The Vengance Affair Read online

  'It's no,' she sighed impatiently. 'It isn't you that frightens me, it's—' She broke off awkwardly, not com­fortable with admitting it was fear of her own response to him that made her so reluctant to be alone with him again.

  But wasn't she alone with him now? Couldn't Beau just as easily kiss her here and now, and still be able to melt her bones to water, her resistance to quivering jelly? Of course he could, but he was hardly likely to make love to her out here in the icy cold, the ground still covered with snow, whereas once they were alone in the cottage...

  Beau moved so that he was standing directly in front of her, so close they almost touched. Almost. 'Jaz, do you believe me when I say I would never do anything to hurt you?' he prompted huskily, his gaze easily cap­turing and holding hers.

  She was having trouble breathing, her knees were knocking together; one of which might kill her, the other leave her floundering in the snow at his feet— wouldn't that hurt her?

  And if Beau made love to her—as the intensity of his gaze promised that he wanted to do!—and then left her, wouldn't that hurt her?

  She gave a dazed shake of her head. 'You wouldn't mean to, maybe, but you would do it anyway.'

  He continued to look at her for several long seconds, and then he gave a sigh of frustration, whether at her indomitableness, or because he knew she spoke the truth, Jaz wasn't completely sure.

  He gave a shake of his head. 'You're right, I wouldn't mean to,' he repeated huskily.

  She nodded, eyes deeply blue with emotion. 'But you would do it anyway,' she finished gruffly.

  He gave a pained frown, his gaze searching now on the paleness of her face. 'I would hope not,' he finally murmured. 'But, in all honesty, at this time of uncer­tainty in my life, the only thing I can be sure of is that I don't know!'

  Whereas she, in a blaze of sudden insight, knew ex­actly what she wanted! She wanted this man, wanted him completely, knew with blinding clarity that her questioning of her emotions earlier had all been a waste of time—because she was in love with him.

  The step Beau had just taken away from her she now took in his direction, knowing that the whole of this evening, since she had first opened the door three hours or so ago and felt that rush of pleasure at finding Beau there, had all been leading to this moment.

  'Perhaps,' her voice was huskily emotional. 'Perhaps you just need someone to help you to know...' She stepped fully into his arms, standing on tiptoe to press her lips against his.

  Beau stood unmoving for several awful seconds, and then his arms moved to pull her tightly against him, at the same time his lips opening to deepen the kiss she had so innocently begun.

  Jaz melted into Beau's hardness, their bodies mould­ing together from her breasts to her thighs, her arms up about his shoulders now, her fingers laced into the dark thickness of the hair at his nape, their mouths fused in pleasure-filling intimacy.

  Her breasts felt taut and tingling as she pressed close against him, a heat in her thighs that cried out to be assuaged, and all the time that kiss continued and con­tinued!

  She gasped as she felt Beau's hand on her breast beneath her coat, that gasp turning to a groan as his thumb-tip moved caressingly over the aroused tip, pleasure moving mercurially through her body, her legs once again feeling weak.

  She ached, how she ached, her breath coming in rag­ged gasps as the heat engulfed her—

  The headlights of a car, as it turned the corner past the cottage, shone blindingly in her face, acting as so­berly as a bucket of cold water would have done, Beau obviously feeling that same chill of reason as he raised his head to look down at her.

  She could read nothing from his gaze in those few brief seconds of sight before the car continued on its journey, taking those intrusive headlights with it. But just those few seconds were enough to show Jaz that whatever moment of emotional intimacy had just passed between the two of them, it was over now, Beau once more retreating behind that wall of aloofness he some­times chose to adopt.

  She straightened, forcing a teasing smile to her lips, at the same time hoping that Beau couldn't see the pain in her eyes. 'You see, I told you it wasn't a good idea!'

  'And you were right,' he acknowledged harshly, step­ping back from her abruptly before thrusting his hands into the pocket of his overcoat.

  She nodded. 'I'll see you tomorrow, then,' she told him brightly, determined to wait until after he had left before letting the heated tears fall down her cheeks— as they threatened to do at any second.

  'Probably,' he confirmed forcefully. 'Jaz—'

  'Just go, Beau,' she encouraged huskily, knowing she couldn't stand here and listen to any explanations of his about 'not wanting to get involved'—she could already see the regret in his face, didn't need to hear the words too!

  He gave a self-disgusted shake of his head. 'I don't want—'

  'Will you please just go?' she repeated tautly, know­ing she was balanced on a knife-edge of emotion—and threatening to tumble over the side at any moment! 'Just put'this down to...misplaced curiosity.'

  He frowned. 'Is that what this was?'

  'Definitely,' Jaz confirmed firmly. 'And don't worry, it won't happen again.'

  Beau let out his breath in a deep sigh. 'It isn't that I don't like you, Jaz—'

  'Well I may be inexperienced, but even I could tell that!' she came back scornfully. A few minutes ago, their bodies pressed together from breast to thigh, Beau's arousal had been even more tangible than her own!

  'Yes,' he acknowledged heavily. 'I'm just not sure— I may not stay on here, Jaz, and—' He gave an uncom­fortable shrug.

  He didn't have to tell her that if he went back to London, took up his career again, albeit perhaps in a different role from the one he had had for so long, there would be no place for Jaz in that life.

  'You don't owe me any explanations, Beau,' she as­sured him tightly. 'I'm the one that kissed you—re­member?'

  He grimaced. 'Only after I had made it obvious that's what I intended doing to you if you invited me inside!'

  Jaz shrugged. 'Then it's probably as well that we re­mained outside and discovered just how dangerous that would have been!'

  Beau gave a rueful shake of his head. 'You really are an amazing young lady, Jaz.'

  And perhaps that was part of the problem—she was young. She was also inexperienced. And obviously vul­nerable. Not a good combination for a sophisticated man like Beau to become involved in!

  'Thanks!' she accepted dryly. 'I'm also tired—so if you'll excuse me...?' she added pointedly.

  'Of course.' He stepped back abruptly, hand still thrust into his pockets. 'And I meant what I said earlier. About your not having to get in to work too early in the morning,' he explained at her questioning look.

  'Oh that.' She nodded understandingly, relieved it was something as innocuous as that. 'But if you're al­ready thinking of moving on...' her voice had deepened huskily just at the thought of Beau leaving Aberton 'perhaps you would rather I didn't continue with the work I've started? No point in paying out all that money if you aren't going to be staying,' she added reluctantly.

  She had already spent a substantial amount of that money on stocking up her freezer and buying a few other necessities—like new shoes and underwear! If she now had to return it...! Somehow she doubted Beau would be interested in frozen ready-to-eat meals, or the size four shoes, and as for the underwear—!

  'No, just leave things as they are for the moment,' Beau reassured her by answering. 'Now you really should get inside—you're starting to turn blue!'

  She felt as if she were too, the temperature having dropped dramatically this evening, freezing everything, including the snow that had fallen over the weekend.

  'Take care,' she said abruptly in parting as she turned to go into the house—relieved when Beau didn't remark that she sounded like his mother again.

  What a disastrous evening, she sighed as she closed the door behind her. The beautiful Camilla fawning over Beau al
l through dinner. Her teeth-gnashing jealousy. Kissing Beau in that forward way. Realizing that she was in love with him!

  In fact, the only positive thing that had happened this evening was that there wasn't another anonymous letter waiting for her on the doormat when she came in.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  There had been no letter last night. But that fact had been rectified by the next morning when Jaz came wearily down the stairs at seven-thirty to make herself a cup of coffee.

  She hadn't slept well, tossing and turning as she re­lived the embarrassment she had caused both Beau and herself the evening before by kissing him in the way that she had. Coming down the stairs to see yet another familiar white envelope laying on the mat in front of the door was not conducive to improving her mood.

  The single word written there didn't help. 'Bitch!' it read simply.

  Wonderful. Just what she wanted to hear. Just what she needed to pick herself up on this bright and frosty morning.

  Didn't this person ever sleep? Creeping around either in the dead of night, or maybe very early this morning, in order to deliver this letter in time for her to see as soon as she got up.

  Jaz gave a shiver just at the thought of this as-yet-faceless person being anywhere near her cottage. What sort of person did this? What sort of human being de­liberately taunted and hurt another one?

  Not anyone that she wanted to know, Jaz decided as she ripped the letter and envelope in half as she strode into the kitchen, dropping them into the bin in passing.

  It didn't take two guesses as to what she was being called a bitch for; this person was obviously aware she had been to Madelaine's the previous evening in Beau's company.

  Well, that probably covered half the village by now! After all, the milkman had already been round on his delivery, and Betty Booth, always an early riser, might have stopped to have a chat with him about her meal out the previous evening, which he would then pass on to any other customers who happened to be up to take their delivery.

  It was as simple as that, Jaz knew from experience. Not that it helped her in trying to discover who it was who was sending the letters, but it was somehow com­forting to hope that it might be someone she didn't par­ticularly like, either.

  There was even the driver of the car with the intrusive headlights to consider. Maybe it had been a coincidence that they had driven by at that particular time, but, then again, maybe it hadn't.

  Jaz frowned as she rebuked herself for not taking more notice of the make of car at least, its colour pretty indistinguishable in the darkness. But, then, she had been more preoccupied with Beau at the time than tak­ing notice of an intrusive car!

  And she was definitely becoming paranoid, she de­cided firmly. She didn't want to get to the stage where she took notice of passing cars, random or otherwise, to look with suspicion on anyone and everyone she spoke to, to guard her words on the off chance she could be talking to the 'wrong' person. Down that particular road lay—

  She almost dropped the mug of coffee she had just made as the telephone rang shrilly in the hallway, her heart still racing even as she recognized it for the in­nocuous ringing of an incoming telephone call. Maybe it was already too late to tell herself not to become paranoid!

  But, then, who could possibly be telephoning her at seven-forty in the morning, anyway? Maybe this anonymous tormentor had got tired of just sending let­ters and decided to telephone her to add weight to the accusations?

  Only one way to find out, Jaz, she told herself firmly as she gritted her teeth and picked up the receiver. 'Yes?' she prompted abruptly.

  'And a good morning to you too, Jaz Logan,' Beau's unmistakable voice came back teasingly. 'Had a bad night?' he added sympathetically.

  And a bad morning too so far, she acknowledged, tearful with relief just at the sound of Beau's voice. Which really wouldn't do at all.

  'Not really. What can I do for you?' she added briskly.

  There was a brief silence at the other end of the line, as if Beau were debating what he should say in answer to that. 'The ground is frozen,' he finally answered her crisply. 'The temperature isn't forecast to change much, so I don't really think there's any point in your coming over to work today.'

  Jaz felt her heart sink at this. Not that it wouldn't have been slightly embarrassing seeing Beau again after the way they had parted yet again last night, but, having received yet another of those unsettling letters, just be­ing somewhere near Beau would have felt somehow reassuring. Being told there was no point in her going over definitely took her mood back down to despondent.

  What was she going to do all day? Catch up on her bills, tend the plants with old Fred, everything that she used to before Beau Garrett came to the village, came the unequivocal answer.

  Yes, but she didn't want to do any of those things today. What she wanted—

  'There's no point in your coming over to work,' Beau repeated lightly, 'but I'll make you some lunch if you want to come over about twelve-thirty.'

  Jaz frowned, totally stunned. 'You'll make me lunch?' she repeated slowly.

  'Do you think that I can't?' Beau said dryly.

  'No, it isn't that. I just—you—'

  'I'm running hot and cold,' he provided with a sigh. 'Or, in this case, hot, cold, and then hot again.'

  'Something like that,' she agreed.

  'In my own defence, I would like to reassure you that this inconsistency of mood is not normal for me,' he came back self-derisively. 'I just—you have me con­fused, Jaz Logan.'

  Her eyes widened. 'I do?'

  'You do,' he sighed again. 'Again, not an emotion I'm used to. I have—had,' he corrected dryly, 'a well-ordered life. For obvious reasons I decided to make some changes in that life. But those changes did not include meeting someone like you.'

  Jaz couldn't even pretend to know what he was talk­ing about, the only thing really registering with her be­ing the fact that Beau was inviting her over for lunch today. 'I would love to come over for lunch,' she told him lightly, at the same time sticking her tongue out at the bin where that third damning letter had been so re­cently disposed of. Bah sucks, she mentally added for good measure. Which probably made her as childish as the person who had been sending those ridiculous letters!

  But she didn't care. She was not about to have some faceless person dictate to her where she should go and whom she should see.

  'Someone like me?' she repeated lightly.

  'Stop fishing, Jaz,' Beau told her mockingly. 'I've already said enough on that subject for one day,' he added disgustedly. 'Besides, isn't it enough that, against my better judgement, I'm inviting you over for lunch?'

  'How graciously put, Mr Garrett!' she taunted—if only to hide how inwardly thrilled she was at the thought of seeing Beau again later today. Even if it was 'against his better judgement'... Quite what he meant by that, she wasn't sure, but it sounded promising.

  'No one has ever accused me of being that—thank goodness!' he came back derisively. 'Now are you com­ing to lunch or aren't you?'

  She was. She most definitely was. Even if she didn't have a clue what his 'better judgement' was telling him he should do!

  'I am,' she confirmed lightly. 'Do you want me to bring anything with me?'

  'Just yourself,' Beau answered gruffly.

  Jaz felt that now familiar frisson of excitement down the length of her spine, a sense of some sort of inner warmth that she couldn't quite explain, but felt anyway.

  'In that case, I'll see you at twelve-thirty,' she said huskily before ringing off.

  She continued to stand in the hallway for some time after ending the call, lost in happy reverie at the thought of being with Beau again so soon, wondering what she could wear that wouldn't be over the top for a lunch, but at the same time was a step up from the scruffy denims and baggy jumpers Beau usually saw her in.

  Only to come crashing down again with a bump as she remembered his uncertainty last night about staying on in Aberton. What would she do, l
oving him as she did, if he should decide to cut his losses and go back to London?

  Well, that was a definite dampener, Jaz, she mentally rebuked herself; a real downer.

  Although it didn't change the fact that the possibility may have to be faced. And sooner rather than later if Beau's disenchantment with village life was anything to go by.

  Oh, well, she sighed, her feet firmly back on the ground as she trudged her way back up the stairs; she would have to cross that particular bridge when she came to it.

  'I thought we would eat in the kitchen, if that's all right with you?' Beau told her as he preceded her down the hallway after opening the front door to her ring. 'As well as being the warmest room in the house, it's still also the only one that's really habitable,' he added rue­fully.

  She was only too happy to stay in the kitchen, had forgotten, until she actually parked the van outside and contemplated coming inside, just how depressing she found the idea of being inside this house, and the mem­ories it evoked; the kitchen was the one room that looked nothing at all as it used to.

  Until she got here she hadn't really given where she was going any actual thought, had just been pleased to be seeing Beau. But as she climbed out of the van she had felt that old sense of foreboding that had possessed her whenever she'd visited her grandparents here.

  'What is it?' Beau prompted sharply.

  Jaz forced a smile to her lips, shaking her head. 'Nothing,' she dismissed. 'And the kitchen is fine.'

  Beau continued to look at her with narrowed eyes. 'This wasn't a happy house, was it,' he sighed.

  Her eyes widened. 'What do you mean?'

  He shrugged. 'The swing in the garden. The chil­dren's wallpaper in one of the bedrooms. It's all an illusion, isn't it,' he said grimly. 'It wasn't a happy house, was it,' he repeated hardly.

  Jaz swallowed hard, her hands pushed into the back pockets of the new pair of denims she was wearing. 'No,' she confirmed huskily. 'I—you have to under­stand. My grandparents did the best they could, but they—' She broke off, not sure what else to say.