'Good heavens!' Her eyes widened with the knowledge, then clouded as patches of memory rose to the surface. 'You played nursemaid.' It was a statement that needed no verification, and a delicate pink crept into her cheeks. She wanted to declare aloud that she couldn't see him in that role, but the words remained unsaid. Jake Stanton was capable of anything, and answerable to no one for any of his actions. She supposed she should be grateful. 'Thank you.'
'So politely spoken,' he acknowledged with an edge of mockery. 'If there's nothing you want or need, I suggest you switch off the light and go back to sleep. In case you hadn't noticed, it's the middle of the night.'
A need to use the bathroom surfaced, and while there Stephanie washed her face and cleaned her teeth.
Back in her room she surveyed his prone form and the words tumbled out without much coherence. 'I'm all right now. There's no need for you to stay.'
'Pretend I'm not here, there's a good girl, hmm?'
'I insist you leave,' she said shakily, her eyes becoming large in a face pale from the aftermath of her illness. 'Please.'
'I don't sleepwalk,' Jake drawled gently. 'And your virtue was never in safer hands.'
'That might be,' she conceded hollowly, slipping into bed, but just knowing he was there would preclude relaxation. As for sleep—impossible! 'Please, Jake.' Even to her own ears, her voice seemed cracked with distress, and to her utter chagrin her eyes filled with tears.
His husky oath was barely audible, but nonetheless harsh. 'Stephanie—for the love of heaven, stop it!' He slipped back the covers and reached for his robe at the bottom of the bed, shrugged it on, then stood to his feet and belted the ties.
In two strides he was looming over her, tall and infinitely forbidding, and she didn't seem capable of uttering so much as a word.
'I'll sleep in the room next to this one,' he declared hardily. 'With both doors left open.'
She could only nod, her eyes wide and luminous, and with a strangely gentle movement he leant forward and brushed his lips against her forehead.
'Barely warm,' he murmured, giving a slight smile. 'I believe the worst is over.'
Stephanie didn't say a word. For some strange reason she wanted to lift her arms and link them together behind his neck, then draw his head down to hers. There was an elemental danger in harbouring such thoughts, yet even as she attempted to dismiss them his mouth slid down, closing each eyelid in turn, then she felt his lips trace a dangerously evocative path as they erased her tears.
She wanted to protest, but the will to offer any resistance deserted her, and as his mouth closed over hers she simply parted her lips as if to do so was the most natural thing in the world.
It could have been mere seconds, or several minutes later that Jake lifted his head and placed a finger gently to her lips.
'Now off to sleep, hmm? I'll see you in the morning.'
Stephanie watched as he left the room, feeling a deep longing ache somewhere in the pit of her stomach. It was madness, she decided shakily—an illusion brought on by her obviously weakened state, a combination of medication and the witching midnight hour. To imagine anything else demanded more than she could mentally cope with, and feeling suddenly tired she leant out and switched off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
Over the following few days Stephanie showed a steady improvement, and was permitted downstairs for the first time on Sunday.
Mrs Anderson had prepared sufficient soup to last the entire weekend, as well as several appetising dishes with which to tempt Stephanie's palate. As for Jake, he had proved a watchful if faintly aloof guardian, insisting upon limiting her physical exertions to an essential few, supervising the food she ate and the amount of rest he considered desirable to her convalescence.
No mention had been made in connection with the circumstances surrounding her flight from the hotel lounge, although as her strength returned so did a measure of resentment. With time on her hands she began to brood, her mind becoming increasingly active with thoughts of the enigmatic man who had become so much a part of her life. Two weeks seemed an age, yet what could she possibly hope to achieve in so short a time? And there was Alana. Jake might not want her, but there could be little doubt his beautiful ex-wife wanted him.
Jim Matheson had written once, and phoned twice in the space of the past week, and it was obvious from his exuberance that the lecture tour was a huge success. By tacit agreement with Jake, Stephanie refrained from mentioning her lapse in health and was able to reassure him that the clinic was running smoothly with no unforeseen problems.
Sunday afternoon was a typical midwinter's day, the cold air whipped by a fierce wind that howled round the corners of the stone house and whistled against the eaves and chimneypots. Every now and then rain lashed against the windowpanes in intermittent showers.
From her curled-up position on one of the capacious recliner chairs, in the lounge Stephanie cast the outside elements a rueful glance, then scanned the television programme for something inspiring to view.
The phone rang, and she was about to answer it when the sound was cut off mid-peal. Jake, she concluded, had picked it up from the study.
Karen had visited yesterday, spending most of the afternoon, and various other friends had rung during the past few days. Only Ian had maintained silence, and for that she was grateful. Strange that they now appeared to have so little in common—if in fact they ever had, she pursued sombrely. It chilled her to think the young man she thought he was, the essential character, didn't really exist, which surely proved just how superficial their friendship had been. Two weeks ago, if anyone had suggested Ian could behave in such a fashion, she would have laughed and dismissed it as ridiculous.
'I have to go out to the Robertsons' farm,' Jake declared from the doorway. Their prize heifer is showing all the symptoms of a difficult calving.' He lifted a hand and thrust it through his hair, ruffling it into attractive disarray. 'I'll get back when I can.'
Attired in faded levi's with a dark blue vee-necked sweater stretched over broad shoulders, he looked ruggedly attractive and his appearance set up a familiar increase in her pulse-beat, making her unusually cross.
'At least you can get out of the house,' she declared with a trace of petulance.
'If that little barb is meant to evoke sympathy— forget it.'
Indignation rose to the fore. 'I don't want your sympathy!'
'I declare you're almost back to normal,' he drawled.
'If you mean I'm tired of being cossetted, you're darn right. In fact,' she declared, 'I'm coming back to the clinic tomorrow.'
'You're not,' Jake told her unequivocably. Thursday is the soonest I'll consider it.'
'Thursday!' she choked in disbelief. 'You have to be joking!'
'Not at all.' He moved into the room and came to stand in front of her.
'If you say one word about how ill I've been, I'll—'
'What?' he queried imperturbably, amusement lurking in the depths of his eyes.
'Scream,' she snapped furiously, and he laughed.
'Poor Stephanie,' he mocked, leaning down towards her. 'Mrs Anderson has left every imaginable delicacy prepared to tempt your appetite. There are enough books and magazines available to satisfy the most dedicated reader. A sophisticated electronic recording system and a veritable library of taped cassettes.' His shoulders lifted in an indolent shrug. 'Music, television. What more do you want to keep you amused?'
She could have hit him, in fact she seriously considered it, except she wasn't sure she could cope with the consequences. So she settled for simply glaring at him instead.
He watched each and every fleeting emotion as it mirrored itself in her eyes, then a husky chuckle sounded deep in his throat as he bent low and bestowed a lingering kiss to her softly parted lips.
'You'll catch my cold,' Stephanie murmured in protest, and he straightened, his dark eyes agleam with devilish humour.
'Then you can take a turn at playing nursemaid.'
She felt her eyes widen fractionally, then she masked their expression. 'You wouldn't let me.'
'Would you want to?'
Unsure whether he was serious, or simply baiting her, she responded lightly, 'Men make terrible patients—doctors worst of all. I'm quite sure a vet would be totally unmanageable.'
'Me, especially, eh?'
She tilted her head, proffering him a sweet smite. 'I'm sure of it. I'd request Dr Reynolds to prescribe vast quantities of medicine, then personally ensure you swallowed every drop.'
'And when I'd recovered sufficiently to retaliate?'
Even imagining him in bed brought forth a latent longing she was powerless to suppress. 'I'd love to pursue this conversation—really,' she assured him with seeming solemnity. 'However, I don't think Mr Robertson will appreciate a stillborn calf, do you?'
His sloping grin did strange things to her equilibrium, and she watched as he turned and left the room. Within seconds she heard the front door close, then the powerful roar of the Land Rover as it reversed out from the garage and sped down the driveway.
It was five hours before he returned, and Stephanie had already eaten. She heard him enter the house and go straight upstairs to shower and change, and by the time he came into the kitchen she had his meal on the table.
One glance at the weary set of his shoulders was enough to tell her that all had not gone well. 'Shall I get you a drink?'
Jake gave a wry grimace as he slid out a chair and sat down. 'I need one, but now not. I may have to go out again.'
'That bad?' she queried, and received a faint smile.
'A prolonged birth, but mother and one calf are fine. The same can't be said for its twin. The next few hours are crucial, and Robertson will phone if there's a change for the worse.'
Stephanie eyed him keenly. 'What's your opinion?'
He picked up cutlery and began eating. 'A fifty-fifty chance of survival.'
At that moment the phone rang, and she sped to answer it offering a fervent prayer it wouldn't be Mr Robertson with bad news. On hearing Alana's seductively husky voice she said simply, 'Yes, he's here,' then held out the receiver.
Jake took it from her, and within seconds his features hardened.
Wanting to be anywhere else but in the position of eavesdropper, Stephanie stepped past him with the intention of leaving the room and came to an abrupt halt as a hand closed over her arm. Her eyes flew to his, her surprise evident at his action, and she almost died at the degree of pitiless resolve tightening his expression.
'In the name of heaven, Alana,' he declared hardly, 'get the hell off my back, otherwise I'll be forced to have a restraining order placed on you!'
The receiver was slammed down with considerable force, and Stephanie winced.
'If you don't loosen your grip, I'm likely to be nursing a broken arm!'
She rubbed the offended limb as he returned to the table and resumed eating. He offered no apology or explanation, and with a mental shrug she turned back to extract a portion of apricot crumble that had been warming in the oven. There was whipped cream to go with it, and she crossed to the refrigerator to extract the small bowl.
Jake had just spooned the last of his dessert when the phone rang again.
'I'll get it,' he said tersely, rising to his feet, and after a few curt directives into the receiver he replaced it. 'Robertson. It's as I feared, I'm afraid. I'll have to go out.'
Stephanie merely nodded, knowing his mind was preoccupied, and as he strode from the room she began clearing the table.
An hour later just as she was on the point of going upstairs to bed the headlights of a vehicle swept an illuminating arc through the glass panel beside the front door, chasing the shadows in a rapidly changing pattern as it drew steadily closer.
Expecting the lights to swerve into the garage, she experienced a mixture of curiosity and concern when they stopped right outside the main entrance, then were doused, and within seconds a knock sounded on the front door.
Exerting caution, she slipped the security chain in place before answering, and there was no way she could hide the shock of seeing Alana standing there.
'May I come in?'
Damn, Stephanie cursed inwardly. What should she do? 'It's rather late for a social call,' she began tentatively. 'In any case, Jake isn't here.'
'He shouldn't be long, surely?' the glamorous redhead said with a winsome smile. 'I'll wait until he comes back.'
At that moment the powerful lights of the Land Rover came into view, and Stephanie breathed a sigh of relief. Jake was infinitely more capable of dealing with his errant ex-wife than she could ever be. Quite frankly, the ultra-sophisticated Alana deflated her composure, making her feel inadequate and very young. Perhaps, she conceded wryly, by comparison she was—in terms of worldly experience, Alana was light years ahead.
The Land Rover pulled into the garage, and less than a minute later Jake's tall frame loomed into view. It was impossible for him not to recognise Alana, but if he was surprised he gave no sign. His expression was an enigmatic mask, yet Stephanie glimpsed the tired lines spreading from the corners of his eyes, the imperceptible weary set of his shoulders.
In seeming slow motion she watched him enter the foyer, followed closely by Alana, and as he turned towards her she lifted her hand in an impotent, gesture, then murmured something inane and totally irrelevant. They resembled three players on a stage, about to be manipulated by a master script, except that she had no knowledge of the lines. The silence seemed to grow and echo, until in desperation she invented an excuse to escape.
'Don't go, darling,' Jake began silkily, and with two lithe strides he moved to stand at her side, his smile so infinitely warm and intimate it was all she could do not to reel back with shock, and she stood immobilised as his arm curved over her shoulders. 'I think now is as good a time as any to announce our plans, don't you?'
'Plans?' Alana queried delicately, her finely pencilled brows narrowing slightly, and it was no small feat that Stephanie managed not to echo that monosyllabic query.
'Marriage.'
She didn't know who was more surprised. Her mouth opened, then closed, rather like a gasping fish, she decided with a touch of hysteria.
'If this is your idea of a joke, I'm not amused!' Alana snapped, her eyes becoming glittery with anger.
'You should know me well enough to realise I wouldn't joke about making such a serious commitment,' Jake drawled, his eyes narrowing as Alana shifted her gaze towards Stephanie and subjected her to a swift raking scrutiny—rather like a superior feline assessing and dismissing an insignificant fieldmouse, Stephanie decided wildly.
'You can't be serious?'
Stephanie could hardly blame Alana for voicing incredulity. She herself was stunned into virtual speechlessness!
'Do you doubt me?' Jake drawled with all the deadly softness of a preying jungle beast. He had to pounce—it was all part of the game.
'You can only have known her a matter of weeks,' Alana began, and he corrected smoothly, 'Two, to be precise—almost to the day.'
Alana's brows rose, slightly arching in calculated disbelief. 'Hardly long enough, would you say, darling?'
He regarded her solemnly for what seemed an age, then he ventured quietly, 'Stephanie has all the qualities a man most admires in a woman.'
Alana's expression became shrewdly speculative. 'Oh yes,' she acceded with apparent kindness, although no one could doubt the thinly-veiled mockery evident. 'And such a help, being a vet's daughter. I never was much good at anything vaguely to do with domesticity, was I, darling?' she purred, sending him a blatant glance from beneath her long thick-fringed lashes. 'But then you always seemed to prefer me in the bedroom to anywhere else.'
'I admit you could, to put it bluntly, turn a pretty trick,' Jake drawled, his eyes hooded, and Stephanie made an instinctive movement to escape which was instantly stilled. 'However, physical lust eventually palls when unaccompanied by fidelity.'
'Noble, if a m
ite outmoded,' Alana remarked with a slight provocative smile. 'These are the eighties, darling.'
'We should never have married. An affair would have been infinitely more preferable,' he opined with sardonic cynicism, and the woman laughed.
'Oh, come, we had a good year or two, surely? I can remember a time when you were totally besotted.'
'It isn't possible to relive the past, Alana,' he said mockingly. His arm tightened on Stephanie's shoulders, then he leaned down and brushed his lips against her temple. 'I've found the girl with whom I'd like to spend the rest of my life.'
If she just stood perfectly still, kept her eyes lowered, and could contain her rapidly rising anger, surely this—this charade would eventually come to an end, Stephanie decided blindly.
Some of her inner tension must have transmitted itself, for he trailed his lips down to her mouth and covered it with his own, then he lifted his head and gave Alana a sardonic smile. 'I'm sure it must be painfully obvious that your presence is superfluous?'
'I'll go,' Alana said tightly, her eyes alive with bitter enmity. 'But don't imagine you've heard the last of me.'
Jake's expression hardened into a cruel mask. 'Should I take that as a threat?' he demanded silkily, and Alana looked as if she was ready to strike him.
'I don't like losing.'
'How can you lose something you never really had?'
The ensuing silence was such that Stephanie was almost afraid to breathe, and she watched in mesmerised fascination as Alana turned and swept towards the door. Seconds later it slammed with resounding force, and was closely followed by an engine revving powerfully to life, then the car was driven away at breakneck speed to pause with a squeal of brakes as Alana negotiated the turn at the end of the long driveway.
With considerable care Stephanie extricated herself from his grasp and slowly turned to face him. Steeling herself to be calm, she lifted her chin and met his enigmatic gaze. 'Perhaps you'd care to explain?'
He regarded her in silence for what seemed an age, then he lifted a hand to his hair to rake his fingers through its thickness before letting his arm fall to his side. 'Damn it, I'd reached the end of my tether!' he vented with an emotive growl.
Sweet Tempest Page 10
