Her eyes had adjusted to the dark now, and as the slither of moon peeped out from behind a ridge of building there was just enough silvery light for her to see that there was no sign of anyone. There was a sundial in the middle of the lawn and there were some low-lying ornamental hedges, but nowhere that Nick could be hidden from view. If her brother was outside then he must have climbed down to one of the terraces below this one. From the few occasions that Mo had been to the hotel as a child she remembered how narrow and tricky the climb down was; she didn’t really relish trying it in the dark and wearing a long skirt.
She paused for a moment, half inclined to turn back and fetch a torch from someone, when there was a noise from the next terrace. Was it the footfall of another person, or just a rabbit scampering over the path?
“Nick!” Mo called. Her voice seemed too loud against the stillness. “Nick!”
There was no reply but Mo was certain that she wasn’t alone. There was definitely somebody else out here; she could sense it in an almost primitive way. Her pulse began to skitter. Her fear was atavistic and illogical, and Mo was furious with herself for it. She’d ridden round Badminton, for heaven’s sake. Searching a deserted Cornish garden was quite literally a walk in the park.
The step to the next level had somehow managed to escape the St Miltons’ latest round of redesigning and manicuring of the grounds. This flight of granite steps was worn and furred with moss, the stone balustrades cracked and crumbling beneath her fingertips – a far cry from the almost mathematical perfection of the higher levels. The storms of the last winter had caused parts of the cliff to plummet into the sea and Mo supposed that in the name of safety the lower gardens had been closed. What better place for Nick and his friends to slink away to if they wanted to have a sneaky smoke?
This level was home to the long-neglected fountain, once a favourite spot for the wealthy owners of the old manor house, but now just a bowl filled with sludge and guarded by stone cherubs with sightless blank gazes. Two stone benches, covered with lichen and weathered by decades of storms, were placed either side. Mo remembered Alice telling her how, when she’d been courted by Ella’s grandfather many years ago, they’d spent hours sitting on one of the benches, holding hands and watching the water play in the sunlight. Nick was bound to have heard these stories too, and he’d probably decided to slip away to this spot to be sure of avoiding his older siblings. Mo felt a little glow of triumph that her brother couldn’t outsmart her.
Just as she’d suspected, there was someone there: once she was at the bottom of the treads, Mo made out the silhouette of a tall figure perched on the edge of the fountain and staring out over the inky sea. She was just about to call out when the vibration of her mobile announced the arrival of a text. Mo reached into her clutch purse and slipped her mobile out, fully expecting a panicked message from Danny asking if she’d had any luck with her search.
found N in bar - totally wasted. J and I will get him home. Gd luck with networking!
Mo stared at the screen, stunned because she’d been so certain that the figure by the fountain was her brother. Now she looked more closely, though, she could see quite plainly that this man was taller than Nick by at least a head and not nearly as burly across the chest. He also held himself with a coiled tension that was at odds with her brother’s Labrador-like enthusiasm.
The light thrown by her mobile had illuminated her and the hidden man turned to look at her. The top half of his face was masked, so Mo couldn’t see his expression fully, but she had the feeling that he was surprised to see her and more than a little irritated at having his solitude interrupted.
Who was it? And why on earth would he have wound his way down to such an isolated spot? There was no tell-tale glow of a cigarette. He was alone, so she wasn’t interrupting a romantic tryst. Neither was he checking a BlackBerry or taking a private call. The eyes behind the mask were pools of blackness and his mouth was set in a sardonic smile. Mo’s heart twisted into a tight knot; even though he was in the shadows and wearing a disguise, she knew exactly who this was, and as they stared at one another goosebumps rose on her arms.
Not good, Mo, not good. She should turn around and run now if she knew what was best for her.
“You just can’t stay away from me, can you?” drawled Ashley Carstairs.
There weren’t many occasions when Morwenna Tremaine was lost for words, but this was one of them. Of all the sodding bad luck. If there was anyone on the entire surface of the planet Mo would have wanted to see less than Cashley, she couldn’t for the life of her think who it would be. God, fate really seemed to have it in for her lately. She must ask Alice which fairy her parents had forgotten to invite to her christening and try to put things right.
“What are you doing, skulking about down here?” she demanded, crossing her arms and glaring at him.
“Skulking?” The dark eyes glittered, although whether with annoyance or amusement it was hard to tell. “You really do have the most interesting perception of situations, Morwenna Tremaine. I could ask you exactly the same question, couldn’t I? Why are you skulking about in the gardens and all alone in the dark?”
He stood up and advanced towards her, closing the distance between them with just a few strides of his long legs. His white breeches clung to and sculpted the muscular lines of his thighs and showcased a neat and tight backside. Mo glanced away quickly, shocked at herself for even looking in the first place. It was the champagne that was making her head spin and her eyes wander. It must have been much stronger than she’d realised.
Even though she’d only had a few glasses…
“I’m looking for my brother actually,” said Mo quickly. Her voice sounded high and squeaky.
“Well, as you can see, he’s not here, whichever one you want. Not unless he’s hiding under a daisy or something,” Ashley replied. He took another step forwards and Mo could smell his spicy aftershave. It made her feel nervous and she only just stopped herself from stepping back.
Cashley made her feel nervous? What the hell was that all about? This wasn’t a sensation Mo was used to – or one that she liked.
“I can see that for myself, thanks,” she said through gritted teeth.
Ashley nodded slowly. He was wearing a Venetian-style mask of gold, from the top of which sprung funeral-black plumes. He was so close to her now that Mo could feel the draught from the feathers as his head moved. The dark eyes held hers.
“Well, well, Red, looks like it’s me and you all alone in the dark. What do you think of that?”
What did she think of being alone with him, in the dark and on the edge of the cliffs? The quick answer to this was that she was suddenly more unnerved than she wanted to admit. Oh Lord, she’d annoyed Ashley for weeks, months even. PAG had thrown obstacles in his way, blocking his plans for Mariners at every turn and probably costing him more money in one year than she would ever earn, and then she’d told him exactly what she thought of him in front of everyone in The Ship. Men like Ashley were used to everyone kissing ass. They didn’t take kindly to being defied and challenged.
“What I think is that I’m going back to the hotel,” she told him haughtily.
“In such a hurry? I’m hurt.” He placed his hand over his heart, but below his mask his lips twitched upwards. Piss-taking bastard.
“You’ll get over it.” Mo turned on her heel to leave but Ashley reached out and caught her wrist, spinning her back around to face him, and she gasped.
“Take your hands off me!”
“What are you scared of?” Ashley asked. Something crackled between them and Mo attempted to snatch her hands away, trying to ignore the weird jig that her heart was doing.
“Nothing! And certainly not you! Let me go!”
But Ashley didn’t let go. Instead his grip tightened and he pulled her towards him. His other arm snaked around her waist and somehow Mo found that she was held tightly against his chest. He was even taller than she’d realised and she had to tilt her chin
right up to look at him.
“I don’t believe you; it sounds insane but I know you, Mo, and I know that you’re absolutely terrified, even though it’s just me and you here. Or is that the very reason why you’re so scared?”
His words were heavy with a suggestion that Mo didn’t want to contemplate for so much as a millisecond. In the cold moonlight his mask shone, bright and eerie, and those dark eyes seemed to see right through her.
“I’m not afraid of you!” Mo glared at him. He was still holding her close and she could feel his heart racing against her breasts. Who was afraid of whom here?
“Even though we’re all alone, Morwenna? Totally alone? How about that? If I don’t want to let you go, what can you do?”
“I’ll scream,” Mo threatened.
Ashley laughed. “Go right ahead. There’s nobody else about for miles.” He paused. “In an empty garden nobody can hear you scream.”
The implied menace in his words made Mo shiver. As always her first defence was attack and she was pretty sure she could fight him off. She had five brothers, after all, and had learned early on in her childhood that some of life’s battles were physical. Symon still had a Harry Potter style scar on his forehead from the time he’d tried to wrestle the TV remote from her and change the channel over from coverage of Hickstead – and she’d once knocked Zak out by accident.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, her blue eyes narrowed and her curls bobbing with rage. “Are you going to bump me off? Drown me in the fountain maybe? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? There’d be nobody then to stand in your way when you try to destroy the environment and ruin the village.”
Ashley laughed. It was a deep mocking sound and it did strange things to the hairs on her forearms.
“Drown you in the fountain? That’s certainly tempting, but no, I don’t think so. Not this evening anyway.”
“Throw me off the cliff then?” Mo suggested. “Smother me with a wad of your money?”
He pulled her closer and lowered his head so that this time the feathers brushed her cheek and she felt his warm breath against her ear.
“How unimaginative you are, Red. I can think of much better things to do to you than any of that,” he murmured. “And I know you’re thinking about them too. I can see it in those gorgeous angry eyes of yours.”
His hands were on the bare skin of her shoulders now, the fingertips skimming over her flesh before falling to trace her collarbones and just stopping above the swell of her breasts. All this time his intense gaze never left her face.
“It’s a crime that all this is usually hidden under a fleece,” he remarked huskily. “Christ, you’re a beautiful crosspatch, Morwenna Tremaine, absolutely beautiful. What am I going to do with you?”
Mo’s heartbeat thudded in her ears like Mr Dandy’s hooves across the paddock. Something very peculiar was going on. She really ought to slap him hard and walk away but she was frozen, her stomach cartwheeling as though she was about to leap the biggest ever fence, because Ashley was right. She was thinking about what he could do to her – and none of her wild imaginings involved murder. Instead, and to her absolute bewilderment, she was thinking about how much she wanted him to make love to her.
“You could kiss me,” she whispered, shocked at herself but unable to hold the thought back. It was like having an out-of-body experience and Mo didn’t think she could have avoided it if she’d tried.
Ashley’s inky pupils dilated but before he could say another word, or she was able to stop and think straight, Mo reached up and wound her fingers into his dark hair, pressing her mouth against his and gasping as his lips met hers with equal urgency. Their tongues duelled in passion just as effectively as they did when they argued, and when Ashley pulled his body against hers there was no finesse or tenderness, just an all-consuming hunger that matched her own. One of his legs moved between hers and Mo couldn’t help herself drawing him even closer, and gasping in pure pleasure because those tight breeches left nothing to the imagination.
“Is that a hedge fund in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?” Mo murmured, tilting her head back as his lips trailed molten lava kisses over the tender skin of her throat while his thumbs traced the swell of her nipples through the thin fabric of her gown.
“Stop taking the mickey,” Ashley told her. His teeth nipped at her earlobe before his mouth moved back to claim hers again, causing Mo to forget everything except arching closer to feel every delicious sensation. She was melting, her whole body like Cornish ice cream left out in the sunshine, throbbing and aching for more. She didn’t think she’d ever felt so turned on in her entire life, and when he drew his mouth away from hers and moved his hands back up to her shoulders it was nothing short of torture.
“For your information, for once I am most definitely pleased to see you,” Ashley said softly, his eyes still holding hers and his fingertips tracing shivers all over her body. “I always knew it was going to be good with you, but I had no idea just how good.”
Something about the way he said this, maybe it was his utter certainty that this moment had been a foregone conclusion, was enough to make Mo’s desire-dazed brain whir back into life.
“What do you mean, you always knew?”
Ashley’s lips quirked upwards. “This. You and me. I could feel there was something from the moment we first met and I knew you could feel it too. You’ve always wanted this. Why else would you have gone out of your way to be so difficult? It’s wasted far too much time.”
Mo stared at him. The passion of seconds earlier that had heated her blood to volcanic temperatures was starting to cool rapidly, bubbles of boiling desire popping away just like the bubbles in the champagne she’d clearly had far too much of earlier on.
“Difficult?” She could hardly believe her ears. “You think I was just being difficult? You arrogant bastard! I believe in all those principles!”
Ashley sighed. “So touchy, Mo. Maybe ‘difficult’ is the wrong word. Feisty? Angry? Trying too hard to go against everything I did? I knew when you came around to my way of thinking that there’d be fireworks between us. Playing hard to get is always as sexy as hell.”
Mo’s libido did a massive U-turn. This was the sexual equivalent of a bucket full of iced water.
“You think I was playing hard to get?”
Ashley shrugged. “Call it what you like. I’m useless with words. Trying too hard to fight your feelings? Not wanting to give in? Using the woods as a cover when really you were terrified of how you felt? Come on, Red; don’t look at me like that. There’s no shame in it. You want me just as much as I want you.”
Mo’s head was spinning. I always get what I want was what Ashley had said in the pub that night – and it was true, wasn’t it? Money, houses, planning permission, beautiful woodlands; the list was endless. What he wanted he would always get. This was just another move in his twisted game of social chess.
Well, he wasn’t having her!
“I do not want you,” Mo hissed. “Don’t kid yourself. I’ve had too much to drink and you’ve taken advantage of that.”
Ashley ripped his mask off. His face was almost as unreadable without it but a raised eyebrow implied that he didn’t believe a word she was saying. Why should he, Mo realised with despair, when only moments ago every part of her had longed for him, her body reacting to his with ferocity and an urgency that appalled her now? She was hardly able to believe it herself.
“We both know that’s rubbish,” Ashley said with a calm confidence that made Mo want to scream. “You want me and I certainly want you.” His gaze roved over her body and suddenly Mo felt far too aware of the thin and clinging silk of her dress that showed every swell and curve. His eyes flickered back to hers. “We’re the same, you and I, Mo. Don’t fight it. Just enjoy it.”
She shook her head. Mo was damned if she’d be Ashley’s latest conquest. This was just a game to him, and no doubt there was a queue of identikit skinny blondes, dressed in
Musto and thrilled to be whizzed around the bay on his penis boat and then whisked up to the hotel for a five-star meal and presumably a five-star shag. He was messing about with her, that was all, and she’d almost been caught up in it. Of course she knew that she wasn’t Ashley’s type. He hated her. This was just another of his devious mind games.
Yet there was a tight knot in her throat because – for a strange few moments, anyway – she’d felt a genuine connection with him and part of her had cried out to that with a passion that had completely taken her aback. Amazed and horrified to find she was so hurt, Mo glowered up at him.
“We are not the same,” she said so icily that it was a wonder the garden didn’t frost over. “I actually care about things, whereas you’re just playing games.”
“That’s not fair,” said Ashley. He glanced down at the impressive bulge in his breeches and then looked back at her. “From where I’m standing it feels like you’ve been playing with me. Anyway, this was your idea as I recall?
There was a glint in his eye as he said this and Mo was livid with herself.
“I meant about the woods!”
“The bloody woods again?” For a second he looked defeated. “Look, can we talk about all that later? Start again? Everything I say has all come out wrong. I can’t think straight when I’m around you. Come here, Mo. Let’s not waste time.”
“I don’t think so,” said Mo, ignoring the pounding of her blood as his dark eyes raked her body hungrily. “This was all a big mistake. I don’t even like you, Ashley.”
Again, his lips curled into that sardonic smile. “Who said anything about liking me? You don’t have to like me, Mo. Anyway, somebody once told me that love and hate taste pretty much the same on a woman’s lips. Shall we see if that’s true?”
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