Velvet Promise

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Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘DANI, I don’t think——’ Willow’s laughing refusal to let her four-year-old daughter sample her wine came to an abrupt halt as she found her gaze drawn and held by the man just entering the dining-room, the hand she had raised to prevent Dani lifting the glass to her mischievously quirked mouth faltering and falling, the colour draining from her finely etched cheeks.

Jordan St James. She had known a member of the family would call on her sooner or later—after all, that was the reason she had informed them of her visit in the first place. But they had only arrived this afternoon from London, and she had expected a little more time to settle in to the hotel and reacquaint herself with Jersey, the largest of the Channel Islands, before having to confront any of Russell’s family. She should have known that the arrogant man rapidly approaching their table wouldn’t wait for her to go to them!

‘Oh, Mummy, it’s—ugh!’ Dani began to choke as the wine she had sipped in that moment of her mother’s preoccupation hit the back of her throat, her pretty face suffused with colour, her eyes beginning to water. ‘Mummy!’ she protested, blinking rapidly as her throat seemed to be on fire.

‘Darling, I asked you not to.’ Willow took the glass out of the tiny hand next to hers as it wobbled precariously, patting her daughter gently on the back as the alcohol took her breath away.

‘What seems to be the trouble?’ enquired the silky voice that Willow recognised all too well.

She only half-turned to acknowledge Jordan’s presence beside their table, just the brief glimpse she had had of him as he entered the room was enough to convince her he was as imposing as ever, the darkness of his hair gleaming ebony in the light given off by the overhead chandeliers. He had been too far away at the time for her to see the brown velvet of his eyes, but she did know their velvety softness was a deception, that this man was capable of verbally ripping a person to shreds while his eyes maintained their brown velvet warmth.

‘She’s all right now,’ Willow dismissed his concern, handing Dani a glass of water to wash away the taste she was now proclaiming as ‘awful’. ‘I did try to warn you, Dani.’ Her voice softened noticeably as she spoke to her daughter, smoothing back the swathe of silky blonde hair from a face that was still flushed.

Dani screwed up her face. ‘Are you feeling ill too, Mummy?’

She gave a puzzled frown. ‘What makes you ask that?’

Her daughter grimaced. ‘Because the wine tastes like medicine!’

Willow held back her smile with effort, although she doubted Jordan St James found the remark as amusing; he rarely seemed to smile, and she had never seen him laugh. ‘I should stick to lemonade until you’re as old as Mummy,’ she advised gravely. ‘Then the wine won’t taste like medicine.’

Now that her choking fit seemed to be over Dani was taking an interest in the tall, dark man who stood beside their table, oblivious to the curious looks he was receiving from the other guests who had chosen to eat in the relaxed elegance of the hotel restaurant. But that was typical of the Jordan she remembered; he had so much arrogant self-confidence she didn’t think he noticed other people’s reaction to him most of the time. The hovering waiters were certainly aware of the prestigious identity of her visitor.

Dani looked up at him with candid green eyes. ‘You look like the photographs of my daddy,’ she stated quizzically.

Willow gave a start of surprise, turning to look fully at Jordan for the first time. Maybe he and Russell were a little alike: both very tall and dark, their facial characteristics slightly similar, although considering their relationship that wasn’t so surprising. But the similarity was only slight; Russell was a much weaker version of Jordan St James visually, not quite as tall, nor as muscular, his face possessing none of the strength of character stamped so markedly on the other man’s, although for sheer fashionable handsomeness most women would probably consider Russell the more attractive of the two, Jordan’s features being ruggedly harsh rather than classically handsome.

Jordan smiled down at Dani, the dark eyes compelling. ‘That’s because he and I are cousins.’

Looking as harshly forbidding as he did, Jordan’s voice should have been harsh too, but it was as velvety as his eyes, possessing a mesmerising quality that sent a shiver down Willow’s spine.

‘Really?’ Dani brightened at this disclosure. ‘Do you know——’

‘Ah, Barbara.’ Willow looked thankfully at the other woman who was now hovering behind Jordan trying to attract her attention. ‘Could you take Dani up to our suite for me now?’

‘Oh, Mummy, do I have to?’ her daughter predictably protested. ‘I’m not a bit tired and I——’

‘Danielle Stewart, you’ve done nothing but yawn since we got down here,’ she cajoled. ‘Now go along with Barbara. And behave yourself—we’re all tired and it’s been a long day.’

‘Do I have to?’ Dani wheedled again.

Her expression softened at her daughters petulant face, a sure sign of tiredness in her usually sunny-faced daughter. ‘You have to,’ she told her firmly. ‘I’ll be up in a few minutes,’ she promised as Dani reluctantly stood up to join Barbara.

She watched her daughter’s progress out of the dining-room, all the time conscious of Jordan’s ominous presence beside her. But as the animatedly talking Dani left the room at Barbara’s side she had no choice but to turn and face him. It wasn’t easy. ‘Won’t you join me?’ She extended a slender hand to the seat opposite her that Dani had just vacated.

He gave an abrupt inclination of his head. ‘She’s very like you,’ he rasped as he folded his long length down into the chair.

‘Yes,’ she acknowledged curtly, sure that the whole of Russell’s family would have preferred it if Dani had looked nothing at all like the outsider who had dared to marry him.

Jordan’s eyes narrowed at her resentment. ‘That wasn’t meant as a criticism.’

‘No?’ she scorned.

‘No. You’re a very beautiful woman,’ he stated in a flat voice.

She knew that he wasn’t trying to be polite or insincere, that Jordan St James only said what he believed to be fact.

When she had first met this man she had been a wide-eyed innocent with flyaway blonde hair and only a gauche charm at best, but the years of being Mrs Russell Stewart had at least enabled her to attain a veneer of sophistication, to wear only the best clothes, to have her hair styled in such a way it wouldn’t dare be flyaway. Yes, over the years she had at least taken on a surface self-confidence; it was only when she was confronted with Russell’s family that it began to crumble and leave her as vulnerably open as she had been at seventeen.

Jordan relaxed back in his chair, waving aside the waiter’s suggestion that he join Willow for coffee; the dark suit he wore was tailored to the raw masculinity of his body, a brown tie knotted neatly at the throat of his cream shirt. The darkness of his hair was lightly sprinkled with grey at his temples on closer inspection, reminding Willow that he had recently entered his thirty-eighth year. Although he had never looked young to her, and Russell had often taunted that Jordan had been born old.

Orphaned at only five years old, Jordan had been taken into the home of his father’s sister, Simone Stewart, and her husband David, and he and Russell had been brought up as brothers. The sibling rivalry Russell felt for his cousin didn’t seem to be echoed by this self-contained man.

‘However,’ he added softly, ‘beautiful women do not always make the best mothers. They have so many other—interests.’ He met her gaze blandly as the force of his insult made her gasp.

From the moment they had first met just over five years ago Willow couldn’t remember one occasion when this man had gone out of his way to be polite to her. He had seemed to take an instant dislike to her, had only tolerated her at all because she was Russell’s wife. But along with her maturity had come the belief that she was as good as—if not better!—than any member of this family, including the haughty man looking at her so coldly.

‘No more so than any other single parent,’ she bit out tautly.

He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘Most single parents don’t have the wealth that you do and yet still choose to go out to work,’ he drawled contemptuously. ‘How is your business?’

Willow felt her temper rising, knew that her eyes must be flashing like emeralds, natural colour highlighting her normally pale cheeks. ‘Business is fine,’ she snapped. ‘And I don’t go out to work at all; I do all my designing at home.’

‘And who takes care of the shops you’ve opened as outlets for your designs?’

She shouldn’t really be surprised that Jordan knew so much about her; Dani might only be a girl, and not the male heir the family had been hoping for, but she was the only grandchild the Stewarts had, and she had been put in Willow’s custody. Even from the distance of Jersey the family would keep an eye on Dani, and, in doing so, a little on Willow too.

‘I only have one in London, another in New York, and the latest one here in Jersey,’ she dismissed tightly. ‘And each of them is run by completely competent managers. If you’re trying to accuse me of being a negligent mother then I think you should try again,’ she challenged with resentment.

He raised dark brows over those velvety soft eyes. ‘You don’t think plying a four-year-old with wine at…’ he glanced at the plain gold watch on his wrist, ‘nine o’clock at night is negligent?’

She hadn’t been plying Dani with anything, but she wasn’t about to defend her action to this man; she no longer had to explain anything to him or any other member of this family. ‘Which bothers you the most, the wine or the lateness of the hour?’ she taunted.

‘Both!’ he grated harshly.

She gave an impatient sigh and picked up her clutch bag. ‘Dani doesn’t exactly look or act like a deprived child.’ She stood up, nodding her thanks to the waiter who had served her her meal, before walking out of the dining-room, tall and slender, the aquamarine of the gown she had designed herself a perfect foil for her straight drop of silver shoulder-length hair, its very simplicity of style giving it a colour and texture that had been lacking when it hung in a straight swathe to her waist. Besides, that other style had given her the look of Alice in Wonderland, and with the birth of her daughter she had become very much a woman.

She had reached the bottom of the elegantly curved staircase before she felt the firm grasp of steady fingers on her wrist. From her advantage of already being two stairs up she turned and found herself on an eye-level with Jordan for the first time, the effect of those warm brown eyes even more devastating. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the first stirrings of feminine interest in a man she had known for a long time. A very long time.

Her initial reaction to that interest was panic, and she pulled her hand out of his grasp as his eyes narrowed at the action. ‘I’ve arranged to take Dani over to see her grandparents tomorrow afternoon,’ she told him forcefully. ‘I really don’t see the reason for your visit here tonight.’ Except to upset her. And he had done that!

He thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers, pulling the material taut across his thighs. ‘I was asked by Simone and David to see if you wouldn’t reconsider staying with them instead of at this hotel,’ he drawled. ‘They only live half a mile away!’

After her divorce from Russell last year Willow had agreed that Simone and David should see their grandchild whenever it was possible for them to do so, and this business trip of hers to Jersey to check on her newest shop had seemed an ideal way for them to do that without causing too much upheaval in Dani’s life. But when she had moved out of the Stewart home three years ago she had vowed to herself never to stay there again. She didn’t intend to break that vow.

‘The hotel is more convenient——’

‘Than a luxury villa where you and Dani could have your own suite of rooms?’ Jordan scorned.

That luxury villa had been her prison for eighteen months, with frequent visits from her goaler! ‘We have our own suite of rooms here, Jordan,’ she dismissed coolly, stepping aside to allow another couple who had just left the dining-room to ascend the stairs.

Jordan looked irritated by even that casual interruption. ‘Let’s go for a walk outside where we can’t be overheard,’ he suggested tersely.

‘I have to go up to Dani,’ she reminded him, shaking her head.

‘Can’t the renowned Miss Gibbons take care of her?’ he taunted. ‘I thought that was what you employed a nanny for!’

Willow’s mouth firmed. ‘Dani will be waiting for me to tuck her in, as I always do.’

He gave a mocking inclination of his head. ‘In that case I’ll get myself a drink from the bar and wait outside for you.’

Willow glanced outside. On this late September night the sky was beautifully moonlit, adorned with a million stars that twinkled and blinked as a warm breeze blew off the sea. It was a night made for lovers to stroll along the golden beaches hand in hand. There had been many evenings like this when she had lived here so briefly, but she had never shared any of them with a lover. And somehow she didn’t think walking on a moonlit beach with bare feet had ever occurred to Jordan!

She nodded coolly. ‘If that’s what you would like to do. I’ll be several minutes,’ she warned. ‘I always read Dani a story last thing at night.’

‘Aren’t you overdoing the devoted mother act?’ Jordan drawled in a bored voice.

‘I am a devoted mother,’ she bit out. ‘Dani and I both look forward to this special time of night.’

‘I’m surprised a busy lady like you can spare the time,’ he derided.

‘Jordan——’

‘I’m sorry,’ he drawled without any real regret. ‘Be as long as you want with Dani; I’m not going anywhere but outside.’

Willow turned and walked away from him, deeply resenting his implication that Dani came anywhere but first in her life. She did work hard, she admitted that, this latest shop of her exclusive designs appealing to both the wealthy residents and visitors on this charming little island and proving more successful than she had ever envisaged. But her career in fashion designing hadn’t succeeded at Dani’s loss; she spent every available moment she could with her daughter. And if Jordan St James had known anything about her other than the black and white reports he obviously received on her he would have known that. But he didn’t really know her, or about the things that had happened in her life to make her a woman of strength and character, a woman who at only twenty-three was one of England’s most successful fashion designers while still managing to be what she loved best of all, an attentive and loving mother to Dani.

‘Feeling better now?’ she asked Barbara after letting herself into the suite.

‘Much,’ the other woman nodded. ‘Jordan St James?’ she sympathised as Willow still looked pale from her encounter with the man.

‘Yes,’ she grimaced, putting her bag down on a table. ‘Dani in bed?’

The other woman nodded; a quiet capable woman of thirty-five, she had helped care for Dani the last three years. ‘She’s tired out,’ she said indulgently, ‘but she’s determined to hear her story.’

Willow smiled at that, knowing from experience that no matter how tired her daughter was she wouldn’t surrender to sleep until she had heard one of her favourite stories, and it was no good trying to cut the story short so that she got to sleep quicker; Dani knew them all word for word! Not that Willow minded; it was a time of day they both treasured, a few minutes of peace and tranquillity after the events of the day.

Dani sat up in bed as soon as Willow entered the bedroom. She was small for her age but the fragility of her appearance was not matched by the exuberant way she approached life, her eyes permanently agleam with mischief.

Willow sat on the side of the bed to hug her, laughing as the small arms clung about her neck, Dani collapsing in a fit of giggles as Willow tickled her to attain freedom. It was a game they played every night, but neither of them ceased to be amused by it.

Dani sobered as she settled back against the pillows. ‘That man downstairs——’

‘Uncle Jordan,’ Willow put in quietly, having no idea if he would welcome or disapprove of the title when he wasn’t really an uncle but a second cousin.

‘Mm,’ her daughter nodded. ‘Did I know him when I was a baby?’

Dani was going through the stage of being fascinated by the fact that she had once been as small as the babies she saw in their prams when they took walks in the park near their home. ‘A little,’ Willow confirmed with a frown. ‘Although I don’t think Uncle Jordan is all that comfortable with little babies.’ She knew she was being kind, that Jordan had barely glanced at Dani until she was a year old and had been able to trample over his feet to get where she wanted to go!

‘He seems to like me now,’ Dani said consideringly. ‘Does he live with Grandma and Grandad?’

Willow shook her head. ‘He has his own villa a short distance away from theirs.’

‘But——’

‘Story-time, young lady,’ Willow put in firmly as Dani’s lids drooped tiredly in spite of her interest in her newly realised uncle. ‘We can talk about Uncle Jordan again tomorrow.’

The expected protest was quickly forthcoming, but Willow soon calmed Dani down as she began to read her favourite story about a rather naughty bear. Unusually for Dani, she fell asleep halfway through the book, and Willow instantly felt a prick of guilt for having to keep her up so late after travelling today too. But Dani had napped at lunchtime before their flight, another unusual occurence for her, and so Willow had allowed the indulgence of the late night. And been soundly criticised for doing so! But criticism from Russell’s family was nothing new.

‘Still think it was a good idea to choose Jersey for your third shop?’ Barbara looked at her concernedly as she returned to the lounge.

She grimaced. When the time came for a third outlet for her designs the natural choice had been Paris, but after careful consideration she had decided it was too obvious, and the feasibility report she had received on Jersey had been much more promising: a lot of wealthy residents, and yet only fourteen miles from France itself. She had decided it was time to bury her ghosts, but she hadn’t realised at the time how difficult that was going to be!

‘I’m a businesswoman,’ she stated firmly. ‘Jersey was the perfect choice.’

‘The Stewarts seem to think so to,’ the other woman drawled pointedly.

Barbara was as much of a friend to her as she was to Dani, had been told from the first of her connection with the wealthy and influential Stewart family. ‘Then I’ll just have to disabuse them of that fact, won’t I?’ Willow said determinedly, once again picking up her bag. She smiled faintly. ‘I don’t have to ask you to listen out for Dani…?’

‘No,’ Barbara smiled; the two women were in perfect accord concerning Dani’s welfare.

Willow paused after stepping from the hotel to watch Jordan unobserved for several moments. Several tables and chairs had been placed in front of the hotel to overlook the bay, but Jordan had forgone the comfort of them to stand by the wall that fronted the hotel, his eyes narrowed as he stared out to sea, ocassionally sipping from the glass he held in his hand, his expression grim. He looked even more forbidding in the moonlight, big and dark, and infinitely powerful.

He slowly began to turn, as if sensing her gaze on him, and Willow instantly moved forward lightly, unwilling to be caught staring at him.

‘Too?’ he prompted abruptly.

She frowned her puzzlement, accepting the dry Martini and lemonade the waitress brought out to her, obviously at Jordan’s request; it was her usual after-dinner drink. She was surprised he had remembered so unimportant a thing.

‘Sorry?’ She prompted an explanation to his question as soon as they were alone again.

‘Dani asked earlier if you were ill too,’ he reminded her grimly. ‘Is she ill?’

Her brow cleared. ‘Barbara had a migraine from the flight,’ she explained. ‘I thought it would be better if Dani and I had dinner downstairs together so that Barbara could sleep it off. It obviously worked.’ Too late she realised she had excused Dani being in the dining-room with her that late at night after all.

Jordan’s mouth twisted as he seemed to sense her resentment at the admission. ‘She’s feeling better now?’ he drawled.

‘Much,’ Willow bit out, her hair gleaming silver in the moonlight. ‘I believe you had some more things you wanted to discuss with me?’ she pressed tautly, wanting this conversation over as soon a possible. And not just because she was tired.

‘The same things,’ he returned harshly. ‘Do you realise the embarrassment you’re causing Simone and David by choosing to stay at a hotel instead of with them at their home?’

Her head went back in challenge, the delicacy of her features clearly etched; wide green eyes, a small uptilting nose, her mouth at odds with those fine features, full and provocatively pouting. ‘Dani may be their granddaughter, but I’m not related to them at all,’ she rasped. ‘And I have no intention of letting Dani go to stay anywhere without me.’

‘You’re their daughter-in-law!’ Jordan’s eyes glittered in the darkness.

‘Ex-daughter-in-law,’ she corrected tautly. ‘I’m sure my staying here at the hotel can’t be any more of an embarrassment to them than actually having me to stay with them! They never approved of me as Russell’s wife and I have no intention of putting Dani or myself through the trauma of being a “guest” in their home!’

‘You never gave them a chance——’

‘They never gave me a chance!’ Her eyes flashed in warning. ‘Who do you think was the more vulnerable, the wealthy Stewarts or the young girl who married their only son?’

‘Simone was upset with the speed with which the wedding took place——’

‘So was I!’ She was so tense, a strong wind could have snapped her in half, her breathing ragged. ‘But little things like pregnancy have a way of showing themselves the longer you wait!’

Jordan’s mouth thinned. ‘You got your wealthy husband, didn’t you?’

Willow stopped breathing at the accusation. Oh yes, she had got herself a wealthy husband, the rich and elusive Russell Stewart, who had decided he wanted her as his wife. But she had been three months pregnant with his child at their hastily arranged marriage in a London register office, and neither Simone Stewart nor any of her equally snobbish friends had ever let her forget the fact.