The Forbidden Innocent

by Sharon Kendrick

  His mouth tightened. ‘Very well, Ashley,’ he said, his voice low. ‘If that’s what you want, then that’s exactly what you’ll get.’ And, with a finality which took her breath away, he turned swiftly on his heel and walked away, leaving her staring at his retreating back as tears began to well in her eyes. Hotly, they pricked at her eyes as she sank down on the bed, burying her face in her hands and wondering how she could have let him go like that. Turned away the only man she had ever really wanted.

  Because it was the right thing to do. The only thing to do. And if she was going to carry on working for him—then they had both better forget that it had ever happened.

  It took a strange kind of courage to go and face him again, but Jack wasn’t in the study when she went downstairs. In fact, there was no sign of him anywhere in the house—only a rather disconsolate-looking Casey sniffing around the place and looking as lost as he always did when his master wasn’t around. And when Christine arrived later that day, carrying a whole load of shopping and provisions, unusually, she didn’t ask where Jack was.

  It was only when Ashley mentioned his name in a studiedly casual way that she received yet another shock.

  ‘Have you spoken to Mr Marchant?’ she asked the housekeeper.

  Christine nodded as she slid a carton of orange juice into the fridge. ‘Yes, he rang me just before he went off to London,’ she answered.

  Ashley’s heart missed a beat. ‘To London?’ she repeated—some stupid element of hurt pride not wanting to admit that she didn’t have a clue what the older woman was talking about.

  ‘Didn’t he tell you? No? Actually, I wondered when he’d be going down there again,’ confided Christine. ‘He hasn’t been for ages, which is very unusual—not since you started working here, come to think of it.’

  With an effort, Ashley kept her face blank. Even more hurtful than the thought that he hadn’t bothered to tell her he was going was the realisation that Jack had a whole different life about which she knew precisely nothing.

  But of course he did! What did she expect? That he should be languishing here, isolated from the world, just waiting for someone like her to walk into his life? He had money, connections and a faintly glamorous profession, which he didn’t even need to do because he was independently rich through his inheritance. Of course he had another life!

  She tried to concentrate on his novel, which had now reached a nail-biting section involving some undercover work which was leading up towards a bloody ambush. But the work which she’d previously found so engrossing had lost something of its appeal and it wouldn’t take a genius to work out why.

  She missed the dark force of Jack’s character as he sat working on the other side of the room. She missed the conversations they would have over their morning coffee. The way he would sometimes look up and the light from his dark eyes would pierce through her like a laser beam. And she missed feeling singled out by him—as if he thought she was somehow special. Mealtimes were dull without him and she felt like an imposter—as if she had no legitimate reason to be there. And the house felt empty—as if it had lost its heart and soul.

  With spare time on her hands, she began to wonder whether Jack had been right and whether she was the world’s biggest hypocrite. Because she had wanted him to make love to her and yet had denied it—even to herself. She had responded to him with all the passion of a woman and then run away like a frightened little girl. Had she been so scared of her own feelings that she didn’t dare risk it—or was she just guarding herself against the possibility of being hurt by him?

  She missed him more than she had thought it was possible to miss anyone. And then one morning she had to dodge round one of the cleaners, who was polishing the oak floor in the hall, and when she walked into the kitchen Ashley saw Christine bustling around on a day when she wasn’t supposed to be working.

  ‘Hello! I didn’t know you were coming in today,’ Ashley said.

  The housekeeper put down the cookery book she’d been poring over. ‘No, I wasn’t—but Mr Marchant’s coming back for the weekend!’

  Ashley’s heart began to pound with excitement as she told herself that it didn’t matter that he hadn’t bothered mentioning it to her. The most important thing was that Jack was coming home. Back home—where he belonged. He’d be walking into the study every morning just as he used to—with those dark, clever eyes watching her. Once more, they would spend long days together.

  And if he tried to kiss her again—would it really be the end of the world? What if she just went with the flow and let him make love to her—as most women in her position would have done? Would that be so very wrong, given the feelings she had for him? Maybe it was time to stop acting like a little girl and to embrace all that went with being a woman. Ashley found herself grinning like an idiot as suitable words to express her joy seemed grossly inappropriate. ‘That’s… nice,’ she managed.

  ‘Is it?’ Christine’s tone was disapproving as she reached into the cupboard for some eggs. ‘Not when he suddenly announces he’s bringing people with him—and barely giving me enough time to do the catering.’

  Ashley stilled as an unknown foreboding began to creep over her skin. ‘People?’ she echoed quietly. ‘W-what people?’

  ‘Oh, some of his fancy friends, I expect.’ The housekeeper gave a shrug. ‘Those glamorous types who are a nightmare to cook for—won’t eat dairy, won’t eat wheat—never heard anything like it! That Nicole will probably be among them. She usually is.’

  Ashley’s heartbeat now became dizzyingly erratic. He was bringing people here? Well, of course he was. What had she expected—that he might run it past her first? ‘Really?’ she questioned, in a voice she didn’t quite recognise as her own.

  ‘You would think,’ continued Christine darkly, ‘that he would deal with his other commitments and priorities at home, before he goes gallivanting off to London with all those other women.’

  But Ashley scarcely heard her. Vaguely, she wondered what the housekeeper meant by commitments and priorities—but there were much more pressing issues on her mind. Those other women, Christine had said.

  What women? And who was ‘Nicole’?

  Bile rose in her throat. There she’d been—like a fool—reading everything into that passionate kiss she’d shared with Jack on the moor. Reading everything into it when it had meant nothing to him. A sensual diversion which must have given him a disappointing outcome. Why, he hadn’t been in touch with her since—not once—and he hadn’t even bothered to tell her he was coming back.

  And that he wouldn’t be alone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ACAR door slammed and Ashley’s fingers stilled on the keyboard. She glanced up at the clock, surprised to see that it was after six. So Jack was home at last—bringing all his friends with him.

  Outside, she heard doors slam, closely followed by footsteps, laughter—and throaty feminine giggles. So Christine had been right. A feeling of nausea rose in her throat but she sat as silently as a statue, praying she could stay undiscovered before slipping quietly upstairs when the coast was clear.

  She stayed perfectly quiet until she heard the clip-clopping of high heels mounting the stairs. They were probably going to change for dinner, she thought—the elaborate dinner which Christine had been preparing for most of the afternoon.

  And then the door opened and she felt her heart crashing against her ribs as Jack walked in. It was barely a week since she’d seen him and yet it felt as if a slow year might have passed. Dressed completely in black—close-fitting black jeans and a black cashmere sweater—his tall figure looked dark and imposing. His face was dark too and his expression unfathomable as he shut the door softly behind him.

  Absence made him look startlingly unfamiliar and she tried to study his face objectively—as if it were the first time she’d ever seen it. There were shadows beneath his eyes, which made his expression look brittle, and she found herself thinking how tired he looked. She wanted to turn round and to slide
her arms around his neck. She wanted him to kiss her.

  ‘Hello, Ashley,’ he said softly.

  Ashley drew a deep breath. What would a secretary say to her boss if he hadn’t kissed her? ‘Jack! Hello. Nice to see you!’

  There was a pause and, briefly, his eyes narrowed. ‘You’re working very late tonight.’

  ‘Oh, it’s only just gone six and I thought I’d crack on with it,’ she said cheerfully. ‘There’s a lot which needs to be done—you made masses of changes in the middle section, the bit where they ambush the enemy camp.’

  ‘How very diligent you are,’ he observed drily.

  ‘That’s what you pay me for, remember?’

  ‘Yes. Of course.’ Another pause. ‘I’d quite forgotten.’

  Ashley hid her hurt behind an impassive smile even though she could feel the tell-tale steal of colour into her cheeks. Now she wanted to be anywhere but here—a million miles from that searching black stare. But she had to show him she didn’t care. That she had put their stolen kiss behind her and she wasn’t going to refer to it ever again. Their boss and employee relationship was back to where it should have been all along—on a purely professional footing. He had come close to seducing her that day on the moors, and she had had a lucky escape—because it seemed that there were other women all ready and willing to take her place. She would just never give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he had hurt her.

  ‘Did you have a good time in London?’ she questioned politely.

  He made an impatient little sound beneath his breath as all his pent-up desire for her began to spiral up, astonished to find that his hunger for her hadn’t abated—despite his determination that it should. Despite the fact that she had pushed him away and that deep down he kept telling himself that it had been the best possible outcome for everyone. But knowing that did nothing to quieten the insistent thudding of his heart—or the sudden jerk of lust at his groin. His gaze swept over her face, taking in the unadorned eyelashes and the bare lips. ‘You look pale.’

  ‘I do?’

  ‘Very pale. Pale as chalk. Are you… okay?’

  It was a veiled question and she quietened down the terrible urge to flare at him. To tell him that no, of course she wasn’t okay. He had walked away from her as if she meant nothing and then replaced her with those giggling women she’d just heard arriving. But jealousy had no valid place in her life—even if their relationship had merited such feelings. Jealousy only ever harmed the person who expressed it. There was absolutely no point feeling jealous about a man like Jack. He operated in a different world—a different universe. Resolutely, she shook her head. ‘No. Nothing’s wrong.’

  ‘No?’ He put his head to one side and regarded her—a sudden mischief playing in his eyes. ‘Did you miss me?’

  Ashley bit her lip. That was so unfair. The question was as inappropriate as it was provocative and surely it was designed to embarrass both of them. Swallowing down the sadness and regret which had risen in her throat, she prayed her expression wouldn’t give the game away. But what could she say other than a variation of the truth when Jack was perceptive enough to read an outright lie in her eyes? And she’d look an even bigger fool if he thought she was sulking about what had happened. ‘The house was very quiet without you,’ she said truthfully.

  ‘Not a commendation I’ve ever been given before,’ he commented. ‘So is that a yes, or a no?’

  ‘Maybe it’s a mixture of both.’

  ‘Oh, Ashley—how brutally you wound with your distinctive brand of honesty.’ He gave a brief smile before his gaze flicked over the desk and looked at the neat pages of typescript. ‘Leave that now. It’ll be time for dinner soon.’

  ‘But you’ve brought… friends with you, I understand?’

  ‘Christine’s been gossiping again, I suppose—or was it one of the cleaners?’

  ‘Actually, I heard you all arriving.’

  ‘Of course you did.’ Thoughtfully, he noted the dejected slump of her shoulders. ‘You’ll join us, of course.’

  ‘No, really. I couldn’t. I’ll—’

  ‘You’ll what?’ he interrupted mockingly. ‘Eat a sandwich in the solitude of your room? Or creep into the kitchen and consume the leftovers while we’re drinking our coffee by the fireside?’

  Did this mean she was to be brought out as an example of provincial entertainment to amuse his sophisticated London friends? she wondered. Or was he extracting some cruel form of punishment because she’d turned him down the other day? Silently, her eyes pleaded with him not to continue—but his expression didn’t alter.

  ‘We’ll see you down here at eight,’ he said.

  ‘Is that an order?’

  ‘Yes, it’s an order.’ His black eyes met hers. ‘You respond very well to direction, I’ve found.’

  ‘And what if I told you that I’m not very hungry?’

  ‘I’d say it was irrelevant. Since when did hunger ever really play a part at dinner parties? I want you there—so go and get changed, Ashley, and I’ll see you later.’

  And with this, he strode from the study, leaving Ashley feeling flustered and slightly rebellious. Could she get out of going? For a moment she was tempted—until she realised she had no choice other than to fall in with his plans. A refusal to attend might look like defiance and somehow she knew that he wouldn’t let her get away with it. She could easily imagine him storming up to her room and haranguing her until she complied with his wishes. Reluctantly, she went upstairs to shower and when she came out of the bathroom she could hear squeals of female laughter coming from the floor below.

  Surveying the meagre contents of her wardrobe, she gave a grimace. She didn’t own the kind of clothes which were suitable for a fancy dinner in a millionaire home and she pulled out the only dress which was halfway presentable. It was her ‘best’ dress and she’d chosen it mainly because it was so quiet and unmemorable that she could wear it lots of times without people realising they’d seen it before.

  In soft grey silk, it skimmed her body rather than clinging to it, and she wore it with a single rope of fake pearls. As always, she scooped her hair off her face, but she left the style slightly softer than usual. Because while Jack might have gone out of his way to remind her that she was a member of staff, she didn’t want to look as if she were about to start taking dictation!

  Rarely had she felt so stricken with nerves as she went downstairs towards the sound of animated chatter. She kept telling herself that she had faced far worse in her life than a smart dinner party full of strangers. What about all the times she’d been sent to new foster parents—before becoming painfully aware that they were taking her in solely to earn themselves some extra money? And what about the times she’d seen disappointment on the faces of her newest ‘family’—when they realised that the mousey little orphan they’d been allotted was lacking in any attractive characteristics?

  ‘Ah, Ashley. Here you are.’ Jack looked up as she walked into the room and his eyes narrowed—leaving her wondering if her choice of outfit was an appalling one.

  Judging by those worn by the other two women, it might well be because she felt like some mediocre shadow in comparison. A statuesque brunette was shimmering in a thigh-skimming scarlet silk dress which complemented her long nails, while a cool blonde wore a shade of blue which perfectly matched her eyes. There was only one other person present—an elegant man with dark russet hair and an expression of mischief on his face. The three of them looked up and smiled at Ashley, and she did her best to smile back.

  Jack stepped towards her and propelled her forward, his hand resting briefly at the small of her back—as if he was afraid that she might simply turn tail and run away again. And Ashley couldn’t prevent her shiver of recognition as she felt him touch her. Did he remember the way they had kissed the other day, she wondered—or was kissing a woman no big deal to a man like him?

  His brilliant black eyes gleamed down at her. ‘Ashley—let me introduce you to everyone. This i
s Kate.’

  ‘Hi, Ashley,’ said the blonde, in a soft, Scottish accent.

  ‘And this is.’ he paused as the knockout brunette glanced up at him and smiled ‘… Nicole.’

  At this, Nicole’s smile became warmer. ‘Hello, Ashley—Jack’s told us all about you.’

  ‘He has?’

  ‘He certainly has. Says you’re the only secretary who’s never grumbled about his handwriting.’

  ‘That’s because I promised her a bonus if she didn’t,’ said Jack, and they all laughed.

  But Ashley’s smile felt forced—even though she prayed it didn’t look that way. Why had he insisted she make an appearance? Things were bound to be difficult after what had happened between them and surely this would only make them worse. Didn’t he realise that she felt out of place among his rich and elegant friends—no matter how friendly they seemed? And it didn’t help that he looked absolutely amazing in a black dinner suit which seemed designed to emphasise the broad shoulders and long legs.

  She wished that she could wave a magic wand and find herself somewhere else—but what choice did she have other than to stick it out with good grace? Dazzled by the circlet of emeralds strung around Nicole’s slender neck, she realised that leaving now would do her no good except to make her look like an idiot instead of just feeling like one. She was going to have to endure this meal no matter how uncomfortable it might be—and she was going to have to do so with a certain amount of dignity. She turned to the russet-haired man with the mischief in his eyes and gave him a polite smile.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t think Jack mentioned your name.’

  The man laughed. ‘Then he should have his knuckles rapped for a lack of etiquette, shouldn’t he? My name’s Barry Connally and I’m delighted to meet you. You deserve a medal for working for someone as irascible as this brute—but in the absence of a medal, you’d better have a glass of champagne instead.’