by Jane Corrie
He thrust her a glinting look. 'Boy-friend backed out?' he asked with grim amusement. 'Your mother died six years ago,' he said harshly. 'I can even tell you how; in a car crash after having imbibed a little too much of her favourite beverage. Now this—er— mother,' he said musingly, 'she'd be genteelly bred, of course, down on her luck, probably through gambling losses and just right for your proposition. Of course, it wouldn't work unless you had some sort of family, would it? You needed a respectable background—could be tricky on your own home ground, though, so she probably resides elsewhere, called in as it were when necessary. It's been worked before, of course, quite successfully too. When the fish is landed there's a share-out and little monthly payments, not too much, but just enough to keep the bogus parent happy.' He gave the stunned Serena another glinting look. 'You didn't really think I'd fall for that, did you?'
It occurred to Serena that if she ever did break free from Jordan Kerr's pernicious hold, she might well take to a life of crime; it would be a pity to waste the first-class training she was receiving! Answering his last taunt, she said abruptly, 'No, Mr Kerr, I can't say I can see you falling for anything, particularly when it doesn't suit your convenience. You've got it all taped, haven't you? I must say I'm a little intrigued over what sort of an apology you'll give after meeting my mother. After the treatment I've received, it had better be a good one,' she muttered darkly.
As he swung the car into his drive, he answered casually, 'As it's such an unlikely event, I shouldn't worry your head about it. Why didn't you mention this mother of yours before? It's a little late to bring that tactic into play, isn't it? Or is she likely to make trouble if she thinks you're running out on her?'
Serena did not answer simply because what he had said was partially true—she ought to have told him about her mother; it might have helped earlier—now it was too late. She now wished she had never mentioned her, for she could have arranged to slip out and meet that plane and apprise her of the facts. It was a situation that would appeal to her immensely, and Serena knew she could rely on her to come up with some story to fob off a visit from Roger in the near future. Serena sighed. She always seemed to think of these things afterwards. If Jordan Kerr hadn't had such a chip on his shoulder he might have seen that she wasn't half so bright as he credited Lisa Tonetti with being.
The car slithered to a halt outside the house and Jordan got out. Serena, not waiting to be assisted, also got out and walked towards the steps to the house. To her intense irritation he placed a hand on her arm in what could hardly be called a loverlike hold and she shrugged it off furiously.
Giving a low laugh, he then placed an arm around her slender waist and clamped her to his side. It was a hold Serena couldn't break and she knew this was only the start of the evening. 'Must you be so brutal?' she said in a low voice. 'It doesn't help, does it?'
'It's the only way I can stomach the whole business,' he replied curtly. 'I haven't your experience in double-dealing. I must say I'm a little disappointed in you,' his eyes held hers mockingly. 'You're passing up a golden opportunity. I'm rich and fancy free.' His hand increased its pressure and Serena winced. 'You never know,' he said silkily, 'there just might be something in it for you.'
Serena had a cold feeling again—he was challenging her, and she only wished she had the courage to take him up on it, for she could make things very unpleasant for him as she recalled his barely disguised distaste of her nearness when she had danced with him the previous evening. Her eyes sparkled; she would do it! This time the idea hadn't come too late! She would positively drool over him! He had wanted to create the impression that they were in love, hadn't he? And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it while they were in company. Afterwards… Serena decided she wouldn't dwell too much on that part of it. No matter what happened it would be worth it!
CHAPTER NINE
Long afterwards, Serena wondered how she had found the courage to carry out her plan of discomfiting Jordan Kerr, for it was one thing telling herself she would do so, quite another carrying it out!
She did not attempt to bring the tactic into play until they were in full view of the assembly, then she shamelessly clung to his arm and almost chuckled at the start he gave. With no little satisfaction she watched his jaw harden and a glint appear in his eyes that promised retribution at no late date; but Serena refused to be intimidated.
As his arm pinned hers to his side he murmured in a low undertone, 'There's no need to overdo it. I abhor clinging women.'
Smiling at one of the guests standing a little way beyond them, Serena replied sweetly, 'I'm only following your advice. Stupid of me to waste such a golden opportunity. Remember, Jordan, darling, I know all the tricks.'
She knew by the indrawn breath that she had infuriated him and there was simply nothing he could do about it.
Myrna and her partner, a Mr Canning, an elderly retired colonel, left the dance floor and joined Mrs
Simpson just as Serena and Jordan approached. Myrna was looking particularly stunning in an apricot velvet off-the-shoulder gown that highlighted her fair colouring, and it occurred to Serena that she might well have reminded Jordan of his lost Maria. Men, she mused, were apt to be attracted by one particular type of woman—not, she thought, looking at Myrna's cold blue eyes, that anyone in their right mind could call her eyes baby blue, more like ice blue, she thought, as they rested on her for a brief second.
Completely ignoring Serena, Myrna placed a proprietorial hand on Jordan's free arm and gazed up at him coquettishly. 'I absolutely demand the next dance, darling,' she murmured throatily to him.
Serena almost felt sorry for Jordan. He must have longed to accept the invitation so seductively offered, but could hardly do so with Serena clinging to his other arm. Taking pity on him, she removed her arm and giving him what she hoped was a brilliant smile murmured with the same throaty intonation as Myrna, 'Do go ahead; I've no right to monopolise your company.'
Having seen Gerald approaching, Serena was confident she would at least be able to enjoy one dance and smiled at him as he joined them. To her fury Jordan decided the matter by firmly taking her arm and smiling half apologetically at Myrna, suggested, 'Later, perhaps?' and led Serena on to the dance floor.
While she waited for Jordan to take her hand and place his arm round her waist for the opening steps of the dreamy music Serena consoled herself that he was not likely to ask her to dance again—she would see to that.
As before, his clasp on her hand was light, and she had no difficulty in disengaging it and placing it on his shoulder to enable her to move closer to him; a move she had seen carried out by her more uninhibited friends and one Serena would never have dared to imitate not even if she had felt attracted to the man in question—and when the man was Jordan Kerr… She felt him stiffen and knew he was appalled at the bold move. Again, there was nothing he could do about it; they were in full view of the whole room and any attempt to thrust her away from him would not fail to be seen.
His free arm now had to go round Serena, completely enclosing her, and she winced as he jerked her closer and made herself go pliant in his arms.
His voice was harsh as he spoke close to her hair. 'Is this part of the softening-up process? Pity it's going to be wasted, isn't it?' he jeered softly as he swung her round swiftly so that she was jerked against his hard lean body in quick succession.
When Serena had partially recovered her breath she threw caution to the wind and muttered, 'Just try and get me to dance with you again—I'd rather go to jail!'
His answer was a low chuckle. 'Nice to know you're enjoying it as much as I am, but you asked for it.'
Miserably Serena had to acknowledge the truth of this, but for once Jordan Kerr was as uncomfortable as she was, and that fact alone gave her some consolation.
However, it did serve to achieve her aim, for although the band immediately struck up another melody, Jordan did not request an encore but suggested they seek refreshment, a suggestion Ser
ena was only too happy to agree with. Her waist felt as if it had just been released from an iron band and she wondered if the bruises would show later.
If Jordan was hoping for a short respite from the outward appearance of dancing attendance on her, he was doomed to disappointment, as the first people they encountered as they entered the supper room were no other than Mrs Simpson and a friend of hers. Mrs Simpson immediately pounced on him.
'Jordan! Margaret has just told me she hasn't seen the portrait of the first Jordan Kerr. I was just telling her of the likeness. Do you think we could go and see it now?'
Sensing that it was a move on Mrs Simpson's part to detach her from his side, Serena was all for it; she was almost sure he would accompany the ladies and not waiting to hear his answer walked towards the buffet in search of a long cold drink.
'Serena?'
To her extreme annoyance Serena found him beside her before she had swallowed a mouthful of her drink.
'I'm sure you'll find the portrait interesting,' he said smoothly, not giving her a chance of refusing. 'Shall we go?'
Putting down the drink, Serena forced herself to sound interested. 'Of course,' she said airily, meeting Mrs Simpson's snapping black eyes.
'We're honoured, you know,' Mrs Simpson commented casually. 'Myrna's the only one so far to be given a private viewing.'
Serena wondered if she felt better after having got that broadside in.
Staring at the life-size painting a few minutes later, Serena had to steel herself to suppress a shiver as she gazed at the cold eyes of the man in the portrait—and not only in front of her, she thought nervily, but at the side of her as well. The likeness was uncanny, the only physical difference being in the colour of the eyes. The pirate's were a dark blue, whereas Jordan Kerr's were that curious light green. It was hard to believe that the man she was looking at had lived centuries ago, yet the man whose eyes she could feel boring into her and standing by her side dressed immaculately in a dark tuxedo could have stepped straight out of the picture.
Her thoughts were echoed by Margaret, who exclaimed, 'It's uncanny, isn't it?' in an awed voice.
Serena knew Jordan's eyes were still on her as he answered casually, 'I believe the resemblance is there in more ways than one.'
'What nonsense, Jordan!' simpered Mrs Simpson. 'From what I hear of the island's history that gentleman gave no quarter. Of course,' she added magnanimously, 'things were different in those days. He had to be hard to survive.'
'Precisely,' murmured Jordan, and again Serena sensed his eyes on her. 'Given the same circumstances, I, too, would give no quarter.' He dismissed Mrs Simpson's eager attempt to refute this sweeping statement with a careless wave of the hand towards the portrait. 'Believe me, my ancestor and I have a lot in common. Now, shall we join the other guests?'
After this little interlude it was doubly hard for Serena to revert back to the clinging stage with Jordan. Her every instinct cautioned her to keep her distance; she knew his words had been for her alone, a veiled warning to her not to cross him.
Ushering Mrs Simpson and her friend out of the library, he mockingly held his arm out for Serena's hand and she was forced to accept it, but he did not miss her reluctance, and as they followed the others back to the ballroom he inquired softly, 'Lost your enthusiasm? I would have thought my worthy ancestor would have suited you admirably—in a way he had a lot in common with you, he took what he wanted, too.'
'Yet you persecute me and glorify him,' Serena grated back in a low voice. 'How many lives did he take in getting what he wanted? I would rather my conscience than his!'
She found herself swung round to face him. He held her in a biting grip close to him and had either of the two ladies in front chanced to turn round at that precise time, they would have gained the impression that Jordan was kissing her. However, no such thought was in his mind as he surveyed her through hooded lids. When he spoke his voice was harsh.
'What he took, he took fair and square. Fought for it. He didn't wait until the coast was clear and sneak in the back way, nor,' he added scathingly, 'did he rob his friends.'
He released her abruptly and Serena turned away from him quickly. There was nothing she could say to that—nothing he would believe anyway, she thought dully.
As she wearily prepared for bed later that evening, Serena's thoughts were centred on her mother and her proposed visit the next day. As no further mention of the subject had been made by Jordan Kerr, she presumed he had dismissed it as a story she had thought up to gain her freedom. It looked as if it was the first piece of luck she had had for some time, and she was determined not to make a hash of it. Her mother must be told of the bizarre situation she had landed herself in and go back to New York by the next plane if necessary, and apprise Roger of the facts. He could then come armed with all the necessary information to outflank Jordan Kerr. Serena, banging her pillows into a more comfortable shape, dwelt on this happening with relish. Why, she would be so grateful to Roger she might even consider marrying him!
Her brow creased as she thought of Mrs Tonetti. An excuse would have to be found to cover her absence. She would say she had some shopping to do—of course, she could tell her the truth, but on thinking it over, Serena decided against this. It might worry the old lady, and she might feel duty bound to invite her mother to the chalet and that would mean all sorts of complications. Serena felt the situation was complicated enough without adding more!
During her solitary breakfast the following morning, she rehearsed in her mind what she would tell her mother. There wouldn't be time to go into details. Roger had to be made to understand that his visit concerned only Jordan Kerr, and no one else, and that the information Mrs Belmont gave him should remain strictly private.
Having got everything clear in her mind, Serena was able to greet Mrs Tonetti with a bright smile when she joined her later and answer her query as to whether she had enjoyed herself the previous evening and whether Jordan had brought her back.
Serena knew Mrs Tonetti was trying to gauge just how interested Jordan Kerr was in her and felt it wise to play it down. In the not too distant future the 'interest' would be non-existent and Serena would be sunning herself on the deck of a luxury yacht and wondering why she had allowed herself to be pushed around by a modern version of Long John Silver!
Her musings were interrupted by the appearance of Molly, who told her she was wanted on the telephone. Feeling a stab of apprehension, Serena went to take the call. Had her mother taken an earlier flight? Giving a cautious 'hallo', she was half relieved to hear the deep voice of Jordan on the other end of the line—relieved, that was, until she heard the reason for the call.
'I'm picking you up at eleven-forty-five,' he said curtly.
Serena did a double-take; whatever happened she didn't want Jordan Kerr around today of all days. 'I've decided to spend the day with my grandmother,' she said sweetly. 'Tomorrow, perhaps?'
'Liar,' he said softly. 'You didn't think I'd forgotten your—er—mother's arrival, did you? Eleven- forty-five,' he repeated slowly, and put the phone down on her.
'Jordan has other plans, I take it?' said Mrs Tonetti behind her.
Serena forced herself to sound gay—not easy when she wanted to shout and rave, either that, or howl her eyes out, but she was even denied this luxury. 'I'm afraid so,' she managed to say with a weak smile. 'He's calling later.'
Mrs Tonetti nodded happily. 'I thought so,' she smiled.
Serena looked at her as she settled herself in her chair. If only… 'Mrs Tonetti—Nan,' she began quickly. 'Oughtn't you to tell him?' she pleaded gently. 'It makes me feel such a fraud.'
Smiling fondly at her, Mrs Tonetti replied softly, 'If he loves you, dear. It won't make the slightest difference, you know.' Her smile faded and a frown creased her finely lined forehead. 'It's just that I'm not entirely convinced…' She was silent for a moment as if weighing the matter up, then she looked up suddenly to find Serena worriedly watching her and smiled at her. 'I pr
omise to tell him should it become necessary—don't look so worried, dear.' The faded blue eyes now held the pleading look. 'In my own way, Serena. It's not going to be easy, but if it's making you unhappy…'
'No,' Serena replied hastily. 'It's not that, it's just that I felt he ought to be put in the picture.' She managed to bring a light note into the conversation.
'As you say, there's time enough for that if things get out of hand—and I can assure you,' she added firmly in order to take that anxious look away from Mrs Tonetti's expression, 'that I'm still heart-free and likely to remain so. Your Jordan is a bit too dominant for my liking. I much prefer the easy-to-manage types, saves a lot of arguing in the long run, you know.'
Watching Mrs Tonetti's frown replaced by her delightful smile, Serena breathed a sigh of relief. She might be in trouble, but it was infinitely preferable for things to remain as they were than to cause her kind hostess further misery.
Serena watched the plane touch down with mixed feelings. It was now up to her mother; she was very conscious of Jordan Kerr's grip on her arm in case she made a bolt for it or attempted to forewarn what he thought was her accomplice.
As the passengers streamed down the gangway, Serena had no difficulty in picking out her mother. Her ridiculously flimsy hat with layers of chiffon would not have looked out of place at Ascot, come to that, nor would her dress of shantung silk, Serena thought, and in spite of her anxiety she felt a spurt of pride. Who else but her mother would have dared to wear a hat like that?—not only dared, but carry it off so magnificently. She heard Jordan Kerr give a derisive snort as Mrs Belmont, spotting Serena, held her hands out towards her in an affectionate welcome as she approached them.
'My congratulations,' he said softly. 'You've got her well trained, but I should imagine she's a little on the expensive side. I hope she's worth it!'
