Wild Entrantress Part 5

Catherine smiled. 'About six months, I think. I'm sorry-I don't remember your name.'

'John--John Dexter.' He grinned in return. 'And you're from England?'

'Yes. London, actually. I'm staying with-the Royals.'

'Yes, we had heard you were coming,' remarked John, nodding.

'Laura told us.'

'Oh.' Catherine fanned herself with one hand. 'Isn't it hot?'

John shook his head. 'Not particularly. You should take a dip in the pool and cool off. That's what I've been doing.'

'I wish I could.' Catherine was serious. 'But I haven't brought a swimsuit.'

'I could lend you one.' Laura had heard the tail-end of their conversation, and chimed in. 'Would you like a swim, Catherine?'

Catherine hesitated. Then; 'Why not?'

Laura smiled. 'Come on, then. I've got a locker in the clubhouse where I keep my things. I'll show you where you can change.'

'I'll be waiting.'

John's casual promise followed them across the lawns and into the club buildings, and Laura chuckled. 'It sounds like you've made a conquest already,' she said. 'But don't take him too seriously, will you? Johnny has quite a reputation.'

'I'll try not to,' murmured Catherine dryly, but Laura missed her sarcasm.

The water in the pool was the warmest Catherine had ever swum in, and with several of the young men competing with John for her attention, it was not difficult to convince herself that she was glad she had come. Laura's navy swimsuit fitted her quite well, and by the time she emerged to watch the compet.i.tion, she felt several degrees cooler.

Unfortunately for Laura, she was knocked out of the tournament in her leg of the semi-finals. However, the girl who beat her went on to win, which a.s.suaged her disappointment somewhat. They drove back to Amaryllis in the cooler air of early evening, but when they reached the house, Catherine left Laura to relate the events of the afternoon to her future husband and his stepmother, while she sought the welcome isolation of her room.

Dinner proved to be a non-event, even though Catherine had spent some time deciding what to wear. Only Elizabeth joined her in the lamp lit dining room, the chandelier having been waived in favour of a less revealing light. When Catherine ventured to ask where Jared was, she was told, rather irritably she felt, that he was out for the evening, dining with his future in-laws. So Laura had got her fiance to herself at last, she thought wryly. With or without Elizabeth's consent?

After the rather eventful day, Catherine slept soundly that night, and awakened much later the next morning. An examination of her watch revealed that it was already after eight o'clock, and she lay for several minutes recalling what she had been doing at this time yesterday morning. As she got out of bed and padded into the bathroom, she wondered if Jared had gone surfing this morning, if he had taken the direct route across the fields which she had denied him the day before.

Showered, she dressed in blue denim jeans rolled back to the knee, and a striped halter top. Underneath, she wore the pants of a green bikini, and she looked forward to lazing in the sun, improving the tan she had begun the day before.

Elizabeth was alone in the morning room, seated at the breakfast table, studying the financial pages of the local newspaper. She managed a cool smile when her guest appeared, surveying her with slightly raised eyebrows. She was wearing jodhpurs again, which Catherine guessed were her usual working attire.

'Good morning,' she remarked casually, as Catherine came to sit at the table. 'You look--very well.'

It was an ambiguous comment, and Catherine realised it was the first time since her arrival that Elizabeth had seen her in anything so revealing. Did the older woman's eyes linger on the bare expanse of her midriff? Had Jared told his step-mother what she had told him, and if so, why didn't she mention it?

'It's another lovely day,' Catherine said now, smiling at Susie, who had come to attend to her needs. 'Oh, just toast and coffee, please.'

'Yes.' Elizabeth folded her newspaper. 'We are lucky with the weather.'

Catherine rested her elbows on the table, cupped her chin on her hands, and smiled her acquiescence with this statement. There were a few moments' awkward silence, and then she persevered gallantly: 'I can hardly believe it's February. Just a few thousand miles and the difference is amazing!'

'Yes.' Elizabeth finished her coffee, and pushed her cup aside.

Then: 'By the way, I'm afraid I shan't be able to show you the stables today. I'd forgotten, it's our dinner party this evening, and I must make an effort to get into Bridgetown later this morning.

I have a hair appointment at three, so do you think you could entertain yourself?'

'Of course.' Catherine would be glad of the opportunity to do so.

'What I mean is. . .' Apparently Elizabeth wasn't happy that everything had been satisfactorily explained. 'You won't-annoy Jared, will you, Catherine? I mean, he does have to work. I know he's not in at the moment-'

'Down at the beach?' Catherine's tone was dry.

'I expect so.' Elizabeth did not approve of her flippancy. 'I have explained that, Catherine.'

'Oh, you have!' Catherine's eyes were wide and innocent. 'And I understand. Don't worry, Mrs Royal. I'll just sit beside the pool and avoid making a nuisance of myself.'

Elizabeth's smile was frosty, but she rose to her feet and adjusted her chair. 'If you'll excuse me, then. . .'

'Of course.' Catherine looked demure. 'Don't work too hard.'

She finished breakfast alone, and then sauntered outside. The pool looked very inviting, but she decided to allow her breakfast to digest before trying it. She had sungla.s.ses in her pocket, so kicking off her sandals, she stretched her length on a lounger.

She had been there perhaps half an hour, and was considering going indoors for her anti-sunburn oil so that she could shed her jeans, when a man came strolling on to the patio. His booted feet sounded hollowly on the stone tiles, and she opened her eyes in surprise to find him standing a few feet away watching her.

Wriggling into an upright position, she took off her dark gla.s.ses, and said politely: 'Can I help you?'

The man grinned. He was a little above average height, stockily built, with greying fair hair, and attractively tanned features. In knee-length boots and riding breeches, a thin cotton shirt open over his broad chest, he looked like an old-style plantation boss, but she had no idea who he could be.

'You would be Miss Fulton, of course,' he remarked, coming nearer, revealing that he walked with a distinct limp. His accent was unmistakable, and Catherine nodded, remembering.

'And you're Mr Donovan,' she countered, swinging her feet to the ground. 'Are you looking for Elizabeth?'

It was strange how easily Elizabeth's name came to her lips when she was not actually speaking to the woman herself.

'That's right,' Patrick Donovan agreed now. Is she about?'

'I realty don't know. Actually, I thought she had gone down to the stables.'

Donovan sighed. 'd.a.m.n! I wanted to ask her whether the buyer we had yesterday was coming back today.'

'Oh, I shouldn't think so.' Catherine rose to her feet, so that she was almost on eye-level terms with him. 'I understand she wants to go into Bridgetown this morning, and she has a hair appointment this afternoon. For a dinner party she's giving this evening.'

'Yes.' Donovan frowned. 'Well, you could be right.' Then he threw off his uncertainty. 'How are you settling down at Amaryllis?'

Catherine shrugged. 'I-it's all right.'

'You're not impressed.'

'I wouldn't say that exactly. But...' She shook her head. 'Have you worked here long?'

'About ten years.'

'So you'll have known-Jared's father?'

'Sure. He employed me in the first place.'

Catherine nodded, fiddling with her gla.s.ses. 'Does-does Jared take after his father?'

'Jared?' Donovan gave her a wry look, and she wondered if she had been indiscreet. 'How do you mean?'

Catherine could feel herself colouring. 'What I mean is-is he a good boss?'

Donovan grinned. 'Do you really expect me to tell you?' Then he laughed. 'The best!'

'Why do you say it like that?'

'Because he never interferes in the business.'

'You don't mind?'

'Why should I? No, Jared's pretty shrewd in money matters, and he expects a fair return for his investment, but on the whole he leaves the running of the stables to me.'

'And-Elizabeth?'

'You ask a lot of questions, don't you?'

Catherine bent her head. 'I'm sorry. But you're the first person I've met since coming here that I've felt able to ask.'

Donovan looked at her sympathetically. 'I'll take that as a compliment,' he teased, and she laughed, relaxing again. 'As a matter of fact, Mrs Royal has a good business head on her shoulders,' he added. 'I leave the financial side of things to her.

She likes paper work, and I'm no clerical a.s.sistant. She does all the buying and selling, and we both attend the bloodstock sales.'

'It sounds interesting.'

'If you like horses,' he conceded, 'and I love them. I was brought up on a farm in Ireland where they bred racehorses, and I've never forgotten the thrill I felt when my father put me up on my first mount. I must have been about three at the time, but it's stuck in my mind, you know what I mean?' He paused. 'Perhaps you'd like to see our own champion. Chartreuse! He won every big race he entered. Including the Kentucky Derby. That was a proud day!' He shook his head reminiscently. 'But now he uses his energies in another direction!'

Catherine guessed what he meant and chuckled, but her amus.e.m.e.nt faded when a harsh voice interrupted them.

'Are you looking for me, Donovan?'

Jared walked on to the patio from the direction of the tennis courts, lean and sensually disturbing in tight-fitting cotton pants that hung low on his hips. That they were damp in places revealed that he had not bothered to dry himself before getting dressed, and Catherine had to make an effort not to stare too openly.

'I was looking for Mrs Royal, sir.' Donovan turned to face his employer. 'But Miss Fulton's just been telling me she's going into town.'

'Has she?' Jared's tawny eyes flicked Catherine with cold arrogance. 'And what have you been telling her?'

Donovan looked nonplussed. 'I don't know what you mean, sir.'

'Don't you?' Jared halted before them, dark and intimidating.

'What is there about my stepmother going to town that's so amusing?'

Donovan shifted uncomfortably and Catherine felt resentment flooding her being. What was wrong with two people talking together? Why shouldn't they?

'Do you monitor all conversations on these premises?' she inquired insolently, and was aware that Donovan did not welcome her intervention.

'I was telling Miss. Fulton about Chartreuse, sir,' he put in quickly, but Jared had turned to his house guest.

'Donovan doesn't have time to stand here chatting to you!' he stated grimly. 'If you're bored, that's not his problem.'

'Nor yours, either, I suppose!' she retorted, but again Jared had transferred his attention.

'If that's all, Donovan?' he prompted authoritatively, and with an apologetic nod, the Irishman walked quickly away.

When he had gone, Catherine flung herself on to the lounger, pushing the dark gla.s.ses on to her nose and deliberately ignoring the man at her side. She stretched out her legs, positioned her arms so that they benefited most from the sun's rays, and forced a look of relaxation which she was far from feeling.

She expected Jared to leave her, not particularly caring what he thought of her right then, but when he spoke she realised she had been a fool to think she could get off so lightly.

'Don't you ever speak to me like that again in front of a member of my staff!' he told her angrily, and although Catherine quivered at the threatening note in his voice, she refused to let him see he had disturbed her.

Opening her eyes, she tilted the gla.s.ses so she could see over them, and said: 'Only when we're alone, is that right?'

Jared pushed his balled fists into the hip pockets of his pants.

'And while we're on the subject, don't interfere in matters between Laura and me!'

Catherine sat up. I presume you mean yesterday. '

'When else?'

'Has Laura been complaining?'

Jared glared at her. 'I'm telling you. Mind your own business!'

Catherine swung her feet to the tiles and stood up once more, unable to stand the disadvantage of remaining seated a moment longer. 'Elizabeth doesn't,' she pointed out pleasantly.

'Elizabeth is my stepmother.'

'And I'm your ward, guardian! Or had you forgotten?'

'It would be impossible, wouldn't it?' he demanded harshly, and her eyes fell before the penetration of his. 'Now, for G.o.d's sake, I've got work to do!'

Catherine lifted her head. 'I'm not stopping you.'

'Aren't you?' His muttered words barely reached her, and the hand that reached out almost savagely and grasped a handful of her hair seemed motivated almost against his will. 'Is this colour real or cultivated?'

Catherine wet her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. 'It's real,'

she managed, suddenly finding herself short of breath.