A Vengeful Reunion Read online

  ‘How did you know I’d be here?’ he demanded. ‘For all you knew I might have been on my way back to Pennington, or even London.’

  ‘I rang just now to make sure.’

  ‘So that was you,’ he said grimly. ‘Take your boots off. And the socks.’ He led the way into the cramped, old-fashioned kitchen, where a stained old Aga gave out welcome warmth. He draped the socks over the front rail, held out his hand for her coat, and shook it, then gave her a towel and told her to dry her hair. She rubbed at the damp, tightly curling mass, her adrenaline slowly replaced by a strong suspicion that she’d been a fool to charge over here in a temper. Now it was too late she could see, with depressing clarity, that she should have slept on her anger and confronted Jonah in the morning, in cold blood.

  ‘You’re shivering,’ he observed without sympathy. ‘I’m afraid this place is only barely habitable, but there’s a fire in the other room. Go and sit by it. I’ll make some coffee.’

  In the little sitting room the brand-new sofa and work-manlike desk and office chair were very different from the chintz and comfortable clutter of Mrs Baxter, wife of the Brockhill head gardener in the past. A laptop lay open on the desk beside a pile of ancient-looking deeds Jonah had obviously been working on before the interruption. Heartily sorry, now, for the furious impulse which had propelled her here, Leonie sat on the edge of the sofa and stretched out cold bare feet to the warmth of flames crackling round stacked logs in the fireplace.

  When Jonah came in she tucked her feet back quickly, and received a mug of coffee with brief thanks, mortified because her teeth were chattering too much to let her drink.

  ‘Are you that cold?’ he demanded. ‘Or do you feel ill?’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s reaction. I lost my temper—something I try to avoid,’ she added bitterly. ‘The only one who ever suffers by it is me.’

  ‘I disagree with that,’ he retorted, and sat down in the desk chair. ‘You were very obviously in a rage when you wrote that famous letter.’

  Leonie waited for the shivering to subside. ‘Actually I wasn’t,’ she said, when she could speak distinctly. ‘I’m not sure what the word is for the way I felt. Disillusion, shock, and as if the bottom had suddenly dropped out of my world. Is there one word to describe all that?’

  ‘If there isn’t there should be,’ he said bitingly. ‘It just about sums up my own reaction when you sent my ring back.’

  Leonie raised a doubting eyebrow and stared into the fire. ‘If you say so.’

  ‘You really believe you were the only one who suffered?’ he demanded.

  ‘No,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘I think you did care for me once—’

  ‘Care for you?’ Jonah sprang up and stalked towards her, to turn her face up to his with an ungentle hand, his eyes as sharp and cold as icicles as they bored into hers. ‘At the risk of sounding melodramatic, Miss Dysart, your letter was a stab to the heart.’

  She pushed his hand away. ‘It was meant to be,’ she said malevolently, and succeeded in drinking some of the coffee.

  Jonah sat down on the fender, arms folded. ‘So, Leonie, I didn’t ask you to come here tonight, but now you are here you can damn well give me an explanation at last.’

  ‘Oh, please,’ she said wearily. ‘Why keep up the act?’

  He leaned forward to emphasise his words. ‘Because I’m not guilty, Leo. You condemned me for a crime I didn’t commit. From the moment I first saw you there was never anyone else. And,’ he added with menace, ‘whoever told you so was a malicious liar.’

  She swallowed sickly, regretting the coffee. ‘No one told me. I found out all by myself.’

  He frowned. ‘Found what out?’

  Leonie suddenly lost patience. ‘We could go on and on like this all night, so I vote we drop the subject and revert to the little matter of Friars Wood.’ Her eyes glittered darkly as they met his. ‘Tell me, Jonah, did you make my father the offer for it out of revenge?’

  Jonah gave her a patronising smile. ‘My dear girl, you flatter yourself. It was a simple matter of business. My company recently acquired Brockhill, to develop the property and turn it into luxury apartments. After consultation with the board I made your father an offer which would have allowed me to do the same with Friars Wood, which stands on land that was once part of the Brockhill property.’ He paused, his eyes narrowing to a gleam which turned her cold. ‘I gave Tom time to think the offer over, of course, but this evening I’ve made a discovery. Before you came hammering on my door so dramatically I was looking through the deeds. I turned up something very interesting.’

  Something about his attitude made Leonie’s heart pound. ‘What was it?’

  Jonah smiled lazily. ‘As I said, Friars Wood stands on land once purchased from the Laceys of Brockhill.’

  ‘I know that. My great-grandfather bought it from his friend. Theodore Lacey owned most of the land round here at the time.’

  ‘How fascinating,’ said Jonah mockingly. ‘Unfortunately, the document in question shows that some mistake was made about the extent of the sale. To cut through the legal jargon, half an acre of your father’s property—the part where the Stables now stands, plus the strip which runs right down the road and allows access to Friars Wood, legally belongs to JS Developments.’

  Leonie felt the blood drain from her face. ‘So what does this mean?’ she asked at last. ‘Are you saying that if my father doesn’t want to sell he’s forced to pay you for the land he thought he owned all along?’

  ‘More or less,’ agreed Jonah affably.

  ‘What sort of money are we talking about?’

  The sum Jonah mentioned took Leonie’s breath away. ‘Of course,’ he said, eyeing her, ‘there are ways of getting round this particular problem if Tom doesn’t wish to sell.’

  ‘Ways?’ she repeated, incensed by his casual use of her father’s name. ‘What are you implying? My father would never countenance anything remotely irregular.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that.’ Jonah paused deliberately. ‘But because you love Friars Wood so much maybe you could, Leonie.’

  Her eyes flashed ominously. ‘What do you mean? I don’t possess that kind of money.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of money.’

  His smile sent the blood rushing back into Leonie’s face. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said tightly.

  Jonah shook his head in mock reproof. ‘Oh, come now. I think you understand very well.’

  ‘Are you suggesting I—I sell myself in exchange for a plot of land?’ Leonie’s mouth twisted in distaste. ‘Get real, Jonah. You may be some kind of squire now, but I’m no village—’ She stopped short, cursing herself as Jonah smiled.

  ‘Maiden? I know, Leo, I know,’ he agreed, eyes glittering. ‘I was your first lover, remember?’

  She remembered all too vividly, even after seven long years of doing her utmost to forget.

  ‘It’s very good of you to offer, of course,’ he continued kindly, getting to his feet. ‘But I was thinking of a different kind of trade, one which doesn’t involve your physical charms. Much as I still appreciate them. You were attractive enough before, but with a touch of maturity you’re almost beautiful.’

  Leonie suddenly lost it completely. She jumped up and slapped his face with a force that snapped his head back. ‘Do what you like with your poxy land,’ she threw at him, then gasped as Jonah’s hands clamped on her upper arms, the handprint on his face deepening in colour as the ice in his eyes gave way to a fury she’d never seen in them before.

  ‘Don’t, Jonah,’ she said in hoarse entreaty, struggling to free herself.

  ‘You knew the risk you were running when you came here tonight,’ he rasped, and pulled her into a crushing embrace she knew, from experience, she had no hope of escaping until he released her. But in the past she’d always yielded to it gladly, lovingly, exulting in her power to arouse him. A power it was alarmingly obvious she still possessed. He pulled her closer, thrusting his knee between her
thighs, his eyes blazing into hers as one hand clamped her wrists together behind her back, the other thrusting beneath her sweater to caress her breasts, which hardened in traitorous response. Leonie uttered a choked protest and fought like a tigress, willing herself to show no response, but Jonah’s relentless, knowing fingers teased and stroked, rolling erect nipples between thumb and forefinger to send fiery sensation streaking down to the part of her which throbbed in traitorous, moist response. Jonah’s mouth closed over hers, stifling her protests, his conquering lips and tongue reducing her to gasping, pulsating silence as he pushed her back down on the sofa, and as the final insult took the last of her breath away by lying full length on top of her. She glared up into his taut, implacable face, her chest heaving as he met the blaze in her eyes with a smile of triumph. She turned her face away, striving for cold indifference, then gasped in outrage as he unzipped her jeans, his seeking fingers probing between her thighs. She reared up in renewed, frenzied protest, but with merciless expertise he brought her to a solitary, gasping climax she could neither prevent nor disguise. Hot with shame, angry tears leaking from her closed eyes, she fought to control the breath tearing through her lungs, bracing herself for what she was certain would come next. But instead of taking possession of her, as she’d expected, Jonah stood up and returned to the fire, leaning a hand on the chimneypiece as he gazed down into the dying fire.

  ‘Put yourself back together,’ he said harshly, without looking at her. ‘I’ll drive you home.’

  Leonie scrambled to her feet, pushing tangled hair out of her eyes, shuddering with humiliation and rage as she knuckled the tears away. She yanked her sweater down and zipped up her jeans with shaking, clumsy fingers. ‘Right,’ she spat at his back. ‘I suppose I invited all that by coming here tonight. I was a fool, but at least now we’re quits. You’ve had your retaliation at last. I hope you’re satisfied—’

  ‘Satisfied? Wrong word, Leo.’ Jonah turned round, and Leonie’s face flamed as she realised why he’d kept his back to her. His jeans were old, and fitted so closely there was no mistaking his arousal.

  ‘My aim,’ said Jonah very deliberately, ‘was to prove a point. Which I did, very conclusively. I wouldn’t have sought you out to make the experiment, but you took it on yourself to come here of your own free will. So when you let fly at me I couldn’t resist the temptation.’

  ‘Yet you did resist it, ultimately.’ Her voice shook with illogical rage at the thought of it.

  He eyed her with polite interest. ‘Were you certain I meant to have you?’

  ‘I assumed you were going to carry on to the logical conclusion, yes.’ Her eyes narrowed suddenly. ‘So what were you doing, Jonah? Proving that my flesh was weaker than yours? That you had the self-control to abstain?’ She dropped her eyes to the tell-tale proof of his desire. ‘Or are you saving yourself for someone else? If so, I’m impressed. Fidelity, as I know only too well, isn’t your strongest point.’

  ‘Have you finished?’ Jonah’s voice was so deadly quiet Leonie took an involuntary step back. ‘Don’t worry,’ he assured her. ‘I shan’t touch you again. So sit down. And listen.’

  ‘I thought you were ready to drive me back,’ she began, but the look in his eyes silenced her. Burning with resentment, she resumed her place on the sofa, refusing to look at him.

  ‘Before you go let’s return to the trade we were discussing before your temper got the better of you,’ he observed dispassionately. ‘And a word of advice—be careful who you assault in future, Leonie. Another time you might not get off so lightly.’

  Lightly! ‘Don’t worry,’ she said bitterly. ‘I’ve never hit anyone before, nor am I likely to again.’

  He nodded approvingly. ‘Good. Your Latin lover, for instance, might not be so forbearing.’

  Leonie controlled herself with effort. ‘It’s getting late,’ she said tightly, ‘so just tell me what you want in exchange for the land and I’ll go home—whether you drive me or not. I can always go back the way I came.’

  ‘Don’t be childish, Leo. Of course I’ll drive you,’ he said impatiently. ‘Very well. My requirements are simple. I’ll make the land over to your father if you give me a full explanation, here and now, as to why you left me.’

  Leonie stared at him blankly. ‘You can’t be serious! You’re prepared to barter a valuable plot of land just to hear me tell you something you already know?’

  ‘For God’s sake,’ he said with sudden violence, ‘I don’t know. That’s the point.’ He leaned forward, his eyes locked with hers. ‘I won’t pretend that I’ve never looked at another woman since you left me. But I swear I was never unfaithful to you while we were together. I loved you, Leo. And, fool that I am, I thought you loved me.’

  ‘I did,’ she said passionately. ‘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. Then a log crashed in the fireplace and broke the spell. He added more logs to the blaze, then sat down beside her, leaving a careful space between them.

  Leonie sat very still, her eyes dry now as she stared at the flames curling up around the new logs. ‘All right, Jonah, I’ll explain,’ she said wearily, ‘but I want your promise that you’ll never mention this again. To me or anyone else.’

  ‘You have it,’ he assured her, and took her hand.

  She was tempted to snatch it away, but in the end let it stay in his hard, familiar grasp. ‘Before I start there’s something I need to know. You’re not the only one after the truth, Jonah.’ She turned to look at him. ‘How many people actually know that Fenny is your daughter?’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JONAH stared at her in such outrage that for the first time Leonie felt the cold frisson of doubt.

  ‘You actually believe I’m the father of Rachel’s child?’ He flung her hand away as though her touch contaminated him, his eyes lambent with distaste.

  ‘I know you are,’ she lashed out. ‘I was there that day.’

  ‘What day?’ he snarled.

  Leonie flinched, and Jonah clenched his teeth, controlling himself with obvious effort.

  ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,’ he said at last, ‘so explain. Start from the beginning.’

  Leonie had returned to Friars Wood for the Easter holiday, and spent the last weekend of it in London in Jonah’s flat before flying back to Italy for the final term, then coming home to marry him. They had met at a party given by Rachel Dysart during the summer vacation the previous year, and long before Leonie was due to go back to Florence Jonah had proposed, and was rapturously accepted. After she left they exchanged long, passionate letters, and a small fortune was spent on phone calls until they were reunited at Christmas, which Jonah spent at Friars Wood with the Dysarts, afterwards taking Leonie to stay with his parents over New Year.

  The Easter holiday was spent in much the same way, except for the final weekend alone together in his flat, talking over preparations for the wedding and bemoaning the coming separation. Jonah was unable to make the promised visit to Florence, because he was about to fly to New Zealand to represent JS Developments in a business deal in Auckland. They spent a shamelessly large proportion of their time in bed, their passion heightened by the looming separation, and it was a pale, hollow-eyed pair of lovers who parted early that foggy Monday morning, Jonah for his office, and Leonie to take a taxi to Heathrow.

  ‘Don’t come with me. Let’s say goodbye here, in private,’ she’d implored. ‘I hate airport partings.’

  ‘How about airport meetings?’ he teased. ‘You don’t want me waiting when you come back?’

  Leonie gave him her answer without words, and he responded in kind, kissing her with a mounting passion which made it hard for her to tear herself away when the taxi arrived. The fog was thicker than either she or Jonah had noticed in their absorption wi
th each other, and she was late arriving at the terminal, to discover that her flight was cancelled, all other flights were delayed, and she had parted from Jonah hours before she need have done. A hurried, persuasive interlude with the airline staff resulted in the exchange of her ticket for a flight next day, and a phone call to Florence to inform the school of the delay.

  In her jubilation Leonie’s next thought was to ring Jonah and tell him the glad news, then her eyes lit with sudden anticipation. Much better to return to the flat and surprise him when he got home. She made the return journey by underground, and by the time she arrived back she was feeling the effects of her sleep-starved weekend so much the prospect of a nap in Jonah’s bed was irresistible.

  Leonie woke with a start later that fateful Monday afternoon, to the sound of voices in the other room. She sat up in dismay, not at all pleased to find that Jonah had company. Then her eyes widened as she identified Jonah’s visitor. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, allowing the desolation in the woman’s voice to come through very clearly, and Leonie’s first instinct was to run from the room to offer comfort. Then the import of what she was hearing struck her like a physical blow.

  ‘Are you sure?’ demanded Jonah urgently.

  ‘Sure?’ said Rachel Dysart, and gave an embittered little laugh. ‘Oh, yes, Jonah. I’m sure. And after fainting in your father’s office an hour ago I imagine everyone else will be sure before long. You were sweet to rescue me.’

  ‘It seemed best to haul you out of there. Dad was in a terrible state.’

  ‘Not the behaviour he expects from his personal assistant!’

  ‘He was worried about you, Rachel. So was I,’ Jonah added emphatically.

  ‘Sorry I had to stop to be sick on the way. Horribly embarrassing.’

  ‘Not to me. It seemed best to bring you here for a bit as it’s nearer.’

  ‘Good move. But I’d like to go home now.’