She pulled out her laptop and settled on the bed.
The topic for her latest piece was a subject dear to her heart and she was greatly relishing exposing what she believed to be a scam being perpetrated on the millions of women who bought cosmetics: that of the overuse and, in many cases, complete misuse of the words ‘natural’ and ‘chemical’.
‘All natural’ screamed the advertisements with the inescapable inference that this meant ‘beneficial for humans’. Or ‘no harmful chemicals’ which seemed to be understood to mean ‘contains no chemicals as they are harmful to humans’, rather than ‘contains chemicals but none that are harmful to humans’. If the advertisements intended the latter, they were doing little to educate the public that this was the case.
“No chemicals, indeed,” Danny muttered to herself for the umpteenth time as she defined for the readers the precise meaning of the word ‘chemical’, pointing out that pure water is itself a chemical.
So then, she typed furiously, so absorbed in her task all thoughts of Jones temporarily displaced by another passion, what about the use of the word ‘natural’? Is everything harvested from nature necessarily good to put on your skin? If you believe so, why not try a stinging nettle facial?
And if man-made meant inferior, she pointed out, what about the many life-saving medications synthesised in laboratories.
With most of the work on the piece already done, Danny rounded it off by pointing out that even when ingredients for cosmetic products are derived directly from plants, they aren’t always simply ground, mixed and stuck in a jar.
Rather by the time a concoction is complete, any ‘natural’ ingredients are probably no longer recognizable. In addition, the usefulness of cosmetics and skin care preparations is dependent on their biochemical compatibility with human skin and not on whether the ingredients are plucked from the earth or not.
Pleased with the result after having read it through one last time and finished the final edit, Danny attached a list of recommended products she had researched and compiled, and then sent it all off to her editor.
Her phone told her she’d taken less than an hour and could now join the party. Feeling a bit guilty that she’d so far neglected her hosts, she turned her full attention to the day’s activities.
Henry, as he did at the slightest opportunity in summer, had organised a charity cricket match on the village green, commencing at twelve-thirty. Today’s match would be even more social than usual, with friends from the village not coming to the evening party expected to drop by the ground to congratulate Henry and Semina.
Having numbered amongst the better bowlers in her school team, Danny had been happy to dust off her old flannels and shirt and show off her skills. Six years had passed since she’d left school, but she still slipped easily into her cricket whites, pulled on her socks and shoes, grabbed her bag and ran downstairs.
“Ah, there you are!” Henry almost collided with her at the bottom. “How was your ride? And Sara said you had work to finish? All done?”
“Yes, all done. And thank you so much for letting me ride, Bella. It was perfect.” Danny smiled at him but decided against mentioning Bella having bolted with her, at least for the moment. “But I feel rather rude not having joined in at all. I’m sorry, but I’m here now and ready for cricket.”
“Not rude at all, old girl,” Henry assured her kindly. “It’s all been terribly casual. I’m chuffed if you are having a good time and feeling at home. And, of course, if you snag a couple of wickets for our team as well, I’ll forgive you anything.”
“I’ll do my best, but no guarantees,” Danny laughed. “I might just grab a bite before we head off,” she added. The one piece of toast she had earlier had worn off and her empty tummy had started making growly noises.
“Good idea. We don’t want you fainting from lack of food, do we?” Henry chuckled standing aside. “Semina’s in the kitchen getting the lunches. She’ll find something for you, and I’ll see you outside shortish. George and I are just finishing off a job.”
A delicious apple muffin and glass of juice later, Danny was ready to help Semina out to the cars with two bulging picnic baskets full of chicken, bean patties, tomatoes, salad, bread, fruit and fruit cake.”
“Shall we go then,” she said, picking up one of the baskets while Semina took the other.
“Semina, have you seen Danny? I can’t find her anywhere,” Sara demanded loudly, barging through the door nearly knocking Semina over. “Ah, there you are,” she exclaimed with dramatic relief when she spotted her friend. “Gosh you’re being hard to keep tabs on this weekend. I went to your room to fetch you, and you weren’t there. Then I checked outside and couldn’t find you. Did you finish your work?”
“Yes.” Danny laughed at Sara’s exuberant excitement. “Yes, I’ve finished and sent it off. I’ve had a snack and now I’m helping Semina take the lunches to the car.”
“Well, thank goodness for that. Come on. We’d better get a move on. We’re just about ready to leave, I think, and you haven’t even met everyone yet.”
Sara ushered them down the hall and out the front door to where Henry’s Range Rover and William’s Mercedes were waiting to ferry the party of eight to the nearby village. Danny and Semina loaded the lunch baskets into the back of the Range Rover, and then Semina and Sara joined Will and a man Danny didn’t recognise, waiting by the Mercedes.
While putting her basket in the car, Danny deliberately took her time so she could look around to see if there was any sign of her morning companion. Judging by the travel arrangements, he wasn’t joining them on their excursion.
Disappointed he hadn’t even taken the opportunity to conveniently be doing some gardening nearby so he might see and speak with her prior to her leaving for the afternoon, she turned her attention to the other guests.
Danny noted with amusement that Sara was simpering and flirting outrageously with the mystery man in a way she’d never seen her do previously. He was roughly Danny’s height, tall for a woman but average for a man. Next to tiny Sara, though, he might have appeared huge except for her monstrous heels. Nonetheless, he was still at least half a head taller.
Somewhat scruffy, brown hair hung over his ears and the collar of his long-sleeve white shirt. Ripped jeans, a pinstriped waistcoat, and comfortable cream loafers with no socks completed his casual, arty style.
He was very handsome, Danny admitted, with plenty of avant-garde boyish charm. And clearly, Sara thought so. She didn’t seem to be able to take her eyes off him, Danny grinned to herself. This must be Will’s cousin, the famous Brandon Carlisle Sara hadn’t been able to stop talking about. He certainly had the look of an actor about him.
Able to study him without being rude, Danny had to grudgingly admit that there was no doubt he was an attractive man. But still not greatly more so than plenty of other men, she added to herself waspishly, her prejudice against fame coming to the fore. It was hard to see why he should have set the world on fire and melted so many female hearts. Still, that was what she’d been expecting: the bigger the build-up, the bigger the disappointment, she thought with a sigh.
At that moment, another woman, wearing designer fawn slacks and a red silk blouse, with a black chiffon scarf around her neck clicked through the front door on pointy, black stilettos, her eyes sweeping imperiously over the parking area. Scanning the assembled group, a cloud of annoyance settled over her face as she agitatedly rummaged in her handbag for a cigarette and lit it.
Danny guessed the newcomer must be Vivienne, and she smiled to herself remembering Sara’s none too complimentary description of her. Still, Sara was rather given to hyperbole and colourful language, and Danny was prepared to bet that Vivienne was nothing like the ogre that Sara would have her believe. Her air of annoyance was no doubt due to the fawning going on over Brandon. It must get tiresome, Danny thought, feeling a stab of sympathy for the other woman who was probably used to being jostled aside by fans eager to get closer to their idol.<
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Detouring away from the others, Danny joined Vivienne who had turned her gaze back in through the front door and hadn’t seen Danny approaching.
“Hello,” she said cheerfully. “I’m Danny. I guess you must be Vivienne.” But the smile of greeting froze on her face as the perfectly coiffured blonde head turned haughtily and she found herself looking into a pair of ice-blue eyes.
Ignoring Danny’s outstretched hand, the woman glanced coldly up and down her, then with a dismissive flick of her head, turned away with no more than a clipped, “So you’re Danny.”
Reeling slightly as though she’d been slapped, Danny left her and hurried over to where Semina, Will, and Sara and her handsome companion were still in deep conversation by the Merc.
“Hi, William.” She smiled. “I haven’t seen you for ages.”
“Hi, Danny.” William gave her a hug and quick peck on the cheek. “No, and you’ve been quite the elusive one. I was beginning to doubt you were really here.”
“Sorry.” Danny smiled apologetically, aware she was just being teased.
“Danny, Danny, Danny,” Sara was tugging at her arm. “Quick, you have to meet the most gorgeous man in the whole world!” She turned adoringly to the man with her and linked her arm possessively through his. “Danny, I’d like you to meet George Dale. George, this lovely lady is my very, very best friend, Miss Danny Ravenshaw. I think you were beginning to think she didn’t really exist too, weren’t you?”
George? Danny felt her eyes open wide with surprise and confusion. When she’d not spotted Henry, she’d assumed he and George were still fixing the lights. But this was George!
“Miss Ravenshaw,” George nodded, holding out his hand.
“Hello,” she managed to stammer, shaking the offered hand. “Danny, please.”
“Very well, Danny it is,” he smiled, and Danny found herself warming to him immediately.
“Isn’t he lovely?” Sara beamed proudly, and Danny liked him even more noting his blush at the compliment and the obvious pleasure shining in his kind eyes. Sara seemed to have taken more than her usual passing fancy to him, Danny thought, and she was glad for her friend’s sake that, judging by the way he was smiling at her, the feeling was mutual.
“You’ve got a full car there,” said Henry, coming up to join them. “Why don’t you get started, and we’ll wait for Brandon and lock up. He and Vivienne can come with us.” He walked off towards the Range Rover.
So, it’s the famous Brandon Carlisle who is apparently too important to be on time or worry about keeping others waiting, Danny thought. Or maybe he just can’t resist making a grand entrance, she added peevishly to herself, disliking him even more.
“Come on then, Georgie. Hop in the back seat with me,” Sara giggled.
“Ah, here he is. I’ll lock up,” Henry announced at that moment.
Danny’s first impulse was to swing around and see what all the fuss was about but refusing to act like a star-struck schoolgirl, she resisted. She’d see him soon enough.
Danny was about to get in the front seat of the Merc when Semina came up behind.
“Wait, Danny.” Semina stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Brandon, Vivienne, come and meet our other guest.”
Danny heard footsteps crunching on the gravel behind her and composed her face into a friendly but unimpressed expression as she turned for Semina’s introductions.
“Vivienne Blakemore and Brandon Carlisle. I’d like you to meet Danny Ravenshaw.”
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Danny Ravenshaw.” His voice was deep and pure, with a hint of a southern accent.
Chapter 6
Danny’s face froze in disbelief as she found herself looking up into a pair of blisteringly blue eyes sparkling with barely repressed humour.
Her heart immediately did an involuntary flip-flop. The blackness of his hair and stubble and the brilliant blueness of his eyes accentuated by his white clothes, he was simply stunning. But stunning or not, her head was spinning. Was this a joke? Jones was Brandon Carlisle? Brandon Carlisle was Henry’s factotum? Henry’s factotum was an actor? What was going on?
“We’ve met,” Vivienne announced rudely. “Come on, Brandon. I’m tired of standing here. I’m going to the car.” And without waiting for a reply or for Brandon, she stalked off to the Range Rover.
“How do you do?” Brandon repeated, this time holding out his hand. With Semina watching, Danny had no option but to take it, but her brow was still furrowed in confusion.
“Brandon, I think you’re coming with us in the four-wheel drive. Danny’s going with Sara, George and William. We’ll see you there, Danny,” Semina said as she left, satisfied she had fulfilled her duties as host.
“Brandon Carlisle?” she whispered. He nodded. “Not Jones?” Even quieter.
Scrunching his lips, he gave his head a little shake. “Uh uh,” he whispered back.
Danny stared at him aghast as the pieces fell into place. As the terrible truth became all too clear, she tried to snatch her hand away, but he gripped it more tightly, refusing to let go.
“May I have my hand back,” she asked coldly. She tried to pull it away again, but he held it fast.
Fighting to retain her composure, she would have given anything to be anywhere else in the world right then except where she was. Unbidden and unwelcome, images of the previous night and, even more so, this morning flooded her mind.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that she had embarrassed herself by mistaking this man for Henry’s groundsman, ‘Jones’ for goodness’ sake, she had allowed him to make love to her, firstly with his words, then with his hands; she had stripped down to just her knickers and let him see and fondle her naked breasts; and she had allowed him to bend her over, take down her knickers and spank her bare bottom. He had played with her like a toy he’d found in the garden.
And he’d said nothing, made no attempt whatsoever to correct her misconception. Feeling hot rage rising in her, she tried once more to wrest her hand from his.
“Let me go, Mr. Carlisle,” she spat.
“But you haven’t even said ‘Hello. Pleased to meet you’ yet,” he teased her, adding, “and, please, call me ‘Jones’. I much prefer it to Mr. Carlisle.”
“How could you do it?” she blurted out as salty pools of humiliation and disappointment flooded her eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
With what dignity she could muster, she looked defiantly up at him. He may have made a prize fool of her but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her crumble. Instead of the expected triumphant amusement, though, she found gentle concern.
“That’s my girl,” he said softly. “Don’t be angry. I said I would see you soon, and I did say you had to be nice and sweet. Remember?”
Danny began to understand why he had managed to make such a name for himself as an actor; he was certainly managing to sound concerned and sincere at the moment. Not that she believed it for a second!
“It wasn’t deliberate subterfuge,” he continued in the same soft hypnotic tone. “At first you didn’t give me chance to introduce myself; you just assumed I was Henry’s groundsman. Then you told me you despised poor Brandon – whom you hadn’t even met, I might point out – but you seemed to quite fancy Jones, so I thought it best to be him if I wanted to get to know you better. And I did, you can be sure of that,” he added, his voice dropping to a sexy purr, as his thumb stroked the back of the hand he was refusing to release.
The intensity of his eyes was as searing as the sun, and she’d looked down despite not wanting to give any ground. She knew he was willing her to look up at him, but she resisted his magnetic pull, forcing him instead to bend down slightly and lower his head to be able to see into her face.
“You are despicable,” she told him coldly without giving him a chance to speak. “Go away and leave me alone. I never want to see or speak to you again.”
“That’s not an option,” he began but, at that moment, Vivienne called
him from the car as Henry returned from locking the front door and took his place in the driver’s seat. Turning to reply, Brandon loosened his grip on Danny’s hand, and in an instant, she had snatched it away and hurried to the Merc.
The others were just finishing settling in. Sara and George in the back and William in the driver’s seat. Busy as they were, getting organised and chatting among themselves, Danny’s distress went unobserved.
After clipping on her seat belt, with trembling fingers, she pulled a hairbrush from her handbag. Turning towards the window as the cars headed out the drive, she slowly brushed her hair to hide her face. Sara and George were engrossed with each other and William was concentrating on his driving, so Danny was able to be alone with her shock.
Dismay and anger nestled in her bones at her own stupidity and Jones’, no, Brandon Carlisle’s, duplicity. Her belief that she had at last met a man who could ignite a fire in her soul, and of him being her equal, a possible companion and friend, a man who she could love without reservations or conditions for a lifetime, had vanished without trace like a dream upon wakening, leaving only a crushing weight in her chest as its legacy.
She had expected to have a poor opinion of Brandon Carlisle, had told him as much in the stable last night – but how much worse than her expectations had he turned out to be?
Even she hadn’t envisaged of how little consequence he would regard another human being. He had cruelly deceived her, leading her on while his only true interest in her was as some pretty plaything he could degrade and humiliate, and in her innocent fascination with him admire the reflection of his own charm.
And even once unveiled, his fiancée only metres away, he had tried to maintain his hold over her. She was sickened by his ability to fake sincerity. It had almost been convincing except Danny knew he was an actor, and apparently as good as his fans claimed. He had played a part and played it well, too well.
Danny’s Secret Desire Page 8
