Passionate Protectors?

by Anne Mather

  Ash had gone, and all traces of the night they’d spent together had been removed.

  Expertly removed, Chellie thought with sudden bitterness. But why was she surprised? After all, if you were sleeping with the daughter of the house it was bad policy to enjoy another girl in her absence, especially when loyal family retainers were involved.

  Ash clearly knew how to cover his tracks—maybe not for the first time.

  And if some secret corner of her heart had hoped for a miracle—had prayed that the splendour of passion they had shared might lead to some kind of commitment on his part—then she knew better now.

  She sat up slowly, holding the covering sheet to her breasts. ‘Thank you, Rosalie.’

  ‘And Mr Ash called. He has a seat for you on the noon flight to Grenada.’

  Chellie nearly spilled her coffee all over the bed. ‘He called?’ she repeated incredulously. ‘When?’

  ‘Half an hour ago, mam’selle. He also say a car will be sent for you at eleven.’

  ‘I see.’ Her mouth was dry. ‘Was—was there any other message?’ she managed.

  ‘No, mam’selle,’ Rosalie assured her cheerfully. ‘Shall I run your bath?’

  ‘No—no, thank you.’ Chellie forced a smile. ‘I can manage.’

  So, she thought drearily when she was alone. Last night was then, this is now, and what worlds apart they are.

  But then what had she expected? She’d appealed to him on a strictly sexual level and he’d taken her. That had been the deal, and it was much too late for regrets.

  She stretched, feeling the voluptuous ache in her body, the singing of her pulses. She might be on the floor emotionally, but physically she felt wonderful.

  Ash had taught her to be a woman, she thought, and she would always be grateful to him for that. But she had also learned to feel with a woman’s heart, and she would never be free again.

  She didn’t want the coffee, but she needed the boost of caffeine it offered to clear her head and get her moving. After all, she had packing to do. It was time for her, too, to pretend she had never been here.

  As promised, Rosalie had washed and pressed the linen dress, and it was hanging on the wardrobe door. But she wasn’t going to wear it, or anything else that belonged to Julie. The thought was unbearable.

  She would make do with the handful of her own stuff that she’d brought, and buy herself a change of underwear on Grenada for the journey home. Everything else could stay behind.

  Except for the dress Ash had bought her, she thought with a pang. She would take that with her—as a salutary reminder of the gulf that existed between sex and love. And a warning never to allow herself to confuse them again.

  I don’t want to wake up and find the bed beside me empty ever again, she thought, as she pushed back the sheet and swung her legs to the floor. And if that means spending the rest of my life alone, so be it. I’ve been alone before.

  Brave words, but she knew that it would never be as easy as that. Because it would not just be a dress that she would take with her. Ash would go too—the sound of his voice, the unique male scent of him, the taste of his mouth and the controlled drive of his body, taking her to rapture and beyond.

  Potent memories, she thought, and also completely inescapable. Something she would have to learn to live with.

  She showered, and dressed in her denim skirt and tee shirt. Full circle, she thought, as she set about re-packing her bag.

  There was pitifully little to go in it, she mused, frowningly, and then realised why. The black dress she’d worn last night was unaccountably missing.

  She hunted through the wardrobe, and even searched under the bed, but there was no sign of it.

  Oh, hell, she thought, biting her lip. Rosalie’s probably pounced on it for laundering. What on earth will she make of the G-string? At least I won’t be around to find out, she added with a mental shrug.

  The last remaining item was the precious passport, which was still downstairs on the sitting room table.

  She picked up her bag, gave the room a last, lingering look, then went downstairs.

  Rosalie met her in the hall. ‘Mr Ash is here,’ she announced, sending Chellie’s heart into painful free-fall. ‘Out on the verandah. I’m making him scrambled eggs. You want some too?’

  ‘No—no, thanks. I’m not hungry.’

  Rosalie sent her a disparaging glance. ‘You’re too thin, mam’selle. Should eat more.’

  ‘Ah.’ Chellie tried to keep her voice light. ‘Someone once said you could never be too rich or too thin. One out of two isn’t bad.’

  Rosalie snorted and went back to the kitchen, leaving Chellie to make her reluctant way into the sitting room. If she hadn’t needed to collect her passport she’d have been tempted to bolt back upstairs again. Even so, if she was quick and quiet…

  ‘Good morning.’ The verandah doors were wide open and he was standing there, dark against the brilliance of the sunlight.

  Her hopes of evasion dashed, Chellie lifted her chin, trying to ignore the jolt to her senses. ‘Oh, hi.’ She attempted a casual note. ‘I got your message. I wasn’t expecting to see you.’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting to be here,’ he returned. ‘But there’s been a change of plan. I’ve found out there’s an earlier plane. If we leave straight after breakfast, you can catch it.’

  She picked up her passport and stowed it in her bag, aware that her hands were trembling.

  ‘I see.’ She forced a smile. ‘You—you really can’t wait to be rid of me, can you?’

  ‘I’ve booked you a room at the Oceanside Club,’ he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘And I’ll join you there as soon as I can. There are issues here that I have to deal with first.’

  ‘Issues?’ Chellie repeated slowly. She had a sudden graphic image of Julie, with her bright smile dimmed, her eyes blurred with tears. ‘Is that how you describe hurting people—messing with their emotions?’

  His brows lifted. ‘I wasn’t aware that there was much emotion involved,’ he said drily. ‘But I’m prepared to stand corrected.’ He paused. ‘Whatever—I think it’s better if you’re away from here while I sort things out,’ he added levelly. ‘You’ll just have to trust me on this.’

  ‘Ash,’ she said. ‘We can’t do this. We agreed that last night was all there could ever be, and nothing’s changed.’

  ‘You don’t think so?’ He shook his head. ‘You’re wrong, Chellie. Last night only proved what I’ve always known—that we belong together.’ He came further into the room. ‘Darling, I won’t let you go.’ His voice deepened. ‘I can’t. And I’ll do whatever it takes to give us the freedom to be together.’ He came to her, taking her hands in his. ‘I thought you’d want that too? Am I wrong?’

  ‘No.’ Chellie’s voice was wretched. ‘I do want it. Oh, so much. But I know that you can’t build happiness on the ruins of someone else’s life.’

  He stared at her. ‘Chellie—you can’t honestly believe that applies to us.’

  She looked down at the floor. ‘I think it could.’ She jumped as the front doorbell pealed imperatively. ‘I—I suppose that’s my lift to the airport.’

  Ash frowned. ‘No, I’m your lift. And I wasn’t expecting visitors,’ he added with a touch of grimness as Cornelius went past the sitting room to answer the door. ‘At least, not yet.’

  ‘I’m here to see Miss Greer.’ A man’s voice, loud and slightly hectoring, filled the hall. ‘Take me to her, please.’

  Chellie’s lips parted in a gasp of shock. ‘My God,’ she breathed. ‘It’s Jeffrey—Jeffrey Chilham. But how can it be? It’s impossible.’

  Cornelius was murmuring something in reply, but the caller responded with a snort.

  ‘That’s nonsense, my good man. I know quite well she’s here. And that Brennan fellow too, I’ve no doubt. Kindly let me pass.’

  Ash’s hands gripped hers more tightly. ‘Who the hell is this?’ His voice was urgent.

  Chellie shook her head helplessl
y. ‘He works for my father.’

  ‘Dear God.’ Ash’s mouth tightened harshly. ‘So he couldn’t even come in person.’

  She stared at him. ‘What are you talking about?’

  He said wearily, ‘I think you’re about to find out.’

  The next minute, Jeffrey Chilham was filling the doorway. He was a tall man, with greying hair and a red face that heat and irritation had rendered brick-coloured.

  The khaki shorts he was wearing with a multi-coloured shirt did him no favours at all, and he was fanning himself vigorously with a Panama hat.

  ‘Michelle,’ he exclaimed. ‘My dear girl. Thank heavens you’re safe.’ He stared at her, his lips pursed in disapproval. ‘But your hair looks terrible. What have you done to it?’

  ‘It was cut.’ Chellie faced him unsmilingly. ‘Jeffrey, what are you doing here?’

  ‘My dear, do you really need to ask?’ His chest swelled importantly. ‘I’ve come to take you home, of course. Although I don’t recommend presenting yourself to your father looking as you do,’ he added, frowning. ‘Perhaps while your hair is growing again you should wear a wig.’

  ‘I did,’ she said. ‘It didn’t suit me.’ She realised that she suddenly felt cold. She was still gripping Ash’s hand, and quietly detached herself. ‘And how exactly did you know how to find me?’

  ‘Well, naturally we have Brennan here to thank for that.’ He gave Ash a condescending nod. ‘Sir Clive is naturally grateful for your efforts in rescuing Miss Greer, my man, but he is not pleased that you ignored his explicit instructions to bring her back to England. Sending me halfway across the world has cost him time and money, and he has informed your company that he intends to negotiate a reduction in your fee as a result.’

  His words fell into a silence that was as deep as an ocean.

  Chellie found herself suddenly struggling for breath. When she could move, she swung round and stared at Ash, who was standing stony-faced, his arms folded across his chest.

  ‘Is it true?’ she asked huskily. ‘What he’s saying? Did you know who I was all along?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I knew.’ His voice was expressionless. ‘You’d been tracked to Santo Martino by other operatives, then the trail went cold and I came to find you myself.’

  ‘Paid—by my father?’ The muscles in her throat were taut with pain and she felt physically sick. ‘He—hired you?’

  Jeffrey Chilham laughed. ‘Of course, my dear. Mr Brennan and his partner are businessmen. They run a specialist security organisation. Personal protection, tracing missing persons, negotiating over hostages—that kind of thing. ‘Mr Brennan signed a highly-paid contract with us. Or did you think he did it for love?’

  ‘No,’ Chellie said quietly. ‘I never thought that.’ She wrapped her arms round her body, trying to control the violent internal shivering assailing her. She turned back to Ash, still standing rigidly beside her. ‘Well, no one can say that you don’t earn your money,’ she added with icy scorn. ‘Does everyone get your particular brand of personal service—or is there an extra charge?’

  Ash winced, his mouth tightening. He said, ‘Chellie—listen to me. I was going to tell you. To explain. I swear it. I thought—I hoped we’d have more time.’

  ‘We had time on the boat,’ she said. ‘How long does it take to tell me I’ve been sold out?’

  ‘It wasn’t that simple,’ he said. ‘Not at first. Because I believed you were just another assignment, and a tricky one at that. ‘And I’d been enjoined to secrecy by your father. It was part of the deal. He claimed that you were stubborn, and wilful, and might refuse to go with me or even run away again if you knew the truth.’

  Chellie drew an angry, shaking breath. ‘Well, he was right about that.’

  ‘But I realised almost at once that you didn’t want to be returned to him,’ Ash went on. ‘You barely mentioned him, so it was clear there was no love lost between you. Everything you said was about making a new life for yourself—finding some kind of independence. And I could understand why. I only met your father once, and it seemed even then that he was more angry than anxious about you. He spoke about you as if you were a parcel that had gone astray.’

  He paused. ‘He also implied that this wasn’t the first time you’d got into a mess. That you were some wild child who’d never done a day’s work in her life and slept her way round London, but that Ramon was a scandal too far and he wanted it dealt with quietly and confidentially.’

  Chellie caught her breath. ‘Oh, God. And you—believed him?’

  ‘He was paying me to find you, Chellie, not to make moral judgements. And I’d seen the newspaper file on you. It seemed to confirm his story.’

  He threw his head back. ‘But then I met you,’ he added flatly. ‘And I began to wonder. Because you were a million miles from the cold-hearted, extravagant little tart that he’d described. You were brave and vulnerable, sexy and scared all at the same time. And so innocent you almost broke my heart.

  ‘So that’s why I refused to take you to London. I wanted to see your father out of his usual territory—watch how he behaved towards you and then take the appropriate action.’ He shook his head. ‘I still can’t believe he hasn’t come in person.’

  ‘Sir Clive is a very busy man,’ Jeffrey Chilham put in, his voice shocked. ‘And it isn’t as if Michelle has been hurt in any way—or locked up and held to ransom. Naturally, under those circumstances, he would have rushed to her side.’ He looked uncomfortable. ‘But there’s been no real harm done. She—she just made an unfortunate choice of man, that’s all.’

  ‘I seem to make a habit of it,’ Chellie said bitterly. She turned back to Ash. ‘So why were you trying to hustle me off to Grenada? Did you plan to hide me so that you could extort some more money from my loving father?’ She paused. ‘I wonder what my actual market value is? I’ll have to remember to ask him.’

  Ash moved quickly, almost violently, and took her by the shoulders. ‘You know that isn’t true.’ His voice was low and tense. The blue eyes burned into hers. ‘I wasn’t going to hand you back against your will to someone who didn’t care about you. That’s the truth. You must believe me.’

  ‘Why should I?’ Chellie lifted her chin defiantly. ‘When you’ve lied to me from the first moment I saw you.’ Her derisive laugh cracked in the middle. ‘Someone to watch over me? God, what a joke.’

  She shook her head. ‘And I made it so easy for you, didn’t I—the rich man’s stupid daughter? You provided the bait, and I practically dragged you into bed. Why, Ash? Did you decide that your present girlfriend’s father had less to offer than mine?’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Ash said roughly. ‘I have no girlfriend.’ His mouth twisted as he looked down at her. ‘Although I did think I had a lover.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘You had a dupe. A blind, trusting dupe. But my eyes are open now, so you’d better revert to Plan A and go on courting the owner’s daughter. I hope she finds out what you’re really like before the walk down the aisle.’

  ‘The owner’s daughter?’ His voice sparked with incredulity. ‘Are you crazy?’

  ‘I was,’ she said. ‘But not any more. And please take your hands off me.’

  ‘Michelle!’ Jeffrey Chilham’s voice was sharp. ‘I’m trying to be patient here, but do I infer that you’ve had some kind of relationship with this man?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘No relationship. He took me to bed last night, that’s all. I suppose he viewed it as an unofficial bonus.’

  Ash released her and took a step back. He said courteously, ‘No, I thought it was a foretaste of heaven.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Chellie, my love, you have to listen to me, please. Because you’ve got things so terribly wrong.’ His voice was gentle, almost pleading. ‘You have every right to be angry, but I never meant you to find out like this. I thought Grenada would give us a breathing space. Give me time to explain properly.’

  ‘Explain? Or invent another tis
sue of lies? Thank God I was spared that, at least,’ she added with contempt.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘So that I could tell you everything and we could start again, with no secrets—all our cards on the table.’

  She said slowly, ‘Do you know—if this wasn’t so hideous, it would almost be funny? But I’m not in the mood for jokes.’

  She looked at Jeffrey Chilham, who was standing, his face mottled with shock and anger.

  She said, ‘I presume that all the arrangements to get me back to the UK have been made with my father’s usual efficiency? Then I may as well take advantage of them. Let’s go.’

  ‘Very well,’ he said stiffly. ‘Although you realise I shall have to make a full report to Sir Clive.’ He cast a fulminating look at Ash. ‘And you’d better start looking for another job—if you can find one. You’ve made a bad enemy today, my friend.’

  ‘That,’ Ash said curtly, ‘is the least of my problems.’

  He turned on his heel and walked out into the garden.

  Chellie watched him go. The numbness of betrayal was beginning to wear off, and she wanted to sink to her knees and howl her loss and loneliness to the smiling sky.

  But I can’t cry, she told herself with icy determination. Not yet. Because I have to go back, and somehow restart my life.’

  A life, she thought, as pain twisted inside her, without love. And which would take every scrap of courage she possessed.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘DISGUSTING,’ Jeffrey said in a furious undertone, his voice shaking. ‘Disgraceful. I am lost for words to describe your behaviour.’

  ‘Really?’ Chellie sent him a frozen smile. ‘I would never have guessed.’

  The ride to St Hilaire’s small airport had been an uncomfortable one. Chellie, racked by her own unhappy thoughts and still stunned by Ash’s betrayal, had hardly exchanged two words with Jeffrey, glum and brooding beside her.

  But it had been too good to last. Almost as soon as their private aircraft was airborne, on its way to Barbados, Jeffrey had embarked on a low-voiced barrage of criticism.

  Like a wasp, buzzing in her ear, Chellie thought wearily.