by Penny Jordan
‘Don’t worry, I’ll be the perfect pupil.’ She hugged Jenna tightly. ‘Sorry for being such an obnoxious toad lately, Mum…but you do understand, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ There were tears in Jenna’s throat. In one way she resented the fact that James was the one who had restored her loving, affectionate daughter to her, and yet she knew she ought to feel gratitude, but then, when had the human heart ever been able to be schooled in what it should and should not feel?
‘I thought we might stop for dinner and a talk on the way back,’ James suggested, as they drove away. ‘Sarah will be all right for a few hours with my housekeeper.’
‘What exactly is there left to talk about?’ Jenna asked sarcastically. ‘It seems you’ve anticipated my acceptance of your proposal. You’ve even decided where we’re going to be married!’
‘I didn’t tell Lucy deliberately, if that’s what you’re hinting,’ James returned evenly.
Jenna compressed her lips. James had never struck her as a man who would let himself be pushed into saying or doing anything he did not wish.
‘What did she do?’ Her voice was dripping with acid. ‘Apply thumbscrews?’
‘Not in a physical sense. She asked me if she could spend part of her school holidays with me, and if I would talk to you about her visiting me in London. She was working herself up into quite a state and so I told her that I’d proposed to you.’
‘But not that I had not accepted.’
Jenna was aware of him looking at her, his glance sharp and objective. ‘You could always have told her that yourself.’
Jenna mentally visualised Lucy’s reaction if she had done so and remained silent.
‘You don’t need to give me dinner,’ she said after a few minutes.
‘Maybe not, but it will provide a relaxing background for us to talk in—and on neutral territory. There’s a place a couple of miles down the road from here. I sometimes call in on the way to my godmother’s. Which reminds me, I must take you down to meet her soon. I’d thought of asking her to take charge of the girls while we’re away.’
‘Away?’ Jenna frowned. ‘Away where?’
‘Where do newly-married couples normally go? On honeymoon, of course.’
‘No! There’s absolutely no reason for anything like that!’
‘On the contrary, there are several excellent reasons,’ James argued silkily. ‘None of them the ones that usually apply I’ll admit, but excellent none the less. For a start I have business in the Caribbean that needs attending to. The holiday complex I’m involved in has reached the stage where discussions are due—as a matter of fact I want to pick your professional brain over some aspects of the décor of the luxury suites, so it won’t exactly be a holiday for you either. And then there’s the fact that we are going to be living with two extremely sharp-eyed young women and I think a brief break away on our own, so that we can get used to one another and feel more at ease with one another, is essential.’
Jenna took a deep breath. ‘Before you go any further, I want to make it plain to you that if I marry you, it will be a marriage in name only—without sex,’ she added baldly.
‘Unusual…but not impossible. Am I allowed to ask why?’
For a moment she was too startled by his calm reaction to speak. ‘I don’t love you.’
She saw his eyebrows lift and could have sworn his mouth twitched in faint amusement. ‘Is that necessary?’
He was making her feel like a gauche seventeen-year-old. ‘For me, yes,’ she said firmly. ‘Since you’ve put me in a position where I can’t really refuse to marry you, I will, but only if I have your guarantee that you’ll never…’
‘Force my unwanted attentions on you?’ He sounded more amused than put out. ‘Very well. You have it. Tell me, though, does this guarantee me to live life as a celibate?’
‘Would that be possible?’ She said it drily, and was disturbed by the sudden glint of anger in his eyes.
‘Maybe not, but obviously it is for you unless you’re trying to tell me that you have a lover.’
Jenna’s mouth went dry, but she knew he meant to get an answer to his question.
‘No…no, I don’t,’ she admitted at length, her voice a cracked, hoarse sound in the silence of the car, leaving her with the feeling that she had betrayed far more to him than she had intended.
‘So. No lover and no sex. Why?’
‘Why not? Not everyone centres their life on the gratification of their sexual desires.’
‘No, but very few people exclude them from their lives entirely, which is, I assume, what you’re saying you do?’
He had turned off the main road now, and Jenna cursed his mental dexterity which enabled him to continue driving and questioning her at the same time.
‘Am I permitted to ask if this aversion is of a recent or long-standing nature?’
‘Does it really matter?’ Suddenly Jenna felt tired and defeated. ‘If you still want to marry me then you know my terms, James. It’s up to you.’
They were driving past stone pillars embellished with spread-winged eagles, attractive flares illuminating their path.
‘This hotel is renowned for the excellence of its suites,’ James told her wryly, as he stopped the car. ‘If it wasn’t for your embargo on sex, I might have suggested that we stay the night and sample one—all in the course of business, naturally,’ he added in an indolent drawl.
Jenna refused to be affected by his mockery. ‘I’m sure there’ll be other times—and other companions, James,’ she said to him crisply.
His questioning about her reasons for wanting a no-sex marriage had left her nerves raw and edgy. The last thing she wanted to do now was sit down and dine with him as he discussed their forthcoming marriage, but as on so many occasions since he came into her life, it seemed she had no choice.
‘Shall we go in?’
Jenna joined him reluctantly, pausing briefly to admire the clever lighting that made the most of the hotel’s creeper-clad exterior. Architecturally it had no particular beauty and was, she suspected, Edwardian originally.
Unusually, the entrance of the hotel was via a conservatory. A huge vine covered most of its roof and walls, the greenery massed in the background high-lighting the black and white lozenge-tiled floor.
The area behind the reception desk was mirrored and cleverly lit, the whole effect striking and original.
‘The restaurant is through here,’ James touched her arm indicating an archway to their right.
A thick carpet in a rich blue-grey muffled their footsteps up the shallow flight of half a dozen stairs leading to a wider archway with the restaurant beyond.
An aura of intimacy had been created by the deft use of deep, upholstered sofas instead of the regulation chairs, the tables set at angles to one another so that they were not directly overlooked.
The same blue-grey carpet in the corridor covered the floor, a peachy-toned wallpaper in a ragged effect adding a note of warmth. Very traditional blue-grey velvet curtains hung at the windows, their matching pelmets edged in the same peach as the paper, as were the tie-backs.
The sofas were upholstered in a peach-on-blue fabric in some instances, with the colourway reversed to blue on peach in others, contrasting cushions adding a definitive note. The tablecloths were white damask, the cutlery a very traditional silver-plate. There was a soothing murmur of conversation all around them—no single voice particularly discernible, just a pleasant background sound like waves on a beach.
The head waiter greeted James by name and personally escorted them to a discreetly sheltered table.
In an effort to maintain some control of the evening Jenna made a show of studying the menu she was handed. She had never felt less like eating but having allowed the printed words on the card held in her hand to dance illegibly in front of her for several minutes she put it down as though having made her choice.
James was still studying his menu, his concentration providing Jenna with a rare opportun
ity to study him at close quarters without him being aware of it. His hair was dark and thick, shining with health and good grooming. She wondered rather absently if it would feel as silky as it looked and then checked the thought, her eyes widening in faint shock at herself just as he put down his menu and looked up at her.
‘Something wrong?’
Jenna shook her head. She was astounded by the direction of her own thoughts.
‘Ready to order?’
A waiter was hovering and she told him what she wanted. A little to her surprise, when the wine waiter arrived James consulted her about her own preferences. Jenna rarely drank. The teachings of her Calvinistic great-aunt still clung, and had been reinforced during her teens by the stark realisation that too much to drink meant a corresponding lessening of self-control.
She had ordered petits éclairs de saumon ou truite fumée, for her first course—tiny éclairs filled with smoked fish mousse and served with a fresh cucumber and dill sauce—and James had ordered pté. Jenna had also ordered a fish dish for her main course, sole bonne femme, whereas James had chosen duck with a rich accompanying sauce.
‘I don’t really have any preference,’ Jenna told him. ‘Something white and fairly dry.’
She watched as James consulted the list and then conversed with the hovering wine waiter.
When he had gone James said to her, ‘Well, I hope you approve of my choice—it can be as difficult to choose a wine for someone else’s palate as it can be to buy perfume for a woman one doesn’t know well.’
Jenna shrugged indifferently. ‘It really doesn’t matter what it is. I don’t drink much.’
James’s eyebrows went up. ‘What do you do?’ he jibed softly. ‘It seems to me that for a beautiful woman you’re remarkably unappreciative of many of the more sensual pleasures in life. Even your clothes suggest a certain lack of——’
‘Femininity?’ Jenna supplied icily. ‘I’m sorry if my appearance doesn’t match your high standards.’ Her eyes flashed dark storm warnings.
To her surprise James laughed. ‘No, you’re not,’ he contradicted her calmly. ‘If ever a woman was given to making and then reinforcing the statement that she doesn’t give a damn what any member of the male sex thinks about her, then that woman is you. What I want to know is why?’
His perception made Jenna feel uncomfortable. She felt as though somehow she had been trapped. As though he was deliberately leading their conversation in the direction he wanted it to go, and she had unwittingly allowed him to do so.
‘Does there have to be a reason?’ She took refuge in the brittle deflective reply, shrugging her shoulders, relieved that the arrival of their first course prevented James from continuing to press her.
However, he was more determined than she had thought. Immediately the waiter left he said, ‘Yes, I think there does. Something connected with Lucy’s father perhaps?’
Jenna dropped her fork, shock a painful spiking pain twisting inside her. What could James possibly know about Lucy’s father? The thought that he might know anything made her feel so ill that she couldn’t touch her food, and she pushed away the plate. Her throat felt extremely dry and she drank quickly from her glass. The wine was light and delicate, cleanly cold against her tongue and rather pleasant. As it slid down her throat it cooled and calmed her strained nerves, settling her stomach.
James continued to eat quite calmly, as though unaware of her perturbation, but once their plates had been removed and their main course put in front of them, he said smoothly, ‘I’m right, aren’t I, Jenna? Is it because he left you alone and carrying his child?’
She was so relieved she started to tremble as the tension flooded out of her. Of course James had no idea who Lucy’s real father was. She was being a fool to fear even for a minute that he might. Male-like her lack of interest in his sex had piqued his curiosity and he was applying what, to his masculine-tuned mind, was the most logical explanation for her attitude.
‘Think what you like,’ she told him coolly, applying herself to her sole, her appetite almost miraculously restored. The relief of knowing that he wasn’t some all-powerful being, capable of probing her deepest secrets was a heady release. She drank more wine, enjoying its subtle flavour, allowing their waiter to refill her glass.
A little to her surprise James did not press the issue, turning instead to ask her how long she expected it to be before she would be ready to move into the Hall.
‘It all depends.’ Her response was guarded. ‘If it is sound structurally, as I believe it will be, I had intended to move in almost immediately so that I can supervise the work as it takes place.’ She frowned, a thought suddenly striking her. ‘How will you be able to conduct your business affairs away from London?’
‘In exactly the same way as I do when I’m in the Caribbean or the States,’ he told her drily. ‘In these days of advanced electronics and computers, distance is no bar.’
‘But you won’t want to work among all the chaos of alterations and refurbishment surely?’ Jenna suggested. Unadmitted as yet—but there in her mind all the same—had been the conviction that once they were married she would be able to escape from James on the very valid excuse of being needed on site to check that all was progressing as it should be.
‘On the contrary,’ came his laconic drawl, ‘I’m quite looking forward to it—it should prove extremely interesting.’
‘But what about Sarah? Surely it would be unwise to move her at the moment? There’s her visit to hospital and——’
‘York has an excellent hospital equally well-equipped to deal with her condition,’ James told her coolly. ‘I’ve already checked.’ His eyes held hers as he said softly, ‘Stop wriggling, Jenna. You’ve laid down your conditions for this marriage; now it’s my turn to lay down mine. Providing there are no structural problems with the old Hall, we shall be married at the end of the month—I’m already due to fly out to the Caribbean that week, and undue comment expressed by the Press about the suddenness of our marriage can be logically explained away by the fact that I want to combine an existing business trip with a honeymoon—extremely unromantic but less likely to give rise to speculation than a rushed ceremony and then an abrupt departure for Yorkshire, don’t you think?’
Jenna was forced to agree, fighting down an increasing sense of panic and unreality as James continued. ‘Once we return from the Caribbean I’m hoping that we’ll be able to move North almost straight away. From what you’ve told me and I’ve seen myself, the renovation of the old Hall isn’t going to be accomplished overnight, so my suggestion is that we move into the older part for the present, while they’re working on the Georgian wing, and then transfer over to that once it’s been finished to allow them to work on the rest of the house. Some of the rooms are reasonably habitable, and if you think you’re going to have any problems organising a suite to accommodate ourselves plus Sarah and Lucy, then let me know and I’ll see what I can do.’
His arrogant assumption that he could achieve more than she could infuriated Jenna. Her chin lifted and tilted firmly. She looked him in the eye and said coolly, ‘That won’t be necessary. I can manage.’
Just too late she saw the triumphant gleam shimmer in his eyes, and realised that he had challenged her deliberately, baiting the trap so cleverly that she had fallen into it without even being aware that it was there—not just fallen, but rushed headlong to meet it, Jenna admitted ruefully, willing herself not to give vent to the anger she could feel building up inside her.
‘Once we’re settled, I think it would be a good idea to find a local school for Lucy,’ James continued, apparently oblivious to her rising fury. ‘She isn’t happy at her present school, and since one of the reasons we’re getting married is for her sake, it seems only reasonable that she should be there to benefit from our relationship.’
Jenna waited until he had finished, and then, drawing a calming breath, enquired sweetly, ‘Anything else?’
To her surprise James laughed. ‘A
h…so that red hair is indicative of a temper after all! I was beginning to wonder.’ He saw her confusion and said softly, ‘Has no one ever teased you before, Jenna?’
Teased her? She stared at him in bewilderment. Yes…once long ago, Rachel…Tears blurred her vision, a terrible aching pain flooding over her as the memory of the agony of the loss of her sister swept over her. For a moment James was forgotten and she was back in the past, sharing jokes with her sister, sharing the warmth of their close relationship.
‘Jenna…’
His voice was an alien intrusion in her private world and she wanted to shut it out, but it was too late. Blinking rapidly she banished the tears threatening to fall. She had finished her meal and she pushed back her chair slightly saying, ‘I think it’s time we left, James. With all that I’ve got to accomplish between now and the end of the month, I’m going to need an early start in the morning.’ She judged it best to ignore his last comment and her own reaction to it. He was a dangerously perceptive man, and she wished with all her heart she was not going to have to marry him, but he wouldn’t let her escape now. He wanted the Hall too much for that.
CHAPTER NINE
‘YES…structurally it’s fine…’ Jenna cradled the telephone receiver against her shoulder as she listened to the surveyor’s report on the old Hall, scribbling down notes with her free hand.
Maggie came in, grinning from ear to ear as she deposited a typed message on Jenna’s desk. Jenna frowned as her eyes flicked over it.
‘Lunch at 1 p.m. with James,’ Maggie had written.
Damn, she had already planned to work through lunch today. There was an awful lot to do if the Hall was going to be ready for them to move into in the time James had stipulated. She could, of course, tell him that what he wanted was impossible, but Jenna had the unpleasant feeling that if she did, somehow he would find a way of proving her wrong.
Picking up the note, she scribbled across it, ‘Okay’, and handed it back to Maggie.
Ten minutes later, when she had finished on the phone and her secretary had come back into the office, Maggie enquired lightly, ‘Dare I ask if this is more than merely a business meeting, or will. I get my head bitten off?’
