Carole Mortimer Romance Collection

He turned to her with a genuinely surprised expression on his face. ‘I didn’t mean to be patronising.’ He frowned. ‘It’s just—well, you can’t deny you’re a bit on the small side, can you?’ He grimaced lamely. ‘You are a bit tetchy after our journey, aren’t you?’ His frown returned as he looked down at her. ‘Maybe we should have left it a couple more days before coming back.’

A couple more days of this man telling her what to do all the time and she would have thrown one of his trays of food at him! ‘I’m perfectly all right, thank you,’ she told him sharply. ‘I would just appreciate your treating me like a grown woman for a change!’

‘I thought I did,’ he said quietly.

Juliet looked across at him as she stood near the fire; there had been something altogether too intimate in his tone of voice. And since that first morning, as she had lain in bed in her underwear, there had been no further indication that he had even realised that she was a woman—certainly no apparent return of the intensity of feeling that had been between them so fleetingly.

She swallowed hard. ‘Your business partner, then,’ she corrected herself awkwardly, aware that, even if there had been no further physical awareness between them during the rest of their stay in Majorca, it was certainly there now. And it was the last thing she wanted with this particular man— with any man!

‘For the moment.’ He nodded abruptly. ‘We’ll know just how viable that is once I’ve looked over Carlyle Properties,’ he explained at her questioning look.

Juliet could only begin to guess what he meant by looking over Carlyle Properties, and, if he found it wasn’t viable, exactly what he would do about it!

‘You—’ She broke off abruptly as Janet entered with the tea-tray, appetising-looking sandwiches also there with the tea things. ‘Thank you, Janet.’ She smiled her dismissal of the older woman.

‘I’ll get a room ready for you just in case, Mr Liam,’ the housekeeper told him before she left.

Liam gave a wry smile. ‘She always was a tenacious woman. My father probably should have married her years ago,’ he added with a frown.

Juliet looked up from pouring the tea, the pot held poised in her hand. ‘I beg your pardon?’

He steadily returned her gaze. ‘Janet loved my father for years, surely you knew that?’ he said derisively.

She most certainly had not, had never picked up even so much of a hint that the other woman had felt that way towards William. Although she had always thought it strange that a lovely woman like Janet, obviously a once very beautiful woman, should never have married.

‘Obviously not,’ Liam drawled at Juliet’s stunned silence. ‘Well, they do say there’s none so blind…’ he dismissed drily. ‘Probably you just didn’t want to see it. After all, it might have interfered with your own relationship with my father if you had.’

Juliet felt the colour in her cheeks. ‘I have told you, repeatedly,’ she said emphatically, ‘that my relationship with your father was completely platonic!’

‘I know.’ Liam nodded mockingly. ‘And I have tried, repeatedly,’ he added just as emphatically, ‘to believe that you really lived here, for several years, it seems, as his assistant and platonic companion.’

And he obviously still didn’t believe it for one minute! Well, she wasn’t about to keep saying it; after all, there was another saying, ‘The lady doth protest too much, me thinks’; the more she kept denying it, the more likely Liam Carlyle was to believe it was true!

‘I always assumed my father didn’t return Janet’s feelings because he didn’t want any woman permanently in his life after my mother died,’ Liam frowned. ‘But as you’ve been here for some time that apparently wasn’t the case.’

Juliet had to bite her lip to stop herself once again answering defensively. No matter what she said, Liam wasn’t going to be convinced that she hadn’t been involved with his father. And really, at the end of the day, she didn’t care what he thought, as long as he helped her salvage Carlyle Properties.

‘Poor Janet,’ he added goadingly, taking his cup of tea out of Juliet’s slightly shaking hand.

The housekeeper had been extremely distraught at William’s death. In fact, she had been with him when he died, had taken his cup of tea up to his bedroom in the morning only to find that he had had a heart attack some time during the night. There hadn’t been time to call a doctor or anything else, as William had died almost immediately. It had almost been as if he had been waiting not to be alone when he went. But Juliet had never had any idea that Janet had actually loved her employer. How awful for the other woman. And how sad that she had apparently had years of unrequited love.

But Janet knew, no matter what Liam himself might have assumed to the contrary, that there had never been anything but friendship between Juliet and William, that the elderly man had been more like a father to her than anything else. And so Juliet had no reason to defend herself before Liam. She had no reason to, but it was still very difficult not to.

Liam gave an impatient glance at his watch. ‘Well, as it’s too late to go into the office today, we’ll have to leave that until the morning, so I think I’ll go and shower and change before having a look around this place.’ His expression was grim once again. ‘Although I stand by my first statement: nothing seems to have changed!’

Except that, since he had left ten years ago, his father and brother had both died, Juliet could have pointed out. But didn’t. This was all difficult enough as it was, without further antagonism between them.

‘I’ll get Janet to show you to your room,’ she said politely as she rang for the housekeeper.

Liam watched her consideringly. ‘You’re pretty good at this, aren’t you?’ he murmured tauntingly.

She steeled herself for the insult she knew was about to come. ‘Good at what?’

He shrugged. ‘Being mistress of the house. Must be years of training,’ he added with cold dismissal, before putting down his empty cup and striding out into the hallway to meet the housekeeper. Juliet heard the murmur of their voices seconds later.

There had been an unmistakable double edge to Liam’s last statement, and, although she had been half expecting it, it was still hurtful; her hands shook as she put down her own cup of tea untouched. By ‘mistress of the house’ Liam meant something completely different from the usual context, and he had meant to be deliberately insulting.

He was a strange man, one minute insisting that she rest while at his villa, the next, in this house, treating her with the contempt which he thought his father’s mistress deserved. But he was right about her insensitivity to Janet’s feelings for William; William and Janet had always got on extremely well, more like friends than employer and employee, but it had never occurred to Juliet that there might be more to it than that on Janet’s side. No wonder the other woman had been so upset at his death. Juliet felt a certain amount of guilt now where the housekeeper was concerned because of her own lack of understanding.

As no doubt Liam meant her to—although the guilt he believed she should feel was concerning her own supposed affair with his father!

Juliet busied herself in the study before dinner, dealing with any immediate business matters, only going upstairs to shower and change fifteen minutes before she knew the meal was to be served. She hadn’t seen Liam since he’d left the sitting-room so abruptly after tea, and could only suppose he had business of his own he was dealing with.

She felt as if her heart had jumped into her mouth as she walked down the hallway to her bedroom only to see the door further down from her own standing slightly ajar; someone was in Simon’s bedroom! Surely Janet wouldn’t have chosen that room to give Liam? No, she simply couldn’t believe that Janet could have been so insensitive.

But Liam could!

Juliet hurried down the hallway to stand in front of a doorway that hadn’t been opened for seven years, as far as she was aware. And she still couldn’t go into the room herself. She stood on the threshold looking in, watching him as he moved lightly around, looking at a room that had stayed exactly as Simon had left it.

He turned and saw her standing there; he was already dressed in a black evening suit and snowy white shirt. ‘I thought I would dress for dinner,’ he drawled drily as he saw her staring at him.

Juliet didn’t care what he wore for dinner; she just wanted him out of this room! ‘This is Simon’s room,’ she said stiffly.

Liam’s mouth twisted. ‘I’m well aware of whose room this was, Juliet,’ he bit out tautly. ‘My little brother obviously chose the furnishings himself!’ He looked derisively about him at the glass and chrome furniture which was completely at odds with the quiet elegance of the rest of the house.

And he was right—Simon had picked all the furniture in here himself, had taken great delight in modernising his own personal domain.

‘But I don’t suppose you would know that, would you?’ he said as he crossed the room to join her. ‘He’s been dead for over seven years now…’ he reflected.

She knew exactly how long Simon had been dead, could have told Liam not only to the day but to the hour and minute as well.

‘I do know that,’ she said abruptly. ‘What are you doing in here?’ She didn’t feel as if she could move away from the door now that it had finally been opened once again, even though she could sense that Liam wanted to leave the room.

He shrugged. ‘Trying to see, from the things he left behind, whether my little brother had changed at all.’

Juliet could have told him that she was also one of ‘the things’ that Simon had left behind, and could have asked what looking at her told him about his brother. But the shock of seeing this room again was more than enough for one evening; she wasn’t up to coping with Liam’s verbal fencing concerning her past relationship with Simon as well.

Liam gave a grimace at the chrome and glass furnishings. ‘He obviously hadn’t!’ he said disgustedly.

She couldn’t say whether Simon had changed or not after Liam had left; she could only remember the Simon that she had known. ‘You didn’t come home for his funeral either,’ she said flatly, finally managing to follow Liam from the room, closing the door firmly behind her, trembling slightly as that feeling of someone walking over her grave shivered down her spine.

He shook his head grimly. ‘He was already dead and buried by the time I read about it in the newspapers.’

‘And your rift with your father was so strong that you didn’t feel perhaps you could do him some good by returning?’ Juliet frowned.

His eyes hardened coldly. ‘Nothing had changed,’ he rasped harshly. ‘I still wouldn’t have been the son he wanted!’

‘But—’