Point of No Return

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘But—Brian!’ she repeated crossly as he walked away again.

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ he told her in a fierce whisper. ‘You’ll wake Mum up.’

  ‘But why aren’t you allowed to tell me?’

  ‘Mr Towers thought it might be better if he talked to you about it himself, and I’m inclined to agree with him. Just remember, Megan, we need all the help we can get.’

  She frowned. ‘I’ll remember.’

  She was woken once in the night by her mother’s racking cough, making her a hot drink and sitting with her until she fell asleep again. By that time Megan was well and truly awake, so she stayed up to get Brian’s early morning cup of tea. Not that she got any further information out of him, Brian being one of those people who were totally uncommunicative first thing in the morning.

  Freda asked her to take in the breakfast things when she arrived at The Towers, and the trays of bacon, sausages, and scrambled eggs made Megan’s mouth water.

  ‘Is Mr Towers a late riser too?’ she scorned.

  ‘Oh no, love,’ Freda put the hot toast in the rack. ‘He’s been up and about the estate since six o’clock, like he is every morning. He just finds it more convenient to eat this time of day.’

  ‘Is Rod—er—Mr Meyers still here?’ Megan inwardly cursed herself for that slip.

  ‘Yes, he’s still here. Take these through, love,’ the cook put the tray of food in her hand, ‘before it all gets cold.’

  The breakfast-room was as gracious as the rest of the house, with wood-panelled walls, and the oak table was already set for two people—Jerome Towers and Roddy Meyers, both men she heartily disliked.

  The door opened behind her and she turned almost guiltily. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said ungraciously.

  Roddy Meyers sauntered over to her. ‘Is that any way to greet me, darling?’ he drawled, standing uncomfortably close to her.

  ‘What did you expect?’ she scorned, ignoring the endearment, knowing it was as false as the rest of the man. ‘A kiss?’

  ‘That’s not a bad idea,’ he said softly, his head swooping as his mouth claimed hers.

  ‘When you’ve quite finished …’ rasped a coldly angry voice.

  Megan began to struggle in earnest, but Roddy took his time removing his lips from hers, then turned to look at his brother. ‘Morning, Rome,’ he grinned. ‘Can you think of a better way to start the morning?’

  Jerome Towers’ gaze swept scathingly over Megan’s flushed features, passing insultingly over the soft curves of her body in the full scarlet skirt and black drawstring blouse she wore. ‘Yes, I can think of a much better way,’ his tone implied that it would be more intimate, ‘but with all the men Miss Finch already has in her life I doubt she would be able to fit me into her social calendar.’

  Roddy looked down at the furious Megan. ‘Men, Megan?’ he taunted. ‘And I thought I was the only one!’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘You—’

  ‘Perhaps you could fetch our coffee, Miss Finch?’ Jerome Towers requested icily, and sat down at the table, very lithe and attractive in close-fitting denims that emphasised the long length of his muscular legs, the brown shirt stretched tautly across his wide shoulders. ‘Unless, of course, you can’t bear to tear yourself away from my brother’s arms?’ he quirked a mocking eyebrow.

  She pulled away from Roddy. ‘I can do that quite easily,’ she snapped, glaring at them both.

  ‘That wasn’t what you said last night,’ Roddy drawled suggestively.

  Megan gasped. ‘Last night—? But I—’

  ‘The coffee, Miss Finch,’ reminded that cold, infuriating voice.

  She gave one last glare at Roddy before flouncing out of the room. What game was Roddy playing now?

  ‘Coffee,’ Freda put the pot on the tray for her. ‘Strong and black, the way Mr Towers likes it.’

  ‘Will I be expected to stay and pour it?’ More and more Megan was beginning to regret this offer to help out for a few days.

  ‘Oh no, love,’ Freda gave one of her beaming smiles, ‘Mr Towers doesn’t like a lot of waiting on.’

  It seemed to Megan that in the short time he had been here ‘Mr Towers’ had made his likes and dislikes well known. Well, as far as she was concerned he was one of her dislikes!

  Roddy was on his own when she returned to the breakfast room. ‘Rome was called to the telephone,’ he explained his brother’s absence at her puzzled look.

  She banged the coffee-pot down on the table. ‘What did you mean about last night? she demanded to know. ‘I didn’t even see you last night.’

  ‘No, well—You see, the—er—lady I was with last night—well, Rome wouldn’t approve of my seeing her.’

  ‘He doesn’t approve of me either,’ she said dryly. ‘Anyway, he saw me out with someone else last night.’

  ‘Who?’ Roddy asked sharply.

  ‘Mind your own damned business!’

  He drew a ragged breath. ‘What time did Rome see you?’

  ‘About elevenish, I suppose.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right, then. I was back home by ten o’clock. The—person I was seeing had to be home early, and Rome knows what time I got in.’ He gave her a considering look. ‘Aren’t you interested in who I saw last night? If you asked me I might just tell you.’

  ‘I’m not interested,’ Megan snapped. ‘What I am interested in is the fact that your brother now thinks I saw you and Paul last night.’

  Roddy grinned. ‘Mm, I suppose he does.’

  ‘Thank you very much!’

  He shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Of course it damn well matters. Why should I cover up for you? You’ve caused me nothing but trouble since I first met you.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Megan,’ he soothed. ‘What does it matter what Rome thinks of you? You obviously don’t like him.’

  ‘The fact that I dislike Rome,’ she scorned, ‘has nothing to do—’

  ‘The fact that you dislike me, Miss Finch,’ Jerome Towers came unhurriedly back into the room, ‘doesn’t mean you are at liberty to call me Rome, however sarcastically. Only close friends and relatives are allowed that privilege.’ He gave her a cold look. ‘And you aren’t either of those things.’

  Her eyes flashed like emeralds. ‘And have no wish to be,’ she snapped. ‘I was merely quoting your brother. I believe you want to speak to me, Mr Towers.’

  ‘Not right now,’ he dismissed, helping himself to the food on the sidetable. ‘I never discuss business on an empty stomach. I’ll call for you later today.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Megan bit out furiously. ‘If that’s all, sir?’ She was tempted to curtsey, his arrogance so infuriated her.

  Those dark brown eyes were glacial. ‘That is all, Miss Finch—until later.’

  ‘Yes, sir!’ She walked stiffly to the door, Roddy Meyers’ obvious amusement only succeeding in making her more angry.

  ‘And, Miss Finch—’ that softly taunting voice halted her at the door, ‘if you call me sir just once more,’ he said as she turned, ‘I’ll carry out that service you said the Squire was no longer entitled to.’

  ‘Oh!’ The door slammed behind her as she hurried back to the kitchen.

  Fool, she cursed herself. He wouldn’t really carry put that threat, he was just trying to unnerve her. And he had succeeded! That only made her resentment all the stronger.

  She had helped Mrs Reece tidy the house and was polishing the silver in the kitchen when Jerome Towers ‘called’ for her.

  In fact he came for her himself, walking into the kitchen as suddenly as he had yesterday, grinning at Freda as he helped himself to one of the freshly baked cakes cooling on a tray. ‘Mm, as delicious as usual,’ he gave the cook a warm smile, then his features became harsh as he looked at Megan. ‘I have time to talk to you now,’ he informed her coldly.

  ‘I have the silver to finish,’ she refused tautly.

  ‘Oh, that can wait, Megan,’ Freda told her with a smile. ‘You run along with Mr Tower
s.’

  ‘Run along’ just about described it. Jerome Towers made no concessions for her smaller steps as he strode along to his study. Megan found herself facing him across the desk.

  ‘Brian said you have some way of helping us,’ she said bluntly, refusing to sit down.

  ‘You sound as if you doubt it,’ he drawled mockingly.

  ‘I don’t have any reason to presume you would genuinely want to help us.’

  His eyes narrowed, his masculine vitality a tangible thing in the confines of this small room. ‘You don’t have any reason to think the opposite either,’ he rasped.

  ‘Of course I do,’ she scorned. ‘With our land The Towers estate would be back intact.’

  ‘You seem to be obsessed with that idea,’ he sighed.

  ‘Can you deny it’s true?’

  ‘I wouldn’t even attempt to try when you seem so convinced of it.’

  ‘Your proposal, Mr Towers?’ she said stiffly.

  He sat back in the leather swivel-chair. ‘It’s quite simple, Miss Finch. Your brother needs help working the land—’

  ‘Once my mother is feeling better I’ll be able to help him.’

  He looked at her slenderness. ‘Forgive my saying so, but you look as if you would be more of a hindrance than a help around a farm. I’ve offered your brother one of my workers. In exchange—’

  ‘I thought there would have to be an exchange,’ Megan taunted.

  ‘In exchange you will come to work for me here at the house,’ he finished abruptly.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘YOU have to be joking!’ she gasped.

  ‘Do I look as if I’m laughing?’ he taunted.

  Megan sat down abruptly. ‘Come and work here for you?’ she repeated dazedly.

  Jerome nodded. ‘That was the idea.’

  ‘Why?’ She eyed him suspiciously.

  ‘I’ve just explained why—you don’t look as if you would be of much help to Brian.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that,’ she dismissed impatiently. ‘I meant why should you want to save me from all that hard work?’

  ‘Would I be doing that?’ Jerome mocked. ‘I can assure you that wasn’t my intention.’

  Megan flushed resentfully at his insulting tone. ‘Then what was your intention?’

  ‘To make sure your farm is kept in line with the rest of the Towers estate.’

  ‘For what purpose?’

  He laughed softly. ‘So that it’s in good order when I eventually persuade you to sell it.’

  ‘I thought as much,’ she snapped, standing indignantly to her feet. ‘You’ll never buy our farm. Never!’

  He shrugged, unmoved by her outburst. ‘Brian and I decided, if you were agreeable to the scheme, that we would give it six months. If things haven’t changed by then your brother has decided to sell out—to me.’

  ‘He had no right to agree to that,’ she stormed. ‘It should be a family decision.’

  ‘It will be, when I have your yes to the idea. For God’s sake, Megan,’ he sat forward angrily, ‘surely you can see that it’s working your brother into the ground itself? Do you want him to die of overwork, as your father did?’

  Megan went white. ‘My father didn’t die of overwork! He was ill before we came here. He—’

  ‘I know, I know,’ he sighed. ‘I’m sorry I said that. I realise your father came out here for his health, but he would have-been better off working in an office or something like that.’

  ‘He wanted to be independent,’ she choked. ‘To try and make a life, a future, for all of us. You wouldn’t understand—’ Tears threatened to blind her, and Jerome Towers’ dark figure became hazy.

  ‘I do understand, believe me.’

  ‘You couldn’t. You’ve always been rich, always had everything you wanted, always known that The Towers would be yours one day. Whereas we—Let go of me!’ she ordered as his arms came about her. She pushed ineffectually at his chest. ‘Take your hands off me!’

  ‘No,’ he refused huskily, pulling her closer. ‘I like you in my arms, Megan. And as you just said, I always get what I want. Right now I want—’

  ‘Let go of me, you—you womaniser!’ She blinked back her tears to glare at him. ‘I suppose you’re one of those men with an exaggerated sex-drive,’ she accused. ‘One of those men who need to take a woman two or three times a week!’

  He moved back to sit on the edge of the desk, perfectly relaxed, unmoved by her verbal attack. ‘Oh, at least,’ he agreed mockingly. ‘Two or three times a week is an exaggerated sex-drive?’ he taunted.

  Colour flooded her cheeks. What did she know about such things! ‘For an unmarried man it is,’ she defended.

  ‘Maybe,’ he acknowledged consideringly.

  ‘Well, I don’t intend making up this week’s quota!’

  ‘From what I’ve seen the last couple of days you have more than enough men to satisfy your own sex-drive.’

  ‘My own—!’ she gasped. ‘How dare you! How dare you say such things to me?’ She turned on her heel and walked to the door. ‘I wouldn’t work for you at any price!’

  Jerome swung her roughly round to face him. ‘You’ll work for me,’ he told her grimly, ‘for no price. I’m not paying you—Paul will be payment enough.’

  ‘Paul?’ Her expression brightened. ‘Paul Carter will be helping Brian?’

  ‘Yes,’ he ground out. ‘But that doesn’t mean you can spend all your time with him. His time will be fully taken up with the farm, and you will be busy here. If I’d realised he was one of your—special friends,’ he drawled the words insultingly, ‘I would have chosen someone else. Unfortunately I’ve already suggested him to Brian, and he’s agreed.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ Megan smiled happily, enjoying this man’s anger. ‘Paul’s a very good worker,’ she added mockingly.

  ‘I know,’ Jerome said tautly. ‘But don’t worry, I intend getting equally good service out of you.’

  Megan flushed, not liking the way he had said that. ‘In that case, I think I should get back to cleaning the silver.’

  ‘I want it understood,’ his firm voice halted her departure, ‘that this service does not include visiting my brother’s bedroom. In fact, I would prefer it if you didn’t go out with him either.’

  ‘Would you indeed?’ she said softly. ‘Well, I really don’t think it’s any of your business. Unless you intend making that part of the bargain?’

  He had picked up the gold letter-opener from the desk-top, studying it before suddenly looking up, catching her gaze and holding it. ‘It isn’t part of the bargain, Megan, but a personal request from me.’

  ‘Request denied,’ she snapped, angry with herself for noting what nice hands he had, tanned and fleshless, the fingers long and sensitive. He handled the letter-opener with extreme delicacy, and it took a great effort of will on Megan’s part to wrench her gaze away. She had been wondering what it would be like to have those hands on her in passion, to feel such delicate caresses on her body, and her face flushed with the embarrassment of her thoughts. She faced him defiantly. ‘I’ll go out with whoever I want!’ There was challenge in her voice, and she almost breathed a sigh of relief when Jerome put the curved letter-opener down on the desk, those beautiful hands resting aimlessly back on the desk-top.

  ‘I’ve noticed,’ he taunted. ‘Two men in one night—you really believe in numbers.’

  ‘The more the merrier,’ she quipped. ‘As long as it doesn’t interfere with my work you’ll have no reason for complaint.’

  ‘No.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘I suppose I should feel flattered that you were willing to fit me into your busy schedule yesterday lunch time.’

  ‘Only because I thought you were Jeff Robbins. If I’d realised who you really where I would have turned you down flat,’ she told him insultingly.

  ‘Then perhaps it’s as well that I have no intention of repeating the offer,’ he scorned.

  ‘The answer would be no even if you did!’

  ‘B
ut I won’t.’ He smiled at her obvious anger. ‘I’m going to enjoy working with you.’

  ‘With me?’ Megan looked startled. ‘I’m going to be working for you, not with you. Unless you intend following me around the house with a duster?’ she enquired sweetly.

  ‘God forbid!’ he laughed, those brown eyes once more the warm colour of their first meeting, his usually harsh features almost boyish. ‘No, I don’t intend doing that. Maybe I haven’t explained your job function very well. In the afternoons you’ll be helping around the house, yes, but in the mornings we’ll be working together in here answering my mail and dealing with my social commitments—of which there seem to be many,’ he groaned.

  She gulped. ‘We’ll be working together—in here?’

  ‘Mm,’ he nodded. ‘It’s too cold now to work out in the garden, otherwise we could have gone outside.’

  The idea of working in the confines of Jerome Towers’ study, with the man himself, was totally unacceptable to her. She couldn’t be in his company for two minutes without falling foul of his temper, or becoming angry herself, or, more dangerously, coming to realise how devastatingly attractive he was.

  ‘In here?’ she said again, stupidly.

  ‘Yes.’ He appeared to be becoming impatient. ‘I got the idea from your brother. My original plan was for you to work full-time in the house, but when Brian told me you have training in shorthand and typing I came up with the idea of you helping me with my correspondence.’

  ‘The training I did was at school, and that’s—’

  ‘So long ago,’ Jerome taunted. ‘Brian told me you’re nineteen, so you left school three years ago. I doubt you’ve forgotten it in so short a time,’ he derided.

  ‘No, I haven’t forgotten,’ she agreed tightly.

  ‘Then the matter is settled.’ He moved back around the desk to sit down. ‘You have until Monday to get used to the idea—I’ll be in London until the weekend.’

  ‘With Stella?’ Megan couldn’t resist taunting.

  He frowned. ‘What exactly did Roddy tell you about her?’

  ‘Just that she’s your woman,’ Megan revealed disgustedly. ‘And just as replaceable as all your other women have been.’