desire to be answered by me. If it pleases you to let the established order go on, then so be it.’ He gave her a whimsical smile. ‘Being a butler doesn’t preclude me from being your lover until such time as you decide what you want.’

She slowly nodded. ‘We’ll need to be discreet. Especially in front of William.’

‘That probably would be best,’ he conceded reluctantly. ‘There’s no good in raising his expectations if you know you’ll never meet them, Ashley.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes. You,’ he said seriously. ‘I won’t be an
uncle
for William. I could be a father.’

She looked stunned. ‘You’re thinking of marriage?’

Why was she so surprised? Didn’t she know how special, how rare it was to have what they had just shared together? Maybe not with her limited experience.

‘Perhaps we could both think about it,’ he said gently. ‘I don’t even know if you’re receptive to another marriage after Roger. There’s much to explore and resolve between us.’

She said nothing. Her eyes were slightly glazed, her thoughts turned inward.

Harry decided to spell out the situation as he knew it would be for him. ‘Remember your question…what of the future?’

It snapped her attention to him.

‘As I see it, there are two futures for us,’ he went on. ‘What’s between us will either end in a beautiful memory…or marriage.’

She shuddered.

Harry didn’t know what it meant. He waited, watching her closely as she came to a decision, hoping he hadn’t pushed too far. But it was the plain truth. It would be one or the other.

He would never move in with a woman he couldn’t commit himself to. Such an arrangement offended his sense of honour. Nor would he move in with a woman who couldn’t or wouldn’t commit herself to him. It smacked of second-rate convenience. He had a need for all there could be in a fully committed partnership.

To his intense relief Ashley’s mouth slowly curved into a smile, although there was an ironic tilt to it. ‘Well, as my butler, perhaps you could bring me a nightcap after William is asleep tonight.’

Pleasure bubbled into a wide grin. ‘How fortunate I bought a dozen bottles of champagne this morning!’

‘Always so provident, Harry,’ she said, her eyes twinkling warmly as she crossed the office to where he stood sentinel at the door for her. She reached
up and kissed him, drawing quickly away to discourage a full embrace. ‘Thank you. Until tonight, then.’

She left him with that promise, and Harry was content. Eventually he would winkle out all of Ashley’s thoughts and feelings. He had another chance tonight. It was enough.

W
ILLIAM
was pretending to be engrossed in painting his soldiers when Ashley entered his bedroom. It was clear that he had said his piece and he wasn’t going to unsay it. Ashley had met with her wilful son’s passive resistance before.

‘I take it that you like Mr. Cliffton very much,’ she said dryly, settling onto the end of William’s bed.

‘He catches on real fast. He doesn’t treat me like a stupid kid. He doesn’t come the heavy adult. And he knows a lot of interesting stuff. Why shouldn’t I like him?’ came the belligerent reply.

‘No reason at all. I’m glad you do. I like him, too.’

William spun around on his chair, eyes bright with eagerness. ‘Then why don’t you grab him, Mum? He’d buy us all sorts of great things and he’s rich enough to take us to some super places. I bet he’d take me to Seaworld and Dreamworld and…’

‘William, he doesn’t want to stay in Australia,’ she broke in, cutting off his starry-eyed dreams. ‘He’s here for a while. Then he’ll go back to being a butler at Springfield Manor in England, and what he’s doing for us now, he’ll be doing for someone
else over there. He’s not really rich. The man he works for is rich.’

‘Then how come he’s got a Rolls Royce and a chauffeur and can buy anything he thinks of?’

‘Because that’s what his English boss told him to do while he’s here. It’s like…well, a holiday for him.’

William’s brow puckered. ‘Then why is he being our butler?’

It was too pertinent a question for Ashley to set aside. She took a deep breath as her mind flew through what she could say without revealing the real crux of the matter. William could have the tenacity of a bulldog. If she told him he was in line for an inheritance in England, she wouldn’t hear the end of it, and what it might do to his ego did not bear thinking about. She fixed on a discreet line and delivered it.

‘Over a hundred years ago, a member of your father’s family emigrated to Australia from England. Mr. Cliffton’s real boss has been researching his family tree and he found out we were very distantly related to him. He sent Mr. Cliffton to learn more about us. In return for living with us for a while, he’s being our butler.’

William chewed over this revelation for some time. ‘So the Rolls Royce isn’t Mr. Cliffton’s,’ he finally commented.

‘He has the use of it.’

‘And the money isn’t his?’

‘Not as I understand it. No.’

‘But he is a lot of fun to have around.’

‘Yes.’

He eyed Ashley speculatively. ‘He likes you a lot, Mum. He cares about what you want and what will please you. And the way he looks at you…’

Ashley could feel her cheeks heating up. Was their desire for each other transparent to her son? Would every look and gesture make a nonsense of discretion? Yet how could she possibly dismiss Harry now? She had to know more. Not to stretch this once-in-a-lifetime experience to its absolute limit would be a negation of the very best life had to offer.

‘I bet you could persuade him to stay if you worked at it, Mum,’ William said with confident calculation. ‘Even if he isn’t rich, I’d still like to have him as an uncle.’

Harry’s blunt declaration rang in her ears.
I won’t be an uncle for William.
Nor for her, either. It would be total commitment—his way—or goodbye and nothing more.

It was all very well for him to make decisions like that. He had had a beautiful relationship with Pen. He couldn’t imagine how marriage to Roger made marriage such a fearful step for her.

Why did it have to be marriage or nothing? He hadn’t married Pen. At least he hadn’t mentioned it. But Pen had been dying. There was a foreseeable end to it, no promise of a future together. No children.

Instinctively she lifted a hand to her stomach. What if she did conceive? Stupid to take risks when the outcome might not be what she wanted. She must do something about that. She had to be sensible.

She caught William’s hopeful look and knew she had to dash it. Harry would not be persuaded into being an uncle. He had made that issue decisively black and white. No greys.

‘I’m sorry, William. I’m afraid that’s impossible. You misunderstood Mr. Cliffton earlier. When he said he’d fight for me, he meant he would protect me from any harm. That’s what good butlers do.’

‘Oh!’ It was a sigh of disappointment. He reconsidered the situation then gave a resigned shrug. ‘I guess we’d better make the most of it while we can, Mum, but it’s an awful pity it can’t last. It would have been good having Mr. Cliffton in the family. He makes it better, doesn’t he?’

‘Yes. Yes, he does.’

Harry painted brighter colour into their lives, excitement and interest and wonderful surprises. Would it always be like that if they shared his world? Could it last? Or would the shining newness of it wear off? And after it did, would she be left toeing Harry’s line, or the line the master of Springfield Manor insisted upon, with submission to others’ will expected and taken for granted?

She had sworn never to marry again. But was she condemning herself to half a life? What she had
felt with Harry just now…Would it always feel so incredibly special with him, so exalting and… She felt her muscles spasm in an exquisite reminder of the sensations she had experienced.

Harry could make a great father for William. They certainly seemed to have struck up a happy rapport. But the commitment, the complete change of lifestyle would have long-range effects that were incalculable to her at the moment. Would she and William ever achieve a sense of belonging at Springfield Manor, as Harry clearly had? Deeply and irrevocably.

‘Do you miss not having a father, William?’ she asked, concerned that he was feeling the lack of a man to relate to.

He grimaced. ‘Yes and no. It kind of depends.’

‘On what?’

‘Well, it’s like mothers. I wouldn’t want one like Mrs. Stanton.’ He screwed up his nose to express his opinion of her motherly attributes. ‘And some of the kids have got fathers who just yell at them, picking on them because they haven’t done this right or that right. I figure I’ve got it pretty good, really. I mean, as far as mums go, you’re definitely the best.’

Ashley couldn’t help smiling, even though she knew William wasn’t above a little flattery to sweeten her up, thereby slithering out of a deserved scolding.

‘Has Mr. Cliffton got that family tree with my father on it?’ he suddenly asked.

‘Yes. He brought it with him.’

‘Can I ask him to show it to me?’

‘If you like.’ She couldn’t deny her son his paternal line. She hoped Harry would keep his promise not to tell William he was the only surviving heir to Springfield Manor.

‘Is it okay if I do it now?’

Harry had had ample time to get respectably dressed. She stood up. ‘Go ahead. I’m sure you’ll find it fascinating with all the stories Mr. Cliffton can tell you.’

‘Thanks, Mum.’

He scooted out of the room, his precious soldiers forgotten with the prospect of further dialogue with Harry. Whom he liked enough to have as an uncle even if he wasn’t rich.

What kind of husband would Harry make? As a lover he certainly left nothing to be desired.

She left William’s bedroom to go to her own, her son’s words echoing through her mind.
We’d better make the most of it while we can.

Ashley intended to do precisely that. Other decisions could wait. As Harry had said, there was much to resolve between them. In the meantime, she would store up beautiful memories.

T
HE
days slid by, magical summer days. Even more magical nights. Ashley was loath to bring any note of discord into the happiness of simply being with Harry. She asked no questions about his life in England. It was easy to pretend that was something far off when the immediacy of now overflowed with so many pleasures.

In many ways it was like some idealistic dream, too intoxicating to bring her head down from the clouds. Harry brought gaiety and spontaneity into her life. Inhibitions and planning flew out the window. Over and over again she found herself thinking, ‘Why not?’ and saying yes to whatever he suggested or initiated.

Their family outings were marvellous fun—a lazy afternoon at the beach, an exhilarating morning spent riding the breeze and the waves in a catamaran, a hilarious evening competing at minigolf, then eating monstrous hamburgers with the works. They picnicked by Somersby Falls and dined on fish and chips at Woy Woy wharf, watching the fishermen and the seagulls.

Both Harry and William inveigled her into sharing their interest in the test match cricket, abandoning work for the day, as she did most days
except for following through on absolute-must situations like setting up Cheryn Kimball in the new job she had scouted.

They rode to Sydney in the Rolls Royce, and were ensconced in a private box in the Brewongle Grandstand with a wonderful view of the cricket ground. Drinks were readily available at any time, and a scrumptious buffet lunch was served. She enjoyed watching Harry and William enjoying the game, both of them indulgently explaining the finer points of the batting and bowling to her.

But the nights far transcended the less intimate joys of the days. If their initial coming together had lacked style, Harry more than made up for it, imbuing all that followed with romance. They danced by candlelight and feasted on suppers of strawberries and caviar and lychee nuts washed down by French champagne. Ashley learnt the pleasures of sensuality and for the first time revelled in being a woman, desired, loved, adored and cherished by a man who made her feel she was utterly perfect for him.

When it came to the night of Olivia Stanton’s party, Ashley didn’t want to go, didn’t want to waste the time away from Harry. Nevertheless, the agreement had been made, and Harry took it for granted she would keep her word. He arranged for the Rolls Royce to be standing by to take her in the style Olivia expected, and he and William had their war game all set up to play while Ashley was out.

She felt quite flat-spirited as she dressed, although not to be completely outshone by her mode of transport, she made every effort to achieve an elegant appearance. It was also a matter of personal pride to feel at least equal to Olivia Stanton, who liked to queen it over everybody. Perhaps a touch of vanity entered into it, as well, an underlying urge to show the world, at least her little corner of it, she now knew what it was to be a woman.

Ashley didn’t have a wardrobe full of party clothes to choose from. Normally she had no need of them. The only appropriate choice was a black crepe wrap dress that she’d bought for a chamber of commerce dinner.

It had a halter neckline, which she dressed up with gold chains. She fiddled with her hair, achieving a smooth dipping loop across her forehead before sweeping the bulk of it into a soft chignon. A few strands were left curling around her ears, to which she attached long dangly earrings in jet and gold. Her T-bar black suede high heels had been an extravagance—she loved shoes—but they lent a touch of true class.

She applied more make-up than usual, darkening and adding definition to her eyelashes with mascara and deepening her lids with a smoky eye shadow. The black dress demanded red lipstick and a touch of blusher on her cheeks. A dusting of powder took the shine off her nose and added a smooth matt finish to her skin.

An examination of her reflection in the fulllength mirror assured her she couldn’t look any better. She dabbed some Beautiful perfume on her pulse points, picked up the black Oroton evening bag that had been a gift from Roger so long ago, then went downstairs, still feeling at odds about having to mix with other people when she would much rather stay at home.

It was a measure of how deeply Harry had infiltrated her life. When she had accepted the invitation from Olivia she had felt quite pleased about it. Her social calendar usually ran to lunches with friends she had made through business, or casual barbecues with families who had a child in the same class as William. She was neighbourly and supported community interests, but she wasn’t really close to anyone.

It had seemed enough before Harry. She had not been discontent with her life. Being single was a relief after marriage to Roger, and having kept so much to herself for the sake of appearances during the unhappy years with her husband, she had never developed the knack of cultivating bosom friends to whom she might pour out her heart.

She was a good listener, a sympathetic listener, and she thought she was generally liked by others, but no-one really knew her. Not as Harry did. She had told Harry things about herself, thoughts and feelings, she had never told anybody. He had somehow drawn that depth of intimacy from her, and now she wasn’t sure if it was good or bad.

It struck home that if she didn’t commit herself wholly and solely to him, Harry would leave an enormous hole in her life when he returned to Springfield Manor. In William’s, too, she suspected. Perhaps it was time she stopped existing in a wonderful dream and started considering the reality of a future in England. This party tonight might serve to put Harry’s influence on her in perspective, bring her feet to the ground.

He and William were in the dining room, their miniature battle lines in place on the table. They were discussing the rules of their war game when she entered, but they broke off their conversation as soon as they saw her.

‘Wow, Mum! You’re sure dressed up tonight!’ William remarked in surprise. ‘Is it a special party?’

She shrugged, feeling somewhat self-conscious about her uncharacteristic attempt at glamour. ‘I just wanted to look good and feel good.’

‘Then you’ve more than achieved your aim,’ Harry said warmly, his eyes agleam with appreciative interest as they skated over her from head to foot and returned to linger on the loosely tied bow at her waist, obviously the key to unwrapping the package. ‘Feeling good is important,’ he added, his gaze lifting to hers in wickedly innocent inquiry. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

Her pulse leapt in anticipation of how he would help later tonight. She could feel her body prickling with excitement as she imagined his hands teasing her dress apart, his head bending to…

The telephone rang.

‘I’ll get it,’ William offered, oblivious of the shimmering tension between Harry and his mother. He darted to the kitchen, leaving them together.

‘I’m not sure I should let you out of my sight, dressed like that,’ Harry murmured, his eyes ablaze with desire.

‘Afraid of competition?’ she teased, secretly revelling in feeling sexy.

‘No. But if the men at Olivia Stanton’s party get out of hand, don’t hesitate to call in the cavalry.’

She laughed. ‘That’s never happened to me.’

‘Ashley, you’re radiating your awareness of your own sexuality. That stirs a man’s hormones. All my hormones are rioting over you right now. I have an intense urge to smudge your lipstick and—’

‘Mr. Cliffton,’ William called excitedly. ‘It’s for you. Come quick. It’s from England.’

‘Uh-oh!’ Harry grimaced an apology and left her to answer the summons.

Trouble at Springfield Manor? In some trepidation, Ashley followed him into the kitchen, not wanting anything to change now, irresistibly drawn to eavesdrop on his side of the conversation. William handed the receiver to Harry and shamelessly stood by to listen, fascinated by the fact of an international call.

‘Cliffton.’

Apparently that was identification enough for the caller. What followed was not exactly enlightening.

‘Yes, sir,’ Harry said.

After a pause, ‘No, sir.’

It had to be his boss at Springfield Manor. Ashley couldn’t imagine Harry sirring anyone else. The heat that had been pumping from her heart cooled into a frightening chill. She desperately didn’t want any interference to what Harry had started with her and William.

‘That would seem improbable at the moment, sir. I have my hands full. Given more time…’

The interruption must have been a very peremptory one because Harry instantly stopped to listen. The reference to time did not bode well.

‘I understand, sir.’

A long pause. Ashley felt her whole body tensing with apprehension.

‘Arrangements can’t be made in a day, sir.’

A brief reply.

‘Very well, sir. I’ll keep you informed.’

That gave Ashley hope of a longer stay for Harry. However, the ensuing silence was obviously thick with words from the other end of the line. Instructions, orders…

‘Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best, sir.’

Harry hung up with a heavy sigh and turned to the two expectant faces hanging on his news. He addressed Ashley, a rueful smile accompanying his announcement.

‘That was George Fotheringham, the master’s voice.’

‘What does he want?’ she asked anxiously.

‘He misses me.’

Who wouldn’t miss Harry?

‘He says a good butler is irreplaceable.’

He was. Irreplaceable in every sense. Ashley couldn’t argue with that.

‘Does that mean you can’t be our butler any more?’ William asked plaintively, and Ashley sensed her son feeling a pit of emptiness opening before him, just as she did.

‘He insists that he needs me at the Manor,’ Harry stated in a tone that made it an inevitable reality.

Ashley frantically sought a delaying tactic. ‘What about your mission?’ she pleaded.

‘Yes,’ William instantly backed her up. ‘You haven’t learnt nearly enough about us yet, Mr. Cliffton. I haven’t told you any of the stuff Mum doesn’t know about.’

‘William!’ Ashley was distracted by the horrors of misbehaviour this confession implied.

‘It was for your own good, Mum, so as not to worry you,’ he hastily and piously explained.

‘As it happens,’ Harry drawled, capturing their attention again, ‘Mr. Fotheringham has come up with a solution that he hopes will prove satisfactory to both of you.’

‘What?’ William asked eagerly.

Ashley held her breath. Her eyes clung helplessly to Harry’s. Was he about to reveal the truth about William’s position?

His smile had a winning appeal. ‘That you accompany me to England for a month’s visit at Springfield Manor. All expenses paid, of course.’

‘You mean we get to fly on a jumbo jet and…’ William raved on, delirious with excitement at the prospect of the great adventure being held out to him. ‘Every night ghost hunting…’

A month, Ashley thought dazedly. A month of learning what Harry’s life was like. She could put up with any amount of condescension and feeling like a fish out of water as long she could be with Harry whenever he was free. And if she could never feel comfortable with the life over there, the option was open for her to return home. It was like a miracle, handing her what she needed but not locking her into an irrevocable position.

‘Ashley?’ Harry asked quietly.

‘You can’t say no, Mum,’ William expostulated, his eyes as big as saucers and his mind whirling with visions of plenty.

No doubt George Fotheringham would be subjected to her son’s entrepreneurial skills for the entire month. And since William was his heir… Was this offer a trap to keep them there? She looked uncertainly at Harry.

It was as though he read her mind. ‘You retain all authority where William is concerned, Ashley,’ he stated unequivocally.

His word was good enough for her. Harry had never done her any wrong. She trusted him. Implicitly.

‘Please, Mum. Please, please, please…’

Her relief and joy broke into a happy smile. ‘We’d be delighted to accompany you, Harry.’

‘Yippee!’ William cried in an ecstasy of anticipation. ‘I forgive you for all your other wrongs, Mum.’

Done,
thought Harry, his answering smile widening to an irrepressible grin. The gamble had paid off. Of course, he’d loaded the odds on his side. The timing and execution of the critical telephone call had been perfect, the outcome reasonably assured with William as dependable an ally as Harry had ever had. Not that the boy was aware of it. He was simply a natural at going after what he wanted with whatever means was available to him. As Harry was.

Good and faithful George could protest and scold as much as he liked, but he would carry out Harry’s will. George’s sense of service and duty would always prevail, no matter how disapproving he was of the scheme in hand. Not that he should be disapproving. After all, if Harry made everything turn out right, George would have the very result he desired when he had so purposefully reminded Harry of
his
duty.

It was up to Harry to pursue his chosen course with vigour. ‘Do you have current passports?’

‘You bet we do,’ William supplied. ‘Mum got them last year when we were booked to go to Fiji, only I came down with the chicken pox and we couldn’t go. But just about everyone’s gone to Fiji. England will be heaps better.’

William wouldn’t have time for much bragging. Harry moved into step two of his new mission, focusing
his attention on Ashley. ‘I’ll see to your visas on Monday and book a flight to London for Tuesday if there are seats available.’

‘So soon!’ She looked stunned.

‘Those are my instructions.’

‘But what about my business?’

‘We’ll attend to whatever is necessary. Everything will be looked after.’

He could see she instinctively recoiled from being rushed, her cautious nature wanting to think it all through. That could invite trouble he’d rather avoid.

‘You’ll be late arriving at Olivia Stanton’s party if we don’t move now,’ he reminded her, stepping forward to usher her to the front door. ‘I’ll be back shortly, William.’

Ashley felt her mind was split into at least a dozen pieces, zigzagging off in all directions. As she reached the hallway she gathered enough wits to admonish her precocious son. ‘You behave yourself, William,’ she said sternly. ‘And you are
not
to ask for anything. Do you hear me?’