Jordan St Claire: Dark and Dangerous

by Carole Mortimer

  Even so, Stephanie was sitting at the kitchen table impatiently waiting for him by the time Jordan had ended the call and collected his coat. ‘Hmm, something smells good.’ He sniffed appreciatively at the saucepan he could see simmering on top of the Aga.

  ‘Soup for lunch,’ she supplied economically as she stood up to pull on a heavy black jacket. ‘No, I don’t see that as acting the housekeeper,’ she defended irritably as Jordan raised mocking brows. ‘For your body to be healthy you need to eat healthily, that’s all.’

  He smiled. ‘So you’re saying you only made lunch because you consider feeding me a part of my treatment?’

  Those green eyes narrowed. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Jordan—’

  ‘Stephanie?’

  She wasn’t fooled for a moment by Jordan’s too-innocent expression, knowing he was just trying to irritate her again. And obviously succeeding! ‘Why do you need two mobile phones?’ she asked, as she pulled on a pair of black gloves to keep her hands warm.

  A slight frown appeared between those amber-gold eyes. ‘What?’

  She shrugged. ‘I noticed earlier that there were two mobiles on the desk in the study, and I was just curious as to why you would need two when most people manage fine with just one?’

  ‘Maybe because I’m two people?’ Jordan finally replied, deciding that Stephanie McKinley was far too observant for his comfort sometimes.

  She arched auburn brows. ‘Because you’re both Jordan Simpson and Jordan St Claire?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why did you change your name when you became an actor? Jordan St Claire is quite a charismatic name—’

  ‘Are we going for this walk or not?’ Jordan’s mouth thinned as he stepped forward and pointedly opened the back door for her.

  ‘We are.’ Stephanie nodded as she stepped outside. ‘So you actually consider Jordan Simpson and Jordan St Claire to be two distinctly different people?’ she persisted as he locked the door behind them before joining her on the path.

  Jordan didn’t consider them to be anything—they were two distinctly different people! As different as night and day. And non-interchangeable. ‘Could we just get this walk over with, do you think?’ he barked, before striding off in the direction of Mulberry Hall.

  ‘Of course.’ Stephanie deliberately measured her strides so that they were in step with his much slower ones. ‘You never considered working in the St Claire Corporation?’ she prompted curiously.

  It was a curiosity that was probably understandable in the circumstances. Except Jordan wasn’t presently known for his understanding! ‘Have you ever heard of maintaining a companionable silence when out walking?’

  Of course Stephanie had heard of it; it just wasn’t something that was ever likely to happen between herself and Jordan! An awkward silence, perhaps. An uncomfortable silence, even. A totally physically aware one, certainly. At least on her part … The scowl on Jordan’s arrogantly handsome face as he stomped along beside her didn’t give the impression that he was in the least aware of her, or anyone else for that matter.

  ‘Wow!’

  Jordan leant tiredly against one of the four marble pillars in the magnificent hallway of Mulberry Hall as Stephanie gazed up in awe at the huge Venetian glass chandelier hanging down from the frescoed ceiling high above them. Jordan’s leg was aching too much from the half-mile or so walk over here for him to share her enthusiasm. Besides, he had seen the inside of Mulberry Hall dozens of times before.

  ‘This is … I mean, wow!’

  ‘I get that you’re in awe,’ Jordan drawled dryly as he watched her wandering around the cavernous hallway, admiring the beautiful marble floor and statuary.

  ‘And you aren’t?’ Her eyes were wide with accusation.

  ‘Not particularly, no,’ Jordan muttered as he pushed himself away from the pillar to lean heavily on his cane and walk towards the main salon at the front of the house.

  Stephanie trailed slowly along behind him, her eyes bright with pleasure as she came to stand on the threshold of the room, looking at the beautiful gold and cream decor and delicate Regency furniture. ‘Has Lucan never thought of opening this up to the public?’

  ‘Definitely not.’ Jordan almost laughed at the thought of the expression of disgust that would appear on his eldest brother’s face if anyone dared to suggest he should open the doors of Mulberry Hall to all and sundry. ‘I don’t recommend that you suggest it to him, either—unless you want to feel the icy blast of his complete disapproval.’

  ‘But it seems such a waste.’ Stephanie frowned. ‘The building itself must be very old.’

  ‘Early Elizabethan, I believe.’

  Stephanie crossed the room to lightly touch the beautiful ornate gold frame about the huge mirror above the white fireplace. ‘Did Lucan buy it completely furnished like this?’ There were ornaments and lamps on the surfaces of the many side tables, and a large dresser along one wall, as well as a beautiful Ormolu clock on top of the fireplace.

  Jordan gave an uninterested shrug. ‘As far as I’m aware some of this furniture has been here for a couple of hundred years at least.’

  ‘I wonder what happened to the family that lived here?’ Stephanie murmured. ‘It must have been someone titled, don’t you think?’

  Jordan nodded. ‘The Dukes of Stourbridge.’

  Stephanie sighed. ‘It’s such a pity that so many of the old titles have either become extinct or fallen into disuse.’

  ‘Yes, a pity,’ Jordan drawled dryly.

  ‘Do you suppose Lucan intends to live here once he’s married? It was just a thought,’ she defended as Jordan gave a shout of laughter. ‘You say that he doesn’t intend opening it to the public, but he must intend doing something with it, surely?’

  ‘Sorry, I was just trying to imagine Lucan married,’ Jordan gasped, his shoulders still shaking slightly. ‘No, I just can’t see it, I’m afraid.’

  Stephanie couldn’t imagine the cold and self-contained man she had met the previous week madly in love and married, either. ‘I wonder why he bothered to buy it, then?’

  ‘I never try to second-guess Lucan, and I’d advise you not to bother trying, either,’ Jordan suggested as he turned away. ‘Do you want to see the pool at the back of the house now?’ he offered, when he saw Stephanie hadn’t moved from in front of the fireplace.

  ‘Philistine,’ she accused him good-naturedly as she followed him back out into the incredible marble hallway.

  Stephanie had visited several country estates in the past that had been open to the public, but never an empty one that looked quite so much as if someone still lived there. There were paintings on all the walls, ornaments and antique mirrors everywhere, and there was even a silver tray on the stand in the hallway that looked as if it were waiting for visiting cards to be placed upon it. In fact the whole house had the look of expecting the master of the house—the Duke of Stourbridge—to walk through the front doorway at any moment.

  ‘Lucan has a caretaker for the grounds, and his wife keeps the inside of the house free of dust,’ Jordan explained when Stephanie said as much to him.

  ‘Even so, it seems a shame that no one actually lives here.’ Stephanie looked about her wistfully.

  ‘It’s really not the sort of place you could ever call home, now, is it?’ Jordan scorned. ‘That you would ever really want to call home,’ he added.

  Stephanie stood at the bottom of the wide and sweeping staircase that led up the gallery above, wondering how many beautiful women had stood poised at the top of that staircase, in gowns from the Elizabethan period to now, to be admired by the men they loved as they floated down those stairs and into their waiting arms. Dozens of them, probably. And now Mulberry Hall stood empty, apart from the caretaker and his wife who obviously lived somewhere else on the estate, when it should have been full of love and the laughter of children.

  ‘I suppose not,’ she agreed slowly, before following him.

>   Jordan had nothing more to add to that particular conversation. Had no intention of telling the already over-curious Stephanie McKinley that Lucan hadn’t bought Mulberry Hall at all, that he was in fact the current and fifteenth Duke of Stourbridge. Which consequently made him Lord Jordan St Claire and his twin brother Lord Gideon St Claire—a little known fact that his using the professional name of Simpson had helped keep from the public in general.

  The three brothers had spent their early childhood growing up at Mulberry Hall. Until their Scottish mother had discovered that their father, the fourteenth Duke of Stourbridge, had been keeping a mistress in the village. After the separation Molly had decided to move back to her native Edinburgh, and had taken her three sons with her.

  Obviously the three boys had come back to Mulberry Hall on visits to their father, but they had all much preferred the rambling untidiness of their home in Edinburgh to the stiff formality of life at Mulberry Hall. Besides which, none of the three brothers had ever really forgiven their father for his unfaithfulness to their gentle and beautiful mother.

  As a consequence, when the three boys had reached an age where they could choose to visit or not, they had all chosen not to come anywhere near Mulberry Hall or their father again. That aversion to the place hadn’t changed in the least when their father had died eight years ago and Lucan had inherited the title.

  They had all had their own lives by then. Lucan in the cut-throat world of business, Jordan in acting and Gideon in law. None of them had needed or wanted the restrictions of life at Mulberry Hall. Although it had so far proved an invaluable bolt-hole for Jordan after he had felt the need to leave the States in an effort to elude the press that still hounded his every move months after the accident.

  ‘You wouldn’t even realise this was here from the front of the house.’ Stephanie stood at the edge of the full-length pool to look admiringly at the surrounding statuary and greenery that made up the low and heated pool room built onto the back of Mulberry Hall.

  ‘I think that was the idea.’ Jordan made no effort to hide his sarcasm.

  She shot him an impatient glance as she slipped off her jacket in the heat of the room. ‘It’s really warm in here, and the water looks very inviting; are you sure you won’t change your mind about going for a swim?’

  He quirked a wicked brow at her. ‘I might consider it if you intend skinny-dipping.’

  ‘Stop changing the subject, Jordan.’ Stephanie rounded on him. ‘You have the ideal facility here for gently exercising your leg, and yet you refuse to use it.’

  ‘Because I don’t want to exercise my leg—gently or otherwise,’ Jordan stated firmly.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘And you accuse me of being stubborn!’ His eyes glittered deeply gold.

  ‘That’s because you are!’

  ‘And you really think that your constant nagging on the subject is going to make me change my mind?’ Jordan said.

  Stephanie gasped. ‘I do not nag!’

  ‘Yes. You. Do.’ The two of them were now standing almost nose to nose as Jordan glared down at Stephanie and she raised her chin in challenge. ‘Oh, to hell with this! ‘ He threw his cane down onto one of the loungers that surrounded the pool, then pulled Stephanie hard against his body before bending his head and savagely claiming her mouth with his.

  The forceful kiss was so unexpected that she didn’t even have time to resist its sensual pull as her lips parted beneath Jordan’s, her coat slipping from her fingers as she moved her hands up to clasp those wide and muscled shoulders in an effort to keep her balance.

  Her back arched instinctively, pushing her breasts against the hard wall of his chest, the proximity instantly making her aware of how swollen her nipples were, how they ached for the touch of those same hands that now moved so restlessly down the slenderness of her spine.

  Suddenly she realised exactly how inappropriate allowing Jordan to kiss her actually was. Of how easily her behaviour could be misconstrued if he were ever to learn of Rosalind Newman’s outrageous accusations.

  It was as if a bucket of icy cold water had been thrown over her. She broke the kiss to move back abruptly, her eyes widening in alarm as she realised that even that slight movement had unbalanced Jordan—and his hands took a tight grip of her arms as he began to fall back towards the pool!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘DID you intend that to happen?’ Jordan accused as he surfaced and pushed back the wet dark hair that had fallen over his eyes.

  His anger was all the stronger for the realisation that he couldn’t even do a simple thing like kiss a woman without making a complete fool of himself. Without demonstrating just how incapacitated he was!

  Stephanie had been on the verge of laughing at their predicament as she surfaced beside him, but one look at Jordan’s grimly annoyed face was enough to kill that laughter dead as she trod water beside him to stay afloat.

  Then she recalled exactly what they had been doing before they fell into the water.

  Dear God!

  How could she have let that happen? Why had she let that happen? It made her position here untenable. Almost impossible. She—

  ‘What do you mean, did I intend that to happen?’ She frowned darkly as Jordan’s accusation finally sank into her shocked brain. ‘Do you think that I—that we—that I deliberately let you kiss me with the intention of—?’

  ‘Pushing me in?’ Jordan finished savagely as he began to swim effortlessly to the side of the pool. ‘Yes, Stephanie, that’s exactly what I think,’ he said, as he used the strength of his arms to lever himself up and out onto the side of the pool.

  Stephanie swam after him. ‘You can’t seriously believe that, Jordan?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, Stephanie, I can.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘You wanted me in the pool, and that’s exactly where I ended up.’ Jordan was breathing hard from the exertion, leaving a trail of water behind him as he limped over to the cupboard where the towels were kept, taking one out to rub the excess water from his dripping wet hair. ‘If nothing else, I have to give you full marks for professional dedication.’ He threw the damp towel down disgustedly onto a lounger. ‘In fact I’ll be sure to mention to Lucan exactly how dedicated you are when I call him later and tell him I’ve kicked your shapely little bottom off the estate.’

  Stephanie stood on the side of the pool too now, as angry as Jordan. He really believed that in the midst of being kissed by him she’d had the presence of mind to deliberately overbalance him as a way of forcing him into the swimming pool? She didn’t have that sort of control—in fact much longer in Jordan’s arms, being kissed by him, and she would have been completely out of control!

  ‘Now, just a minute—’

  ‘I believe I’ve already wasted enough of my time on you for one day.’ Jordan glowered at her from between narrowed lids before his expression turned to a scowl of dark and savage disgust and he looked down to pull the cold dampness of his T-shirt away from his chest.

  Stephanie couldn’t take her gaze away from the muscled perfection of that chest, which was clearly visible through the wet T-shirt. She could feel her face burning with the memory of how much she had wanted to touch that muscled chest a few minutes ago. Of how much she had wanted to touch and caress all of him.

  She turned away to take a towel from the cupboard and dry herself off as a way of hiding the burning in her cheeks, her mind racing with the enormity of what had just happened. World-famous actor Jordan Simpson had just kissed her, Stephanie McKinley.

  Before accusing her of deliberately encouraging him so that she could push him into the pool! She certainly hadn’t done it deliberately, but had she encouraged him to kiss her? Stephanie didn’t think that she had … although she doubted that Rosalind Newman, for one, would believe that! This was terrible. She was fed up with being portrayed as some kind of scarlet woman. This would surely be the complete end of Stephanie’s professional career if Jordan went ahead and voiced his accusations a
bout her to the cold and arrogant Lucan St Claire.

  Stephanie felt ill. Nauseous. Could literally feel the heat leaving her cheeks. She stumbled over to one of the loungers to collapse onto it as her knees gave way beneath her.

  She might be able to fight one accusation of indulging in sexual indiscretion with a patient—but no one was going to believe two such accusations. Even if Stephanie managed to prove her innocence, some of the mud was sure to stick. Her professional reputation would be in tatters—

  ‘What’s wrong, Stephanie?’ Jordan had moved so that he now towered over her.

  She blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall before looking up at him. God, they both looked such a mess: hair wet and tangled, their clothes clinging to them damply. Although maybe she should feel grateful they were still wearing any clothes at all after the way she had responded to Jordan’s kiss!

  She shook her head as she murmured heavily, ‘That should never have happened …’

  No, it shouldn’t, Jordan accepted, disgusted with himself. He had meant to stay as far away from this woman as possible, and hope that his non-cooperation would eventually persuade her into leaving. Kissing her as if he wanted to eat every delectable part of her could hardly be called non-cooperation on his part!

  Although Stephanie’s guilt over a kiss was a little over the top, wasn’t it?

  Jordan frowned as he stared down into green eyes awash with unshed tears. As he remembered how Stephanie’s responses had been so sweet, so addictive … So much so that Jordan was still aroused, that hardness clearly visible against the clinging denim material of his jeans.

  Obviously the unexpected swim had been no more effective in dampening his desire for this woman than the cold shower had the night before.

  Hell!

  She blinked back those tears. ‘I really didn’t deliberately push you into the pool, Jordan.’

  Jordan already knew that—just as he knew it was himself he was angry with and not Stephanie. ‘I think it’s better if we both forget the whole incident, don’t you?’ he suggested huskily.