Hunter's Moon & Bedded for Revenge Read online

  As soon as Bethany had seen the Victorian doll’s house, completely fitted out with authentic furniture, her other gifts had unfortunately faded into insignificance. It would have been impossible for them to come out today without bringing the treasured new gift. Although perhaps it was just as well that Bethany was so preoccupied; that challenging glint in Jonas’s eyes didn’t augur well for this visit!

  ‘Yes, Father,’ he drawled now. ‘Thank you for what you gave me too.’

  Peter’s gaze narrowed as he looked at his younger, more enigmatic son. ‘I didn’t give you anything,’ he snapped irritably.

  ‘Exactly,’ Jonas derided. ‘I’m thanking you for not being hypocritical enough to pretend a Christmas spirit towards me you don’t feel!’

  Cassandra tensed at the exchange, staring in dismay at the two men, although from their own tense expressions as they looked at each other she didn’t think either was aware of her presence there at the moment.

  Jonas had called for them this morning so that they could all visit his father together before going on to her mother’s for lunch, although she hadn’t intended to visit her father-in-law until Boxing Day; Cassandra could only wish now—now that it was too late to avoid this confrontation—that he hadn’t! It was the first time she had seen father and son together, and she wished it could be the last; the two men obviously couldn’t stand each other! So much for Jonas’s excuse that day about not leaving his father alone all over Christmas; she doubted, from their behaviour towards each other now, that father and son had spent more than a few minutes in each other’s company the whole of the last nine months—or that they had any particular wish to spend much more time together either!

  Peter gave his son a withering look before turning to Cassandra. ‘I hope it’s just coincidental that the two of you arrived here together today…?’ He frowned.

  ‘Do you?’ Jonas was the one to answer him tauntingly. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Father,’ he said without any apology. ‘But it isn’t!’

  Peter ignored him, still looking at Cassandra, eyes the same blue as Charles’s frowningly searching the paleness of her face. ‘Cassandra…?’ he finally prompted warily.

  She moistened dry lips. God, telling people, people she cared for, about herself and Jonas was going to be worse than she had imagined it would be. ‘Peter, I——’

  ‘Cassandra and I are going to be married, Father,’ Jonas cut in challengingly, obviously feeling none of Cassandra’s hesitation.

  And why should he? He obviously didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of him, or his actions! And Peter looked as if someone had physically struck him, his face grey now, gaunter than ever, his narrowed gaze suddenly seeming almost as dark as Jonas’s own as it was turned fiercely on his son. ‘Why?’ he demanded to know harshly.

  Jonas laughed softly, still sitting back in his chair, seemingly relaxed, although Cassandra noticed that his hands tightly gripped the wicker arms beneath them, whether consciously or unconsciously. ‘Because we want to, of course,’ he drawled dismissively, his gaze unblinking as he unflinchingly returned his father’s probing gaze.

  Peter looked at his son wordlessly for several minutes—several long, agonisingly tense minutes for Cassandra! Finally he turned to look at her, blue eyes pained. ‘Do you want to marry Jonas?’ he prompted warily.

  She glanced quickly at Jonas, warned by the dark chill of his eyes to be careful what she answered; whatever the arrangement was between them, he didn’t want his father to know of it. But she was no more anxious for Peter to know the truth either; exasperated as he too had felt at times by Charles’s behaviour, it would probably kill him if he knew just how badly he had behaved this time!

  ‘Of course,’ she assured Peter lightly—but it took all her effort of will to withstand the probing look he gave her afterwards, obviously doubting her claim.

  Being in the same room with these two men was like being caught in the middle of a storm, waves of resentment flowing between them. After the easy friendship that had existed between Peter and Charles, this contest of wills was nerve-racking!

  ‘Then I repeat, Jonas——’ Peter looked at the younger man glacially ‘—why do you want to marry Cassandra?’

  Jonas’s mouth quirked. ‘I’m not sure that question is exactly complimentary to Cassandra, Father,’ he taunted. ‘She’s a beautiful woman——’

  ‘She’s your brother’s widow!’ Peter cut in harshly.

  Cassandra drew in a sharp breath at his vehemence—and at the way Jonas’s face had gone white when she dared a glance at him. She might almost not have been in the room now for all the notice he took of her, his icy cold fury directed at his father as he sat forward in his chair, all pretence of being relaxed gone now. ‘I know what she is, Father,’ Jonas rasped coldly. ‘I also know she’s going to be my wife.’ There was challenge in every taut muscle of his body.

  ‘Don’t do this, Jonas,’ Peter warned gruffly, pain in his eyes now. ‘Leave the past where it belongs—in the past.’

  Jonas gave a harshly humourless laugh. ‘You can say that to me?’ he scorned. ‘I’ve been made to pay for my mother’s supposed sins all of my life, and you dare to tell me to leave the past alone!’ He shook his head in hard derision, standing up. ‘It’s time we were leaving, Cassandra,’ he told her with icy implacability.

  Cassandra had, by this time, believed both men to have forgotten she was there with them at all. In fact, she wished they might have done so for a while longer; their conversation had been revealing, but not revealing enough! What had happened in the past? She knew Peter had divorced Jonas’s mother while Jonas was still a young child, that the young boy had remained with his father and older brother after that divorce, but she didn’t know the reason for it, or why there was still such resentment between Jonas and Peter after all these years. And she had a feeling she should know—that here was the key to what drove Jonas, why he was as coldly determined as he was.

  ‘Cassandra!’ he repeated harshly now, standing tensely beside her chair waiting for her to leave with him.

  She stood up abruptly, attempting to smile reassuringly at Peter as he reached out suddenly and clasped her hand, squeezing his hand in understanding for his concern. ‘I’ll come back and see you before the New Year,’ she promised huskily.

  ‘We’re getting married then,’ Jonas put in hardly.

  ‘So soon?’ Alarm flared in Peter’s eyes at this news. ‘Charles hasn’t even been dead a year yet,’ he added emotionally.

  It was the worst possible thing he could have said; Jonas’s mouth tightened ominously at the rebuke. ‘Cassandra and I can’t wait any longer than the New Year,’ he stated firmly, his arm going possessively about her shoulders as he held her to his side, effectively breaking her contact with Peter as he did so. ‘Can we?’ he prompted her insistently.

  She could feel an anger in him, a tense, troubled anger that for once Cassandra felt wasn’t directed at her. The last thing Jonas wanted from her, from anyone, she would guess, was sympathy, and yet she knew that at that moment it was exactly what she felt for him.

  Whatever had gone wrong between Jonas’s mother and Peter, Jonas had grown up with a chip on his shoulder that had followed him even into adulthood. What could have happened twelve years ago to suddenly make him cut himself off from the family completely Cassandra had no idea, but suddenly she knew his life had been a very lonely one, and that a lot of it had been through choice, because he wouldn’t allow anyone close enough to hurt him again.

  Because of that, he no longer appeared so threatening to her. Which could be very dangerous…

  ‘No,’ she answered distractedly. ‘We can’t wait any longer than that.’

  She mustn’t think of his gentleness with Bethany, must try only to remember that he was forcing her into this marriage, blackmailing her into it. She couldn’t allow her feelings to soften towards this man. She couldn’t!

  She moved abruptly away from him, disturbed by her own feel
ings of weakness. ‘You’ll come to the wedding, Peter?’ There was pleading in her eyes as she made the request.

  ‘Mother will be there,’ Jonas announced with satisfaction.

  Cassandra turned to him sharply. She had assumed, she didn’t quite know why, that Jonas’s mother must be dead—which was a ridiculous assumption for her to have made, now that she really thought about it; why should Jonas’s mother have died when Peter, ten years his second wife’s senior, was still very much alive? Maybe, once again, it was that feeling Jonas gave of being an absolute loner, a man who needed no one and had no one.

  But he had a mother… What was she like, this woman Peter had divorced at a time when divorce wasn’t quite as commonplace as it was today, a woman who had left her child with his father after that divorce—a woman who had been Charles’s stepmother but whom Cassandra had certainly never met as such, and whom Charles and Peter never talked about?

  Peter’s mouth twisted at the deliberate challenge Jonas had directed at him. ‘So will I,’ he returned quietly. ‘If I’m invited?’

  ‘Of course,’ Jonas drawled. ‘I wouldn’t want you to miss my wedding.’

  Peter looked up at him sadly. ‘Where did we go wrong with you, Jonas?’ He shook his head. ‘Where?’

  “‘We” didn’t,’ Jonas told him harshly. ‘There was only you. And Charles, of course,’ he added derisively. ‘The Golden Boy.’

  Peter flinched at the taunt, although it looked far from the first time he had heard it. ‘You’re your mother’s son, all right,’ he rasped disgustedly.

  ‘I’m what you made me,’ Jonas scorned. ‘Made in your image. You just can’t see that.’

  His father shook his head. ‘Perhaps you are. But you’re Claire too, and she——’

  ‘Let’s leave my mother out of it!’ Jonas bit out harshly. ‘After all, you were always so blameless, you and Charles both. You never——’

  ‘Not in front of Cassandra, Jonas.’ Peter stood up too now, as tall as his son, but much frailer to look at, the years obviously having robbed him of much more than time; Jonas was the stronger of the two now, both physically and mentally.

  ‘Why shouldn’t she hear the truth? She’s family!’ Jonas hissed in reply, blazing with more emotion now than Cassandra had ever seen in him before. ‘And very soon she and Bethany will be my family!’ he announced triumphantly.

  ‘The child too…! I had forgotten for a moment.’ Peter shook his head wearily, seeming to sway slightly on his feet at the strain this conversation was putting him under. ‘Jonas, you can’t involve an innocent child like Bethany in this vengeful vendetta you feel towards Charles and me——’

  ‘I was an innocent child,’ the younger man reminded him harshly. ‘None of you seemed to care about that at the time!’

  ‘But Bethany——’

  ‘Is an adorable child,’ Jonas acknowledged coldly. ‘I love her already. I could never do anything to harm her. Never,’ he grated.

  His father looked at him searchingly, at the rigidly set jaw, the nerve that pulsed there, lines etched harshly beside his nose and thinned lips, cold black eyes wide with challenge. And something else… Something far more dangerous.

  ‘Look after them both, Jonas,’ Peter finally told him firmly. ‘Or you’ll have me to answer to!’

  Jonas’s mouth twisted without humour. ‘I’m not a child any more, Father—and I’ll do what I damn well please!’

  Cassandra knew Jonas spoke the truth when he said he loved Bethany and would never do anything to harm her. But what of Bethany’s mother? Cassandra wondered. She had been married to Charles, a man Jonas seemed to think as much responsible for his alienation from his family as his father had been. And she already knew she didn’t have that same immunity from Jonas’s anger that Bethany had.

  But she wanted to know more of the past, had to know exactly what had happened twelve years ago to drive Jonas away. Maybe once she knew that… It couldn’t possibly make Jonas despise her any less if she knew, but it just might help her to understand him.

  The only worry she had, with a man like Jonas, was that if she understood him she might not hate him any more. And if she didn’t hate him she might actually start to love him…

  No—she couldn’t possibly learn to love a man like Jonas!

  ‘Stay away from my father, Cassandra,’ Jonas warned her coldly on the drive to her mother’s house, Bethany safely strapped in the back of the car, talking lovingly to the doll Jonas had bought her for Christmas, which seemed capable of doing everything but actually breathing!

  Cassandra looked across at him frowningly as she sat beside him in the front of the car. ‘He’s just a lonely old man, Jonas, and Bethany and I are all he has——’

  ‘He has me too,’ he cut in harshly, his hands tightly gripping the steering-wheel now, black eyes staring straight ahead as he drove with controlled speed. ‘You’ve seen how highly he values me!’ he scorned bitterly.

  She had seen the wealth of pain that existed between the two men, yes. Was it all because of a lifetime’s misunderstanding and the fact that Peter had divorced Jonas’s mother, or was Charles involved in some way she hadn’t even thought of? She did know that nothing she had heard between father and son today had encouraged her to tell Jonas that Charles had been the one to take that money from Hunter and Kyle. She also knew she had to learn the truth, for her own peace of mind as much as anything else.

  ‘Your relationship with your father is nothing to do with me,’ she told Jonas now. ‘He’s still Bethany’s grandfather, and I——’

  ‘—intend seeing him when and if you feel like it,’ Jonas finished with derision. ‘Foolish woman, haven’t you realised yet that I don’t like being disobeyed?’ he mused confidently.

  It was that arrogant confidence that infuriated her the most, her eyes flashing deeply gold. ‘Foolish man, haven’t you learnt yet that I won’t be dictated to?’ she returned angrily.

  ‘Really?’ he returned tauntingly. ‘It’s my experience that given the right incentive you——’

  ‘Coercion, you mean,’ she accused heatedly, her voice kept necessarily low because of Bethany seated in the back of the car—otherwise she would have been shouting once again!

  Jonas shrugged unconcernedly. ‘Whatever, you respond to it,’ he scorned.

  And she had thought herself in danger of coming to like this man earlier, of feeling sorry for him, of understanding him. Good God, she understood him all right: he was an arrogant, insufferable, unfeeling swine! She didn’t need to know anything else about him.

  ‘I won’t be told who I can or can’t see, Jonas,’ she told him firmly. ‘Peter is Bethany’s grandfather——’

  ‘So you’ve said,’ he rasped. ‘And I want you to stay away from him until after our wedding; is that too much to ask?’ he said with sarcasm.

  In the circumstances, yes! She had told Peter she would go and see him, and go and see him she would. ‘Talking of the wedding…’ She turned to give a pointed look in Bethany’s direction. ‘If we’re going to tell my mother and Joy about it today then I think we should tell Bethany before we get there.’

  Jonas’s expression darkened. ‘But I thought you had already——Damn it!’ he swore as he manoeuvred the car to the side of the road, stopping the engine to turn and glare at Cassandra. ‘I assumed you had told her and she wasn’t thrilled with the idea, which was why she hadn’t said anything to me about it!’ He scowled darkly, glancing in the back of the car at the still engrossed Bethany.

  She hadn’t told Bethany of her marriage to Jonas because she dreaded her daughter’s reaction to the news, but not because she thought Bethany would hate the idea—on the contrary. And, as she had known last night, once Bethany was told there would be no turning back.

  She looked at Jonas unflinchingly. ‘Why should you have assumed I had told her any such thing? It may have escaped your notice, but I’m not exactly thrilled at the idea of marrying you myself,’ she added scornfully.

>   His mouth twisted. ‘Oh, I’ve noticed. But your aversion doesn’t seem to have stopped you accepting—and wearing—my gifts!’ He looked pointedly at the silver Celtic-design brooch she had pinned at the throat of the high-necked black sweater she wore.

  She knew without looking at it again that it was a beautiful brooch, made out of heavy silver, the black of her jumper a perfect foil for its large intricate design. Cassandra had liked it on sight; in fact she had liked all the things Jonas had had Jean place under the tree for her: the perfume and matching talcum powder, the Swiss chocolates, the beautiful purple wrap-around scarf, the book on Dickens that had both surprised and delighted her; she hadn’t realised Jonas had scanned her bookshelves so closely that he had realised the classic writer was one of her favourites. There had also been hand-embroidered hankerchiefs, a lovely figurine in delicate porcelain of a Victorian lady dressed up to go ice-skating, a Domingo CD she hadn’t yet bought—one of the few, the opera singer being one of her favourites—something else Jonas seemed to have taken the trouble to find out.

  In fact, all of his gifts had been thoughtfully chosen, and coming from anyone else Cassandra would have been thrilled at the care that had been taken selecting them. But this intimate knowledge from Jonas of her likes and dislikes just made her feel more vulnerable and exposed than ever, as if he weren’t just taking over her choices in life but all of the things she enjoyed too! She hadn’t even thanked him for the gifts yet, had felt too inhibited, as if admitting they were things that gave her pleasure somehow added to their intimacy.

  All those lively gifts made the impersonal gold cufflinks she had purchased for Bethany to give to him seem pretty poor in comparison! Although Jonas had assured Bethany he was delighted with them, the two of them laughing together as Bethany helped him put them on.