Taming Jason

Without warning he gripped her arms…

“Mr. Tenby—”

One hand still held her while the other slid its way up her arm. Then he released her.

“Get out of that damned uniform and wear something civilized,” he ordered.

“Very well, sir.”

“Very well, sir,” he echoed. “Such a cool voice. Such a neutral voice. God, I wish I could see your face this minute.”

“It’s a neutral face, too,” she assured him. “Just treat me as a piece of machinery.”

“There’s machinery in my factory. It smells of axle grease, not wildflowers, as you do.”

Elinor was startled. “I came up because I’m not happy about you having too many people in here just now,” she said quickly. “You still need a lot of rest and I—”

“No, I think you should listen while I make a few things plain,” he interrupted her. “I’ve been ill as long as I can afford to be. So if I want to talk to my manager, I’ll do so. You’ll do what I say, when I say, and that’s final. Now clear out before I start getting angry.”

Lucy Gordon cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men, including Warren Beatty, Richard Chamberlain, Roger Moore, Sir Alec Guinness and Sir John Gielgud. She also camped out with lions in Africa, and had many other unusual experiences which have often provided the background for her books.

She is married to a Venetian, whom she met while on holiday in Venice. They got engaged within two days, and have now been married for twenty-five years. They live in England, in the Midlands, with their two dogs.

One of her books, His Brother’s Child, won the Romance Writers of America RITA Award in 1998, in the Best Traditional Romance category.

Books by Lucy Gordon

HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®

3515—THE DIAMOND DAD

3529—BE MY GIRL!

3548—BEAUTY AND THE BOSS

3561—FARELLI’S WIFE

Taming Jason

Lucy Gordon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

PROLOGUE

SHE wouldn’t cry. No matter how desperately she longed to, she wouldn’t cry and let the hated Jason Tenby know how badly he’d hurt her.

Cindy Smith pressed her hands against her mouth to force back the sobs. Through the blur of tears she could see the countryside flashing past the car. With each mile she was moving further away from the man she loved.

Jason Tenby sat beside her, his eyes fixed on the road. He never once glanced her way and she knew he was indifferent to her broken heart.

There was power in every line of him, from the arrogant set of his head to the way his hands rested on the wheel, controlling it with the lightest of touches.

For him, control was everything. It had maddened him that his younger brother, Simon, had chosen a girl from the wrong side of the tracks to marry into the proud Tenby family. So he’d set himself to smash the engagement. And he’d done so with brutal efficiency.

Although he was still in his late twenties his face had an authority that he’d inherited. Generations of Tenbys had lived at Tenby Manor, ruling the surrounding countryside, either openly or through subtle influence. Jason Tenby was the last of a long line of masters.

The girl sitting beside him was no match for him. She was eighteen, with fine bones and a delicate, vulnerable face. In her short life she’d known poverty but not harshness, and her first brush with implacable force had left her devastated.

‘We’ll reach the station in five minutes,’ Jason said. ‘Plenty of time for you to catch your train.’

‘You’ve no right to do this,’ she said wildly.

‘We’ve been through all that.’ His voice sounded bored and impatient. ‘It wouldn’t have worked. Take my word for it, Simon wasn’t the husband for you.’

‘Because he’s a Tenby, and my mother used to scrub floors for you,’ she said accusingly.

‘Look, don’t—’

‘You decided to break us up as soon as Simon introduced me, didn’t you?’

‘More or less, yes. But don’t make a tragedy out of this. You’re eighteen. Your heart will mend fast enough.’

‘It’s so easy for you!’ she cried. ‘You give your orders and everyone else has to fall in line. But I didn’t, did I? I wouldn’t take your money or listen to your hints about how I didn’t fit in—’

‘I was only trying—’

‘So when you couldn’t break me any other way you—you—’ Suddenly her control broke. ‘Oh, God, how could you do it?’ she sobbed. ‘How could you be so cruel?’

‘We’ve arrived,’ he said, halting the car. ‘Don’t make a scene in public. I know what you think of me, and it doesn’t matter.’

‘Nothing matters to you but getting rid of me.’

‘I’ll certainly be happier when I’ve seen you onto that train.’

When the train pulled in he shoved her bag inside, and urged her in after it.

‘Don’t cry, little girl,’ he said in a gentler voice. ‘And try not to hate me. Believe me, this is best.’ He slammed the door.

The guard blew his whistle. Quickly Cindy pulled down the window and leaned out, looking right into his harsh face.

‘But I do hate you,’ she choked. ‘I hate you because you trample over people and don’t care about their feelings. You got rid of me because you thought I wasn’t good enough. Well, I’m going to prove you wrong, and then I’m coming back.’

‘Don’t come back,’ he said harshly. ‘Stay right away from this family.’

The train was beginning to move.

‘Do you hear?’ she called. ‘One day I’ll come back.’

He didn’t try to answer, but stood looking after her until the last moment. She thought she saw a look of surprise on his face.

She’d sworn to return, but only out of pride. How could she ever go back to the place from which she’d been so cruelly ejected?

And yet it happened.

Six years later Nurse Elinor Lucinda Smith returned to Tenby Manor as the last hope of her enemy, Jason Tenby, who was lying blind, crippled and alone.

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS dark in the room, and very quiet. The man in the bed lay in the mute blackness of despair.

Nurse Smith watched him for a moment before saying, ‘Good afternoon, Mr Tenby.’

Silence. He might have been dead.

His eyes were covered, as they had been ever since the accident that had almost killed him. Elinor knew how bad the injuries beneath those bandages were. She looked at his hands lying on the coverlet. Such big, ruthless hands, like the man himself. Jason Tenby had enforced his will on all who crossed his path, but today he was helpless, at the mercy of a woman who called him her enemy.

Elinor Smith pulled herself together. She was a nurse, sworn to protect the sick and vulnerable, and this man was both. It didn’t matter that he’d smashed her love and condemned her to a lonely wilderness. It was her job to care for him.

‘I don’t want any more damned nurses,’ the man said tiredly.

‘I know. They told me at the agency.’

‘The last two ran away.’

‘You mean they stormed out in indignation.’

Jason Tenby gave a grunt. ‘You’ve heard about that too?’

‘The head of the agency told me everything. He said it was fairer to warn me about you.’

‘So you’ve only yourself to blame for ignoring his warning.’

‘That’s right. I’ve only myself to blame.’

‘How long, I wonder, before you storm out?’

‘It’ll take more than you can throw at me.’ She was feeling her way, sensing that a robust approach would work best with this patient. Sympathy would merely drive him crazy. He was already on the edge of endurance, clinging on with frantic fingertips to a crumbling sanity.

She looked around his old-fashioned room, with its big oak bed and heavy oak furniture. The carpet was a deep brown, and russet curtains hung at the tall windows.

It was an intensely masculine room with nothing soft or gentle about it. The man who lived in this wealthy house spent little on his personal needs. A hard man. A comfortless man in a comfortless desert.

‘And your name?’ he asked at last.

‘Nurse Smith.’

‘I meant your first name.’

‘I think Nurse Smith is best for the moment.’

‘The formal approach, huh?’

‘It’ll make it easier for you to yell at me.’

‘I guess it will at that. Tell me what you look like.’

‘I wear a white uniform and a white cap. And black, sensible shoes.’

In the long pause that followed, she could sense him sizing her up.

‘By God, you’re a cool one!’ he said at last.

‘I’m here to help you, Mr Tenby. That’s all that matters. I want to see you up and walking, as you used to.’

His voice had a bitter edge. ‘And you really think that can happen? Have you read the notes?’

‘Yes. There was a fire in your stables. You went in to rescue a horse and the roof fell on you.’

Another grunt. ‘Damned horse wasn’t even there. Someone else had already got it out.’

‘It must have been hard having all this happen for nothing,’ Elinor agreed. ‘You were lucky not to have been seriously burned.’

‘Yes, people keep telling me how lucky I was,’ said the sightless figure on the bed.

‘You were partially protected by the beams that fell on you. Because of them your burns were superficial, and have now healed. So have your ribs. Your back’s injured and your sight has been damaged, but with luck that won’t last.’

‘You’re just giving me the same line they all do. But you don’t believe it either.’

It was true. She was nowhere near convinced that he would see or walk again. But he had to be convinced of it if he were to have a chance.

‘I believe it can happen if we work at it together,’ she said firmly. ‘And that’s what we’re going to do.’

Suddenly his brows drew together and he covered his bandaged eyes with his hand. Elinor could see that something vital inside him had cracked.

‘For God’s sake, go!’ he said in a shaking voice. ‘Just leave me.’

‘Certainly.’ She closed the door firmly so that he could hear that she’d gone.

Mrs Hadwick, the housekeeper, was waiting in the corridor.

‘All your bags have been taken upstairs, miss,’ she said. ‘I’ll show you the way.’

Because she was on edge over her meeting with Jason, Elinor had chosen to visit him first, before even going to her room. Now she followed the housekeeper down the corridor and round the corner. And, with alarm, she realised where she was going.

‘This room—’ she said.

‘It’s the best guest room,’ Mrs Hadwick said, pushing open a door. ‘I’ll send you up some tea.’ She vanished.

The room was big and imposing, with a four poster bed in the centre. There was a dressing table, an ordinary table and chair, and a big, comfortable armchair. There were two tall windows with drapes that swept the floor. Nothing had changed since the last time she’d slept here, six years ago.

Until now she’d managed to control her memories, but in this place they came flooding back.

Simon seemed to be with her, young and handsome, full of love and eagerness, as he’d been the day he first brought her to his home as his future bride, driving with one arm around her shoulders, and one on the wheel of his gleaming new sports car. They’d swept up the long avenue of oaks until suddenly the house had come into view, and she’d gasped at its beauty and splendour.

‘Simon, I never dreamed—that can’t be your home?’

‘What’s the matter with it?’

‘I’ve never been in a place like that before. I grew up in one of those shabby little back-to-back places at the town end. My mother was a cleaner in your father’s factory.’

He gave a shout of laughter. ‘No, really? Tell me.’

‘She used to do the early morning shift. One day she took me with her. It was against the rules, but otherwise I’d have had to stay at home in an empty house. We nearly got away with it, but one morning I bumped into your brother.’

‘Jason? You mean you’ve already met? Suppose he remembers you?’

‘I was eight years old. He won’t know me after all these years. You mustn’t tell him. Promise.’

‘I promise.’

‘Cross your heart and hope to die. Oh, dear, I wish now I hadn’t told you.’

‘Darling, that really hurts me. If you can’t trust me, who can you trust?’

‘Oh, I didn’t mean that. Truly I didn’t. Of course I trust you, but don’t you see? I don’t belong here.’

‘You belong with me,’ he said firmly.

How desperately she loved him. It seemed as if her slender form must shatter with the force of her love.

As they neared the house she saw a tall man standing on the steps. He’d been a teenager when she’d glimpsed him in the factory, but she had no trouble recognising him again as Jason Tenby.

He must have been a good six foot two, with broad shoulders and a certain massiveness about his presence that had more to do with his air than his build. His hair was dark brown with a touch of red, and his skin was tanned as though he spent a lot of time outdoors. He wore riding breeches and a tweed jacket and stood at his ease, one foot on the lowest step, his hands thrust into his breeches pocket. He looked for all the world like a patriarch watching the hordes advancing on his domain, sizing up a threat.

‘How do you do, Miss Smith?’ His voice was deep and vibrant. Had she imagined it contained a sneer, as though he was mocking her for her commonplace name?

His very handshake was unnerving. Her delicate hand was swallowed up in his great fist, and she almost gasped from the strength of his grip and the sense of power that came from him.

She remembered every moment of her first evening at Tenby Manor. It was the first time she’d been in a house where people dressed for dinner. At least, she thought, she could live up to her surroundings, for she had an expensive long gown and a delicate sapphire pendant, both of them Simon’s gifts. He was wonderfully handsome in dinner jacket and black tie, although even her adoring eyes could see that he was cast into the shadow by his brother.

Simon was twenty, slim and mercurial, with fair, boyish looks and rapid speech. Jason was twenty-eight with slow, thoughtful speech and an authority beyond his years.

Simon enchanted her. Jason awed her.

There was only a slight brotherly likeness between them. Already Jason’s face was harsh with experience, and there was a firmness about his mouth and chin that revealed his impatience with fools, or with anyone who disagreed with him. Yet when in repose his mouth had an unexpected curve, suggesting humour, sensuality, even charm. She grew nervous whenever he looked at her because his dark eyes seemed to swallow light, and it was impossible to read his thoughts in them.

The walls of the grand dining room were lined with portraits of Tenby ancestors, and under their censorious eyes she was sure she would use the wrong knife and fork, or knock over one of the lead-crystal glasses. But it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. Jason talked to her cordially enough, and showed no sign of recognising her from years ago. Afterwards he showed her around the grand house, and they sat talking in the library.

‘So, how did you meet my brother?’ he asked, handing her a sherry.

‘Hasn’t Simon told you?’

‘I’d like to hear your version. He has a tendency to—shall we say—embellish things?’

She nodded. ‘He does have a wonderful imagination,’ she agreed eagerly. To his dour brother Simon’s tendency to get carried away might be maddening, but after her dull life it was a glorious plus.

‘Wonderful,’ Jason echoed. Then, unexpectedly, he grinned. She couldn’t help herself smiling back, and for a moment a flash of understanding passed between them.

‘I was working in a shoe shop,’ she said with a touch of defiance. ‘And Simon came in to buy some shoes.’

He’d stayed two hours and left with five pairs— ‘because I couldn’t tear myself away from your sweet face’, he’d said over dinner that night.

‘Have you done any other kind of work?’ Jason asked.

‘I was going to train as a nurse, but my mother became ill and I stayed at home to look after her until she died.’

‘And you didn’t start your training then?’

‘Well—then I met Simon,’ she said, and nothing could have stopped the gentle smile that crept over her face.

She heard a sound like a sharp intake of breath and looked up quickly to find Jason staring at her, hard-eyed.

‘What does your father do?’ he demanded abruptly.

‘He’s been dead for ten years.’

Joe Smith had fallen into a ditch while weaving his drunken way home from the pub, gone to sleep in a foot of water and never woken again. She could imagine what this stern man would make of such a story.

She noticed Jason frowning as she spoke, and suddenly he leaned towards her and said, ‘You really are Brenda Smith’s daughter. I couldn’t believe it at first—’

So he’d recognised her after all, she thought in despair.

‘Yes, I—that is—’

‘And we met that day in the factory. Well, well! A little more sherry?’

While she was sipping he suddenly demanded, ‘What made you choose that dress?’

Taken off guard, she did what came naturally to her, and replied with complete honesty. ‘Simon chose it.’

‘So I would have supposed,’ he replied dryly. ‘Paid for it too, I dare say.’

‘I didn’t ask him to—’

‘Don’t say a word. I know my brother. That thing is much too old and sophisticated for you.’

‘I—I thought it would be suitable,’ she stammered.

‘You mean you thought you should dress up and pretend to be something you’re not. Damned idiotic idea! Who do you think you’re fooling?’

Her cheeks flamed. He saw it and added more kindly, ‘Don’t take it to heart. I’m a plain man—a rough man, some would say—and I talk plainly. And, in plain words, you and Simon are a mistake.’

‘You can’t tell that in one evening.’

‘I could tell it in one minute.’

To her relief Simon came looking for them then. Jason said no more, but let Simon take her away for a stroll in the garden.

‘He knows me,’ she said, distraught. ‘He recognised me all the time. It’s not funny—’ Simon had broken into a chuckle.

‘I’m sorry, darling,’ he choked. ‘What did he actually say?’

‘He said, “You really are Brenda Smith’s daughter. I couldn’t believe it at first—”. Oh, Simon, don’t you see what that means? He saw it during dinner and he kept it to himself until he was ready.’

‘Did he tell you what made him realise?’ Simon asked in a curious voice.

‘No. Oh, what does that matter? He was laughing at me all that time.’

‘He enjoys being one up on people,’ Simon agreed.

‘What else did he say?’

‘Isn’t that enough? He despises me because I haven’t got any “background.”’

His laugh came echoing down the years to her now. How young and delightful he’d been! How generous and full of charm! ‘Who cares about background?’

Her name was Elinor Lucinda, but Simon called her Cindy. Cindy for Lucinda, but also—

‘Cindy for Cinderella,’ he teased. ‘My little Cinderella.’

Her poverty enchanted him. ‘I love giving you things,’ he said that first night as they walked under the trees. ‘I’m going to cover you with diamonds.’

‘But I don’t want diamonds. Just your love, my darling. Nothing but your love.’

‘You can have that as well, all tied up with a big shiny bow, and anything else you ask for.’

Lost in delight, she hardly realised that they’d returned to the house and were crossing the hall. Only then did she see Jason, standing on the stairs, close enough to hear Simon’s extravagant promises. But her own voice was softer, and Jason had probably missed her gentle protest.

She had a brief glimpse of his face, dark and angry, before he turned away.

Jason never mentioned what he’d overheard, but in a dozen ways he made it clear that Simon was dependent on him for money. Simon confirmed it.

‘I inherit plenty under my father’s will, but Jason’s got the purse-strings until I’m twenty-five,’ he said with a shrug. ‘So what? How can he stop me using my credit cards? And when the money is spent, how can he refuse to pay up? It’s my money, after all. Don’t worry about it.’

That was his philosophy of life. Don’t worry about it. And somehow things always worked out Simon’s way. Living under his spell, as she did, it was easy to believe they always would.

She guessed it was no accident that their bedrooms were at opposite ends of the great house. In fact Jason’s precautions were needless. The young girl hadn’t yet offered herself totally to the man she adored, and she loved Simon more for respecting her wishes. The day would come soon when they would be one in flesh as they were one in heart and soul. But just for now she was enjoying this sweet time of anticipation.

So Jason’s resolve to keep his brother out of her bed was an insult. He couldn’t have said more clearly that he saw her as a schemer. And at last she heard those words from his own lips. She came across the brothers by accident, and couldn’t help overhearing Jason’s voice.

‘You young fool. You’re not going anywhere near her room if I have to bar the way myself…The last thing I want is that girl getting pregnant…’

She fled before they could discover her. She would have liked to flee Tenby Manor altogether, but there was a strong inner core beneath her gentle exterior, and it made her determined to stay and fight for her love. Yes, even to fight Jason Tenby himself. And she knew he was a formidable foe.

‘Why don’t you chuck Simon back into the sea?’ Jason asked once. ‘You’ll find other fish that suit you better.’

‘I’ll never love anyone but Simon,’ she said fervently.

‘Then you’re a fool.’

‘And Simon? Is he a fool?’ she asked, more bravely than she felt.

‘Yes, because he believes in the same kind of love that you do. I’ve seen his infatuations before. He enjoys the romantic stage, putting the girl on a pedestal, buying her gifts, asking for nothing back.’

He said the last words with a sneer that stung her into retorting, ‘I can’t imagine you asking for nothing back.’

‘Then you’re a good judge of character,’ he said with a raffish grin. ‘The romantic bit is all very nice, but I’m the one who has to pick up the pieces, sort out the broken hearts, the whole boring thing.’

‘But you’ve got it all wrong,’ she said passionately. ‘I understand why you’re concerned for your brother, but I won’t break his heart—’

‘Only his bank account, eh?’

‘That’s a wicked thing to say—’

‘Look, I’ve seen some of the presents he’s given you—all bought with money he doesn’t have.’

‘I don’t ask him to—’

‘Sure you don’t. You don’t need to. He enjoys splashing out. Well, I can be generous too—for a purpose.’ He named a sum of money.

‘Are you trying to buy me off?’ she demanded, outraged.

He shrugged. ‘Put it how you like. It’s a good bargain.’

‘And my-self respect? How would I buy that back?’

‘That’s a good line. I’ll up the offer a little, but not much.’

‘You could double it and I still wouldn’t be interested.’

‘No, don’t overplay your hand. I won’t double it.’