by Sara Craven
Until I’m Mrs Adam Latimer and Mannion belongs to me as it always should have done.
Captain Jack Latimer, she thought. Serafina’s soldier son and my father. If he hadn’t been killed in that ambush in Northern Ireland, my mother’s life—and mine—would have been very different. They would have been married, and whatever Serafina thought, she would have had to accept it.
He wouldn’t have allowed the girl he loved to be sent away in disgrace.
She walked down the terrace steps and headed across the lawn to the shrubbery. Ever since she’d first come to live at Mannion, it had been her favourite bolthole, a place to hide in when she was missing her mother and wanted to cry in peace. Aunt Joss was kind enough but too busy and often too harassed to devote much time to her. And taking charge of her young niece was something Dana knew had been thrust upon her, because her sense of duty would not allow the little girl to be fostered during her mother’s frequent and often lengthy absences in hospital.
So, a lot of the time, she was lonely. Not the kind of desolation where she knelt on the other side of a locked door listening, frightened, to her mother’s harsh weeping.
It was more a sense of bewildered abandonment which remained even when she and her mother were reunited in some new poky flat, while Linda, each time more fragile, more diminished, struggled with yet another dead-end job, and promised the brisk women who visited her in the evenings with their files of paperwork, that this time she would make an effort—make it work for Dana’s sake as well as her own.
She paused, fists suddenly clenching at her sides, as she wondered if she, a small child, had been the only one to see it was never going to happen.
And by that time all that filled her heart and mind was Mannion.
‘Our home,’ Linda had told her over and over again, murmuring to her at night in the bed they shared. ‘Our security. Our future. Taken away because I was only the housekeeper’s sister.
‘I thought your grandmother would welcome me when I went to her. Be glad that Jack had a child. I thought we could mourn for him together. Instead she sent us both away. I felt my heart break when I lost your father, but she shattered it all over again.
‘But she won’t beat us, my darling. Mannion was your father’s inheritance, so it belongs to us now and one day we’ll take it back. Say it, sweetheart. Let me hear the words.’
And obediently, eyes closing, voice fogged with sleep Dana would whisper, ‘One day we’ll take it back.’
Not that it helped. Because, all too soon, it would begin again—the soft monotonous sobbing from behind the closed bedroom door, interspersed with the periods where Linda sat by the living room window, unspeaking and unmoving as she stared into space.
When Dana would find herself whisked back to Mannion and Aunt Joss, each time finding herself more secure. Feeling a sense of possession growing as the seeds her mother had planted took root.
Mrs Brownlow, one of the brisk ladies who visited her mother, was now calling at Mannion for regular conferences with Aunt Joss.
Sometimes, she caught snatches of their conversation. ‘Such a difficult situation...’ ‘Not the child’s fault...’ ‘Very bright at school, but suffering from these disruptions...’
And over and over again from Aunt Joss: ‘This unhealthy obsession...’
One day, Mrs Brownlow had been soothing. ‘Linda seems much more upbeat—a real change. We’re hoping that this complete break will help get her back on track. She seems to be looking forward to it.’
‘Two weeks in Spain?’ Aunt Joss had sounded doubtful. ‘Without Dana?’
‘This first time, yes. To see how she copes. Perhaps we can arrange a joint holiday later on.’
Dana was thankful. Not that she was particularly happy at the village school where the children, confused by her arrivals and departures, treated her as an outsider. But she wasn’t altogether sure where Spain was—except that it was almost certainly a long way from Mannion, the only place she really wanted to be.
And where she would fight to stay.
But Linda, it seemed, had given up the fight because, towards the end of the two weeks, Aunt Joss got a letter from her to say she’d got a job in a bar and had decided to stay in Spain for a while.
Her decision had caused uproar among the officials who were handling her case, but Aunt Joss was calm, even philosophical, informing them that it could be for the best and would, at any rate, give Dana the chance of a stable upbringing.
Dana missed her mother but she also felt grateful that the burden of Linda’s seemingly endless despair had been lifted from her.
And at least she was living in the place that Linda had wanted for them both, and maybe, in time, Serafina’s attitude might soften and she would accept Dana as her granddaughter.
And in another way, Dana’s life took a definite change for the better when Nicola arrived to spend the summer at Mannion.
Another orphan of the storm, Dana recalled wryly, her parents acrimoniously divorced, with custody of Nicola and her older brother being awarded to their father. Megan Latimer was now living in the wilds of Colombia with the millionaire boyfriend who had caused the marriage breakdown on an estate rumoured to be like an armed fortress.
‘And I’m not allowed to go there,’ Nicola had confided as Dana was rather awkwardly showing her the gardens on Serafina’s instructions. ‘The judge said so, even though I said I liked Esteban.’
She looked woebegone. ‘Daddy said we could all go on a sailing holiday, but I didn’t want to, because I can’t swim very well and I get seasick. So he’s just taking Adam, and got Aunt Serafina to say I could come here.’
‘It’s lovely here,’ Dana said. ‘You’ll like it.’ And they exchanged cautious smiles.
In the kitchen garden, Mr Godstow, face ruddy under his faded cap, filled a trug for them with the pods of young, sweet peas, raspberries and gooseberries which they carried off to share in the den Dana had constructed in the shrubbery.
It was a curious form of bonding, but it worked. They’d both been on an emotional see-saw and now, unexpectedly, had found a friend in each other.
Until, of course, Zac Belisandro had engineered their separation.
But I’ll have my revenge, she told herself, when Mannion’s mine and it’s his turn to be barred.
And it would happen. She’d been thwarted once, but since then she’d had a long time to prepare for this second crucial attempt on the glittering prize that had possessed her heart and mind to the exclusion of so much else for so long.
The reunion at the flat viewing had gone like clockwork. Nicola’s delight at seeing her again was quite unfeigned, and while Dana might tell herself it was just a means to an end, she knew it wasn’t true, and that she was equally thrilled.
‘Eddie has to go back to work now,’ Nicola said when they joined Dana in the spacious living room after their second, private tour of inspection. ‘So why don’t we find a bar and have a double celebration?’
‘Double?’
‘Of course.’ Nicola’s wide grin was just the same. ‘Finding our future home and you, again, at the same time.’
‘Two wonderful reasons,’ Dana laughed back. ‘Let’s go.’
‘So what happened to you?’ Nicola asked as they toasted each other in Prosecco in a local wine bar. ‘Why did you suddenly disappear like that—before your final year at school?’
You mean that Zac Belisandro didn’t tell you...
Aloud, she said lightly, ‘It wasn’t really that sudden. I’d already decided against university, so when that London job came up again, I took it.’
‘But you went without a word.’ There was hurt in Nicola’s voice. ‘And you never answered any of my letters although your aunt promised she’d send them on.’
Except her first loyalty was to Serafina, not her o
wn disgraced, illegitimate niece, exiled before she caused more trouble.
Dana swallowed. ‘Well, I did move around quite a bit. The letters are probably still in the system, trying to track me down.’
‘Well, I shan’t let you slip away again,’ Nicola said resolutely. ‘We’re having a family get-together down at Mannion the weekend after next to talk wedding plans and you’re going to be there. And I won’t take no for an answer.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Dana said with perfect truth, her mind reeling.
‘It will be just like old times,’ Nicola went on. ‘Jo and Emily are going to be there, as they’re my bridesmaids, and they’re bringing their blokes.’ She paused. ‘So, if you’ve got someone in your life, invite him along.’
Dana took another mouthful of Prosecco. ‘There’s no one serious. Not at the moment.’
But that would all change—down at Mannion.
Nicola sighed. ‘You sound like Adam. As soon as I get to like one of his girlfriends, he’s on to the next.’ She pulled a face. ‘And Zac, the serial monogamist, sets him a bad example.’
‘I can imagine.’ Dana’s mouth felt suddenly stiff. ‘Maybe Adam just hasn’t met the right woman yet.’ Or not at the right time.
Afterwards, she’d been assailed by doubts, telling herself that it couldn’t possibly be that simple, half expecting a call from Nicola telling her that the weekend had been cancelled or making some other excuse.
Instead she’d had a call from Eddie offering the full asking price on the flat, and when Nicola phoned a few days later, it was to confirm the invitation and say how much everyone was looking forward to seeing her again.
Including Adam? wondered Dana, but did not dare ask.
Although she would soon find out, she thought now, glancing at her watch. It was time to stop skulking in the grounds and begin her campaign.
She was halfway across the lawn when she realised she was being watched. That a man was standing, silent and unmoving, at the head of the terrace steps.
For one jubilant instant, she thought, Adam...
Then her footsteps faltered as she realised her observer was much too tall to be Adam. And much too dark.
Dark as midnight. Dark as a bad dream.
Only she wasn’t dreaming. Not this time. She was looking at Zac Belisandro—not on the other side of the world but, by some ill chance, right here.
Waiting for her.
CHAPTER TWO
NO!
The word was in her throat like a silent scream. Because it couldn’t be true. Yet the wild, unruly thud of her terrified heart told her there was no room for doubt.
She couldn’t run. There was nowhere to go and, anyway, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of putting her to flight.
But he wouldn’t be able to get rid of her this time. Serafina was no longer around to sit in judgement on a young girl who’d offended her code of conduct.
This time, she was Nicola’s guest. One of the gang. And Nicola would laugh to scorn any attempt to discredit her.
‘Come off it, Zac.’ Dana could hear her now. ‘She can’t be the first girl who’s come on to you and the others have all been old enough to know better. Besides, it was a long time ago.’
A long time ago, she repeated silently. So why did it feel as if it were only yesterday?
And what if he replied, ‘But it wasn’t me she wanted. Not then. Not now. It’s Adam—and this house.’
He could blow her plans clean out of the water with one sneering remark. Could—and probably would.
Her legs were shaking, but she dragged every rag of calm she possessed around her, to get her safely up the steps.
But not past him...
He was standing, hands on hips, his face a mask, his eyes raking her from head to foot, as he said softly, ‘So you have come back. I thought you would have more sense.’
Dana met his gaze, hard as obsidian. ‘I accepted an invitation from an old friend, nothing more.’ She lifted her chin. ‘And how are things with you, Mr Belisandro? Still devouring the world?’
‘In small bites, Miss Grantham.’ His voice was a drawl, his tone tinged with ice. ‘And never more than I can comfortably chew. A policy I recommend to you, signorina.’
The close-fitting charcoal pants he wore had the sheen of silk, while the matching shirt was negligently unbuttoned revealing more of the muscular bronze of his chest than she’d any wish to see.
It made her feel uneasy—almost restless, and she shrugged, fighting to regain some equilibrium. ‘That depends, I suppose, on the size of one’s appetite.’
‘And yours, if memory serves, borders on the voracious. If you wish to discuss mine, I suggest we choose somewhere more private. The summer house, perhaps.’
He watched the swift flare of colour in her face and nodded, smiling a little. ‘So this new sophistication is only skin-deep after all. But how fascinating. And what temptation.’
‘I’d say—what arrogance, Mr Belisandro.’ Her hands curled into fists at her sides. ‘You clearly haven’t changed at all.’
It wasn’t true. He’d matured, wearing his thirty-two years with toned grace. He’d always been attractive. Even she had to admit that. But now he was—spectacular. And, as such, formidable.
‘I have never found a reason to do so,’ he said. ‘Although I may have become a little more compassionate than I was seven years ago, so let me offer you some advice.’
He took a step towards her and it needed every scrap of self-command she possessed not to back away.
He went on quietly, ‘Recall some pressing engagement and return to London. Meet Nicola for lunch occasionally, if both of you so wish. But hope for nothing more. That way you may remain unscathed.’
He paused. ‘Continue on your present path, and you will regret it.’
Her throat tightened but she managed a little laugh. ‘How very melodramatic. Is this how you threaten your business competitors?’
‘I rarely find it necessary. They listen to reason. I suggest you do the same.’
‘Thank you.’ Dana drew a deep breath. ‘Please believe that if ever I need your advice, I’ll ask for it. In the meantime, I plan to enjoy a pleasant weekend in these beautiful—and desirable—urroundings. I hope you do the same.’
‘If you’re looking for Adam,’ he said as she turned towards the French windows. ‘He has not yet arrived. He is driving down with his latest girl, Robina Simmons, whose lack of punctuality is legendary, so they have probably quarrelled.’ He smiled. ‘Let us hope the disagreement will not last.’
‘Unlike ours,’ Dana threw over her shoulder. ‘Which I’m sure will run and run.’
Not much of a last word, she thought shakily, but better than nothing.
The drawing room was empty so she was able to escape to her room without another unwanted confrontation to add to the inner turmoil, already threatening to tear her apart.
Zac Belisandro—here, she thought as she sank down on the edge of the bed. How was it possible? And why hadn’t Nicola warned her?
Because she had no reason to do so, she answered her own question. To Nicola, Zac was simply Serafina’s billionaire cousin and Adam’s friend. Someone she’d known and trusted for most of her life.
Whereas to me, she thought bitterly, he’s the man who’s already tried to ruin my life once, and who hasn’t finished yet. He’s made that more than clear.
Just as he’d relished telling her that Adam wasn’t arriving alone, although she wouldn’t let herself worry too much about that. According to his sister he had a rapid turnover in girlfriends—and if they were already quarrelling...
“Adam wanted me once,” she whispered to herself. “I have to make him remember that—and want me again, even more. To the point of desperation, no less. Be
cause only he can give me Mannion, and I’ll settle for nothing less.”
Not that he would have any reason to feel short-changed. She would make him a good wife—the best—and be the perfect hostess in a house she would restore to its former glory.
Even Zac Belisandro would have to admit as much...
She paused right there, shocked at herself, her heart skipping a nervous beat.
Because what did his opinion matter—or his empty threats? His presence here was temporary. His work—his life—belonged thousands of miles away and soon he would be returning there to resume both of them.
While she would still be here. So why was she letting him get to her—invading her consciousness even marginally?
She drew a deep, steadying breath.
She’d waited so long for this day when she’d finally return to Mannion that it was hardly surprising she found herself on edge, making mountains out of what would prove to be molehills.
What she needed now was to relax—and regroup.
A warm bath would be good, followed by a brief nap before she dressed for dinner.
Tonight’s outfit had been chosen with care, because she needed to make it count. It was a simply cut dress in a silky and striking fabric the colour of amber, which added lustre to her skin, while the low square neck, revealing the first creamy swell of her breasts and the brief flare of the skirt was gently but enticingly provocative.
She had amber drops set in gold for her ears—a present to herself bought from her first bonus at Jarvis Stratton, to mark the moment when she’d thought of herself as having a career instead of just a job. When she’d started to believe in herself again, and feel a growing conviction that she would succeed where her mother had failed.
When conviction had become stony determination.
Not that marrying Adam would impose any kind of hardship, she mused, as she made her way to the bathroom. On the contrary, it could be an additional perk.
As she lay in the scented water, she looked down at her body, examining it as if it belonged to a stranger. Trying to judge it through a stranger’s eyes. A man’s eyes.
