While they wouldn’t have been ridiculously expensive, they weren’t cheap costume jewellery either. More money than sense, she thought bitterly. Buying them just so he could force her to wear them against her will was a ridiculously extravagant piece of theatre, and a waste. How much better use he could have made of that money by giving it to charity. Brandon Carlisle sank still further in her estimation.
Apart from that brief minefield, the rest of the trip passed uneventfully. She was happy to just focus on her driving and listen to Sara talk. She didn’t want to think about Brandon Carlisle ever again. Thankfully, they moved in completely different circles. It was unlikely she would even bump into him at Farthingale Cottage in the future, so there was no reason she need see him again as long as she lived.
The stab of anguish at that thought, potent enough to drive her to the stables against her better judgement, was still surprisingly painful despite her utter contempt for him now. It would pass, she knew. The best medicine was work, which she determined to throw herself into as soon as she got home.
And she did.
Fortunately, she’d secured the web rewrite job the previous Friday, she had next month’s column to start planning, her blog to update and her book to work on, although the prospect of writing romance had, at least for the moment, lost its appeal.
But when she took a break from her computer and her other work, she at least did some research for her book by listening to podcasts while doing housework, running and lying in bed waiting for sleep.
She refused to give herself time to go over the memories of Farthingale Cottage and Brandon Carlisle, but still couldn’t quite resist checking her phone more than usual in case there was a call, a message, anything. But there wasn’t.
A couple of times she gave way to temptation and searched for photographs of him on the internet. Each time, the sight of his handsome face smiling out at her triggered a bolt first of disbelief at how gorgeous he was and how miserable she was without him, and then how those good looks hid a black, black heart and how she hated him. It was easier not to see him, she decided, so she stopped looking.
By the following Saturday, she was pleased to find some of her equilibrium had returned. Apart from a dull ache in her heart and tight ball under her ribs, which she pretended weren’t there, she told herself it was as though it had never happened.
“Is that you, Sara?” she called, hearing a tap at the door. She pulled it open, and her heart dropped like a rock into a pond as she found herself staring up into the flashing blue eyes of Brandon Carlisle.
All the lies she’d been telling herself all week about how he wasn’t as attractive as she’d made out flew straight out the open door. Wearing light brown chinos and a navy shirt that darkened his eyes, designer black stubble and his hair charmingly rumpled, he was heart-stoppingly gorgeous. There was no denying it.
While she? She felt like a scruff, dressed in her old black jeans and pink pullover, her hair pulled out of the way into a topknot, no make-up, pink fluffy slippers! If only floors really did open up and swallow people, she thought miserably.
“Daniella,” he nodded.
Without waiting for an invitation, he swung past into her apartment. She knew it was small, but his physical size and virile presence shrunk it to the size of a shoebox.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She turned as he walked past but stayed by the still-open door. “I don’t remember inviting you.”
“No, you didn’t,” he growled, moving closer to her so she had to look up at him.
Refusing to allow him close enough to intimidate her, she stepped back and gestured to the open door.
“Then perhaps you’d be kind enough to leave.” Her tone was as sharp as a shard of ice.
“Not until I get some answers,” Brandon hissed.
“You get answers?” Danny nearly choked. “You’re not getting anything from me. Nothing,” she flung at him. “And don’t you dare touch me,” she added coldly as he raised his hands as though to grab hold of her.
Instantly, he dropped his arms back by his side, and murderous was the word that sprang to Danny’s mind as his expression changed. But what could he possibly have to be so angry about, she puzzled? She was the injured party! How dare he waltz in with no explanation, no apology and start angrily accusing her of… of… what?
“Just leave,” she ordered him again, her voice louder.
“I said I’m not leaving without answers,” he replied hotly.
“I have no idea what you want answers to, but I want an apology. How about that?” she barked, her temper rising by the second, the light through the still open door lighting up the red in her hair.
“An apology?” he exploded. “Me give you an apology? You’re the rude, sulky brat!”
“I’m the what? A rude sulky brat?” She wanted to slap his face, instead she stamped her foot. How dare he? “You mean you’re the nasty, conceited, despicable liar!”
“Oh, I am, am I?” His right hand was clenched into a fist and he punched his other hand with it. “And how do you figure that? What exactly is it that I am supposed to have lied about? You’re not still on about my mistaken identity, are you, for goodness sake? Surely, you’re not that childish! Or did you decide I was lying about why I had to leave last week? Is that why you’ve been rudely ignoring all my calls and texts?”
“Liar!” Danny spat, infuriated. “I got no calls or texts from you. You just left Henry’s without so much as a goodbye. I took it you’d gone forever, and I was fine with that. Good riddance, as far as I was concerned.”
This time he started as though she really had slapped his face, and her defensive anger threatened to desert her as she saw pain and confusion flash briefly in his eyes. His body relaxed, the energy draining from him.
“May I sit down for a minute, Danny?” he asked flatly.
She nodded. He sat on her couch.
“Shut the door and come and sit down too,” he said simply, patting the other end of the couch, not insisting she sit too close. She hesitated for a moment.
“I said sit,” he said again, more firmly.
She pushed the front door closed and sat at the other end of the couch.
He turned to her.
“I apologise,” his mouth curled at the end with the tiniest of grins. “No idea what for – yet.” He added the last word quickly seeing Danny about to explode again. “But you said I wouldn’t get any answers until you got an apology, so there’s your apology. I just want the answer to one question. Are you saying you didn’t get any texts or missed calls from me? No missed calls that might have been from me?”
Danny shook her head defiantly, taking out her phone and holding it out to him.
“Nothing. Check for yourself. You’ll have to take my word for it that I haven’t deleted anything. But if you had really called or messaged me, why wouldn’t I have answered? What evidence have I that you tried to contact me?”
“This,” he growled, pulling his own phone out and showing her the messages he’d sent.
“Well, that’s all very nice.” She shrugged dismissively, pursing her lips. “But that’s not my number, is it? How can I even be sure those were meant for me?”
“What do you mean, not your number?” His brows were furrowed, and he stared at his phone as though it had fallen from the sky and he had no idea what it was. He shook his head, trying to shake his thoughts into order, then looked up at her.
“Did you at least get my message about Mum?”
Danny’s eyes narrowed and one corner of her upper lip rose.
“Oh!” The penny dropped. He looked at her from under his brows and turned up his hands and held them out to her, bouncing them up and down. “Oh my God, Danny! That’s why you think I owe you an apology. You went to the stables to meet me, didn’t you? And I wasn’t there.”
Danny blushed and averted her face.
“Didn’t you?” He reached out and took hold of her hand. “I left a message for you
that I had to leave. Didn’t you get it? Vivienne asked Henry to explain I’d been called away, and he was going to pass the message on to you. Didn’t he?”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t know you’d left until Sara told me about nine thirty that morning, but she didn’t say why. I thought you’d intended leaving early all along.”
“Oh, dear,” he said, moving across the couch to grab hold of her and kiss her hair. “God. No wonder you’re so angry. No, sweet girl.,” He looked into her wide-open, doleful eyes as she turned to him. His face was so close to hers she could feel his breath. “I promise you I fully intended being at the stables, but something came up. I had to leave. It was so early, I didn’t want to wake you, but I got your phone number from Vivienne who got it from Henry when she went to say goodbye. She asked him to let you know we had to go. Only somewhere along the line it seems to have got jumbled. It’s odd the texts went anyway, and no one replied; that’s very strange. And then I’ve been on location all week, which is why I was only calling and texting and couldn’t actually come here in person till today. I managed to get your address from Will.”
As the dreadful confusion became clear, something between a tiny happy laugh and sob escaped Danny. He hadn’t abandoned her. He had been thinking about her. He had tried to contact her, and he had tracked her down.
Like a jack popping out of its box, he sprang to his feet and paced agitatedly, filling the tiny flat again.
“I have to get going,” he said, plunging cold reality into her warm flush of happiness.
“Already?” She stood up. Was he playing with her?
“Yes. I have to go out of town, but I just had to see you first while I had the chance.” His face softened into a vulnerability that broke her heart. “I left last week not knowing if you planned to keep our appointment in the stables. And then when I didn’t hear back from you all week, I assumed you hadn’t. But you did, didn’t you?”
“I… I…” Danny stammered but no words came. She blushed remembering rushing to him with her hair in plaits. Her desolation when he wasn’t there, and how she’d cried herself to sleep in the hay. Is that why he’d come? Just to find out if his charms had worked and then to leave her again.
“If you have to go, you’d better get going,” she said coldly, walking to the front door, opening it and then standing next to it with her arms folded across her chest.
He joined her, but instead of going through, he closed it and took her in his arms.
“I do have to go,” he said urgently. “But I don’t want to leave like this. Come with me. Just bring an overnight bag. I’ll have you back tomorrow, I promise. Please, Danny. I need to show you something.”
Danny’s eyes popped in surprise.
“Come with you? Just like that?” Her voice quavered with uncertainty. She would have to be crazy to go off overnight with this dangerously attractive man who had already demonstrated how easily he could control her. Even as she stood there, she could feel his eyes piercing her, his mind telling her to look at him, but if she did, she would do his bidding, whatever it was. She had to think for herself.
“Is there any reason you can’t come?”
“No. But…”
“No, buts,” he said firmly. “I promise you, Danny, you will be perfectly safe. I have already said that I will never do anything you don’t want me to. I am not in the habit of forcing myself where I’m not wanted, and if you tell me not to touch you, I shan’t. No matter how hard it is,” he added with a slightly lopsided grin that melted Danny’s insides.
“Ok,” she said in a tiny voice, surprising herself.
Brandon grinned widely and dropped a kiss on her lips.
“Great. Let’s get going then.”
“Can I have a moment to throw a few things in a bag? What do I need? Should I change?”
“There’s no need to change. You’re perfect just as you are.”
He emphasised his words by pursing his lips and running his eyes appreciatively down over her body and back to her face. There was no mistaking the expression of raw carnal desire in his eyes, underlined by the now familiar tic in his temple that signalled tension. Once again, his eyes held her entranced with the promise of the as yet undiscovered delights her body intuitively craved.
“Bring some night things,” he said gently. “And a jacket. And a short skirt. Pleated if you have one. And a white blouse. You won’t need anything dressy. Jeans and a skirt will be fine. Quick then. We need to get going.”
* * *
That evening, slipping into the pleated tartan skirt she had brought with her at Brandon’s insistence, Danny felt she might literally explode with happiness.
It had been a truly wonderful day, and she had learned so much about Brandon, most importantly that she’d been altogether wrong about him, she admitted to herself, buttoning up the plain, white blouse and tucking it into her skirt.
His mother, and his devotion to her, was the reason he’d had to leave Farthingale Cottage so unexpectedly, she’d discovered.
Despite the grey day and intermittent drizzle, Danny had loved the two-hour drive from her place to the nursing home in Wiltshire. She’d discovered they had similar taste in music and that they both loved to sing along in the car. He had the better voice but didn’t try to drown her out, instead encouraging her and complimenting her.
When they weren’t singing duets, he kept her entertained with stories about filming on location and engaged with her in discussions on the issues about which she’d written and felt strongly. It seemed he had also thought about most of the issues himself and by and large held similar views.
By the time they’d arrived at Milford House, he had put Danny completely at ease and it wasn’t until they were out of the car and people started pointing at him and wanting to come and say hello that Danny remembered he was, after all, a widely popular personality.
But even then, she deeply admired the way he seemed to have time for his fans, not shoving his way past or getting irritated, but dispensing handshakes, waves and cheery greetings to anyone who wanted one.
And her respect deepened still further when she met his mother, Rhonda, who was suffering from early onset dementia. With some financial support from Brandon, who visited whenever he could, Rhonda had been able to stay in her cottage in a nearby village. Thus far she only needed daily visits from a caregiver, a bit of additional help from her friends, and a panic button which called straight through to Milford House if she needed help.
Danny learned that in the early hours of the previous Saturday night, while they’d been at Farthingale Cottage, Rhonda had had a nasty fall. Her phone had been in reach and she’d been able to hit the panic button. The superintendent at Milford House, where she’d been taken by ambulance, had called Brandon, who had immediately packed up and rushed to her.
Fortunately, Rhonda had not been badly hurt. She’d had a nasty bump on her head, though, so it had been decided to keep her in the respite section of Milford House until she was fully recovered, probably another week.
Watching mother and son together, the love between them was palpable. From the stories he had told her, Danny knew already that Brandon was deeply grateful to Rhonda for how hard she’d worked and how much care she’d given him to ensure he had all the opportunities he could after his father had left. He’d also told her that now it was his turn to look after his mother.
After meeting Rhonda, Danny understood the catch in Brandon’s throat when he’d told her this. No doubt he’d planned for a life of leisure and travel for his mother, all the things she’d not been able to do while he was growing up and money was scarce. It was a cruel twist of fate that just as the world had become accessible to her, her mind had begun closing down from it.
Watching Brandon holding his mother’s hand and gently stroking her hair, Danny’s heart had filled to overflowing. At that moment, as if sensing her eyes on him, he’d looked up at her. Their eyes had locked, and this time Danny didn’t
want to look away. She wanted Brandon to see reflected in her eyes all that was in her heart. She loved him. She knew that as surely as she knew the world would turn, the sun would rise and rain would fall. Loved him with all her being.
He’d known a week ago. He’d told her then that they were destined to be together. She was his woman, he’d said. A frisson of love and desire shot through her. She was spending the night with him and would be able to show him in as many ways as he wanted that she loved him truly and passionately and eternally.
She’d also discovered that he owned a house on four acres not far away which is where they were spending the night. He’d bought it to be close to his mother, and although the location work he did had made it hard for him to spend a lot of time there, he told her of his plans to make it his permanent home someday and even have a couple of horses.
After leaving Rhonda, they stopped for a meal at a lovely old pub. Excitement at what lay ahead dampened Danny’s appetite, but she treasured the closeness of them sitting cosily together sharing a bowl of dip, olives, hot bread, potato skins, salad and a bottle of wine.
When they’d finished, they silently walked back to the car hand in hand, cloaked by the undercurrent of anticipation of what the night would bring.
Reaching the car, Brandon took Danny in his arms and kissed her long and sweet, then still holding her close, spoke softly.
“Nothing will happen tonight unless you want it to,” he murmured against her cheek. “I said before I have no intention of pressuring you into doing anything you don’t want or don’t feel comfortable with. As beautiful as you are, and as much as I desire you, I promise I will keep my hands off you if that is what you want.”
“No. It’s not what I want.” Danny put her hands against his chest and leant back so he could see into her eyes.
“What do you want?” he muttered thickly, and she felt the pressure of his swelling groin against her belly. “You must tell me. I don’t want any misunderstandings. You are too precious.”
Danny’s Secret Desire Page 14
