Bittersweet Deception

He continued to regard her for a moment with a slightly puzzled expression, then abruptly glanced at his watch. ‘It’s time to start work, Kate. You can begin by cooking me some breakfast.’

‘You’d better take me back, then, Mr Warwick. I can’t have you passing out from hunger in “these enchanted woods”. It would be too bad if you were spirited away by a passing fairy.’

‘There are things far more dangerous than fairies in the woods, Miss Thornley. Innocent-looking young women who look as if butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths, for one.’

Kate felt the hot colour burning her cheekbones. ‘How do you like your eggs?’ she demanded, finally managing to wrench her arm from his. Presumably because he was no longer interested in holding it.

‘Cooked,’ he said, and smiled slightly. ‘And on a plate, in case you had any more unconventional plans for them.’ He opened the door for her and followed her into the kitchen. ‘I’ll eat in here. With you.’

Kate wrapped herself in an apron and went into the pantry for a bowl of eggs. ‘Cooked on a plate,’ she muttered angrily to herself. Kate put some bacon in a pan and placed it on the Aga rather firmly. Damn Jay Warwick, she thought angrily to herself, then applied herself to the task of providing the wretched man with breakfast. She added a couple of rashers of bacon to the pan. The early morning walk had sharpened her appetite and she smiled ruefully.

At least if she was eating it would give her something to do with her hands. Strangling the world’s favourite bachelor wouldn’t win her any friends on a jury. The door opened behind her but she made no indication that she heard, instead giving her total attention to the perfect execution of her eggs.

‘That smells good.’

‘I’m a very good cook.’ She dished up the food and placed it on the table, marvelling at the steadiness of her hand. She met his eyes.

‘I know. Sit down and eat your breakfast.’ He pulled out a chair for her. He had capitulated so suddenly that she didn’t quite believe it, and she hesitated. He regarded her steadily for a moment, then shrugged. ‘If Tisha wants a teashop in the conservatory, Kate, she shall have it, but you’re up against a deadline and you don’t know your way about. It will take our combined efforts to make it work.’

‘I wouldn’t have thought you have much time to spare for such minor details.’

‘In this case, I shall have to make the time. As soon as we’ve had breakfast we’ll look at the conservatory and work out exactly what has to be done.’

They spent an hour in the conservatory and the time flew by as Jay listened intently to her ideas, his lateral manner of thinking offering solutions that might never have occurred to her.

‘What are you going to do now?’ he asked, as they made their way back to the kitchen in search of coffee.

‘Write a shopping list and then let my fingers do the walking.’

‘Don’t you think you should consider a little market research?’

‘Market research?’

‘I normally employ a company to do it for me, but in this case I’m sure we could manage it between us.’

‘And what will it entail?’

‘A look at the opposition. There are a couple of tearooms in Oulton Market. I have to go out but I’ll pick you up here at about a quarter to four.’

‘But…’ He had already moved on. She hurried after him. ‘Why don’t you take your aunt?’

‘My aunt employed you to advise her and, since you are being paid handsomely for your expertise, I intend to take full advantage of your knowledge. Now if you’ll excuse me I have some phone calls to make. I won’t be in for lunch.’ He didn’t wait for her reply and she was left standing open-mouthed in the hall.

Catching sight of herself in a mirror, she shut her mouth quickly. ‘Watch it, Kate,’ she warned her reflection, and pulled a face at herself.

But in the event it hadn’t been quite as bad as she had expected. Jay Warwick had a first-class business brain. His meteoric success in the cut-throat world of television was testament to that. And having made his decision to let her stay—and she was in no doubt that if he had wanted her to go he would have found a way to get rid of her—he had obviously decided to establish a reasonable working relationship. In the interests of keeping Tisha happy. She took herself off to the pantry to make an inventory of baking tins. It was a soothing, monotonous job, requiring total concentration.

‘You’re very quiet, Miss Thornley.’ Jay Warwick changed gear as the road straightened and glanced across at her.

‘I didn’t realise I was expected to provide witty conversation as well as cook.’

‘Only if you feel up to it.’ He approached a tricky stretch of road and gave it his full attention and so missed the infuriated glance she threw at him. The road narrowed as it approached the small town of Oulton Market and Jay was forced to wait for a slow-moving tractor before he could park in the market square. Before she could release her seatbelt he was round the car and opening the door for her.

‘Now,’ he said, briskly, ‘We have the Copper Kettle and Martha’s Kitchen to choose from.’ He indicated two tearooms that gleamed at one another across the square. ‘Or should we try both?’

‘Oh, in the interests of market research I’m sure we should. Although it might look a little odd.’

‘And since presumably we’ll have to eat something, it could also prove rather fattening.’

She allowed her eyes to drift down his lean figure. ‘I don’t think so. Unless you’re trying to tell me that you run five miles a day and play squash three times a week?’

‘I get the feeling you would relish the idea of my suffering, Kate. But you’re quite right, I’m naturally skinny.’

‘Fishing for compliments won’t work with me, Mr Warwick. You already know what a very attractive man you are.’

‘You’re getting careless. That was almost a compliment.’

‘Was it? I can assure you it wasn’t meant to be.’

He was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I begin to see why Tisha was impressed so with you. Which reminds me that she asked me to pick up a prescription for her.’

As they walked across the square to the chemist, Kate became increasingly aware that they were the centre of attention.

‘You’re attracting rather a lot of interest,’ she said, finally.

‘Not me. These people have known me all my life. You’re the one arousing local curiosity. You’re not quite my usual style, you see, so I’m afraid you’ll be the subject of ill-informed speculation over dinner-tables throughout the parish tonight.’ The idea did not appear to amuse him.

‘I imagine you’re referring to your famous weakness for leggy blondes? Surely they don’t get invited to Fullerton Hall? The sleeping arrangements are somewhat restricted. And I would have thought they preferred to stay a little nearer the bright lights.’

‘Would you?’ He pocketed the prescription and turned an expressionless gaze upon her. Then a touch of derision touched his smile. ‘The fortitude of some girls would probably amaze you. They’ll do anything to get on television. Even sleep alone.’ She swallowed hard as he took her arm and headed for Martha’s Kitchen. Apparently satisfied with the impression he had made, he handed her a menu. ‘What can I offer you?’

Kate had not needed to look at the menu, using it only as a shield to recover her composure. ‘A scone, please with fresh cream and raspberry jam.’

‘Is that all?

‘For the purposes of market research, Mr Warwick, it will do well enough.’ The waitress brought their tea. ‘I’ll pour, shall I? I don’t imagine you’ve had much experience with all those willing ladies eager to pander to your every whim.’

He bared his teeth at her as she poured two cups of tea. The waitress returned with their scones and Kate considered the offering.

Jay took the cup she handed to him and raised an enquiring brow as she broke the scone open, sniffed it, then pushed the plate away. ‘Well?’ he asked, slightly startled by this performance.

‘This is a mass-produced scone. It could be purchased in a packet in any supermarket and will last for days.’

‘Isn’t that good?’

Kate propped her elbows on the table and leaned her face on her hands. ‘That is a matter of opinion, Mr Warwick. But it isn’t what Tisha has in mind, and if this is the kind of stuff you’re prepared to offer your customers you certainly don’t need me.’

Jay Warwick regarded her over the edge of his teacup. ‘I thought we’d already established that.’

Kate stiffened. ‘You don’t give up, do you?’ she said, furious with herself for being lulled into a false sense of security. If she was the one to crack, his aunt could hardly blame him.

He produced a note and, dropping it on the table, rose to his feet. ‘How long do you think you will be able to stand it?’

‘As long as you can dish it out,’ she retorted.

His smile was grudging. ‘Have you seen enough? Or should we check up on the Copper Kettle?’

‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mr Warwick. At Fullerton Hall, as I’m sure you already know since you seem to be quite bright, you’ll have a captive audience. And this place, at least, offers no incentive to escape.’

‘That was nearly another compliment,’ he said, a little brusquely, opening the car door for her. ‘Aren’t you afraid it will go to my head?’

Kate glanced up at him as she tucked her seatbelt into place. ‘I’m sure an ego as large as yours can handle it.’

His eyes darkened and she saw with a sudden shock that she had made him angry. ‘Damn you,’ he said, and shut the door with rather more force than was necessary and turned away.

‘Jay!’

He narrowed his eyes against the slanting sun and cursed softly under his breath. ‘Hello, Mike.’

‘I didn’t realise you were home.’ A man, a little above average in height and with soft brown hair, hurried across the square towards them. He glanced in the car at Kate and then, pointedly, at Jay.

Jay performed perfunctory introductions. ‘Kate Thornley, Mike Howard.’

Mike offered Kate his hand through the window. ‘Hello, Kate,’ he said warmly, his eyes riveted on her face.

She took the proffered hand and found it held firmly. ‘Hello, Mike,’ she said and swallowed a smile as a warning shadow crossed Jay Warwick’s face.

‘Miss Thornley is organising the catering at the house,’ he said coolly. ‘We’re opening in a couple of weeks.’

‘You’ve decided to go ahead, then?’ Admiration lit the other man’s eyes as he regarded Kate. ‘Quite an undertaking. When’s the big day? I shall certainly make an effort to be there.’ He had addressed himself to Kate, but it was Jay who answered.

‘It will be advertised.’ He made an impatient move and Mike Howard reluctantly surrendered Kate’s hand.

‘I’d better let you get on, then. I’m sure you’ve a lot to do. I’ll see you again soon, Kate.’

She smiled rather more warmly than she might normally have done as he waved and walked away across the square.

‘He’s the estate agent for the National Trust in this area,’ Jay told her, as he climbed into the driving seat. ‘In case you wanted to make a note.’ There was something about the way he said it that made her look up.

‘I might,’ she said.

CHAPTER THREE

IT was a breathless, angry drive back to the hall and it seemed only minutes before he slid to a halt alongside her van, still parked where she had left it when she arrived the evening before.

Kate moved to open the car door but Jay’s hand detained her. For a moment she stared at his long fingers gripping her wrist with quite unnecessary force, then, suddenly furious with him, she flung up her arm, jerking free of his hold, and looked up. About to make a cutting remark, she was stopped in her tracks by the intensity of eyes gleaming with the hardness of agate.

‘Behave yourself, Miss Thornley,’ he advised her, in deadly earnest. ‘This is a small community and I won’t have Tisha embarrassed.’

‘With you as a relation I should think that must be her permanent state of mind. Or are you so insensitive you don’t even realise your public remarks about women might be considered offensive?’ she came back at him, but if she thought he would be in the least disconcerted he immediately disillusioned her.

‘The truth is often difficult to take,’ he replied, and she was the one momentarily shaken by the utter conviction with which he spoke.

Whatever malicious quirk of fate had managed to twist her life in twelve short hours from one of comparative contentment to one of total disarray she had no way of knowing. But she was stuck with it. And so was Jay Warwick, and he needn’t think she was going to lie down and let him walk all over her just because he had leapt to the wrong conclusion about her morals. It had been very easy to manage without the dubious comfort of a man in her life since breaking her engagement to David, but Jay Warwick had no right to dictate what she did with her private life. ‘What I do when I’m not working is none of your business, Mr Warwick,’ she told him. ‘Just leave me to get on with what I’m paid for.’

‘So long as that’s all you get paid for,’ he said harshly.

‘How dare you?’ Kate felt the colour flooding upwards from her neck. ‘You are quite the most insufferable man it has ever been my misfortune to meet!’

His eyes sparked with gold lights. ‘Is that so?’ He leaned towards her. ‘Well, you’re going to have to learn to suffer, Miss Kate Thornley,’ he said, slowly and carefully. ‘I advised you to leave this morning. Perhaps you should have taken my advice while it was still possible. It’s too late now.’

‘Is it? Because you have to keep your aunt sweet in case she doesn’t leave you all this?’

‘Leave me…?’ His laugh was short and unpleasant. ‘Dream on, sweetheart. I choose to keep Tisha sweet, as you so charmingly put it, because she gave up her own home to look after me when my mother jettisoned her responsibilities. Fullerton Hall, Kate, belongs to me.’

Kate felt the colour drain from her face as she absorbed the implication of his words. Trying desperately to keep her poise, she said, ‘Then…I work for you?’

His tiger’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the effect of this revelation. ‘You work for me,’ he confirmed. ‘And I’ll make it my business to remind you of that fact if you step out of line.’

‘It would make life a whole lot easier if you would just stop…’ Kate faltered.

‘Stop what?’

Tearing her up with his eyes. Making her aware of her body as no one had for years. The air between them seemed to vibrate with sexual tension. With a jolt, Kate quite suddenly knew exactly why Jason Warwick was so angry with her. She turned and fumbled desperately with the unfamiliar door-catch, urgently needing to get away from him. He was around the car in a moment to open the door for her, but he barred her escape, staring at her with a fierceness that chilled her.

‘Please. Let me go.’ His eyes narrowed at the sudden pleading in her voice. But he immediately stood back, releasing her, and she was out of the car before he could change his mind. But he hadn’t quite finished with her.

‘Since you are staying, Kate, perhaps you would be kind enough to put that heap—’ and he indicated her van ‘—somewhere out of sight. There’s plenty of room in the coach-house.’

Her hands shook as she searched for the keys in her bag. Eventually she found them and after considerable coaxing under his impassive gaze, the van finally relented and burst into noisy life. Her foot unsteady on the clutch, she hiccuped the vehicle rather jumpily into the shelter of the coach-house. She sat for a while within the safety of its hard-used frame, wishing it were possible just to drive away as far and as fast as she could and never look back. But she had committed herself.

And she had to be practical. She always had to be practical. She had nowhere to run to. She climbed from the van, eschewing the false security it seemed to offer. She had supplies to order, staff to find, far too much to do to worry about Jay Warwick. Yet as she worked in the little office in what had once been a butler’s pantry, she was edgily aware of his presence in the house, jumpily certain that he would appear at her shoulder at any moment. It might almost have been a relief if he had, she decided in the end.

Nancy had laid three places in the small dining-room close to the kitchen that was used for all but the grandest occasions. Kate had queried it with the girl.

‘It’s Lady Maynard’s orders, Miss Kate,’ Nancy replied, and Kate had had to be content with that. But as the girl settled the tureen of soup on the table she couldn’t help thinking that eating with her young trainee at the kitchen table would be altogether preferable. Any pleasure in Fullerton Hall seemed to have evaporated in the heat of Jay Warwick’s presence. She looked up as the door opened and the man in question entered the room.

Lady Maynard settled herself at the table and shook out her napkin, asking how she had spent her day, while Jay opened a bottle of wine.

‘Kate? Can I tempt you?’

‘Thank you, Mr Warwick,’ she said, and he filled her glass.

‘No need for such formality, Kate,’ Tisha Maynard, protested. ‘Tell her to call you Jay, darling. Everyone else does.’

He regarded her steadily as she ladled out hot soup. ‘Kate can call me by whatever name she chooses.’ A glint in his eyes suggested that he didn’t believe her choice was likely to be anything as complimentary as his given name.

Kate ladled piping hot soup into his dish, fervently wishing it were his lap. ‘Jay will be just fine,’ she said, congratulating herself on her restraint.

Lady Maynard kept the conversation going, eager to hear how things were going, and Kate launched into an outline of the ideas that had already formed in her mind. Other than the occasional response to his aunt’s eager prompting, he added little to the discussion, but she was conscious of him listening, watching her, every moment.

Afterwards she declined an invitation to join Tisha in the drawing-room for coffee, retiring instead to her office to continue the detailed planning, now that the broad strokes were in place. She was reading through a series of lists, double checking, when she suddenly became conscious of being watched. She looked up to find Jay standing in the doorway and regarding her with something approaching amusement.

‘Do you normally become so engrossed in what you’re doing?’ he asked.

She flushed, only too aware of her habit of muttering out loud when she was planning anything. ‘How long have you been standing there?’ she demanded.

‘Quite long enough.’ His unexpected laughter was disconcerting. It made him seem too human. ‘I was rather hoping you would be making some coffee.’

Kate glanced at her watch, a very large one with cartoon characters on the face, bought for her birthday by Sam. ‘It’s rather late for coffee.’

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