Ruthless Tycoon, Innocent Wife Read online

  When the taxi he’d called dropped him outside the picturesque thatched cottage he didn’t immediately go inside in spite of the drizzling rain. He stood in the shadows, cursing the fact he’d let his heart—no, not his heart, he corrected himself grimly, but a part of his anatomy situated somewhat lower—rule his head back there at Seacrest. It had been stupid and he was not a stupid man. Usually. Normally, having learnt a lesson once, he did not need to repeat it. And what he had learnt regarding the fairer sex was that they could be enjoyed, pampered, even worshipped as long as you took them at face value. You didn’t trust women or expect anything from them and then you were not disappointed.

  He pulled the collar of his jacket more tightly round his neck but still drops of rain trickled down his back.

  Of course he hadn’t given up on women, far from it. As a species they had a lot going for them and he thoroughly enjoyed sharing his bed and even his life with a beautiful woman for a while. But he always set out the rules of engagement before an affair began. When the time came for goodbye, as it inevitably would, it had to be quick and clean. No feminine manoeuvres, no bickering or name-calling, no regrets. He didn’t want happy-ever-after and if a woman did, then regretfully he wasn’t the man for her. Simple.

  Why was he reminding himself of all this right now? And in the rain? One corner of his mouth twisted in a cynical smile. Because he’d let Marianne get under his skin, that was why. The thing was, she hadn’t conformed to the mental image he’d had of her before he had come to England, apart from being lovely enough to addle a man’s brains, that was.

  Shaking himself, physically and mentally, he opened the front door of the cottage and walked into the hall. It was the very essence of a quaint English cottage. Because the previous owners had been emigrating to join their son and his family in Australia they had accepted an offer for all the furniture, which had been a bonus in the circumstances. Mary came bustling out of the door which led to the kitchen at the far end of the hall as he stood there taking off his jacket. She beckoned to him, motioning with a finger on her lips to remain silent.

  ‘What’s the matter now?’ he asked as he stepped into the kitchen, the aroma of fried chicken causing his nose to twitch appreciatively.

  ‘Three guesses.’ It was wry. ‘He wouldn’t stay in bed and he’s insisting Will and I book our flights tomorrow.’

  ‘He can insist all he wants.’

  ‘I know that, Rafe, and of course we wouldn’t dream of leaving him without a suitable replacement in situ, but you know what he’s like when he’s got the bit between his teeth. It’s going to make things terribly difficult over the next little while till you find someone. If you find someone,’ she added darkly. ‘He’s so against having a stranger in the house.’

  ‘I just might have solved that problem.’ Rafe’s eyes went to the massive stove. ‘When’s dinner going to be ready?’

  ‘Couple of minutes. Go through to the dining room. Your father and Will are already seated, but first—’ she caught hold of his arm ‘—what do you mean, you’ve solved the problem?’

  ‘Might have solved the problem.’ Rafe swiftly put her in the picture.

  ‘Oh, Rafe, that’d be marvellous. And this Crystal is coming round tomorrow?’

  ‘She and Marianne together, on the pretext of meeting Dad and discussing business. Of course they might not hit it off. It’s been half a lifetime since they knew each other and even then they weren’t friends as such. But it’s better than nothing.’

  Mary nodded. ‘Have you warned her how cantankerous he can be since he’s got sick?’

  Rafe grinned. ‘Do you think I’m crazy? I want the woman to take the job.’

  He left Mary chuckling to herself and made his way to the oak-beamed dining room, where he found his father having a pre-dinner drink with Mary’s husband. The two men looked up as he entered the room and it struck Rafe how fit and healthy Will appeared compared to his father—one face tanned and bright-eyed and the other pale and washed-out. ‘You took your time.’ Andrew Steed scowled at the son who was his sun, moon and stars. ‘I thought you said you’d be half an hour or so.’

  ‘I was offered English tea, cake and muffins. How could I rush that?’ Rafe said lightly. ‘Marianne Carr’s housekeeper does an incredible fruit cake. But of course you know her, don’t you? Crystal Massey.’

  Andrew nodded. ‘It was Crystal Brownlow when we were at school, if I remember rightly.’

  ‘Well, you’ll be able to talk over your school days tomorrow. She’s calling round with Marianne to discuss a few things regarding Seacrest.’

  ‘Good.’ Again Andrew inclined his head. ‘I’d be interested to see Diane and Gerald’s daughter, but the sooner we get going on this project, the better. Time’s money.’

  It had been one of his father’s favourite sayings regarding business in times past, but of late Rafe hadn’t heard it. Now he noticed that, in spite of the exhausting journey his father had endured and the stress it had caused, his eyes were gleaming with the old enthusiasm he always displayed at the start of a new venture. It boded well. Rafe took the drink Will had poured for him. It boded very well indeed. And if Crystal would just play ball tomorrow and his father would curb the stubborn streak which had got worse since his illness, the next little while might not be as difficult as he had thought. Only he, and maybe Mary and Will to some extent, knew how deeply depressed his father had become as his independence and self-sufficiency had been savaged by his illness. The doctors in the States had intimated that his father’s state of mind could either make or break the treatment he was having, which had been one of the reasons he hadn’t liked the thought of him being so far from family and friends. But perhaps—just perhaps—the move hadn’t been such a bad thing after all.

  Sunbeams danced off the mullioned windows of the old cottage as Marianne parked the car the next morning. In stark contrast to the day before, the morning was one of warm breezes and bright sunshine, the sort of weather that would have meant—had she been visiting her parents, as in the old days—a whole day on the beach just enjoying the sea, sand and sky. As it was…Marianne took a deep breath as she turned off the engine and smiled at Crystal. She had never felt so nervous in her life. Not only was she about to meet the man who could have been her father if her mother had felt differently all those years ago, but Rafe would be there, too. And, since that kiss yesterday, she hadn’t known if she was on foot or horseback. And she couldn’t share her confusion with anyone, which didn’t help. Normally, Crystal would have been her confidante, but the older woman was too close to this situation.

  ‘OK, sweetheart?’ Crystal smiled back at her. ‘Now, don’t forget what I said. If you don’t want me to take on the job of temporary housekeeper here until Rafe fixes a permanent solution, that’s fine by me. You’re my main concern. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’ Marianne forced a brightness into her voice she was far from feeling. ‘But if Rafe’s father’s halfway reasonable it would solve the immediate problem. Rafe was really concerned about him yesterday.’

  Crystal’s eyes were shrewd as she stared at the young woman who was like a daughter to her. ‘You seem to be getting on better with him these days,’ she said expressionlessly.

  Marianne shrugged. ‘Matter of having to, with us being business partners,’ she prevaricated. ‘Anything less would have made things untenable.’ She opened the car door, effectively ending the conversation, and once on the pebbled drive said, ‘What a beautiful place this is. I remember coming carol-singing here as a child and the Haywards were always very generous. They used to have everyone in for a hot drink and mince pies.’

  Crystal didn’t comment on the change of topic. ‘They are a lovely couple,’ she agreed, ‘but they’ve been missing their son and his family like mad since they all emigrated a few years ago. It will be good for them to see their grandchildren on a day-to-day basis rather than once a year.’

  Marianne glanced at her. She remember
ed her mother telling her the Haywards’ son had been the same age as Crystal’s eldest son and great friends with the boy. Crystal had had so much taken away from her by the sea, which had been the village’s livelihood at one time, but she never seemed bitter or sorry for herself. Nevertheless, with the strong maternal streak she had, Crystal must have mourned the fact she would never have grandchildren of her own flesh and blood.

  The thought caused her to reach out and hug the older woman briefly, saying, ‘What would I do without you?’

  ‘And me you.’

  ‘So—’ Marianne squared her shoulders ‘—let’s go and meet Rafe’s father.’

  A nice smiley woman with a strong American accent ushered them through the sunlit hall and into a wood-beamed sitting room where Rafe and Andrew Steed rose to greet them. Marianne was immediately conscious of how similar the two men were, but also of how frail Andrew seemed beside the broad, vigorous figure of his son. Rafe introduced them and, as he did so, his father nodded his head, topped by a thick thatch of snow-white hair, saying, ‘So you’re Diane and Gerald’s daughter. I would have known that without being told. I suppose lots of people have told you you’re very like your mother, m’dear? But I can see Gerald, too. He had the same combination of fair hair and dark eyes. And Crystal—’ he let go of Marianne’s hand to shake Crystal’s ‘—you haven’t changed a bit.’

  ‘Go on with you.’ Crystal was laughing. ‘I was a slim young thing in those days and my hair colour didn’t come out of a bottle.’

  ‘Come and sit down.’ Rafe steered them to one of two sofas separated by a low, long coffee table, and he and his father sat down once they were seated. ‘Mary’s bringing coffee in a moment.’

  Marianne tried very hard to appear as relaxed as the other three seemed to be but it was hard. She was glad Andrew Steed had mentioned her parents straight off but at the same time it had thrown her somewhat. She had expected…She didn’t know what she’d expected, she admitted silently, but not this good-looking but gaunt elderly man with a rusty charm and eyes that were still a startling blue in the tired face. And he seemed nice. Not the rancorous, embittered person she had half been prepared to face.

  She listened to the others talking, adding a word here and there when it was expected of her but otherwise trying to gain her composure. It didn’t help her equilibrium one bit that Rafe was looking even more the brooding Heathcliff Victoria had labelled him all those weeks ago, his black jeans and black open-necked shirt sombre in the cream and gold room, and his tanned skin appearing even more dark against the light furnishings.

  She plucked up courage to glance at him once or twice but it set the butterflies dancing madly in her stomach and dried her mouth. All in all, she was relieved when Mary appeared with the coffee. At least holding a cup and saucer gave her hands something to do. Thankfully, Crystal and Andrew were intent on going down memory lane, naming old school friends and incidents from the past that meant something to them.

  Slowly Marianne began to relax. Andrew Steed wasn’t the awkward, hostile individual she had feared he might be, and Rafe was polite but distant, very much the businessman. And she could handle that. It was the other side of him—the man beneath the outward persona—she had trouble with.

  After coffee, Rafe spread the plans and drawings for Seacrest on the coffee table and they all peered at them, putting in the odd suggestion and discussing timetables and procedures.

  At the end of an hour it was Crystal who, after glancing at Andrew’s white face, said, ‘I think we’ve all had enough to take in for today and Marianne and I have a lunch engagement in half an hour. Do thank your housekeeper for the lovely walnut cake, Andrew. It was delicious. You must be very pleased she has agreed to come over to England with you.’ She stood up as she spoke, busying herself with slipping on her cardigan and not looking at him again.

  Andrew irritably pushed Rafe’s hand away when his son made a move to help him rise, standing up before he said to Crystal, ‘Actually, Mary and Will are returning to America shortly.’

  ‘That’s a shame.’ Crystal fluffed her hair, her voice nonchalant. ‘Who will you have in their place, then?’

  ‘A daily two or three times a week, if I can find one.’

  ‘You’ll be lucky round here.’ Crystal tilted her head on one side, as though an idea was occurring. ‘I tell you what, though, I might be able to help here. I’m going to be somewhat redundant at Seacrest while all the alterations are going on and I was dreading the brick dust and mess bringing on my dust allergy. If you don’t get someone before Mary and Will leave, let me know and we could perhaps work something out.’

  Andrew stared at her. ‘But you couldn’t leave Marianne.’

  ‘Me?’ Marianne took her cue from Crystal. ‘Don’t worry about me. I was worried about Crystal’s allergy, to be honest. It can be a nightmare for her.’

  ‘Really?’ Andrew looked from one woman to the other.

  ‘I was expecting to be hanging with my head out of the window most days,’ said Crystal, warming to the theme. ‘You’d be doing me a favour. But perhaps Mary and Will won’t go.’

  Andrew looked slightly sheepish. ‘I booked their flight this morning, although they don’t know that yet. They’ll be leaving at the weekend.’

  Rafe raised his eyes heavenwards behind his father’s back.

  ‘Well, think about it.’ Crystal held out her hand. ‘Goodbye for now, Andrew. It was nice meeting you again.’

  ‘I’ll see you out.’ Rafe gently pushed his father back down into his chair and it said a lot about Andrew’s exhaustion that he didn’t object too much.

  Once outside on the drive, Rafe said quietly, ‘Thanks, Crystal. That was very tactfully done. I’m grateful. The thing is, he refuses to admit how sick he is and that’s where the danger lies. If he’s not kept an eye on, he’ll do too much and then…Anyway, thanks again.’

  ‘Any time,’ said Crystal softly.

  Rafe smiled at her and Marianne felt an ache in her heart. He had never looked at her the way he was looking at Crystal—openly and candidly. With her, there was always a watchfulness, even a wariness in his manner.

  ‘You love him very much, don’t you,’ Crystal said softly, ‘and that’s natural, him being your father, but I can understand why he gets impatient sometimes. I remember him as one of those lads who was always on the go, never stopping for two minutes. Being forced to take things easy must be driving him mad.’

  ‘You don’t know the half.’ It was rueful. ‘He’d try the patience of a saint.’

  ‘Well, I’m no saint, Rafe, so if I do come and stay for a while there’ll probably be fireworks now and again.’

  ‘Fireworks he can take, Crystal. It’s boredom that’s sapping his will.’

  The blue eyes switched to Marianne and she felt the impact in every cell in her body. ‘I want to thank you again for agreeing to let Crystal make the offer, however it works out. It was kind of you.’

  Marianne flushed. It was a polite word of thanks but the wariness was there. ‘No problem,’ she said crisply, before swinging round and pressing the key to unlock her car.

  Rafe followed them as they slid in, bending over and peering through Marianne’s open door as he said, ‘I shall be returning to America at the end of the week and it looks like I’m going to be tied up there for a month or so. I’ve let things slip a little lately, with all the visits to find Dad a place here and so on. I’d like to take you both out to dinner as a thank you for this morning before I go.’

  ‘There’s no need,’ Marianne said quickly, ‘and your father might not even agree to Crystal moving in for a while anyway.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I’d like to take you both for a meal somewhere nice. Somewhere where you can dress up and take a breather from all that’s been going on.’

  Marianne opened her mouth to refuse again but, before she could voice the words hovering on her tongue, Crystal said, ‘That would be very nice, Rafe, thank you. We’d like to come, wouldn’t
we, Annie.’ It was a statement, not a question.

  Marianne was tempted to tell them both to go together but, knowing Crystal would be upset, she said stiffly, ‘Wouldn’t you rather spend the time with your father if you’re returning to the States?’

  ‘I thought Dad might like to come along, too.’ Laughing blue eyes took in her discomfiture. ‘Unless you have any objection to that?’ he murmured.

  Marianne’s flush deepened. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Good, that’s settled then. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.’

  ‘Fine.’ She tried to ignore her view of his narrow-waisted, lean-hipped torso but it was hard. Thankfully, he closed the car door and straightened in the next moment and she could start the engine. Her last sight of him was in the rear-view mirror as she left the drive. He was standing with his hands thrust in his pockets, his black hair slightly tousled and falling in the merest of quiffs across his forehead. He looked so good that she functioned on automatic all the way home.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ANDREW STEED telephoned that evening to say he would be delighted if Crystal would stand in as his housekeeper until the work at Seacrest was finished, by which time he was sure he could arrange for a replacement to take over. While Crystal stayed with him Marianne must treat his house as her own, he added, and he would like to think she would come and share her meals with them both.

  Marianne was glancing through colour schemes for the bedrooms, brochures spread out in front of her as she sat cross-legged on the drawing-room carpet, when Crystal finished the call.

  ‘Come and have my meals with you and Andrew? I don’t think that’s practical,’ she prevaricated when Crystal added her support to the suggestion. ‘Maybe the odd evening meal but that’s all. There’s going to be heaps going on here I need to keep my eye on.’

  ‘Exactly, and if you pop to us for lunch and dinner it’s one less thing to think about,’ Crystal stated, as though she were already in residence at the cottage. ‘It’d put my mind at rest if nothing else.’