The Deserving Mistress

That initial letter had come from America, which was why they had all assumed that Jude Marshall was American, too—and why, when he’d spoken in that precise English accent on his arrival a short time ago, May had made absolutely no connection between her unexpected visitor and the man whose very name the three sisters had all come to loathe the last two months.

Jude Marshall was a surprise in more ways than one, May acknowledged frowningly. She hadn’t expected him to be so arrogantly good-looking, for one thing, or have him moving capably about her kitchen making her a much-needed mug of coffee, for that matter!

He was also, she acknowledged less readily, completely right about the strain of running the farm on her own the last few days since her sister March had gone off to London to meet Will’s parents, and her younger sister January had telephoned from the Caribbean to say that she and Max had decided to stay on for an extra week. January had sounded so happy and carefree that May hadn’t liked to tell her youngest sister that, with March away, too, she was managing here on her own, brightly assuring January that everything was just fine here, and wishing her and Max a wonderful time.

Something she certainly wasn’t having herself!

This last few days on her own had been a learning experience, was indicative of how it would be once March and January were married and living away from the farm. Not good, May knew.

But that was still no reason to give in to Jude Marshall’s pressure to sell the farm to him, she decided with a determined straightening of her spine. Having now met the man, and seeing firsthand just how arrogantly assured he was, May was even more determined not to do that!

Although she didn’t feel quite so confident later that evening when she staggered back into the farmhouse, too tired to even bother to cook herself an evening meal.

The coffee remaining in the pot from this morning was stewed and only lukewarm, but it was better than nothing.

No, it wasn’t, she decided after the first mouthful, putting the mug back down on the table with a disgusted grimace.

She was so tired, so utterly exhausted, resting her head down on her folded arms as she sagged tiredly onto the kitchen table. Just a few minutes’ rest and she would be all right again, she told herself. Just a few minutes…

‘Come on, May, it’s time to wake up,’ a gently intruding voice cajoled. ‘May?’ A gentle shaking of her arm accompanied this second intrusion.

She had been having such a nice dream, she frowned resentfully, had been lying on a golden beach, the sun warm and soothing, with a tropical blue sea lapping lightly against the sand at her feet. But the stiffness in her folded arms as she slowly woke to consciousness, aided by the ache in her back, told her only too clearly that it had unfortunately been just a dream!

‘May, if you don’t wake up in a minute, I’m going to assume that this time you really have had a heart attack—and commence emergency mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!’ that intruding voice drawled mockingly.

Jude Marshall’s voice!

She recognised those clipped English tones only too easily this time, raising her head to glare at him resentfully, very aware that she probably looked worse now than she had this morning, still in the same clothes, still as dirty—and, to add to her disarray, she probably had crease marks on her face now from having fallen asleep in such an uncomfortable position!

He grinned down at her unconcernedly. ‘I thought the mere suggestion of my having to carry out mouth-to-mouth resuscitation might revive you!’

She gave an irritated sigh. ‘What do you want, Mr Marshall?’

‘You seem very fond of asking me that.’ He raised mocking brows. ‘A fine way to talk to someone who has brought you dinner,’ he admonished derisively, holding up a plastic carrier bag. ‘Chinese take-away,’ he explained economically. ‘Having seen how tired you were this morning, I didn’t think you were going to be in any fit state to cook yourself a hot meal this evening.’

May frowned up at him, still not quite awake, but aware enough to view his kindness—and the man himself!—with suspicion. The fact that his surmise had obviously been a correct one wasn’t in question—but his response to it certainly was.

‘And why should that bother you, Mr Marshall?’ she prompted warily, her sleepy state fast disappearing now as she frowned up at him suspiciously.

‘Stop dithering, woman, and tell me where the plates are so that I can serve this stuff before it goes cold!’ He put the bag down on the table in front of her.

‘Second cupboard on the right,’ she supplied somewhat dazedly. Plates, he had said. In the plural. Surely this man didn’t intend sitting down to dinner with her?

But as he set out two places on the table along with the two big plates, and then commenced to put out the cartons of Chinese food, it appeared that was exactly what he intended doing!

‘Er—Mr Marshall—’

‘Could we get something clear right now, May?’ He straightened, looking down at her with narrowed eyes.

She stiffened warily, wondering exactly what he was going to say. ‘Yes?’

He nodded abruptly. ‘I’m sure you have your reasons for being deliberately rude to me—I’m sure you think you have,’ he stressed firmly as she would have protested. ‘But I have no intention of sitting down to dinner—a dinner that I actually brought here, remember?—with someone who insists on calling me “Mr Marshall” in that unfriendly tone.’ He raised dark brows pointedly.

May’s cheeks warmed at the accusation. She was being deliberately rude, there was no denying that. But he was being deliberately friendly, which was just as unacceptable!

‘Okay?’ he prompted determinedly.

May looked up at him unblinkingly, wanting to tell him to go away, and to take his dinner with him. But the smell of the food was so tempting, her mouth watering at the mixture of aromas that was wafting up from the array of cartons he had put out in the middle of the table. If she told him to go away, he would probably take all this wonderful food with him!

‘Okay,’ she accepted abruptly. ‘Although—’

‘Okay will do for just now,’ Jude cut in derisively. ‘Eat,’ he added curtly, sitting down at the place opposite her.

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had ordered her about in this way. Probably not since her father had died a year ago, she recognised frowningly. But anyone less like her father—or, indeed, a father-figure—than Jude Marshall, she was less likely to meet!

For one thing she was completely aware of him as the two of them helped themselves to the food, of the slender strength of his ringless hands, the dark hairs that began at his wrist and probably covered his arms and chest, of the way his dark hair fell endearingly across his forehead unless pushed back by an impatient hand, of the piercing intelligence of those silver-grey eyes, of the dark shadow at his jaw that implied he probably had to shave twice a day, but had omitted to spend time on that second shave today.

Because he had chosen to drive out here and bring her dinner instead? Probably, she acknowledged slightly dazedly. In fact, she found it difficult to believe at all that she was sitting here eating a Chinese take-away with Jude Marshall, of all people!

‘This is very good, thank you,’ she told him huskily, the hot, tasty food more welcome than she had even imagined. And it had been supplied by Jude Marshall, a man she considered to be her enemy…

He looked across at her, eyes gleaming silver with amusement. ‘How hard was that to say?’ he mused dryly.

‘Very,’ she confirmed with a rueful grimace. ‘I hope I’m not keeping you from something? Or someone?’ she added frowningly.

‘Nothing that can’t wait.’ He shrugged dismissively.

May gave him a quizzical look. Did that mean there wasn’t someone waiting for him back at his hotel? Or that the person that was waiting for him wasn’t important enough for him to bother rushing back to?

Jude frowned as he saw her looking at him. ‘What did I say now?’ he prompted impatiently.

‘Nothing,’ she dismissed abruptly, deliberately turning her attention back to her food.

Although she was completely aware of the fact that he was still looking at her. If she was honest—and she usually was—she had to admit she had never been so aware of another person in her life before.

Just as she felt sorry for whoever—possibly?—might be waiting for him back at his hotel; it would be awful to be so unimportant to this man that his having dinner with a scruffy female farmer took priority. Even with the buying of this farm as the incentive.

‘I spoke to Max earlier this evening.’

May looked up at him sharply, but his bland expression was completely unenlightening. She moistened her lips before speaking, choosing her words carefully, deliberately infusing a lightness into her tone. ‘Did you tell him the two of us have met—finally?’ she couldn’t resist adding dryly.

Jude sat back, regarding her derisively. ‘Should I have done?’ he drawled.

He was doing it again—answering a question with a question.

Because he knew damn well that she would much rather Max, and consequently January, didn’t know of his presence in the area, or that he had already introduced himself to her—but especially that she was managing alone here on the farm.

January had had a pretty awful time of things at the beginning of the year, had been caught up in the sick workings of a stalker’s mind, May much relieved when her sister had become engaged to Max, even more pleased when he’d suggested taking her away for a few weeks’ holiday to get over the experience.

But she had no doubts that, were January to learn of Jude Marshall’s presence here, of the fact that May was alone on the farm, her sister would insist on coming back on the next available flight!

‘Well?’ she prompted impatiently.

Jude gave a rueful shake of his head as she neatly turned the tables back on him. ‘You’re right—we could go on like this all night, returning a question with a question!’

‘Not all night, no,’ May assured him scathingly. ‘Tonight I intend going to bed early, very early—and alone,’ she added so that there should be no more mistakes concerning that particular subject! ‘In fact—’ She broke off frowningly as a knock sounded on the door, shooting Jude Marshall an accusing look.

‘January would hardly knock to come into her own home,’ he easily read the accusation in that look—and the reason for it.

Which still didn’t tell her whether or not he had mentioned to Max that he had decided to come here himself as he and Will had failed to acquire the Calendar farm for him. But, then, even on this short an acquaintance, May already knew that Jude Marshall was decidedly economical in providing any sort of information about anything.

May stood up as a second knock sounded on the door. ‘We’ll talk on this subject more once I’ve dealt with my visitor,’ she warned before moving hurriedly to the door, intending to make it very clear to this man before he left this evening that January was not to be worried by the situation here.

And ‘situation’ it certainly was rapidly becoming, she decided dazedly as she opened the door to find David Melton standing on her doorstep.

Keen on amateur dramatics, May had joined the local society a couple of years ago, only to be spotted by David Melton, a renowned film director, when he’d come to visit his sister’s family for Christmas and spotted May as she’d performed in the local pantomime.

To her surprise he had offered her a part in the film he was to shoot in the summer, if the screen test he offered proved to be successful. It had. But, for very personal reasons of her own, May had decided to turn down his offer…

Which was why she had no idea what he was doing standing on her doorstep now.

Jude watched May’s face as she obviously recognised her visitor—but obviously wished that she didn’t, her expression a puzzling mixture of surprise and dismay.

He turned his narrowed gaze on the other man; probably aged forty or so, tall and slender, with short blond hair and a boyishly handsome face. Which told him precisely nothing, Jude acknowledged ruefully. The man could just be a salesman or something equally innocuous—although, from May’s reaction to seeing him, somehow Jude doubted it…

‘David,’ he heard May greet huskily.

‘I was in the area—I had to come, May,’ the man returned determinedly.

May shook her head. ‘I haven’t changed my mind,’ she told him firmly.

‘But—’

‘You’ll find someone else,’ she assured him, an uncomfortable glance in Jude’s direction letting the other man know that she wasn’t alone.

David shot Jude an impatient glance of his own before his attention returned determinedly to May. ‘I don’t want anyone else, May,’ he told her forcefully. ‘It has to be you. You’re perfect—’

‘I really don’t want to talk about this just now,’ May cut in firmly, obviously completely conscious of the listening Jude, even if the other man seemed unconcerned by his presence.

Curiouser and curiouser, Jude acknowledged consideringly. Was this David a spurned lover who simply refused to go away? Or something else? Although quite what that ‘something else’ could be Jude had no idea. Which brought him back to the spurned lover theory…Although, in the other man’s shoes, Jude would have been more than a little concerned at another man’s presence here alone with May. Unless the other man considered him to be insignificant in what was going on between him and May? A thought that Jude, who had never thought of himself as in the least ‘insignificant’ in any situation, found intensely irritating.

He stood up, moving to stand at May’s side, deliberately resting his hand on the door behind her. ‘Is there a problem, May?’ he prompted haughtily.

She shot him a frowning glance. ‘Nothing that I can’t handle. Thank you,’ she added belatedly.

Jude turned his attention on the other man, deliberately looking down the long length of his nose, topping the other man by at least three inches. ‘I’m afraid you’ve caught us right in the middle of eating our dinner…’ he said pointedly.

The other man looked displeased at this interruption. ‘I just wanted to have a few words with May—’

‘And, as I’ve just told you, we’re eating our evening meal,’ Jude bit out with hard dismissal, his gaze challenging on the other man now.

May looked up at him frowningly, seeming to sense that the situation was fast moving out of her control, turning back to David smilingly. ‘I appreciate your—continued interest,’ she told him warmly. ‘But, as I told you before, I’m really not interested.’

David shook his head. ‘I’m not giving up.’

May looked completely baffled as to what to do or say next to this man, shaking her head dazedly.

‘I don’t understand what went wrong,’ David continued forcefully. ‘One minute you were fine with everything that we had talked about, the plans we had made, and the next—’

‘How many times does she have to tell you she’s not interested?’ Jude cut in coldly, stepping forward slightly to drape a proprietorial arm about May’s narrow shoulders. Too narrow, he realised frowningly. She really was too thin, too delicate, to live the hard-working life that she so obviously did.

David’s gaze became guarded as he looked at that possessive arm about her shoulders. ‘And you would be…?’ he prompted slowly.

‘I would be a friend of May’s,’ Jude answered harshly.

‘I see,’ the other man murmured, obviously not seeing at all as he turned to look questioningly at May.

‘I would really much rather not talk about this any more, David,’ she told him regretfully. ‘I-it was a nice dream while it lasted,’ she added wistfully. ‘But it really isn’t for me. I’m sorry.’ She grimaced.

Her visitor drew in a ragged breath, hunching his shoulders as he thrust his hands into the pockets of his sheepskin jacket. ‘I’m not giving up,’ he assured her decisively. ‘I’ll be back.’ He nodded firmly. ‘Perhaps we can talk then.’

‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ Jude put in raspingly, his patience wearing very thin where this man was concerned. Couldn’t he see, and just accept, that May wasn’t interested? That she wanted him to leave and not come back to bother her?

Was this how Max and Will had felt, too? he wondered a little dazedly; protective, but at the same time finding their Calendar woman incredibly attractive?

Except that May Calendar was not his woman. Would never be his woman. Not if he had anything to say about it. And he most certainly did.

‘Are you staying with your sister again?’ May was talking to the other man again now. ‘I’ll ring you there some time tomorrow,’ she added quickly as she received confirmation of that fact with David’s nod.

‘I’ll be waiting for your call,’ he assured her huskily before turning his hard blue gaze on Jude. ‘Goodnight,’ he added coldly.

‘Goodbye,’ Jude returned with a challenging lift of his dark brows.

The other man gave a humourless smile of acknowledgement at the obviously male challenge before turning to walk across to his car, a sporty Jaguar, Jude noted with displeasure; obviously this David, whoever he was, was wealthy enough to help May if he wanted to. And, from their conversation, he obviously did.

And yet she seemed uninterested in whatever the other man had to offer, so perhaps—

‘And just what the hell did you think you were doing just now?’ May’s angry challenge was accompanied by the slamming of the door as she turned to face him, her cheeks fiery red with anger, her eyes glittering deeply green.

He raised mocking brows at the unexpected attack. ‘Trying to be helpful?’ he prompted pointedly. ‘The man was obviously bothering you, and so I—’

‘Helpful? Helpful?’ she repeated incredulously, hands clenched at her sides. ‘Can you drive a tractor?’

He blinked frowningly. ‘Unfortunately not.’

‘Milk a cow?’

He grimaced. ‘Definitely not!’

‘Nurse a weak lamb?’

He shrugged. ‘Probably not.’

‘Feed the hens and collect the eggs?’

He drew in an impatient breath, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. ‘Look, May—’

‘No, of course you can’t do any of those things!’ she answered her own questions impatiently. ‘But I can, and I do. And those are the only ways that you could possibly be of any help to me, Mr Marshall,’ she told him scathingly. ‘I really don’t know where you got the impression that I’m some helpless female that needs rescuing—’

‘Don’t you?’ he rasped pointedly.

She had the grace to blush, her exhausted condition earlier having been unmistakable. ‘That was an exceptional circumstance,’ she dismissed firmly. ‘Now, if you wouldn’t mind leaving…?’ She stood pointedly away from the door, her expression challenging.

Jude gazed at her frustratedly. She really was the most—

Were those tears he could see in those incredible green eyes? And if so, were they tears of sheer frustration with all the work she had to do, or were they for some other reason?

‘We haven’t finished our meal,’ he pointed out softly.

She gave a shake of her head. ‘I’m afraid I’ve completely lost my appetite.’

‘May—’

‘Will you just go?’ she cried emotionally, the tears welling against the darkness of her lashes now.

‘No—I won’t just go,’ he answered impatiently. ‘May, I don’t think for one minute that you’re a helpless female.’ How could he, when she had obviously been the female mainstay of this household since she was nothing but a child herself? ‘But you are wrecked, anyone can see that from just looking at you—’

‘Thanks!’ she snapped scathingly.

He sighed heavily. ‘There’s just no reasoning with you, is there?’

‘None at all,’ she bit out coldly.

Jude shook his head. He had never met a woman like May Calendar before. Had never felt like shaking and kissing a woman at the same time before, either—

Kissing…?

Damn it, yes, he wanted to kiss May Calendar! Wanted to sweep her up into his arms and kiss her until she was senseless. Until they were both senseless.

Which was why he most certainly wasn’t going to do it! ‘Fine,’ he rasped harshly, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair before walking determinedly to the door. ‘Any message for Max or your sister if he should happen to telephone again?’ he challenged hardly, already knowing from her reaction earlier to his casual mention of having spoken to Max that she did not want her youngest sister to know she was coping alone here.

She swallowed hard, her cheeks suddenly pale now. ‘No—’ she moistened dry lips ‘—no message. Except—’

‘Yes?’ He paused at the door.

She gave the ghost of a smile. ‘You could tell January that Ginny and the twins are all doing well. The ewe from last night, and her two lambs,’ she explained ruefully at his puzzled frown.

Jude gave an acknowledging inclination of his head, not having particularly enjoyed scoring that point, where Max and January were concerned, over a woman who was so exhausted she could hardly see straight. ‘I would get that early night if I were you, May—before you fall over!’ he rasped.

She gave a shake of her head. ‘I still have things to do.’

He gave an impatient shrug at her stubbornness. ‘Your choice,’ he bit out harshly. ‘But, from the look of things, they will still be there for you to do all over again tomorrow.’

She gave the hint of a smile. ‘My father used to say that.’

Used to. Because, as Jude now knew only too well, having checked up on the Calendar sisters a little more thoroughly after Max had got himself engaged to one of them, neither of the Calendar parents were still alive, the mother having died while the three girls were still very young, the father only a year ago.

Which really made him feel good about trying to buy the farm out from under them!

‘Then you should have listened to him!’ he rasped, no longer sure whether it was May or himself that he was angry with.

One thing he did know, he needed to get this whole thing back into perspective, to concentrate on his objective, which was to buy this land and then leave.

And, to do that, he had to get away from May Calendar.

Besides, April would be waiting for him back at the hotel. Charming, entertaining, thoroughly agreeable April.

May Calendar looked at him unblinkingly. ‘I did listen to him, Mr Marshall, but I don’t have to listen to you—’

‘That’s it!’ His patience, what there was of it, had been blown completely at her determined continuation of the formal ‘Mr Marshall’. Damn it, he had tried to be kind to her—even though she would so obviously have preferred that he wasn’t—to be reasonable; he had even bought her dinner.

With no ulterior motive? a little voice taunted inside his head.

And what if there had been? She could still have been a little more grateful than she had.

May eyed him mockingly now. ‘That’s what, Mr Marshall?’ She smiled tauntingly.

‘This,’ he bit out forcefully—seconds before he swept her up into his arms and kissed that mocking smile right off her lips.

Mistake, Jude, he admitted with an inward groan. Mistake!

She tasted of honey. Her lips were soft and responsive—probably because she was too surprised to do anything else, he acknowledged ruefully, even as he moulded her body against his, the warmth of her breasts crushed against his chest, the dark swathe of her silky hair falling down over his arm as he tilted her head back to deepen the kiss.

Nectar.

Sweet, sweet, nectar.

So intent was he on tasting that nectar that he didn’t at first notice the tiny fists pummelling against his chest, only coming to a full awareness of her resistance as she wrenched her lips away from his to glare up at him.

‘Let go of me,’ she ordered furiously, pushing ineffectually at his chest now. ‘You—you—’

‘Yes?’ he derided challengingly even as his arms dropped back to his sides and he stepped away from her.