Yesterday's Scars
The area just didn’t provide enough work for all of them, or the entertainment for that matter. There was a small country club, with all the usual sporting facilities, and a dance held every Saturday, but certainly nothing like the sophisticated forms of entertainment to be found in the towns. And so the population in this part of Cornwall remained about the same, varying between three and four hundred, and that was the way Rafe liked it.
Rafe! No matter what Hazel started out thinking about it always came back to her arrogant guardian. And he was still that—just. The conditions of her father’s will had left her to Rafe’s guardianship until she was twenty-one, even though the age of consent was eighteen. But in a week’s time she would be twenty-one, and able to be her own boss and not ordered about as if she was still a child.
As she had expected, Trisha was sitting at her desk at the head of the room, marking the exercise books of the day. Hazel crept quietly into the room, hoping to surprise her friend. She hadn’t written telling Trisha of her return; the whole thing had been arranged in such a hurry there hadn’t been the time to do so even if she had wanted to.
‘Hi!’ she cried happily.
Trisha looked up, startled. Her face lit up as she recognised Hazel, throwing down her pen to rush over and hug her. ‘Oh, Hazel!’ She held her at arm’s length, her blue eyes mirroring her excitement. ‘When did you get back?’
‘Just now.’ Hazel’s smile was warm with happiness. ‘Literally. I only took time out to shower and change before coming over to see you.’ And visit the cabin, but she didn’t want to talk about that!
‘I’m flattered,’ her friend grinned. ‘Goodness, I’ve missed you!’
‘And I you. Your letters have been very welcome, though. I was so pleased for you when you passed all your exams. How does it feel to be teaching in the school you yourself went to?’
‘A bit strange at first. But I’m enjoying it,’ Trisha enthused. ‘You know I told you the authorities are trying to close the school down? Well, Rafe’s been really fantastic about it He’s persuaded them to keep it open for at least another year or so.’
‘That is a breakthrough.’
Hazel knew that the authorities were trying to close some of the smaller schools, believing them to be a waste of money. But she also knew that Rafe believed that the children should be kept in the area for as long as possible, and obviously he had managed to persuade the people concerned to his way of thinking, even if it was temporarily. She knew Rafe well enough to know that it would become a permanent thing.
‘Mm,’ Trisha gathered up the marked books, ‘Rafe’s been very helpful.’
‘And Celia?’
Trisha’s face darkened. ‘Celia is—Celia.’ She said the last with a shrug.
‘Sorry,’ Hazel grimaced. ‘That was a bit unfair. You’ll have to excuse me, but I’ve just left her.’
‘I see. It was terrible about Rafe, though, wasn’t it?’ Trisha effectively changed the subject. Celia’s resentment towards her brother’s young ward was public knowledge among the local people, and it was something that Hazel and Trisha had often discussed together, usually when Hazel had run from Savage House in tears after one of her slanging matches with Celia. ‘It’s quite a shock when you first look at him.’
‘Yes,’ Hazel agreed huskily. She wasn’t going to admit that she hadn’t even seen him yet.
Trisha shuddered. ‘I can still remember the first time I saw him when I came back. God, he was a mess, Hazel. His face! At first I thought it had ruined his good looks, but I don’t know, now that the scarring has faded slightly I think it may have added to them. He was always a handsome devil, but now—wow!’
Hazel didn’t see how a scarred face and limp could add to a man’s attraction, but she didn’t argue with Trisha. To do that she would have to admit that she didn’t even know the full extent of Rafe’s injuries, that she hadn’t even known he had been injured until this morning.
She still didn’t know how Celia could have kept such a thing from her. Rafe could have died and she wouldn’t have known until it was too late. She shuddered at the thought. And Rafe had been burnt. She didn’t need to be told how horrific burns could be—or how painful. Rafe’s smooth brown skin, scarred and disfigured … She couldn’t bear it.
‘I would have come home myself if I’d been asked,’ she said coolly. ‘I—I didn’t realise just how seriously ill he was.’
‘Perhaps it’s as well that you didn’t. Mummy says Celia was acting like Lady Bountiful while he was ill in bed, ordering the estate workers about as well as the household staff. Half the people were threatening to down tools by the time Rafe was back at the reins.’
‘Someone should have told him what was going on.’
Trisha began to wipe the blackboard clean. ‘Impossible. To see Rafe you had to go through Celia, and she wouldn’t let you anywhere near him if she knew what you wanted to see him about. They all tried, but were told politely but firmly that the boss wasn’t to be disturbed.’
‘And I thought they’d all deserted me,’ drawled a deep lazy voice from behind them.
Trisha’s face flushed with dismay as she looked guiltily at the man standing a few feet behind Hazel. ‘Rafe!’ she exclaimed.
‘That’s right. I thought I might find you here, Hazel,’ he spoke to her rigid back. ‘Aren’t you going to turn around and say hello?’ His voice hardened.
Hazel had tensed as soon as she heard his voice, his deep drawl unmistakable. Rafe was standing just a few feet behind her, tall, attractive, arrogant Rafe. Yes, he was standing just behind her—and she couldn’t move! Her legs felt frozen to the spot and she just couldn’t move!
How could she face him again, remembering everything that had passed between them? She hadn’t seen him for three years, he would be a stranger to her now, a tall scarred stranger who had taunted and cajoled her for most of her twenty-one years.
But she had to face him, had to show him, as well as herself, that she wasn’t afraid of him. He would be a complete stranger to her now, but she had never understood him that well. He was too deep for her unsophisticated mind, too sensual for her unawakened innocence to take in. But three years had passed since their last meeting, three long years during which she had grown up.
Yes, she had to face him now, if only to prove to herself that she could do it.
CHAPTER TWO
SHE stiffened her shoulders, turning slowly, her gaze going straight to that scarred face still strangely dominated by taunting blue eyes. A deep scar ran from temple to jawbone on the left side of that dark compelling face, a scar dangerously close to the eye, although that appeared uninjured. Besides, James hadn’t mentioned an eye injury. The scar continued down the firm column of Rafe’s throat until it was obscured by the navy sweat-shirt he wore.
The scar gave him a rakish appearance. And while she realised it must have been very painful at the time, Hazel agreed with. Trisha, it did add to his attraction. He looked more devilish than ever. And women have always been attracted by that which offers a challenge.
He was leaner than she remembered, his thick black hair worn longer, well over his collar, although it suited his dark arrogance. Those deep blue eyes still mocked and scorned, the cynical twist to those firm lips was more pronounced.
He stood facing her, legs apart, arms folded in front of his muscular chest, challenge in every muscle and sinew of his powerful body. Hazel felt herself stiffen under that challenging gaze. So it was to be a fight as before! Well, she wasn’t quite the inexperienced teenager she had been before her stay in America.
‘Hello, Rafe,’ she said obediently, time enough to show him her newly acquired confidence at a later date.
His mouth twisted into the semblance of a smile, the scarring even more pronounced. ‘Not a very affectionate greeting after three years’ absence. Can’t you do better than that, Hazel?’
‘What do you want me to do?’ she snapped angrily, her poise momentarily forgotten. ‘Get down and grovel at your feet?’
He laughed outright at her outburst, a deep throaty sound that she found attractive even against her will. ‘Still the little hell-cat,’ he drawled softly, moving forward with long easy strides, moving with all the stealthy grace of a jungle cat.
He was standing directly in front of her now, looking down at her through narrowed considering eyes, the jagged discoloured skin on the left side of his face clearly visible to her. ‘I think a kiss might be more in keeping with our relationship, don’t you?’
Hazel wrenched herself away from the mesmerising effect of the warmth of his body, drawn to him by the masculine smell of a hard day’s toil and the long cheroots that he smoked constantly. She had been wrong before, nothing had changed! Rafe still disturbed her with the emotions he evoked in her soft traitorous body that wanted to be crushed against him, everything else forgotten.
She had thought herself over this stupid infatuation she had always had for Rafe, that Josh and men like him who had existed in her life during the last three years had wiped out these childish fantasies. But they hadn’t! One look at Rafe as he stood there, so self-confident, so arrogant, so basically male, told her that everything was as it had been before. Except perhaps that Rafe seemed more withdrawn from her than ever, more distant somehow—if that were humanly possible.
‘We don’t have a relationship,’ she answered tautly.
Both of them had forgotten Trisha, which was perhaps as well. She had quietly escaped out of the schoolroom at the first opportunity, feeling an unwanted third.
Rafe nodded. ‘Maybe we don’t.’ One long hand moved up to run the fingers lightly over his scarred cheek. ‘Not a pleasant sight, am I?’
It was a statement, not a question, and Hazel’s eyes darkened. ‘I would never have thought you a man to be full of self-pity,’ she flung at him.
He smiled at her, a smile completely without humour. ‘Oh, I’m not, not now anyway. Don’t try any of your amateur psychoanalysis on me, little Hazel Stanford$$ keep that sort of rubbish for the people who really need it. I’ve grown quite used to looking at a monster every morning in the mirror when I shave.’
She looked down the length of his strong body. ‘I thought you had a limp too?’
‘Oh, I do, when I’m tired,’ he confirmed mockingly. ‘All I need is the hump on my back and I could standin for the Hunchback of Notre Dame.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! You’re certainly not ugly.’ Far from it!
‘Like I said, Hazel, save that sort of thing for the people who need it—or who actually believe it. I don’t. Now, I think we’ve talked that subject out, let’s talk about something less personal to me. Is your visit to be a short one?’
She licked her suddenly dry lips. ‘That depends on you, doesn’t it?’
Rafe shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘In just over a week’s time I can neither make you stay nor make you leave.’ He grimaced at their surroundings. ‘Let’s get out of here—I never did like school as a child.’
‘I can believe that. You’re exactly the type I would expect to have played truant.’
‘I did most days. I always enjoyed swimming in the cove to sitting at a desk all day.’
‘And yet you want to keep this school open.’ Hazel walked at his side back towards the house, the long safe way round this time.
‘You’ve found out a bit in the short time you’ve been back,’ he commented. ‘I want to keep the kids in this area for as long as possible. It’s for their own good in the long run.’
‘Oh, I agree with you, although I’m not sure some of them would.’
He turned to face her. ‘It’s important that some of them learn to love the beauty and naturalness of this area. And they can’t do that living away in the towns. If only a few of them learn to appreciate it that’s enough for me. I won’t be here for ever. If I should die tomorrow do you think Celia would keep the Savage estate and run it as it is now?’ He shook his head. ‘I know she wouldn’t. She’d sell out to one of the holiday organisations that have been after this land for years. I like to think there would be enough of the local people to fight such a move.’
‘You really think Celia would do such a thing?’ Her horror showed in her face.
‘I’m sure of it. I’m not blind to her faults, I never have been. Left to her the estate would be sold as quickly as possible. But I don’t intend dying just yet—not to please anyone.’ He gave her a sideways glance.
‘Rafe!’ Hazel was genuinely shocked. ‘I’ve never ever wished you dead. How could you think such a thing?’
Again he shrugged. ‘I had no word from you after the accident. It’s a natural assumption to make.’
‘But you didn’t send for me.’
‘Of course I damn well didn’t!’ He wrenched her round to face him. ‘I was in the intensive care unit of the local hospital for over a month, delirious most of the time. I didn’t realise you were waiting for a personal invitation!’ he finished in disgust.
‘But I wasn’t. I——’
‘Wasn’t Celia’s letter enough?’ he asked bitterly. ‘God, I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but I had no idea you disliked me to that extreme.’
‘But I——’
‘You what?’ he demanded. ‘Were busy? Your job was too important to you to risk losing it? Oh, I know all that, Hazel, I know all that. I’ve had plenty of time to think out your reasons. It’s amazing the amount of thinking you can do in a hospital bed, especially with most of your body strapped up in bandages. But when you can’t move thinking is about all you can do. I thought of you a lot, Hazel, about how much you must be enjoying yourself to not even have the common decency to enquire how I was. Ignore it and it will go away was your idea, wasn’t it?’ He touched his scarred cheek. ‘Well, this isn’t so easy to ignore.’
‘None of that’s true, Rafe,’ she cried desperately. ‘That isn’t the way it happened at all.’
‘How it happened doesn’t matter any more. None of the reasons come out in your favour. I just hope that once you’re twenty-one and can claim your inheritance you will kindly remove yourself from my sight.’ He gave her one last scathing look before walking away with long easy strides, the navy sweat-shirt clinging to his back in the heat of the day.
Hazel stared after him with tear-filled eyes. She wanted to stop him, tell him it wasn’t her fault, that Celia hadn’t sent her any letter. But it was no good, he would never believe her. It would be Celia’s word against hers, and Celia had a head start, three years to be exact.
Her feet took her automatically to the people she always ran to when troubled—the Marstons. Trisha’s family had always accepted her into their midst without enquiring what upset it was that had caused her to escape this time. Only two people could so upset her, Celia was one and Rafe the other, and it was best not to question too deeply; the enmity in the Savage household not a matter for general discussion.
Sylvia Marston looked up from the magazine she had been perusing, her face lighting up with pleasure as she saw the identity of her visitor. As a child Hazel had spent so much time here that it had been almost like having a second daughter, and at times she had wished she had a son Hazel could marry to make that possible. But she and Max had only been allowed the one child, leaving them love enough for an orphaned ten-year-old girl.
She stood up now, moving forward to hug this golden-haired child, for that surely was what she still was, even though she had lived alone the last three years. ‘Hazel!’ Sylvia studied her intently. Still the same trusting brown eyes that could glow with laughter or darken with pain, usually the latter in her last few months before leaving England for America. ‘Trisha said you were back, but that you were at the school talking to Rafe.’
Hazel shrugged. ‘I was. He’s gone back to the house. At least, I presume that’s where he’s gone.’
‘I see.’
Hazel smiled wanly. ‘You always did, didn’t you? Oh, Aunt Sylvia, it’s started again already!’ She slumped down on to the sofa.
Sylvia sat down beside her, placing a consoling arm about her shoulders. ‘Give it time, child, give Rafe time.’
Hazel’s eyes swam with tears. ‘Time is something I don’t have too much of where Rafe is concerned. He’s given me a week to get out of his life once and for all,’ she explained at Sylvia’s questioning look.
‘He’s what!’ Sylvia was astounded. There had always been a certain tension between Rafe and his ward, the occasional argument over trivial matters—but never open conflict. That seemed to be left to the female member of the Savage family. Poor Celia, hating a girl who could have been a good friend if allowed to be. She shook her head. ‘I’m sure you must have misunderstood him. Rafe’s your guardian, he can’t just dismiss you out of his life.’
‘He already has. And his guardianship ends in a week’s time. He said I could stay until then.’
‘But why ask you to leave at all? I don’t understand this.’ Sylvia looked sharply at Hazel. ‘Does Celia have anything to do with it? Has she been up to her tricks again?’
‘I’m afraid so.’ Hazel went on to explain Celia’s omission concerning Rafe’s accident.
Sylvia rose angrily to her feet. ‘That woman is a monster! She deserves a good hiding for the trouble she causes. How could she do such a thing!’
‘I keep asking myself the same question, and the answer isn’t pleasant. She hates me, Aunt Sylvia. She really hates me!’
Sylvia smiled gently. ‘It isn’t you personally she hates, Hazel, anyone would have done at the time. You arrived here at a time when Celia wanted and demanded that all male attention should belong to her. At sixteen she felt herself to be the most beautiful woman in the world, and she wanted everyone else to think so too, including Rafe. But he had all his spare time wrapped up in you, attention she felt she deserved.’
‘But Rafe is her brother!’
‘Even more reason for him to cosset and spoil her, for him to realise his cygnet has grown into a swan. But at the time, and rightly so, he believed you needed that extra-gentle care, the extra love he had to give. And so it was you and not Celia who received the attention of Rafe Savage. She longed to show everyone how her big strong fearless brother loved her, how he thought her beautiful. But you arrived, a little waiflike creature with eyes too big for your face and an awful lot of love you wanted to give someone. Celia felt very excluded, rejected even, and she’s gone on disliking you for it all these years.’
‘I didn’t realise … I never asked for Rafe’s care, you know.’
Sylvia laughed softly. ‘You didn’t need to. He only had to look at you to know you needed a lot of undemanding love. And he gave it to you.’
Trisha came bursting into the room, changed now into a green suntop that complemented her shoulder-length straight blonde hair and matched her twinkling green eyes. She wore white shorts and plimsolls with her top and was obviously just on her way out. ‘I thought I heard voices,’ she grinned. ‘Fancy a game of tennis, Hazel?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Hazel replied uncertainly, at the moment her mind too full of the recent revelations about Celia.
‘Oh well,’ Trisha sat down in the chair opposite them. ‘I’ll go another time.’
Now Hazel felt guilty. It wasn’t fair to inflict her problems on this happy family. They must have been relieved at the three-year break, she thought wryly. ‘Okay,’ she gave in. ‘Why not? I could probably use the exercise.’
The club couldn’t be called large by any standards, but it had all the usual activities, a pool, half a dozen tennis courts, a squash room, and of course, the bar.
Two or three of the tennis courts were already in use when they arrived, the youngsters already there old acquaintances who wasted no time in coming over to say hello. Some of the parents of these people worked on Rafe’s estate, although they always treated Hazel with the same casualness of their other acquaintances—for which she felt grateful.
There were a couple of male faces she didn’t recognise, but Trisha soon named them as the Logan brothers, Mark and Carl, staying in the village with the Delaneys. Both tall and fair and good-looking, they could almost have passed for twins, and Hazel guessed there must only be a year or two’s difference in their ages.
‘Are you going to play tennis?’ Mark asked Trisha.
She nodded enthusiastically, hurrying through the introductions. She had had her eye on Mark Logan for the last few days now and this was the first opportunity she had had to actually speak to him. He was the most attractive-looking man she had seen around here for ages, not counting Rafe of course; no one quite measured up to Rafe Savage, and she supposed no one ever would. Most of the girls in the area were half in love with Rafe and given the least encouragement would go to him on any terms he cared to make. But no encouragement was ever forthcoming.
Carl Logan smiled at Hazel. ‘Would you like to challenge them for three sets?’
Hazel laughed. ‘I’m not sure if I’m up to three sets. I haven’t played for some time, but I’m willing to try if you are. I just hope you’re a good player,’ she added teasingly.
It appeared that he was, the two of them taking the first and third sets, although not without a lengthy battle. The four of them just about collapsed into the loungers next to the pool, sipping thirstily at the iced lime juice they had ordered.
‘Your tennis is excellent.’ Carl watched her over the rim of his tall glass, his blue eyes clear and uncomplicated. He was a refreshing change after the trauma of her other meetings today.
She grinned at him. ‘I’m a little rusty,’ she corrected him. ‘If you weren’t such a good player we would have lost, miserably.’
Mark watched them with amused eyes. ‘When the two of you have quite finished complimenting each other on that purely lucky victory,’ he said tongue in cheek, ‘I suggest we all make arrangements to go to the dance together tomorrow evening.’
‘That would be lovely,’ answered Trisha excitedly. ‘Wouldn’t it, Hazel?’
Hazel looked from one to the other of them, not really sure if she should make arrangements like that without consulting Rafe first. He hadn’t always attended these weekly dances, although when he had he had always expected her to accompany him. But that had been before his accident. Anyway, hadn’t he more or less told her to keep out of his way for the duration of her stay here?
She nodded her head. ‘Yes, lovely,’ she agreed.
It was obvious that Trisha wholeheartedly approved of the idea anyway. She could talk of little else but Mark Logan on the way back to the Marston home. The Logan brothers were certainly an attractive pair, but in a way they reminded Hazel too much of Josh and the men like him she had met during her stay in America.
Maybe Josh could have meant more to her; she didn’t know, and hadn’t had the time to find out. But she had heard the rumours about him like everyone else, it hadn’t taken Linda to tell her that Josh had let his fiancée down only two weeks before the wedding. She had already heard about that and it hadn’t endeared him to her. But when she had met him she had found him charming and very attractive.
She had been a little more sorry to leave him when she left America than any of her other male friends there, but since arriving in Cornwall she could think only of Rafe. She had the feeling that Carl Logan could become a friend if she would let him, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted that.
‘Coming in for dinner?’ Trisha invited.
Hazel shook her head regretfully. ‘I’d love to, but I suppose I’d better get back,’ she grimaced. ‘No doubt Celia would just love for me to absent myself from the dining table. Think of the trouble she could cause if I don’t turn up for dinner on my first evening home. Lord, I’d forgotten all about these intrigues! It’s just as if I’d never been away.’