The Tempestuous Flame

‘I know,’ sighed Caroline. ‘That’s why I think there’s more to this than just Greg Fortnum needing a wife. Goodness, if he needed a wife that badly he has only to say so and thousands of girls would jump at the chance.’

‘Mm,’ Esther said thoughtfully. ‘But perhaps they aren’t the type of wife he would want. He would need someone who was used to entertaining people, someone beautiful and versed in all the social graces. And you have to admit you’re all of those things,’ she pointed out.

‘You’re beginning to sound like Daddy. Doesn’t love enter into his plans at all?’

‘Obviously not.’

‘I suppose he would expect me to meekly sit at home while he went out to see his mistress. Well, I don’t want that type of marriage. I want—I want a marriage like yours.’

Esther laughed, a tinkling bell-like sound that caused many male heads to turn in their direction. The two of them were totally unconcerned about the admiring glances that had been directed towards them during the last fifteen minutes, being accustomed to causing a stir wherever they went, one being so darkly beautiful and the other so fair.

‘Well, I’m pleased that you find my marriage a good example of married life, but even John and I argue at times. I think all married couples do. As for you sitting meekly at home while your husband goes out, I certainly can’t see that happening. But you’re not seriously thinking of marrying him, are you?’ She couldn’t help but sound surprised, knowing how stubborn Caroline could be when she set her mind on something.

‘Certainly not! I’ve told Daddy that he can entertain Greg Fortnum on his own this weekend, and I also told him I was going away for a couple of days. I wasn’t, but I think I may go down to the cottage for a while. Anything to avoid meeting that man.’

‘Go to the cottage in this weather?’ Esther referred to the rain outside. ‘But, Caroline, it’s probably freezing there this time of year. Why don’t you come to us instead?’

Caroline shook her head, tucking into the steak she had ordered with unconcealed relish. She might have argued with her father, but it certainly hadn’t robbed her of her appetite. ‘No, I think it would be better if I got right away from town. Thanks for the offer, though. Mmm, this steak’s good,’ she took a sip of wine. ‘The cottage will be all right once I get a fire going. I could stay for a couple of weeks if I wanted to.’

‘I think you would be better to come to us. You know we love having you and perhaps we could ask Nick to make up a foursome. John and I found a lovely new restaurant the other day, we could try that out again.’

Nick was Esther’s brother, and although Caroline liked him very much, to her he was just like the brother she had never had. She and Esther were like sisters anyway, and so it had been a natural progression. ‘No, Esther, it’s lovely of you to ask me, but I don’t want to be near enough for Daddy to find me. You understand? You’ll be the first person Daddy thinks of contacting when he starts looking for me.’

Esther nodded. ‘I suppose so. But I think you’re making a mistake. Would it do any harm for you to meet the man? That wouldn’t commit you to anything, would it?’

‘No, except it gives Daddy a certain amount of satisfaction I don’t intend him to have. I think the best thing for me to do is stay out of the way until he forgets all about marriage and Greg Fortnum. And I can work at the cottage.’ She thought with pleasure of the studio her father had converted for her from one of the bedrooms at the cottage. As there had only been three of them to start with she had thought it very generous of him—she knew how he loved his comforts. Not that he spent a lot of time at their cottage, making Caroline regard it as her personal property.

John arrived a few minutes later to take Esther shopping for the afternoon, and after a few minutes’ chatter Caroline excused herself. If she wanted to reach the cottage today she would have to leave soon. She walked gracefully out of the restaurant, a tall honey-blonde girl with the face of a perfect sculpture. It was this perfection that kept most of the men who weren’t fortune-hunters away from her, they couldn’t be kept away by anything.

She let herself quietly into the apartment, but a quick look around assured her that her father wasn’t at home. It didn’t take her long to pack the necessary clothing for a stay at the Cumbrian cottage, just a few pairs of trousers and some thick jumpers to keep out the cold. Esther was right, January wasn’t really the ideal month to go to her retreat, but after her father’s earlier determination she didn’t want to be anywhere he could reach her easily. He could be very persuasive in the right mood, and she wasn’t impervious to his charm. The cottage was the ideal place to go in the circumstances. Of course there was a telephone there, her father refused to go anywhere there wasn’t one, but if she didn’t answer it he wouldn’t know she was there.

She left him a note saying she would call him during the next few days, but that she refused to come back until Greg Fortnum was well out of the picture. She gave a nod of satisfaction and picking up the hastily packed suitcase, walked to the door. It was at just that moment the telephone began to ring. Caroline looked at it irritably; should she answer it or shouldn’t she? If it was her father she could always pretend to be Maggie, their housekeeper.

‘Yes?’ she enquired curtly, automatically reciting their telephone number.

‘Good afternoon,’ greeted a coolly clipped voice. ‘I wish to speak to Mr Rayner. Is that possible?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Caroline replied politely. What an attractive voice this man had, although it wasn’t recognisable as anyone she knew. ‘Mr Rayner isn’t at home at the moment. Could I take a message?’

‘Certainly. Could you ask him to ring me back? Greg Fortnum is the name, he’ll know the number.’

Caroline stared with horror at the telephone, looking at it as if it had suddenly turned into a viper. Greg Fortnum! The last person she wanted to talk to!

‘Hello?’ he said sharply. ‘Are you still there?’

‘Yes—yes, I’m still here. Did you say Greg Fortnum?’

‘I did,’ he replied, obviously becoming impatient. ‘Is anything wrong?’

She could almost have laughed at this question. Anything wrong? Everything was wrong! She was calmly talking to the man who had clinically suggested marrying her! But then he didn’t know that he was actually talking to her, Caroline Rayner, he probably thought she was the maid. ‘No, sir,’ she answered demurely. ‘I’ll tell Mr Rayner you called.’

‘Thank you.’ The abrupt click at the other end of the telephone told her he had rung off.

Well! So that was the famous Greg Fortnum. A bit abrupt perhaps, but definitely an attractive voice, sort of sexy. In the right mood and setting it could probably be downright seductive. She wondered if the body fitted the voice—probably, if his reputation was anything to go by. But then she didn’t want to marry a rake, no matter how attractive he was.

Determinedly she picked up her suitcase again and walked hurriedly out of the apartment before she changed her mind, she felt a burning sense of curiosity to meet the man at the other end of that telephone conversation. But what good would it do her? If he practised the charm on her that the voice pointed to him possessing she wouldn’t stand a chance, and before she knew what was happening she would have found herself married to him. And she didn’t intend marrying anyone just so they could have an accomplished hostess to grace their home. No, she wanted to be the most important thing in the life of the man she married, not just another asset.

It was already dark by the time she pulled the car up outside the cottage, and pulling open the double garage doors she parked the car inside out of the rain. She had stopped on the way for supplies, and taking these and her case she walked over to the cottage. The key to the door was under the mat as usual and letting herself in she instantly felt the coolness of the cottage. She rubbed her already cold hands together. Thank goodness there were some dry logs beside the fireplace, it wouldn’t take long for her to warm the place up and then she could get herself some soup to warm her.

She brought the sheets down from upstairs to air them in front of the glowing fire. A good night’s sleep and she would feel better. At the moment everything seemed creepy, and though not normally a nervous girl she wished she hadn’t come here now.

Her bedroom was quite warm from the fire she had burning in the small fireplace, but still she couldn’t sleep. She had been here on her own before, but usually it had been in the summer months when the nights were lighter. She shivered as she heard yet another strange noise outside.

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?’