Lady Surrender

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘You might regret not listening to me,’ she suggested with soft emphasis.

  ‘I doubt that.’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s important.’

  ‘Just as making sure you have varnish on your toenails is important to you, no doubt!’ he looked contemptuously at the offending toenails, the varnish the same deep shade as her fingernails. ‘You look like a damned slave-girl!’

  ‘Is it a crime to want to look nice?’ she snapped defensively, sick of his criticism.

  ‘I suppose not, when it’s all you have to do all day,’ he dismissed harshly.

  ‘It isn’t!’

  ‘I’m sure it isn’t,’ he derided with a humourless smile. ‘Now let’s get this over with,’ he added decisively. ‘I’ll throw in a necklace to match the bracelet, arrange for you to stay at a hotel until you can find—somewhere else to live,’ his mouth twisted. ‘As long as you move out tomorrow and don’t bother Matt again.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’ she challenged.

  His mouth thinned. ‘As I said, I could make things very unpleasant for you.’

  She smiled, confident that this man could do nothing to hurt her. ‘You’re going to feel extremely foolish when you realise what a mistake you’ve made,’ she assured him.

  His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re staying in Matt’s apartment, there’s no mistake about that.’

  Charly could sense he was becoming uneasy about her cool control, her smile widening. ‘No, there’s no mistake about that,’ she agreed.

  ‘And that story about the fire is pure fiction,’ he accused.

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Oh to hell with this!’ he moved restlessly. ‘The jewellery will be delivered to you here tomorrow morning, make sure you leave then.’

  ‘Don’t you think you should talk to Matt before doing this?’ she reasoned.

  ‘No, I don’t!’ He slammed out of the apartment.

  Charly’s breath was expelled in a tense sigh, shaking her head to suddenly look down at her watch; she was going to be over an hour late for her dinner date.

  But she couldn’t help wondering, as she drove to the restaurant, what Aaron Grantley’s reaction was going to be once he had spoken to Matt tomorrow.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE office building of Hartall Industries was one of the most attractive and luxurious in London. Charly’s father had always maintained that to be someone you had to look like someone. Fortunately his business partner had agreed with him, and from simply looking someone the two men had become someone.

  She greeted most of the employees by name as she made her way across the reception, to the private lift, and up to the top floor. Another of her father’s sayings, when you were someone, it was pure stupidity to forget the people who helped you stay someone. He had been on a first-name basis with everyone who worked for him, from the errand boy to his highest executive. Charly couldn’t boast the same yet, but she had only been in charge just over a year, and most of that time had been spent learning how to be the Chairwoman of Hartall Industries.

  ‘Get Ian Anderson for me, please, Sarah,’ she instructed her secretary on the way through to her own office, feeling at ease among the comfortable opulence of the solid oak desk, cream leather suite, dark brown carpet, several of her favourite paintings on the walls. She had made several small changes since she took over, but not many, having helped with the original design of the office.

  Rocharlle Allenby-Hart. Was she really the ‘rich bitch’ Aaron Grantley had accused her of being? It was true that her parents were already very rich by the time she was born, and she, a late addition to their lives, had wanted for nothing. It was also true that James had been extremely rich when she married him. But whoever had quipped ‘money can’t buy you happiness’ had known what he was talking about! She was richer now than her parents or James had ever been, had made even more of a success of the company since she took over, but her parents were gone, and so was James. And she certainly wasn’t happy.

  She picked up the receiver on the second ring, having been lost in thought as she stared out of the window. ‘Yes, Sarah?’ she prompted briskly.

  ‘Mr Anderson is on line one,’ her secretary informed her lightly.

  For a moment she had forgotten her request for Sarah to call him. ‘Put him through,’ she instructed softly.

  ‘Charly, now lovely to hear from you.’ The man who had been her father’s lawyer before hers, greeted her cheerfully. ‘I was going to call you myself later.’

  ‘Ian,’ she returned abruptly, able to visualise the senior partner of Anderson, Anderson, and McCloed in his book-lined office, the decor comfortable to say the least, not at all musty and dusty the way most people imagined a lawyer’s office to be. Ian was another advocate of her father’s rule, his offices were the epitome of elegance and comfort. ‘I’m not sure you’ll still be pleased to hear from me at the end of this conversation,’ she added ruefully.

  ‘Oh?’ he prompted guardedly.

  Charly smiled; Ian had a lawyer’s usual reserve, despite knowing her for years. And this time perhaps he had reason to have; she was very displeased about the turn her negotiations for Shevton House had taken. ‘Aaron Grantley knows the identity of his competitor in the Shevton House deal,’ she came straight to the point.

  ‘Are you sure?’ The frown could be heard in his tone of voice.

  ‘I spoke to the man myself yesterday,’ she revealed with a sigh. ‘Or rather, he spoke to me,’ she amended ruefully, remembering the conversation—vividly. No one had ever made the assumption before—erroneous or otherwise—that she was any man’s mistress, not even James’. ‘He left me in no doubt that he was well aware I was the other party interested in the deal. I told you I wanted my involvement kept strictly private,’ she reminded hardly, having been completely shaken the evening before when Aaron Grantley had so casually mentioned her interest in a deal she had considered not to be public knowledge. Years of hiding her true feelings had enabled her to hide her shock, but nevertheless it had greatly disturbed her.

  ‘I’ve done exactly as you instructed, Charly,’ Ian sounded concerned. ‘You don’t suppose Shevton himself would have—’

  ‘He would have if he knew I was behind the second offer he received—did he?’

  ‘Well, I may have mentioned—’

  ‘Ian, I told you not to reveal my identity,’ she cut in angrily.

  ‘I know,’ he soothed. ‘But the man was proving difficult, and I thought he would keep the information to himself. He wanted to make sure the house that’s been in his family for centuries wasn’t going to be knocked down and the estate built on. I had to tell him who you were to convince him you didn’t have anything like that in mind, that’s why I was going to call you later. I had no idea Grantley would actually confront you with the offer. I also have to tell you Shevton leans more towards you, he doesn’t particularly want the place to be turned into a hotel.’

  ‘You told him my plans for the house?’ she demanded sharply.

  ‘Of course not,’ Ian denied. ‘But he knows the way you do business.’

  Charly sighed. ‘He now also knows who the two bidders are and can play one off against the other.’

  ‘I had to stall him in a hurry,’ Ian defended. ‘Otherwise he would have let the deal go directly to Grantley; he wasn’t much in favour of letting it go to an anonymous party for mysterious reasons.’

  ‘Very well, Ian, I can see you didn’t have any choice,’ she accepted heavily. ‘But I’m not happy about the situation.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ he acknowledged ruefully. ‘But I knew this was one deal you wouldn’t want to lose, and I couldn’t contact you last night when I called your apartment.’

  ‘I’ve been staying at a friend’s,’ she explained in a preoccupied voice.

  ‘I’m really sorry about all this, I had no idea Shevton would tell Grantley who you were.’

  ‘It’s done now,’ she dismissed abruptly. ‘Keep me informed on you
r progress—or lack of it,’ she added flatly, knowing they were in for a long haul.

  ‘I will. And, Charly, I really am sorry,’ he sighed.

  ‘No harm done,’ she assured him with more confidence than she felt. Richard Shevton would have had to have been told of her identity eventually, she knew that, just as she couldn’t dictate what he did with that information. He must be more of a businessman than she had realised, she decided. The congenial owner of Shevton House and its surrounding thousand acres didn’t come over as being shrewd when it came to business, but Charly knew better than anyone how deceptive appearances could be.

  ‘Sarah.’ She looked up with a smile as her secretary came in answer to her call. ‘I have a feeling a Mr Aaron Grantley will either be telephoning or coming here in person some time today; I want you to make sure he knows I’m unavailable,’ she frowned. She had no doubt that when Matt told the other man she was Rocharlle Hart he would demand an explanation from her. She would have given him one last night if he had given her the opportunity to do so. Now she didn’t feel that she owed him anything, after all he was the one who had jumped to conclusions.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Hart,’ Sarah looked puzzled by the request.

  Charly gave a rueful smile. ‘He’s been making a nuisance of himself.’ That wasn’t exactly a lie, he was a nuisance, and she also knew Sarah would be even more determined to keep Aaron Grantley at bay if she thought he was one of the numerous men who believed it would be nice to marry her money. She had met a lot of them the last year.

  ‘I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you,’ Sarah told her firmly.

  She didn’t normally need help to deter the sort of man she had implied Aaron Grantley to be, had been brought up as Rocharlle Allenby, had cut her adult teeth on fortune-hunters. One of the pluses in becoming James’s wife was that he had been even richer than she. But of course he had wanted something from her far more important to him than money, and marrying her had instantly given him that.

  By late afternoon she had begun to think she had been wrong about Aaron Grantley’s next move; there had been no contact from him. Then just after four she heard raised voices in the outer office. Aaron Grantley didn’t sound as if he were accepting Sarah’s claim that she wasn’t available. Charly thought of going to the younger woman’s rescue, but that would only make a liar out of Sarah. It would also make her look ridiculous. She realised now she should never have given Sarah that instruction, should have known Aaron Grantley wasn’t the sort of man to be fobbed off with such an excuse.

  She stood up slowly as her office door was flung open, the man himself standing there, very dark and attractive in an iron-grey pin-striped suit. His eyes narrowed on her, and Charly tried to see herself as he must see her, the long golden hair confined in a neat pleat at the back of her head, the black business suit and white blouse with its bow-neckline smart rather than feminine. She looked completely different from the woman he had met the previous evening.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Hart.’ Sarah glared at Aaron Grantley. ‘He just pushed past me,’ she muttered indignantly.

  ‘It’s all right, Sarah,’ she soothed. ‘I’ll deal with Mr Grantley myself,’ she added hardly.

  The green eyes glittered vengefully. ‘I know we argued last night, sweetheart,’ he murmured huskily, crossing the room to her side, ‘but I don’t think that’s any reason to be so formal.’ He put his arm about her waist to pull her close to the hardness of his body. ‘After all, we are engaged to be married,’ he said challengingly, his head bending down to hers.

  Charly only had tome to register Sarah’s gasp of surprise before coolly firm lips claimed hers, his arms about her, one of his hands pressed to the back of her head, preventing her moving away. He kissed her with deliberate thoroughness, savouring the taste of her lips, the probing of his tongue only withdrawn as Charly’s small white teeth bit down sharply on the tender flesh.

  ‘Vixen!’ he grated before turning to Sarah with a totally charming smile. ‘A lovers’ quarrel,’ he drawled.

  Sarah looked totally disconcerted, and Charly couldn’t blame her!

  ‘Mr Grantley—’

  ‘Sweetheart, do stop calling me that.’ His eyes promised retribution if she didn’t! ‘And do let this young lady leave so that we don’t embarrass her any further with our disagreement.’

  Charly gave him a furious look before turning to her secretary. ‘Thank you, Sarah.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘I can handle this now.’

  ‘Can you?’ Aaron Grantley challenged softly’ after Sarah had left them, the younger woman still frowning her confusion.

  ‘Yes,’ she snapped, moving pointedly away from him. ‘I gather you’ve spoken to Matt.’

  ‘Graphically,’ he drawled.

  ‘I’m sure,’ her mouth twisted. ‘So now you know I’m the “rich bitch” who is trying to ruin your bid for Shevton House.’

  He grinned, looking about the room appreciatively ‘Mrs Hart apparently likes to surround herself with luxury,’ he derided.

  ‘Mrs Hart earned this luxury,’ she told him tightly, taking the bronze sculpture of a horse out of his hand and placing it back on her desk-top.

  ‘That isn’t what I heard,’ he mocked, stretching his long length out in one of the armchairs, watching her through narrowed lids. ‘You took over when your husband died. Which brings me to the point of why you lied about your name yesterday,’ he added sharply.

  ‘I didn’t lie.’ Her eyes flashed silver. ‘My name is Allenby.’

  ‘Was,’ Aaron Grantley corrected abruptly. ‘Before you married the son of your father’s business partner seven years ago. Maybe you did earn this company after all,’ he derided. ‘The marriage was certainly a convenient one.’ He raised mocking brows.

  ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you—’

  ‘I doubt Rocharlle Hart ever explains herself to anyone. How did you ever get a name like Rocharlle, anyway?’ he taunted.

  ‘My parents.’

  ‘That’s obvious,’ he dismissed mockingly. ‘But it isn’t what I meant.’

  ‘Rowena and Charles,’ she explained impatiently. ‘When they were told I was to be an only child they named me after both of them.’

  ‘It would have been easier to call you Charlotte after your father,’ Aaron Grantley derided.

  It would have been a lot less embarrassing too; her unusual first name had been a talking point all her life. ‘You didn’t come here to talk about my name—’

  ‘In part I did,’ his voice hardened. ‘Why didn’t you tell me last night who you were?’

  ‘For the same reason you came here today and acted as if our engagement were a reality; which incidentally I want you to correct before you leave—I was angry,’ she bit out. ‘Matt innocently told you I was staying at his apartment, and then because you were told it was a woman and not a man as you had supposed you assumed I had to be his mistress.’

  He shrugged broad shoulders, perfectly relaxed. ‘I’m still not sure that isn’t true.’

  Charly gasped. ‘I thought you said you had spoken to Matt?’

  ‘I have,’ he nodded. ‘But like you, he doesn’t feel he has to explain himself. He’s mad as hell at both Molly and me for jumping to conclusions,’ he added ruefully.

  ‘He’s told Molly the truth?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ Aaron Grantley derided. ‘Apparently she’s a little emotional at the moment, and he seems to think we’ve complicated the situation by pretending to be engaged, believes that if he told her the truth now Molly would think he had something to hide.’

  Charly sighed. ‘I’m inclined to agree with him.’

  ‘I’m willing to accept that,’ Aaron Grantley nodded. ‘Although Molly’s emotional state seems a little convenient to me.’

  She gave him a disparaging look. ‘Are you always this suspicious?’

  ‘Only when I find a beautiful woman staying at my best friend’s apartment,’ he drawled.

  ‘I hope to be moving out at the
end of the week,’ Charly snapped.

  ‘To go where?’

  ‘My own home, of course,’ she told him impatiently.

  ‘Ah yes, the one that’s been damaged by fire.’

  ‘Mr Grantley, I don’t care for your tone—’

  ‘And I don’t care for this whole charade,’ he rasped, his eyes bright with anger. ‘Especially now that I know the woman I’m engaged to is also the woman who’s interfering in my property deal.’

  ‘There are some that would say you have that the wrong way around, Mr Grantley,’ she returned coldly.

  ‘Aaron,’ he instructed tensely. ‘Shevton was on the point of accepting my offer when you came along with a better one,’ he scowled.

  ‘And you counter-offered.’

  ‘And so did you,’ he ground out. ‘How high are you prepared to go?’

  ‘I don’t believe that is any of your business,’ she snapped indignantly.

  ‘What the hell does Hartall Industries want with a house like that and a thousand acres?’ His eyes were narrowed.

  Hartall Industries didn’t want them at all; the offer to buy was a purely personal one. But obviously Aaron Grantley wasn’t aware of that, at least.

  ‘I suppose you plan to turn it in to yet another hotel?’ she scorned.

  His mouth tightened. ‘You have to see that it would be ideal.’

  ‘It could have other uses,’ she dismissed.

  ‘Don’t tell me, as a health-farm for all your over-indulged friends,’ he derided. ‘Or perhaps as a clinic where they can go to “dry out”,’ he added contemptuously. ‘I hear that’s very fashionable nowadays.’

  ‘I don’t have any friends that need to “dry out”,’ Charly snapped at his condescension. ‘Just as it’s none of your business what I do with Shevton House once I’ve bought it.’

  ‘If you buy it,’ he corrected gratingly. ‘Which you won’t,’ he said confidently.

  ‘I wouldn’t put money on it,’ she warned him softly, her grey gaze calm and confident.

  ‘It’s perfect for what I want,’ he announced arrogantly. ‘The building itself, and its location in that little cove is ideal too. You aren’t thinking of going in to the hotel business yourself, are you?’ he mocked.