Julia James - Innocent Cinderella

As she reached the ground floor, the chink of crockery from the dining room and a murmur of voices indicated that the staff were already busy preparing for breakfast. The drawing room was deserted, however, the French windows standing wide open to air the room, and she slipped out noiselessly on to the terrace and went down the broad steps.

The lawn was damp with early dew, and the air had a clarity and freshness not discernible in the house.

Marin knew where the pool was, because Clare Dawson had been talking regretfully before dinner last night about the herb garden that had been destroyed to make way for it by Graham’s first wife. She followed the path down to a high brick wall and pushed open the wrought iron gate.

As she walked in, a bird rose from one of the climbing roses growing round the enclosing walls and flew away with a trill of warning, leaving only silence.

Whatever the charms of the herb garden might have been, Marin felt as she looked around her that the first Mrs Halsay had made a good job of the conversion. There was a wooden changing pavilion painted pale yellow at one end, while wrought iron tables with cushioned chairs and parasols in pastel colours that matched the roses were set in groups round the pool.

She stood for a long moment, eyes half-closed, breathing the scent of the flowers in the warm, still air. Then she moved across the flagstones to the side of the pool and knelt, dabbling an exploratory hand in the turquoise water.

‘Trying to get some secret practice, Miss Wade?’ Diana Halsay’s voice made her start.

Mentally cursing the premature loss of her solitude, and its cause, Marin got to her feet and turned to face her hostess who was standing a couple of yards away, glossy in grey linen trousers and a matching silky top.

She said composedly, ‘Just testing the waters, Mrs Halsay.’

‘You’re certainly an early riser,’ Diana commented. ‘Fresh as a rose too. You’ve really impressed my husband. He was saying last night that you were what the French call “belle-laide” . Not strictly a beauty, but with an odd kind of attraction just the same.’

‘How very flattering.’ Marin lifted her chin. ‘I didn’t know I warranted being a topic of conversation.’

Diana gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘Oh, come on, sweetie. Not even you can be that naïve. But understand this. Whatever game you’re playing with Jake isn’t fooling anyone, except perhaps poor old Graham, who thinks you’re a really nice girl.’

Marin said tautly, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is no game.’

‘I hope not.’ Diana’s smile did not reach her eyes. ‘Because I promise that you’re in a strictly no-win situation.’

‘Trying to undermine the opposition, Diana?’ Jake asked from the gateway. ‘Isn’t that against the rules?’ He walked over to Marin, put a hand under her chin and bent to kiss her lightly on the lips. ‘You were missing when I woke up,’ he said softly. ‘That’s not allowed, either.’

‘One of the things we always had in common, darling,’ said Diana. ‘We both made our own rules and changed them whenever we wished. Maybe we should all remember that.’ She added, ‘Breakfast is being served—if either of you are interested.’

And, on that, she sauntered to the gate and disappeared, leaving them alone together.

JAKE’S HAND WAS still clasping Marin’s chin as he looked down into her eyes.

He said quietly, ‘Are you all right?’

‘Of course.’ She freed herself, stepping back. ‘How did you know where I was?’

‘I saw you from the bedroom, crossing the lawn. I wanted to talk to you anyway, but then I saw Diana following you and decided to hurry.’

She said stiltedly, ‘She doesn’t believe it. That we’re involved—having an affair.’

‘Did she say so?’

She looked past him. ‘Pretty much.’

‘Then we’ll have to try to be more convincing.’ He nodded at a wooden bench set against the wall. ‘Shall we sit down?’

She hesitated. ‘Shouldn’t we go back for breakfast?’

‘There’s plenty of time. Besides, we do need to talk, and this seems relatively neutral territory.’

‘Talk about what?’ she asked as she reluctantly took a seat beside him.

He shrugged. ‘Maybe explore the vast uncharted wastes of all the things we still don’t know about each other. I wouldn’t want to be caught out again by something like the house in Portugal.’

‘That’s hardly likely.’ She stared down at the flagstones. ‘Besides, I think we know enough to get us through the next twenty-four hours.’

‘After which?’

‘After which we revert to being strangers,’ Marin returned, ignoring the sudden thump of her heart. ‘Getting on with our very separate lives,’ she added with emphasis.

‘Well, there we differ,’ he said softly. ‘Because I think the mutual learning-process has just begun. And that our lives are going to be far from separate.’

Her glance was wary. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re currently occupying my property,’ he reminded her, his voice silky. ‘You must admit that creates a connection.’

‘If so, it’s a temporary one that I’m anxious to cut as soon as possible,’ Marin said grittily. Nor does it make me your property. ‘Now I still have a job, I can soon find alternative accommodation, and I shall.’

‘Tell me something,’ he said, after a pause. ‘Are you this prickly with all your clients?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Anyway, you’re not a client.’

‘No?’ Jake queried, the blue eyes scanning her speculatively. ‘Even when, like them, I’m paying quite generously for your services, Miss Wade? So, how do you regard me, then?’

‘You’re Lynne’s boss.’ She swallowed. ‘That’s all. I—I don’t need to know anything else.’

‘If that’s true,’ he said slowly, ‘Why do I get the distinct impression I’ve been tried and found wanting?’

Marin glanced away. ‘Now you’re being absurd.’

‘I don’t think so,’ he returned. ‘So what’s the problem? I thought I’d made it clear you can trust me not to step out of line, except in dire emergency.’

She remembered the warm weight of his body pressing her down into the bed, the glide of his fingers uncovering, discovering her exposed flesh. And all for Diana, watching from the doorway with her fixed, unsmiling smile.

No, she thought. He didn’t cross the line even then. I could have been a waxwork—or even one of those blow-up dolls.

‘Maybe I feel that convincing you I’m reliable is a big step towards proving to Graham that he has nothing to fear from me, either.’

He added bleakly, ‘And my need to do that has no connection with his being a client.’

She said, ‘You really like Mr Halsay, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And I admire him too, apart from his unerring ability to pick the wrong women.’

She gasped. ‘Are you saying your own choices have always been impeccable?’

‘No.’ Jake’s tone held a touch of chill. ‘But I don’t marry my mistakes.’

Or at all, she thought. Which is why you’d rather pretend to be close to me instead of raising the hopes of any of the girls you’re seeing, like Celia Forrest. Because you know there’s no danger of me taking you seriously—of being fooled by the way you seem to look at me sometimes, the warmth I think I hear in your voice.