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Authors: Sara Craven

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BOOK: Past All Forgetting
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Janna replaced the telephone receiver and stood for a moment, her knuckles pressed childishly against her teeth. She felt totally shaken, not merely by Colin's news, but by the anger and petulance he had displayed in the telling of it.

She had tried to console him, in spite of her own inner turmoil, by telling him that there would be another house for them, but her efforts had been useless. Colin had wanted Carrisbeck House and had been thwarted, and the frustration revealed a totally new side of his character.

She went into the sitting room and sank down on to the sofa, feeling limp. In some ways she could understand his reaction. To many people in Carrisford and the neighbouring villages, Colin and his father were still mere newcomers to be tolerated rather than dales people. Colin, she was sure, had felt that his acquisition of Carrisbeck House would have altered this—that he would in time fill the position in the community that Colonel Tempest once had done. But Janna was not so sure about this. She wondered even if Colin's motives might not have been fully comprehended and resented by the local people. At any rate, such speculation was now a waste of time. Colin would have to find a new way of establishing himself as the new 'squire'.

And if Colin himself was so peevish in his disappointment, she shuddered to think what Sir Robert would say. The only glimmer of brightness in the dark cloud that seemed to be descending on her was that she did not have to face having her future father-in-law living in such close proximity.

Now there was her mother to tell. This was another prospect that Janna did not relish. Mrs Prentiss would undoubtedly want to know why Janna had not informed her that Rian was back and with a small child in tow, who was actually going to be Janna's pupil. Janna sighed. That was how her mother would see it—a piece of interesting and slightly scandalous news to be imparted over the coffee cups. She would certainly not understand why Janna had kept it to herself.

Janna could not fully understand it herself. It would have been so much simpler that way—to mention it casually in passing. 'Oh, by the way, guess who's back?' Now it was too late, and by her silence she had invested Rian's return with an importance that her mother's shrewdness was unto overlook.

But these were minor worries compared with the actuality of Rian's presence as a permanent resident in Carrisford. Of all the places in the world that he had visited, what had drawn Him back here to this quiet market town in the shadow of the Pennines? How could he bear to come back to all the memories that Carrisford must evoke, and live in the house from which he had been dismissed in disgrace? When it became generally known that he had been forced to buy his uncle's house and not inherit it as in the normal course of events, she knew that speculation would be rife. And all eyes would be on him anyway because of the child Fleur. He had not always regarded public opinion with such arrogance, she told herself unhappily.

She got up with sudden resolution. No matter what the cost, she would have to see Rian—try and persuade him to change his mind. Could she make him see that no purpose could be served by him living here? If he wanted his revenge on her, then he had already achieved that, by effectively destroying her peace of mind.

She found her suede coat and tugged on matching knee-length boots, then called to her mother that she was going to the library, snatching up a couple of books from the sideboard.

As she walked hurriedly down the long sloping street that led to the market place, she wondered what she would do if Rian was not staying at the White Hart after all, but a swift glance at the hotel car park before she passed under the archway leading to the hotel entrance reassured her. That exotic-looking foreign car he had been driving was there, so he could not be too far away.

The glamorous Barbara Kenton who had once caused her such heart-searchings had vanished from the reception desk long ago and was now reputed to be working as a night-club hostess in Leeds, and the young girl who now filled the job of receptionist looked doubtful when Janna, in a voice she tried hard to make calm, asked for Rian.

No, the girl admitted when pressed, she hadn't
seen
him go out, but breakfast was over a long time ago and he didn't spend much time in the hotel. At last, Janna managed to elicit Rian's room number from her, and said that she would check for herself. She was aware that the girl was watching her with interest as she crossed the small foyer and went up the stairs to the first floor.

At the top, she paused and took a steadying breath, aware that her heart was beating with unusual violence. Her mouth was dry and the palms of her hands felt suddenly clammy. It would not have taken much persuasion for her to have turned and run back the way she had come, but she knew that was impossible. She had to conquer her feelings—see Rian and find out what he intended.

Once before, she thought helplessly. Once before she had climbed a flight of stairs to seek Rian's room—a search that had ended in disaster for them both. It was the memory of that night and its consequences that made her hand shake as she knocked hesitantly on his door.

It opened so swiftly that she was caught completely off guard, her lips parted and her eyes wide and startled. Rian Tempest, tall and lean in faded blue jeans and a dark roll-collared sweater, stood looking down at her. A mirthless smile twisted his mouth, lending no warmth to his dark face or the bleakness of his eyes.

'Come in, Janna.' With an over-elaborate wave of his hand he invited her to precede him into the room. 'What kept you?'

She hesitated, then walked swiftly past him, her head bent, unnerved by the knowledge that he had been expecting her. Colin had apparently been right with his implication that she was predictable, she thought.

She looked uncertainly round the room, catching her lips in her teeth as she noted the double bed, neatly made under its candlewick coverlet. Was there any significance in this? she wondered. Perhaps Rian being here alone. Was just a temporary thing. After all, Fleur had a mother, and no one locally knew what her relationship with Rian was at present.

Rian saw where her glance, was directed and his smile widened unpleasantly.

'Nervous, Janna?' he inquired. 'You have no need to be, you know. The burned child fears the fire—remember?'

The colour rose in her pale face. 'No,' she began. 'You're
mistaken—I don't…'

'Am I?' His voice was sceptical. 'Perhaps I'd better leave the bedroom door open. Then the chambermaid will hear you—if you feel obliged to scream "Rape!".'

She shuddered convulsively. 'Don't say that word!'

'Why not?' he asked harshly. 'You did—once. Or did you think that might have slipped my memory? I can assure you it hasn't.'

'No, I didn't think that,' she said wearily. 'May—may I sit down?'

'If you want.' He gestured towards two rather uncomfortable-looking easy chairs drawn up on either side of a small electric fire set in the wall. 'May I take your coat?'

She shook her head, giving a slight unconscious shiver. Rian's lips tightened as he regarded her, then he walked past her to the small meter beside the fire and fed a couple of coins into it before switching it on. The bars began to glow almost at once, and he turned back to her.

'Better?' he asked ironically.

'Thank you.' Rather helplessly aware that she no longer had any excuse to keep it on, Janna unfastened her coat and slipped it from her shoulders before sitting down. She knew that Rian's eyes were going over her, taking in the plain grey flannel skirt, and the simple round-necked pale pink sweater she wore with it. 

'My God,' he observed after a moment. 'The transformation into the country schoolma'am is almost complete. Who would have thought it?'

She flushed again, pushing back some strands of dark hair which had fallen forward on to her cheek..

'Yes,' he went on, 'the change is quite remarkable. Forgive me if I dwell upon it, but I'm trying to reconcile your present image with the one you presented at our last eventful meeting. It's—not easy.'

He walked over to the table beside the bed and extracted a cigar from a silver case. He lit the cigar before returning to the fire, and flinging himself into the chair opposite her. He blew out a cloud of smoke and studied her through it with half-closed eyes.

'Whatever happened to her, I wonder—that girl in the white lace trouser suit and damned little else who danced like an amalgam of Salome and Cleopatra? Has your estimable fiancé ever been permitted to catch a glimpse of her, or have you buried her for ever under an avalanche of cashmere and tweed and sensible shoes?'

'Oh, please.' Janna pressed her fingers against heir hot cheeks. 'Can we leave Colin out of this discussion?'

His brows rose. 'Is that possible? I wouldn't have thought so—under the circumstances. But perhaps I've misunderstood the motivation for this visit.'

Their eyes met and Janna's glance was the first to fall away.

'I don't think so,' she said lamely. 'You—you must be able to guess why I'm here.'

His eyes narrowed. 'I'm not in the mood for guessing games, Janna,' he said succinctly. 'And you weren't always so reticent about your feelings. Suppose you tell me just what's going on in that devious little mind of yours.'

Desperately she moistened her lips. 'Rian, why have you come back?' The words came out in a frightened little rush. Is it—does it have anything to do with me?'

There was a brief pause, then he laughed, a soft, jeering sound which nevertheless held a note of menace that chilled her.

'Why, yes, sweet witch.' The words were light, but not so the tone they were uttered in. 'But then you never really doubted that for a moment, did you?'

She shrank back into her chair, gripping the wooden arms so hard that her knuckles turned white.

Her voice shaking, she said, 'What are you going to do?'

Reflectively, he studied the glowing tip of his cigar.

'Now that I haven't decided yet. When I do come to a decision, you will be the first to know, I promise you, Janna. In the meantime, it won't do you any harm to be on tenterhooks for a little while.'

She leaned forward, her eyes pleading with him. 'Do you suppose I haven't been—for the past seven years?'

'Poor Janna.' He gave a careless shrug. 'But if you knew that I'd come looking for you eventually, then why are you still here?'

'Because I couldn't think of anywhere else to go,' she said unevenly. 'I couldn't think of anywhere I would be safe.'

'Your instinct was right, of course.' He drew deeply once more on the cigar before crushing it out in the ashtray beside his chair. 'Wherever you had run to, I would have found you in the end.'

'I didn't mean simply safe from you,' she said wearily. 'I—I had to be safe from myself as well.'

He laughed sardonically. 'So you decided the only safety was in staying and facing the music, whenever it came. I congratulate you, Janna. The little girl grew up at last and found her courage. Hang on to that courage, sweet witch. You're going to need every last ounce of it by the time I've done with you.'

She bowed her head defeatedly. 'Oh, Rian, have mercy on me,' she whispered wretchedly.

'Following your own example, no doubt.' His voice lashed at her. 'No, Janna. I've entertained a number of feelings towards you over the years, but I can't say that mercy has ever been among them. You'll take my medicine, darling, in whatever dosage I dictate to you.'

She got up, stumbling a little in her haste, feeling the tears pricking the back of her eyelids and wanting to escape from that suddenly stifling room before they overwhelmed her. She reached for her coat, but Rian was there before her, plucking it from the back of the chair and holding it for her to put on with a smile that told her he understood quite well this sudden urge of hers to be gone.

Biting her lip, she thrust her arms into the sleeves, and felt him slide the garment on to her shoulders. She wanted with every breath in her body to walk away from him to the door, but his hands remained on her shoulders, compelling her to be still. Then, as she stiffened in sudden outrage, he let his hands slide forwards down her body, lingering over the soft roundness of her breasts.

'Your clothes may have changed, Janna, but your body hasn't.' His voice was wicked against her ear. 'Not all my memories of you are unhappy ones, you see.'

She wrenched herself free with an incoherent cry and swung round on him, her hand flying up instinctively to strike at his face. But he parried the intended blow with consummate ease, catching her wrist in a grip which caused her to cry out in pain.

'I don't advise it,' he said coolly. 'I doubt if you're prepared for the sort of retribution I should exact.'

He released her hand almost contemptuously and she stood, staring up at him and rubbing her numbed wrist where the marks of his fingers showed plainly. He was looking at her hand.

'That's a beautiful ring you're wearing, Janna. A man would have to think a great deal of a woman to invest in that sort of ice. I would give it back to him, sweet witch. Far more dignified than making him have to ask you for it.'

'You swine!' she said between her teeth, and he laughed for the first time with a note of genuine amusement.

'That's more like the Janna I used to know. I thought she was dead when you came here asking for mercy instead of spitting in my eye as you would have done once, and daring me to do my worst.' She turned angrily to the door, but he detained her. 'You've surprised me today, Janna. When you arrived, I thought you'd come on behalf of your fiancé, to add your weight to his plea to me to give up Carrisbeck House in his favour.'

'Colin did that?' Janna gasped. 'I don't believe you.'

He shrugged. 'Ask him,' he advised. 'He won't have for the conversation. I doubt whether he's ever offered anyone so much money in his life before and been refused.' He lifted a sardonic brow at her. 'When you showed up, I thought for one optimistic minute that he might be sending in the big guns. Getting you with your womanly wiles'— he let his glance drift significantly towards the big bed— 'to achieve what he with his money could not. Life is full of these little disappointments.'

BOOK: Past All Forgetting
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