by Sara Wood
But she wouldn’t be placated. First she’d deal with Adam’s fever. Then she’d find Cassian and flay him alive.
‘Sweetheart, your face is terribly flushed,’ she said bossily. ‘I ought to take your temperature—’
‘Morning, Laura. He’s fine, it’s only a healthy glow. We’ve been out for a run,’ came Cassian’s voice from the scullery beyond. ‘Found some mushrooms on the way,’ he added, coming into the kitchen.
Laura’s eyes popped. True to his earlier threat, he was wearing nothing but a bath towel! Acres of tanned, muscular chest speedily impressed themselves on her retinas so indelibly that she wondered if she’d ever find room for any other vision again.
‘M-morning!’ she gasped.
‘Chanterelles, parasols, ceps. Not bad. I’ve brushed them clean,’ he said to Adam, casually adding the mushrooms to the grill and drizzling on a few drops of oil.
She blinked, all the better to clear her fogged eyes and brain and to see the interesting movements of muscle beneath the flawless back, which was so smooth and glowing that she could hardly hold back from reaching out to caress it.
Briefly she let her gaze wander to the narrow hips and the small, tight rear beneath the thin, clinging towel. It was an awful mistake. Terrible things were beginning to happen to her. Delicious sensations. Wicked yearnings.
But sex-god or not, her boring, Aunt-Enid generated conscience told her sternly, this man was ruthless and heartless and she’d better not forget that.
‘Now Cassian—!’ she began angrily, all set for a showdown.
‘Just a sec—’ He wasn’t paying her any attention, his alert and watchful eyes constantly on Adam. ‘Looks great, steady as she goes,’ he said in his deep, calming voice, leaning nonchalantly against the Aga rail.
‘Will the sausages pop?’ Adam asked nervously.
‘Not on the simmer plate. You’ve got a splatter guard, anyway. Just show them you’re the boss. The pan will be safe and steady if you hold the handle firmly.’
‘Like that?’ Adam assumed a more commanding position.
‘Perfect,’ beamed Cassian. ‘It’s like everything; success is a matter of application and keeping focussed on the task.’
‘The sausies look a bit brown on their bottoms,’ Adam said uncertainly.
‘You’re right.’ Cassian handed him the tongs.
Laura sullenly admired his technique. He hadn’t said the sausages needed turning, but had waited till Adam had noticed that fact for himself. The edges were rubbed off her anger. She couldn’t help but be impressed by Cassian, callous brute though he may be.
She sat down, non-plussed, her gaze sliding surreptitiously back to him as he raised a hand and slicked back his hair which was still wet and shiny from his shower. Absently he rubbed his damp palm on his rear. No noticeable wobble. Taut muscles. Small and neat…
Laura tried to breathe normally. She couldn’t cope with so much nakedness, so much male beauty. It was too early. And to make matters worse, she had the distinct feeling that she was being superseded.
A sausage sizzled menacingly as Adam wielded the tongs. And she jumped up again.
‘Cassian! The fat—!’ she cried in alarm.
‘Sound effects, nothing more,’ Cassian said airily. ‘There’s virtually no fat at all, the way we’re cooking. He’s safe, I promise you.’
She glared. If her son was burned, she’d…
‘Great grub, isn’t it?!’ enthused Adam, failing dismally to turn any of the sausages.
She took a step to help but felt a heavy hand descend on her shoulder pushing her back into the chair. Cassian’s carefully draped towel brushed her leg. His hip was an inch from her eyes and she almost craned her neck to follow the delicious aroma of fresh soap that had accompanied his sudden movement.
‘Little beggars, sausies, aren’t they?’ sympathised Cassian, releasing his hold on Laura. ‘Oh, well done. They give in eventually. One down, three to go.’
Her mouth opened and closed. The burning imprint of his hand remained on her shoulder.
‘What was this about a run?’ she queried icily.
She peered hard at Adam for signs of exhaustion. There were none. That should have pleased her but it made her crosser than ever and she felt horribly guilty because of that.
‘Cassian asked if I’d like to go with him. We were up before six,’ Adam said proudly. ‘We walked and jogged and ran then walked and jogged and ran,’ he explained. ‘It’s a good way to start exercise. I could have gone on,’ he boasted, ‘but Cassian said he was starving so I agreed to come back.’
‘Oh, yes?’
Laura’s cynical glance made Cassian grin and shrug his shoulders in amusement behind Adam’s absorbed back. Cassian was so fit he could have run to London and back without breaking into a sweat. But at least, she thought, Cassian had been careful not to drive her son to the limit of his endurance.
‘This is a first. You never eat breakfast,’ she pointed out to her son, having tried for years to interest him in more than a meagre slice of toast and a glass of orange.
It annoyed her that Adam didn’t answer. He was occupied in looking blankly at the egg which Cassian had handed to him as if he’d never seen one.
‘I’ll do the first, you do the next,’ Cassian murmured, sotto voce. ‘Watch. Small tap with a knife, fingers in carefully, open it up very slowly…break it into this cup and tip it into the poacher.’
He was behaving like a conspirator, Laura thought huffily. For the first time in her life, she was playing second fiddle to someone else in Adam’s life. And she couldn’t bear it.
To her amazement, Adam managed the tricky operation and grinned up at Cassian in delight, receiving a slap on the back.
‘Eggsellent!’ Cassian said with a grin.
Laura looked at her giggling son as if he’d betrayed her. ‘So now you’re a fan of cooked breakfasts,’ she said lightly, trying to keep the scouring jealousy out of her tone.
‘I didn’t have the benefit of fresh air and exercise before,’ he said absently.
He pushed back a blond hank of hair with a busy hand and cracked another egg with great success. It was as if he’d scored a goal for Manchester United.
‘Hey! How about that?’ he cried in delight, taking a bow.
‘Brilliant,’ conceded Laura, squirming at his pleasure. This wasn’t her son. It just wasn’t.
Cassian put an arm around Adam’s shoulder. They looked very much at home with one another. Her eyes clouded.
‘There’s plenty for you, Laura,’ murmured Cassian, ‘if you want some. I bought loads.’
She could be proud and stick to toast and marmalade, or give in to her hysterical taste buds.
‘Thanks,’ she said stiffly, managing a compromise. ‘I’ll do myself some in a moment.’
She stalked over to the fridge for the juice and stood in amazement at the sight that met her eyes.
‘Is this…yours?’ she asked Cassian, overwhelmed by the amount of food crammed into the small space.
‘And yours. I just grabbed a few things on my way here.’
‘Few?’ Steaks. A joint of lamb, chocolate eclairs… ‘We…we can’t—’
‘Oh, Mum!’ complained Adam. ‘We can! It can be his rent for staying here, can’t it?’
Her teeth ground together. ‘You answer that,’ she said sweetly to the amused Cassian.
‘The food is for us. My contribution to the well-being of our stomachs,’ he fudged, his eyes mocking.
‘Sending us off into the blue, well-fed?’ she queried waspishly, prompting him to come clean about his presence in the house.
He smiled and didn’t rise to her bait. ‘With all the exercise Adam’s intending to take, he’ll need plenty of sustenance,’ he said easily.
‘It’s brilliant having you here, Cassian. And isn’t this music triff, Mum?’ Adam declared, going off at a tangent and totally oblivious to Laura’s fury. ‘Andean pipes. S’posed to sound like condors, soaring over
mountain peaks. Condors are big birds of prey, Mum.’
‘Are they?’ she replied drily.
But she lifted her head and listened to the music, hearing the sound of wind on feather, the chillingly beautiful echo of the pipes—as if they were rebounding from one mountain top to another.
She was aware of Cassian watching her intently and lowered her gaze, annoyed to be caught out enjoying the music and disturbed that her senses had been so deeply stirred.
‘I’ve made Turkish coffee for myself. Want to try some?’ he murmured.
Even now, though she knew his intentions towards her—eviction—her body trembled at the sound of his low, melodious voice. Even, she thought, wryly, at the crack of dawn.
If he could have this kind of effect on her, in a kitchen, with the smell of sausages pervading the air, what could he achieve over a candlelit dinner for two and a splash of aftershave?
‘All right,’ she said with a shrug.
Cassian poured some treacly liquid into a small cup from an exotic-looking silver jug with a beaked nose.
‘Do you think everything’s done now?’ he asked Adam innocently.
‘Um…yes, I reckon so,’ he replied, flushing with pleasure at being given the responsibility to decide.
Laura shrank into herself even further. The two of them dished up and carried their heaped plates to the table. All very cosy, very intimate and chummy. Laura sat sipping the rich, sweet coffee, feeling utterly miserable and goose-berryish.
They chattered, she was quiet. Adam didn’t slump as usual, or eat at a snail’s pace. And he looked Cassian directly in the eye, instead of that hesitant, sideways glance he normally gave to people.
It was astonishing. In a few hours, her son had changed. A few culinary skills, a jog across the fields, and he’d gained in confidence.
A sharp pain sliced through her and she hastily got up to cook herself some breakfast. She was a failure. Adam had needed a father—or at the very least, a different mother, she thought, racked with guilt. But she’d done everything she could to protect him. Cared for him, sacrificed much. Why then, should she feel deeply inadequate?
Miserably she looked up, hearing Cassian offer her son a lift to school. She almost told Adam to do his teeth but daren’t, not with Cassian’s dark eyes upon her in warning.
‘I’ll go and do the gnashers,’ Adam declared. ‘Um…what do I need today?’ She opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again around a piece of sausage, waiting for her son to work that one out for himself. Perhaps because he wasn’t used to doing that, there was a long pause. ‘I’d better check what lessons I’ve got and get my stuff together,’ he said eventually. ‘Then I can do some extra work on my project till it’s time to go.’
‘Mmm,’ she enthused, and gave him a beaming smile of encouragement. ‘You do that, darling.’
Adam dashed out and Cassian raised his coffee cup to her in admiring salute. Laura only just managed to stop herself from blushing coyly and joining the Cassian United Fan Club. But she knew how Adam felt, she mused. Heady, happy, pleased.
She glared at the seductive triangle of Cassian’s back. He was already clearing dishes and running water for washing up, his feet planted firmly apart on the stone flags as he tested the temperature of the water and squirted in some of the ecologically friendly washing up liquid he’d bought.
Nice feet, she couldn’t help but noticing. Well-shaped, with no ugly lumps or bumps. And muscular calves…
Furious with herself for finding him so attractive, she leapt up and stacked plates on the counter, then grabbed a tea towel. All madly domesticated, she thought grimly.
‘Now, look,’ she snapped. ‘We need to talk.’
‘Shall we save it till Adam’s at school?’ he suggested amiably, working away at an eggy plate.
‘No! I can’t wait! Now!’ she hissed.
‘You could shout at me more easily if he’s not around,’ Cassian pointed out, infuriatingly right.
Laura hauled in a huge breath, ready to explode, but she heard Adam thundering down the stairs and shot Cassian a vicious scowl instead.
‘All right. Later,’ she grated.
‘Look forward to it,’ Cassian murmured.
‘Hey! I just had a thought,’ Adam said excitedly, gazing at Cassian with a hopeful expression. ‘Do you know anything about Ancient Egypt?’
‘Lived in Cairo and Aswan for a couple of years,’ Cassian replied and smiled at Laura when she let out a quiet snort. ‘What do you need to know?’ he asked Adam.
And soon they were both huddled over Adam’s project, with fascinating stories being faithfully recorded—stories so well-told and interesting that Laura found herself moving quietly so that she didn’t miss a word.
There were tales of Pharaohs, of greed and ambition, murder and achievement—all woven into a tapestry of facts and figures which made them seem all the more believable.
He was amazing. A walking encyclopaedia, she thought, deciding that everything he said was probably true. A devastatingly charismatic man—and already Adam had fallen under his spell.
She couldn’t blame him. If she didn’t know Cassian’s intentions, she’d be sitting goggle-eyed at his feet, too.
Seeing her child’s awe-struck face and shining eyes, she knew that he’d be terribly hurt when Cassian revealed that he owned Thrushton Hall. And she couldn’t bear to see Cassian leading Adam on. If they did have to leave, then Adam would find it hard to deal with Cassian’s two-faced betrayal.
‘Time you went, darling,’ she said, sounding choked. ‘Got everything?’
‘Oh, Mum—!’
‘Come on,’ Cassian said cheerfully. ‘Plenty of time tonight to do a bit more after we’ve had our run.’
‘Another?’ Adam looked shocked. ‘I usually watch TV—’
Cassian shrugged. ‘Whatever you prefer—’
‘Oh, a run!’
Laura glared. This was hero worship on a grand scale and it had to stop. ‘After your normal homework,’ she put in quickly.
‘I knew that!’ protested Adam.
And Laura felt a shock go right through her. He was annoyed with her, for the first time in his life.
‘I suppose I’d better get dressed,’ Cassian said loudly. ‘I imagine towels aren’t usually worn on the school run. Be down in a moment.’
‘Sorry, Adam,’ she said quietly, when Cassian had bounded up the stairs two at a time. ‘I shouldn’t have nagged.’
‘It’s OK, Mum. I usually need reminding.’ They smiled at one another, friends again, both confused by the small crack in their relationship. ‘Isn’t he fab, Mum?’ Adam enthused.
‘Fab,’ she managed with a smile.
And suddenly the future seemed even more uncertain than ever. If they left, they’d have problems adjusting to a new and hostile world. If they stayed…
She bit her lip. She’d have to watch her own child worshiping the ground Cassian walked on. She wouldn’t be needed any more. The truth was, that Cassian had the advantage of maleness. They’d do men’s things together.
And Cassian’s extraordinary magic would act as a magnet to the impressionable Adam. She had no fascinating experiences, no exotic background or a storyteller’s gift.
She just loved her child. And, she thought forlornly, it seemed that wasn’t enough any more.
It was a long time before Cassian returned. She kept looking at the clock, wondering when he’d come back and rehearsing what she’d say.
Everything had been dusted twice, all surfaces wiped down, cobwebs whisked away. The house gleamed and smelt deliciously of lavender but it felt empty and silent after the chatter of the early morning.
Prompted by the deathly quiet, she fiddled with Cassian’s stereo and managed to make it eject the condor music and accept something called ‘Flames of Fire’.
The house throbbed to a deep and intensely sensual music that sent shivers down her spine and made her think unwisely of Cassian’s warm eyes and erotic mouth.
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Catching herself breathing more heavily than her recent bout of dusting should have produced, she decided to swap the flames of fire for something that didn’t make her erogenous zones tingle. Like a party political broadcast. But she never made the switch.
‘You there, Laura? I’m home!’
She stiffened at Cassian’s voice, coming from the hall. ‘Oh, no, you’re not!’ she muttered under her breath. This was her home. He merely owned it.
‘What do you think of the music?’ he asked cheerfully, immediately seeming to fill the sitting room with energy.
‘I was just going to turn it off,’ she grumped.
‘Do that. And get smartened up. I’m taking you off to look for a job.’
Her mouth tightened stubbornly. ‘I want to talk to you first—’
‘Do it on the way.’ He waited expectantly.
She tossed her head in defiance. ‘Don’t boss me around! I don’t like being organised any more than you do—’
‘But you need a job.’
‘I can go on the bus,’ she said, cutting off her nose to spite her face. A lift would have been marvellous. But not with him.
‘Seems silly. I’m going anyway. So if you don’t come with me, your heart to heart talk will have to wait till tonight.’ He smiled at her sulky face. ‘Come on. You might as well use me, mightn’t you? And think of the yelling you can do, while I’m driving.’
He was utterly impossible! She glared. ‘Put like that…’
With a show of reluctance, she stalked over to the door, expecting him to move aside. He didn’t, and clearly wasn’t intending to. The stereo whispered out a deeply passionate refrain that made her entire body contract.
Summoning up all her willpower, she slid past Cassian, totally, intensely aware of the feel of his moleskin trousers, the softness of his brushed cotton shirt, the flurry of warm breath that disturbed her hair…and her senses.
Hot and flustered, she scurried up the stairs. Her heart pounded as she scrabbled out of her clothes and dug out her interview suit. Bottle-green, second-hand and badly fitting. Crisp shirt, well-polished court shoes, well-worn. Ditto handbag.
