The Tempestuous Flame Read online

  It was no good, she would never get to sleep. She sat up suddenly. There was that noise again, and it sounded like a car door slamming. What was a car doing here? This was the only cottage in the area, which could only mean that whoever was in that car was coming here. Could it be burglars? But there was nothing here to steal. But they didn’t know that!

  She crept quietly out of bed, peeping out of the curtains to the driveway below. Sure enough, parked there was a strange car, its sleek lines clearly visible in the moonlight. Her attention was caught and held by the shadowy figure walking around the car and delving into the boot. She ducked back behind the curtains as the sleek head looked up at the cottage. Had he seen her? She chanced another quick look between the curtains. The intruder seemed intent on the contents of the boot again. Well, it was no good cowering here, the telephone was downstairs, she would have to try and call for help.

  The stairs creaked noisily as she crept down their winding length. Funny, she had never noticed they did that before. She only hoped the man outside hadn’t heard it too.

  She was half way across the hallway to the telephone when the door was flung open and the light switched on. Caroline blinked dazedly at this sudden light, wrapping her almost transparent nightdress around her slender body. The man standing silhouetted in the doorway didn’t look at all pleased to see her either; his tanned arrogant face was creased in disapproving lines.

  Caroline felt herself bridling with anger even in the face of danger. Who was this man to look down his haughty nose at her as if she were the intruder? She pulled herself up to her full height, looking coldly at the stranger.

  The man moved forward into the light, his black hair shining like a raven’s wing, and the green eyes set like twin emeralds in his mahogany tanned face appraised her from head to toe. He was a tall man, well over six foot, and although he had a lean frame Caroline could see it was pure ripcord muscle. The trousers he wore clung to the length of his thighs, and the thick creamy sweater disguised none of the power beneath.

  ‘Well?’ he queried softly. ‘The maid, I presume?’

  Caroline glared angrily at his sardonic face, resenting his scrutiny. ‘Certainly not!’ she said coldly. ‘Who are you?’ He didn’t look like a burglar, that was for sure.

  He put down the case he had been carrying, casually taking out a gold cigarette case and lighting the cigarette he had extracted with a matching gold lighter. ‘Who I am isn’t really important. It’s who you are that matters, although from the way you’re acting I would say you’re one of the snooty daughter’s friends. Am I right?’

  ‘Snooty daughter?’ she repeated sharply. ‘What snooty daughter?’

  The man came even further into the room, closing the door and moving with a cat-like grace to stand before the now dying fire in the lounge. ‘Matt’s snooty daughter. Cynthia, Catherine, whatever her name is.’

  ‘Oh,’ Caroline said dully. Snooty? Was she really? ‘Yes, I suppose you could call me a friend of hers. But who are you?’

  He continued to smoke his cigarette, his eyes narrowed. ‘Much as I like the sight of your near-naked body I think you should go put some more clothes on if we’re to continue this conversation. It may not bother you to be seen like that, but I don’t usually carry out conversations with half-naked females.’

  ‘Really?’ Caroline said tartly, resenting his criticism of her. ‘You surprise me.’

  Those green eyes mocked her. ‘Only females of my own choice,’ he amended. ‘And you certainly aren’t that.’

  She gave him a flinty look before turning on her heel and marching furiously out of the room. What an insulting man! And who was he, he hadn’t told her that yet. Obviously an acquaintance of her father’s, but who, that was the question? And how dared he call her snooty when he didn’t even know her right name! Cynthia or Catherine! What a cheek! Well, she certainly wasn’t going to tell him who she was, not after that description of her.

  When she came downstairs again five minutes later, dressed in levi’s and a thick green sweater, it was to find a steaming mug of coffee waiting for her.

  ‘Help yourself to sugar,’ he invited, drinking his own coffee with obvious pleasure. He put down the half-empty mug. ‘Now, would you mind telling me what you’re doing here?’

  ‘Would I?’ she demanded. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I happen to have been given permission to come here,’ he informed her haughtily. ‘And you?’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious? My—my friend gave me permission to use this cottage too. It has a studio, you see.’

  ‘A studio? What sort of studio?’

  ‘The type you paint in,’ she told him sarcastically.

  ‘Oh, I see.’ The contempt couldn’t be missed in his voice and her resentment towards him grew.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked angrily.

  He showed his dislike of her tone by the faint lift of his arrogant eyebrows. ‘My name is André—André Gregory.’

  ‘André? You don’t look French. It is French, isn’t it?’

  ‘Mmm. And I’m half French, on my mother’s side. And your name?’

  ‘Caroline…’ she hesitated. ‘Caroline Rawlings.’ Why had she lied? It would serve him right if he felt uncomfortable when she told him her name, although she had the feeling it wouldn’t bother him one way or the other. He seemed equally unconcerned that they had both come to stay here on the same night. He was the type of man that would be in control whatever the situation. She looked up to find him also looking at her, his face becoming a shuttered mask under her questioning gaze.

  ‘So, Miss Rawlings,’ he drawled her name, ‘it appears that we both have the intention of staying here for the night. I could of course be a gentleman and say that I’ll leave, but as good manners have never been one of my finer attributes, I have no intention of doing any such thing. Of course I only have your word that you are a friend of Matt’s daughter—you could be an intruder for all I know.’

  ‘But so could you,’ she pointed out reasonably.

  ‘Hardly likely. I happen to know the name of the owner.’

  She thought for a moment. ‘But if I were an intruder I wouldn’t know if that were his name anyway. I would have to take your word for that.’

  Reluctantly he smiled, showing firm even white teeth between his well-shaped lips. ‘I see your point. Okay, we’ll accept that we both have permission to stay here. The trouble is what are we going to do about it?’

  ‘I’m not going to do anything. I was here first, so I think you should be the one to leave.’

  ‘Why should either of us leave?’ André Gregory asked calmly. ‘There are two bedrooms, aren’t there? Surely in this permissive day and age you aren’t afraid to share a cottage with a member of the opposite sex?’

  His tone could only be described as taunting, and Caroline blushed. ‘I don’t happen to belong to the permissive society.’ And she didn’t, hard as the pressure from some of her friends had been. Most of the men in her set thought she was frigid, although that didn’t stop them trying to get her to sleep with them. Daddy’s money again, she thought dryly. She didn’t seem to realise that she was beautiful enough for any man to find attractive, her elusiveness making her even more so.

  ‘You surprise me. Especially as you’re a friend of little Miss Rich Rayner.’

  ‘I beg your pardon!’ She glared at him crossly.

  ‘You heard me. That little girl is no better than she ought to be from what I’ve heard, and if you mix with the same crowd she does and are as innocent as you say you are I’ll be very much surprised.’

  She stood up, her bearing almost regal in her anger. ‘It may surprise you to know this too, Mr Gregory, but whether you believe what I’ve told you isn’t of paramount importance to me. As long as I have my self-respect that’s all that matters to me.’

  She saw grudging respect enter those deep green eyes before it was quickly veiled and replaced with a taunting smile. ‘All right. So which bedroom do I use?’r />
  ‘If you intend staying you’ll have to use the one to the right at the top of the stairs—I’m in the one to the left, so you can’t use that one.’

  He grinned. ‘I could—but I won’t. So,’ he stood up, ‘I’ll use the one to the right. I trust that meets with your approval?’

  ‘Would it matter if it didn’t?’ she said resentfully.

  ‘No, your approval isn’t important to me,’ he ran a tired hand through his thick vibrant hair. ‘I hope your story stands up, young lady, because if it doesn’t you’ll be out of here so fast your feet won’t touch the ground.’

  Caroline’s eyes sparkled angrily. ‘And just how do you propose to ascertain whether I’m lying or not?’

  André Gregory smiled mockingly. ‘Have you never heard of the telephone? I presume you have no objection to my using it?’

  She shrugged her shoulders, thinking how ridiculous all this was anyway. Why didn’t she just tell him who she was and ask him to leave, instead of continuing this pointless deception? If he hadn’t been so condescending about her she would have never started this in the first place. ‘Who am I to object?’ she answered his question.

  ‘Quite,’ he said dryly, picking up the case he had deposited on the floor on entering the cottage. ‘Now I’ll wish you a goodnight—or should I say good morning.’

  Caroline looked amazed at his calmness. ‘You surely aren’t going to go on with this farce? Look, it isn’t that late,’ she said desperately. ‘You could stay at a hotel, there’s a small one in the village.’

  ‘Then why don’t you use it? Because I’m certainly not going to. For heaven’s sake, girl,’ he snapped suddenly, regarding her through half-closed eyes, ‘I’m not proposing to share your bed, only the accommodation. Or is that what’s upset you? The fact that I haven’t made a move to get you into bed with me?’

  She flushed with heated anger. ‘Some women might find your outrageous behaviour fascinating, Mr Gregory, but I simply find it disgusting!’ She flicked her head back haughtily, meeting head on the angry sparkle in the eyes of this man she had only known for an hour. An hour too long in her opinion! ‘And as you insist on staying here you’ll need some bed linen. I presume you have no idea where it is?’

  André Gregory regarded her through narrowed eyes, lingering insolently on the soft curves of her young body as if assessing what lay beneath her warm clothing. She resisted an impulse to put up a shielding hand, and saw the cynical twist of his mouth deepen as though he had guessed her thoughts. ‘You’re right, I don’t. But I’m sure if you leave me long enough I’ll find it. After all, there can’t be many places to keep bed linen in a place this size.’

  ‘It happens to be in the bedroom I’m using,’ she snapped. ‘And I’m certainly not having you barging in there when you finally realise that’s where it is.’

  ‘Why not?’ he returned softly. ‘It might be fun.’

  Caroline’s mouth tightened. ‘Not for me it wouldn’t.’ She stood up. ‘Now if you would like to come upstairs, I’ll show you your room, and then perhaps I can get some sleep.’

  ‘I wouldn’t count on it. I plan to have a shower before going to bed, I’m sticky from driving so long,’ he explained.

  ‘Are you usually this inconsiderate, or am I the exception?’ she demanded tartly. ‘You have already frightened me half to death by turning up here in the middle of the night, accused me of being an intruder, and now you propose to keep me awake even longer by having a shower. You really are the limit!’ she finished with disgust.

  ‘Miss Rawlings—if that really is your name,’ he saw her blush and raised a mocking eyebrow, ‘which I very much doubt,’ he added dryly. ‘You appeared to be anything but frightened when I arrived, furious is more the word I would choose. And I didn’t accuse you of being an intruder, I merely said you could be, there is a slight difference,’ he shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘As for the shower, I have every intention of taking that with or without your approval. If it disturbs you, I’m sorry. But I’m going to take one, of that you can be assured.’

  Caroline didn’t bother to answer him, recognising an obstinacy such as her own. And she knew she wouldn’t have given in either. She opened the door that led out to the stairs, conscious of his firm even tread behind her. The bedroom she showed him into was the one her father usually occupied on the rare occasions he came with her. It was blue and white in decor, the fitted carpet blue, with blue and white and small touches of black in the wallpaper.

  André Gregory looked around him appreciatively, placing his case on the ottoman at the foot of the double bed that dominated the room. ‘Very nice. Your friend must have good taste in furnishings, if of course she chose the decor.’

  ‘Of course she did,’ snapped Caroline, standing nervously just inside the doorway. ‘She’s very artistic’

  ‘Hence the studio?’

  ‘Hence the studio,’ she agreed. ‘The bathroom is the room next to yours. I realise you’re probably accustomed to having your own bathroom but as there only happens to be the one I’m afraid we’ll have to share.’

  ‘And if I choose to walk around naked?’ he taunted.

  ‘That’s up to you, of course,’ she said coldly. ‘But I would prefer you to curb these instincts if possible. I’m afraid I’m not used to seeing strange men walking about without their clothing.’

  ‘Only men you know, hmm?’

  ‘Don’t be crude! You’re very insulting, Mr Gregory. If you would prefer it I’ll put the statement another way, I’m not used to seeing any man without his clothing. Does that satisfy you?’

  He grinned. ‘The name is André, and as I have every intention of calling you Caroline I would suggest you use it. As for satisfying me, only the best does that, I’m afraid.’

  Caroline hadn’t missed the intimate undertones beneath his words, and she realised how precarious her position was as she stood just inside his bedroom. ‘I’ll—um—I’ll just get the bed linen.’

  ‘You do that,’ he laughed, shedding his jacket and beginning to peel off his thick sweater.

  She fled before he took off anything else, like his trousers. She sorted through the linen cupboard, collecting sheets and blankets, but taking her time over it. She had no desire to find him in the state he had earlier described, although she felt certain he wouldn’t feel in the least embarrassed if she did.

  She tapped lightly on his bedroom door but receiving no answer decided he must already be in the bathroom. His clothes were scattered on the bare mattress, and picking them up she folded them neatly and placed them on the bedroom chair. It didn’t take her long to make up the bed and she was just putting the finishing touches to the bedspread when he came back into the room.

  She turned around quickly as she heard the door open, her face apprehensive. But she needn’t have worried, he was clothed quite adequately in a thick white towelling robe, his dark hair gleaming damply. Caroline stood up from her task, rubbing her hands nervously over her slim hips, and unconsciously drawing attention to herself. ‘I’ve—er—I’ve made up your bed,’ she told him needlessly.

  The green eyes mocked her. ‘I can see that. And as you can see, as a concession to your supposed modesty, I’m wearing this robe,’ he threw the damp towel on to the chair on top of his clothes. ‘Was there something else?’

  ‘No—no, of course not.’ She snatched the towel off the clothing. ‘You’ll ruin these doing that. I’ll put the towel on the radiator in the bathroom to dry.’

  ‘Thank you,’ his voice taunted.

  ‘Right. Well, I’ll—I’ll go to bed now. Goodnight,’ and she hurriedly made her escape, conscious of his mocking laughter behind her.

  She found it even more difficult to settle down to sleep with the knowledge that André Gregory was in the room opposite her own. She could hear him moving about and wondered what he could possibly be doing now. Strangely enough, although she resented his presence, she also felt comforted to know he was there. She must telephone her father
in the morning and ask about this friend of his, and perhaps warn him to back up her story when André Gregory called him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  CAROLINE awoke to thin watery daylight filtering through her lemon curtains. She blinked rapidly. Whatever time was it? She glanced quickly at her wrist-watch, jumping hurriedly out of bed as she saw it was already eight-thirty. If she didn’t call her father within the next fifteen minutes he would have left for the office. She grabbed her housecoat off the back of the door and rushed out to the bathroom, only to find the door firmly locked against her.

  She rattled the door handle frustratedly. ‘Are you in there, Mr Gregory?’ she demanded crossly.

  ‘I would have thought that was obvious, Miss Rawlings. So if you wouldn’t mind going back to your room until I’ve finished shaving?’ his deep voice sounded from the other side of the door.

  ‘I most certainly do mind! You’ve had more than your fair share of time in the bathroom, and I’m going to wait right here until you decide to vacate it,’ she told him stubbornly.

  ‘Okay, please yourself. But I think I should warn you that I didn’t bother with the robe today. I didn’t think it was necessary as you appeared to be fast asleep.’

  Caroline blushed hotly, feeling herself forced to return to her room. He knew very well that she wouldn’t wait here until he came out of the bathroom, naked. ‘All right,’ she admitted defeat. ‘I’ll just go downstairs and put the kettle on,’ and telephone Daddy, she could have added, but didn’t.

  ‘Quite domesticated, aren’t you,’ he taunted.

  She didn’t deign to answer him, running quickly down the stairs, her housecoat flapping aside as she ran. Thank heaven she would have this chance to speak to her father privately before that man came downstairs. The telephone rang five or six times and Caroline wondered if anyone was going to answer when suddenly the telephone was picked up and her home number related to her gruffly.

  She held the telephone close against her ear. ‘Daddy?’ she whispered questioningly.