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She had been wondering how long it was since he’d had his last military haircut. Some time, she guessed now as he ruffled his inky-black hair. ‘Positive,’ she confirmed, refocusing. Maybe he’d grown his hair to cover his scars? She could see more of them cutting through his tan now he’d brushed his hair back from his forehead.
‘I haven’t been up here recently,’ he admitted, ‘and, as you can see, things have got kind of neglected.’
She felt a little glow of pleasure that he cared. She’d suspected he’d a human side and just hid it well. Or maybe she was clutching at straws and shouldn’t allow herself to get carried away; she liked Cade Grant far too much already. ‘All I need,’ she reassured him, ‘is a bed, a window and a door.’
He wanted to smile, but stopped himself in time. She’d struck a chord with him. He’d grown up in undiluted splendour, but what Liv described was how he’d felt on the day he’d joined the army. ‘I wouldn’t object to you making a few improvements…’
If she was here long enough there would have to be more than a few improvements, Liv reflected, and not just to the house.
CHAPTER THREE
CADE was full of surprises, Liv thought, gazing at the clothes he’d brought upstairs. She’d smiled when he’d asked her to take them to the cleaners in town where they did a turn-around service. How nice was that? He must take care of his gran’s cleaning for the old lady. And now Liv was on the point of leaving her attic room, to undertake this, the first of her missions—settling in having taken her all of thirty seconds, which was the time it took to throw open the window, turn back the bed, and discover that Cade had a lot to learn about bedding.
But his heart was in the right place. And it wasn’t just this kind deed. He had magicked up some acceptable army gear for her to wear, comprising a plain blue track suit and trainers in the correct size. Apparently he ran courses in the grounds when he was home—another plus point in his favour—and kept a stock of clothes. And then he’d insisted on giving her a wad of money ‘for anything else she might need’. When she’d protested her needs were few, he’d quirked a brow and she’d given in. She must buy some new clothes—an interim solution, he’d said. He’d just shrugged when she’d assured him she’d pay back every penny out of her wages. ‘I haven’t hired you yet,’ he’d reminded her.
Which had made her doubly determined to nail the job. Cade might seem a little gruff on first meetng, but life had made him that way. She had seen a different side of him briefly, and, however well hidden that side might be, she liked what she saw.
Wasn’t it easy to find excuses for a man who made her thrill with just a glance? Liv’s inner voice suggested. And was it the thought of those condoms in the drawer or the barren room that was making that quiver run down her spine now?
The room, Liv told her inner voice firmly; there was so much she could do with it. For someone who revelled in frills and flounces it was a blank canvas upon which she couldn’t wait to get started. What it amounted to was this—whatever Cade threw at her, she had to tough it out. She had nowhere else to go. And after the wedding fiasco she had no intention of becoming known as a serial bolter. People thought she was ditsy enough already, just because she looked a certain way, and this was her opportunity to prove them wrong. Yes, the thought of going into town on the afternoon of her aborted wedding frightened the pants off her, but she had to show her face in town some time, so why not make it now?
He frowned as he watched Liv marching down the drive. It hadn’t occurred to him she couldn’t drive. It hadn’t occurred to him anyone over the age of seventeen couldn’t drive. It made him wonder what else was lacking in her education. Recalling her horrified reaction when she’d spotted the condoms in the drawer, he had to consider the possibility she was a virgin. The thought of taking up the role of educator appealed to him. His body apparently agreed with this proposition.
He considered the ruined wedding dress, currently residing in a black plastic bag on top of the bins. What had torn Liv away from her own wedding? She must have known what she was getting into. She appeared to be the girl with everything…or was she the girl with nothing, who had realised how empty her life would become, and had decided to do something about it?
She was as pigheaded as he was, he concluded as she reached the gates. She had left without speaking to him first and clearly didn’t know the local bus only stopped every two hours outside the gates and she had just missed the last one. He could chase after her and explain, but something told him she wouldn’t appreciate that; she wanted to do things on her own, to prove she could.
She barely paused at the bus stop, before starting off down the road. Did she know how far it was to the next stop? There was a rusty bike languishing in the back of the garage, or he could even drive her into town, but didn’t he expect rookies under his command to use their initiative? Something told him Liv Tate would do just that. Plus she’d suffered enough for one day, and if she was anything like him she needed time and space to find her own solutions. Whatever had happened to her in the church that morning she had managed to put it behind her, and now she was determined to get on with the rest of her life. He could only admire that, and even envy it a little. Pulling away from the window, he left her to it.
She hitched a lift into town. Olivia Tate, formerly known as Miss Prissy-Pants-Caution-Is-Her-Watchword, waited as long as she could bear to for the bus and then hitched a lift into town with a lorry driver; a lorry driver moreover who offered to share his hamburger with her. How good was that? Having ascertained that that was all he wanted to share, she thanked the fates for being kind to her and declined politely.
By the time she climbed down from the cab on the outskirts of town Big Harry and Liv were good friends, but her buoyant mood was rudely shattered by the vicar’s wife, who lost no time in telling her that Olivia Tate was not welcome in town. ‘Why, Olivia Tate. I’m amazed you dare to show your face today of all days! And what on earth were you doing with a…truck driver?’
Liv’s eyes narrowed. Had this sort of thing been going on all along, and she’d only just noticed how ridiculous people were? ‘Big Harry?’ she said, affecting surprise. ‘Why, he’s my friend.’ And a better friend than you are, Liv concluded. Hugging Cade’s gran’s clothes for comfort, she turned her face towards the high street and the next part of her mission.
Liv was the first to admit she had a problem with shoes. She could never pass a sale sign without taking a look, and sale signs seemed to be everywhere, tempting her today. But she was looking for sensible shoes to wear at Featherstone—sturdy lace-ups with flat heels, she decided, forcing her reluctant feet past rows of massively discounted designer footwear.
She spent some of Cade’s money, and then a little more—telling herself she would work it off—before finally taking cover from the rain inside the Minster Tea rooms while she waited for the local bus to arrive.
Having drained the last of her coffee, she glanced at her watch. It was time to collect Cade’s gran’s clothes from the dry-cleaner’s. It made Liv smile every time she thought about them. Cade was all bark and no bite, she had decided. And now she really must go. She had collected a timetable from the bus station, and had no intention of being caught out a second time.
Of course, she could always take a taxi, Liv reflected, looking out of the window at the pouring rain; Cade had given her plenty of money…
And have him think her a wuss?
Smiling at the waitress, she asked for the bill.
He’d had to drive into town to pick up light bulbs. He wasn’t looking for Liv. It was just coincidence that made him cruise past the tea shop. He thumped the wheel in triumph when he spotted her seated by the window. And now he’d finished his shopping and the rain was sheeting down. He decided, in one of his ‘gallant knight helps out the little lady’ moments, to offer her a lift. But as he depressed the brake pedal in preparation to park he noticed the redoubtable Ms Tate was already striding down the high street in the direction of the dry-cleaner’s. So she had planned everything to coincide with the local bus leaving…
Good for her.
In spite of the dentist’s warning about grinding his jaw, he did so before stepping on the accelerator. He had wanted to be her white knight.
Yes, and, for a man who shunned feelings, that was dangerous.
On Liv’s return journey reality started to sink in. Now the trek up the drive of Featherstone was a guilty march and her head was full of how wretched everyone she had left behind must be feeling now. How would Horace feel? She knew she should be there with him now, facing the music and convincing him how much better his life would be without her.
How were her parents?
Liv’s firm stride faltered. She couldn’t tell tears from rain as she pushed her rain-soaked hair back. What a mess she’d made of everything, and now that nosy woman in town would embroider the facts, talk up Big Harry, and fill her mother with dread. The encounter had prompted her to leave a brief message on her father’s mobile to reassure him, knowing he would be the calmer of the two. She had also written a letter home, which she now posted. She had spoiled her mother’s special day, and, whatever their disagreements in the past, she loved her parents; they’d sacrificed everything for her. It was only her mother’s fear and insecurity that made her act the way she did. Liv should have known that and found a way to break through her reserve—touch her, reach her, reassure her, hug her…
As Featherstone Hall loomed in front of her and Liv saw Cade’s rugged vehicle parked outside, her bones turned to water. Whatever she’d done Cade Grant could sweep in and dominate her thoughts at the drop of a hat. Returning to him was exciting and frightening; he made her feel so vulnerable. It was like balancing on the edge of a precipice knowing a breath of wind could tumble her off. The thought of him, so big and sexy, with those expressive eyes that could look so haunted one minute and so challenging the next…Frying-pan into the fire didn’t even begin to cover it. Ruining her wedding was unforgivable; the pain she’d caused her mother was unforgivable; leaving Horace at the altar was unforgivable, but at least she had an underlying sense that she’d done the right thing even if she’d gone about it the wrong way. She had no such reassurances where Cade was concerned.
Clutching her precious parcel from the dry-cleaner’s, Liv picked up pace. She had promised to make Cade a nice supper, and had all the fresh organic ingredients in her shopping bag. In her smart, transparent, state-of-the-art plastic, this season’s must-have tote, Liv corrected herself. She hadn’t been able to resist snapping up the last of them at the store. And, yes, that made her shallow…Or maybe it was her insurance policy she had to secure the job now. She must stay on until she could pay Cade back the money she owed him.
Freudian shopping? Or was it just an irresistible urge to play with fire?
Whatever her motives, the thought of seeing Cade again certainly filled her with a blaze of excitement.
‘What time do you call this?’
‘Er, supper time?’ Liv’s cheeks blazed. No man had ever spoken to her in so sharp a tone before, and she wasn’t absolutely sure how to respond. Cade looked furious, but what had she done? She checked her watch. She wasn’t late. She had done everything he’d asked her to. His ‘tiger with a thorn in its pad’ stare wounded her more than he knew. So was she going to crumple? Drawing herself up, she met it coolly. She wasn’t going to fail. She wasn’t going to fail—
‘Well, don’t just stand there,’ he said impatiently. ‘You’re dripping rain all over the place.’
‘Your compassion overwhelms me,’ she said coolly. ‘Has something happened to upset you while I was away?’
He looked at her suspiciously. Everything was upsetting him. He had invited a scrap of a woman into his life, and she’d turned it upside down in no time flat. Wasn’t that enough to upset him? And did he want to feel this way? Did he want to feel anything? Plus he couldn’t get away from her—she was everywhere. Her essence invaded his mind, his body, his house—she wasn’t just here with him in his kitchen, she was in his head.
His thoughts were interrupted when she moved past him to the fireside.
The way her face brightened as she warmed herself contrasted sharply with his mood. He tried hard to sustain his bad mood, but now she was kneeling on the rug in front of the fire with her hands outstretched like a child…He looked away thinking he should know better than to introduce a girl like Liv into his dark world.
Liv was relieved to be able to turn her back on Cade and stare into the flames. She had been so certain he would be pleased to see her when she burst in through the kitchen door in a flurry of rain and parcels. She had been excited by the prospect of seeing him again, but his mood had quickly dampened that. And she still couldn’t work out what she’d done.
She had expected too much of him, that was all. Why should he be pleased to see her? She hadn’t proved anything yet. But tonight was her big chance. She brightened at the thought of it. She was going to cook Cade the best meal he’d ever eaten. At least that was one thing she could get right. She refused to be a grump, just because he was, and she had no intention of remaining on her knees all night with her back turned as if she were frightened of him. She was frightened of him, though not in the conventional sense. She was frightened of what she could see in his face…shadows, and grief, in spite of his hard outer shell. ‘You make a great fire,’ she said, trying hard to the lighten the mood.
‘It will be your job from now on.’
Had he mistaken her for Cinderella? She managed to hold her tongue as she glanced at the pile of heavy logs.
‘You’d better go and change,’ he said. ‘I’m hungry, and I’d like to eat soon.’
She had never expected working as a housekeeper to be easy, had she? ‘My apologies,’ she said pleasantly, remembering what the job meant to her. ‘I just thought I should dry out a little first.’ She held his gaze, and had the satisfaction of seeing his glance flicker away for once. She suspected Cade wasn’t used to defiance but there was only so far she would go. She would work as hard as she could, and cooperate to the best of her ability, but she would not cower in front of him.
‘At least you’ve got your uniform,’ he said.
She had been so lost in her thoughts it took her brain a moment to unscramble. ‘My uniform?’
‘Yes, you can change into it before you serve supper. You might as well get used to wearing it—’
Her nod got stuck halfway. She could understand that Cade felt more comfortable with people in uniform, and perhaps he would relax a little when she put it on…but—and she wasn’t being silly now—where was it? ‘Sorry?’ she said, gazing round the room to prompt him.
‘What are you looking for? It’s right here.’ He toed the edge of the dry-cleaner’s bag.
‘But those are your gran’s clothes…’
‘My gran?’
Liv paused. ‘You don’t have a gran.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Or an elderly relative…’
Cade’s ebony brows lifted.
‘So this…’ Liv gazed at the package on the floor in dread ‘…is my uniform?’
‘That’s exactly what it is,’ Cade told her stony-faced. ‘And now I suggest you go upstairs and put it on. You are still interested in the job, I take it?’
‘Of course I am—’
‘Well, then.’ He folded his arms across his broad chest. ‘I work to a strict timetable. I’ll give you a draft of my requirements later, but one thing will never change. Supper is always served at seven.’
If he’d told her—
‘I trust it won’t be late again?’
‘Once again, my apologies…’ How she managed to sound calm when Cade was being so unreasonable Liv had no idea. Maybe it was a measure of her determination. But, boy! Could she see why he had trouble hanging onto staff! What with the barren room and the way he’d talked to her—in her opinion a smooth-running household was a team, not a dictatorship.
‘I just like everything to be regular.’
She had to bend down and pick up her parcels before Cade could see the smile on her face. She’d give him regular. A large dose of cascara in his food should sort him out. ‘I’ll lay up the dining room for seven o’ clock,’ she said mildly.
‘Prompt.’
‘Prompt,’ she echoed, holding her breath until Lieutenant Colonel Grant had left the room, at which point she stuck out her tongue and wiggled it vigorously.
Closing the door, he let out his breath in a ragged stream. Shutting his eyes was no deterrent against the evidence. The blouse beneath Liv’s jacket had been soaking wet, revealing the contours of her breasts in alarming detail. He couldn’t trust himself to stay in the same room with her a moment longer, and the faster she got herself into that shapeless uniform, the better it would be all round. He only had to picture his previous housekeeper wearing the same outfit to know that both of them would be completely safe. He, for instance, would be able to breathe again properly, and function like any normal, rational man, instead of the sex-craved, rabid beast he felt sure he had become.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE housekeeper’s uniform was the most hideous thing Liv had ever seen. She could hardly bare to look at her reflection. Woolen stockings, yellow ochre in colour, wrinkled around her ankles, and the shapeless navy blue serge skirt together with its matching boxy jacket was so ugly it should be shredded and set fire to. Cade had no idea. When she thought of the smart army attire he wore for his job it made her ping with fury to think he expected anyone who worked for him to wear this rubbish. She was going to have it out with him—
No, she was going to calm down right now, and accept that she had no alternative but to toe the line, at least for the time being. Did she want this job, or not?
Liv soothed herself by laying out the little trinkets and feminine accessories she had bought in town to make her life in the attic room at Featherstone more bearable. It hadn’t cost her much to transform her bedroom…just a scented candle, a cheap, but pretty chiffon scarf thrown over the back of the single hard-backed chair, a clock, and a pair of fluffy slippers to tuck underneath the bed. Oh, and a small vase full of fresh flowers, as well as a novel for her to read…
Perfect, she thought, standing back smiling as she viewed the finished effect.
But there were still one or two more things she intended to change. If Cade expected staff to use this accommodation, whether she stayed or not, it would require a radical modernisation programme, and to help him with that she would draw up a list…
Liv’s heart lurched at the thought of anyone but her taking over the job of running the household at Featherstone, let alone anyone else living with Cade. She already felt quite protective of her position. Just thinking about Cade had prompted her body to react in a way that she couldn’t just brush aside. And anyway, physical reaction to Cade was a lot more fun than studying the single blanket on her narrow iron bed. The insistent pulsing between her legs made her sigh with pleasure, while the old grey frizzy thing that passed for a cover on her bed just annoyed her. It looked like old army issue, possibly dating back to the Great War. And that was only for starters…There was a single bar of dried-up soap on the cracked and rust-stained washbasin, along with a hand towel that had seen better days. Flimsy curtains drooped sadly at the windows promising the early morning light would flood straight through them, and the threadbare rug only added to the general air of dilapidation.
She stood back, hands on her hips, shaking her head. Featherstone Hall might have known its glory days, but this wasn’t one of them. She’d give Cade her improvements list when they met again at supper.
He did a double take when Liv walked into the kitchen. How could anyone look so sexy wearing that? Even in the ugly flat shoes her legs looked fantastic—until you noticed the wrinkles in her tights, that was. Forget the wrinkles—all thoughts of previous housekeepers were immediately expunged from his mind. All he could think of now was unpeeling Liv like a particularly ripe fruit, and then sucking on her until he was replete—which could take quite some time.
‘I hope you like red meat,’ she said, walking over to the fridge.
His heart sang. Folding the newspaper he’d been reading, he put it to one side. ‘I love red meat.’ He was prepared to cut her as much slack as necessary in the happy anticipation of the first proper meal he’d had in days.
‘If you’d care to relax in the library,’ she went on, ‘I’ll bring you a glass of wine—or beer, if you’d prefer?’ she offered, turning her pearl-white smile on him.
‘A beer would be fine, thank you,’ he said, exhaling with contentment as he left the room.
Having donned her apron, Liv flexed her fingers. She was ready to begin. She was determined to impress Cade, and this was the way to do it. She had been top of the cordon bleu cookery class at Miss Smythson’s finishing school for young ladies.
It would do it, Liv thought, determined, breathing steadily, in through her nose and out through her mouth to a count of three. Remembering Miss Smythson’s advice that a good cook was a calm cook and an organised cook, she had planned this meal like an army exercise, and now she was certain Cade couldn’t fail to be impressed.
She peeled and scraped and washed and mashed and pricked and patted and seasoned, and then cooked the perfect meat and the perfect vegetables for the perfect length of time. When she had finished she wiped her brow, and then wiped the edges of the plate with a fresh, clean cloth she’d had standing by for just this very moment. She stood back and let out her breath in one ragged stream. The dish was a triumph. For once she was right to feel confident.
She had brought him his beer in a wineglass, which he had decided to overlook on the basis that the scent that assailed his nostrils when Liv opened the door spoke to him of gravy and roast potatoes, mashed carrots and honeyed parsnips…
He didn’t have long to wait before disillusionment set in.
‘What’s this?’ he demanded, staring down at his plate. There was a minuscule offering piled in the centre that looked to him like a particularly small pea on top of an overlarge bun.
Liv’s face lit up. No wonder Cade was taken aback. She had decided to surprise him on this first night with her signature dish…a silky concoction consisting of slivers of beef spiked with horseradish cream, served with crisp threads of green pepper and onion. The whole dish took up no more room on the plate than a teacup; just arranging it was an art form in itself. There was a dot of mashed carrot to add colour and texture, and, of course, she hadn’t forgotten the single round of roasted parsnip no bigger than a five-pence piece to lend crunch. It was a triumph! She took in the astonishment on Cade’s face and realised she had never thought of herself as a proud person before, but she felt proud now as Cade continued to stare down at his plate in wonder. He was clearly overawed by her skill and expertise, not to mention the time and trouble she’d taken to find just the right ingredients, and then prepare them for him so well. It felt really good to be appreciated—
‘It’s not enough!’ Stabbing his fork into her glorious creation, Cade stuffed the whole of it into his mouth and swallowed it down in one gulp. Then he turned on her. ‘It may have escaped your notice, lady, but I’m no leprechaun. I’m a fully grown man who expects a proper meal—not this light bite for a fairy.’
Tears sprang to her eyes, which she held back. She wasn’t going to fail. Her mother always said she was a failure. It wasn’t going to happen again—not this time—not here with Cade. ‘I’m sorry.’ She wished her voice hadn’t come out in a whisper. She wished she didn’t want to bolt from the room. Somehow she kept her feet firmly pinned to the ground and told a lie: ‘Don’t worry, that was just a first course.’
Cade grunted acknowledgement and was still frowning as he pushed his plate away. ‘I don’t need this fancy food. You didn’t need to go to so much trouble.’
‘No trouble.’
He could see she was on the verge of tears and swiftly reined in. ‘What about all those lovely fresh ingredients you bought in town?’ he said, as if he’d just remembered them. ‘Make something simple you can prepare quickly.’
He wasn’t used to dealing with emotional women, but suspected if he said anything else half nice she would bawl her eyes out.
‘Will you have your main course now, or later?’ she asked him stiffly, pausing by the door. ‘Or I could give you a break, if you prefer?’
‘Liv.’ He was halfway out of his seat ‘—I’ll come with you—’
She held her hand up, stopping him. ‘No. I’d rather you didn’t.’
