8 Magnificent Millionaires. Cathy Williams
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assert that flowers only reminded him of funerals. She got the feeling it had to do with whatever was tormenting him about his past, and her stomach turned over at the thought. Had someone close to him died? Someone he couldn’t forget? His wife, maybe?
‘Liadan!’
She swivelled at her name, her gaze seeking out who had called her. When she saw Steven Ferrers hurrying towards her, a garden rake hoisted in one hand and his long dark hair flying, she felt every muscle in her body contract warily. What did he want?
‘I’m glad I caught you.’ As he drew near his glance was piercing and far too familiar. Liadan wished she’d got back to the house before he’d seen her, but tried hard to conceal her irritation. George Ferrers was a sweetie but his son was not in the same league as his father. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
‘What can I do for you, Mr Ferrers?’
‘Oh, come on!’ Grinning in disbelief, he swept his gaze down her figure in her long tweed coat and up again to the riot of red-gold curls that the wind had blown free of her bun. ‘We don’t need to stand on ceremony, do we? My name’s Steven. We’re both young, both stuck out here in the middle of bloody nowhere, and it’s going to be a long winter, sweetheart. What say you and me have a bit of fun? There’s a bit of a get-together tonight down at the village hall—some football mates of mine and their girls. I’m sure you could get the evening off if you fluttered those pretty eyelashes of yours at Mr Jacobs.’
The whole idea was so preposterous that Liadan was genuinely astounded. When God had been handing out bare-faced cheek, Steven Ferrers certainly hadn’t been lingering at the back of the queue. Flutter her eyelashes at Adrian Jacobs indeed! She could just imagine where that would get her. Then she remembered his dark eyes turning unsettlingly smoky during that incident in his study when he’d asked her to help to pick up his papers. Her heartbeat seemed to quicken and her breath grow suddenly shallow.
‘I think I ought to make one thing clear right now, Steven. I’m not looking to have a “bit of fun” with anyone. I’m here to do a job, and that’s all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back to work.’ Liadan was about to turn away, and her blue eyes flew wide in alarm when Steven grabbed her arm none too gently, glaring at her with a hard, almost threatening glance that made her blood run cold. ‘Think yourself too good for the likes of me, do you, angel? You’ll be glad enough of some normal male company after a week working for him up there! He’s not interested in women, darling, no matter how pretty. He’s got too much ice in his veins for that. You read his books? The only women he’s interested in are corpses! Spooky, wouldn’t you say?’
Pulling her arm free, Liadan felt as if her bones had suddenly turned as soggy as wet noodles. The hand she withdrew was visibly shaking in its protective bright orange glove. ‘Don’t you ever lay so much as a finger on me again, do you hear? If you do I’ll speak to the police! I won’t even hesitate—do you hear?’
It wasn’t an idle threat, either. Her friend Mel’s father was the local chief constable for the area. The thought comforted her. Alone in this out-of-the-way place, with Adrian too absorbed in his work to have an inkling what was going on should there be some kind of threat, she wanted to make sure that Steven knew she was no easy target for his mischief.
‘I thought you looked like a frigid, stuck-up bitch when I first set eyes on you! Your threats don’t frighten me, sweetheart. Police, my eye!’ As he turned and stamped back up the path towards the greenhouses Liadan let out a long, ragged breath and pressed her gloved hands to the raging heat in her face. She’d sensed that Steven Ferrers would be trouble the moment she’d set eyes on him. She wished her damned intuition had been wrong for once.
Adrian stepped back from the window, unable to suppress the strange sense of betrayal that ebbed through him at the sight of Liadan talking to an animated Steven Ferrers. After he had broken one of his own cardinal rules yesterday and revealed to her information that normally MI5 and the CIA wouldn’t be able to drag out of him, Adrian found himself speculating whether he could trust her after all. Young Ferrers was a cocky so-and-so, and definitely not someone to place your trust in. If Liadan didn’t have the wits to deduce that for herself, then both of them were in trouble.
Adrian had only employed Steven out of deference to George; he was well aware of the younger man’s employment history. It was unusual if he managed to hold down a job for more than a couple of weeks, according to his records. Clearly allergic to work, he sought out every opportunity to disappear for a smoke and Adrian knew that George had covered for him on numerous occasions when Steven had hopped off home early. Right now he was holding onto his job by a wing and a prayer. That said…what did he want with Liadan? Sighing, Adrian silently answered his own question. Liadan was young, beautiful and available—just by virtue of the fact that she was living and working in Adrian’s house. To Steven Ferrers she was doubtless easy pickings.
Irritation growing into disquieting, gnawing rage, Adrian swore and turned back to his computer.
‘What are they doing in here? I never have flowers in the house…ever! Didn’t Kate tell you?’
Her whole body tensing, Liadan turned from dusting the beautiful gold carriage clock on the marble mantelpiece and tried to smile. It was all very well coolly trotting out ‘nothing’s set in stone, though, is it?’ to George Ferrers, but now, faced with what she had done in the light of Adrian’s apparent loathing, she couldn’t help feeling she’d made a bad decision. Judging by the furious scowl across his deeply compelling features, a very bad decision.
‘They bring sunshine into the house and light up the room…don’t you think?’ In the face of his obvious hostility, Liadan’s words sounded ineffectual and feeble, like trying to irrigate miles of desert with a watering can. No matter how passionate she was on the subject, she knew she would never convince him that the vivid yellow flowers that filled the beautiful glass vases on either side of the fireplace should stay.
‘Get rid of them!’ Turning his back, Adrian paused in the doorway, clearly too overwhelmed with anger to even face her. Gazing at the tense stance of those impressively broad shoulders beneath his black cashmere sweater, Liadan concluded it must take a massive amount of mental discipline to contain that much fury and emotion twenty-four hours a day. Didn’t he ever get tired of being so angry?
‘I’m sorry you don’t like them. I’ll remove them to my room.’
‘What were you doing talking to Steven Ferrers?’ Like a whiplash he had spun round to face her again, his dark eyes openly hostile and suspicious.
Because he was confrontational and she was genuinely upset about having to remove the flowers, Liadan raised her chin defiantly.
‘Is that against the rules too?’
‘When you live under my roof, Liadan, you obey my rules. I’m not interested in whether you like them or not.’
Biting down on her lip, Liadan held onto her own temper by a thread. It didn’t matter that she wished Steven Ferrers wouldn’t come within ten feet of her, never mind talk to her! What did matter was that she objected to being spoken to like a badly behaved child.
‘So what are you saying? That I’m not to converse with the two other members of your staff, ever? That could make things slightly awkward.’ Her cornflower blue eyes were glittering, and another emotion besides irritation swept through Adrian as he studied her. Even when she was furious—and he could see that she was—with that tumbling red-gold hair that refused to stay bound and her eye-catching figure in jeans and a white ribbed sweater, she undeniably stirred his blood. Sucking in a deep breath, Adrian strained every muscle in his body to try and tamp down the power of his desire.
‘It’s Steven I want you to keep away from, as much as possible. George is a good man—you have nothing to fear from him.’
Her heart knocking against her ribs, a vivid image stealing into her mind of Steven Ferrers’ face hovering angrily too close to her own—so close that she could smell the tobacco on his breath—Liadan blinked in surprise.