Ivory Innocence (9 page)

"I'm aware of that," he said evenly, his glance flicking over her, lingering momentarily on the outline of her breasts beneath the T-shirt. "You're getting sunburned. Put your sweater on."

Ivory glanced down at her arms, seeing that he was right; her skin was reddening even though she had kept to the shade as much as was possible. Untying her sweater, she slipped it on. But as she shook out her hair, she caught Rob's eye and saw his moody, suspicious look.

"I do burn easily," she said defensively.

"I know that," Rob muttered. "I've known you for most of your life. Remember?"

Ivory stared at him, belatedly recalling that he had just proposed to her. And she hadn't given him an answer.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your, er, friend?" Matthew said quietly.

"Yes, of course. Mr. Kendrake, this is Rob Garth. He lives at Top Farm. He's Becky's brother."

Matthew held out a hand. His narrowed eyes perused Rob, who hesitated for a moment before sticking out his own hand.

"Now that I'm here," Matthew said smoothly, "I can relieve you of the trouble of taking Ivory and Janey home. I'm grateful to you for looking after them for me, Mr. Garth, but I'm sure you have other things to do."

His gaze locked with Rob's. The young farmer stood with clenched hands and set jaw, but eventually backed off from a confrontation. "Yes, I've got to get the horse-box back to the farm. I'll… see you soon, Ivory."

As he strode away, Ivory watched him unhappily, wondering why she had let Matthew walk in and take charge so easily. There ought to have been something she could say, some protest that would have put him in his place as her employer, not her keeper. But in fact, she had not been anxious to prolong her meeting with Rob. Matthew had rescued her from what might have proved to be an awkward situation—though he needn't have done it so high-handedly.

"I had no idea he was a friend of such long standing," Matthew said, tilting a quizzical eyebrow. "Did he say he'd known you most of your life?"

"Yes, we—" She hesitated, glad of the sunglasses that hid her confusion. She could hardly say she had lived in Hedley Magna since she was four years old, or he might guess the rest. "His family were friends of my grandparents. Rob and I have… kept in touch."

"How nice for you," Matthew said mockingly. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything just now."

Her nerves all stood to attention. The need to practice deception irritated her. "Only my day off," she said shortly.

"You've been able to try your wings for a whole week now," he replied, one corner of his mouth lifting wryly. "I understand you've been making the most of my absence by taking Janey out for trips. Along with your old friend Rob Garth?"

"He's much too busy with his farm," Ivory retorted. "Anyway, those outings were educational."

"Naturally, you being so conscientious in your work. There's no need to go on the defensive, Ivory. I have no objections to your taking Janey out. Last time I was angry only because you left her with strangers."

She opened her mouth to say that the Garths were not strangers to her, but the memory of how that day had ended made the words die in her throat. And something about the way Matthew was looking at her told her that he, too, was recalling their last encounter.

"I'd better go and find Janey," she said hurriedly.

"Yes, do that. Bring her to the car. It's quite near the gate."

There was no escape from having dinner with him that night. As she came down the stairs, he stood in the dining room doorway lazily surveying her loose summer dress.

"That's better. Why do you spend your days in those hideous jeans? They're so unfeminine."

"They're comfortable," Ivory said. "And they're practical. I'm a teacher, not a decoration." She paused in front of him, waiting for him to move aside. But instead he leaned casually against the doorjamb.

"You could be both, if you tried," he said in a low voice. "In fact, you accomplish the miracle without trying. You're—" The phone rang sharply in the hall and he broke off, swearing under his breath. "I'll get that. Tell Mrs. Barnes to start serving."

Wondering exactly what he had been about to say, Ivory sat at the table as Mrs. Barnes ladled out soup. She could hear Matthew's voice, though his words were not clear, and she awaited his return nervously, fearing the trend of that broken conversation. In a flattering mood, he could be formidable. She had not forgotten how easily he had made her respond to his kisses. Every time she was near him she felt tense and prayed that he would not touch her. If he did, her bones might turn to jelly again.

But when he came back, he had apparently forgotten what he had been saying earlier. He took his place at the head of the table with a curious glint in his eye.

"We've been invited to a party."

"We?" Ivory said in disbelief.

"You and I. That is, Carla is inviting me and Corin is inviting you. A Midsummer's Eve dinner party, at Meddlingham Manor. I said we would go."

Her eyes widened as she remembered why the name Forsythe had seemed familiar. Meddlingham Manor was the home—the stately Elizabethan home—of Lord and Lady Forsythe. Carla and Corin must be their offspring.

Midsummer's Eve arrived. Bathed, perfumed and groomed, Ivory stood in front of her long mirror and wondered if she had gone a fraction too far. The dress was a clinging white sheath with a bow-tied halter neck, the skirt split up the side to well above the knee. Over it went a voluminous cloak of silky diaphanous material that shimmered with gold and bronze lights. Her grandmother would not have approved.

On the other hand, Ivory mused, turning this way and that as she lifted her arms to watch the effect, it was very subtle. With her hair caught up in a silver-gold coronet and her makeup echoing the colors of the shimmer, she looked as though she belonged at Hedley Hall—the last of the proud line of Meldrums. Her ancestors would have visited Meddlingham Manor without a second thought, and now so could she. She felt that they would be proud of her.

In delicate gold sandals, she left her room and went down the stairs. Matthew stood in the hall, lean and elegant in evening dress, his thick hair still unruly despite the attentions of a comb, and his skin very dark against a brilliant white shirt. Ivory moved slowly, aware that he missed nothing of the sight she made. She saw his blue eyes flare as he drew a sharp breath, then his expression was veiled again, as was hers. She daren't risk him knowing that she longed to be clasped against that white shirt, to let her fingers tousle his hair even more.

"A pity," he said with a slight shake of his head. "A long dress. It's a shame to hide your legs."

"Is that why you object to trousers?" she asked boldly.

"On you, yes."

Exhilarated by the effect she was having on him, Ivory lifted her arms and slowly spun round, allowing him to see one slender leg beneath the split dress. Matthew's face was expressionless when she faced him again, but she was aware of the tension beneath that carefully arranged blankness. For once she did not fear the hidden desire in him but welcomed it as the beginning of her triumph. She could use it for her own ends.

She smiled shyly at him, her gray eyes sparkling behind long, dark lashes. Tonight she was a Meldrum. Let all Kendrakes beware.

"You're ready for our little charade, are you?" he said abruptly, turning to open the front door. "Let's go."

As they approached the door to Meddlingham Manor it opened to reveal a uniformed butler, who bowed and announced their names to the gathering in the vast hall. Around the stairs and in the adjoining rooms, beneath vast pictures in gilded frames, people laughed and chatted over drinks, the men all in evening dress, the women wearing bright colors and glittering with jewels. Matthew's hand beneath Ivory's elbow guided her into one of the rooms where antique furniture and cases of china were set off by long velvet drapes. More people stood or sat, glamorous and wealthy, making Ivory feel out of place.

"Matthew, darling!" Carla in a swirl of shocking pink with a large expanse of tanned midriff showing, her red hair decked with pink flowers, rushed over to them. She ought to have looked horrible, Ivory thought, but to her chagrin, the effect was stunning.

Beside the vividly dressed girl, Corin beamed at Ivory with boyish delight.

"I see you've brought nanny," Carla said with a laugh, though her green eyes darted hatred at Ivory. "We'll let Corin look after her. Come over here, darling. I want you to meet some people."

And she dragged Matthew away. Corin claimed Ivory's arm.

"I'm so glad you could come," he said, drawing her toward an alcove where drinks were being served. "I've been frightfully busy or I'd have been over to the Hall to see you before now. It's too bad of Matthew to keep you all to himself."

"He doesn't," Ivory said. She glanced behind her, but Matthew and Carla had disappeared into the throng. "I'm just his employee."

"Not tonight you're not," Corin said stoutly. "You're my guest. And you look simply marvelous. What would you like to drink?"

For a few minutes Ivory let a strange misery have its way with her. But then Corin's flattering attentions restored her spirits. Matthew, after all, was a grown man and should be able to cope with Carla. What did he expect Ivory to do? She could hardly separate him from the redhead without appearing to be jealous, and that she certainly was not. The very thought was ludicrous. She didn't want Matthew Kendrake. Let him fight his own battles.

She smiled at Corin and allowed herself to enjoy his open admiration. But every now and then she sought out Matthew's dark head, visible wherever he happened to be in the room since he was one of the tallest men present. He appeared to be thoroughly enjoying himself. And so would she.

Dinner was served in a vast dining room still boasting its original Elizabethan paneling, ornately carved and darkened by time. Three sets of French windows had been left open to the sunset, a warm breeze drifting in to flutter the candle flames as the guests sat down at two long tables. Ivory found herself beside Corin, unable to see Matthew. Occasionally she heard Carla's high-pitched laughter above the murmur of conversation.

A different wine was served with each course, and soon Ivory found herself flirting with Corin, her inhibitions vanishing on a cloud of euphoria.

Afterward, she could never quite remember how she came to be in that dark arbor. Most people drifted into the gardens after the meal, to smoke cigars or simply enjoy the scent of moonlit flowers during a stroll around the twining walks and stepped pathways. Music floated from the house. Somehow Ivory found herself in the shelter of a summerhouse, where Corin had his arms round her and was kissing her enthusiastically. She seemed to remember clinging to him with a kind of desperation, as if willing him to take away the memory of Matthew Kendrake's warm lips and hard arms.

Then someone else appeared out of the shadows, someone who forcefully separated her from Corin and laid an iron hand around her wrist to drag her, stumbling, to a car. Blinking hard in a vain attempt to clear her head, she watched the trees rush past with the moon sailing behind them as the car drove swiftly along country lanes.

She sat up and put a hand to her head, which seemed about to fall off her shoulders. "Nobody asked you to rescue me."

"You weren't sober enough to ask." Matthew seemed about to explode with anger. "Good grief, in another few minutes he might have—"

"He wouldn't! I'd have stopped him."

"How? By passing out? You were incapable of stopping a child on a tricycle."

Sighing, Ivory let her head roll onto the rest above her seat. "Don't go on at me, Matthew. I'm tired."

"You're drunk as an owl!"

She squinted up at him in the drifts of silver light. "Do owls get drunk?" She imagined a family of owls hiccupping and cross-eyed; bubbles of laughter rose up and shook through her. It seemed the funniest thing ever.

She was still laughing helplessly when the car stopped. Her door opened and Matthew pulled her out, none too gently.

"For heaven's sake!" he said tightly. "What's so funny?"

"You are!" Ivory spluttered, trying to move away. But the ground wouldn't stay still and she stumbled against him, feeling the world spin as he held her close, steadying her.

"Ivory!" he muttered in a voice that shook. His lips sought hers feverishly and he nibbled a burning trail across her cheek to her earlobe and the soft area beneath it. "Ivory!"

Her body began to respond to him and she clung to him tightly, borne away on the magical tide. All thoughts of repulsing him vanished; her fingers buried themselves in his thick wavy hair and smoothed his strong shoulders.

His firm mouth possessed hers again, her lips parting on a sigh of delight. He folded his arms round her and kissed her deeply and she pressed closer to his warmth, her fingers caressing his ear and cheek. She was lost in the sensual power of his hands and mouth and the hard warm body so close to her own she could feel his desire for her matching her own needs.

She moaned as his hand found her breast, her senses all alive to him. The Meldrums could go hang. She wanted Matthew Kendrake to make love to her.

Suddenly he lifted his head, his eyes blazing down into hers as he held her arched against him like a pliant willow and she stared back at him with helpless pleading, her pupils dilated, her mouth swollen and soft with desire.

"Thanks for the invitation," he said gruffly, "but make it again when you're sober."

Feeling sick with shame, she turned and ran for the house, tears stinging her eyes as she wondered what on earth had possessed her to lead him on that way.

She took a shower as hot as she could stand, hoping to rid herself of the wanton female who had led her astray. Far from revenging herself on him, she had let Matthew work his devilish spell on her senses. She hated him. Hated him! So why—oh, why?—was he the only man who could make her bones melt and her blood run like hot wine? It didn't happen with Rob; it hadn't happened with Corin. Only Matthew Kendrake could make her feel totally alive.