Wild Justice

by Joanna Mansell

  Cassandra gave a small shiver, and wasn't at all certain that it was because the water in the bath had lost much of its heat by now.

  'I'd appreciate it if you'd leave, and let me get dried and dressed,' she said stiffly.

  'Such politeness,' he mocked softly. 'Why don't you just tell me to get out?'

  'Because I've tried rudeness, and it doesn't work,' came her tense retort. 'I thought I'd try a little courtesy for a change, and see if that got any results. Obviously, it doesn't make the slightest bit of difference,' she went on, flinging an angry glance at him. 'You intend to be as objectionable as possible. You're really getting a kick out of keeping me here, aren't you? You do realise it's sick? A really disgusting way of getting a cheap thrill?'

  This time, she finally got a response. Jared strode further into the room, grabbed one of the towels, and flung it at her.

  'Wrap that round you,' he ordered.

  She stared at him apprehensively. 'Why?'

  'Because I want you out of that bath. And now.'

  Cassandra's eyes flashed at him. 'Are you sure you want me to bother with the towel?' she taunted.

  His brief flare of temper had passed, though. His tone was perfectly cool again when he answered her.

  'Personally, I don't give a damn if you're stark naked, or clothed from head to toe. But if you're not out of that bath in five seconds, I'll drag you out myself.'

  Remembering how strong his fingers had felt when they had gripped her earlier, and pulled her into his car, Cassandra resentfully obeyed. Right at this moment, she fiercely loathed this man for taking away her independence, her freedom of choice. He was making her feel like a young child who had no option except to obey the orders of an all-powerful adult.

  Holding the towel in front of her like a screen, she managed to get out of the bath without showing more than a few inches of bare arms and legs. Then she fastened it firmly under her arms, and was grateful that it was long enough to hide virtually her whole body.

  She lifted her head and stared at Jared defiantly. 'What now?'

  'A little demonstration—just to put your mind at rest.'

  'What kind of demonstration?' There was a. definite note of wariness in her voice now.

  'Just something to convince you that you'll be perfectly safe, no matter how long I decide to keep you here.'

  He came a step closer, and she instantly backed away.

  'Frightened of me?' he taunted quietly. 'But that's what this is all about, Cassandra. To prove to you that you don't have any grounds for those kind of fears.'

  She still kept backing away, though.

  'Stay where you are,' Jared ordered.

  To her amazement, she instantly obeyed. What on earth was the matter with her? she wondered, with a first touch of confusion. Why was she beginning to feel an awful compulsion to do exactly as this man instructed?

  Jared moved forward again, so that he was standing only inches away from her. His silver gaze ran over her objectively, and it was quite impossible to guess what he was thinking.

  'You're a very beautiful girl, Cassandra,' he said at last. There was no inflection in his voice, though, no trace of any recognisable emotion. He might have been talking about some statue that he found aesthetically pleasing, but which didn't move him in any other way.

  'I've been told that before,' she replied evenly. It was true. She wasn't a vain girl, but she knew perfectly well that her combination of pale gold hair and violet eyes always drew male attention. Her thin, elegant body was an extra bonus. Dressed or undressed, she always looked good. Sometimes it was an asset, and sometimes it was a nuisance, drawing a lot of unwanted male attention.

  Was that what was going to happen now? she wondered uneasily. And yet, strangely, although Jared was standing so close and studying her with blatant openness, she didn't feel any real sense of threat.

  'Quite a few men must have kissed you,' he remarked.

  'I don't see that's any of your damn business,' she flared back at him.

  'I think that it is, since you're obviously expecting me to do exactly the same.'

  'I am not—'

  'Yes, you are,' Jared replied calmly. 'So perhaps it would be better to get it over and done with, right now—'

  He had barely finished speaking before he moved forward and covered her lips with his own. Cassandra briefly flinched at their coolness, and then started to struggle. His touch was firm, though, and after an unexpectedly short time she became still again, telling herself that she might as well let him do what he wanted, and be done with it as quickly as possible. Her own submissiveness astounded her. She usually retaliated quite savagely when men came on to her against her will. She couldn't stand being mauled, and had been to self-defence classes to learn several painful ways of making sure that they backed off again pretty quickly.

  With Jared Sinclair, though, she simply stood there as his mouth moved over hers, exploring in an almost disinterested manner. One of his hands rested lightly on her shoulder, as if to steady her, but apart from that he wasn't touching her. His breathing remained steady, his skin was cool, and she had the distinct impression that he was finding the whole thing about as arousing as brushing his teeth.

  To her alarm, she found that she was the one who was beginning to get flustered. There was an odd tightness in her chest, her legs were starting to feel shaky, and there was a growing warmth in the pit of her stomach.

  Before she had time to get into a total panic over her reaction, though, Jared had lifted his head and moved back from her.

  'Get the message?' he said, in a conversational tone. 'I'm not interested. You don't have to lock your door against me, or run away when you see me coming. You're not in any danger from any kind of sexual assault.'

  Cassandra still found it hard to believe. Men had always been interested in her, ever since her early teens. Jared was already walking away, though, leaving her standing there with a lot of very confused thoughts rushing through her head.

  It wasn't until he had actually left the room that she found herself able to think clearly again. And, once her head started to straighten itself out, she was quite appalled at the way she had reacted. Had he noticed? Worse than that, had he got the impression that she was actually interested in him? Oh, God, she hoped not! That really would be the final humiliation.

  She was tired, she told herself a little desperately. That was all. It had been a long day—and a crazy day. In the morning, she would feel more like herself again. And she would definitely find some way of getting away from here. She didn't intend to sit meekly around until Jared finally deigned to let her go.

  Her legs still feeling infuriatingly weak, she slowly made her way upstairs to her room. It felt like an icebox. Wishing she had packed warm pyjamas instead of a cotton nightie, she quickly undressed and jumped into bed, shivering as the cold sheets touched her skin.

  The rain was still pelting against the windows, and the wind was rising now, making the ill-fitting frames rattle. Oh, great! she thought to herself irritably. It was just what her frayed nerves needed.

  Then, through all the other sounds, came one which was quite unmistakable. The sharp click of a lock, as a key was turned.

  Cassandra immediately sat up in bed and stared at the door. Surely he wouldn't dare—? She quickly pushed back the sheets, and padded over to the door. One turn of the handle was enough to confirm that she hadn't imagined it. He had locked her in!

  Furiously, she rattled the handle, and then banged on the door itself. 'Damn it, you can't do this!' she yelled angrily.

  There was no reply, and she guessed he had gone straight back to his own room. She could shout and thump on the door all night, but it wouldn't make the slightest difference. No one would hear her, and no one would come to let her out.

  She trailed back to bed, filled with disbelief that all of this was actually happening to her, Cassandra Gregory. Although totally drained by the incredible events of the day, she found it impossible to sleep. Sh
e dozed fitfully a couple of times, but kept being woken up again by the rattling window-frames, or the howling of the wind through the pine trees behind the house. And a couple of times she thought she could hear someone coughing. Jared? She supposed it had to be, because he was the only other person in the house. Good, she thought savagely, she hoped he had caught his death of a cold out in that rain this afternoon!

  Towards dawn, she finally slid into a deeper sleep. When she dreamed, though, it was of Jared Sinclair's kiss, and she moved restlessly in the bed for a while before finally becoming still again, and sleeping peacefully until late in the morning.

  CHAPTER THREE

  When she opened her eyes, Cassandra was astonished to find the room filled with sunshine. Blinking a little in the bright light, she crawled out of bed and went over to look out of the window.

  The sky was a bright and beautiful blue, the water of the loch sparkled, and, instead of being grey and rainswept, the mountains were mottled with gorgeous shades of green and russet. With her eye for colour, Cassandra could appreciate the subtle hues, and the darker dapplings of amethyst from the irregular patches of fading heather.

  'A definite improvement on yesterday,' she murmured to herself. 'A few more days like this, and I might even get to like it around here.'

  Then she remembered everything that had happened yesterday—remembered the final ignominy of being locked in her room last night—and her face darkened again. While she was being kept here against her will, there was no way she would ever look on this place favourably.

  Was she still locked in? she wondered. There was only one way to find out. She went over to the door, tried it, and found that it opened immediately. Cassandra scowled. It didn't alter the fact that it had been locked last night, shutting her in like some naughty schoolgirl who had to be punished.

  Quickly she dressed, and then brushed the pale, straight fall of her hair. She was still angry. On top of that, though, she was also starving hungry. She couldn't remember when she had last eaten.

  She made her way down to the kitchen, and even as she opened the door the delicious smell of bacon cooking wafted towards her. Jared was standing at the stove, expertly breaking eggs into a pan. As she came in, he glanced round.

  'Hungry?'

  'Yes,' she said, hating to admit it. Then, not forgetting her main grievance, she rounded on him. 'How dared you lock me in my room last night?'

  'I didn't want you wandering off in the middle of the night and getting lost in the mountains,' he replied calmly. 'They're treacherous enough in the daytime, let alone after dark.'

  'I wouldn't do anything that stupid.'

  'Wouldn't you? I got the impression that you were so determined to get away from here that you'd take just about any risk. It was for your own safety that I locked you in.'

  'And do you intend to do the same thing every night?' she demanded. 'For my own safety, of course,' she added with heavy sarcasm.

  'That rather depends.'

  'On what?'

  'On whether you'll give me your word that you won't leave the house after dark.'

  'Of course I will,' she said promptly, telling herself that she needn't feel any compunction about breaking any promises she made to this man.

  His gaze rested on her thoughtfully. 'But can I trust you to keep that promise? You are a Gregory.'

  Cassandra's eyes became cold. 'And what's that supposed to mean?'

  'I just wondered if you'd inherited many of your father's less pleasant traits,' he replied, in that same cool voice. 'Including the capacity to lie through your teeth whenever it suits you.'

  'My father doesn't lie!'

  'Then we don't seem to be talking about the same man,' came Jared's hard reply. 'Because the Randolph Gregory that I knew would lie, cheat and blackmail without a moment's compunction.'

  Scorn instantly showed in Cassandra's violet-blue gaze. 'I don't believe you. And I think it's a pretty disgusting thing to do, blaming someone else because you were too inefficient, too incompetent, to keep your business going!'

  More than anything else she had ever said to him, that seemed to strike a raw nerve. The quicksilver eyes blazed into sudden life, his entire body tensed, and he actually took a couple of steps forward before he seemed to realise what he was doing, and stood still again.

  He took a deep breath, and gradually the light in his eyes died away, leaving the unemotional expression to which she had become accustomed.

  'You should be very grateful that I'm not a violent man,' he told her in a voice that was completely under control again now.

  'Not violent?' she scoffed. 'Then what do you call what you've done to me these last twenty-four hours?'

  'Have you been hurt in any way?' he challenged immediately. 'Have I done anything to physically injure you?'

  For some reason, she found herself remembering that kiss he had given her last night. Didn't that count as an injury? she told herself rebelliously. Forcing himself on her like that? Yet, for some reason, she stopped herself from saying it out loud. After all, she excused herself reluctantly, he hadn't actually been rough. And he certainly hadn't tried to take it any further than that one kiss.

  'There are different ways of hurting people,' she muttered at last.

  An icy smile touched the corners of Jared's mouth. 'I'm glad that you understand that,' he said softly.

  'Oh, yes, I forgot,' she said, with some bitterness. 'You're trying to hurt my father—through me.'

  'It seemed the most effective way,' he agreed.

  'And it doesn't matter that I'm suffering, as well? And all because of something that's nothing to do with me, that isn't even my fault?'

  'You know the old saying about "the sins of the fathers",' Jared reminded her. 'And it doesn't seem to me that you're suffering too badly. Your pride's taken a bit of a knock, of course. And since you've always been pampered, you're not enjoying the fact that you're having to put up with a few physical discomforts. But suffering? No, Miss Cassandra Gregory, I don't think that anyone could say that you were actually suffering,' he finished, a trifle grimly.

  'Then what am I meant to do?' she demanded. 'Look on this as some sort of holiday?'

  He shrugged. 'That's entirely up to you. You can make the best of the situation, or you can sit in your room and sulk all day. It makes no difference to me.'

  'You really are incredible,' she said, with a disbelieving shake of her head. 'And what exactly are you getting out of this pathetic little charade?'

  'Justice,' he said simply. 'A sense of justice.'

  'And are you enjoying it?' came her contemptuous reply.

  'No, I'm not enjoying it,' he answered in an expressionless voice. 'I find there's very little that actually gives me any pleasure these days, but I am getting a certain sense of satisfaction.'

  'Satisfaction? Or revenge?' she challenged.

  ' "Revenge is a kind of wild justice",' he quoted back at her. 'I want your father to know exactly what it feels like to lose something of irreplaceable value. Do you think he's beginning to miss you by now?' he goaded softly. 'Do you suppose he's already begun to worry, made efforts to try and find out where you are?'

  Cassandra knew that it was entirely possible. Her father was in touch most days, on the phone if not in person. When he found she wasn't at her office, he would immediately ring her flat. And when he didn't get any reply there—

  'This whole thing's sick,' she said, in a suddenly helpless voice. 'What kind of man are you, to do something like this?'

  'Perhaps I've turned into the same kind of man as your father,' answered Jared with a cruel smile. 'Wouldn't that be a fine joke, if we finally had something in common?'

  'I'm not laughing,' she flung back at him in a choked voice.

  'And neither was I, when I lost my company,' he said, his tone abruptly changing and taking on a dark note that sent an icy quiver right down her spine. 'Nor were all the others who lost their companies in exactly the same way.'

  That made h
er lift her head sharply. 'What others?'

  'Did you think that was the first time your father pulled that particular little trick?' he shot at her in disgust. 'How do you suppose Randolph Gregory managed to put together his vast empire? A man who started with virtually nothing, and who's only a very mediocre businessman, with very little flair or imagination?'

  'He's got where he is by sheer hard work,' Cassandra defended him. 'All right, so he's had a little luck along the way, but that's the way it goes.'

  'The only "luck" he's had is what he's deliberately created! He leans on people, threatens to cut off vital contracts if they don't go along with him, uses the powerful financial connections he's built up to manoeuvre people into corners from which there's no escape—except the route that he offers them.'

  'What you're saying is that he's a criminal,' Cassandra cried hotly. 'If you believe that, then you should take him to court! Let the law decide who's telling the truth.'

  'Do you think I didn't try?' Jared growled. 'Only, to take someone to court, you have to have tangible proof. And your father always makes very sure there's never any of that. Skilful accounting, pressure on certain people so that they won't talk—he's had a lot of practice at that sort of thing. Even if you could begin to unravel all of it, my guess is that he's made absolutely certain that it won't lead directly back to him. A lot of people might eventually end up in gaol—but not your father.'

  'Why should he?' she flashed back. 'As far as I'm concerned, he's done nothing wrong. The only person who says he has is you—and you're totally biased, because you lost out to him in a business deal.'

  Jared seemed about to say something more. At the last moment, though, he gave a small shrug and turned away, as if he couldn't be bothered to argue about it any more.

  'You're obviously not interested in the truth,' he said. 'But then, why should you be? You were born and raised a Gregory, and you've spent the last twenty-two years enjoying all the luxuries your father's wheelings and dealings could provide for you. You obviously don't want to do anything to put that at risk, and maybe lose your very comfortable life-style.'