Lovestorm (Harlequin Treasury 1990's)

by Jennifer Taylor

  Lovestorm

  Jennifer Taylor

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  THERE were lights on all over the house. They spilled from the windows and chased away the shadows from the driveway, offering a welcome to all who were invited that night.

  Jacob Hunt was entertaining, giving one of his renowned dinner parties. She could picture it now, the huge dining-room with its heavy oak furniture, the crystal and glass sparkling on the long table. The guests would be a mix of the rich and famous, the intellectual and witty, the very best that society could offer. That was why she had chosen tonight to come.

  There was no hesitation as she rang the bell. She had made her plans carefully and knew what had to be done. Now it was a relief to get here and set them in motion.

  ‘Good evening—Miss Helen!’

  She felt an echo of the man’s surprise but managed to hide it, forcing a smile as she walked through the open door. She hadn’t known that Baxter was still here, but should have guessed. Jacob had wanted it all and now he had it, right down to the smallest detail.

  ‘Good evening, Baxter. How are you?’

  ‘Er—very well, thank you, Miss Helen.’ The man glanced uncertainly over his shoulder then quickly recovered his composure. ‘Mr Hunt is with guests at present. May I show you into the sitting-room while I inform him that you are here?’

  ‘No, thank you, Baxter. That won’t be necessary.’ She brushed past him, her footsteps echoing as she crossed the hall and pushed the dining-room door open. They were all there, just as she’d imagined it. If she had set her mind to it she could have recognised most of the faces which turned towards her but she was interested only in one face, one man.

  He was sitting at the head of the table, a glass of wine held in one lean hand. Under the glowing light from the chandeliers his hair shone a rich blue-black, his tanned skin gleamed. He was twenty-eight now but looked older. There was experience etched on that harshly carved face and lying in the depths of those deep blue eyes. Jacob Hunt had used every means in his power to get what he wanted and each had left its mark.

  For a moment Helen almost hesitated as fear rose sharp and cold in her breast. She knew what he was capable of, knew what a bitter adversary he was, so had she been a fool to come? How could she hope to strike a blow against a man like him?

  ‘Helen—what a charming surprise. Do join us.’

  If he felt surprised at seeing her he didn’t show it, that deep, smooth voice betraying just a hint of amusement. And that more than anything gave her the strength to carry on.

  She closed the door and walked slowly along the length of the table until she stopped just a foot away from his chair. She could hear the murmurs from the guests, sense their curiosity, and had to hold back a bitter smile. No one seated around this table would ever forget this night!

  ‘A surprise? Come now, Jacob, it can hardly be that. You knew that I would come, surely?’

  Her voice was clear; it rang around the room and cut the conversation dead. She had everyone’s attention now just as she had planned. These friends of Jacob’s whom he had courted with money and deadly charm would soon find out what he was really like.

  He lifted the glass to his lips and drank, watching her steadily over the rim in a way which made a tight little spiral of unease curl inside her. She looked away from those brilliant eyes then cursed herself for the slip when she heard the note in his voice. Jacob was too sharp to miss any sign of weakness. He was a hunter who stalked his prey, knew its weaknesses and vulnerabilities and used them to make the kill. She couldn’t afford that sort of lapse again.

  ‘Perhaps not, but I didn’t expect to see you quite so soon.’ He glanced at his watch then back at her with a faint lift of his brows. ‘You must have come straight from the airport, I imagine.’

  Helen didn’t waste time in answering a question he knew the answer to, her face filled with contempt. ‘You think you are so clever, don’t you? You have it all now: the business, this house, even—’

  ‘Even Richard?’ He laughed out loud, the sound rumbling around the room. ‘Come now, Helen, surely you aren’t going to tell me that you are madly in love with him?’ He shrugged lightly, the cloth of his elegant dinner-jacket straining across his shoulders. He had a superb body, lean and muscular, honed to perfection by years of hard work when he was younger. He still kept himself fit even though he didn’t need to do anything more strenuous than issuing orders. It was just another thing which Helen hated about him.

  ‘I don’t intend to tell you anything, Jacob. How could I? You know all the answers, don’t you? You decided what you wanted and made your plans and now you have it all—everything apart from the clothes on my back, and I believe that you are entitled to them as well.’ She laughed softly, her face very pale against the gleaming red waves of hair which fell past her shoulders, her green eyes glittering almost feverishly. ‘One thing no one can ever accuse me of, Jacob, is not paying my debts!’

  She drew off her leather gloves and tossed them on to the table, then unbuttoned her black cashmere jacket and dropped it on to the floor at Jacob’s feet, her eyes never leaving his. When her hands lifted to the tiny buttons down the front of her black silk dress she heard a woman gasp and felt a rush of elation. It would be all over town tomorrow, all these people he had courted so assiduously would be talking and speculating and Jacob would hate it!

  ‘I think that’s just about enough.’ Jacob’s voice cut through the silence although he had made no attempt to raise it. It was what Helen had anticipated, that Jacob would put a stop to what she was doing; what she hadn’t expected was to hear that note of amusement in his deep voice.

  Her fingers froze on the smooth cool silk, her eyes locked to Jacob as he stood up and smiled down the length of the table. ‘Disappointed though you must all be, I am sure you will understand if I declare this dinner party over. Obviously Helen has gone to some lengths to claim my undivided attention so I feel that is what I must give her.’ He slid a glance over Helen’s rigid figure, his voice dropping to a level of intimacy which brought the colour rushing to her cheeks. ‘I must confess that it won’t be any hardship!’

  There was a moment’s stunned silence then several people laughed as they got to their feet. Helen barely heard the amused remarks or Jacob’s smooth replies as she stared after the departing guests and felt suddenly afraid. This wasn’t what was meant to happen. She had wanted them all to witness what she had planned, wanted to see Jacob humiliated in their eyes, but he had turned the tables on her. It was she who felt humiliated now!

  With a murmur of distress she bent to pick up her jacket but Jacob was there before her, his grip bruising as his fingers closed around her wrists while he hauled her upright. ‘Not leaving so soon, are you, Helen? Not when I have just gone to such lengths to ensure that we can talk without any interruptions?’

  There was something in that deep voice which made her go cold and she struggled wildly to free herself but his hands just tightened, strong fingers bruising her white flesh.

  ‘Let me go, Jacob! You have no right to manhandle me.’

  ‘No?’ He laughed softly, drawing her closer so that she could feel the hardness of his body against hers. ‘You said yourself that I am entitled to the clothes off your back. I think that is an underestimation, Helen. I imagine that I am entitled to a lot m
ore than that!’

  ‘No!’ With a surge of strength stemming from fear she pushed him away, but when she tried to run to the door he was there before her, barring her way. Slowly, with cool deliberation, he turned the key in the lock then slipped it into his jacket pocket as he walked back to the table and poured himself another glass of wine. He raised it aloft, his eyes glittering with mockery. ‘A toast, Helen. At last I’ve managed to unleash some emotion from behind that ever-so-cool façde of yours.’

  He drank the wine in one go then set the glass down, raising a mocking brow at her continued silence. ‘Nothing to say, my dear? No response to my toast? The old Helen would have been far more gracious and remembered all those carefully instilled manners.’

  ‘Damn you, Jacob Hunt! Damn you to hell and back for what you have done!’

  He laughed aloud. ‘I’m sure I was damned many years ago, so save your breath, my sweet.’

  ‘I am not your anything! Do you hear me? I hate you, Jacob. I hate you for everything you have done to my family. You drove my father to bankruptcy, made certain that there was nothing left so that he was forced to sell you the business, the house, the land—everything! You wanted everything we had and did your damnedest to get it. And I despise you because of it!’

  ‘And that is the reason why you came tonight, isn’t it? Your hatred was great enough to break through the icy disdain you have treated me with all these years? I must admit to feeling a certain satisfaction that I understood you so well, Helen.’

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. Please unlock the door. I want to leave.’

  ‘So there is still a bit of the old Helen left. Even in a time of stress you can remember to say please. I imagine you will even thank me when I allow you to go, but not just yet. Please accept my invitation to stay a while longer. After all, Helen, you haven’t really explained the reason for your visit, entertaining though it has been.’

  His eyes dropped deliberately to the soft curves of her body under the clinging silk dress. Helen felt colour flood her face and turned away, but not fast enough to prevent Jacob from seeing it. When he laughed this time his voice held a note which made heat curl and shimmer inside her, awakening sensations she didn’t want to feel.

  ‘It’s still there, isn’t it, Helen? Oh, you’ve done your best over the years to pretend it doesn’t exist but we both know differently. Does it offend you that you feel this awareness of me? Is that the reason why you keep your distance and try to convince yourself that you might possibly find happiness with Richard? Are you afraid of all those hot wild feelings? Afraid to touch the flame of real desire in case you get burnt?’

  ‘No! Don’t flatter yourself, Jacob Hunt. The only feelings I have for you are ones of contempt!’ She tossed her head to send the gleaming rich red waves rippling down her back. ‘It makes me laugh when I read about you in the paper, all those articles full of praise for all you’ve achieved in such a remarkably short time. You’re seen as the perfect example of the self-made man who worked himself up from nothing to immense riches. How much are you worth now, Jacob? One million—ten? I doubt you have time to count your wealth because you’re too busy acquiring more!’

  ‘You make it sound like a crime, Helen.’ He smiled faintly as he walked over to the window and stared out at the darkness of the night. Helen could imagine exactly what he was seeing, could picture in her mind’s eye the long sweep of lawn down to the lake, the swaying movement of the trees in the distant wood. How many times had she stood exactly where Jacob was standing now, staring out at that same view? It was the memory of that which gave her the strength to carry on in the face of a growing fear.

  ‘It is a crime! The way you set about achieving what you wanted was criminal.’ She followed him across the room refusing to let him see her fear. ‘You set out to destroy my family. You used any means you could to take everything we had away, and why? Because you were jealous. You resented us having things you didn’t!’

  ‘Is that the way you see it, Helen? Do you really imagine that my whole life has been one long war against your family?’

  ‘Yes!’ She spat the word back at him, glaring into his set face. ‘You know it’s true. From the minute you moved into the area when you were seventeen you hated us!’

  ‘And is it any wonder?’ His anger suddenly rose, his eyes burning with it as they met hers. ‘You and your family and friends did all you could to humiliate me. You mocked my accent, my clothes, the home I lived in. I made a mistake, you see. I actually thought that I could become one of you, but that could never happen. I was too rough and poor to mix with the Sinclairs.’ He caught her chin, his hold gentle, yet she knew she would have little hope of freeing herself without a struggle and she wouldn’t give him that much satisfaction. ‘But I found out in time what was going on, Helen, didn’t I? Before I made an even bigger fool of myself and gave you and your friends more to laugh at?’

  ‘I...’ She couldn’t think what to say, the words drying up under the force of that bitter stare. She closed her eyes, not wanting to recall that day by the lake so many years ago, but the memories were too vivid to blank them out.

  They had all been there, Helen and all her friends, enjoying a day lazing by the lake under the hot July sun. All apart from Jacob. He had found himself a job working in one of the local garages and spent little time now hanging around on the edges of their circle. Helen couldn’t remember which of the boys first started to mimic Jacob’s rough city accent, but in no time at all the others had joined in, making increasingly derogatory comments about his clothes, the small rented cottage where he lived with his mother.

  Helen had wanted to stop them but she’d been afraid to stand up for Jacob in case she’d found herself on the wrong end of the mockery. Jacob Hunt had disturbed her. He had aroused feelings inside her she’d barely understood and had no idea how to handle. Sometimes when he looked at her with those burning deep blue eyes she’d felt as though she were stepping in quicksand, and it had made her feel afraid and keep her distance from him.

  When one of the girls had suddenly asked her if she didn’t think Jacob was attractive, Helen had given a theatrical shudder of distaste, her voice cutting as she had stated that Jacob Hunt was too rough and too poor for her taste. Everyone had laughed, yet when Helen had looked round and suddenly seen Jacob standing in the shadow of the trees she had felt deeply ashamed. No one else had seen him. He had turned and left without a word, yet that day had lain between them all these years, never mentioned until just now yet at the root of everything that had happened since...

  ‘It was just foolish talk, Jacob,’ she said quietly now. ‘Nobody would have said anything if they had realised you were there.’

  He let her go so abruptly that she staggered back and had to steady herself against the wall. ‘I’m sure they wouldn’t have, Helen. They had far too much sense for that.’ He smiled grimly and she looked away, understanding what he meant.

  Jacob had been bigger than the rest of the boys his age, his body far more muscular. He had exuded a latent power which had kept the girls whispering about him for hours and made the boys both jealous and wary. If he had chosen to show his displeasure that day then no one would have been his match. But even then Jacob had been too clever for that. He had taken that hurtful conversation and used it to strengthen his determination to make them pay.

  The resurgence of shame Helen had felt so briefly died as everything he had done came rushing back. She laughed bitterly, her face mirroring her contempt and hatred almost in equal measures.

  ‘But in the end you had the last laugh, didn’t you? I mean, look at you now.’ Her eyes skimmed his powerful body then came to rest on his face. ‘Rich, influential—you have everything you want, everything you ever dreamed of having.’

  He shook his head, his eyes hooded as he unfastened the elegant black bow tie and tossed it on to the table then flicked open the top buttons of his dress shirt. His skin was just as tanned at the base of his strong th
roat as it was on his face. He’d come back from a holiday at his private house in Nassau only a week ago and the colour of his skin spoke volumes of the hours he must have spent water-skiing and swimming.

  Now, as Helen glimpsed the tantalising sight of that smooth, tanned skin, she felt her insides tighten in a way she hated. Deliberately she walked over to the table and poured herself a glass of the excellent wine. It was one she recognised, one from the fine cellar her father had built up over the years. Jacob owned all that now, every bottle, just as he owned every stick of furniture in this house where she had grown up. If she lived to be a hundred she would never forgive him for what he had done!

  ‘Aren’t you curious, Helen?’

  His voice drew her back to the present and she took a sip of the wine she didn’t want before putting the glass carefully down on the table and arching a slender brow at him. ‘Curious? Sorry, Jacob, but I seem to have missed something.’ She feigned a yawn, glancing at the tiny jewelled watch on her wrist, the only item she’d managed to save from the sale of her jewellery. Her father had given it to her for her twenty-first birthday and she would never part with it if she could help it. It was a reminder of all she’d had and lost, a reminder of why she should hate the man standing across the room.

  He ignored her attempt at indifference, his face betraying little as he studied her. ‘You said that I have everything I ever wanted but you were wrong, Helen. There is one thing I still want.’

  What was it in his voice that made her feel suddenly uneasy? She searched his dark face but there was nothing there to explain why that shiver of unease should slide so devastatingly down her spine. She gave a small shrug of indifference as she picked up the glass again and raised it to her lips. ‘Is there? How fascinating.’

  He laughed then, softly, as though he understood completely how she felt and perhaps he did. Jacob had always been perceptive. He wouldn’t have achieved what he had if he hadn’t been. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me what it is? Surely your curiosity is piqued, Helen, by such a confession?’