Hunter's Moon & Bedded for Revenge Read online

  Cassandra would say, in the circumstances, he could definitely say that!

  ‘Whatever,’ Peter dismissed abruptly, ‘we married. She resented Charles, the time I spent with him, the love I had for him, claimed I cared more for him that I did for her. She was right, of course,’ he frowned. ‘Our marriage was a disaster. But by the time we realised that Claire was already pregnant.’

  ‘Jonas…’ Cassandra realised achingly. God, poor Jonas; his parents’ marriage was over even before he was born! How long had it taken him to realise that? Or had he always known?

  ‘Yes,’ Peter acknowledged heavily as he saw the emotions chasing across her face. ‘An innocent child, born into a battlefield. And by the time Jonas was born it had become at least that. Claire’s resentment towards Charles grew with the birth of her own child, so much so that she tried to push Charles out completely, to persuade me to make Jonas my sole heir. When I refused to do that she turned Jonas against both Charles and me, told him he wasn’t wanted—God knows what she didn’t tell him!’ he said harshly. ‘She alienated Jonas from us completely, while at the same time living her own separate life from us, having her own friends, mostly male. The marriage was hell. Charles knew what was going on, of course, and he got off to university as soon as he could, hated having to live in a battlefield, so he didn’t witness all the fights between Claire and me, both verbal and physical; Claire felt no compunction at all in hitting out at me when things didn’t go the way she wanted them to!’

  Cassandra couldn’t imagine this nobly proud man having to deal with emotions as basic as that, knew how he must have hated it—and also the reason he had stood it for as long as he obviously had. There could have been only one reason: Jonas. His younger son. A son deliberately brought up to distrust him and resent his older brother…!

  Peter shook his head with remembered bitterness. ‘By the time Jonas was eight I knew I couldn’t live like that any more, felt too battered emotionally after one particularly vitriolic outburst, over Claire’s latest lover, as I recall, to go on with it any more,’ he added disgustedly. ‘But I couldn’t let Jonas go and live with his mother if there was to be a divorce; I knew she would poison his life completely if I allowed that. And so there was a nasty custody case.’ His mouth thinned with the distaste of having to publicly reveal the intimate details of his second marriage. ‘At the worst point of the hearing, when Claire could see she was probably going to lose, she told the court I wasn’t Jonas’s father anyway, so had no right to him…!’ He shook his head with a pained wince.

  Cassandra stared at him with wide eyes; Jonas wasn’t his son…?

  ‘It was a lie, of course,’ Peter instantly dismissed the very idea of that being true. ‘The last viperous thrust of a rattlesnake! For all her adulterous ways once our relationship was over, I had never at any time doubted that Jonas was my son.’ He looked up and saw how pale Cassandra had become, smiling at her without any real humour. ‘Remind me to show you a photograph of Jonas’s paternal grandfather some time,’ he drawled. ‘Jonas is him all over again; he was an old curmudgeon too!’

  This more than accurate description of Jonas released some of the tension, and Cassandra found herself returning Peter’s smile with humour now. ‘I would love to see some old photographs of your family. And Jonas,’ she added huskily.

  Peter leant forward to squeeze her hand understandingly. ‘And so you shall. Over a cup of tea. Once we’ve disposed of all of the past,’ he added grimly, sitting back in his chair once again.

  She moistened dry lips. ‘What happened to make Jonas go to America twelve years ago? And what is the rift between Charles and Jonas?’ She looked at him enquiringly.

  ‘As you’ve probably already guessed,’ Peter sighed wearily, ‘the two are connected. The rivalry that Jonas felt towards Charles, which Claire had instilled in him from birth, continued even after Claire had left the house. Claire virtually disappeared from his life for years after the divorce, and the easiest way for Jonas to deal with that was to blame Charles and me. And maybe I was to blame.’ He shook his head. ‘I certainly didn’t encourage the relationship, and Claire wasn’t one for putting herself out, least of all for a child who couldn’t do anything for her in return. I’m sorry,’ he winced. ‘I must be painting a very bitter picture. But—’

  ‘It’s all right, Peter,’ Cassandra hastened to reassure him, having so much more insight now into what had made Jonas the man he was—and needing to know the rest!

  ‘He’s useful to her again now, of course,’ Peter rasped, eyes narrowed angrily. ‘Which is why the relationship exists, on some sort of level.’

  Jonas had made no effort that Cassandra knew of to see his mother over the Christmas holiday, or to introduce the two women. But she did know he had invited his mother to the wedding in four days’ time, as he had said he would…

  Peter shook his head. ‘But all through those difficult years with Jonas, teenage and adolescent, Claire didn’t want to know, except for the odd outing. It was because of that, I’m sure, that the relationship between Charles and Jonas improved slightly. Charles went into business with your father, and Jonas went on to university—’ He broke off as Cassandra gasped, looking at her enquiringly.

  ‘It had never occurred to me before that Jonas was still in England when Daddy and Charles formed Hunter and Kyle,’ she explained almost dazedly. She couldn’t think why she hadn’t—her father and Charles had been in partnership for fifteen years before they both died.

  It seemed strange to think she could have met Jonas all those years ago, if things hadn’t been so strained between him and Charles… Admittedly, she would only have been thirteen years old when Jonas went off to America, but just to have seen him once before whatever rift had driven him to leave in the first place…! Perhaps, in retrospect, he wouldn’t have been all that different from the way he was now, but it still seemed odd to think she could have met him all those years ago…

  ‘I should have realised.’ She shook her head self-derisively.

  Peter smiled. ‘Jonas was wild in those days,’ he recalled, as if he could guess her thoughts of a few minutes ago. ‘He was into everything. Fast cars. Drink. Women.’ His face became shadowed again. ‘It’s ironic really that it was a woman who once again split the family apart. Lucy might have been made in Claire’s image,’ he said grimly. ‘A young, slightly less knowing Claire. Maybe that was what attracted Jonas to her. God knows what Charles saw in her!’ He shook his head disgustedly.

  Cassandra had gone very still, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. A woman. Charles and Jonas had fallen out over a woman? A girl really. It had never occurred to her that might be the reason… Although she remembered Jonas’s bitterness now about the one time he had been in love, and also Peter’s comments to Jonas on Christmas Day concerning his reasons for marrying her.

  ‘Charles took Lucy away from Jonas,’ she realised dully. Here lay Jonas’s real reason for wanting to marry her. It had nothing to do with her father or those shares, and everything to do with revenge for what Charles had done to Jonas all those years ago. She felt ill…

  ‘Not quite,’ Peter answered drily, not seeming to have noticed how pale Cassandra had become, her eyes haunted, the dark shadows beneath them appearing even darker, her cheeks hollow. ‘Lucy just decided Charles, as the older, already established brother, was a much surer bet than the fiery but as yet unproved Jonas. She and Jonas had been dating for several months, but within a week of being introduced to Charles Lucy was chasing after him unashamedly.’

  But Charles hadn’t had to be caught! And he had never mentioned this girl Lucy to her. Oh, Cassandra hadn’t expected him to confess to every relationship from his past; after all, he was a lot older than her, and of course there had been other women. But this girl Lucy had been Jonas’s girlfriend first, and was the cause of the bad feeling between the two brothers; Charles should have told Cassandra about her.

  Had Charles not told her about Lucy because he had kno
wn how disappointed she would have been in his behaviour? She had known that same disappointment in him so many times during their marriage that it was a wonder she could still be surprised—or hurt—by anything he had done. But she was…

  ‘What happened—happened, Cassandra.’ Peter was looking at her regretfully as he saw the pained disillusionment in the paleness of her face.

  What had ‘happened’ had almost destroyed Jonas! She could see it all now. In Lucy, Jonas had at last believed he had found someone of his own to love, someone who would love him in return, for himself. He had chosen badly, and Lucy had betrayed him with his own brother, the worst possible thing that could have happened.

  Good God, no wonder Jonas was so successful in business; he had had a burning fury driving him on all these years, a need to prove to his father, Charles, and Lucy that he didn’t need any of them. That he didn’t need anyone…

  Her expression was bleak now as she looked across at Peter. ‘And Lucy? What happened to her?’

  He shrugged. ‘Charles hadn’t been as blind to what she was like as I had initially thought; apparently, he made it clear to her that he wasn’t offering the marriage that Jonas had been thinking of. And so she tried to go back to Jonas.’ Peter shook his head. ‘He wasn’t interested in her any more, of course—’

  ‘Can you blame him for feeling that way?’ Cassandra choked, only able to imagine the humiliation Jonas must have gone through when the woman he loved seemed to prefer his older brother. It was also the reason Jonas was so determined now to marry Charles’s widow; it must seem like ironic justice in his eyes. And Jonas got so much more than revenge on Charles for what he had done by marrying her, of course…

  ‘No,’ Peter grimaced. ‘Of course I can’t blame him for that. But Charles actually did him a favour—’

  ‘Jonas didn’t see it that way!’ she snapped knowingly. She knew Jonas that well, at least!

  Peter shook his head. ‘There was the most unholy row, with the result that Jonas finally stormed out, telling us he didn’t want anything from us in future, that he—he had never really belonged to this family anyway, that he would make a life for himself elsewhere, where no one knew this damned family!’ He sighed. ‘And from the look of him he has succeeded in doing just that.’

  Cassandra swallowed hard. ‘He appears to have done, yes,’ she agreed guardedly, still trying to take in all that she had been told today, and what she could do to change things between herself and Jonas. There had to be something.

  ‘Professionally successful,’ his father nodded understandingly. ‘On a personal level he’s still very bitter. I have no idea what sort of life he’s led these past twelve years or so, Cassandra.’ He looked at her frowningly. ‘I knew where he had gone, of course, tried to contact him several times in the beginning, but it was all rejected. I hoped that, given time and maturity, he would perhaps see things differently, grow to understand—When he came back earlier this year it was the first time I had seen him for twelve years.’ His thoughts were inward now, again remembering. ‘He’s grown into a fine figure of a man, tall and strong, tough but usually fair in business from what I’ve heard of his dealings over the years.’

  It was ironic that Charles had been the one to bring Jonas back to England, by leaving him those shares in Hunter and Kyle. And by doing so he had put her completely at Jonas’s mercy…!

  ‘Tough but usually fair in business’ was the reputation Peter had heard of his younger son; but Jonas was being anything but fair in his dealings with her! She knew what she had to do now, and both dreaded and anticipated the outcome.

  ‘Those photographs, Peter,’ she prompted briskly, seeing how lost in the sad memories the old man had now become, and knowing that brooding about all of this again now wasn’t going to help him. Or Jonas. ‘I’d like to see them now if you know where they are.’

  Peter had albums of photographs, hundreds of them of ancestors, and his own children. Cassandra supposed, thinking back to those early days with Charles, that she must have seen some of these photographs before; Peter had taken great delight, she remembered, at the beginning of her engagement to Charles, in showing her youthfully embarrassing photographs of him, from lying naked on a rug as a baby to being slightly overweight in his early teens. She had taken little notice at the time of the other dark-eyed little boy also in some of those photographs, having little interest at the time in the younger brother whom she hadn’t met and was never likely to meet either.

  This second child was easily recognisable as Jonas, although his hair had been longer and curly then, not kept in that severely short style he now favoured. The dark eyes that looked up out of the photographs had always seemed older than their years, rarely reflecting the humour of his laughing mouth, his expression more often than not broodingly grave, even from early childhood. Cassandra’s heart went out to the bewildered little boy he had become after the break-up of his parents’ marriage.

  There were photographs of Claire Hunter too, kept, Cassandra felt sure, only for the benefit of the child she had done her best to poison against his father and older brother; Peter obviously didn’t need any photographic reminders of his second wife! Cassandra had no idea what the other woman looked like nowadays, but then she had been beautiful, tall and dark, elegantly slender, every feature perfect, from her delicately arched black brows, aqua-blue eyes, tiny nose, to her poutingly lovely mouth.

  ‘A word of warning—beware of Claire when you meet her.’ Peter was also looking at the photograph of the woman he had made his second wife, Jonas’s mother. ‘Those delicate little teeth have a vicious bite,’ he grated harshly.

  ‘It may not come to that,’ Cassandra dismissed dully, knowing already that she wasn’t going to like Claire Hunter, that she couldn’t feel comfortable with a woman who could do to her child what Claire had so selfishly done to Jonas.

  Peter looked across at Cassandra frowningly. ‘But I thought Jonas was adamant about inviting her to the wedding…?’ He looked puzzled.

  ‘He is,’ Cassandra dismissed vaguely, not wanting to get into an in-depth conversation now about why there was a possibility that she and Claire would never meet. ‘Peter, could I borrow a couple of these photographs to take away with me?’ she requested briskly.

  ‘Yes, of course. But—’

  ‘I’ll make sure you get them back,’ she promised, taking the photographs she wanted, knowing exactly which ones they were.

  Peter still watched her with puzzled eyes. ‘Cassandra, what do you intend doing with them?’ His gaze followed her as she stood up.

  She reached out to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. ‘I’m not sure yet,’ she admitted truthfully. ‘What I do know is there’s a hurt little boy in Jonas who needs to come out. The pain has to be faced, accepted, and then lived with, not left to fester and grow.’

  ‘And you think those photographs might help?’ Peter didn’t look convinced.

  ‘I don’t honestly know,’ she admitted wearily. ‘All I do know is that someone has to try.’

  His eyes widened admiringly. ‘You do love Jonas.’

  ‘Very much,’ she nodded. ‘Too much to let this continue.’ She didn’t enlarge on what ‘this’ was. ‘Take care, Peter. I’ll be in touch.’

  ‘I hope so,’ he nodded, a deep sadness in his eyes. ‘I truly hope so.’

  She hoped so too. But despite what she had said to Peter, she wasn’t in the least confident about what she intended doing…

  She knew her next meeting with Jonas wasn’t going to be a particularly friendly one, when she arrived at her mother’s house to pick up Bethany and discovered Jonas had already been there and had driven her daughter home!

  * * *

  ‘Where the hell have you been all afternoon?’

  Cassandra had delayed going into the sitting-room, where she knew Jonas waited, only long enough to go down to the kitchen where Bethany was being given her tea by Jean, to assure herself that Bethany had enjoyed herself at her grandmother’s
this afternoon and that she was now being fed; as her young daughter was now eating her favourite tea of chips and fish-fingers Cassandra knew her presence was superfluous while she ate it!

  But Cassandra was in no hurry to go upstairs to the sitting-room either, could feel Jonas’s presence there like a powerful force to be reckoned with.

  Nevertheless, she knew the longer she delayed, the more angry he was likely to become, and as he and Bethany had already been back at the house half an hour he was probably angry enough!

  He stood over by the large bay window when she entered the room, hands thrust into the pockets of his suit trousers, broodingly unapproachable in the darkly formal clothing and snowy white shirt, a blue silk tie knotted severely at his throat.

  He had come to the house here first this evening, Jean had informed her, and from the look of him that had been straight after his business meeting had finished. He had only gone on to her mother’s after Jean had told him they had gone there for the afternoon; Cassandra had told Jean that was where she was going, hadn’t wanted the other woman to have to lie for her if Jonas should telephone in her absence. It was Joy, apparently, who had felt no compunction about telling Jonas that Cassandra had only stayed long enough to drop Bethany off at the house, before going off on some mysterious business of her own. Joy could get awards for stirring up trouble—and enjoying doing it!

  Not that Cassandra had intended keeping her visit to Peter as a secret from Jonas; in the circumstances she could hardly do that. But she had been going to tell him in her own time, in her own way. Now she wasn’t going to be given the chance to do that!

  ‘Jonas,’ she greeted him lightly, softly closing the door behind her. ‘Thank you for collecting Bethany from my mother’s for me—’

  ‘Don’t act the polite innocent with me, Cassandra,’ he cut in harshly, striding purposefully across the room to glare down at her. ‘I asked you where you had been all afternoon. If it was with that young puppy Simeon—’