Sara Craven - The Innocent's Sinful Craving

But her cocoon provided no protection at all against the soft trembling deep within her, or the thoughts and memories she could no longer exclude from her consciousness, however hard she might try.

And, perhaps, in order to be free, she should allow her mind to travel back over seven years and—remember.

* * *

She should not even have been at Mannion that summer. Aunt Joss had visited the school to tell her with faint awkwardness about the planned alternative.

‘My friend Mrs Lewis has found you a job through her employment agency. A Mrs Heston needs an au pair to look after her eight-year-old girl and twin boys aged three. You’ll live as family and Mrs Heston will make sure you keep up with any holiday work set by the school.’

‘But I don’t want to spend my vacation with a bunch of strangers,’ Dana protested. ‘Nicola’s expecting me to come home with her. They’re having lots of people to stay, and there’ll be parties. And it’s Adam’s birthday.’

‘Thank you,’ said her aunt. ‘But I’m well aware of the social arrangements, as I shall be bearing the brunt of them.’

‘If I was there, I could help.’

‘I doubt that.’ Aunt Joss paused. ‘You have been excellent company for Nicola in the past, but you’re not children any more and you’re going to be leading very different lives, especially when Mrs Latimer’s arrangements over the house are complete.’

She meant when Adam took over.

As if Dana didn’t know that. As if it hadn’t been at the forefront of her mind since she’d first heard the news that her mother’s claim was being passed over yet again.

Something she would never accept.

Lying in her narrow bed at night, her brain seething, she’d invented and rejected all kinds of scenarios, but in the end it always came back to Adam.

She had never expected him to notice her, except as his younger sister’s friend and schoolmate, but thanks to Nicola that had changed a couple of years before, when Adam had come down to Mannion with a party of friends during the girls’ half-term break, and an impromptu tennis tournament had been organised.

Nicola had immediately turned down Adam’s invitation to partner him. ‘You should ask Dana,’ she’d declared. ‘She’s in the school team and a hundred times better than I am.’

If Adam was surprised at having the housekeeper’s niece foisted on to him, he hid it politely. In gratitude, Dana played out of her skin, and they ended as runners up in the tournament.

‘You should have won,’ said Zac Belisandro, who’d strolled down to watch the later stages. He looked at Adam. ‘You poached too many balls at the net, my friend, and failed to put them away.’

Dana felt a surge of resentment. He might be Serafina’s cousin and a ruthless and dynamic business tycoon, but she hated the way he appeared to stroll through life as if it had been created for his private amusement.

He was someone she tried to avoid when he was at Mannion—and he was there a lot.

‘It’s not Adam’s fault,’ she said impetuously. ‘He knows volleying isn’t my strong point and he was trying to protect me.’

There was a silence, then Zac’s brows rose. ‘Ah,’ he said softly. Mockingly. ‘So that is how it is.’ He turned back to Adam. ‘Serafina wishes to remind you there is tea on the terrace.’

‘Right, my shield and defender.’ Adam slid a casual arm round her shoulders. ‘Tea we shall have, and with strawberries and cream, even if this isn’t Wimbledon.’

Glowing, she allowed herself to be swept along.

She wasn’t invariably his partner that summer or the two that followed, but often enough to count, and to fill her with joyous anticipation at the start of every school holiday, as she waited for his usual visit. Then waited again for him to notice her and smile.

By the time she was seventeen, she was well past any lingering trace of puppy fat, spots or greasy hair. She had changed and so had the way that Adam had begun to look at her, his gaze considering, lingering and filling her with secret excitement.

Because he was acknowledging, she told herself exultantly, that she’d become a woman.

And he’d sealed his discovery by the kiss under the mistletoe they’d shared that Christmas in an unexpected moment of privacy. A kiss that had lengthened. Deepened, hinting at something far more, leaving her breathless.

‘My God,’ he’d whispered huskily as, reluctantly, they parted. ‘You’re full of surprises, Dana, my sweet, and I want to explore them all.’

Then, hurriedly, he’d let her go as the sound of voices signalled the end of the moment.

But there would be others. He’d said it and she knew it with a thrill of anticipation. Maybe at Easter...

But Adam did not come to Mannion at Easter.

‘He’s gone surfing in Cornwall with Zac and some other people,’ Nicola had told her casually.

Instinct told Dana that it would not be an all-male trip, but, then, why would it be? She knew through Nicola that he had girlfriends in London although they never accompanied him to Mannion.

‘Because Serafina wouldn’t let them share a room,’ Nicola had confided with a giggle. ‘She’s very strict about such things. And Adam wouldn’t want to upset her—especially now.’

What was so special about now? Dana had wondered, puzzled. And then Aunt Joss had told her about Serafina handing over Mannion, and she’d understood.

Understood and made her plans for the summer accordingly, only to have them completely blown out of the water, so that she could spend eight weeks running around after three children. It didn’t bear thinking about.

I need a miracle, she’d told herself.

A visit to the headmistress’s office wasn’t usually seen in that light, but as she came away Dana felt like cartwheeling down the corridor.

‘The Heston girls have got chickenpox and the whole family is in quarantine because none of them have had it—and neither have I,’ she told Nicola jubilantly.

‘Oh, thank heaven.’ Nicola’s face lit up. ‘It would have been awful without you. Now, we can have the best summer ever.’

Oh, yes, Dana had told herself. She would make sure of that—with Adam.

How sure I was, she thought now. And how terribly—shamingly wrong.

The storm had moved away into the distance, with only an occasional faint rumble as a reminder. She left the bed and walked to the window, drawing the rush of air deep into her lungs. She pulled over the solitary chair and sat, resting folded arms on the sill, looking out into the darkness. Still no lights anywhere. No moon. Not even the glimpse of a star.

And yet she could see the summer house as clearly as if it had been floodlit. Or simply imprinted on her mind in every detail.

Wooden, she thought, with a thatched roof and verandah where Serafina’s rattan lounger and footrest stood, because the summer house with its view over the house and grounds was her special place.

Thick wooden shutters over unglazed windows, and a wide door opening outwards. Inside, a small table holding a shallow pottery dish containing an assortment of tea lights. Folding chairs against one wall, and facing the door, an enormous elderly sofa, its once luxurious cushions now shabby and sagging, with an equally ancient fur rug on the floor in front of it.

And when she and Nicola had outgrown their shrubbery den, and Serafina did not require it, they were allowed to play there.

Strict rules applied. It had to be left clean and tidy, they were not allowed matches for the tea lights, and they had to close the shutters—‘Squirrels,’ Nicola had said succinctly—and lock up, taking the key back to the house and its hook in the boot room.

But that had been a small price to pay for all those long ago summer days and endless games of make believe.