Gracious Lady Read online

  But he was completely wrong about what she wanted to do with her life. She knew exactly what she wanted to do as a career; it was just taking her longer than most to be in a position to do it. But she would get there in the end, even if she had to do another two dozen zany jobs to achieve it.

  'Your expenses for coming down here will, of course, be reimbursed to you.' He stood up now in what was obviously an end to the conversation, moving to sit behind the desk again before biting into the sandwich her aunt had placed there for him. 'Mmm, they're good,' he said appreciatively after that first bite. 'Try one,' he invited before continuing to eat.

  Food would probably choke her at the moment, her disappointment over the lack of a job was so acute. 'No, thanks.' She stood up. 'I—I think I'll go to bed now. You don't mind if I wait until morning to leave, do you?' She frowned as that thought occurred to her.

  Irritation turned his eyes icy-looking again. 'Don't be so damned silly,' he rasped angrily. 'If your aunt wants you to stay on with her for a few days, I'm not going to object.'

  Oh, God... Aunt Millie still had to be faced yet! And no matter what Sophie said to the contrary, her aunt was sure to assume it must have been something Sophie had said or done that had influenced Maximilian Grant's de­cision not to employ her after all, and that her unsuitability reflected on her because she had been the one to suggest Sophie in the first place! Her aunt wasn't com­pletely responsible for suggesting Sophie anyway;

  Sophie's own mother had put the idea to her sister when she had casually mentioned the fact that the family would be here for Jennifer's half-term. And actually, Sophie wasn't totally convinced, despite the fact that this man said otherwise, that her accidental meeting with Maximilian Grant beside the road earlier this evening hadn't influenced his decision concerning her...

  'I think it's best if I leave tomorrow,' she assured him; there was no point in suffering Aunt Millie's re­proachful looks for longer than was necessary.

  'As you wish,' he shrugged dismissively, studying some papers that lay on his desktop.

  Sophie wondered if he had any idea of the financial blow he had dealt her—even with the reimbursement of her expenses. Probably not. The amount of money she would have earned during the week would have been a mere drop in a very big ocean to this man, but to her... Forget it, Sophie, she instructed herself firmly. Move on. Don't look back. Never look back. It was the only way.

  Maximilian Grant didn't even seem to notice her leave the room, so engrossed was he in reading those papers and eating his sandwich at the same time. In fact, he had probably already dismissed Sophie Gordon from his mind.

  But her aunt Millie hadn't; she was waiting up for her in the kitchen, as Sophie had known she would be!

  But to her everlasting relief, when Sophie told her aunt that Jennifer was to go to her aunt's rather than coming home as originally planned, Aunt Millie was so annoyed at the inconsideration shown to her that there was no thought of reproach.

  'Well, really!' She stood up to clear the coffee things away. 'But then, I suppose the aunt had a lot to do with that,' she sniffed disapprovingly. 'A spoilt little madam, if ever I saw one. It won't do young Jennifer any good to spend time with that Celia.' She shook her head with foreboding.

  Sophie wasn't sure whether it was Jennifer or the aunt who was the spoilt little madam; and she was too re­lieved at being let off so lightly to want to pursue the subject, excusing herself to go to bed, explaining that she had to travel back to town tomorrow.

  'Of course you have.' Her aunt looked guilty now at having delayed her even further. 'And I really am sorry you went to all this trouble just to be disappointed.'

  She shrugged. 'Mr Grant said he would pay my expenses—'

  'That's the least he could do in the circumstances.' Her aunt still looked disgusted at the way Sophie had been treated.

  'Yes,' Sophie grimaced. 'Well. Bed, I think,' she said again firmly.

  Aunt Millie nodded, her expression indulgent. 'You have a lie-in in the morning, if you want to. There's no hurry for you to leave,' she added with indignation at the cavalier treatment Sophie had received.

  Aunt Millie being so gently kind—especially when Sophie wasn't one hundred per cent certain she deserved it!—was almost as nerve-racking as one of her repri­mands could be, Sophie decided, beating a hasty retreat.

  But once she reached her bedroom she found she was no longer tired enough to go to bed, her mind racing with alternative plans she could make for the next week. Genteel poverty sounded rather elegant, almost noble, but it didn't pay the bills, or put food in her stomach. Oh, she would find another job, was sure of it, had never failed yet. But until she did...

  Maybe if she read for a while she would start to feel sleepy again; the amount of times she had fallen asleep over one of her books in the past, she wouldn't be in the least surprised if it worked now! But the books she had brought with her weren't for light reading, and the more she tried not to think about it, the more the ex­tensive library she had spotted earlier today in the main house seemed to lure her. In fact, one of the first things she had intended doing once she was taken on as Jennifer's companion had been to ask Maximilian Grant if she could have a good look round in there; if—holy of holies!—she might actually be allowed to read some of the leather-bound books if she was very careful with them. Her fingers itched just to touch them.

  Maybe Maximilian Grant wouldn't mind if she were to just take a little look in there now...? After all, she wouldn't get another opportunity.

  The house, when she ventured out of her bedroom, was in darkness, both her aunt and Maximilian Grant seeming to have gone to bed now. The elegant beauty of the high-ceilinged hallway took on frightening pro­portions in the shadows of the night, making Sophie wonder if she was really that desperate to have a look in the library after all!

  But once she had opened the library door, and lit­erally just smelt all those books, she knew she had to go in and take a look. One of the switches beside the door activated the tall lamp that stood beside the green leather armchair that was placed to one side of the fire­place, the latter filled with a vase of dried flowers this time of year. The central heating was more than ad­equate for a cool May night.

  All the classics were there, all beautifully bound, and, as she had known it would, it gave her pleasure just to touch them.

  She didn't believe it, almost the first book she pulled out; Jane Eyre! After the thoughts she had had earlier this evening, she knew this was the book she would have to read to get to sleep tonight. Her fingers closed lov­ingly about the green leather as she pulled the book down from the shelf.

  But the book fell to the carpeted floor with a thud as she was grabbed from behind, crying out as her arm was twisted up behind her back and she was spun round in movements so deftly executed that she barely had time to breathe after that first shocked shriek.

  And when she found herself pressed up against the hard steel of Maximilian Grant's chest, with wide, frightened eyes staring up into his furiously angry ones, she wasn't sure she was ever going to be able to breathe again!

  'You!' he accused her disgustedly, although he made no effort to release her.

  When Sophie was becoming more and more desperate by the second that he should do so; she wasn't sure how much longer she was going to be able to remain even standing without breathing!

  Close to him like this—very close to him, their bodies moulded together from shoulder to thighs!—she was made aware of every pore of his skin, every harsh line and feature—and at the moment he looked very harsh indeed!—and of the coldness of his eyes, and it was enough to freeze the very blood in her veins. There was certainly no amusement in those eyes now, not even at her expense. In fact, he looked positively hostile!

  At the same time as Sophie registered all of this, she also knew that she had never been so aware of a man in her life before. Bone-meltingly, pulse-racingly, cheek-burningly aware of Maximilian Grant with every part of her, her senses singi
ng, from the top of her head to the tips of her tingling toes.

  And if she didn't start to breathe again soon she was going to faint dead away at his feet!

  Maximilian solved the problem for her by thrusting her away from him, his eyes narrowed to steely slits now as he still held her in his gaze at least. Sophie rubbed at the painful part of her wrist where he had held her so tightly, at the same time taking huge gulps of air into her starved lungs, still too shocked to actually say any­thing after being taken so much by surprise by the fierceness of his attack.

  It must be almost half an hour now since she had left his study, and, while she at least had taken off the uncomfortably high-heeled shoes since going to her bedroom, Maximilian looked exactly as he had when she had left him, still fully clothed and not—

  'What are you doing in here?' he demanded harshly, his body tautly challenging.

  He looked almost threatening, seeming to bar her way to the door that still stood slightly open, reminding Sophie that she had been the one to leave it that way initially, which was why she hadn't heard Maximilian's entrance a few minutes ago.

  She eyed him warily. 'Looking for a book to read...?' She gave a hopeful shrug, wondering why she should have such a strong feeling that he wouldn't believe her; this was the library, after all. What did he think she was doing in here?

  The icy-blue gaze didn't waver. 'At this time of the morning?'

  He didn't believe her! ‘I couldn't sleep after our talk,' she shrugged. ‘I mean—I knew I wouldn't be able to, even if I went to bed,' she added hastily as he looked pointedly at the blouse and skirt she still wore, making it obvious that she hadn't even gone to bed to try to sleep yet. 'Too much on my mind,' she grimaced.

  He folded his arms in front of his chest. 'A guilty conscience can make you feel like that.'

  'Guilty—? Now look here,' she spluttered indig­nantly. ‘I don't have anything to feel guilty about.' She glared at him at the implication that she had. Good God, if he was still going on about her wandering down the darkened road earlier, that had been his fault. And she was going to tell him so too if he didn't stop throwing it up in her face!

  Dark blond brows rose over coolly assessing blue eyes. 'Implying that I do?' The query was made silkily soft.

  Her gaze dropped from his. 'Well, I certainly have nothing to feel guilty about!' she insisted stubbornly. God, she hadn't been intending to steal a book from his precious library, if that were what he was worried about; could she do nothing right where this man was con­cerned? 'I realise that perhaps I should have asked before borrowing a book.' Her gaze returned the challenge in his now. 'But given the lateness of the hour, and the fact that I would have returned the book to its shelf in the morning before I left, without anyone being any the wiser—' she watched as he bent down to retrieve the book from the carpeted floor at their feet '—I didn't think that would be necessary. Obviously I was wrong,' she added tautly.

  He turned the book over in his hands that were long and slender, but nevertheless gave the impression of a steely strength. Sophie knew just how strong they could be, could still feel the imprint of those artistically shaped fingers on her wrist. She was trying hard not to re­member how being hauled unceremoniously up against him had affected her. Luckily, his insulting behaviour since was making that very easy to do!

  'Jane Eyre.' His mouth twisted mockingly as he read the title printed in gold-leaf on the front and spine of the book. 'Let me guess,' he derided harshly. 'The ar­rogant but wealthy Rochester is a hero of yours?'

  Sophie could cheerfully have slapped him at that moment for the cynical insult in his voice. In fact, she had to clasp her hands behind her back to stop herself from doing just that; she felt at that moment that she preferred Maximilian Grant cynically suspicious rather than derisively mocking! 'Luckily,' she snapped, 'Rochester has more than his wealth to endear him to Jane; he is also blessed with a sense of humour!'

  Maximilian's mouth twisted, the implication not lost on him. 'And you think I'm not?'

  Sophie's head tilted back challengingly, red curls gleaming like flame. 'From our acquaintance so far, I wouldn't know!'

  He laughed at her sharp retort, actually laughed, while putting the book down on the coffee-table that stood beside the armchair. 'Perhaps it's a pity you won't be staying on here after all, Sophie Gordon,' he murmured softly, still smiling. 'It seems I'm in need of reminding how to laugh at situations.'

  Sophie was so mesmerised by the transformation the laughter had effected in the harshness of his features— the eyes a deep blue with humour, laughter-lines appearing beside his nose and mouth, his teeth very white and even against his tanned skin—that initially she didn't take in what he had said. And then, when she did, she could only reflect how sad it must be to have to be reminded how to laugh.

  What sort of life did this man lead, that he should need reminding? She knew he was a widower, her aunt had told her that, but from what she could gather his wife had died three years ago, so surely there must be another love in his life by this time, someone who could share in his laughter? It wasn't very likely, Sophie was sure, that a physically fit man of thirty-nine should have remained celibate since the death of his wife, not when he had the added bonus of looking the way Maximilian Grant did. But she mustn't think about how attractive he was, certainly shouldn't remember that fierce physical ache she had known when her body was pressed so in­timately against his such a short time ago!

  And there was his daughter, sixteen-year-old Jennifer; didn't she bring laughter and happiness into his life? As lovingly close to her own parents as she was, she couldn't see how a father and daughter left alone together couldn't become even closer because of their loss. But perhaps Maximilian Grant's wealth even put a barrier between himself and his daughter; it would be extremely difficult in such circumstances, and given Maximilian's wealth, not to at least financially spoil a young girl who had been left motherless. Perhaps there was something to be said for genteel poverty, after all...

  'Now, it seems, I've taken the laughter from your life too,' Maximilian murmured with regret, blue eyes nar­rowed as he watched the differing emotions flickering across her face.

  'Oh, no,' she hastened to reassure him. 'I was just-thinking,' she told him lamely, hoping he wouldn't ask what she had been thinking about; she doubted that people very often felt sorry for this man, or that he would thank them for doing it!

  'A dangerous pastime, I've found,' he drawled dismissively. 'I think it's time we went to bed now, don't you? Why, "Jane",' he taunted as her face went pink. 'You surely didn't think I was suggesting we go to bed together!' He raised his brows mockingly.

  This man did have a sense of humour after all, even if it was a little cruel! 'Of course not,' she snapped. 'Mr Rochester would never have suggested anything so im­proper,' she mocked in return.

  Maximilian's mouth twisted. 'A twentieth-century Rochester might,' he said softly. 'Remember, he wasn't averse to trying to marry Jane while already having a wife!'

  Sophie gave that some thought. Mr Rochester hadn't been above trying to take what he wanted, namely Jane as his wife, any way that he could within the bounds of

  Jane's propriety; a modern-day Rochester probably would use complete seduction to achieve the same end!

  'How lucky for both of us, then, that you aren't Mr Rochester or I Jane,' she dismissed lightly.

  That piercing blue gaze held her steady hazel-coloured one for several seconds before he gave a slow inclination of his head, his hair looking silver in the lamplight. 'How lucky for us both,' he echoed softly. 'Take your book now, Sophie, and go.'

  She didn't even rise indignantly to the order as she would normally have done; she hastily picked up the book from the table—although she was no longer sure she wanted to read it!—and hurried over to the door. She hesitated when she reached it, turning back to look at him. He stood completely still, staring into the unlit fireplace, a man alone—and strangely lonely... No! If Maximilian Grant was alone
—or lonely—it was because he chose to be that way, and for no other reason. Sophie hurried from the library before any more doubts about the truth of that could take root and grow.

  What a strange, strange evening... She couldn't ever remember another like it. And her response to Maximilian's closeness had come as a complete shock to her. Oh, he was ruggedly handsome in that harshly autocratic way, but hardly her type, surely? And yet... Held so tightly against him, pressed to the hardness of his body, their differences in age, experience, hadn't seemed to matter—in fact, she hadn't given them a thought! At that moment, with Maximilian's face so close to her own, her gaze transfixed by his, she had just wanted him to kiss her!

  It was the oddest feeling, then, when it seemed only minutes since she had finally drifted off to sleep after hours of lying awake tormented by that realisation, to awaken with the certain knowledge that there was someone moving stealthily about her bedroom...!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SOPHIE had been having the strangest dream—involving telephones and women locked away in attics!—that it took her several seconds to realise she was actually awake, and that she wasn't alone in her bedroom!

  It was difficult to make out who it was, with the cur­tains pulled across the windows and throwing the room into shadow, but as her eyes became accustomed to the gloom she could see a figure standing over by the dressing-table, could—my God, she could hear the sound of coins jingling together. Her money. That she had placed on top of the dressing-table before going to bed. All the money she possessed in the world!

  Maximilian might have briefly thought last night, when he first came across her in the library, that she was a burglar, but it seemed she now—incredibly!—had a genuine one! And she didn't know what to do, what—