The Temptation Trap

by Catherine George

  His jaw tightened. ‘You’re imagining things. We parted by mutual consent.’

  ‘You mean you ran a mile when she mentioned marriage!’ she retorted.

  Ewen’s bloodshot eyes glittered dangerously. ‘We merely agreed to disagree on the subject. Like you, Nicola’s hooked on getting married. To someone else these days, as it happens—a nice, nine-to-five kind of guy who’ll make her a lot happier than I ever did.’

  ‘You obviously keep up with her, then.’

  He shrugged. ‘Her sister married my cousin. I can’t fail to keep up.’

  ‘I like her,’ said Rosanna.

  ‘Oddly enough, so do I.’ Ewen looked at her challengingly. ‘Right. Now we’ve disposed of Nicola, let’s talk about what happened in the lift.’

  Rosanna’s heart gave a thud against her shirt. ‘I’m not angry about that,’ she said carefully. ‘It was my fault, anyway.’

  His eyebrows shot up to his hair. ‘Your fault!’

  She nodded glumly. ‘I was hysterical, you comforted me, and the inevitable happened.’ She managed a smile. ‘A good thing the power came back just then.’

  Ewen’s eyes locked with hers. ‘What would have happened if it hadn’t?’

  ‘I refuse to think about that.’

  ‘Whereas I can’t stop thinking about it.’

  ‘If I’m honest neither can I, but for a different reason.’ Her eyes glittered. ‘You’re a very practised lover, Ewen Fraser. And after seeing you in action yesterday it’s easy to see how you acquired such skill.’

  His jaw clenched. ‘What happened between you and me, Rosanna, owed nothing to skill. It was sheer magic.’

  ‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ she said cuttingly.

  ‘Actually I don’t. Or didn’t, if we’re to use the correct tense.’ Ewen moved closer. ‘Since meeting you, Rosanna, I’ve had no contact with other women of any kind. It’s the honest truth. Do you believe me?’

  She frowned, secretly shaken to find she really did believe him. ‘It doesn’t really matter whether I do or not, does it? I’m committed to someone else. As you said, I’m the marrying kind. Which makes my behaviour a lot worse than yours. I’m sorry I was so—so shameless in the lift yesterday. I’ve never behaved like that before in my life.’

  ‘Never?’ Ewen raised a mocking eyebrow and stood up. ‘Don’t worry, it won’t happen again unless—’

  ‘Unless what?’ she demanded.

  ‘Unless we get stuck in a lift again, I suppose,’ he said negligently. ‘In the meantime, Rosanna, you’re in no danger. My brute instincts are safe under lock and key once more.’

  Over the next few days Rosanna began to doubt they’d ever get back to their previous, effortless rapport. Admittedly there’d always been an undercurrent beneath the friendly surface, a frisson that added an extra dimension to their working relationship. But these days the air literally crackled with tension during their brief dealings together. It was a relief when Ewen went out to lunch with his agent one day the following week. Rosanna was glad to be free of his brooding presence, which disturbed her even when he was shut away upstairs in his study. She was left in peace all day. There was no sign of Ewen by the time she was ready to go. Some lunch, she thought huffily, and went home on the stroke of six for once.

  Next morning Rosanna arrived early. And wished she hadn’t. As she turned into the mews she caught a glimpse of Ewen embracing a woman who got into a taxi as Rosanna dodged out of sight and stayed there, heart pounding, until the coast was clear. This was ridiculous, she told herself bitterly, trying to calm down. Ewen Fraser was a virile male who attracted women like flies. His sex life was nothing to do with Rosanna Carey. To accustom herself to this line of thinking she went for a walk, fighting the searing jealousy she had no right to. Something, it was obvious, had to be done about it. The moment Ewen’s first draft was finished she was off to Boston.

  When she could face going back to the house Rosanna apologised to Ewen for her late arrival, but to her surprise Ewen greeted her with something like his old, friendly manner. A night spent in feminine company had obviously done wonders for his frame of mind, she thought bitterly. Rosanna soon found she had cause to be grateful to the lady. Diplomatic relations, it seemed, had been resumed.

  But as the day wore on she recognised a faint but definite withdrawal on Ewen’s part, as though he’d drawn a demarcation line between them. Now he had another woman, it seemed, things would be different. Rosanna was proved right. In the period that followed Ewen worked harder than ever before, ate his lunch at his desk, and no longer asked her to stay for a drink some evenings when it was time to go home. Which was all to the good, Rosanna told herself firmly. She’d been in danger of getting too close to Ewen Fraser. Her future lay with David. Not, she thought morosely, that Ewen had ever professed interest in her future. He’d made it plain he just wanted a brief, physical love affair in the present. And even that stemmed from her resemblance to Rose.

  The Careys duly returned from Australia, full of their trip, and eager for news of Rosanna’s work for Ewen Fraser, and after spending a few days in Ealing with them Rosanna moved back into the flat with Louise, the reluctant Paula having at last found somewhere else to live.

  After a couple of weeks of almost constant rain July turned hot and sunny, and Rosanna soon found the confines of the basement flat claustrophobic and stuffy. Ewen’s house enjoyed the luxury of air-conditioning, and at the height of the sudden heatwave Rosanna found it an effort to leave each evening. She was sleeping badly, and life with the bouncy Louise was proving less easy to cope with after a break away from it. She was getting old before her time, her friend said crossly.

  The melancholy truth, Rosanna admitted bleakly, was that these days she just didn’t seem to belong anywhere. She’d flown the Ealing nest long ago, but now she also seemed to have grown out of the life once enjoyed to the full with Louise. It was just a phase, she assured herself. She just needed a holiday in Boston.

  ‘You look very pale,’ said Ewen, one Friday night.

  ‘It’s the heat.’ Rosanna smiled. ‘The flat’s stuffy in this weather. It’s shrunk in some mysterious way during my time away from it.’

  ‘You’re obviously not sleeping well.’

  ‘The heat again. I yearn for fresh air.’ She sighed. ‘My ambition is to live in the country one day.’ She stacked the day’s output neatly, ready for Ewen to read, then looked up to find him watching her.

  ‘What are you doing this weekend?’ he asked casually.

  Rosanna’s heart missed a beat. ‘Nothing much. Chores and shopping tomorrow. Sunday lunch with my parents, that kind of thing.’

  ‘If you yearn for the country skip the chores and come for a drive tomorrow instead.’ Ewen looked at her squarely. ‘I’ll bring you back any time you say.’

  His lady not available? thought Rosanna.

  ‘It was just a thought,’ he said stiffly. ‘Or are you afraid your doctor would object?’

  ‘On the contrary, he’d be glad I was escaping this heat.’ Rosanna shrugged. ‘If you want the truth I was wondering why you were at a loose end tomorrow.’

  Ewen looked blank. ‘I’m not. No more than any other weekend. I usually work right through. But it’s so hot I fancy a day off.’

  ‘Isn’t your friend free to go with you?’

  ‘My friend,’ he repeated, eyes narrowed. ‘Who do you mean, Rosanna?’

  ‘I saw someone leaving early one morning a few weeks ago, just as I arrived,’ she said reluctantly.

  Ewen stared at her, then smiled slowly in a way which raised Rosanna’s hackles. ‘You were right. It was a friend. Harriet Wallace, my editor, to be exact. She lives nearby so she called round on her way in to work to show me the artwork for the cover.’ His eyes bored into hers. ‘But naturally my famed reputation convinced you she stayed the night with me. If she did her husband would have something to say about it, believe me.’

  Rosanna did believe him, much to her
embarrassment. ‘I apologise,’ she said stiffly. ‘Your private life is absolutely none of my concern.’

  ‘As I told you before, Rosanna,’ he said with quiet emphasis, ‘since I met you I haven’t been out—or in— with any woman. The situation remains unchanged. In every way.’

  Rosanna looked at him in silence for a moment, then gave him an awkward little smile. ‘If the offer still stands I really would love a trip to the country tomorrow.’

  Ewen’s answering smile was the first really genuine one he’d favoured her with in quite a while. ‘Good. In that case, let’s make an early start, get out of town while it’s relatively quiet.’

  ‘Thank you. I’d like that.’

  ‘I’ll come for you at nine, then. Where’s this flat of yours?’ He eyed her quizzically. ‘Or would you rather I didn’t pick you up there?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said quickly, and gave him the address. Louise was away for the weekend, so the outing with Ewen would go unremarked upon anyway, but she saw no reason to tell him that.

  ‘Are you in a rush to get home, or would you like a drink?’ asked Ewen, surprising her even more.

  ‘No, and yes, please, in that order,’ she said quickly, deeply relieved that they were back on a friendly footing again. And with the news that the mystery blonde was not Nicola Blake, as she’d suspected, her spirits rose even further. For the first time since the fateful Sunday of the storm they sat talking over the progress of the novel with something like their original ease in each other’s company.

  ‘By the end of next month I should be finished,’ said Ewen, and raised his glass of beer in toast. ‘My editor was impressed. Due to your help I’m much further along than I believed possible at this stage.’

  ‘Good,’ said Rosanna with satisfaction. ‘I’m glad the labourer was worthy of the hire.’

  ‘The description doesn’t suit you much, Rosanna.’ He smiled, leaning back on the sofa opposite her, his long legs stretched out in front of him. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘As usual your hair needs cutting,’ she said frankly, and he let out a crack of laughter.

  ‘You sound like my mother.’

  ‘Good. I like your mother.’

  Ewen smiled. ‘She liked you, too. You made a good impression on both my parents.’

  ‘It was mutual. I liked your grandmother, too.’ But thoughts of the birthday party led to memories of what happened afterwards, and Rosanna downed the last of her drink and stood up. ‘That was lovely, but I must be on my way. The taxi will be here any minute.’

  ‘Anywhere special you’d like to go tomorrow?’ he asked.

  ‘As long as it’s leafy and green and cool I’ll be happy,’ she said cheerfully, and collected her belongings as the doorbell rang. ‘I’m away. Thanks for the drink.’

  ‘I’ll see you in the morning, then. Nine sharp for the magical mystery tour,’ said Ewen, walking to the door with her.

  Rosanna smiled at him, and went out into the breathless, hot evening feeling a lot happier than of late. David, she decided without guilt, could spare her one harmless drive into the country.

  Rosanna woke early next morning after the first good night’s sleep she’d had for weeks. And her reflection in the bathroom mirror looked very different from the hurried, harassed creature who normally rushed past it in the mornings.

  The day was already hot, and instead of jeans Rosanna decided on the rose-printed blue skirt with a sleeveless cream silk shirt, and carried a linen jacket just in case the weather decided to change. When her bell rang shortly before nine she locked up, then ran upstairs to the front door, where Ewen was waiting for her, in familiar pale khakis and a thin yellow shirt.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said, eyeing her. ‘You look a lot different from the girl who went home last night.’

  ‘Sleep is the best beauty aid there is,’ she told him blithely as they hurried to the space Ewen had found for the Morgan. ‘I’m amazed you left her here all alone,’ she teased.

  ‘It wasn’t easy!’ Ewen patted the gleaming dark green bonnet lovingly, then got in the car. ‘Right, then. Let’s go. Did you bring a scarf?’

  She shook her head. ‘I want the wind in my hair.’

  The trip began with the inevitable drive along a motorway, and after an hour or so of heading west Ewen told her they were making for deepest Gloucestershire. Content to let Ewen conduct her on this mystery trip he’d promised, Rosanna sat back in her seat and prepared to enjoy the cloudless day and her escape from the city.

  ‘Do you want the hood up?’ shouted Ewen, eyeing her streaming hair, but Rosanna shook her head.

  ‘This is wonderful,’ she assured him, though she was glad, eventually, when Ewen left the motorway. They passed through villages alive with Saturday bustle, and eventually took a turning down a road so narrow, trees mingled their branches overhead, forming a shady green tunnel for a while until the trees on one side gave way to a stone wall which lined the road as far as the eye could see.

  ‘Cooler now?’ asked Ewen.

  Rosanna nodded blissfully. ‘Am I allowed to ask where we are yet?’

  ‘On the outskirts of Long Ashley, but we don’t go as far as the village itself. In fact we’ve arrived.’ Ewen slowed the car and turned through gates which stood open at a break in the wall, then parked outside a solid stone cottage which had obviously once been the gate-house of some large residence. There was a small garden in the front, fragrant with rose and lavender, and she gazed at the house in silence for a moment.

  ‘Is this our destination?’ she asked Ewen warily. ‘Are you springing me on another unsuspecting relative?’

  ‘In a way, yes.’ He got out and came round the car to offer Rosanna his hand, smiling down into her suspicious face.

  ‘Who lives here, then?’ she demanded, sliding out of the car.

  ‘I do. At weekends sometimes, or when the city gets too much. You were in need of fresh country air, so I thought you’d like to see my retreat.’

  Rosanna eyed the house with respect. ‘Your books must sell very well!’

  ‘I didn’t buy the cottage, the Brigadier left it to me. He spent the last few years of his life here.’ Ewen opened the small iron gate and ushered her through it. ‘Come and explore.’

  Rosanna followed him along the short, gravelled path, eyeing the cottage covetously. Ewen unlocked the front door on a narrow hall with walls painted pale gold, high Victorian covings and a dado rail picked out in white. Ewen took her on a brief tour of small, high-ceilinged rooms with large bay windows to give the illusion of space. Unlike Ewen’s uncluttered flat the house was filled with old pine furniture, comfortable sofas, shelves filled with blue and white porcelain, framed photographs on tables, and pictures grouped together on every available inch of wall space.

  ‘There must have been a good fairy at your christening, Ewen Fraser,’ said Rosanna with an envious sigh. ‘This is just lovely. Is it your taste, or Harry’s?’

  ‘A blend of both. This is one of five lodges dotted round the estate of a big country house. These days the house is a conference centre, and all the cottages are privately owned.’ Ewen led the way through a small, functional kitchen to a conservatory which wrapped around the back of the house. ‘My first priorities were a new bed, and modernising the bathroom and kitchen. This was finished only recently.’

  Rosanna was consumed with envy as she gazed through the conservatory windows at Ewen’s back garden. Colourful herbaceous borders surrounded a small lawn shaded by a tall hedge, where a central iron gate opened on a large vegetable garden beyond.

  Ewen grinned at the look on her face. ‘Before you ask, a man from the village does the gardening. Bob’s plot is much smaller, so he grows what he likes here, and gives me a few vegetables now and then. I pay him to see to the rest, and his daughter comes in to clean once a week to top up her pocket money. The arrangement works very well.’

  Rosanna was impressed as they walked round the garden. ‘So this is
where the broad beans came from. No wonder they tasted so good.’

  ‘Let’s have some coffee, and you can tell me how you’d like to spend the rest of the day.’ Ewen looked down at her as they strolled back to the house. ‘Or are you going out tonight? Do you need to be back early?’

  ‘No.’ Far from leaving early, Rosanna wanted to stay in this enchanted place as long as possible.

  They took their coffee into the conservatory, where Rosanna relaxed in a long wicker chaise with the newspaper Ewen handed her. Using it as a shield, she studied Ewen’s absorbed, clever face covertly, and made a vow. No more days like this. It was too unsettling. Ewen’s cottage was her dream of a country home made reality. Whereas her future would inevitably involve a town with a hospital prestigious enough to offer David Norton the type of post he was working towards.

  ‘The pub in the village does a decent meal,’ said Ewen, breaking into her thoughts. ‘Fancy a stroll?’

  ‘Sounds good,’ said Rosanna, and swung her feet to the ground, smiling brightly. ‘I’ll just run upstairs and tidy up first, please.’

  ‘Don’t take too long,’ he warned. ‘The Rose and Crown gets packed on Saturdays.’

  Upstairs Rosanna peeped into a spare room empty except for a chair and a battered desk, but the dominant feature in the master bedroom was a large bed with a carved headboard. The tall bay window was hung with dark blue curtains looped back with thick white ropes, and a plain, wood-framed mirror surmounted a solid pine table where Rose smiled her sweet, seductive smile from a silver frame.

  Rosanna gazed for a moment, stung by a sudden pang of pure jealousy, then she gave a wry smile of apology to the photograph and went into the small bathroom, where Ewen’s taste was very much in evidence. The exterior of a reclaimed cast-iron hip bath had been painted terracotta to match the walls, with a white venetian blind on the tall window, and every inch of free space lined with books.

  ‘I like your bathroom,’ she said, when she rejoined Ewen downstairs.