Bittersweet Passion. LYNNE GRAHAM
Читать онлайн книгу.
and spoilt by the fashion in which women pursued him. Her weary mouth down-curved. Who the heck did he think was going to toil over a hot stove to make his wretched meal? But why should he think? Used as he was to servants, it would not occur to Dane that he was creating hassle she could well do without.
The atmosphere round the table in the icy cold dining-room was tense. Dane ate with unblemished appetite. Carter, who looked upon anything remotely different in the food line as suspicious, poked his food round his plate, and Sandra was too busy trying to flirt with Dane to notice what she was eating.
‘Is it OK if I stay tonight?’ Dane enquired lazily. ‘I’m jet-lagged and I don’t feel like another journey.’
Claire nodded politely. ‘That’s fine.’
Another two beds to make up, unless he expected his chauffeur to sleep in the car! She trailed worn, thin sheets from the airing cupboard and trekked into the bedrooms. The rooms were so cold her breath was fogging in the air, and she went downstairs again to fill hot-water bottles that would take the chill off the rarely used beds. Then she lit a fire in Dane’s room. He was sure to be finding it colder than anyone else.
By the time she had done all that and embarked on the dishes, she was practically asleep standing up. When Carter came in and demanded to know where Maisie was, she nearly screamed at him. Slowly she counted to ten. ‘It’s late, Carter. I sent her home hours ago.’
‘Leave those, then. It’s time we talked.’
Setting the last dish to drain, she dried her hands. ‘Sorry, I’m going up to bed. It’s been a very long day.’
His mouth narrowed in exasperation. ‘For everybody, Claire,’ he rebuked condescendingly.
A fuse blew, Claire planted her hands on her hips. ‘Has it been? Were any of the rest of you involved in making beds, cleaning this wretched house or making meals? Has one of you so much as lifted a finger? Sandra and you arrived two days ago, and neither of you have done a single thing,’ she condemned. ‘Who do you think has been doing it? The fairies? The past week has been one long, relentless slog for me. I haven’t been sitting around sipping tea. I’ve been serving it. I wouldn’t marry you either, Carter, not if you went down on your bended knees and begged. I’m sorry your little plan has failed at the last ditch,’ she lied in a shaking voice. ‘Goodnight, Carter.’
She swept past his turkey-red face and mounted the stairs, hearing his shocked murmurings to his sister in the hall below. Well, she wasn’t ashamed of herself! Whatever the future held for her, she wasn’t going to be used by anyone again!
She recalled the social worker who had ferried her up here thirteen years ago. ‘You’re a very lucky little girl,’ that lady had said innocently. ‘You still have a family and you’re going to live in a lovely big house. I expect you’ll have lots of fun there.’ And Claire could still remember the coldness of the non-existent welcome mat, the lady’s uneasy, almost guilty departure.
On the surface, the passage of time had changed very little. However, she was a grown woman now, not a frightened, dependent child and if she didn’t fight, no one else would do the fighting for her, Automatically she readied herself for bed.
‘You’ll be taken care of. I’ve seen to that,’ Adam had pronounced piously weeks ago.
Taken care of? By what right had he chosen to reach out from beyond the grave to demand that she marry a man who didn’t even have the saving grace of respecting her? And she owed Carter nothing. Neither he nor his sister had even tried to ease the burden of nursing their grandfather. But oh, yes! they all had time to attend the funeral and none of them had the smallest interest in what happened to the Morleys. For the first time she appreciated that Maisie and Sam’s future was dependent on what she herself chose to do and the lunatic idea that had occurred to her earlier suddenly didn’t seem quite so fantastic any more.
Her hands shook with suppressed rage as she buttoned her robe. After all these years was she to let the Morleys go from this house penniless? Things might have been different had she been allowed to train as a secretary … or something. She could have helped them financially then. Instead, she had spent the past seven years being nothing more than a glorified servant. God knows, there weren’t even jobs out there for qualified people—what hope did she have? And Max? Being fired hadn’t helped his prospects. He’d done nothing to deserve such treatment. Neither had Maisie and Sam. Adam owed all of them more than that. If she married Dane, the terms of the will would be fulfilled. It would cost him nothing, yet it would mean so much to everyone else concerned.
What harm would it do just to mention the idea to him? You’re a coward. She glowered at herself myopically in the mirror. You could at least try. So what if he laughs? When are you likely to see him again?
Buoyed by a courage that was three-quarters desperation, she left her room and crept down the corridor to knock on Dane’s door. His quiet answer encouraged her in.
To her dismay he was already in bed, lying back against the pillows like a rather gorgeous sleek and tawny tiger, replete, the covers dipping dangerously low on his flat stomach. A curling mass of dark hair covered a triangular V on his muscular chest and then tapered down to an intriguing silky furrow below his waist. Framed against the white sheets, his golden skin was all the more noticeable. The interior of her mouth ran dry and she hastily averted her eyes.
He smiled. ‘I was just about to put out the light. Tell me, did everyone else qualify for a fire?’
Claire blushed and glanced at the fire she had kindled earlier. ‘No, but since you’re just back from abroad I thought you might feel the cold more. I need to speak to you … could you put something on?’ she asked hesitantly.
He laughed. ‘Don’t be such a prude, Claire. I don’t have pyjamas, and I distinctly recall you spending half the night with me when you had toothache years ago. It didn’t bother you then.’
‘I was eleven.’ Her breath was snarling up in her throat and she could feel her courage fleeing her second by second, so although she hadn’t planned it that way, she just hurled it at him.’ Dane … will you marry me?’
IF she had ever desired to see Dane the unshockable shocked, she saw it now. Sapphire-blue eyes arrowed over her incredulously. ‘Christ, you’re not still hung up on me, are you?’
Her small hands dug into the pockets of her dressing-gown. How conceited could a man get? So he had noticed. She supposed she ought to be thanking her lucky stars that he hadn’t felt the need to crush her with his cruel sarcasm back then.
‘Naturally not,’ she fielded stiltedly, wishing she had not gone too far to retreat. ‘I’m in a fix or I wouldn’t ask you. I’m not talking about a proper marriage, for goodness’ sake. I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that! I only need a licence to satisfy grandfather’s will.’
Dane pulled himself semi-upright in the bed and fixed his unsettling gaze on her tiny figure in the homespun dressing-gown, her slippered feet showing beneath the hem. ‘Underneath, you’re a real Fletcher, aren’t you? Anything for money,’ he derided. ‘I just never figured you would have the colossal impertinence to even consider me! Stick to Carter.’
A tide of painful heat scorched her skin. But she could not leave him with the false impression he had. ‘The Morleys will be in a terrible situation if there’s no money …’
Dane surveyed her grimly. ‘And who the hell are they?’
She thrust up her chin. ‘Grandfather’s two survivng servants. Sam is the gardener. He’s not very well at the moment. Maisie’s the housekeeper. They’re both in their seventies. No, it’s not funny, Dane.’ Her husky voice abruptly developed steel. ‘They live in a cottage over at the Meadowfield. It’s a hovel. Grandfather never did a single thing for them. If I don’t marry someone, no one else is likely to help them.’
‘You’re