Crossing to the door, she pulled it open wider to reveal Roarke and the sexy blue-eyed blonde who had him in her feline grasp. There was no doubt in Ginny’s mind that this could only be Jenna Adams. In which case, she had a job to do.
‘Hello,’ she said mildly, though someone who knew her better would have been uneasy at the glitter in the back of her eyes. Reaching up, Ginny took hold of one of the woman’s wrists. ‘Let me help you. You seem to have got caught up on something that doesn’t belong to you,’ she said with a smile that belied the strength with which she pulled the woman’s arm down. There was no harm in letting the other woman believe she was fiercely territorial. It was, after all, what Roarke wanted.
Taken by surprise, Jenna Adams gasped and took a hasty step backwards, releasing Roarke, who took the opportunity to put some distance between them.
Warming to her theme, Ginny slipped her arm through Roarke’s proprietorially, and kept smiling at the other woman. ‘You really should be careful who you get snagged on, Mrs Adams.’
Jenna might have been temporarily knocked off her stride, but she was not the sort of woman to remain so for long. She rallied instantly, looked Ginny up and down, then tossed her head dismissively. ‘And you are?’ she asked disdainfully, which made Ginny’s lips twitch.
‘Ginny Harte,’ Ginny introduced herself, holding out her hand.
Jenna deigned to touch it briefly. ‘You must be Roarke’s latest,’ she said snidely, but that only got Ginny’s dander up. It wasn’t often that she took an instant dislike to anyone, but she was willing to make an exception for Jenna Adams. The woman was trouble with a capital T. She had been poured into a glittery red dress that clung to every curve lovingly, leaving little to the imagination.
‘That’s right,’ she said brightly. ‘And you’re Jenna…his father’s wife.’
The reminder caused Jenna to flash her eyes at Ginny, sizing her up as she realised Ginny was possibly a force to be reckoned with. ‘Roarke, darling, she sounds positively possessive. I’d be careful, or she’ll be putting a ring through your nose before you know it,’ she teased with a gurgling laugh, but she was far from amused.
Roarke smiled faintly and covered Ginny’s hand with his own. ‘I’ll take my chances.’
Jenna’s lips parted in surprise, and the flash in her eyes became almost feral as she looked from one to the other. ‘My, my, she must have something all your other women didn’t.’
Roarke glanced down at Ginny, and secretly winked at her. ‘She certainly does,’ he agreed with feeling, and Ginny almost laughed because she knew what he meant and Jenna didn’t.
Jenna took a deep breath, which put her dress under great strain. ‘Do let us into the secret. What has she got that the others don’t?’
Ginny looked her squarely in the eye. ‘Well, for one thing, I don’t have a husband,’ she said with the precision of a master swordsman, not caring if she offended the other woman or not. It was plain as the nose on her face that Jenna wouldn’t like any woman Roarke had. She wanted him for herself.
In response, Jenna laughed grimly. ‘Darling, don’t think you’ve almost got one yourself. Roarke isn’t going to marry you. He isn’t the marrying kind,’ she warned, no holds barred.
The statement hung on the air, destined never to be countered, for, as if on cue, a male voice called out from further along the corridor.
‘Ah, there you are, Jenna,’ Lewis Adams exclaimed. ‘I thought you were going to wait for me,’ he added just a little testily as he came level with the doorway.
Quick as a flash, Jenna smiled lovingly at the older man and slipped her arm through his. ‘Sorry, darling, but I just had to come and say hello to Roarke and his latest lady friend.’
There was a moment when Lewis Adams did not look best pleased, but then he smiled at his son, and Ginny believed she could see genuine warmth there. ‘Good to see you, Roarke. And you, too…’ He smiled at Ginny and she could see where Roarke had got his charm.
‘Ginny,’ Roarke introduced her, and Ginny found her hand swallowed in a firm male one.
‘Hope you enjoy your stay here, young lady. Now, we’d better get downstairs before your mother pitches a fit,’ he added with a significant glance at his son. ‘She’s been in diva mode since this morning.’
Roarke urged Ginny out of their room ahead of him. ‘Never let it be said she missed an opportunity, Dad,’ he responded to his father, who was leading the way with his wife sashaying on his arm.
Ginny attempted to remove her hand from Roarke’s arm, now that the need for it was past, but he quickly closed a hand over hers again, and when she glanced up he shook his head. Which was just as well, for Jenna looked round then, and would have thought it odd for Ginny not to be clinging to Roarke. She subsided, but holding Roarke’s arm was a completely new experience, and she found herself becoming aware of his strength. He was a powerful man in both senses of the word, yet there was nothing threatening about the strength of his body. In fact, for some weird reason, being this close, far from making her uneasy, was strangely comforting. Not a word she would usually use in connection with Roarke, but it certainly made it easier to resign herself to having to remain in close contact with him, at least for the moment.
‘Marganita always has to be the centre of attention!’ Jenna said irritably, and Ginny guessed she preferred to hold that position.
‘She can act how she wants in her own home,’ Roarke put in ironically.
‘That’s what I keep telling you, Jenna,’ Lewis told his wife.
‘Well, I don’t like it,’ Jenna complained with a toss of her head.
‘You knew how it would be. You didn’t have to come, but you insisted, so quit complaining,’ her husband advised with a touch of asperity, and Ginny’s brows rose thoughtfully.
It seemed to her that Lewis Adams was not as uncritical of his wife as Roarke assumed. Which might suggest that he was beginning to see how wrong he had been. She hoped so, for Roarke’s sake.
Back downstairs, they made their way to the drawing room, which opened on to a terrace overlooking the lake. The daylight was fading fast now, and through the opening Ginny could see lights beginning to flicker on in the houses over the water. The room itself was ablaze with light from two elaborate crystal chandeliers, which were reflected back from strategically placed mirrors, and was full of people making quite an incredible amount of noise.
‘Mother appears to have invited the whole family to dinner,’ Roarke murmured in her ear, and Ginny thought he was probably right.
She was aware that they were drawing some attention. No doubt Roarke’s family were speculating as to who she was—and how long she would last. Ginny relaxed, secure in the knowledge that she knew there was nothing between them, and that the ‘relationship’ would be over in something like forty-eight hours.
‘Your family are wondering who I am,’ she remarked to Roarke as they ventured further into the room.
‘Do you mind being the centre of attention?’ he asked, attracting the eye of a passing waiter and handing her a glass of champagne before taking one for himself.
Ginny sipped at the drink and found it a little too dry for her taste. ‘Actually, it’s quite amusing. If they only knew! In different circumstances, you and I wouldn’t come any closer than a ten-foot bargepole would allow. The sad thing is, when you turn up next time with someone else, they won’t be the least bit surprised.’
Roarke shrugged that off easily. ‘I try not to disappoint them. Ah, I think Mother is holding court over there.’ He nodded in the direction of the far end of the room. ‘We’d better go and say hello. Brace yourself.’
Ginny felt her stomach lurch. Brace herself for what? She soon found out.
When Marganita Toscari—she always preferred to be known by her maiden name—saw her eldest son making his way towards her through the crowd of guests, she let out a cry and jumped up from her seat to envelop him in a bruising hug. She broke into a veritable spout of Italian, which Ginny f
ound hard to follow, but which Roarke responded to in the same language.
Only when she finally held him at arms’ length, did she return to English. ‘Roarke, you are a rogue. I may never forgive you for not coming to visit me for months and months. What have you got to say for yourself, you devil?’ She didn’t wait for his answer, for she caught sight of Ginny hovering behind him and let out another cry, albeit softer. ‘Is this your young lady? But she’s beautiful, Roarke. Why didn’t you tell me how beautiful she was? Introduce us. I insist,’ she urged her son, all the time beaming at Ginny, who was beginning to feel uncomfortable at all the attention.
‘Ginny, this is my mother. Mother, meet Ginny Harte,’ Roarke dutifully obliged, and Ginny just caught the faint gleam in his eye as he took her glass from her before she was overwhelmed by an embrace almost as effusive as the one Marganita had given her son just minutes before.
‘Ginny, cara, I’m so happy to meet you. Come, give me a hug, for any friend of my son’s is welcome here.’
Marganita was a large lady, along the lines of the older sopranos, and hugging her was no easy matter. Ginny did her best, and surfaced pink-cheeked and flustered.
‘I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Toscari,’ she returned the greeting politely.
The older woman waved her hands and shook her head. ‘Marganita. You must call me Marganita, and I shall call you Ginny.’
It was more of a royal pronouncement than a suggestion and Ginny, getting over the shock, smiled. ‘Marganita, then.’
‘And we shall be friends, and you shall tell me all about yourself. Only not yet. Don’t go away, Roarke, there’s someone I want you to meet.’ Without further ado, Marganita scanned the room with the eye of an expert and set off in search of her quarry.
Grinning, Roarke handed Ginny her glass, and she took a much needed drink. ‘My goodness, is she always so…so…?’ Words failed her.
Roarke laughed affectionately. ‘I thought she was remarkably restrained. As a rule, she can be quite voluble. I expect it’s because her soon to be in-laws are present. She’s making an extra effort so as not to scare them off.’
Ginny pulled a face. ‘I think she’s probably easier to get along with in small doses.’
‘That’s the consensus of opinion of all her children. Otherwise, she’ll try to take over our lives—with the best of intentions, of course. My father finds it easier to get along with her now that they aren’t actually married,’ Roarke explained.
‘Roarke, caro.’ Marganita’s mellifluous tones drew their attention, and they both turned towards her. She was smiling broadly and trailing a rather disgruntled man in her wake.
Ginny took one look at that stern face, and her blood turned to ice. No! It couldn’t be, she told herself, and yet she knew that it was. Walking towards her was the man she had thought she would never see again, and had been comforted by that thought. That man was none other than her own father. Shock held her to the spot, and she was sure the colour must have drained from her face.
All she could think was: what was he doing here?
Of all the people it was possible for her to run into, her father had never been on the list. They didn’t inhabit the same world any more. Yet he was here, and any second now he was going to see her. She didn’t know what he would do, but instinct told her it would not be good. He had made his position very clear. So far as he was concerned, she did not exist. Tensing, her heart starting to beat faster, she waited for the moment when he would notice her and recognition would come. Unknowingly, she tightened her hand about the stem of her glass.
‘Mother,’ Roarke was saying beside her, but Ginny couldn’t take her eyes off the man who had come to a halt beside Marganita and who looked first at Roarke and then at her.
Recognition was as instantaneous for him as it had been for her. His reaction was also typical. Drawing himself up, his expression tightened and his face grew red with anger and distaste. If Ginny had held any hope that he might have softened his stance with the passing years, she would have been left in no doubt. That look said it all. He despised her now as much as he had ever done. Only the dictates of good manners stopped him from turning his back and walking away. After that initial moment he kept his gaze firmly averted from her.
It shouldn’t have hurt. After all this time, his displeasure should have left her cold, and yet it didn’t. Hate him though she might, for what he had done, he still had the power to wound her with his disdain. Yet she was stronger now. Tougher. She wasn’t about to turn and run. He might not want to see her, but he had no option. He would be forced to recognise her, and that brought her chin up.
Marganita was still making the introductions. ‘Roarke, this is Brigadier Sir Martin Beavis. Caroline is marrying his son, James. Sir Martin, this is my son, Roarke Adams.’
Ginny’s breath caught in a tiny gasp when she heard that. Roarke’s sister was marrying James? Her heart leapt into her throat. That meant her family were here. Eagerly, she began to look around her, searching for those familiar figures of her mother, brother and sister.
‘Pleased to meet you, Sir Martin.’ From a long way away she heard Roarke’s response, but she was diligently scanning the crowd.
Try as she might, she couldn’t see them, and was so intent on what she was doing that Roarke’s hand on her arm made her jump. ‘Sorry, did you say something?’ she asked, glancing round unwillingly. She wanted to find her family before her father knew what she was doing, for he would prevent it by any means.
A tiny frown appeared between his brows at her abstraction. ‘I wanted to introduce you to Caroline’s future father-in-law,’ he said. ‘Sir Martin, this is a good friend of mine, Ginny Harte.’
Ginny had no trouble reading the look in her father’s eyes. He interpreted ‘friend’ as ‘lover’, and made his judgement. In his eyes, she hadn’t changed, and that made her so angry. She knew he didn’t want to have anything to do with her, but right here he had no option, and she was determined to make him speak.
Raising her chin, she held out her hand. ‘Brigadier,’ she said challengingly, and knew he was caught by his own notion of what was good manners. He was forced to shake her hand. ‘It’s been a long time. You haven’t changed.’ She had always called him Brigadier, for he treated his family as if they were part of his army, laying down rules that had to be followed to the letter. Something she hadn’t done.
Sir Martin’s lip curled disgustedly. ‘Neither have you, it seems,’ he responded in his clipped military fashion, with a brief glance towards Roarke, which Ginny understood perfectly. He dropped her hand after the merest touch as if it were a live coal. Which it probably was to him.
Ginny was aware that Roarke was looking at her thoughtfully, but his mother clapped her hands in delight. ‘What’s this? You have met before?’ she beamed, believing she had brought old friends together.
‘Miss Harte was once known to my family,’ Sir Martin explained tersely.
Ginny smiled mockingly. ‘I shall look forward to meeting your son again,’ she told him, and knew he wanted to warn her off there and then, but dare not.
‘My son is very busy. I don’t think he’ll have time to meet everyone,’ her father declared, being as blunt as he dared.
‘And what of your other children?’ Ginny went on turning the screw. ‘Are they here with you?’ As soon as the question left her lips, she knew it was a mistake. She had given him an opening, and she knew he wouldn’t fail to take it. All she could do was brace herself.
Contempt flared in Sir Martin’s eyes as he went in for the kill. ‘I only have one son and one daughter. Surely you remember that?’
Ginny stared him out, but they both knew she had lost ground in their personal battle. ‘I had the impression there were more. Never mind. I must reacquaint myself with your wife and daughter, too.’
‘I’ll be sure to tell them you are here, Miss Harte,’ he responded politely, which she knew meant that he would warn them off from seeking her out. ‘Now, if
you’ll excuse me, I think I’d best see what my wife is doing.’ With a nod to Marganita and her son, he turned and walked away.
Ginny felt a hard cold knot settle in her stomach as she watched his retreating back. He wouldn’t let her see them if he could prevent it, yet he couldn’t be watching them all the time. There would be moments when his back was turned, and she would take her chance. Only…what if they didn’t want to see her? James had always followed their father’s instructions, whilst Lucy had been so young the last time she had seen her. And Mother… Her mother had been worn down years ago. She would take the chance, though, even if it turned out badly.
She sighed and looked away from him to find herself facing Roarke wearing a very serious expression.
‘So you’ve met Sir Martin before?’ he said softly, and that gave her nerves a severe jolt. She had been so intent on squaring up to her father, she hadn’t considered what Roarke was overhearing. He would have been tantalised, and she knew he was puzzling over the facts, trying to put two and two together.
She shrugged, determined to keep him off the path she knew he wanted to follow. ‘It was a long time ago. We didn’t get on,’ she added and he laughed.
‘That was patently obvious, to anyone except my mother. She still believes she’s brought two old friends together.’
They had never been friends. ‘I preferred his family to him. He isn’t an easy man to get along with.’
Roarke glanced off to where Sir Martin had vanished into the crowd. ‘He didn’t appear to want you to meet his family.’
Ginny let out a hollow laugh. ‘There’s nothing new in that.’
Roarke’s expression went from thoughtful to amused. ‘But you’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?’
Ginny met his look and started to smile with genuine amusement. ‘I never have liked being ordered off,’ she confirmed.
His After-Hours Mistress Page 5
