PENNY JORDAN - An Unforgettable Man

‘Yes, I have,’ Courage had told her, willing the betraying colour not to run up under her skin as she fibbed. ‘I… There was some money after… after mother died. I… I never mentioned it at the time…’

‘Some money… Whose money?’ her grandmother had demanded suspiciously. ‘Your mother didn’t have any money, and if you think I’m going to let you pay for that operation with that man’s money, then…’

She had looked gravely at her grandmother. ‘Do you think I could ever bring myself to touch a penny of his?’ Tears had filled Courage’s eyes and her grandmother had reached out and patted her hand.

‘I’m sorry, love… It’s just… Well, it’s just my silly pride, I suppose. It seems all wrong, somehow, you having to spend your money on me.’

‘Who better to spend it on? You’re all I’ve got, Gran.’

‘Well, yes. And that’s another thing—you should be married, Courage… You should have children of your own to worry about…’

‘Are you trying to tell me that I’m on the shelf and past it?’ Courage had teased, trying to lighten the emotional atmosphere.

‘What I’m trying to tell you is that life can be lonely without someone of your own to share it with. I loved your grandfather very much. When he was killed during the war… Well, I had your father to think of, and then you, but we all need someone to love, Courage, and someone to be loved by.’

Courage fully agreed. The problem for her was finding that special someone—and they would have to be special. Her mother’s second marriage had left Courage wary. She liked men as friends, enjoyed their company and their conversation, but when it came to anything more intimate, Courage recognised uncomfortably now, as she dipped her head and started to twiddle with her hair, how very betraying her body language was.

She wasn’t just unhappy about the reality of total and emotional intimacy with a man, she was ill at ease even thinking about it. Not because she found the thought of sex unappealing, or frightening in any way. No, it wasn’t that that made her want to close her mind against her own thoughts, to shut them out and ignore them—in the same way that she had been fiercely trying to ignore the effect which Gideon’s touch had had on her ever since that small incident in his study—it was…

It was guilt that made her feel this way, she admitted. The guilt of knowing she had done something wrong, had experienced feelings and emotions she had had no right to feel… Had felt things… a need… a desire… A sense of excitement and pleasure it had been completely wrong for her to feel, and for a young man for whom she’d had no right to feel them. A young man who, in effect, had been a complete stranger to her. At sixteen she might have been naive, physically innocent and unawakened, but she had known immediately just what her feelings were when she had felt those strong, youthful male hands touch her body.

She could still remember how it had felt to open her eyes, to be wrenched from the sensual bliss of a kiss which had literally made her untutored body tremble on the brink of orgasm, and then to hear the sound of her stepsister’s malevolent voice.

‘Look at her, Daddy… Look at her. She’s nothing but a little whore… I did try to tell you.’

Shakily Courage abandoned her attempt to pick up the telephone receiver, her hands curling into two small protesting fists as she willed herself to ignore the torment of her memories, to push them away from her. It had been years now since she had last experienced anything like this, and she had actually begun to hope that she was finally beginning to get over what had happened.

She knew why this had happened, of course. It was Gideon Reynolds. Or rather it was her body’s sexual reaction to his touch. She trembled under the shudder of self-revulsion she could not control.

It had never happened like this before—no real-life man had ever caused her to relive that hot, acid outpouring of guilt and shame combined with an equally searing, aching need.

‘No.’

She said the word out loud, getting up and walking quickly over to the window. Hadn’t she already got enough problems, enough things to worry about without adding this?

She had been sixteen… Naive… Innocent… Never really intending to do anything wrong. But she had done wrong. Even though Gran had told her later, when she had finally coaxed her to unburden herself, that she was not really the one who was to blame.

Thank God for Gran. If she had not been there…had not realised that something was wrong… had not been concerned enough about her to persuade her mother to allow her to take her away… Courage shuddered again to think what fate might have ultimately befallen her if she had remained under her stepfather’s roof.

But she was not under his roof any longer, she was under Gideon Reynolds’, and she was supposed to be here to work. Determinedly she went back to the desk and reached again for the telephone.

She had already made herself known to all the other staff: the team of professional cleaners who came in daily to clean the house, the young mother who helped out in the kitchen, the gardeners and the men in charge of the golf course. From her conversations with them she had been able to build up a fairly clear picture of Gideon Reynolds’ mode of life, although that, no doubt, would change slightly once his business activities were based full-time here rather than in London, as he apparently intended.

She had also discovered that his PA was not very popular with the rest of the staff, either the men or the women.

His presence among them was, she was pleased to learn, only a temporary one, since once Gideon had transferred his business to the house Chris would return permanently to London, where he would be in charge of the office Gideon wished to retain there.

With the exception of the PA, all the other staff appeared to think very highly of Gideon.

Courage prided herself on her professionalism where her work was concerned, and by the time Gideon returned she intended to have familiarised herself thoroughly with the demands of her new role.

After working in a series of busy five-star hotel complexes running one house, however large, should not present too many problems to her. But having to please a variety of guests who, no matter how demanding, would inevitably move on, was not like having to please one individual man who would not.

A swift check of Gideon’s diary for the next month had shown her that in addition to the dinner party he had asked her to organise he would also be entertaining a small party of Japanese businessmen for four days, a group of officials from the Californian company who were consulting him about re-landscaping the large tracts of land devastated by fire, and a Kuwaiti prince and his entourage, as well as making several trips abroad himself.

This afternoon Courage planned to leave early, so that she could do some personal shopping before accompanying her grandmother on her first appointment with the heart specialist. They had both already been warned that before an operation could take place her grand-mother would have to undergo a series of exploratory tests.

‘All this fuss,’ her grandmother had grumbled, ‘and it’s not even as though there is anything seriously wrong with me. I just get a bit tired and dizzy sometimes, that’s all.’

‘Think how much better you’re going to feel afterwards,’ Courage had coaxed her, trying not to let her own real feelings show.

In the morning, Courage was going to London to interview the woman who she hoped would take Alphonse’s place, and then in the afternoon she and the woman in charge of the team of cleaners were going to go through the linen cupboards and allocate to each of the house’s ten bedrooms its own specific supply of bedlinen and towels.