won't you believe me?' she stared up at him.
'Because I know my aunt—have known her for thirty- four years,' he
said. 'She's a single-minded lady, and companionship never figured
very highly on her list of requirements before—not for herself
anyway.'
She set down her mug and gripped her hands together, tighdy in her
lap.
'There has obviously been some rift between you both,' she said. 'I
don't know what it is—and it's none of my business anyway. But she
is my employer and has teen kind to me, and I owe her some loyalty.
Maybe you're right and she doesn't need a companion. But she
pretended she did so that I wouldn't feel it was charity she was
offering. She knew I needed a job and she gave me one for the" sake
of an old friendship, and I...'
She broke off, aware that he was staring at her as if she had gone
quiedy mad.
'I'm beginning to wonder if we're talking about the same person.' He
was frowning and his eyes were intent. 'What are you talking
about—an old friendship?'
Christina swallowed. 'I've never had a proper job before,' she said. 'I
used to live with my godmother—Miss Grantham. I called her Aunt
Grace, but really we weren't related. She—she died some weeks ago,
but when she knew she was ill she wrote to Mrs Brandon and—I
think—asked her to— look after me. Hence the offer of a job, and
that's why I'm here,' she added in a rush.
He seemed almost not to have heard her. 'You were Grace Grantham's
goddaughter?'
'Yes,' she answered, bewildered. 'Why, do you—did you know her?'
'I've heard my mother speak of her,' he said curtly.
Light dawned on Christina. 'Yes, they were all at school together,
weren't they—your aunt, your mother and Aunt Grace?' She bit her
lip. 'But I never knew of your aunt's existence until she came to
England to find me. You must believe that.'
His mouth curled sardonically. 'Oh, I believe you, for what it's worth.
But it doesn't alter a thing. The best thing you Ccfn do, Christina, is
get back to England—and that's a friendly warning.'
'I don't need any warnings from you, friendly or otherwise,' she burst
out. 'And I can't go back to England yet. I have no money ...'
'God, what a mess,' he said quietly. He turned away and walked
across the room to the open door and stood looking around.
'Then it's my mess,' she said with a kind of dignity. 'I— I know things
won't be—easy, but I owe it to Mrs Brandon to—try at least to fall in
with her wishes.'
He turned on her and she shrank from the blaze of fury in his eyes.
'Then if that's what you feel—stay, and take what's coming to you.
Perhaps Tante made the right choice after all. Just don't come crying
to me when things get rough.'
She got clumsily to her feet, wincing a little as she put too much
weight on her injured ankle. Her voice shook. 'You're the last person
in the world I'd turn to—ever, Mr Brandon. I'm sorry to have put you
to so much inconvenience in the past. I'll keep my distance from now
on—and that's a promise.'
Trying not to limp, she walked past him to the door. But she was
halted before she could reach the refuge of die sunshine. His hand
closed with startling suddenness on her arm and she was jerked round
to face him.
His voice was quite dispassionate. 'That being the case, here's
something to remember me by,'
His arms pulled her closer, pinning her against him in a lingering
intimacy that set every nerve-ending in her body quivering. She tried
to struggle, but she was helpless against his strength. And then his
mouth took hers.
None of the tentative kisses that had come her way in the past had
prepared her for this—ravishing of her mouth. His approach was
utterly sensual, dark, deep and dangerous. And because he was angry
with her, there was an element of brutality as well. A strange tidal
race of sensation seemed to be sweeping through her body,
destroying the instinctive defences which her total inexperience
should have provided.
'Because I know my aunt—have known her for thirty- four years,' he
said. 'She's a single-minded lady, and companionship never figured
very highly on her list of requirements before—not for herself
anyway.'
She set down her mug and gripped her hands together, tighdy in her
lap.
'There has obviously been some rift between you both,' she said. 'I
don't know what it is—and it's none of my business anyway. But she
is my employer and has teen kind to me, and I owe her some loyalty.
Maybe you're right and she doesn't need a companion. But she
pretended she did so that I wouldn't feel it was charity she was
offering. She knew I needed a job and she gave me one for the" sake
of an old friendship, and I...'
She broke off, aware that he was staring at her as if she had gone
quiedy mad.
'I'm beginning to wonder if we're talking about the same person.' He
was frowning and his eyes were intent. 'What are you talking
about—an old friendship?'
Christina swallowed. 'I've never had a proper job before,' she said. 'I
used to live with my godmother—Miss Grantham. I called her Aunt
Grace, but really we weren't related. She—she died some weeks ago,
but when she knew she was ill she wrote to Mrs Brandon and—I
think—asked her to— look after me. Hence the offer of a job, and
that's why I'm here,' she added in a rush.
He seemed almost not to have heard her. 'You were Grace Grantham's
goddaughter?'
'Yes,' she answered, bewildered. 'Why, do you—did you know her?'
'I've heard my mother speak of her,' he said curtly.
Light dawned on Christina. 'Yes, they were all at school together,
weren't they—your aunt, your mother and Aunt Grace?' She bit her
lip. 'But I never knew of your aunt's existence until she came to
England to find me. You must believe that.'
His mouth curled sardonically. 'Oh, I believe you, for what it's worth.
But it doesn't alter a thing. The best thing you Ccfn do, Christina, is
get back to England—and that's a friendly warning.'
'I don't need any warnings from you, friendly or otherwise,' she burst
out. 'And I can't go back to England yet. I have no money ...'
'God, what a mess,' he said quietly. He turned away and walked
across the room to the open door and stood looking around.
'Then it's my mess,' she said with a kind of dignity. 'I— I know things
won't be—easy, but I owe it to Mrs Brandon to—try at least to fall in
with her wishes.'
He turned on her and she shrank from the blaze of fury in his eyes.
'Then if that's what you feel—stay, and take what's coming to you.
Perhaps Tante made the right choice after all. Just don't come crying
to me when things get rough.'
She got clumsily to her feet, wincing a little as she put too much
weight on her injured ankle. Her voice shook. 'You're the last person
in the world I'd turn to—ever, Mr Brandon. I'm sorry to have put you
to so much inconvenience in the past. I'll keep my distance from now
on—and that's a promise.'
Trying not to limp, she walked past him to the door. But she was
halted before she could reach the refuge of die sunshine. His hand
closed with startling suddenness on her arm and she was jerked round
to face him.
His voice was quite dispassionate. 'That being the case, here's
something to remember me by,'
His arms pulled her closer, pinning her against him in a lingering
intimacy that set every nerve-ending in her body quivering. She tried
to struggle, but she was helpless against his strength. And then his
mouth took hers.
None of the tentative kisses that had come her way in the past had
prepared her for this—ravishing of her mouth. His approach was
utterly sensual, dark, deep and dangerous. And because he was angry
with her, there was an element of brutality as well. A strange tidal
race of sensation seemed to be sweeping through her body,
destroying the instinctive defences which her total inexperience
should have provided.
Similar Books
