The Unexpected Mistress
‘I don’t see the—’
‘Well, that’s how it is for me!’ she cried shakily. ‘No one will speak of my mother and all trace of her was removed the day she left.’ Her voice broke and she took a moment to steady herself. ‘I wouldn’t know anything at all about her if it wasn’t for Mr Walker—’
‘Who?’ he exclaimed sharply.
‘He’s someone in the village. A lonely old man with a vile temper but he can’t walk far so I do his weekly shopping. He gives me a list and money for what he needs. I lug his shopping back, he complains about half of it and we both feel better.’
Her eyes went dreamy for a moment. Out of the blue, Mr Walker had once said that her mother was lovely. In his opinion, he’d said, Diana had been wasted on boring George Morris.
‘What did he say about her?’ Cassian asked warily.
She was surprised he was interested, but she smiled, remembering. ‘That she was passionate about life.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Yes. He said she was kind and very beautiful.’ Laura sighed. ‘Since I’m nothing like that, I think he was probably winding me up. When I asked him for more information he refused to say anything else.’
‘I see,’ he clipped, dark brows meeting hard together.
‘The point is that this house means more to me than just bricks and mortar and general sentimentality.’ Desperate now, she felt herself leaning forwards, punching out her words. ‘Thrushton Hall is all I have of my mother!’ she jerked out miserably.
‘Surely you must know about your mother—!’
‘No! I don’t!’ Wouldn’t he listen to her? Hadn’t he heard? ‘I don’t know what she looked like, how or why she left me, nothing!’
She was aware of Cassian’s stunned expression and took heart. He would see her plight and take pity on her.
‘Cassian, other than the house, I have nothing else to remember her by, not one single item she ever possessed. Everything has vanished. The only actual trace of her is me!’
She steadied her voice, aware that it had been shaking so strongly with emotion that she’d been almost incoherent.
‘I don’t believe this!’ he muttered.
‘It’s true!’ she cried desperately. ‘I’ve had to rely on my imagination! I’ve visualised her in this house, doing everyday things. That is where she must have stood to wash up, to cook,’ she cried, pointing with a fierce jab of her finger. ‘She must have sat at that very table to eat, to drink cups of tea. She would have stood at that window and gazed at the view of the soaring fells, just as I do. I can imagine her here and think of her going about her daily life. If—if I leave Thrushton,’ she stumbled, ‘I would have to leave behind those fragile half-memories of my mother. I’d have nothing at all left of her—and the little that I have is infinitely precious to me!’ she sobbed.
She saw Cassian’s jaw tighten and waited seemingly for an eternity before he answered.
‘You must make enquiries about her,’ he muttered, his tone flat and toneless.
Laura stared at him helplessly. How could she do that?
‘I can’t,’ she retorted miserably.
‘Afraid?’ he probed, his eyes unusually watchful.
‘Yes, if you must know!’ she retorted with a baleful glare.
‘Laura, you need to know—’
‘I can’t,’ she cried helplessly. ‘She’s probably started a new life somewhere and I could ruin it by turning up on her doorstep. I couldn’t do that to her. If it was all right for us to meet, she would have come to see me. I can’t take the initiative, can I?’
He was silent, his face stony. But she knew what he was thinking. That perhaps her mother hadn’t wanted to be reminded of her ‘mistake’.
Closing her mind to such a horrible idea, she lifted her chin in an attempt to appear tough. Though even a fool would have noticed her stupid, feeble trembling.
‘You must learn the truth—’ he began huskily.
‘No!’
She wrung her hands, frustrated that he couldn’t see how scared she was of confronting her mother. Maybe she was flighty. Maybe she’d had a string of lovers. Maybe…
‘Cassian,’ she croaked, voicing her worst fear, ‘I can’t pursue this. I—I just couldn’t face being rejected by her.’
‘I don’t think—’
‘How the devil do you know!’ she yelled. ‘She left me, didn’t she? Though…I suppose she knew that George would have won custody, whatever she did. She’d run away. He’d been looking after me and was a lawyer, after all. Mother must have known she didn’t have a chance. To be honest, I don’t even know if there was a court hearing about me. There might have been—and she might have tried to take me with her. I’ll never know. Nobody would ever talk about her.’ Slowly her head lifted till her troubled eyes met Cassian’s. ‘Mr Walker said she was full of life. Knowing how your mother felt, I understand why anyone with fire and energy would have found it difficult to live here,’ she said with dignity.
Cassian looked uncomfortable. ‘Laura,’ he said in a gravelly voice, ‘this is nothing to do with me. Not one of your arguments is sufficient reason for you to stay. Excuse me.’
He strode into the hall. She heard the sound of men moving about, presumably bringing in his possessions. She buried her head in her hands. She’d failed.
Cassian saw her emerging from the kitchen a few moments later, her eyes pink from crying, silver tear-track streaks glistening on her face. He gritted his teeth and continued to organise the stacking of his few belongings in the spacious hall.
Behind his bent back, he could hear the fast rasp of her breathing and sensed she was close to hysteria. And he felt as if he’d whipped a puppy.
‘All done, guv,’ announced one of the men.
Grateful for the diversion, he gave Len and Charlie his undivided attention. ‘Thanks. Great meeting you,’ he said warmly, shaking the men’s hands in turn.
He slid his wallet from his back pocket and handed over the fee plus a tip, brushing away their astonished refusals of such a large sum of money. What was cash to him? It came easily and went the same way.
Charlie had told him about his new baby and Len was nearing retirement. They could both do with a little extra and he believed passionately in circulating money while he had the earning power.
‘I had a windfall. Might as well share it, eh?’ he explained. Like an obscene advance from a film company.
‘Yeah? You’re a gent,’ said Len in awe.
‘Thanks,’ added Charlie, looking stunned.
‘Have a pint on me.’
Len grinned. ‘Treat the wife to a slap-up meal and a holiday, more like!’
‘Buy a baby buggy!’ enthused Charlie.
He saw them out, found them shaking his hand again and accepted an invitation to visit Charlie’s baby and to have tea and cakes with Len and his wife. After much scribbling of addresses, he returned to the tense and angry Laura.
‘What are you trying to do by gossiping out there—drive me to screaming pitch?!’ she demanded furiously, her hands on shapely hips.
He stole a moment to admire them. ‘Being friendly. Would you prefer I dismissed them with a curt nod and a growl?’ he enquired.
She flushed. ‘No…oh, you’re impossible!’
He felt pleased. Her eyes were sparkling, a hot flush brightening her cheeks. If only he could release her emotions…
He bit back an impulse to invite her to stay so he could do just that, and followed up her remark instead.
‘I just live by a different code from you. Now…will I push you into suicide mode if I just check I’ve got all my possessions here?’
She blinked her huge eyes, dark lashes fluttering as she eyed the stack of boxes, his luggage, and three bags of shopping.
‘Do you mean…that this is all you own in the whole world?’
‘It’s all I need. Books, computer stuff and a few mementoes. Plus a few changes of clothes and some food stores.’
‘I don’t understand you,’ she muttered.
‘Not many people do. Now, this is what I’ve decided,’ he said brusquely, suddenly needing to get away from the censure of her accusing eyes. ‘I’d booked a room in a hotel in Grassington because I didn’t know what state the house would be in. I’ll go there now and leave you to start looking for temporary accommodation. Someone will take you in for a few days till you can find somewhere permanent. I’ll be back in the morning. To take possession.’
He turned on his heel. Flinched at her horrified intake of breath as it rasped through emotion-choked airways.
‘Cassian!’ she pleaded in desperation.
But he’d opened the door, was striding up the path and ignoring the sound of her weeping. It would be good for her, he kept telling himself, wrenching at the door handle of his car.
She needed to find out the truth about her mother. But first she’d have to stand up for herself, to gain some strength of will—and being forced to move would make her take her life in her hands at last.
He crunched the gears. And accelerated away, angry with her for making him feel such a swine.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN he turned up the next morning she was beating the hell out of a lump of dough and he couldn’t help smiling because her small fists were clearly using it as a substitute for his head.
Her glare would have put off a seasoned terrorist but, knowing how normally reclusive she was, he could only be pleased. This was precisely the reaction he’d hoped for.
‘Any progress?’ he asked, coming straight to the point.
‘No.’ She jammed her teeth together and kneaded the bread with a fascinating ferocity. ‘If you must know, I didn’t try! And if you’re looking for coffee,’ she said, as he opened and shut cupboards at random, ‘you’re out of luck. There isn’t any.’
He went to find some in the supplies he’d brought, came back and put on the kettle. The bread dough looked so elastic she could have used it for bungy jumping.
‘You did discuss leaving with your son, didn’t you?’ he enquired.
Laura slammed the dough into a bowl and covered it with a cloth. ‘You didn’t give me a chance to tell you,’ she said grimly, pushing the bowl into the warming oven to prove and slamming the heavy iron door with some force. ‘Adam’s been with a friend. I won’t see him till this afternoon after school. Besides…’ Her face crumpled and he realised that she looked very tired and pale as if she’d been up most of the night. ‘I can’t tell him!’ she confessed helplessly.
‘You can. You’re stronger than you think—’ he began.
‘But he’s not!’
Quite frantic now, she began to fling fresh ingredients into a mixing bowl and he began to think that the resulting cake would weigh a ton.
‘In what way isn’t he strong?’ he asked quietly.
‘Every way,’ she muttered, measuring out flour carelessly. ‘Cassian, you know what it’s like to be uprooted from somewhere familiar. You loved the narrow boat where you lived with your mother before you came here after her marriage, and you loathed Thrushton—’
‘Not the house itself, or the countryside,’ he corrected, wondering what she’d say if he brushed away the dusting of flour on her nose and cheeks. It made her look cute and appealing and he didn’t want that. It was very distracting. ‘Just the atmosphere. The stifling rules,’ he said, miraculously keeping track of the conversation.
‘Well, moving is traumatic, especially when you’re a child. Can’t you put yourself in Adam’s place and see how awful it would be for him to leave the place of his birth?’ she implored, pushing away her hair with the back of her hand. ‘Making friends is hard for him. He’d find it a nightmare settling into another school.’
‘Life’s tough. Children need to be challenged,’ he said softly. He passed her a coffee.
‘Challenged?!’ She flung in the flour haphazardly and began to fold it into the cake mixture as if declaring war on it. ‘He’s sensitive. It would destroy him!’ she cried, her face aflame with desperation.
‘Here. That’ll turn into a rugby ball if you’re not careful. Let me.’
He took the bowl from her shaking hands, combined the flour and the abused mixture with a metal spoon then scooped it all into a cake tin. Gently he slid the tin into the baking oven and checked the clock.
She stood in helpless misery, her hands constantly twisting together.
‘Thanks,’ she mumbled.
‘You say your son is sensitive,’ he mused. ‘Is he happy where he is at school now?’
She frowned. ‘N-no—’
‘Well, then!’
‘But another one could be worse—!’
‘Or better.’
‘I doubt it. He’d be such a bag of nerves that he’d turn up on his first day with “victim” written all over his face,’ she wailed. Her eyes were haunted. ‘You can’t do this to my child! I love him! He’s everything I have!’
His guts twisted and he had to wait before he could speak.
‘And you? How will you feel, living elsewhere?’
His voice had suddenly softened, caressing her gently. She drew in a sharp breath and shuddered with horror.
‘I can’t bear to think of going,’ she mumbled pitifully. ‘I love every inch of this house. I know it, and the garden, the village, the hills and the dales, as well as I know the back of my hand. There’s no lovelier place on God’s earth. My heart is here. Tear me away,’ she said, her voice shaking with passion, ‘and you rip out a part of me!’
‘I’m sorry that you will both find it hard,’ he said curtly. ‘But…there it is. That’s life. One door closes, another one opens.’
Laura gasped at his callousness. It was as she feared. He was determined on his course of action. She turned away as tears rushed up, choking her. Her hands gripped the back of a chair for support as she imagined Adam facing a new playground, new teachers, new, more intimidating bullies…
‘All right, Cassian!’ She whirled back in a fury. ‘You open and close all the doors you want—I’m staying put!’
He smiled faintly and his slow and thorough gaze swept her from head to toe.
‘Flour on your face,’ he murmured.
Before she knew it, his fingers were lightly travelling over her skin while she gazed into his lazily smiling eyes, eyes so dark and liquid that she felt she was melting into a warm Mediterranean sea.
By accident, his caressing fingers touched her mouth. And instantly something seared through her like a heated lance, tightening every nerve she possessed and sending an electric charge into her system.
She struggled to focus, to forget the terrible effect he was having on her. He was throwing her out. Going gooey-eyed wouldn’t help her at all. Rot him—was he doing this deliberately? Her eyes blazed with anger.
‘If you want me to go, you’ll have to get the removal men to carry me out!’ she flung wildly.
‘No need. I’d carry you out myself. I don’t think it would be beyond my capabilities,’ he mused.
In a split second she saw herself in his arms, helpless, at his mercy…‘Touch me and you’ll regret it!’ she spat, thoroughly uncomfortable with her treacherous feelings.
‘Yes,’ he agreed slowly, apparently fascinated by her parted lips and her accelerated breathing. ‘I think I might.’ Equally slowly, a dazzling grin spread across his face. It was at once wicked and beguiling and made Laura’s stomach contract. ‘But,’ he drawled, ‘that wouldn’t stop me from doing so.’
She blinked in confusion. There were undercurrents here she didn’t understand. Somehow she broke the spell that had kept her eyes locked to his and she looked around desperately for a diversion.
‘I’d fight you!’ she muttered.
‘Mmm. Then I’d have to hold you very, very tightly, wouldn’t I?’ he purred.
Her throat dried. Almost without realising, she began to tidy the dresser, despite the fact she was so agitated that she kept knocking things over.
Cassian came up behind her. Although there had been no sound, she knew he was near because the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and her spine tingled. Sure enough, his hand reached out, covering hers where it rested on a figurine she’d toppled.
‘You’ll break something,’ he chided, his breath whispering warm and soft over her ear, like a summer breeze in the valley.
‘I don’t give a toss!’ she jerked out stupidly, snatching her hand away.
He caught the flying figure deftly and set it on the dresser. His arm was whipcord strong, his hands big but with surprisingly long, delicate fingers.
‘Laura, surrender. You can’t fight the inevitable.’
She blinked, her huge eyes fixed on his neatly manicured nails. Her body was in turmoil and she didn’t know why. It was her head that ought to be in frantic disarray.
She should be panicking about her eviction. Instead, she was finding herself totally transfixed by his breathing, the cottony smell of his T-shirt, the accompanying warm maleness…
Oh, help me, someone! she groaned inwardly, trying to gather her wits.
‘It can’t be inevitable! Have pity on us!’ she whispered.
‘I am. That’s why I’m chucking you out. And when I do, would you like a fireman’s lift, or something more conventional?’ he murmured in amusement, turning her to face him.
Laura’s knees weren’t functioning properly. She wobbled and he steadied her. He was incredibly close, his smooth, tanned face sympathetic and kind. It didn’t make sense. But his gentle smile broke her resistance. For a terrible, shaming instant, she was horribly tempted to reach up and kiss that inviting mouth so that the tingling of her own lips could be assuaged.
Her eyes widened at her temerity. This was madness! Where were her inhibitions when she needed them? She’d never felt like this. Never had such an overwhelming urge to abandon what was decent and proper and to submit to physical temptations!
It was a relief that he couldn’t know how she felt. The unguarded, unwanted and definitely unhinged response of her own body shocked her. It felt as if she was glowing. Erotic sensations were centred in places where he shouldn’t have reached. It was awful. Like finding she enjoyed sin.
Shame brought high colour to her cheeks. A terrible thought flashed through her mind. Perhaps she was a slut. Perhaps her mother had been… No! Her hand flew to her mouth in horror, dismayed where his casual behaviour had taken her.
‘Laura,’ he murmured, drawing her imperceptibly closer.
‘Let me go! I told you!’ she moaned, wriggling away from the pressure of his hands and emerging hot and flustered because of the skin-tingling way they had slid down her arms. She moved back warily. ‘I don’t want you to touch me!’ she stormed. ‘Let’s get this straight! If you do force me out, I’ll come straight back in!’
His eyes danced with bright amusement. ‘I’d lock the door.’
‘I’d break a window!’ she retorted heatedly.
‘Do you intend your son to use the same point of entry?’
Laura ground her teeth in frustration. Her argument was futile and they both knew it. That didn’t help her temper much.
‘So you turn out a woman and a child, both of whom were born in this house! How do you think you’ll be treated by people in this village?’ she flared.
‘Like a leper. However, it’s not something that would disturb my sleep,’ he replied gravely.
No. It wouldn’t. Cassian never worried about the opinions of others. In her desperation she tried another tack. A last-ditch attempt to find a scrap of compassion in Cassian’s granite heart.
‘Adam is asthmatic. Emotional upsets can bring on an attack. Do you want his health on your conscience?’ she demanded.
‘That would be unpleasant for all of us,’ he admitted. ‘What do you suggest we do?’
Her mouth fell open. ‘What?’
Quite calmly, Cassian perched on the kitchen table, one long leg swinging freely and his steady gaze pinning Laura to the spot.
‘I’ve bought the house. I want to live in it. So do you. That suggests a conflict of interests. How do you propose we deal with the situation?’
She was astonished. She hadn’t expected negotiating tactics.
‘Tell Tony you’ve made a mistake! Get him to buy it back!’ she pleaded.
Cassian shook his head. ‘No use. He’ll have paid off his debtors to save himself from being beaten up again.’
‘Again?! What do you mean?’ She felt the colour drain from her face. ‘Where is he? What’s happened to him?’ she asked in agitation.
‘You’re surprisingly concerned, considering Tony’s indifference to you,’ he observed. ‘If I recall, he was the favoured child. He went from public school to university, whereas you were destined to leave school early. It never bothered him that your lives were unequal. You didn’t figure in his life at all.’
‘There was a crucial difference between Tony and me,’ she pointed out sharply.
‘Sure,’ Cassian scathed. ‘He was a selfish jerk. You were a doormat—’
‘I—I was…!’ OK. She was a doormat. He didn’t have to say so! ‘I was hardly in a position to demand my rights,’ she said stiltedly. ‘I had no blood ties with anyone in this house and you know that. It’s hardly surprising he had all the advantages. I was lucky—’
‘Lucky?’ he barked, leaping to his feet angrily.
‘Yes! They brought me up. I was fed and clothed—’
‘You were crushed,’ he snapped. His eyes blazed down at her, sapping her strength with their ferocity. ‘And you’re grateful because they offered you the basic human needs! Laura, they systematically browbeat you. They punished you for what your mother did to the oh-so-important George Morris, solicitor of this parish. They turned you into an obedient, colourless, cowering mouse, afraid of opening your mouth in case you said the wrong thing—!’
‘Don’t you criticise my family!’ she cried hotly. ‘It’s none of your business how we lived! I don’t care what you think of me…!’
She gulped. Because she did care. It upset her that he saw her as such a wimp. An obedient, colourless, cowering mouse! That was an awful description. Was she that pathetic?
Muddled, she stood there, her chest heaving, wondering why he was so angry and why she kept losing the composure which had always been such an integral part of her.
That was because he’d flung her into her worst nightmare. He was knocking away all her props. Leaving her with nothing. Perhaps she could plead with Tony herself…
‘Tony,’ she reminded him, her voice thin with panic. She sat down, shaking. ‘Just tell me what’s happened to him!’
Cassian felt like shaking her. She still saw justification in the way she’d been treated as a child. And yet cracks were beginning to appear in her armour. Rebellion simmered inside that tense body. She might have been taught to abhor passion but it was there, nevertheless and the thought excited him more than it should.
Inexplicably he’d wanted to press his lips on her pink, pouting mouth and her unavailability had only made the urge stronger. He couldn’t understand his reaction. He’d been celibate for a long time and many women had tried to steer him from his chosen path, using all the tricks in the book and then some.
Tricks he could deflect. This was something else. Whether he liked it or not, Laura was reaching something deeper in him without even knowing what she was doing.
Curbing his rampaging instincts, he set about hurrying her departure before her temptations proved his undoing. Women could be dynamite at the best of times. He dare not get tangled up with someone like Laura. That would be dangerous in the extreme for both of them.
Pity, he found himself musing recklessly. It was such a luscious, kissable mouth… And he hungered for it more than was wise.
Grimly Cassian subdued his lurching passions. He could be hard on himself when necessary. And this was essential.
‘I met Tony in Marrakesh—’ he began at a gallop.
‘Marrakesh!’ she exclaimed, as if it were the planet Mars.
He gave a faint smile. To her, it probably was.
‘Stupidly he’d swindled some thugs and they’d beaten him up. I got out the sticking plasters, let him stay for a while—’
‘You have a house in Marrakesh?’ she asked, wide-eyed.
Cassian perched on the table again. ‘No, I rented rooms. Tony hotbedded with Fee, a stripper, who I—’