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‘You asked her about me? You were prying into my life behind my back?’ Her eyes glittered with outrage and she clenched her fists as he returned her angry gaze calmly.
‘There was no real need to pry,’ Louis said with an elegant shrug. ‘Your mother seems very forthcoming. I’ve heard all about your younger sisters and their hectic social lives, and Vivian and her causes, and Rose, who is apparently as close to perfection as any human being could reasonably aspire to be. And your mother just wishes that they would settle down with the right men. And then there’s you—clever, ambitious—and there was no hint that finding the right man was on your mother’s wish-list. Why do you think that was?’
Having watched and listened, Louis had reached certain conclusions, and conclusion number one was that he had been one-hundred percent correct in his assumption that the Sharps were fortune hunters. Everything backed him up, from Mrs Sharp’s obvious delight in her daughter’s so-called match, to Rose herself, who was the picture of gentle innocence, but who was also seemingly lacking in the sort of passion he would have expected to see in a woman in love.
He had made his way over to Lizzy because he had intended on pinning her to the wall. Inexplicably, he now found himself distracted and, even more inexplicably, enjoying his moment of distraction.
‘I don’t see that my private life is any of your business,’ Lizzy muttered, on the back foot and hating him for it.
‘So how come you’re not involved with anyone?’ He swirled his drink and then tossed his head back to finish the wine in his glass. Just in case she got any ideas about going anywhere, he reached out and planted his hand firmly on the wall so that she was locked in.
Lizzy wondered how soon she could escape so that she could strangle her overbearing mother.
‘Repeat—none of your business.’
‘A little tip—men don’t like women who show their claws the way you do.’
‘I show my claws because I happen to loathe you!’
Louis laughed. He wondered if anyone had ever had the audacity to tell him that they loathed him. Nope; he couldn’t think of a single instance.
‘And,’ Lizzy continued, fuming, ‘I don’t ask you about your private life!’
‘Ask on. What do you want to know?’ He straightened, but when he shifted it was only to further block any exit routes.
‘I’m actually not at all interested. And anyway,’ she couldn’t resist adding, ‘I don’t need to ask, because I can guess what sort of private life you have.’
‘Oh? Tell me. I’m all ears.’
‘Lots of women,’ she threw at him. ‘Glamour models and airheads who smile sweetly and do whatever you ask them to do. You have so much money that you can pick and choose, and rich men only ever pick stunning women. But my guess is that, when and if you ever do decide to tie the knot, it’ll be with someone from your own class. That’s why you don’t like the thought of Nicholas with my sister. He comes from lots of money and therefore he should stick to his own kind.’
‘You’re flirting dangerously with my boundaries. And my patience.’
‘You have been flirting dangerously with mine as well.’ She looked at him and something wild and dangerous shifted inside her. Just as quickly she glanced away, but her pulses were racing and her heart was thumping so hard that she felt as though she might faint.
Behind him, she could hear the first strains of music as the small jazz band—two members of which she had gone to school with—began tuning their instruments.
‘Care to dance?’
‘You’re kidding!’
Louis laughed again. He had intended to be brutal on this fact-finding mission, but he found that he was enjoying the way she scratched and bristled. It was novel. She had been dead-on target when she had said that the women he dated were beautiful airheads. Airheads didn’t interrupt his work life, and his work life ate up a considerable amount of his time. She had also been dead on target when she had said that the woman he eventually chose would be someone of equal standing—no one who could possibly be interested in his vast wealth, which would mean that her connections would have to be similarly impeccable; no argument there. Neither type of woman would resemble the one currently nursing her empty wine glass and glaring up at him. A girl who got her kicks riding motorcycles and whose mother despaired of her settling down. Even in her finery, she still managed to have a slightly untamed air about her.
‘Don’t you dance?’ he asked.
‘I choose my dance partners with discretion.’
Louis made a show of looking around him. ‘And anyone here take your fancy? Or do you go back too far with all of them? My guess is that familiarity can breed contempt in a place as small as this. Is that the reason you legged it down to London while your sisters stayed up here?’
‘Rose is the only one who lives here. Leigh and Maisie are at university and Vivian is abroad.’
‘Doing good works. Like I said, I already have the potted family history.’
‘Isn’t there anything my mother didn’t tell you? Couldn’t you just have chatted to her about the weather, like any normal person would have?’ Lizzy blurted out in frustration and Louis grinned.
It was such a breathtaking ceasefire after hostilities that she felt her breath get trapped somewhere in her throat. The man was beyond good-looking, she thought in confusion. He was wickedly, sinfully devastating.
‘I should mingle.’ Her voice emerged a little unsteady and she cleared her throat. ‘People are going to start wondering why we’re closeted here on our own.’
‘We’re in full view of one and all. I doubt even the most imaginative could jump to any wrong conclusions.’
Which had the effect of immediately making her think of exactly what ‘wrong conclusions’ anyone might have in mind: which wasn’t a comfortable thought.
‘I can see Rose looking for me,’ she mumbled, which wasn’t a complete lie. ‘And besides …’ She sidled to one side and was relieved when he stood back, clearing a space for her, obviously as glad to see the back of her as she was to see the back of him.
‘Besides … what?’ His keen eyes took in the heightened colour in her cheeks and the stray strands of her chestnut-brown hair that were already disobeying orders and tangling about her face; she impatiently tucked them behind her ears.
‘Besides.’ Lizzy shot him a look from under her lashes. ‘Nicholas’s sister is beginning to get a little impatient. She’s been glowering in this direction for the past fifteen minutes. I think she’s waiting for you to wind up this conversation so that you can go and pay her some attention.’ The leggy blonde had not moved from where she had been standing an hour before. Maybe she was just too deadly bored to move.
Louis frowned and glanced around him.
‘I think,’ she continued tartly, ‘she looks a little jealous that you’ve been cooped up here with me. Are you and she an item?’ Lizzy looked at Louis with an innocent, wide-eyed expression and wondered if she dared risk asking him how he liked the limelight being pointed in his direction. Judging from the shadow of intense discomfort that crossed his face, not a lot.
‘You can’t tell me that it’s none of my business,’ she tacked on swiftly before he could reply. ‘You’ve spent all evening nosing into my private life, and it’s only fair that I get the chance to do the same. So … are the two of you involved? Is that why she’s here—to keep an eye on you?’
This was definitely well into the arena of overstepped boundaries. Louis didn’t encourage any sort of intrusion into his private life by anyone, but where was his automatic response to slam shut the door in her face? ‘If you’re asking me whether I’m currently involved with someone, then the answer is no, although I’m at a loss to understand why you’d be interested in the first place.’
‘I wasn’t asking you if you were going out with someone! I was just pointing out that—’
‘I had no idea that Jessica would be here. Or her sister Eloise, for that matter.’
‘Well, they obviously share your low opinion of all of us.’ Lizzy had now backed away to a safe distance and she felt some of her courage and fighting spirit being restored. ‘Because they couldn’t even be bothered to dress appropriately.’ Her face was expressive of distaste.
Louis didn’t say anything. The presence of Jessica at Crossfeld House was unfortunate. Over the past two years, she had been increasingly overt in her flirtations with him, despite his resounding lack of encouragement. And now he was forced to admit to a certain level of disgust at their blatant scorn for their surroundings. Louis didn’t consider himself a snob. He was rich, he was careful and he was wary of gold-diggers. But Jessica and Eloise belonged to that category of spoiled rich kids who thought it was acceptable to sneer at people they considered lower down the pecking order. He had no time for them and even Nicholas, loyal brother that he was, privately despaired of their airs and graces.
‘I quite agree,’ he found himself saying, and she looked at him in surprise. ‘It’s rude, it’s contemptuous and it’s inexcusable.’
‘You agree with me?’
‘Why the shock? I’m a big guy. Maybe the box you’re trying to cram me into is the wrong shape?’
‘I don’t think so!’ Lizzy said tartly. She belatedly remembered some of the things he had said about her family. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me …’
Food was about to be served and the voices had grown louder and heartier as alcohol began to have its loosening effect. She would have to go and stand guard by her mother’s side. Her father would be drinking with his friends, and heaven only knew what other titbits of information her mother would come out with if she had more than a glass or two of wine.
After the enforced intimacy away from the crowd, every fibre of her body focused on Louis, Lizzy was forcibly struck by just how many people had made the effort to get to the bash. There were people from all walks of life; a lot she recognised, some she didn’t.
Lizzy spotted Rose standing to one side, nervously sipping from her wine glass, trying to make some headway with Eloise, who was certainly the less obnoxious-looking of the sisters. Jessica had already been cornered by Louis and was talking and gesticulating to him, her beautiful mouth pursed into lines of sulky displeasure. She was being reprimanded! Lizzy realised with surprise. Louis’s face was tight and disapproving and it was obvious that, wherever his loyalties lay, he had no qualms about putting Jessica firmly and soundly in her place. Lizzy had been happy to dismiss him as a narrow-minded snob, so how did that fit in with the convenient image?
With a little start of discomfort, she realised that she was watching the antics of Nicholas’s sisters with just the same attitude of a scientist watching bacteria on a Petri dish—which she had earlier accused Louis of doing with her own family. So she spent the next couple of hours making a determined effort to talk and chat and absolutely avoid glancing in the direction of either Louis, Jessica or Eloise, or even Nicholas and her sister, for that matter.
It was after midnight when the place started thinning out. Adrian, her father, was beginning to look the worse for wear, and of her mother there was nothing to be seen.
‘Where’s Mum?’ Lizzy weaved her way through the remaining clumps of people to tug her father away from his cronies.
‘She left half an hour ago, with Rose and Nicholas. Apparently your Louis chap has acquired himself a driver and a proper car, or so he said, and he took Nicholas’s sisters back to Crossfeld House.’ Her father, angular and dark as she was—although taller and with less of a forceful appearance—cleared his throat and refused to meet her eye.
‘Why? And he’s not my Louis.’
‘What did you think of the evening?’
‘No good, Dad. Why did Mum leave early?’
‘She wanted to help Rose pack an overnight bag.’
‘For what? Why?’
‘Rose is going to be spending the night at Crossfeld House. Ahem, your sisters have insisted on bringing home some of their friends, and there just wouldn’t have been room in the car for all of us, and the house … Well, Rose volunteered her bedroom, and you know Maisie and Leigh …’
‘I’m not following any of this. You mean you and Mum don’t mind Rose being together with Nicholas at Crossfeld?’
‘Times have moved on, Busy Lizzy, and you know Rose is a big girl now …’
‘You weren’t that liberal minded when Maisie brought home that boy from university last summer,’ Lizzy reminded him sharply as her brain began whirring into action. It was unfair to try and pin her father down; she knew that. What her mother said tended to go, but she couldn’t help herself. ‘Tommy wasn’t exactly suitable material, though, was he?’ she speculated aloud. ‘What with all those tattoos and the pony tail and the Student Union protests. But Nicholas … Mum wants Rose to go to Crossfeld House because she doesn’t want Nicholas to have any kind of chance of getting away or of his sisters influencing him.’
‘It’s not that clear cut, poppet.’
Lizzy thought that it was a good job that Rose actually loved the guy. Would her mother have tried to railroad her into the relationship even if she hadn’t? Would Rose have gone along with it because she was, essentially, so docile by nature?
She was struck by another thought. Shy, sweet-natured Rose was not the flamboyant or demonstrative type. Had it been Maisie or Leigh, the whole world would have known how they felt, and they would cheerfully have taken out a centre spread in the local newspaper to inform the few who didn’t. But Rose was different. Did her mother want to push her daughter into cementing the relationship just in case Nicholas misinterpreted her shyness for indifference and walked away? Was a suitable match so important to them?
Her head was aching by the time Maisie, Leigh and their assorted friends were rounded up. And embedded in that hornet’s nest was the spectre of Louis, watching, observing, speculating, assuming the worst.
Outside, a light dusting of snow had begun to fall. There was always an urgency to the weather in Scotland. What started as a dusting of snow could quickly escalate into a blizzard, and the prospect of that reduced even her high-spirited and very, very tipsy sisters and their friends to focus on gathering their belongings and getting home. Weary and confused, she decided that she would think about everything in the morning.
But the following morning she awoke to find that that tentative promise of a deterioration in the weather had indeed turned into a full-scale war of nature. The falling snow was thick and fast, and the sky was so dark that anyone would be excused for thinking that night had descended a few hours ahead of schedule.
Her father had made himself useful by clearing some of the mounting snow outside the house. Whilst the wind was so far making a nonsense of the snow stockpiling, it wouldn’t be long before the countryside would be knee-deep in the white stuff.
Many a joyous day had been spent revelling in the vagaries of nature when she had been a kid. Heavy snow had usually meant days off school. Now, however, her heart sank. She could think of nothing else but Rose stuck at Crossfeld House, at the mercy of Nicholas’s sisters and Louis, who would be circling her like a shark on the lookout for fresh blood.
By three o’clock, she was going stir crazy, and with the impetuousness that was part and parcel of her nature she announced to her parents that she had decided to go out for a quick spin on her bike.
‘Just up to Crossfeld House,’ she continued, backing away nervously from their duly horrified expressions. ‘My bike’s got fantastic wheels and I’ve ridden in conditions like these in the past.’ More or less. ‘I think Rose feels out of her depth.’ A note of accusation crept into her voice, and she noted the shifty way her parents exchanged glances between themselves. But it was the tipping point, because her mother nodded wearily and then offered to prepare her a packed lunch.
‘And don’t forget your mobile phone.’ Grace shouted up to her for the eighth time as Lizzy kitted herself out in suitable gear for the bike ride.
As if! But at least now she was doing something instead of sitting around, listening to her sisters and their friends play their music too loud, and spread themselves throughout the house with the easy indolence of nineteen-and twenty-year-olds who hadn’t yet taken on any of life’s little responsibilities.
It was bitter outside and the forecasters were warning of plummeting temperatures.
Lizzy revved the engine of her motorbike and felt that familiar thrill as it roared into life. She swung it out of the garage and down the short drive to the main road.
Three years ago, she had had special tyres put on that could better cope with snowy conditions, and she was now grateful for that window of foresight because conditions were truly terrible.
The trip to Crossfeld House on a clear, sunny day was a circuitous one of winding roads. Snow made the trip slower and much more difficult.
But it was only when the fall of snow began making it difficult for her to see that Lizzy eventually acknowledged that she might be in a spot of bother.
Ahead of her, the tiny pinpoints of lights from Crossfeld House at least indicated that she hadn’t been totally disoriented by the blanket of snow. But those small dots of light were also a reminder that her marvellous wheels weren’t quite so marvellous after all. And there was no way that she could walk the motorbike to Crossfeld; it was too big and too unwieldy.
Also, after nearly an hour of slow riding, the cold was beginning to worm its way through and under her layers of clothes, finding her tender skin and sinking its teeth in. Another hour and she would be putting her life at risk.
She pulled out the packed lunch which she had laughed at her mother for providing and gratefully bit into a cheese and pickle sandwich, washing it down with some coffee which had likewise been provided for her, despite her protests.
Then, with a sigh of defeat, she pulled out her mobile phone and dialled through to her sister.
CHAPTER THREE
LIZZY watched the headlights of the Range Rover draw closer, searching her out. This wasn’t the tired old four-by-four which had been left by the side of the road. This was a shiny black monster and not much fancy guesswork was needed to figure out who was behind the steering wheel.
‘You mustn’t try and walk here!’ Rose had exclaimed in horror when Lizzy had explained the situation to her on the phone. ‘You’ll collapse!’
‘I’m not some kind of pathetic Victorian maiden,’ Lizzy had been quick to point out, whilst acknowledging that her sister was right. There was no way she could walk to Crossfeld with the snow coming down in barrels and she was too far from her own house to risk turning back.
‘I’m sure Louis wouldn’t mind. He had a new car delivered; it would take him no time at all. Will you be okay waiting?’
‘I could probably give it another try,’ Lizzy had ventured optimistically, but the suggestion had fallen on deaf ears. Now as she waved to the car, making her presence known, she almost wished that she had pressed a bit harder.
‘Are you completely mad?’ Louis swung his long body out of the car, fighting against the brisk wind. ‘What the hell possessed you to pull a stunt like this? Get in the car!’
Lizzy gritted her teeth together. Unlike the last time, when he had been on the receiving end of her help, he was dressed for the weather now. Thick jeans were tucked into black, fur-lined wellies and under the padded waterproof jacket she suspected that there were several layers of clothes. He was a fast learner.
‘I can’t leave my bike.’ She folded her arms and stood her ground.
‘And that would be because …?’
‘It’ll be ruined.’
‘Tough. You should have thought of that before you decided to come haring out to Crossfeld House to rescue your sister. Who, by the way, doesn’t need rescuing.’ He flung open the passenger door. ‘I’m giving you to the count of three, and if you’re not in you can bed down here for the night.’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’
‘If I were you, I wouldn’t put that to the test. I was called out from an important conference call to rescue the damsel in distress. I’m not in the prettiest of moods.’
Lizzy climbed into the car. She should, of course, thank him for coming out to rescue her, but gratitude stuck in her throat; she stared ahead in stony silence.
‘I’m sorry to have interrupted your conference call,’ she eventually managed through stiff lips.
‘You’re a lunatic.’
‘It’s not the first time I’ve ridden my motorbike in snow.’
Louis glanced across at her. She was soaking wet, except for her hair, which she had managed to shove underneath the helmet. Not even the leather jacket, the boots and the scarf had protected her against the onslaught of the weather.
‘I’m amazed your parents let you out of the house,’ he gritted.
‘I’m twenty-three. They couldn’t very well stop me.’
‘Which, of course, gives you the right to drive them out of their minds with worry?’
‘Oh, please! I didn’t think you cared about my parents or the state of their minds.’ She shot him a sideways glare.
‘You’re headstrong. You’re opinionated. You’re arrogant.
And you shoot your mouth off without bothering to stop and think first. Little wonder that your mother’s given up on your chances of marriage.’
Lizzy thought she would explode. She could feel herself beginning to hyperventilate with rage and she breathed in deeply, counting to ten.
‘You’re entitled to your opinions,’ she said in a controlled voice. A brief silence pooled around them. ‘I may be a little headstrong, and a little opinionated, but I certainly am not arrogant.’
‘You were arrogant to think that your sister couldn’t survive a night at Crossfeld without you storming in to her rescue.’
Lizzy squashed the surge of discomfort his remark provoked. Of course she hadn’t been arrogant in thinking that she would be doing Rose a favour by showing up at Crossfeld to give her moral support; that was what sisters were all about. But she didn’t ask you, a little voice whispered in her head. If she had wanted your support, wouldn’t she have asked for it?
‘Rose isn’t like me,’ Lizzy muttered. ‘She isn’t well equipped when it comes to looking out for herself. She gets upset easily and she never, ever fights back.’
‘So you thought you’d jump on your motorbike and get to Crossfeld so that you could do her fighting for her.’
‘What’s wrong with looking out for the people you care about?’
‘Nothing, but sometimes the people you care about are perfectly capable of looking out for themselves because they’ve moved on without you even realising it.’
‘If you’re telling me that Rose doesn’t need me to look out for her then maybe you should see that Nicholas doesn’t need you to look out for him.’
‘You’re right. Maybe he doesn’t.’
He glanced sideways at her and her heart lurched as their eyes met in the silvery darkness.
‘What are you saying?’ Her heart was still in stop-start mode and her voice was high and breathless. ‘That you accept Rose and Nicholas as an item?’
‘I’m saying that I can’t picture you being a teacher.’ Louis moved the conversation swiftly along. What had he been saying—that he might be in the process of having a re-think because the bristly, outspoken woman next to him had managed to make him think outside the very tidy little box over which he had always had complete control? His mouth tightened in automatic rejection of that idea.
‘Really. I mean, how do you cope with rebellious pupils without exploding? And I can’t picture you wearing a suit to work.’