SARA WOOD - The Unexpected Mistress

Her eyes blazed with loathing. ‘If you really want to know, I’m scared of going anywhere else!’ she cried shakily.

He raised a sardonic eyebrow. ‘Then it’s time you did.’

She gasped. So much for compassion. But Cassian would never know what it was to be uncertain and shy, or to be uncomfortable in unfamiliar surroundings. Her pulses pounded as her heart rate accelerated.

‘There’s more,’ she said, her lips dry with fear.

‘Yes?’

She swallowed. This was deeply personal. Normally, wild horses wouldn’t have dragged this out of her, but Cassian had to realise what this house meant to her.

‘My…’ She felt a fool. He was looking at her with cold hard eyes and she was having to expose her innermost secrets. For Adam, she told herself. And found the strength. Her eyes blazed blue and bright into his. ‘My mother lived here,’ she began tightly. ‘So?’

She drew in a sharp breath of irritation. This wasn’t going to get her anywhere. But…he’d adored his own mother. Wouldn’t he understand?

‘Cassian,’ she grated. ‘Is your mother still alive?’

He looked puzzled. ‘Yes. Why?’

Thank heaven. Maybe she had a chance. ‘You still see her, speak to her?’

‘She’s remarried. She lives in France, but yes, I see her. And I speak to her each week. What are you getting at?’ he asked curiously.

She offered up a small prayer to the Fates. ‘Imagine not knowing anything about her. Not even how she looked. Think what it would have been like, not to know that she’s beautiful, a gifted artist, and full of life and fire!’ Her eyes glowed feverishly with desperate passion.

‘I don’t see the—’

‘Well, that’s how it is for me!’ she cried shakily. ‘No one will speak of my mother and all trace of her was removed the day she left.’ Her voice broke and she took a moment to steady herself. ‘I wouldn’t know anything at all about her if it wasn’t for Mr Walker—’

‘Who?’ he exclaimed sharply.

‘He’s someone in the village. A lonely old man with a vile temper but he can’t walk far so I do his weekly shopping. He gives me a list and money for what he needs. I lug his shopping back, he complains about half of it and we both feel better.’

Her eyes went dreamy for a moment. Out of the blue, Mr Walker had once said that her mother was lovely. In his opinion, he’d said, Diana had been wasted on boring George Morris.

‘What did he say about her?’ Cassian asked warily.

She was surprised he was interested, but she smiled, remembering. ‘That she was passionate about life.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Yes. He said she was kind and very beautiful.’ Laura sighed. ‘Since I’m nothing like that, I think he was probably winding me up. When I asked him for more information he refused to say anything else.’

‘I see,’ he clipped, dark brows meeting hard together.

‘The point is that this house means more to me than just bricks and mortar and general sentimentality.’ Desperate now, she felt herself leaning forwards, punching out her words. ‘Thrushton Hall is all I have of my mother!’ she jerked out miserably.

‘Surely you must know about your mother—!’

‘No! I don’t!’ Wouldn’t he listen to her? Hadn’t he heard? ‘I don’t know what she looked like, how or why she left me, nothing!’

She was aware of Cassian’s stunned expression and took heart. He would see her plight and take pity on her.

‘Cassian, other than the house, I have nothing else to remember her by, not one single item she ever possessed. Everything has vanished. The only actual trace of her is me!’

She steadied her voice, aware that it had been shaking so strongly with emotion that she’d been almost incoherent.

‘I don’t believe this!’ he muttered.

‘It’s true!’ she cried desperately. ‘I’ve had to rely on my imagination! I’ve visualised her in this house, doing everyday things. That is where she must have stood to wash up, to cook,’ she cried, pointing with a fierce jab of her finger. ‘She must have sat at that very table to eat, to drink cups of tea. She would have stood at that window and gazed at the view of the soaring fells, just as I do. I can imagine her here and think of her going about her daily life. If—if I leave Thrushton,’ she stumbled, ‘I would have to leave behind those fragile half-memories of my mother. I’d have nothing at all left of her—and the little that I have is infinitely precious to me!’ she sobbed.

She saw Cassian’s jaw tighten and waited seemingly for an eternity before he answered.

‘You must make enquiries about her,’ he muttered, his tone flat and toneless.

Laura stared at him helplessly. How could she do that?

‘I can’t,’ she retorted miserably.

‘Afraid?’ he probed, his eyes unusually watchful.

‘Yes, if you must know!’ she retorted with a baleful glare.

‘Laura, you need to know—’

‘I can’t,’ she cried helplessly. ‘She’s probably started a new life somewhere and I could ruin it by turning up on her doorstep. I couldn’t do that to her. If it was all right for us to meet, she would have come to see me. I can’t take the initiative, can I?’

He was silent, his face stony. But she knew what he was thinking. That perhaps her mother hadn’t wanted to be reminded of her ‘mistake’.

Closing her mind to such a horrible idea, she lifted her chin in an attempt to appear tough. Though even a fool would have noticed her stupid, feeble trembling.

‘You must learn the truth—’ he began huskily.

‘No!’

She wrung her hands, frustrated that he couldn’t see how scared she was of confronting her mother. Maybe she was flighty. Maybe she’d had a string of lovers. Maybe…

‘Cassian,’ she croaked, voicing her worst fear, ‘I can’t pursue this. I—I just couldn’t face being rejected by her.’

‘I don’t think—’

‘How the devil do you know!’ she yelled. ‘She left me, didn’t she? Though…I suppose she knew that George would have won custody, whatever she did. She’d run away. He’d been looking after me and was a lawyer, after all. Mother must have known she didn’t have a chance. To be honest, I don’t even know if there was a court hearing about me. There might have been—and she might have tried to take me with her. I’ll never know. Nobody would ever talk about her.’ Slowly her head lifted till her troubled eyes met Cassian’s. ‘Mr Walker said she was full of life. Knowing how your mother felt, I understand why anyone with fire and energy would have found it difficult to live here,’ she said with dignity.

Cassian looked uncomfortable. ‘Laura,’ he said in a gravelly voice, ‘this is nothing to do with me. Not one of your arguments is sufficient reason for you to stay. Excuse me.’

He strode into the hall. She heard the sound of men moving about, presumably bringing in his possessions. She buried her head in her hands. She’d failed.

Cassian saw her emerging from the kitchen a few moments later, her eyes pink from crying, silver tear-track streaks glistening on her face. He gritted his teeth and continued to organise the stacking of his few belongings in the spacious hall.

Behind his bent back, he could hear the fast rasp of her breathing and sensed she was close to hysteria. And he felt as if he’d whipped a puppy.

‘All done, guv,’ announced one of the men.

Grateful for the diversion, he gave Len and Charlie his undivided attention. ‘Thanks. Great meeting you,’ he said warmly, shaking the men’s hands in turn.

He slid his wallet from his back pocket and handed over the fee plus a tip, brushing away their astonished refusals of such a large sum of money. What was cash to him? It came easily and went the same way.