Hunter's Moon

Bethany hung on to Jonas until the very last minute, making it impossible for Cassandra and Jonas to talk privately again. Cassandra was glad of the respite, and she knew Jonas wasn’t bothered by the delay, because he expected to be talking to her again later on this evening. Cassandra shivered, glad once again that she had made other plans.

Bethany turned away now from the door where she had been standing forlornly waving to her uncle until the tail-lights of his car had completely disappeared. ‘Can’t Uncle Jonas come and live with us?’ She looked up at Cassandra appealingly.

Cassandra had been deep in thought, but this brought her sharply back into the present. This was the second time tonight her young daughter had made such a statement, and the sooner she was firmly told it wasn’t even a possibility, the better! ‘I wanted to talk to you about that, darling,’ she told Bethany firmly as she sat her down in one of the armchairs.

It was still quite early when Cassandra arrived at her mother’s house—deliberately so on her part; she was determined she wouldn’t run into Jonas there now.

Her mother, she was informed, was still dressing for dinner, and so Cassandra sat down to wait for her. It was more imperative than ever that Jonas not be drawn any deeper into their personal lives than he already was; the man had the power—and the ruthlessness!—to destroy all of them, if he chose to do so.

Her mother was a good hostess; she had a fire burning brightly in the hearth to give the elegant lounge, with its pale cream and peach décor, a welcoming warmth, the family dining table, rather than the large formal one in a separate room, laid for dinner, the silver shining brightly, the crystal wine glasses sparkling in the firelight, the delicate posy of roses in the centre of the table perfectly matching the peach and cream in the rest of the room.

Cassandra stood up as her mother came into the room; she was much taller than her petite mother, and their colouring was completely different too, her mother’s auburn hair going graciously—and expertly!—grey now. Joy looked the most like their mother; both women were short and slim, with beautifully even features, eyes a deep blue. But her mother and Joy, her two closest relatives, had always seemed a little like an alien species to Cassandra.

They lived their lives on such a superficial level, going to the beauty salon twice a week, lunching with friends, being seen in all the ‘right’ places, knowing all the ‘right’ people, likewise wearing all the ‘right’ clothes, both of them always immaculately dressed for the occasion. And both of them would recoil in horror at the mere suggestion that they should ever actually work a single day of their lives to pay for all that luxury they took so much for granted! Cassandra had always stood out like a duckling among such beautifully elegant swans…

She had never been able to understand how her mother and Joy could live such vacuous lives. But if she felt that way about them she knew her mother didn’t understand her way of life any better. Her mother had given up on Cassandra when, at the age of seventeen, she had insisted on going to art college rather than the exclusive finishing-school her parents had picked out in Switzerland for their two daughters. Even worse, when Cassandra had left college two years later, she had gone to work for a major London fashion house, not as a model or designer herself, but as assistant to a designer. Humble beginnings—much to her mother’s obvious disgust; there had never been anything humble about either Marguerite or Joy Kyle!

Even the relative success she had had as a designer herself hadn’t exactly redeemed her in her mother’s eyes: she still worked for a living. But at least Cassandra’s choice of husband, after years of having her actions looked on with dismay, had met with her mother’s approval—although even that new-found respectability had taken a knock in her mother’s eyes, she knew, when Charles had died so suddenly: it simply wasn’t the done thing to become a widow at only twenty-four years of age!

Her mother looked as graciously lovely as usual this evening, her auburn hair elegantly grey at the temples, her black below-the-knee dress perfect for this small family dinner-party—although she looked slightly disconcerted to see that Cassandra was also dressed for dinner, wearing the pale gold gown Bethany had requested.

Cassandra smiled, taking pity on her mother. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not gatecrashing your dinner party; I’m going on somewhere.’

Her mother couldn’t quite hide her relief. ‘You’re welcome to join us if you would like to,’ she said politely now that she knew Cassandra had no intention of staying.

Cassandra’s smile widened. ‘No, thanks. I’m meeting Simeon later——’

‘Oh, really, Cassandra.’ Her mother looked irritated now. ‘That dreadful young man!’

That ‘dreadful young man’, her own assistant at the salon she ran in town still, had helped get her through the last difficult months. But he wasn’t ‘top-drawer’ enough for her mother, coming from a working-class background; it didn’t matter that he was also kind and caring, and that Cassandra liked him very much.

‘Never mind Simeon,’ she dismissed lightly. ‘He isn’t the reason I’m here.’ She glanced across at the intimately laid dinner table. ‘Five places, Mother?’

Her mother looked disconcerted again. ‘Godfrey is joining us for dinner,’ she dismissed.

‘Us’ was obviously Joy, Colin, and Marguerite. Godfrey Chorley was an old family friend who had become very helpful to her mother as a partner for social evenings since the death of her husband a year ago. At almost sixty, Godfrey seemed a confirmed bachelor, and after only a few minutes spent it his company it was easy to see why: Godfrey, as fond as Cassandra was of him, was easily the most boring man she had ever met!

Cassandra arched black brows. ‘And the fifth?’

‘Jonas,’ her mother supplied offhandedly. ‘I do feel so sorry for the dear man; he seems to know so few people in England, and——’

‘Spare me that, please, Mother,’ Cassandra cut in impatiently. ‘If Jonas spends a lot of his time alone, it’s because he chooses to,’ she said knowingly; Jonas, for all his coldness with her, was an extremely attractive man, could have his pick of women to share his life.

‘Well, anyway, he’s coming to dinner this evening too,’ her mother announced almost challengingly—a challenge Cassandra was only too happy to meet!

‘Why?’ she prompted softly.

‘I’ve just——’

‘Why, Mother?’ she repeated firmly, easily meeting her mother’s searching gaze.

‘Bethany!’ her mother finally realised. ‘She was here earlier when we were discussing…! Joy has a perfect right to ask whom she wants to give her away,’ she said in defence of her youngest daughter.

‘It wasn’t so long ago Joy was chasing after Jonas for quite another reason,’ Cassandra reminded her drily, perfectly aware that when Jonas had first returned to England her sister had been very attracted to him indeed. But while Jonas hadn’t seemed averse to having Joy reacquaint him with London he hadn’t been interested in anything more than that from her, Joy had told her disappointedly one day. Cassandra had been most embarrassed by the whole incident; she had been sure Jonas was secretly laughing at them all for her sister’s obvious ambitions where he was concerned. Joy’s engagement to Colin was a relatively new thing, and Cassandra just hoped it was for the right reasons; Colin was nowhere near as ‘primitively exciting’ as Joy had claimed she thought Jonas was! Still, that was Joy’s problem, not hers. Her problems were much more pressing than that.

‘And if she had succeeded it might just have been the answer for all of us,’ her mother snapped angrily.

Cassandra looked at her mother closely. ‘And just what do you mean by that remark?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ her mother said with impatient dismissal—although she wasn’t quite meeting Cassandra’s gaze, she noticed with a frown. Did her mother know more than she was prepared to say…?

‘It would have been the perfect arrangement if we could have kept the company in the family,’ her mother continued briskly. ‘As it is, Jonas could eventually marry anybody, and then where will we all be?’ She frowned.

Exactly where they were now, Cassandra would have thought. Unless her mother did know something…

‘Don’t start being difficult about this, Cassandra,’ her mother told her shortly. ‘The decision has been made, and nothing you say will make any difference.’

‘But do you have to ask him now?’ She frowned. ‘What’s the urgency?’

‘There is no urgency,’ her mother shrugged. ‘We just thought it would be a nice gesture, what with the time of year and everything.’

A time of year when Jonas was much less likely to refuse, Cassandra realised ruefully, her own hands tied for very much the same reason. ‘Mother——’

‘Do stop calling me Mother in that disapproving way of yours,’ she was told impatiently. ‘Either Mummy, or Marguerite, if you prefer, but Mother makes me sound like some matriarchal monster!’

Her mother was tense and agitated, she could see. Admittedly, she also having been widowed, the last year had been as difficult for her mother as it had for her, but at the same time her mother had seemed to be coping, her life continuing to run in its usually smooth way. What had happened to change that? Unless her mother did know something. Colin was Jonas’s assistant, so he would know all about the audit Jonas had ordered. Maybe that was why——

‘Mr Chorley, madam,’ the butler came into the room to announce after knocking quietly.

‘Thank you, Jenkins,’ she accepted vaguely. ‘Show him in, will you?’ She turned to Cassandra once they were alone again. ‘Just drop this for now, Cassandra,’ she hissed impatiently. ‘It’s absolutely none of Godfrey’s business.’

‘I would have thought Godfrey was the more obvious choice to give Joy away,’ she began reasoningly. ‘He——’

‘He’s a family friend, nothing more,’ her mother snapped. ‘Even if he would like to be more than that. Especially as he would like to be more than that.’ She was becoming agitated once again. ‘Cassandra, Jonas is very important to all our lives, so please just stop being difficult where he’s concerned!’ she pleaded anxiously.

Cassandra was prevented from saying anything more on the subject by Godfrey’s arrival, quickly followed by Joy and Colin joining them. As it could only be a matter of minutes before Jonas arrived too she quickly made her excuses!

But she was so preoccupied when she finally met Simeon at the restaurant that she couldn’t have been much company for him. Not that he complained; they didn’t have that sort of relationship—Simeon was more like a brother to her than anything else, despite what the rest of the family might think to the contrary.

Simeon had turned up at her London salon one day three years ago, short and dark-haired, at twenty-six nevertheless managing to look perpetually boyish, with no qualifications except a wonderful eye for colour and design, a fact he had proved only too well when on that very first occasion he had told her her displays were all wrong and offered to do them for her! The difference he had made in a very short time had convinced her she should employ him. It was a decision she had never regretted—although not even Simeon’s obvious talents could alter the fact that her business was in deep financial trouble. She wasn’t even sure she would be able to continue to employ him after the expense of putting out the spring collection!

But because Cassandra was so caught up in her own thoughts she cut the evening short, driving herself home again, wondering when she would be able to see Jonas again to finish their conversation. She certainly hadn’t been expecting him to be waiting for her when she got home!

But she would know that dark green Jaguar anywhere, and she glanced warily over at the house as she locked her own car before going inside. Obviously Jonas had decided they should finish this conversation tonight!

Jean looked at her with raised brows as she entered the house. ‘Mr Hunter is in the sitting-room,’ she said ruefully; obviously she hadn’t had any choice about letting him wait in there for Cassandra to come home!

‘Thanks, Jean.’ Cassandra squeezed her arm reassuringly, leaving her bag on the hall table to go through to the sitting-room, straightening her back defensively as she entered.

Jonas stood beside the unlit fireplace, watching her with narrowed eyes as she came in and quietly closed the door behind her. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ he rasped accusingly.

She gasped at his direct attack. ‘I don’t think that’s any of your——’

‘You knew damn well I had assumed you would be at your mother’s this evening,’ he bit out impatiently.

She shook her head. ‘I didn’t say I would be,’ she reasoned, the two of them facing each other like adversaries across the width of the fireplace.

The perfectly tailored black dinner-suit and snowy white shirt Jonas wore did little to hide the fact that these trappings of civilisation were merely that—a veneer of sophistication that did little to hide the contempt he felt for the polite conventions that meant he had to dress this way to go to dinner at her mother’s house.

‘No, you didn’t say that,’ he accepted harshly. ‘But you knew I thought it anyway.’

What he thought and what was actually fact were two entirely different things! ‘What do you want, Jonas?’ she sighed wearily.

‘I wanted to finish our earlier conversation,’ he ground out impatiently. ‘But now I want to know where you were and who you were with this evening.’

Cassandra frowned. ‘I don’t think that’s any of your business,’ she repeated, this time actually being allowed to finish the statement!

‘Young Grey, I suppose,’ he grated, his gaze narrowed on her speculatively. ‘Oh, yes, Cassandra, I’ve heard the rumours of your affair with him.’ His mouth twisted contemptuously.

‘My what?’ she gasped incredulously. ‘I’m not having an affair with Simeon!’ she protested irritably. ‘He and I are friends——’

‘You go out together,’ Jonas accused.

‘Well—yes,’ she acknowledged, colour entering her cheeks. ‘But as friends. Not that I can see what it has to do with you anyway——’

‘You’re my brother’s widow, the mother of my niece, of course it interests me what men you have in your life——’

‘I don’t have “men” in my life,’ Cassandra protested heatedly. ‘Only Simeon. And he——’

“‘Only Simeon”,’ Jonas echoed tauntingly. ‘What is it, Cassandra? Is he no danger because his tastes don’t run to women?’

‘Simeon has a normal interest in women as far as I know,’ she defended, indignant on his behalf; just because Simeon was involved in the fashion business didn’t mean he was automatically homosexual.

‘As far as you know,’ Jonas repeated softly, moving in that stealthy way of his now, suddenly standing very close to her. ‘Hasn’t he tried to make love to you yet?’ he challenged.

She swallowed hard, her cheeks feeling very warm now. ‘Of course he hasn’t!’ she snapped, wishing he wouldn’t stand so close to her; she was starting to feel very hot indeed, all over!

Jonas’s hand came up to cup one side of her heated face, his eyes narrowed on her widely distressed ones. ‘Why don’t I believe you?’ he murmured softly. ‘Possibly because of the passion I see here.’ His thumb-pad moved caressingly close to her wide golden eyes. ‘And the promise I can feel here.’ That thumb moved over her bottom lip now. ‘And the desire that pulses here.’ His hand moved down to the hollows of her throat, gently caressing still. ‘I was right about this dress, Cassandra,’ he told her softly, looking down at her body sheathed in the gold-coloured gown. ‘You do look like a high priestess in it.’

He was standing so close to her now that Cassandra could feel the heat of his body, and the touch of that marauding hand was doing strange things to her limbs; she was having difficulty standing up! She swayed slightly towards him, and as she did so she saw the light of triumph in his eyes, starting to pull back as she did so.

But it was too late; Jonas had already thrust her away from him, looking at her coldly now. ‘No,’ he rasped harshly, ‘I don’t believe you at all, Cassandra.’ He looked at her contemptuously. ‘You and Charles must have made a great pair, he so self-centred and you so glad to give him what he wanted as long as you got what you wanted in return!’

‘Get out,’ Cassandra choked. ‘Get out of my house.’ It was still hers—just!

Jonas’s mouth twisted. ‘Quite like old times!’ He taunted, reminding her of the fact that she had thrown him out the first time he had come here too. ‘Oh, I’m going, Cassandra, don’t worry. I had wanted to talk to you again before I left for the States in the morning but——’

‘You’re going to America tomorrow?’ Cassandra gasped incredulously; he had given no indication of that earlier today.

His eyes narrowed. ‘Is there some problem with that?’

‘Well, no… But——’

‘Good,’ he accepted with brisk dismissal. ‘We can talk again when I get back.’

Cassandra hurried after him as he strode over to the door. ‘But——’

‘Yes, Cassandra?’ He turned so sharply that she almost walked into him. She looked up into the hard coldness of his face, shivering slightly at the cruelty she could see there; he knew exactly what he was doing, was well aware of how worried she was about the conversation they had had earlier. Damn him!

‘Nothing,’ she told him through gritted teeth. ‘It can wait until you get back.’

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