8 Magnificent Millionaires

‘How are you finding it working up there with the writer fellow?’ Jack called from the kitchen.

On a scale from one to ten? Below zero…Liadan reflected silently. Then she pulled herself up short, reminding herself that it wasn’t all bad. It was a beautiful house to work in, the work was, on the whole, second nature, and Adrian Jacobs…could be worse. She let loose a wry laugh at that.

‘What did you say, love? I didn’t hear you.’ Popping his head round the door, Jack’s wrinkled brow creased in puzzlement.

‘I said it’s fine, Jack. Everything’s fine.’

‘Good. It does my heart good to see you smile again. When you were with that Michael fellow, I missed your smile.’

For the umpteenth time that afternoon Adrian glanced at his watch and for the umpteenth time was unable to suppress the sense of worry and anxiety that surged into his chest. Where was she? She’d been gone too long even if she had popped back home to her cottage. The perfectly made chicken sandwiches she’d brought him earlier lay curled up and uneaten on the plate and his coffee too had been left to grow cold and congeal in its brightly patterned cup and saucer. After the events of this morning and that scene with Liadan before she’d left to go to the village, the last thing Adrian could stomach was food. The darkly dramatic themes of his current work in progress, instead of exciting or enthusing him, just filled him with melancholy and a silent rage at the futility of his life that was growing daily. Why couldn’t he have been the one who’d been left waiting on the sidewalk when the bomb had gone off? Why had it had to be Nicole—vibrant, beautiful and only twenty-nine? She would have been his wife…the mother of his children.

Stalking restlessly from his study, Adrian headed to the kitchen and prowled there, noting the spotlessly clean worktops, meticulously swept floor and newly laundered tea towels folded neatly over the rail of the Aga—all signs that Liadan was completely professional and adept at doing her job. The job he’d hired her to do. He should feel gratified, he told himself. When he’d first seen her he’d doubted she would last a day, never mind impress him with her efficiency. And now he would do well to remember that she was only his housekeeper, not someone he could get close to, whom he might confide in—no matter how beguiling that gentle voice or how kind that beautiful face.

Tapping his fingers against the tabletop, Adrian couldn’t resist another glance down at his watch. Where the hell was she? She’d left the house over three hours ago and it was now black as tar outside. Had she been waylaid by the press and somehow persuaded to talk? Or had she simply decided to leave and not come back? Hating the idea and despising himself for dreading such a possibility, he went in search of his coat and, with a surge of energy that had so far been denied him that day, decided to find Liadan and bring her safely back home.

CHAPTER SIX

WHEN he came upon the old-fashioned Morris Minor tilted sideways into a ditch at the side of a winding unmade road not far from the house, Adrian knew immediately it was Liadan’s. Climbing quickly out of his Jeep, he ran to the vehicle, his heart pounding so heavily in his chest that it made the blood roar in his ears. As he wrenched open the passenger door and called her name she turned and stared at him, her blue eyes dazed yet startled. Then he saw the blood.

For one terrible, frozen moment Adrian felt physically sick. The blood had oozed from a gash high on her forehead into her beautiful red-gold hair and her skin was quite pale in the car, reflected light from the still blazing headlamps lighting up the interior with an almost supernatural glow.

‘I hit my head, I think.’ Her smile was lopsided and apologetic. Long training forcing him to take charge even though his heart was still banging like a drum, Adrian leaned towards her in a brisk, no-nonsense kind of way that belied the turmoil going on inside him.

‘I need to get you out of there and take you straight to Casualty. Here, reach over to me carefully. Take your time, don’t rush.’

She was a warm bundle of tweed coat, bright orange scarf and tumbling strawberry-blonde hair in his arms and if he was surprised at the feeling of protectiveness that washed over him, Adrian quickly squashed the sensation in order to do what he had to do.

‘I swerved to avoid a rabbit.’ Biting her lip, Liadan stared up at him, tears washing those perfectly blue eyes like a crystal fountain flowing over sapphires.

‘A rabbit?’ Adrian’s expression was almost painfully wry as he eased her gently into the passenger seat of the Jeep. Swiftly fastening her seat belt, he pushed back her hair from her eyes to examine the wound she’d sustained. The gash was about two inches long and appeared deep. He frowned into her upturned face, torn with the need to either scold her thoroughly or kiss her senseless. Again his feelings stole a march on him and he fought hard to get them under control, inwardly raging that right now nothing in his life yielded to his control. Not one damn thing, it seemed.

‘Here.’ He produced a spotless white handkerchief from his jeans pocket and gave it to Liadan. ‘Hold this to your head until we get to the hospital. It’s about ten miles away. Think you’ll be okay?’

‘I’ll be fine.’ Her voice was raspy with a slight catch in it and Adrian’s dark gaze grew even more concerned.

‘Are you hurting?’ he demanded. ‘Feeling dizzy or sick?’

‘I’m not dizzy but it—it stings.’ Wincing, Liadan gingerly pressed the clean white handkerchief to her head. ‘You probably think I’m a terrible driver, don’t you? But I really thought I’d kill that rabbit.’

‘And what if you had killed yourself, huh? Did you think of that when you were trying to do your good deed for the day?’

He sounded furious, Liadan thought a little desperately as her head throbbed. It was fortunate that Adrian had come along when he had because God knew how long she would have been stranded there in rapidly deteriorating freezing temperatures if he hadn’t—but why did it have to be him who found her in such vulnerable circumstances? She tried to swallow but the ache in her throat was almost as painful as the gash she had sustained.

‘I didn’t think about trying to do a “good deed”. I acted completely instinctively. Would you like the death of an innocent creature on your conscience?’ She knew she sounded petulant but she couldn’t help herself. Why did he always have to be so angry with her?

Staring at her as if she’d slapped him, his mouth a foreboding grim line in his suddenly pale face, Adrian nodded at her briefly before slamming the door shut at her side. Jumping into the driver’s seat, he started the engine, engaged the gears and drove off past Liadan’s stranded car without so much as a backward glance, her unfortunately significant words echoing through his brain like the sound of a blacksmith’s hammer coming down hard on an anvil. Would you like the death of an innocent creature on your conscience? she’d asked. He’d felt so bloody desolate just then that if Liadan hadn’t been his passenger, Adrian would have willingly driven his own car into a ditch. Or failing a ditch, the nearest river…

When the door opened suddenly and Adrian strode into her room, Liadan pushed herself guiltily up into a sitting position against the plumped up pillows on the bed, trying to ignore the renewed stinging of her newly stitched wound. They’d spent nearly three hours at the hospital waiting for her to be seen and her wound attended to, and by the time they’d got home it had been nearly ten in the evening. She hadn’t been able to even think about cooking him the delicious meal she’d intended, and she guessed her recently bought ingredients were still in the back seat of her stranded car.

Her brows knitting anxiously together, she glanced up at Adrian’s tall, imperious figure with a little knot of trepidation settling uncomfortably beneath her ribs. He’d been faultlessly attentive and solicitous at the hospital, regularly checking that she was comfortable enough as they waited on hard red plastic chairs in the busy emergency department. Every now and then he’d stride across the shiny floor to the little reception window and enquire how much longer it would be before Liadan was attended to. All eyes had been drawn to him. He was an imposing-looking man at the best of times and he was even more so when he took charge on Liadan’s behalf. She didn’t know whether she’d been seen more quickly than she would otherwise have been because Adrian had simply worn the receptionist down with his constant badgering, or because he had the kind of aura about him that plainly commanded attention. In any case Liadan had been grateful to have him on her side.

Now, though, she couldn’t help fretting that he must think her a complete nuisance. He needed a housekeeper, not a patient. Knowing that thought must be uppermost in his mind, Liadan resolved to get straight back to her chores in the morning, throbbing head or no throbbing head. She was determined to let Adrian know she was no wilting flower, fading at the first little setback.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, examining her closely.

‘Fine.’ She gulped, then quickly glanced away lest he see she was lying, because she didn’t feel fine. She felt bloody awful if he wanted to know the truth.

‘Liar,’ he said.

Liadan sensed that uncomfortable knot beneath her ribs tighten. Lifting her hand cautiously to the white gauze dressing that was taped to her forehead, she forced a smile. ‘Obviously I’ve felt better. But it’s only a small gash and tomorrow I’ll be up and about again, no worries. You’ll see.’

‘Over my dead body.’ Adrian’s expression was darkly foreboding. Her eyes widening in surprise, Liadan’s heart skittered.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean only an idiot would consider getting up and carrying on as normal after an accident. You need at least a day to recover, if not two. And you’re to tell me right away if you have any dizziness or sickness, is that clear?’

Wishing he wouldn’t look quite so formidable, Liadan felt herself slump resignedly back against the pillows. All of a sudden she was deathly tired. ‘I’ll see how I feel in the morning,’ she said quietly.

Studying her pale complexion along with the soft, bruising smudges beneath her startlingly blue eyes, Adrian reached out his hand and lifted a curling lock of her red-gold hair. Staring at it, twining it round his fingers, its silken texture stirring something deep within his soul, he frowned, his concentrated dark gaze not moving from the sight of it. It had been shocking when he’d seen the blood staining that beautiful hair. For a moment he really hadn’t known where he was, as all the harshly buried pain he’d carried around with him in the years following Nicole’s brutal death had seemed suddenly to surface and threaten to batter him—like volcanic rocks spewing down a mountainside towards him. Thank God he’d come quickly to his senses and got Liadan to the hospital as rapidly as he had. He’d never have been able to forgive himself if he hadn’t come to her aid in time.

‘Head wounds can be very serious—even if they don’t appear so at the time,’ he said out loud.

He was far away from her in another place, Liadan realised, his mind clearly dwelling on some past situation that she was excluded from. Whatever it was, it haunted him. Haunted him to his very bones. One day when she was brave enough, perhaps she would dare to ask him about it? But not now, when the memory was clearly paining him anew, and especially not when her heart was pumping so hard she almost couldn’t breathe…

‘I’ll be…I’ll be careful,’ she promised, her lips trembling a little.

‘I’ve called out the chap who owns the local garage to come and get your car out of the ditch. I’m just waiting to hear back from him. As soon as he locates it I’ll drive out to talk with him. Will you be all right if I’m gone a little while? I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

‘I’m sure I’ll be just fine.’

‘You’re not to get out of bed or move so much as a muscle.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Good.’ Seemingly satisfied, Adrian abruptly released the impossibly soft coil of hair still brushing against his fingers and strode across the room to the door.

‘It’s very good of you to do all this. I mean, seeing to my car and taking me to the hospital and everything. I’m very grateful.’

‘Don’t be.’ With a flash of barbed humour, Adrian shrugged carelessly. ‘I’m only protecting my investment.’

Crushed, Liadan shut her eyes, warding off the hurt that ached right down to her fingertips.

She was making soup for their lunch. She’d had to swear by all that was holy to Adrian that she wouldn’t overdo it, but he had finally relented and let her come downstairs. All the ingredients she needed were laid out carefully on the scrubbed pine table. Chopped-up celery stalks filled a blue ceramic bowl next to a dish of roughly sliced carrots and next to that was a smaller dish of finely diced onion and garlic. Having spent years helping in the kitchen of her parents’ hotel, Liadan favoured an ordered approach to her cooking. Once all her ingredients were prepared and on display, then she could get down to the fun part of creating appetising meals. Now as she stood at the stove stirring a large pan of simmering stock she breathed in the fragrant cooking smells and tried not to concentrate on the dull, aching throb in her forehead.

Adrian had warned her not to get carried away. A sandwich and a cup of coffee would suffice for lunch, he’d told her as his dark serious gaze had swept broodingly across her features. But Liadan surmised the man needed to get a bit more creative, at least as far as his lunchtime routine went. And there was nothing better than hot, home-made soup on a bright, cold winter’s day like today.

‘Anybody home?’

Liadan turned at the voice, and her gaze collided dazedly with a smiling Steven Ferrers. He strolled into the big country kitchen with his usual bad-boy stride, his too-intrusive glance flicking up and down her sweater-and-jeans-clad figure, making it obvious that he liked what he saw. Liadan’s hackles rose immediately, just as Izzy’s did when unfamiliar visitors came into the house.

‘What are you doing in here? How did you get in?’

She hadn’t seen him since that unpleasant encounter in the garden and she was seriously bothered by the fact that he didn’t seem to have paid any attention to what she’d said to him then about keeping away from her.

‘That’s a nice greeting, I must say! Front door was open, for your information. Our Mr Jacobs has gone for a walk and left it ajar. I only dropped by to see how you were. Dad told me you drove your car into a ditch last night and his lordship had to take you to hospital. You’ve hurt your head. I’m sorry to see that, Liadan.’

Unsure how to handle Steven’s professed concern about her welfare and slightly discomfited by the fact that Adrian wasn’t present in the house, Liadan wasn’t about to let her guard down just yet.

‘It’s not as bad as it looks. I’m perfectly fine, actually.’

‘I won’t argue with that, sweetheart. You’re easily the best thing in this whole godforsaken place!’

‘Look.’ Exasperation getting the better of her, Liadan folded her arms across her chest and sighed. ‘I really must get on. I’ve got work to do and I’m sure you have, too.’

‘Seen the papers this morning?’

Before Liadan could answer one way or the other, Steven drew a folded-up newspaper from one of the deep patch pockets on his duffel coat and slapped it on the table in front of her.

‘Look on page two and cast your eyes over what our infamous Mr Jacobs has been up to!’

When Liadan deliberately made no move towards the offending tabloid newspaper and instead stared frostily at Steven, he leant forward and opened the pages himself for her to examine. Reluctantly Liadan’s gaze fell on the grainy black and white picture of Adrian, clearly taken in his days as a war correspondent. He was standing in some kind of desert landscape and he wore light-coloured trousers with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows. Even though he must have been reporting from some dangerous and grim terrain, he looked much less careworn and younger than he did today—as if he could easily deal with whatever trials life threw his way and still have reserves left over.

Her stomach clenched tight as though there were suddenly a giant-sized knot inside it. Next to the picture of Adrian there was another more glamorous snapshot of a beautiful brunette with exotic slanting eyes and pouting lips. Petra Collins. The headline screamed, HOLLYWOOD ACTRESS CLAIMS WRITER LOVER DEMANDED ABORTION. Casting her eye further down the page, Liadan briefly read, ‘Well-known author Alexander Jacobsen—previously war correspondent Adrian Jacobs—denies Petra Collins’ startling claim that he made her have an abortion when she was pregnant with his child…’

‘This is garbage.’ Grimacing with distaste, she closed the paper and turned back to stir the fragrant-smelling stock in the pan.

‘Know that for sure, do you, sweetheart?’

To her alarm, Steven came up behind her and laid his hand on her shoulder. His touch made Liadan shudder as though a bug had just crawled down her bare skin and she swung round and pushed her hands roughly against his chest to make him go away. ‘I told you before, if you ever lay your hands on me again I’ll call the police!’

‘Think your threats can scare me, little Miss Goody Two Shoes? Just who the hell do you think you’re saving yourself for—the Lord of the Manor? He might bed you, sweetheart, but don’t expect any more than that. You’ve seen what he did to that actress. When he marries it won’t be to the likes of you or her. It’ll be to some posh tart that went to the right school whose daddy is loaded. You could do worse than be nice to me, Liadan. A lot worse.’

His mouth was twisting cruelly, and the macabre grin made her blood run cold. Trembling with emotion, Liadan shook her head. ‘If you want to delude yourself, fine! Enjoy your little daydream while it lasts, because if you so much as come within ten feet of me again I’ll go straight to your father and tell him exactly what you’ve been doing.’

‘No, you won’t.’

‘Yes, I w—’

‘What’s going on here?’ Adrian stepped inside the room with a face like a thundercloud. Liadan’s heart almost stopped. Grabbing up the paper from the table, she quickly folded it and shoved it into Steven’s hands. The last thing Adrian needed to see today was that vile slander.

‘Nothing.’ She smiled, her blue eyes silently signalling Steven to keep quiet. With another self-satisfied grimace, the younger man touched the paper to his head as though doffing his cap and sauntered past Adrian as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

‘Just a minute.’

‘Yes, Mr Jacobs?’

‘I don’t want you coming in here bothering Liadan when she’s working. Is that understood?’ Although Adrian’s smooth, even voice belied it, Liadan could hear the rage that simmered beneath the calm surface when he addressed the younger man.

‘Yes, Mr Jacobs.’

‘And you’d better take that stupid smirk off your face right now before I take it off for you!’

‘Is that a threat?’

‘If you want to keep your job you’d better not even think about getting cute with me. Do I make myself clear, Mr Ferrers?’

Clearly struggling to keep a lid on his temper, Steven nodded his head derisively before stalking from the room looking as if he was going to kick the nearest thing that came into contact with his boot.

Letting go of the breath she’d been holding, Liadan pressed her hand to her chest, her fingers closing over a tiny pearl button on the roll-neck collar of her soft wool sweater.

‘You should know better than to encourage him.’ Arms akimbo, Adrian studied her as if she was a great disappointment to him. Indignation and hurt welled in Liadan’s chest at his careless assumption about her association with the younger man. Did he really think she’d be interested in a low-life like Steven Ferrers?

‘I didn’t! I mean I don’t! He just wanted to—’

‘I’m not interested in what he wanted from you, Liadan. Things would run a lot more smoothly round here if the people I employed just got on with their jobs and kept the organisation of their social lives for their days off!’

As he strode out of the room Liadan took a moment to absorb the outrageous admonition before haring off after him and catching up to him in the corridor. Unable to think past the fury that was threatening to burst out of her like a hot spring, she caught his arm to make him stop and face her.

Adrian stared down at the pale, slender fingers curved round his bicep, and couldn’t deny the fierce stab of heat that went straight from his arm to his groin. For a moment it made him almost dizzy—weak with longing. With her blue eyes flashing and her chest heaving, right now Liadan Willow was the woman of his dreams, the epitome of all his fantasies rolled into one gorgeous, sexy package…

‘Just a minute! You can’t just walk in, say something as insulting as that and then walk out again!’

‘You don’t think I have a right to admonish you if you waste your time making social arrangements with Steven Ferrers when I’m paying you both to work for me?’

Suddenly aware of exactly where her hand was resting, Liadan snatched it back, her pale face awash with burning heat. All she could think of was one thing now she had felt the throb of that steely bicep beneath her fingers…sex. Adrian Jacobs was sex on legs and just lately it had been slow, sweet torture to even be in the same room as him. Never in all her twenty-seven years had Liadan experienced such wanton longing for a man.

‘I don’t even like the man! Why do you think I would even dream of seeing him after work?’

‘It’s not such a stretch of the imagination, is it? He’s not bad-looking, I suppose, and he certainly has a reputation for being a bit of a magnet for some of the local girls, so I’m told.’ Adrian shrugged and glanced away. When he next rested his dark brown eyes on Liadan, one corner of his usually stern mouth had disconcertingly lifted in a little half-smile. ‘Maybe you’re lonely? You’re a young, healthy woman, Liadan—barring head wounds caused by an aversion to running over rabbits. I’m sure you have the normal desires of any young female. You don’t have to be ashamed of them.’

Barely able to speak over the dryness in her mouth, Liadan frowned. ‘I’m not ashamed. I’m just not interested in Steven Ferrers and I don’t want you believing that I am.’

‘Good.’ His voice arrestingly low, Adrian brushed back a curl from her forehead and seemed to be examining the gauze pad that was still taped there. His touch immediately sent tiny electrical currents of shock pulsing throughout Liadan’s body. She felt shivery with heat, weak with fervent, helpless longing, as if her insides were slowly but inexorably melting.

‘I like this sweater,’ he said beguilingly, his hand moving away from her forehead and resting instead on the front of her mulberry-coloured jumper.

‘Do you?’ Mesmerised by his hot glance, Liadan hardly dared breathe.

‘It shows off your shape to perfection.’

She sensed his fingers move inevitably downwards until they stroked across the burgeoning nub of her nipple, peaked inside her pretty lace bra. Her womb contracted deeply in shock, and a violent wave of scalding desire throbbed through her body leaving her momentarily dazed.

‘Adrian, I—’

He withdrew his hand, but his glance still burned. Liadan could feel the prickling sensation on her breast where he had touched her, the primitive aching need between her legs…

‘Keep away from Steven Ferrers. Take it from me, he’s trouble. If he bothers you in any way I want you to tell me right away. Understand?’

All she could do was nod. Right now she was hardly capable of speech.

‘Oh, and Liadan?’

‘What?’

‘If you could take pity on me and not wear that tight sweater again, I’d be very much obliged.’