Stronger Than Yearning. Penny Jordan
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Jenna possessed told her so.
‘That’s right.’ Her curt, clipped voice warned him against any further intrusion, but, as before, he ignored it.
‘Do you think that’s wise, for a mother to completely abandon the upbringing of her child to others?’
For a moment Jenna was so angry that she had to clench her hands tightly against the leather of the seat to stop herself from coming out with the first biting retort that sprang to her lips.
‘I am a single parent, Mr Allingham,’ she said at last, ‘and in common with other single parents I have to earn money to support myself and my daughter. Much as I would love to spend more time with Lucy it just hasn’t been possible.’ Inwardly she was shaking with temper. How dared he? How dared he criticise her like this?
‘Oh, come on now, I don’t believe that.’
Against her will Jenna felt her glance drawn to his. His eyes were cold and watchful where her own were hot with resentment. ‘A woman with your … assets,’ he said softly ‘would never have any problem in finding a man to support her … and her child.’
His implication stunned her. There were a thousand things she could have said: that she loathed his sex and would never, ever allow herself to be dependent on a member of it, that she preferred to be independent, that —— Bottling up the violent emotion clamouring for release inside her, she gritted through her teeth, ‘But I happen to prefer paying my own way through life.’
Now he smiled at her, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile. ‘A rather masculine way of looking at things, wouldn’t you say? Most women prefer to have a husband to lean on for both emotional and financial support.’
‘Yes, no doubt,’ Jenna agreed crisply, ‘and a good many of them discover later in life just how fragile that support is when their husbands leave them for someone else. Someone younger and fresher. I have no desire to marry, Mr Allingham,’ she told him in brittle tones, too carried away by her feelings to watch what she was saying, ‘even if that means that I don’t have as much time to spend with Lucy as I would wish. She’s a teenager and at the moment, as all teenagers are wont to do, she’s apt to feel herself hard done by.’
‘Umm. Lucy told me that she didn’t have a father.’
A sensation of pain lanced through Jenna. She could feel him watching her. ‘Are you widowed, divorced?’
She longed to refuse to answer his impertinent questions, but pride would not allow her to do so. ‘Neither.’
‘So …’
The way he murmured the word made Jenna suspect that he had already known what her answer would be. ‘You must have been very young when Lucy was born.’
‘Old enough.’ She wasn’t aware of how much bitterness there was in her voice, only a profound sense of relief as the Hall lodge gates came into sight.
‘And that’s why you hate my sex so much, is it?’ he pressed. ‘Because Lucy’s father deserted you. Left you to bear the burden of parenthood alone?’
As they went up the drive, all Jenna wanted was to escape from his questions and his proximity. ‘Is that what you think?’ she snapped at him. ‘It fits neatly into all the psychiatrists’ theories, doesn’t it?’
She was conscious of the glance he gave her, but because of the other cars parked ahead of him, he had to stop, and the moment he did so, Jenna unfastened her seat-belt and got out of his car without waiting to see if he was following her.
The cool morning air soothed her flushed cheeks and. her temper. It had been foolish to let him get to her so easily. She shrugged dismissively as she walked towards the house. After today, once the Hall was hers, she would never see him again. But would it be hers? The doubts she had refused to give weight to since he had first made her aware of his intentions now surfaced.
For all that it needed a good deal of money spending on it, the old Hall was not being auctioned cheaply. James Allingham would be as aware of the reserve price as she was herself. In order to buy it, he would need to be a reasonably wealthy man. Without false modesty Jenna knew that many people would consider her to be very comfortably off, but for her to buy the Hall and restore it she would need to employ her company’s assets. Hence her decision to use it as the company headquarters.
What line of business was James Allingham in, she wondered. He had mentioned that his ancestors had included a sugar planter, but with the abolition of slavery the finances of these once-wealthy men had waned. His accent was American — but only faintly so. Shrugging impatiently she cautioned herself to put him out of her mind and to concentrate instead on the coming auction. But James Allingham and the house had become strangely intertwined, and it was becoming impossible to think of one without the other. Straightening her spine, Jenna vowed mentally that she was not going to let him best her.
There was a martial glint in her eyes that Harley would have recognised — and deplored. Normally extremely cool and level-headed when it came to business matters, Jenna could occasionally be provoked into a certain rashness — the curse of her red hair and turbulent temperament, she acknowledged as she walked into the house.
THE auction was being held in the large Georgian drawing-room in the newer part of the house. When Jenna made her way there, she found the room less than half full, which was reassuring. The auctioneer was already in place, studying some papers in front of him, and Jenna suspected that the small group of bystanders gathered together to one side of him were probably more curious than actively interested in bidding.
Jenna had already been in contact with the firm of estate agents, who were acting as auctioneers, on several occasions in connection with the house and up until this morning she had felt that she stood every chance of securing the property at the reserve price. She saw James Allingham come into the room and saunter across it to stand almost opposite. There was no smile in his eyes now, and Jenna felt as though they were two opponents facing one another prior to joining battle. She wondered if anyone else in the room was as aware of the animosity between them as she was herself. She was in little doubt that James Allingham had sought her out so that he could gauge the competition he might have in the bidding, and she was aware of a tiny frisson of fear running over her skin as the bidding began.
Gradually as the minutes ticked by the more halfhearted bidders dropped out. Soon it was down to Jenna, James Allingham, and one other, a bluff beefy Northerner, who, Jenna heard someone next to her whisper, was a builder.
When they reached the reserve price her stomach nerves knotted in tension. The builder dropped out, and Jenna felt herself tense as she saw James Allingham coolly raise his hand.
Dare she try to outbid him? She bit her lip worrying at it, knowing down to the last thousand pounds how high she could go, and then desire overrode caution and she raised her rolled pamphlet, forcing herself not to glance across the room at James Allingham as she did so.
She was conscious of a stir of interest around her as the bystanders began to realise they were witnessing a tense duel between the dark-haired man and the redheaded woman. Caution vanished as Jenna was urged on, both by her desire for the house and her desire to triumph over James Allingham.
The price crept inexorably upwards and Jenna’s heart sank as she realised she could not continue bidding for much longer. Already she was way, way over her self-imposed limit and Harley would be having a fit if he was here with her.
She saw James Allingham’s brief nod to the auctioneer after her own latest bid.
‘Another thousand … am I bid another thousand?’ The auctioneer looked encouragingly at her and Jenna knew she should bow out, but she couldn’t do it … not with so many speculative pairs of eyes watching … not when she wanted the Hall so desperately that she was ready to mortgage her very soul for it … not when losing meant James Allingham winning. She raised her hand, curling