An Expert Teacher

by Penny Jordan

  'We were,' Luke told her softly in answer to her question, and although there was nothing remotely desirous in his eyes, Gemma still felt something vulnerable and feminine tremble nervously deep inside her, as though somehow he had staked a claim on that part of her that had always remained inviolate and unawakened.

  'We'd better go and join the others before they send out a search party.' She tried to sound brisk and matter of fact but she knew her voice was far from controlled.

  As luck would have it, her father and Tom were talking right outside the entrance to the marquee.

  Tom frowned when he saw them approach.

  'I've been looking for you. Gemma,' he complained. 'You promised me a dance.'

  'Luke and I…'

  'Have been finalising the details of Gemma's employment with me,' Luke interrupted smoothly. 'She's coming to work for me as my personal assistant.'

  Gemma could feel her father's anger, although he made no comment. He wouldn't want to offend Luke, Gemma recognised, so he would keep his feelings to himself. He would not dare to say to Luke the things he had said to her.

  Tom was looking equally shocked. 'I thought you were working on a project in the Caribbean at the moment.'

  'I am,' Luke agreed blandly, and Gemma had the feeling that Luke was both amused and contemptuous of Tom's startled reaction. But then he would be if he thought that she and Tom were far more than mere acquaintances, she realised, remembering their conversation.

  'I thought you wanted to dance with me,' she reminded Tom, leaving Luke's side to slip her arm through the younger man's.

  She was glad that there wasn't going to be a long delay before they left the country. She suspected that her father was not going to make life easy for her in the intervening period.

  She danced with Tom for almost half an hour. Their steps matched well and she enjoyed his company. He made her laugh with his droll self-mockery and she found herself wishing that she had made his re-acquaintance earlier. Still, her job with Luke was only a temporary one, and there would be plenty of time to pick up the threads of her old life once she got back. Even so, she found it rather disquieting to admit how much her father's pompous attitude had had to do with her rash decision to accept Luke's offer.

  On the face of it, working in the Caribbean sounded idyllic, but would she be able to cope with the tasks that Luke had outlined? She sensed that he would expect others to perform to the same high standards he had achieved himself, and she honestly didn't know if she was up to it. And then there was Luke himself. She missed a step and apologised to Tom, seeing his frown as she said lightly, 'I'm sorry, I was miles away.'

  'Thinking about O'Rourke, I suppose.'

  She was astounded by Tom's percipience, and said before she could stop herself, 'How did you know?'

  'Instinct, I suspect. You'll be careful while you're working for him, won't you, Gemma?' He saw her face and added hastily, 'Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It's none of my business, but your father…'

  'Father is afraid that people will gossip. He doesn't want his daughter's name connected with that of a man who isn't one of our small social circle,' Gemma said bitterly.

  'Well, you have to admit that O'Rourke is something of an unknown quantity, I have my own selfish reasons for wishing you weren't going…'

  His hand tightened momentarily on hers and Gemma smiled up at him, then for some reason she felt compelled to glance across the marquee. Almost immediately her glance clashed with Luke's. He was watching them with an odd expression of his face. A mixture of contempt… and what? Gemma felt her heart pound heavily as, inexplicably, she was reminded of the feeling of his mouth on hers, and of the way she had responded.

  'I suspect that few women would be immune to him if he chose to charm them,' Tom continued gloomily. 'He doesn't fit into any pre-ordained mould, does he? He's an outlaw to the rules that govern the rest of us; there's something restless and dangerous about him. Women seem to find that a fascinating mixture.'

  'I'm going to be working for him, Tom, nothing else,' Gemma pointed out gently.

  'Good… And when you come back, I want you to come out with me.'

  'When I come back, perhaps I will.'

  'It looks like David and Sophy are leaving,' Tom told her. 'We'd better go over and say our goodbyes.'

  Gemma hadn't been aware of her brother and new sister-in-law disappearing to change into their travelling clothes, but now she went forwards with Tom to kiss and hug Sophy and to tease her brother on his new status as a married man.

  Her mother, needless to say, was weeping prettily into a diminutive lacy handkerchief. She kissed Sophy with real affection and joy, and Gemma knew that she would have much more pleasure in her daughter-in-law than she had ever had in her daughter.

  She doubted that David and Sophy would waste much time in starting a family. Her parents would be adoring and doting grandparents. Sighing faintly, Gemma moved to one side to allow the bridal couple room to leave the marquee.

  Almost directly across from her she could see Luke. Clinging to his arm was Marjorie Walters. The other girl was simpering up at him, pressing herself against his arm so that her generous breasts were in danger of completely spilling over the brief top of her gown. Marjorie had blond hair and huge blue eyes. Privately Gemma had always felt vaguely sorry for her, pitying her apparently constant need for company in her bed.

  She had been married briefly, but had claimed that her husband beat her, and the marriage had been set aside. Personally Gemma had thought its failure owed more to the fact that her new husband hadn't been able to support Marjorie in the style to which her father had accustomed her than to anything else, and this slightly bitchy reflection was very much to the forefront of her mind now as she watched Marjorie's kittenish antics with Luke.

  Sophy was still clutching her bouquet, and when she tossed it in her direction Gemma caught it automatically, only realising the significance of her actions when everyone around her started to clap and laugh. Her mother of course was delighted; she was positively simpering at Tom, Gemma realised, gritting her teeth. Aware of the obvious speculation she could sense all around her, her unwary gaze became trapped by Luke's as she glanced angrily away from her mother.

  Luke wasn't sharing in the good-humoured amusement of the others. He was frowning, apparently unaware of Marjorie clinging so determinedly to his arm.

  Would he be sharing the big double bed in the flat over the garage tonight? Gemma wondered. Possibly not. She suspected that Luke was the kind of man who preferred to take his women to his own bed, rather than to share theirs. Where was he staying? At the village pub, presumably although she now remembered her father saying something about him having offices in Chester. Perhaps he also had a home there.

  It was rather odd, surely, that such a large construction company as the one Luke had built up should have offices in a small place like Chester. Wouldn't London have been the more obvious choice?

  'This looks to me very much like a good omen,' Tom whispered in her ear, distracting her, as he touched the bouquet she was holding.

  For some reason his pretty compliment irritated her. Luke would never have used such an obvious ploy; she only had to look at his sardonic expression now to know that.

  'I think it was more of a carefully planned manoeuvre on the part of my mother,' Gemma told him drily. 'She's beginning to think that I'm going to be left on the shelf.'

  That was a mistake, because Tom immediately started to reassure her that nothing was further from the case. She liked him, and he could be good fun—as a friend. The very fact that she could make such a qualification on so short an acquaintance puzzled her. It was almost as though she already knew the type of man she could love and that, having known him, no one else could come anywhere near to matching his image, which was ridiculous because she had never been in love, never found anyone with whom, she would want to spend the rest of her life. Good grief, Luke was the only man who had ever managed to stir her t
o passion; that was how ignorant of sexual desire she was.

  Once the bridal couple had left, the party started to break up. Even so, it was gone three o'clock in the morning before Gemma finally managed to get to bed.

  The following day, those members of the family who were staying in the village were expected to lunch, but Gemma made her excuses and escaped as soon after this meal as she could.

  It had been a rather strained occasion for her. Her father was very obviously furious with her while her mother was still feeling weepy and inclined to verbally lament her only daughter's wilful stubbornness.

  It was not an atmosphere that Gemma could endure for very long without exploding, so she took herself off down along the river path, pausing once to watch two otters at play, and then again when she saw a mother moorhen leading her growing brood of chicks from one river bank to the other.

  It was another perfect day; the sun seemed almost to hang motionless in the sky, and all around her the fields were heavy with their crops.

  There was something about Cheshire that was quintessentially English: black and white timber and plaster farmhouses; gently rolling countryside bordered by purple-hazed mountains; the broad, smooth-flowing river, so clear that she could see the pebbles on the bottom and the shadows of its fish. Without the slightest effort at all, it was easy to imagine oneself back in time to a different England. Not very far away from here was historic Gawsworth, with its sombre pools and its macabre story of Shakespeare's wanton lovely Mary, who had, so it was said, thrown herself into one of them rather than endure her disgrace.

  Had either of her famous lovers truly mourned her passing? Shakespeare had loved her and written about her in his sonnets, and Southampton had seduced her, but she was the one who had suffered. It was nearly always women who suffered for their love, Gemma recognised, shivering slightly, and rubbing the resultant gooseflesh from her arms. What was the matter with her today? She wasn't normally so introspective.

  Almost without intending to, she walked as far as her old meeting place with Luke.

  Finding an old tree stump to sit down on, she tried to sort out her confused thoughts. Did she really want to work for him, to leave everything that was familiar, or had she simply acted out of anger, driven to accept the job because of her father's stubborn narrow-mindedness? She moved uncomfortably on her makeshift seat, remembering how often as a child she had been criticised for being impulsive. Nothing had changed; she was still inclined to act first and think afterwards.

  'You're looking very pensive.'

  'Luke!' She sprang up at the sound of his voice and whirled round to find him leaning against a tree not five yards away, studying her. 'I didn't hear you.'

  'You were so deep in thought you wouldn't have heard a charging buffalo,' he told her drily. 'And I suspect I don't need a crystal ball to guess what about. I warned you last night, Gemma, that I wouldn't let you back out of our agreement.'

  'How did you know I was here?' She felt thoroughly confused now, thrown off course by his unexpected appearance.

  'I didn't.' He was watching her with what she could only describe as a very guarded expression.

  'Then why come here?'

  He smiled sardonically. 'Why not?'

  He was quite right, of course. Why shouldn't he come here, and why should she automatically suppose that, because he had, it meant he was looking for her?

  'However, since you are here, I hope your passport is up to date, Gemma. I want to fly out to the island on Saturday.'

  It was. She had obtained a ten-year passport three years previously for a continental holiday.

  'I'd also like you to come to Chester and sign the contract my people are drawing up. It should be ready by tomorrow morning.'

  'My goodness, you have been busy. I'm surprised that Marjorie let you out of her sight long enough for you to be in touch with your office.'

  She knew that the remark was bitchy but she hadn't been able to keep it back. To her relief, although his eyebrows rose slightly, Luke didn't seem disposed to take offence. In fact he appeared to be slightly amused rather than anything else.

  'Dear me,' he mocked, shattering her self-confidence both with the tone of his voice and the way he looked at her. 'Am I to take it from that that your night wasn't similarly pleasantly occupied? Don't worry about it. I'm sure it was only because Hardman is far too much of a gentleman to make love to you beneath your parents' roof.'

  'A reticence you don't seem to share,' Gemma snapped waspishly.

  'In regard to you, or in regard to Marjorie?' Luke countered with devastating smoothness. 'If we're talking about the latter, you're quite right of course, but on this occasion you're wrong.'

  Which left her no closer to knowing whether or not he had spent the night with Marjorie, Gemma thought in bitter frustration. Only why should she want to know? She stood stock still, staring at him with huge shocked eyes, and then swallowed nervously. What was the matter with her? It was no concern of hers who Luke did or did not sleep with.

  'When do you want me to come to your office?' she asked him huskily.

  'Tomorrow morning, if that's convenient. I'd offer you lunch but I have several appointments taking up most of the day, I'm afraid.'

  'That's all right. I… I have several things to do myself.' Nothing that couldn't have been put off, but she didn't want Luke to think that she had expected him to take her for lunch, or that she even wanted his company. Because she didn't. She was no Marjorie, constantly on the look out for a man to give her pleasure.

  She glanced at her watch. 'I ought to be getting back.'

  His smile mocked her, although she didn't know why. It was almost as though he knew something about her that she didn't know about herself. She should never have made that remark about Marjorie, she recognised, as she reached the sanctuary of her parent's garden; she had no right at all to betray the slightest degree of curiosity about his sex life. No right at all.

  CHAPTER SIX

  « ^ »

  Five days later when Gemma stood beside Luke in the departure lounge at Heathrow Airport, Marjorie, and all of her own doubts about the wisdom of accepting Luke's job offer, were pushed to the back of her mind, and all Gemma could think of was the excitement of her new life.

  The Caribbean would be a completely new experience for her. She and Luke had travelled down to Heathrow together the previous morning and they had stayed overnight at the conveniently placed Holiday Inn, in order to be fresh and on time for the early morning flight to St George's.

  On the journey down and over dinner the previous evening Luke had gone into greater detail about his Caribbean venture, and Gemma had learned that he was constructing a holiday complex similar to the one owned by Peter de Savary on Antigua. When Gemma had queried the market for two such upmarket holiday complexes, Luke had assured her that the business was definitely there. 'Some of the villas we are constructing will be sold outright, others will be operated under a "time share" scheme, and ownership of some will be retained by one of my companies and they'll be let out on a rental basis.'

  In addition to the luxurious villas and apartments, the complex was to include a golf course, tennis courts, several swimming pools, bars, restaurants, a marina, a select parade of shops; in fact, every conceivable luxury the holidaymakers could want.

  'At the moment we're only in the very initial stages,' Luke told her, going on to warn her, 'and one building site is very much like another, whether it's in Cheshire or the Caribbean, so don't expect too much. Luckily the land I purchased already included its own small harbour and beach.'

  'It sounds idyllic, but it must have cost the earth, surely? Enough land for the sort of development you're planning must be in great demand.'

  'It is,' Luke agreed, 'but I just dropped lucky. The previous owner, a man in his late seventies, was slightly eccentric in that he had his own views on how he wanted the land to be used and how he believed the local population should be treated. Luckily for me they happened to co
incide with mine. I met him quite by chance while I was on holiday over there—it was only after that I learned about his land. When the time came for him to sell, he actually approached me.'

  'Who will run the venture once it's completed?' Gemma had asked him. 'Will you move out there yourself permanently?'

  Luke had shook his head. 'No, the lotus-eating life isn't for me. I like St George's, but only in short doses. I'll appoint a manager to take charge of the complex when it's eventually finished, but I want to retain as much local labour as possible, and that's one of the reasons why I want to provide educational facilities for my workers.'

  Gemma had spent almost two full days tracking down various educational courses she thought might be applicable. She had also priced up the books and equipment that would be needed, and scribbled down tentative notes on how the course she had chosen could be tailored to fit in with Luke's requirements.

  'Postal HNC courses seem to come closest to what you have in mind,' she had told Luke the previous evening, and now, briefly, her excitement was subdued by a twinge of apprehension. What if she found the task Luke had given her was beyond her capabilities? What if…

  Luke touched her arm. 'Come on, they've just called our flight for the second time.'

  Nervously Gemma picked up her hand luggage and followed him towards the flight departure gate.

  On Luke's advice she had kept separate from the rest of her luggage a change of clothes in lightweight cotton, plus her toilet things, so that she could freshen up and change in flight if she wanted to. She had elected to travel in a cool white cotton tracksuit, that was both attractive and comfortable. The top would be pleasantly warm in the air-conditioned cabin, and the trousers were in a modern style, cut off half-way past her knees.

  Fortunately she already had the beginnings of a pretty tan from the week of good weather she had enjoyed at home. White canvas casual shoes with a blocked heel showed off the bright red polish she had applied to her toenails in a mood of bravado, and she had deliberately kept her make-up to a minimum.