A Vengeful Reunion Read online

  “I’ll make the land over to your father if you give me a full explanation as to why you left me.”

  Leonie stared at him blankly. “You’re prepared to barter a valuable plot of land just to hear me tell you something you already know?”

  “I don’t know. That’s the point.” He leaned forward, his eyes locked with hers. “I swear I was never unfaithful while we were together. I loved you, Leonie. And, fool that I am, I thought you loved me.”

  “I did. You know I did.” Her eyes glistened suddenly with unshed tears. “But one day I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And my whole life fell apart.”

  Jonah looked at her in expectant silence, which stretched Leonie’s nerves to the limit. “All right, Jonah, I’ll explain. But before I start there’s something I need to know. You’re not the only one after the truth. How many people actually know that Fenny is your daughter?”

  A family with a passion for life—and for love.

  Welcome to the first book in The Dysarts, a wonderful new series by favorite author Catherine George. A Vengeful Reunion tells the story of eldest daughter Leonie, who returns home for a family celebration and finds herself coming face-to-face with her former fiancé, Jonah Savage. The handsome property developer wants to know why she jilted him—even if that means resorting to a little blackmail and, since their mutual attraction remains as intense as ever, getting his revenge!

  Over the coming months, you’ll get to know each member of the Dysart family, and share in their trials and joys, their hopes and dreams, as they live their lives with passion—and for love.

  Look out for Jess’s story.

  Coming soon in The Dysarts

  Catherine George

  A VENGEFUL REUNION

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  SHE caught the train with seconds to spare. Breathless, she stowed her bag away, sank down into the nearest window seat, shrugged off her overcoat, then sat watching the fields of home rush by as she savoured the surprise she was about to spring.

  Once she’d handed over her ticket she got up to head for the buffet car in search of coffee. Several male eyes followed her progress along the swaying carriage, but one pair, more intent than the rest, watched from behind a newspaper, resuming their covert scrutiny as she passed by again on her way back to her seat.

  While she drank her coffee she went on with the book she’d started on the plane, and soon became absorbed enough to spare only peripheral attention when the train stopped at Swindon. When someone slid into the seat opposite she shifted her feet out of the way without looking up.

  ‘Good book, Leo?’

  Her head flew up as a laconic drawl severed her gaze from the page like a sword-thrust. Stunned, she stared into a lean, black-browed face she had once known only too well. The face was older than at their last meeting, with a few added lines and a new, arresting streak of silver in the ink-dark hair above it. But the high cheekbones and wide, beautifully cut mouth delivered the same, unforgettable impact.

  ‘Well, well, Jonah Savage,’ she said at last. ‘How are you?’

  ‘At the moment amazed to find myself face to face with the elusive Miss Dysart,’ he retorted. ‘Something it’s been damned difficult to achieve these past few years.’

  She smiled politely. ‘I still work abroad.’

  His brief smile of response stopped short of icy hazel-green eyes. ‘So what brings you back?’

  ‘It’s Adam’s twenty-first today. There’s a party at home.’

  ‘I heard you couldn’t make it.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘You did? How?’

  ‘I’ve been spending time at the Pennington office. I’ve seen your father quite often lately.’

  Leonie received the information with hot resentment, and considered moving to another seat. But that would look childish. And there was only an hour to go; even less if Jonah was leaving the train at Bristol Parkway. ‘Where are you heading?’ she asked.

  ‘Why, Leo?’ he drawled. ‘Eager to get rid of me?

  She shrugged her indifference.

  ‘I’ll take that as a no.’ His eyes locked onto hers like a heat-seeking missile. ‘So. How’s life in Florence?’

  ‘Interesting.’

  ‘Are you knee-deep in passionate Italian suitors?’

  ‘No,’ she returned coolly. ‘Just one.’

  He raised a sardonic eyebrow. ‘Swept off your feet by Latin charm?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  He stood up abruptly. ‘I’m off to buy a drink. Can I get you something?’

  Leonie refused, then slumped down in her seat in shock as she watched the tall, retreating figure. Jonah Savage had changed considerably since their last meeting. Which was only to be expected. A lot could happen—had happened—in seven years. But the eyes were the same. Like a prowling panther, according to her sister Jess.

  ‘How’s business?’ she asked, when Jonah returned.

  ‘Very good.’ He looked at her analytically. ‘How’s yours? Do you still enjoy teaching?’

  ‘I do. Very much.’

  His wide, expressive mouth curled slightly. ‘And what else do you enjoy in Florence, I wonder?’

  ‘Are you being offensive?’

  ‘Not in the least. Just interested.’

  Leonie met the relentless eyes with composure. ‘My job has expanded over the years. In the day I teach English to Italian children and Italian to little Brits and other expatriate offspring. I supervise games and swimming. And some evenings I give one-to-one English lessons, mainly to businessmen.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Not much time to spare for your lover.’

  Leonie shrugged, refusing to rise. ‘My weekends are free, and I teach some evenings, not all of them.’

  ‘Is your man in the same profession?’

  ‘No. Roberto’s involved in the family business—luxury hotels.’

  ‘Successful?’

  ‘Very. He’s the heir apparent. Just like you with your outfit.’

  Jonah sipped his coffee, scrutinising her feature by feature. ‘You look very different, Leo.’

  ‘Older, you mean.’

  ‘And colder. Or maybe it’s just the way you’ve screwed up your hair.’

  She returned the scrutiny. ‘You look different, too, Jonah. Harder. And colder, just like me.’

  ‘And what—or who—is responsible for that, I wonder?’ he cut back, the eyes narrowed suddenly to a feral gleam.

  Gloves off, thought Leonie, meeting the gleam head-on. ‘It’s useless to rehash the past, Jonah.’

  ‘Afraid you might call up old ghosts?’ His eyes widened in sudden, stark remorse. ‘Hell, Leo, I’m sorry. I had no intention—’

  ‘I know that!’ She changed the subject swiftly, saying the first thing that came into her head. ‘So tell me why you’re travelling my way.’

  ‘The company’s bought a property not far from your place. We’re developing the site. I’m camping out there for a while until I get proper security set up.’

  ‘What house?’ said Leonie, frowning. ‘There’s not usually much for sale round Stavely.’

  ‘Brockhill,’ he informed her.

  ‘I didn’t know the Laceys were selling up,’ she said, startled.

  ‘They decided the property was too big for them.’<
br />
  Leonie felt a sharp pang of regret. ‘Their family will miss the old place. When we were young Jess and I used to play in the gardens there with Theo and Will Lacey.’ She shivered. ‘I’d hate Dad to sell Friars Wood.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s my home, of course.’

  ‘You don’t spend much time there, Leo.’ Cold eyes held hers. ‘And if you marry your Italian home will be a long way from Friars Wood.’

  ‘That’s not the point,’ she said tightly. ‘The house is my point of origin. Home to the Dysarts for nearly a hundred years. I couldn’t bear to think of someone else living there.’

  Jonah glanced at his watch and got to his feet. ‘Almost there. I’d better collect my belongings. Goodbye, Leonie.’ He gave an oddly formal little bow and strolled back to his seat.

  Leonie stared after him, secretly furious that he’d left so abruptly. She should have told Jonah to go the moment she’d laid eyes on him, but now he’d pre-empted her. And called her Leonie, as he’d never done once upon a time. Appalled because she minded so much, she tried to revive her former glow of anticipation. But suddenly she felt tired and travel-weary, and not much in the mood for a party after seeing Jonah again, especially the noisy affair this one was sure to be. Adam had celebrated his actual birthday with fellow students days ago, but tonight they were converging on Friars Wood to celebrate all over again, along with neighbours and friends of the Dysarts. Adam had surprised his parents by requesting a family party for everyone, Leonie had been informed, during her weekly call home from Florence.

  At first, bitterly disappointed, Leonie had been sure she couldn’t make it. A flu bug had almost halved the teaching staff at the International School, making her absence impossible. But when the epidemic had spread to some of the children the principal had decided to close the school for a while until the epidemic was over. Keeping the glad news secret from her family, Leonie had rushed to buy an airline ticket, kissed Roberto Forli goodbye at Pisa airport and flown home.

  When the train was approaching Bristol Parkway Leonie saw Jonah Savage coming towards her along the carriage.

  ‘Is someone meeting you here?’ he asked, pausing beside her.

  She shook her head, wishing she’d given up the surprise idea and asked her father or Adam to meet her. ‘No one knows I’m coming. I’m going on to Newport. I’ll get a train from there.’

  ‘My car’s parked here, if you’d like a lift,’ he said casually. ‘I pass your place on the way to Brockhill.’

  Her first instinct was to refuse anything at all from Jonah Savage. But the plus of arriving home almost two hours earlier than she’d expected far outweighed the downside of a drive in Jonah’s company. ‘Thank you,’ said Leonie, getting up.

  ‘Not at all,’ he said politely, as though they were strangers. ‘Let me help you on with your coat.’

  As he did so the train gave a sudden lurch, throwing her against him, and for the first time in years Leonie Dysart found herself in Jonah Savage’s arms. He released her instantly, poker-faced, took her bag and motioned her ahead of him as the train drew to a halt. Leonie stepped off the train, shivering in the cold February wind, and from rather more than that. She was glad when Jonah set off up the stairs to the footbridge at such a punishing pace it quickly did wonders for both her body heat and her composure as she tried to keep up.

  To Leonie’s surprise Jonah’s car was a well-worn four-wheel drive, very different from the speedy sports models he’d once favoured.

  ‘Practical for your part of the world,’ he said laconically, picking up on her thought.

  ‘Very,’ she agreed, tensing as Jonah negotiated a busy roundabout with well-remembered panache.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he assured her with a sidelong glance. ‘I’ll get you home in one piece.’

  ‘It just seems strange to be on the left-hand side of the road,’ she snapped.

  Her oblique reference to life in Italy put an end to conversation as Jonah made for the motorway. But when they reached the Severn Bridge a gusting wind buffeted the car rather ominously as they crossed the river, and Leonie gave a deep, involuntary sigh.

  ‘Still nervous?’ asked Jonah, glancing at her.

  She smiled. ‘Not in the least. The sigh was thanksgiving. Once I’m on the bridge I feel I’m home.’

  Jonah’s jaw tightened. ‘If you’re so deeply attached to “home” why stay away so much?’

  ‘You know exactly why,’ she said bitterly.

  ‘Now that, Miss Dysart, is where you’re wrong. I do not. I have no idea why you ran off and left me, nor the reasons for your self-imposed exile.’ He turned a chill, penetrating stare on her for a moment, then returned his attention to the road as he negotiated the descent into Chepstow. ‘I got back from New Zealand to read your charming little note ordering me to stay away from you in future. Everything was over between us, you wrote. Unfortunately you omitted a single word of explanation. By that time the funeral was over and you were in Italy, refusing to see me or take my calls, and returning my letters as fast as I posted them. Somehow I could never bring myself to bare my soul in a fax,’ he added cuttingly. ‘Nor risk the possibility of some Florentine door slammed in my face if I came after you in person.’

  ‘As I said before,’ said Leonie coldly, ‘it’s pointless to rehash the past. Besides,’ she added, with sudden heat, ‘don’t try to play the jilted innocent, Jonah. You know exactly why I—’

  ‘Dumped me?’ he said affably.

  Leonie glared at him as she pulled a cellphone from her bag. ‘Either stop talking about it or let me out of the car. I can always ring Dad.’

  Jonah gave her a searing glance, then drove on in such absolute silence, as she’d requested, that by the end of the journey to Stavely, and home, Leonie was desperate to get out of the car.

  ‘Drop me outside the gates, please,’ she said tersely. ‘I can walk up to the house.’

  He ignored her as they reached the final rise towards Friars Wood, which, like several of its neighbours, was set back from the road in acres of garden and perched high on the cliffs overlooking the Wye Valley. To Leonie’s fury Jonah turned in at the gates, driving up the steep, rising bends of the drive to draw up on the terrace in front of the house. The front door immediately flew open, and Adam Dysart hurtled out, grinning from ear to ear as he sprinted down the path and took a flying leap down the steps to pluck his sister from the car into a bear-like hug.

  ‘You made it after all!’ he crowed, and whirled her round like a dervish until Leonie begged to be put down, by which time her father and mother were hurrying down to join them. There was a flurry of delighted greetings and kisses as Tom and Frances Dysart welcomed their eldest child home, and, after a swift, incredulous look, behaved as though it were the most natural thing in the world to find Jonah had driven her there.

  ‘Look out!’ yelled Adam, as a yellow retriever came streaking up the lawn to hurl itself on Leonie. Jonah’s arms shot out to catch her as she tripped, and in the ensuing hubbub any awkwardness was smoothed over as Frances Dysart ordered everyone inside, insisted Jonah came in for a drink, and told her son to go and look for the girls.

  ‘They took Marzi for a walk,’ she explained. ‘So now they’re probably running round in circles, searching for him.’

  Leonie hurried inside the house to breathe in the familiar home scents of flowers and cooking and polish, and the occasional whiff of dog. In the kitchen, which had once been two rooms, Frances waved Jonah to a seat with Tom at the oak table the family used for informal meals, then took Leonie with her to the business end of the room. She filled a kettle, put cakes on a plate and took cookies from a tin as she exclaimed over her daughter’s surprise appearance.

  Leonie leaned against the central island, aware of Jonah talking quietly to her father on the far side of the room as she explained about the flu bug and its unexpected bonus, and how she’d met Jonah by accident on the train and accepted a lift from him.

  F
rances Dysart gave her a searching look, but made no comment. ‘I’m sorry for the flu victims, but it’s so good to see you, darling. Roberto couldn’t come with you?’ she added in an undertone, pouring tea.

  ‘No, too busy,’ said Leonie guiltily, fondling the excited dog. The idea of suave, sophisticated Roberto Forli at a party with carousing undergraduates had been so unimaginable she hadn’t invited him. ‘Besides, there wouldn’t have been room to put him up if Adam’s crowd are staying the night.’

  ‘We would have managed,’ her mother assured her. ‘Take these cakes over to your father and Jonah; I’ll bring the tea. Where can those girls have gone?’ she added anxiously. ‘It’s getting late.’

  Leonie put the plate on the table in front of the men, then darted to the window. ‘Here they come now. Something’s wrong.’

  Adam was striding across the lawn, carrying a small figure in his arms, with seventeen-year-old Kate hurrying after him, wild dark curls blowing in the wind as she tried to keep up with her brother’s long legs.

  With her husband and Leonie close behind Frances hurried through the old-fashioned scullery to the kitchen door and threw it wide. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘She fell down and grazed her knee,’ said Adam cheerfully, and surrendered his wailing burden to his mother, while Kate flew into the kitchen to hug her sister in elation.

  ‘Leo—you came after all. Adam never said a word!’

  ‘Couldn’t make myself heard above the din,’ said Adam, grinning when the invalid’s woeful sobs stopped like magic as she slithered from her mother’s arms to hurl herself at Leonie.

  ‘Leo, they said you couldn’t come!’

  ‘I couldn’t miss Adam’s special day!’ Leonie hugged the little girl, then knelt in front of her, swabbing at her face with a tissue. ‘Now then, Fenny, what’s all the crying about?’

  ‘I hurt my knee, and it’s bleeding, and it’ll show at the party.’ The blotched, elfin face lit up with a sudden beam. ‘Guess what, Leo! I can stay up—’