An Enticing Debt to Pay

by Annie West

  Bile seared his throat as he reviewed that day. He’d stormed in, all violent temper and attitude, and nearly ripped her head off when she’d dared stand up to him.

  ‘Your hair,’ he croaked, his windpipe tight. ‘That’s why your hair was so short.’

  Ravenna lifted a hand to the sable curls clustering like a dark halo around her face. ‘I’m growing it now.’

  ‘I remember it before. It used to be long.’ For months after meeting the teenage Ravenna Jonas had wondered why so many women cut their hair short. There’d been something deliciously appealing about long female tresses.

  ‘Another drink, sir? And something to eat?’ He hadn’t noticed the waiter approach.

  ‘Another cognac.’ He didn’t drink much but today he needed it. Confronting the truth had never been so unpalatable. ‘Ravenna? Something to eat?’

  She looked up and after a moment’s hesitation engaged the waiter in a discussion of the day’s specials. When she’d ordered he said he’d have the same and finally they were alone.

  ‘It wasn’t you who stole my money, was it?’ Jonas spoke through gritted teeth. How could he have fallen for her story? Hadn’t the evidence pointed to Silvia from the first?

  After a lifetime keeping a lid on his feelings, they’d finally erupted with the news of the embezzlement, undercutting his usual clear thinking. Why hadn’t he questioned her more closely when she admitted the theft?

  Because his blistering anger had needed a target and she was handy. Because she was the daughter of the woman he’d spent years blaming for his father’s defection, despite knowing Piers had always sought his own pleasure rather than embracing his responsibilities.

  It had been easier taking out his long-simmering fury on Ravenna than dealing with the fact that the person who’d been at the root of so much pain—Piers Deveson—was finally beyond either reproach or reconciliation.

  ‘It was Silvia, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Please don’t hurt her, Jonas.’ Ravenna’s hand twisted in his, her fingers grasping with reassuring strength. The shock of seeing her entering that clinic still reverberated through him.

  ‘Jonas?’ Solemn eyes of old gold fixed on him. ‘I know it was wrong. She had no right to the money. Nor had I.’

  ‘Did you know where it came from?’

  ‘Not till you confronted me in Paris.’ Her quick gesture discarded that as a minor issue. But it wasn’t. Ravenna had been innocent from the first. She’d claimed responsibility only to protect her mother and then she’d worked like a slave to pay off a debt for which she had no responsibility.

  Jonas was torn between admiration for her and deep-seated nausea at what he’d done. He’d used and abused her. He’d taken out his ire on an innocent woman.

  ‘Mamma was desperate. She’d been selling off assets for ages, just to live the way Piers expected. She had no money of her own.’ Ravenna shook her head. ‘Piers had expensive tastes and in the past he’d bought Mamma extravagant gifts, but he’d never spent money on me. I should have known his generosity to me was out of character.’

  ‘You were sick.’ Even now the thought of it smote him a hammer blow to the chest.

  ‘But I should have realised.’ Her mouth firmed. ‘Maybe I didn’t want to think too much about it. Maybe—’ His finger to her warm lips stopped her words.

  ‘Stop beating yourself up.’ He let his hand drop to the table, noting how she slid her hands into her lap, away from him. Who could blame her after what he’d done? ‘You weren’t to blame.’

  Ravenna leaned forward, the subtle, sweet perfume of her skin enticing. ‘You have to understand my mother was desperate. She shouldn’t have stolen from you, but she was convinced I needed time and care to recuperate fully. She was terrified I’d have a relapse.’

  Jonas nodded, his stomach churning in sympathy with Silvia Ruggiero for the first time. He understood her fear too well. He still felt sick from the shock of believing Ravenna ill.

  ‘Please, Jonas. Please be lenient with her.’

  ‘She should have stayed. Not left you to carry her guilt.’ That stuck in his craw.

  Ravenna’s slim fingers closed over his hand, startling him before sliding away. ‘She didn’t. She has no idea you’d discovered the loss. I suppose she hoped the money wouldn’t be missed or you’d write it off as money to your father.’

  ‘So naïve.’ When he started out Jonas had risked every penny to invest then invest again. He never took money for granted, given how he’d worked to acquire it.

  ‘Jonas, what are you going to do to her?’ The fear in Ravenna’s voice brought him up sharply.

  ‘Nothing.’ He watched her exhale on a sigh that left her looking limp. ‘Here, drink this.’ He lifted her wine glass to her lips, waiting till she held it herself and took a sip.

  ‘Nothing? Really?’ She looked dazed. He really had been an ogre. And now he felt about two feet tall. ‘You won’t prosecute?’

  ‘There’ll be no gaol, no prosecution. I’ve had enough of revenge.’ Jonas grimaced on the word, its taste souring his tongue. ‘How could I prosecute a mother for trying to save her daughter?’

  ‘But I would have been all right without the funds.’ It was as if still she didn’t believe him—had to test him.

  Jonas raised his eyebrows. ‘Piers would have looked after you?’

  ‘No. He was unwell by that stage, but no one knew how unwell.’ Ravenna’s eyes dipped to the pristine cloth. ‘I’d have come back to London to work.’ She lifted her head. ‘I’m a chef. I had a promising position before...’ She waved her hand vaguely and Jonas’ anger fired. She’d lost her job when she got sick?

  ‘So you were going to return straight to work after cancer treatment, doing long hours in a commercial kitchen?’ He knew how gruelling that would be. He’d worked as a waiter in his university years. He’d vowed then to make his living the comfortable way—at a desk rather than on his feet doing split shifts till all hours.

  The full brunt of what Ravenna had borne hit him. The illness. The slow convalescence. Dealing with her mother’s financial crisis on top of what must be worry about her own finances and career. Then facing down an irate idiot hell-bent on vengeance. How had she coped?

  He remembered that first day at the Hall, finding her asleep in the middle of the day and assuming she was lazy. His gut twisted as he realised she must have been exhausted.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ravenna.’ The words were too little, too late. ‘What I’ve done to you, what you’ve been through...I had no right to threaten and take out my anger on you. I should never have forced your hand the way I did.’

  ‘You didn’t know.’ She smiled wearily. How much she’d borne. The knowledge shafted home his guilt.

  ‘I should have made it my business to know.’ Instead of jumping in boots and all.

  How could she take it so calmly? He winced, remembering his harsh words and actions. ‘I said things I had no right to.’ Her pain when he’d accused her of being a gold-digging opportunist like her mother! ‘I’m sorry, Ravenna—’

  ‘It’s all right.’ She looked over his shoulder. ‘Here’s our lunch.’

  The waiter didn’t linger but served them swiftly, providing another large cognac for Jonas. He reached for it, wanting that quick burn of fine brandy in his throat, then stopped. His father had always avoided the consequences of his actions and responsibilities. His mother had escaped reality in her own world of gin-fuelled disappointment.

  Jonas put the glass aside.

  ‘It’s not all right, Ravenna.’ It was all wrong, in so many ways.

  ‘It is if you’re not going to make Silvia pay.’ She paused as if waiting for him to confirm it.

  ‘Forget the money. There is no debt.’ He breathed hard, still grappling with the knot of self-disgust in his belly. ‘It was put to
good use.’

  Her eyes flashed pure gold and Jonas’ breathing hitched. ‘Thank you, Jonas.’

  ‘Stop being so gracious!’

  Her eyebrows arched. ‘You’d prefer if I made a scene?’

  ‘You think I’m being melodramatic?’ Was any woman so infuriating?

  Ravenna smiled and something fizzed in his veins. ‘We were both at fault. We both jumped to conclusions and said things we regret. Can’t we wipe the slate clean?’ Her stomach growled. ‘Especially as I’m starving. I was too anxious to eat this morning.’

  ‘Then eat.’ He gestured to her plate.

  ‘And we’re all sorted?’ Her gaze searched his face.

  ‘Absolutely.’ What else could he say? She didn’t want his apologies. He felt...frustrated.

  ‘Thank you, Jonas. That’s very generous. My mother will appreciate it as much as I do when she hears.’

  He didn’t care what Silva thought. It was Ravenna who concerned him.

  ‘You’ll want to leave Deveson Hall.’ The thought struck abruptly as she lifted her fork to her mouth.

  She took her time chewing. ‘You want me to leave straight away?’

  ‘No!’ The word shot out with more force than necessary. He didn’t want her gone. Not yet. ‘I’d like it if you stayed on. Not to work,’ he assured her quickly. ‘But for the ball. You’ve worked too hard to get the place ready. It would be a shame to miss it. If you want to stay on.’

  Ravenna kept her eyes on her plate. What was she thinking? Tension crawled down Jonas’ spine, one vertebra at a time.

  He was working on blind instinct. He had no plan in the aftermath of the truths that had rocked his complacent world. He only knew he’d feel bereft if she left now. He needed time to adjust. Time to replace her, his sensible self reasoned.

  ‘Thank you.’ Still she didn’t look up. It was as if, having his promise that the theft had been written off, she didn’t want to connect with him. ‘I’ve never been to a ball and I’d love to see the Hall with the renovations complete. I’ll stay till then.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SHE SHOULD NEVER have agreed to stay. She should have left the same day. But the shock of her sudden freedom hadn’t been as welcome as she’d expected.

  Ravenna strode up the staircase as if expending energy could erase the dreadful weakness she harboured.

  Despite Jonas’ assurances that she didn’t have to, she’d put long hours into getting the Hall ready. But they’d done nothing to extinguish what she felt for him. If anything her feelings were stronger since his apology and the sight of his horror when he realised she’d been innocent.

  Jonas was essentially a decent man despite his plot to make her pay for the stolen funds. And who could blame him for that? His prejudice against Piers and Silvia was understandable, and to have Mamma then steal from him... Ravenna guessed it had been the final straw.

  She walked along the corridor, checking all was in order. It was easier to focus on the busy work of housekeeping than think of the future. The ball was tomorrow and then she’d leave. She had no reason to stay.

  Except she didn’t want to leave Jonas.

  Ravenna blinked at an arrangement of roses gracing a hall table. Reaching out to a velvety red petal, she was reminded of Jonas’ touch, exquisitely tender as he brushed his fingers over her naked body, his gaze luminous as he’d watched her shiver with delight under his ministrations.

  Sharply she sucked in her breath. This couldn’t go on.

  There was no future for them. She’d gone from being the enemy to a reminder of an episode he’d rather forget. She saw the shadow of guilt in his face whenever he looked at her.

  Ravenna pushed open the door to her bedroom then halted as she saw the flat box on the counterpane. Only one person could have left it there.

  Her heart seized then leapt to a gallop, gaze riveted on the distinctive embossed name on the box. Every woman in the western world knew that name. It belonged to one of the grandest Parisian couture houses, one whose young chief designer had taken the world of fashion by storm.

  Ravenna’s hands trembled as she moved closer, lifting the lid to pull back layer after layer of finest tissue.

  Her throat closed. The dress was a delicate filigree of bronze shot with blue and amethyst as the light caught it. Ravenna had never seen anything so ravishingly beautiful in her life. She lifted it out—full length, with a wide skirt and tiny, jewelled shoulder straps, it was a modern Cinderella fantasy. Wearing this would make any woman feel special.

  Twirling, she hugged it close and surveyed herself in the long glass. The woman staring back didn’t look like Ravenna Ruggiero. She was a princess. The belle of the ball.

  Except she was Ravenna Ruggiero. She’d never be the belle of any ball, especially Jonas Deveson’s. Pain tugged her insides and her fingers crushed the sumptuous fabric.

  The dress was a generous, extravagant gesture, borne of guilt and shame. Jonas wanted to put the past behind him and tried to make it up to her like this. He thought an expensive dress for his expensive party would make everything okay.

  The gift was the embodiment of his guilt. He’d been too gracious to insist she leave immediately. But every time he looked at her in this gown he’d be reminded how he’d treated her.

  And she’d remember he thought to buy her forgiveness.

  She stiffened, her hands dropping.

  That was what rich men did, didn’t they? Bought what they wanted? It was what Piers had done with Mamma. Her mother had fallen for Piers hook, line and sinker and in his own way he’d fallen for her. But he’d begun by lavishing outrageously expensive gifts on her, blinding her with his generosity, because that was how the system worked.

  Rich men married rich women. They only offered poor women expensive treats in return for—

  No! That was not what Jonas was doing. He didn’t want her in his bed.

  But he did want her silence, her forgiveness, a sense of closure over what had happened between them.

  The dress dropped from Ravenna’s numb fingers and she turned from the mirror. She wasn’t for sale. Just touching the dress brought his earlier accusations about her selling herself rushing back.

  She didn’t need Jonas’ gift. Gorgeous as it was, she’d feel worse for accepting it, as if she’d let herself down. Besides, did she want this stunning gown hanging in her meagre wardrobe? It would be a constant reminder of a time, and feelings, she needed to forget.

  Swiftly she scooped up the froth of fabric and tucked it back into its box.

  * * *

  ‘It’s delightful, Jonas. You’ve done a marvellous job restoring Deveson Hall.’ Helena smiled up at him, her china-blue eyes bright with approval and her perfectly sculpted lips curving in an enchanting smile.

  He held her close but not too close as they danced. The ballroom glittered as the antique mirrors down one wall reflected the brilliant chandeliers, opulent gowns and lavish jewellery.

  Over Helena’s shoulder he saw Vivien dancing with a cabinet minister, while the local vet stood in earnest conversation with a sheikh in pristine white robes and a minor royal, no doubt discussing horses, given all three were passionate about them.

  Everyone was enjoying themselves. He alone was dogged by a sense of anti-climax.

  ‘Thank you, Helena. I’m glad you approve.’ He smiled and pulled her a little closer.

  This was the woman he planned to marry. Why couldn’t he feel more enthusiasm? The Hall was just as he’d hoped, better, even. Nothing stood in the way of him reaching out and making his dream a reality.

  Helena’s eyes were as bright as the platinum-set sapphires at her throat. She was interested, expectant. He sensed it with the instinct borne of experience.

  ‘What are your plans, Jonas, now you’ve completed wo
rk on the Hall?’ Her voice was warm and appealing. She was intelligent, generous, good company.

  And holding her in his arms he might have been waltzing with an aged great-aunt. Where was the spark of attraction he’d once felt?

  ‘Plans?’

  She tilted her head to regard him better and he inhaled the subtle designer perfume she favoured. It was like her—elegant, appealing—just right.

  Except she wasn’t. Not tonight. Something had changed.

  ‘Now you’ve finished will you move in full time? Commute from here to the city? Perhaps allow the public in for viewings?’ Her smile made light of the question, but he read her anticipation.

  It was a perfect opportunity to talk of the future, their future. Except looking down at her he felt none of the satisfaction he’d felt before.

  ‘I’m not sure yet.’ Where those words came from he had no idea. ‘But, yes, I’m considering opening the gardens once they’re established. I’ve had heritage and horticultural groups already badgering me about open days. Apparently my designer has done something quite special with the grounds.’

  ‘They look marvellous already.’ Helena took his lead, chatting about landscaping. Only the puzzled expression in her eyes hinted she’d expected something else. Jonas was grateful she was intelligent enough not to press.

  For suddenly, on the brink of achieving his long-held goals, he found himself hesitating.

  The music ended and they pulled apart. ‘Let me get you a drink.’ He took her arm and led her through the throng to the end of the room where drinks were being served.

  At the vast double doors more people were clustered, mainly men, their dark formal clothes contrasting with the slim form of a woman in a dress of soft, buttery gold.

  Jonas stiffened, every sense alert as she nodded and half turned. No wonder half the men in the place where there. Ravenna’s smile was enough to stop any man in his tracks.