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Taming Jason
Lucy Gordon
Elinor knew it would be difficult to stay calm and professional while nursing Jason Tenby back to health; he was used to calling the shots. Also, she couldn't forget the time years ago when Jason had kissed her passionately…She'd never forgiven Jason for the trouble it had caused. But now he was injured and temporarily blind. For his sake she must keep her identity a secret. However, as she healed him, she tamed him–and fell for him. All too soon he would be able to see her again– surely he'd recognize her as the woman whom he'd once considered unsuitable marriage material?
Without warning he gripped her arms…
“Mr. Tenby—”
One hand still held her while the other slid its way up her arm. Then he released her.
“Get out of that damned uniform and wear something civilized,” he ordered.
“Very well, sir.”
“Very well, sir,” he echoed. “Such a cool voice. Such a neutral voice. God, I wish I could see your face this minute.”
“It’s a neutral face, too,” she assured him. “Just treat me as a piece of machinery.”
“There’s machinery in my factory. It smells of axle grease, not wildflowers, as you do.”
Elinor was startled. “I came up because I’m not happy about you having too many people in here just now,” she said quickly. “You still need a lot of rest and I—”
“No, I think you should listen while I make a few things plain,” he interrupted her. “I’ve been ill as long as I can afford to be. So if I want to talk to my manager, I’ll do so. You’ll do what I say, when I say, and that’s final. Now clear out before I start getting angry.”
Lucy Gordon cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men, including Warren Beatty, Richard Chamberlain, Roger Moore, Sir Alec Guinness and Sir John Gielgud. She also camped out with lions in Africa, and had many other unusual experiences which have often provided the background for her books.
She is married to a Venetian, whom she met while on holiday in Venice. They got engaged within two days, and have now been married for twenty-five years. They live in England, in the Midlands, with their two dogs.
One of her books, His Brother’s Child, won the Romance Writers of America RITA Award in 1998, in the Best Traditional Romance category.
Books by Lucy Gordon
HARLEQUIN ROMANCE
3515—THE DIAMOND DAD
3529—BE MY GIRL!
3548—BEAUTY AND THE BOSS
3561—FARELLI’S WIFE
Taming Jason
Lucy Gordon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE (#u393d10b4-c383-57fb-b53a-abf3f55bd9dd)
CHAPTER ONE (#ubcedb940-8c83-52c1-9869-27068846f543)
CHAPTER TWO (#u140ddeee-321e-51cd-87fd-9daf4c0978af)
CHAPTER THREE (#ud766c09c-8c03-578e-91a6-b995a164f738)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE
SHE wouldn’t cry. No matter how desperately she longed to, she wouldn’t cry and let the hated Jason Tenby know how badly he’d hurt her.
Cindy Smith pressed her hands against her mouth to force back the sobs. Through the blur of tears she could see the countryside flashing past the car. With each mile she was moving further away from the man she loved.
Jason Tenby sat beside her, his eyes fixed on the road. He never once glanced her way and she knew he was indifferent to her broken heart.
There was power in every line of him, from the arrogant set of his head to the way his hands rested on the wheel, controlling it with the lightest of touches.
For him, control was everything. It had maddened him that his younger brother, Simon, had chosen a girl from the wrong side of the tracks to marry into the proud Tenby family. So he’d set himself to smash the engagement. And he’d done so with brutal efficiency.
Although he was still in his late twenties his face had an authority that he’d inherited. Generations of Tenbys had lived at Tenby Manor, ruling the surrounding countryside, either openly or through subtle influence. Jason Tenby was the last of a long line of masters.
The girl sitting beside him was no match for him. She was eighteen, with fine bones and a delicate, vulnerable face. In her short life she’d known poverty but not harshness, and her first brush with implacable force had left her devastated.
‘We’ll reach the station in five minutes,’ Jason said. ‘Plenty of time for you to catch your train.’
‘You’ve no right to do this,’ she said wildly.
‘We’ve been through all that.’ His voice sounded bored and impatient. ‘It wouldn’t have worked. Take my word for it, Simon wasn’t the husband for you.’
‘Because he’s a Tenby, and my mother used to scrub floors for you,’ she said accusingly.
‘Look, don’t—’
‘You decided to break us up as soon as Simon introduced me, didn’t you?’
‘More or less, yes. But don’t make a tragedy out of this. You’re eighteen. Your heart will mend fast enough.’
‘It’s so easy for you!’ she cried. ‘You give your orders and everyone else has to fall in line. But I didn’t, did I? I wouldn’t take your money or listen to your hints about how I didn’t fit in—’
‘I was only trying—’
‘So when you couldn’t break me any other way you—you—’ Suddenly her control broke. ‘Oh, God, how could you do it?’ she sobbed. ‘How could you be so cruel?’
‘We’ve arrived,’ he said, halting the car. ‘Don’t make a scene in public. I know what you think of me, and it doesn’t matter.’
‘Nothing matters to you but getting rid of me.’
‘I’ll certainly be happier when I’ve seen you onto that train.’
When the train pulled in he shoved her bag inside, and urged her in after it.
‘Don’t cry, little girl,’ he said in a gentler voice. ‘And try not to hate me. Believe me, this is best.’ He slammed the door.
The guard blew his whistle. Quickly Cindy pulled down the window and leaned out, looking right into his harsh face.
‘But I do hate you,’ she choked. ‘I hate you because you trample over people and don’t care about their feelings. You got rid of me because you thought I wasn’t good enough. Well, I’m going to prove you wrong, and then I’m coming back.’
‘Don’t come back,’ he said harshly. ‘Stay right away from this family.’
The train was beginning to move.
‘Do you hear?’ she called. ‘One day I’ll come back.’
He didn’t try to answer, but stood looking after her until the last moment. She thought she saw a look of surprise on his face.
She’d sworn to return, but only out of pride. How could she ever go back to the place from which she’d been so cruelly ejected?
And yet it happened.
Six years later Nurse Elinor Lucinda Smith returned to Tenby Manor as the last hope of her enemy, Jason Tenby, who was lying blind, crippled and alone.
CHAPTER ONE
IT WAS dark in the room, and very quiet. The man in the bed lay in the mute blackness of despair.
Nurse Smith watched him for a moment before saying, ‘Good afternoon, Mr Tenby.’
Silence. He might have been dead.
His eyes were covered, as they had been ever since the accident that had almost killed him. Elinor knew how bad the injuries beneath those bandages were. She looked at his hands lying on the coverlet. Such big, ruthless hands, like the man himself. Jason Tenby had enforced his will on all who crossed his path, but today he was helpless, at the mercy of a woman who called him her enemy.
Elinor Smith pulled herself together. She was a nurse, sworn to protect the sick and vulnerable, and this man was both. It didn’t matter that he’d smashed her love and condemned her to a lonely wilderness. It was her job to care for him.
‘I don’t want any more damned nurses,’ the man said tiredly.
‘I know. They told me at the agency.’
‘The last two ran away.’
‘You mean they stormed out in indignation.’
Jason Tenby gave a grunt. ‘You’ve heard about that too?’
‘The head of the agency told me everything. He said it was fairer to warn me about you.’
‘So you’ve only yourself to blame for ignoring his warning.’
‘That’s right. I’ve only myself to blame.’
‘How long, I wonder, before you storm out?’
‘It’ll take more than you can throw at me.’ She was feeling her way, sensing that a robust approach would work best with this patient. Sympathy would merely drive him crazy. He was already on the edge of endurance, clinging on with frantic fingertips to a crumbling sanity.
She looked around his old-fashioned room, with its big oak bed and heavy oak furniture. The carpet was a deep brown, and russet curtains hung at the tall windows.
It was an intensely masculine room with nothing soft or gentle about it. The man who lived in this wealthy house spent little on his personal needs. A hard man. A comfortless man in a comfortless desert.
‘And your name?’ he asked at last.
‘Nurse Smith.’
‘I meant your first name.’
‘I think Nurse Smith is best for the moment.’
‘The formal approach, huh?’
‘It’ll make it easier for you to yell at me.’
‘I guess it will at that. Tell me what you look like.’
‘I wear a white uniform and a white cap. And black, sensible shoes.’
In the long pause that followed, she could sense him sizing her up.
‘By God, you’re a cool one!’ he said at last.
‘I’m here to help you, Mr Tenby. That’s all that matters. I want to see you up and walking, as you used to.’
His voice had a bitter edge. ‘And you really think that can happen? Have you read the notes?’
