What was she really afraid of? she asked herself, as she tugged a brush through her hair and studied her reflection pensively in the mirror. That a man might reject her because he thought she had had an illegitimate child? Or that if she cared deeply enough about someone to tell them the truth they might not share her view of the enormity of the crime against her sister. It had been a long time since she had examined her own deep feelings so intensely, perhaps too long.
In London, with a growing, demanding business to take up all her time and Lucy to worry about, there never seemed to be an opportunity to sit down and think about herself. Or was it that she didn’t want to dwell too deeply on her own emotions or lack of them? Harley had accused her on more than one occasion of being a-human. Who knew? Perhaps he was right. A self-mocking smile curved her generous mouth. What would they say, all those men who had striven so hard to get her into their beds, if they knew the truth? That far from being a cool, composed, experienced woman, she was in reality no more than a frightened, inexperienced virgin. The thought was ludicrous enough to make her laugh. What did it matter? No one was ever likely to know the truth, apart from herself.
Once again, irritatingly, a mental image of the man who had admired her car with words and her body with his eyes flashed across her mind, the blue eyes taunting, the curl of his mouth suggesting with arrogant maleness that he knew everything there was to know about her sex. Why had she allowed him to antagonise her so intensely? The man was a stranger, someone she had never met before, nor was ever likely to meet again. Shrugging aside the memory of how he had looked at her, Jenna went downstairs.
‘Sorry I’m so late,’ she apologised to Nancy as she walked into the kitchen. ‘I can’t think what happened.’ She wrinkled her nose ruefully. ‘I haven’t slept so deeply for years. Where’s Lucy?’
‘Gone out,’ Nancy informed her drily, adding bluntly, ‘I know you won’t like my saying this, Jenna, but it’s high time you told her the truth. If you don’t——’ She broke off as they heard a car outside.
‘Funny!’ she exclaimed, her forehead puckering in a frown. ‘I wasn’t expecting Bill back so soon. He’s driven down to the village to get some more bread. There’s nothing wrong with young Lucy’s appetite, whatever else might be ailing her.’
But it wasn’t Bill who came to the kitchen door. It was Lucy, her eyes shining, her cheeks flushed, and with her, to Jenna’s complete consternation and shock, was the man whose features had so annoyingly impressed themselves upon her mind, to the extent that twice during the last half an hour she had recalled them in vivid detail. As she looked at him, she realised that her memory had not played her false. His eyes were as intensely blue as she remembered, his skin as healthily tanned.
‘Lucy, where on earth have you been?’ she asked her niece frostily, dragging her attention away from the male figure lounging in the open doorway and forcing herself to concentrate instead on the teenager’s flushed and rebellious features. What was Lucy doing with this stranger, a stranger whose overt sexuality made her mouth compress in bitter contempt? He flaunted his sexuality like a banner and it disgusted her, riveting her attention until Lucy spoke.
‘Out!’ The pert toss of the dark hair which accompanied the defiant challenge only increased Jenna’s perturbation, but she managed to mask her fear with a coolness she was far from feeling.
How many times had she warned Lucy against the folly of talking to strangers; any strangers. It made no difference that every instinct she possessed told her that this man was definitely not the type who needed to waylay young girls in order to obtain sexual satisfaction.
‘I’m afraid the fault lies with me.’ His words fell into the thick pool of silence, stagnant with antagonism, that had fallen on the kitchen after Lucy’s defiant remark, and it goaded Jenna unbearably to know that beneath the conventional apology he was probably laughing at her.
‘I met your daughter down at the Hall and offered to give her a lift back here. It seems that you and I are going to be in competition at the auction this morning.’
Jenna’s eyes left his face and darted to Lucy’s. What had Lucy been doing down at the old Hall? For now her concentration on her niece was something she could use as a defence mechanism to block out the shock of what she had just been told. He wanted to buy the Hall. Her mouth curled unwittingly into a bitter smile. So much for her initial assumptions about him.
‘And what exactly were you doing down there, Lucy?’ she questioned curtly, trying to blank out the feeling of tension invading her veins. What had happened to the excited euphoria with which she had woken up? It was gone, banished by the presence of this dark, mocking man.
‘I just wanted to see what it looked like.’ Lucy’s reply was sulky.
‘Without telling anyone where you were going?’ Jenna knew she was overdoing her chastisement, and that it would be wiser to keep her criticisms until they were alone, but something about the enigmatic scrutiny of the man watching them was driving her on. It was as though somehow they were locked in some sort of secret battle…If that was the case, establishing her parental authority over Lucy was hardly likely to win it, Jenna reflected, slightly ashamed of the way she had spoken so sharply to the younger girl. She wasn’t so far removed from her teenage years herself that she could not remember how touchy and vulnerable a teenager’s pride was. Her voice softened slightly. ‘I’m sorry, Lucy,’ she apologised, curling her fingers into her palms and refusing to look in the direction of the sardonic stranger. She didn’t want to see him gloating over her apology. ‘I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that but…’
‘She shouldn’t have accepted a lift with me.’
Once again the cool drawl raised tiny goosebumps of prickly resentment on Jenna’s sensitive skin. ‘My fault again, I insisted. It seemed foolish to let her walk when I was coming this way…’ He shrugged powerfully broad shoulders, this morning encased in a thick navy jumper that added to his ruggedly masculine appearance.
‘Really?’
The moment she spoke the coolly dismissive word, Jenna knew that she had fallen into a carefully baited trap.
‘Yes.’ He ignored her cool withdrawal and smiled instead at Nancy. ‘If I might come in for a second?’
He was still standing just by the door, and Jenna watched with narrowed eyes and a prickling sense of foreboding as Nancy coloured slightly and said quickly, ‘Oh, my goodness, of course! Please do.’
He was a charmer all right, Jenna thought critically, but even if Nancy was not immune she was. She was looking at him, studying him as he walked into the room, watching the lean, long-legged way he moved, his movements as fluid as those of a great jungle cat—and just as dangerous—when suddenly she was conscious that she was staring and that, worse, he was aware of it. The look he gave her as their eyes clashed made her feel as though he could see right into her mind and read every thought in it. He knew how antagonistic she was to him. A fine shudder of apprehension rippled through her body. An outright reaction to her antipathy she could deal with, but somehow his deliberate refusal to show any response at all was unnerving.
‘Well, thank you for bringing Lucy back for us, Mr ..?’ Jenna paused and he obligingly filled the space for her. ‘Allingham,’ he told her laconically, ‘James Allingham.’
His name meant nothing to her, but the smile that curled his mou
th without reaching his eyes chilled her.
‘Lucy tells me you’re hoping to buy the Hall and use it as a headquarters for your business interests,’ he commented, observing her, Jenna noticed, with eyes that were suddenly almost frighteningly watchful.
‘Yes,’ she agreed, not knowing what else to do. Who was this man? Obviously not the farm labourer she had originally supposed. He might be wearing casual clothes—a checked shirt, a thick sweater and a pair of cords—but they were expensive casuals. It irritated her now that she had allowed his blatant sexuality to blind her to the fact that he was a potential rival for possession of the Hall. ‘And you, Mr Allingham,’ she challenged, lifting her head and looking directly into his eyes, letting him know that she wouldn’t be easily intimidated, ‘what is your purpose in wishing to acquire the property?’ It crossed her mind that he could quite possibly refuse to tell her, but he didn’t.
His smile widened, but still did not reach his eyes. ‘Well, as to that,’ he drawled, making her remember that she had previously thought that his heritage wasn’t entirely British, ‘my ancestors originally came from here and I kinda thought it would be rather nice to keep the property in family hands.’
Jenna went white, a small gasp escaping her lips before she could stop herself from betraying her shock. James Allingham was a Deveril! No wonder she had felt so antagonistic towards him, she reflected bitterly. Her senses must have known what her mind had not. Don’t be ridiculous, she chided herself mentally, her antagonism had initially sprung from the fact that he was so overpoweringly and blatantly male, and nothing else. Even so, it was a shock to discover that he was related to the Deverils.