Hunter's Moon & Bedded for Revenge
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Carole Mortimer
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CHAPTER ONE
‘MUMMY…’
‘Yes, darling?’
‘Mummy, why is Uncle Jonas going to give Aunt Joy away? Don’t we want her any more?’
‘Out of the mouths of babes and innocents…’ Cassandra had found her younger sister Joy a trial to be borne for longer than she cared to think about, but actually giving her away hadn’t, she admitted ruefully, actually occurred to her!
But that wasn’t quite, she realised as she slowly put her pencil down on the desk, abandoning the design she had been working on—for the moment—what her young daughter meant now either!
Bethany had been to her grandmother’s for tea, and from this conversation Cassandra could see that the little girl had been indulging in one of her favourite pastimes—that of making herself as inconspicuous as possible while an adult conversation was taking place, and in so doing listening in on something that really was none of her business! It was the fault of the adults in question really, for forgetting Bethany was there, but nevertheless Cassandra usually gave her young daughter—a little over four years of age, and already precocious beyond belief, if equally adorable!—a sharp rebuke for the well-remembered, if less understood eavesdropping.
But this time, Cassandra had to admit, she was too interested in what Bethany had overheard to even think of the rebuke…
They were in the sitting-room that Cassandra also used as an office, part of the room given over to her drawing-board, the other kept as a cosy place for Bethany to join her and watch television or play with her toys if she wanted to. Tonight Bethany had the television on, sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of it, but her attention wasn’t on the hectic cartoon now showing, her elbows resting on her knees, her chin resting in her hands as she looked up at Cassandra, golden-brown eyes grave with puzzlement, long black hair kept tidily in plaits for school as they reached almost down to her tiny waist, still in this style, although Bethany had changed out of her school uniform when she returned from her grandmother’s a little over an hour ago.
There was no doubting the relationship between mother and daughter, their colouring identical, Cassandra’s midnight-black hair almost as long as her daughter’s. But Bethany still maintained that childish chubbiness to her face that gave her such an endearing prettiness, whereas Cassandra was tall and reed-thin, with shadowed hollows to her cheeks and angled jaw, her beauty more hauntingly ethereal than glowingly lovely.
She smiled down at her daughter now, although inside she had stiffened defensively the moment Jonas’s name was mentioned. ‘Of course we want her, darling,’ she dismissed lightly. ‘What makes you think that we don’t?’
Bethany screwed her face up expressively as she tried to remember exactly what she had overheard earlier this evening. ‘Grandma said—’ She broke off awkwardly, wincing guiltily at Cassandra for having given herself away in this way.
‘It’s all right, Bethany,’ she smiled indulgently, too intrigued to issue any form of reprimand, even though she knew Bethany was expecting it. ‘What did Grandma say…?’
‘Well…’ Bethany sat forward, her eyes glowing excitedly at this unexpected treat of actually being invited to relate gossip. ‘While I was having tea with Grandma today she and Aunt Joy were talking and Grandma said…’ She finally had to pause for breath. ‘She said that dinner tonight was the perfect time for Aunt Joy to ask Uncle Jonas to give her away!’ Bethany looked puzzled once again.
And Cassandra’s heart sank as her worst fears were confirmed; she realised her sister Joy was going to ask Jonas to take their father’s place at the Easter wedding she and her fiancé were planning. She was also filled with outrage, as her mother must know she would be—which was obviously why she hadn’t been invited to dinner this evening too!—at the very idea of Jonas stepping into her father’s shoes in any way.
‘Has Grandma decided she doesn’t want Aunt Joy any more?’ Bethany persisted. ‘Is that why Uncle Jonas is going to give her away?’
As far as Cassandra was concerned, she felt like giving the whole Kyle family away at this moment in time! This was obviously her mother’s idea, to try and bring Jonas in as a member of the family rather than the business associate he would obviously prefer to be. And which Cassandra herself would prefer him to be too! She didn’t doubt that her mother was also trying to heal the rift that had been between the two of them almost from the moment they met nine months ago after the death of Cassandra’s husband—and Jonas’s brother—Charles.
Cassandra could have told her mother to save herself the bother of even trying, if her mother had consulted her; the differences between Jonas and herself were irretrievable. But she understood exactly why her mother was trying to manoeuvre the situation; it would hardly be the done thing for the matron of honour and the man giving the bride away to launch into one of their verbal battles in the middle of the wedding planned for four months’ time!
‘Why are you smiling, Mummy?’ Bethany had deserted the television completely now, having crossed the room to stand in front of Cassandra, one star-fish-shaped hand resting on one of her mother’s denim-clad knees. ‘It isn’t funny… is it?’
Cassandra was smiling, with irony, an emotion Bethany was too young to appreciate just yet, because if she didn’t smile she would cry! Her mother had arranged this so well, Christmas being exactly two weeks away, the last possible time of year for Cassandra to even think of creating difficulties between herself and the rest of her family, not for her own sake but for Bethany’s. At almost any other time Cassandra wouldn’t have hesitated about ringing her mother to tell her exactly what she thought of the idea of Jonas giving Joy away at the Easter wedding, and withdrawing as matron of honour if he was asked. But two weeks before Christmas, when she so wanted everything to go as smoothly as possible for Bethany during this, her first Christmas since Charles had died, was not the time to create such awkwardness with the rest of the family.
It was very unfair of her mother, and Joy, who also knew exactly how she felt, to even be thinking of asking Jonas such a thing. Especially now. And while Cassandra appreciated that she couldn’t make a scene over this now she could at least try to get her mother to delay asking Jonas until after the holiday period. Although, knowing her mother, she would realise exactly why Cassandra wanted her to delay, and go ahead and ask him anyway!
Her only consolation—if it could be called that!—was that she knew Jonas would hate being asked almost as much as she resented it! But he couldn’t possibly hate it as much!
She deliberately turned her attention back to her beloved daughter now, for whom she would do anything—even grit her teeth and suffer through Jonas’s visits here, which she did regularly, as he and Bethany had formed a bond as strong as the rift between him and Cassandra!—smiling down at her warmly. ‘No, darling, it isn’t funny,’ she acknowledged ruefully, smoothing back the black fringe that framed the cherubic beauty of her daughter’s face.
God, how Cassandra wished she had someone she could turn to now, someone to tell her what was the right thing to do in the tangled mess everything had become. This last ten months of being on her own with Bethany hadn’t been the easiest of times for her, and some of the decisions she had made had turned out disastrously, both personally and professionally. Sometimes she just longed for someone to give her a hug, or her arm a squeeze, as they told her she was doing all right—even if she knew the latter wasn’t strictly true. And there was no one—her mother and Joy were her only family now, and after her mother’s initial invitation for both her and Bethany to move in with them, an invitation Cassandra had had to refuse, and which, she knew, her mother had taken as rejection, her sister and mother, apart from the occasional invitation for Bethany to join them for tea after school or an outing at the weekends, had become wrapped up in their own lives once again, rarely seeming to give a thought to Cassandra, Bethany’s mother, widowed at only twenty-four. Perhaps that was her own fault; maybe she could have handled her refusal of her mother’s offer in a different way, but neverthe less—
God, she was starting to sound self-pitying now, she realised with a defensive straightening of her spine, and that would never do—even if her world did seem to be crashing down about her ears. And she didn’t doubt that at the first sign of vulnerability on her part Jonas would attack, as he had in the past, with all the razor-sharp ferocity of which he was capable!
She could still recall—with complete clarity—the first time she had met Jonas; it had also been the first occasion he had made her aware of just how contemptuous he was of her. There had been many occasions since, but that one stood out in her mind for its sheer cruelty!
Jonas hadn’t returned to England for Charles’s funeral, having lived in America for the last twelve years, and claiming on his return that he hadn’t been informed in time to attend the service, and so had seen no reason to come to England after the event. Except that a month after Charles’s death the solicitors had called the family together to read the will, and Jonas’s presence had been requested for that. It was noticeable that he made the effort to come back to England on that occasion!
Cassandra had still been numb from the shock of Charles’s death and the consequences that had followed, had barely been aware of the fact when Charles’s solicitor told her they had written to Jonas asking for him to be present. That numbness had fled with a vengeance when Jonas was shown into her lounge that day, Mr Harcourt believing this would be the best place for the reading of the will.
She had been alone in the room, none of the rest of the family having arrived yet, standing up slowly to greet the half-brother Charles had never had the chance to introduce her to. His appearance alone had come as something of a shock to her; she had expected him to look like Charles, she supposed, had even been guarding herself for the meeting, and instead she had found herself looking at a harshly dark man who bore no resemblance to Charles whatsoever.
Charles had been tall, blond-haired and blue-eyed, charming to both young and old in his desire to be liked. Apart from his equally impressive height, Jonas was the exact opposite of his half-brother: skin tanned darkly teak, saturnine almost, his hair as black as a moonless night, eyes equally black, lines of cynical hardness etched beside his nose and unsmiling mouth, giving him the appearance of being older than the thirty-five Cassandra knew him to be.
That hard black gaze had raked over her disparagingly as he took in the black sheath of a dress she wore, the starkness of the colour giving her pale skin a slightly sallow appearance. ‘The grieving widow, I presume?’ he drawled tauntingly once the door had closed behind the housekeeper as she left after showing him in.
Cassandra gasped at the insulting tone. She didn’t even know this man, had no—But perhaps she had misunderstood him; this was an awkward occasion, especially as the two of them had never met before.
She met his gaze steadily, looking gaunt with her hair secured back at her nape, even the light make-up she had applied that morning doing little to add colour to the hollowness of her cheeks. ‘Yes, I’m Cassandra,’ she confirmed huskily, holding out her hand in greeting. ‘I’m sorry we had to meet in these circumstances,’ she added politely, still waiting for him to take her hand.
‘I doubt we would have met at all if it hadn’t been “these circumstances”,’ he dismissed impatiently. ‘Do you have any idea why I’ve been asked to attend this reading?’ He looked at her with narrowed eyes, still ignoring her outstretched hand.
Cassandra let her arm fall back to her side, shaking her head slightly, looking at him frowningly. ‘I’m afraid I don’t,’ she dismissed with a shrug. ‘I presume it’s because you’ve been named in the will—’
‘Credit me with enough intelligence to know that, woman,’ he cut in impatiently. ‘I just wondered why the solicitors felt it necessary to bring me all the way over from the States for the damned thing, why they couldn’t have just informed me by mail!’
‘I believe it’s usual to have everyone named in the will present at these things, if possible.’ Cassandra was frowning with the effort of trying to deal with this man’s aggression; it was the last thing she felt capable of coping with on top of everything else!
‘I’m a busy man, Cassandra,’ he snapped harshly.
‘I’m sure that if you had explained—’
‘Oh, I did,’ he said in a tone that implied he had done much more than that! ‘But I was told it was imperative that I be here.’
For the first time since Charles had died Cassandra felt an emotion other than that crippling numbness; she felt the beginnings of unease. ‘They gave you no indication why…?’
‘None at all.’ His mouth twisted disgustedly. ‘Although I believe we are about to find out…’ he added softly as the door opened again to admit the solicitor, quickly followed by Cassandra’s family.
And find out they did! Cassandra’s numbness receded completely as the will was read, to be replaced by shock and disbelief. She couldn’t believe what Charles had done!
Her mother seemed as stunned, and had to be almost physically helped from the house by Joy as the two women left almost immediately after the reading of the will. Which left Cassandra, once the solicitor had left, alone again with Jonas Hunter. And she knew even less what to say to him now than she had before!
Although she needn’t have worried; he seemed more than capable of talking for the pair of them!
‘Well, that must have come as something of a shock to you,’ he drawled knowingly. ‘Me too,’ he murmured almost to himself, frowning, his attention suddenly returning to Cassandra with narrow-eyed assessment. ‘I’m sure you must have thought you would automatically inherit Charles’s share of Hunter and Kyle after his death?’
She had thought no such thing, as it happened, had believed Bethany would be his sole heir, those shares put in trust for her, under Cassandra’s guidance, until she was twenty-one. It was what she and Charles had always discussed. Why had he chosen to change his mind, especially without telling her? She hadn’t wanted any of Charles’s shares for herself; she already had the ten per cent left to her by her father only two months before Charles had died, a fact he had been very aware of.
But for Charles to have divided his thirty-five per cent of the company shares, ten per cent put in trust for Bethany, and the other twenty-five per cent to Jonas Hunter—! She still couldn’t take it in!
Charles hadn’t even spoken to Jonas for years, had made no further effort to contact his younger brother after the other man had refused their wedding invitation—well, he hadn’t exactly refused it; he had just ignored it completely! Charles had certainly given her no indication whatsoever that he intended, effectively, making Jonas the holder of the single most shares in Hunter and Kyle. Even though Cassandra had the voting right over Bethany’s ten per cent that still only gave her twenty per cent to Jonas’s twenty-five.
Her father and Charles had had an equal thirty-five per cent of the shares of the company they had formed together, putting the other thirty per cent on the open market, confident that either of them had the majority over the market, and together they had no fears of any take-over bids.
But the death of Cassandra’s father last New Year had divided his shares, giving Marguerite a fifteen per cent share, and Joy and Cassandra ten per cent each. Charles’s death had now divided those family shares up even more, and in a way that had been totally unexpected, Cassandra readily admitted. Although Charles had to have known what he was doing. At least, she hoped he had!
She shrugged dismissively, determined this man shouldn’t see just how shaken she was by Charles’s will. ‘They were Charles’s shares; he was free to do what he wanted with them.’
‘Because you already have what you wanted from your marriage to him?’ Jonas said accusingly.
Her eyes widened. ‘I married Charles because I loved him—’
‘Oh, come on, Cassandra.’ Jonas’s mouth twisted scornfully. ‘Charles was twenty-five years older than you—’
‘Twenty-three,’ she defended, bright spots of colour now highlighting her cheeks. ‘But that made no difference to how I felt about him—’
‘I’ll just bet it didn’t.’ He shook his head disgustedly. ‘He was Charles Hunter, your father’s business partner, could have been forty years older than you—and you would still have been willing to marry him!’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about!’ she gasped at his insulting tone.
‘Don’t I?’ he said softly, his eyes narrowed. ‘But I know more about my famous sister-in-law than you perhaps realise,’ he told her dismissively. ‘Cassandra Kyle, the designer of exclusive clothes for the woman with plenty of money! And you owe it all to Charles,’ he scorned.
Charles had been responsible for helping her open her first boutique in London, she admitted that, knew that without his help she would probably have remained an unknown for a lot more years than she had. And considering the way her business was now, the state of the economy meaning that those women with plenty of money were a lot less well off than they used to be, perhaps it might have been better if she had remained unknown! But that seemed to be something Jonas Hunter didn’t know! She wondered for how long…
‘Poor Charles,’ Jonas drawled. ‘I could almost feel sorry for the poor besotted fool he must have become! Admittedly you’re beautiful enough, but I credited my self-centred brother with more sense than to go for that older-man-falling-for-younger-woman trick.’ He shook his head scathingly. ‘Hunter became the hunted,’ he added softly, the slow deliberation with which he delivered the words giving them the full insult he intended them to have.
Cassandra paled. ‘Get out,’ she told him shakily. ‘Get out of my home!’ She was trembling so badly that she felt as if she might collapse. And she refused to do that in front of this hateful man!
‘Oh, I’m going, Cassandra,’ he assured her drily. ‘In fact, I’m going back to the States for a while to sort things out over there. But I’ll be back,’ he told her softly. ‘I’ll be back…’ It was a threat as well as a promise!
And two months later he had been, taking over as head of Hunter and Kyle. And Cassandra hated seeing him there, hated him for the way he never lost an opportunity during the following months to torment her anew with those accusations…
* * *
Bethany still looked slightly confused even once Cassandra had explained the formality of Joy’s future wedding to her, the necessity for Joy to be ‘given away’ by a member of her family if possible, a close friend if not; Cassandra wasn’t sure which category Jonas came under! And Bethany was easily distracted from the subject altogether once Cassandra had mentioned something she did understand: bathtime!
As far as Bethany was concerned, the huge oval jacuzzi in her parents’ bathroom had been put there solely for her to romp around in, the bubbles created from the surging foam and the scented liquid Cassandra had been persuaded to put in soon up to her small pointed chin as she played games with their rainbow brightness.
As her young daughter played with squealing delight, Cassandra stood in the adjoining bedroom looking through her wardrobe for something to wear when she visited her mother that evening, because even though she wasn’t going to join them for dinner—she already had a dinner engagement—she wasn’t prepared to let Marguerite get away with this as easily as all that, and intended calling at her mother’s house on her way out. And if Jonas should arrive while she was talking to her mother he would no doubt look at her with his usual criticism—hence her frowning attention on what to wear. If she chose something that would flatter her slender darkness then Jonas would treat her scornfully, and if she chose something demure he would deride the effort as being a false one. She had never been able to win with Jonas. He had formed an opinion of her before they even met, because she had been the wife of the brother he despised, and to give him his due it had never wavered; he despised her as much as he had Charles. Cassandra had formed a similar opinion of him after their first meeting, which had also never wavered—how could it when he had treated her with such contempt on that occasion, and every one since?
Jonas’s only redeeming quality, as far as she was concerned, was that his dislike of her didn’t extend as far as her daughter; he openly adored Bethany. And Bethany reciprocated by believing him to be the most wonderful man in the world. Cassandra could only hope that her daughter’s taste in men improved before she reached maturity!
‘Wear the yellow dress.’ Bethany grinned at her enchantingly from the bath. ‘The one Daddy liked,’ she added softly, sadness entering the golden-brown of her eyes at this mention of her father.
Cassandra’s own hand shook slightly as she reached out automatically for the dull gold gown that Charles had so liked to see her in, its clinging style to just above her knees, her shoulders left completely bare, classically and tunelessly appealing. Charles had always claimed it gave her eyes a golden glimmer that matched the colour of the dress, and for a brief moment after Bethany had called out to her it had almost seemed as if Charles himself spoke to her.
‘Yes—wear the pale gold,’ a voice echoed mockingly. ‘You look like a high priestess in it!’
Cassandra spun round with a gasp. This second voice was certainly nothing like Charles speaking to her; irresponsibly charming Charles had certainly never spoken to her in that disparaging way! Nor did the man who stood so arrogantly in the open bedroom doorway look anything like the husband Cassandra had loved in spite of his reckless disregard for what he termed ‘tomorrow’. It could take care of itself, he had always claimed with that boyish grin of his. Only he wasn’t here to see ‘tomorrow’ with her; this man was!
Jonas Hunter. Charles’s younger half-brother, the two of them the products of their father’s two marriages. And Charles and Jonas were as different as night and day, as shadow and sunlight. And there was no confusion in Cassandra’s mind, at least, which man was which!
