Afterwards they explored the town’s shops and paused to study the illuminated outline of the castle in the darkness of the late autumn afternoon before returning to the car to drive to the hotel where they were to dine.
There was no need for them to return to change, Tom had assured Chelsea. The hotel he had chosen served first-class food in an atmosphere geared to appreciation of the dishes rather than the patrons’ clothes.
It was nearly seven when they reached it via a narrow winding country road, and Chelsea was delighted to see that the hotel incorporated what had once been one of the Border peel towers.
‘Until a few years ago it was a private house,’ Tom told her. ‘It’s been extended at the back and modernised, and they seem to do quite well from people coming up here for peace and quiet, and as I said, the restaurant has a very good reputation.’
Despite the fact that he lived at home with his parents, Tom had travelled extensively before working in New Zealand, and Chelsea found him a far more entertaining companion than many of the so-called ‘sophisticated professional’ men she knew in Melchester.
The hotel restaurant was attractively designed and furnished to take the most advantage of the natural, exposed stone walls and floor without in any way sacrificing either comfort or warmth. A huge open fire at one end of the room supplied the latter, and Chelsea noticed when she was handed her menu that the choice was every bit as extensive as she would have found in a London restaurant.
‘I can recommend the steak,’ Tom told her. ‘It will be best Scotch beef.’
Heeding his advice, Chelsea gave her order. After a brief consultation with the wine waiter, Tom asked for her preference.
During the evening the restaurant gradually filled up, and although the staff were obviously busy, Chelsea found it a pleasant change not to be hurried away so that someone else could occupy their table.
Feeling pleasantly mellow, she thanked Tom for the evening as they eventually sauntered out to the car. Somehow when she was with him she found it unnecessary to adopt the defensive tactics she used with other men. Ridiculous though it sounded, in many ways he could have been the brother she had never had; a true friend whom one could depend on… Steady, she warned herself as he unlocked the Range Rover; you’ve known him less than a month… She glanced sideways into his pleasant, cheerful face.
‘Warm enough?’
‘Fine, thanks,’ she assured him. ‘I’ve really enjoyed today.’
‘Me too. You know, it’s a real treat to take out a girl who isn’t constantly expecting compliments; who doesn’t try to turn every conversation into personal channels…’
For the first time that she could remember Chelsea found that she was not dreading the inevitable goodnight kiss at the end of their ride with any sense of trepidation. She glanced at Tom surreptitiously. He radiated a warm steadfastness, a sturdy dependability. Her mouth quirked upwards in faint self-mockery. She was getting soft in her old age; longing for the protective caring male—but to protect her from what? she wondered soberly. That part of her nature so brutally revealed to her by Slade Ashford? Tom would never arouse her as Slade had done; she knew that instinctively and was reassured by it. Slade had reminded her too acutely of Darren and how close she had come to giving herself completely to the playwright. Deep down inside her but hitherto unacknowledged was the fear that there was vulnerability in passion, in giving oneself wholly into the keeping of another human being, and having been so vulnerable once she intended to make sure that she never was again. With Tom she would never feel vulnerable.
It had started to rain and the hypnotic sound of the windscreen wipers lulled her into drowsiness. She relaxed into her seat, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Tom glanced at her and smiled. He had enjoyed their evening together, and hoped it would be the forerunner of many. He liked Chelsea for her honesty as much as her beauty. He was honest enough to admit that she had an untouched quality which appealed very strongly to him.
The sudden cessation of movement woke her. She opened her eyes with a start, smiling wryly as she realised that they were parked in front of the Dower House.
‘How very rude of me,’ she apologised, ‘falling asleep like that.’
‘Umm, pity you woke up when you did,’ Tom grinned. ‘I was rather fancying the handsome prince bit. In fact…’ He bent towards her, his left arm curving round her shoulders, and drew her gently towards him.
There was ample opportunity for her to withdraw, but strangely enough she had no desire to do so. When he did kiss her, it was a tentative gentle kiss.
‘Tom…’
‘I know,’ he said ruefully, ‘it’s late and you have to be up early in the morning. Me too, but I have enjoyed this evening, Chelsea, and I’d like to think there’ll be others.’
His mouth was smiling, but there was a question in his eyes that couldn’t be ignored.
Impulsively Chelsea nodded her head.
‘Good. I suppose you’d better go in before Mrs Rudge comes out to see what we’re doing.’
She paused by the front door to wave Tom off, a new buoyant mood taking hold of her. She had enjoyed the evening; they had a good deal in common, and if their relationship threatened to lack the intense sexual electricity generated by other couples, she for one did not regret the omission.
Her hand was on the door when it was jerked open from the inside, almost causing her to lose her balance.
The first thing her startled eyes encountered was a pair of male thighs encased in expensive cream gaberdine. Her glance travelled mutely upwards, and bewilderment gave way to consternation as she found herself looking into Slade Ashford’s icy-cold green eyes.
‘You! But…’
‘I’m the last person you expected to see again?’ he jeered. ‘What do you do? Map out an area and then fish it dry?’
‘You followed me up here? But…’
‘You thought you’d covered your tracks too well? You had,’ he agreed curtly. ‘I didn’t come up here looking for you, but finding you is an added bonus and one of which I intend to take full advantage. You still owe me, just in case you’re in danger of forgetting. I shouldn’t have thought a place like this would appeal to a woman of your… talents.’
Chelsea’s stupefaction evaporated in a wave of anger at the contempt in his voice.
‘What happened?’ he demanded contemptuously. ‘Did you cheat on one man too many, or has it finally dawned on you that even looks like yours don’t last for ever and that a doting husband is still the best form of insurance available to women like you—teasing bitches who get their kicks leading men on and then dropping them flat. Someone ought to warn young Tom about you!’
‘Warn? Just who do you think you are?’ Chelsea stormed at him. ‘And what are you doing here?’
‘I could ask the same question of you.’
‘Contrary to what you seem to think, I’m here to work,’ Chelsea snapped. ‘I’m employed by the firm working under the National Trust up at Darkwater.’
For a moment it seemed to her that he looked surprised, but his eyes were shielded quickly by the thick dark fan of his lashes before she could be sure of what she had seen, his voice dulcet as he drawled, ‘And Tom, I take it, is merely a pleasant little diversion to help while away the time?’
‘He’s a gentleman, which is far more than can be said for you,’ Chelsea said bitterly.
‘Because he says goodnight with a chaste, adoring kiss? Oh yes, I saw it. But it didn’t turn you on, did it?’
‘Implying, I suppose, that your kisses did?’ Chelsea flung at him, too furious for caution. ‘God, the male ego really is incredible! You just can’t believe that I might have found your touch revolting; that I might…’
‘Merely have agreed to come back to my flat with me because you thought you were on to a good thing? Like I’ve just said, you still owe me, Chelsea, and I’m a man who always collects his dues.’
Just for a moment she was tempted to wrench open the door an
d run as far and as fast as she could, but then common sense and pride prevailed. She was not going to show fear before Slade Ashford of all men!
Fighting against the shock of his totally unexpected appearance, she marshalled her senses sufficiently to remember that while he had been insulting and questioning her, she still had no knowledge of what he was doing at the Dower House. She had just opened her mouth to demand an explanation for his presence when the door to the kitchen was suddenly opened and Mrs Rudge emerged to demand belligerently, ‘So there you are, Master Slade. Yon supper’s getting cold. Oh, it’s you back, is it?’ she sniffed when she saw Chelsea, before turning aside to mutter quite audibly under her breath about the lack of consideration of people who turned up at all hours without warning, masters of Darkwater or not.
The blood drained from Chelsea’s face, her eyes darkening to amethyst as she stared up at him.
‘You own Darkwater?’
She didn’t need his mocking assent to confirm her shocked whisper; she could read the answer in the cold green eyes and wondered dully how she had missed the proprietorial stance of the lean body, the arrogant air of ownership implicit in the hard gaze. She couldn’t stay here now, knowing whose roof she was under. First thing in the morning she would have to telephone Jerome and ask to be taken off the job.