Revenge by Seduction Read online

  ‘That only goes to show how little you know of me,’ he murmured, engrossed in the map. ‘Once you thaw out and get that chip off your shoulder you might get to know me better.’

  ‘The little I do know of you is more than enough, thank you,’ she retorted. ‘In any case isn’t this all a waste of time? You came here for one reason only and it has nothing to do with property development. That was just a cover story for my parents’ benefit, so you don’t have to keep up the pretence with me.’

  He put the map away, then said briskly, ‘Fair enough. If that’s the way you want it then we could always just go back to my hotel room…’

  Her eyes widened in outrage and her tongue got ready to flay him, then she saw the mocking humour in his eyes and she tightened her lips in silent anger.

  He laughed at her discomfort, then continued easily, ‘You’re right, as far as it goes. I only had one thought in my mind when I came here. But when I found out that the hotel was going to be put up for sale my business instincts took over.’ He patted her knee affectionately. ‘That’s no reflection on your obvious attractions. I always keep business and pleasure separate.’

  She pushed his hand away and bit her lip. The thought of him getting control of anything in Kindarroch made her shudder. Never again would she feel comfortable or at home in the village. He would be a permanent blot on the landscape. A reminder of past indiscretion.

  ‘The McLeans have owned that hotel for generations,’ she scoffed. ‘If they can’t make it pay now what chance do you think an outsider like you has got?’

  ‘Fresh ideas?’ he offered. ‘A willingness to accept that the world is rapidly changing and the know-how to adapt?’

  ‘Oh, well, there’s nothing quite so becoming as modesty, they say.’

  He ignored the sarcastic remark and pointed through the windscreen. ‘That house up on the hill. Do you know who lives there?’

  Her eyes followed the direction of his finger and she looked at him sharply, noting the look of strange curiosity on his face. ‘Why?’ she demanded.

  ‘Because it must have the best view in Kindarroch and I’m interested in it.’

  ‘Well, you’d better get uninterested in it,’ she advised caustically. ‘That cottage belongs to old Morag and you’d better not fool around with her. She’s a witch and she might decide to change you into a worm.’ She sniffed, then muttered, ‘Mind you, it might be an improvement.’

  He continued staring up the hill, as if the sight of the cottage fascinated him, then he grinned at her. ‘I’m in the property business, remember? That place could fetch a fortune as a holiday home. Do you think she’d be interested in selling?’

  She gave a frosty, satisfied smile. ‘Never. You can forget it.’

  He tugged at his ear thoughtfully, then drawled, ‘Everyone has their price, you know. She can’t be very well off, so if I made her a good enough offer….’

  ‘That’s typical of people like you, isn’t it?’ she snapped, then mimicked him, “Everyone has their price, you know.” Well, for your information there are some people up here who can’t be bought. Morag is one of them. She isn’t interested in money. Yours nor anyone else’s.’

  He gave her an odd, quizzical look, then grunted, ‘You seem to know a hell of a lot about her. You could be wrong.’

  She shook her head adamantly, then sighed. ‘Look…I should just let you go ahead and make a fool of yourself, but I don’t want you hassling Morag. She’s an old woman and…and she’ll live the rest of her life out in that cottage. There’s a story about that but an unfeeling brute like you wouldn’t understand.’

  He kept staring up at the cottage in silence, then he turned to her with a frown. ‘I might. Why don’t you tell me and let me make up my own mind?’

  Well, anything was worth a try, she told herself doubtfully. Hard and callous as this man was, there might be one tiny spark of decency left in his black cinder of a heart. Gazing up at the cottage, she quietly told him all she knew…about how Morag had come from the islands as a young girl and had fallen in love with one of the young fishermen in the village and how he’d died in a storm only two days after the wedding…how she’d kept everything in the house just the way it had been on the day he’d drowned…how she always sat at her window certain that one day Seumus, her husband, would return from the sea which had claimed him.

  Fully expecting Ryan to deride and dismiss the story as superstitious nonsense, she was surprised to see the distant look in his grey eyes. He sat for a while, as if brooding over the story, then he said quietly, ‘Seumus is Gaelic for James, isn’t it?’

  She looked at him oddly. ‘That’s right. Lots of the older ones up here have Gaelic names.’

  He kept staring at the cottage and she knew exactly what was going through his mind. How much would Morag settle for and how much could he get in rent if he hired it out as a holiday home to some affluent couple from the south of England? No wonder they called him the Golden Hind. Just a cold, avaricious pirate.

  Finally he slung his jacket onto the rear seat and growled, ‘OK. Take the road north for about five miles then head inland. And take your time; we’re in no hurry.’

  He might not be but she was. The sooner this was over and he crept back to his lair in London the better. As she put the car in gear and moved off he turned on the air-conditioning and settled back with an air of relaxed contentment.

  The roads up here were all single-track, with well-posted passing places. They were safe enough if you kept your speed down and didn’t hurtle round blind corners where you were liable to find yourself facing a juggernaut coming in the other direction. That meant that you had to reverse back and manoeuvre into the passing place you’d just shot by because there was no way the man with the tattooed knuckles was going to reverse his vehicle. It was bigger than yours.

  The sun was climbing higher into the clear blue sky and the Western Highlands had never looked lovelier. The glen stretching before them and the towering mountains on either side were painted in hues of gold and green and purple. Over to their left a herd of red deer grazed along the flank of a foothill, and high in the sky ahead of them an eagle hovered, ready to swoop down on some unsuspecting mountain hare browsing through the heather and birch scrub.

  In the winter all this could be an icy desolation, where only the foolhardy would venture, but on a day like this it was God’s own country and made you pity the poor devils who had to spend their lives in the suffocating confines of a city. The only thing lacking in the midst of all this glory was the opportunity to earn a decent living, Catriona thought sadly. You had to leave it all behind and try your luck elsewhere—and run the risk of becoming involved with people like Ryan Hind.

  Her musings came to an end when he said abruptly, ‘According to the map there used to be a stately mansion around here. Any idea how to get there?’

  ‘That’ll be the old Duke’s place. There’s no point in going there. It’s just a ruin. Half the roof has gone.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I’d still like to see it.’ He eyed her provocatively. ‘Of course, if there’s anything else you’d rather do…?’

  She pointed to a large clump of trees about half a mile ahead and said hastily, ‘It’s there, hidden from view.’

  The track leading to the house was slowly but inexorably being reclaimed by nature and was barely visible as it twisted and wound its way through the heavy stand of birch and Scots pine. Finally she drew up and switched off the engine. ‘Well, there you are. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

  He took a notepad and pen from the glove compartment. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t. Now let’s get out and stretch our legs while I look around.’

  The house was two storeys high and built of locally quarried granite, and although the door was hanging on by one hinge the windows had been secured and boarded up in days long ago. But, abandoned and neglected as it looked, there was still a sense of solidity and endurance about it. It would still be standing here five hundred years
from now.

  As he began sketching the various features of the front view she peered over his shoulder, interested in spite of herself.

  ‘Any idea who it belongs to, Catriona?’ he asked.

  She shrugged. ‘The place has been empty for as long as anyone around here can remember. My father once told me that it was built in the last century as a hunting lodge for some duke or other.’

  Intrigued, because she’d never actually seen the inside herself, she tagged on behind him as he went and swung the creaking door open. Through the gloom she could see that the walls had been stripped of their panelling and that half the banister rail was missing from the central staircase, but that didn’t seem to worry Ryan. He was stamping around the main hallway, testing the soundness of the floor timbers. He went through the whole house like that, taking notes and sketching, then he went outside for a final look.

  Finally he gave a grunt of satisfaction. ‘It’s sound enough. I could have this place restored to its former glory within six months.’

  She looked at him as if he was mad. ‘And then what would you do with it?’ she queried. ‘Not that I care if you want to waste your money, but who, except a hermit, would want to live in a remote place like this? There isn’t another living soul for twenty miles around.’

  ‘I’m aware of that, Miss Know-it-all,’ he said, with an irritating smile of condescension. ‘That could be its main attraction for the purpose I have in mind.’

  She nodded sarcastically, as if the truth was just dawning. ‘Oh, I know what it’ll be. You’re going to build a private harem for all your girlfriends. Then you’ll surround the place with barbed wire and starving Dobermanns so they can’t escape.’

  He gave her a long, hard look. He had been puzzled as to her reasons for going to such lengths to ridicule him in public. It had seemed a little over the top to him at the time but it struck him now that she might have been motivated more by jealousy than resentment at the way he’d ditched her.

  He found the idea flattering but a little disconcerting. Although he considered jealousy a predominantly female emotion, he’d never encountered it in any of the many women he’d recently been involved with. Women like them just seemed to take it as bad luck and part of the game, and that suited his purposes fine. But this was the first time he’d ever encountered a woman like Catriona McNeil…and perhaps it wasn’t before time.

  He decided to throw a straw in the wind. Adopting an engaging smile, he said enthusiastically, ‘That’s an appealing thought, Catriona. But the fence would be to keep others out, so that you and I could spend the winter together. Imagine the roads blocked with snow and the freezing wind howling over the moor. And there we are, snug and warm in front of a roaring log fire…making love on the sheepskin rugs whenever we feel like it…’

  His eyes had locked on to hers and it took a tremendous effort of will to look away. They seemed to have the power to paralyse and drain your will. The man was a positive menace, she thought weakly. If she wasn’t careful she was going to be ensnared a second time. Giving him a withering look, she said stiffly, ‘It’ll soon be lunchtime and the nearest place is twenty-five miles from here.’

  His eyes remained on hers a moment longer, then he took one last look at the house and surrounding landscape and said crisply, ‘OK, let’s go. I don’t want you accusing me of making you go hungry along with everything else.’

  As she got the car going again he studied the map. ‘There’s a hotel further on. Is that where we’re going?’

  ‘Aye,’ she muttered bad-temperedly. ‘The Pine Lodge. But don’t ask me what the food is like. I’ve never been in the place. It’s near the river and it’s always full of lawyers and bank managers from Inverness up for a day’s salmon fishing.’

  He put the map away and said casually, ‘If it’s half decent we can spend the rest of the day exploring the area then book a room for the night.’

  Her hand tightened on the wheel and she let the car coast to the next passing place where she pulled in and stopped. Staring stonily ahead through the windscreen, she said quietly, ‘You can book two rooms if you want to stay, but not one.’

  He turned in his seat and sighed. ‘I wish you wouldn’t make things difficult, Catriona. I thought we had an agreement.’

  ‘The only thing I agreed to do was to show you around the country,’ she reminded him coldly.

  He frowned for a moment, then his face cleared. ‘You’re right! I remember now. I said we’d discuss your other obligations later, didn’t I?’ His hand reached up and he stroked her hair. ‘Well, now is as good a time as any to establish the ground rules.’

  She pushed his hand away angrily. ‘Stop doing that. I don’t like you touching me.’

  ‘Then why are you suddenly so breathless?’ he said softly in her ear. ‘And why are you so flushed?’ His cool fingers brushed the tender skin of her neck. ‘You’re burning up. Some sort of fever, is it?’

  Her throat was closing up, and she swallowed and said unevenly, ‘No, damn you. It’s anger, if you must know.’

  ‘It looks more like desire to me. The classic symptoms of a woman on the edge of arousal.’ His voice was a low, seductive whisper now, and no matter how much she tried to ignore it his words made her tremble. ‘Why don’t you do the sensible thing? Let’s both forget the past. Forget about all the stories you may have heard about me, and I’ll forget about Trixie Trotter.’

  He watched her closely and saw her lower lip quiver slightly. ‘Look…’ he went on gently. ‘Let’s pretend we’ve just met. We’ll make a new start and—’

  She whirled on him and poured scorn over the idea. ‘I’d rather pretend that we’d never met in the first place. Meeting you was the worst thing that ever happened to me. The second worst was having you follow me here.’

  Well, she certainly wasn’t backward in making her feelings clear, he thought. He liked that. It was a refreshing change to meet someone with real character, and, in his view, that was an even more attractive quality than stunning good looks. As he looked down into her clear blue eyes he felt an unaccustomed warmth in his heart and he wondered…

  He’d gone down that road once with a girl he’d met at university and it had only led to pain and disillusionment. Something was telling him that this time it could be different.

  He was stroking her hair again, and it was all she could do not to shake like a leaf as his fingers brushed lightly against her neck. With a scowl of exasperation she broke free and switched on the ignition.

  For the next couple of miles there was blessed silence, giving her blood pressure time to get back to normal, then he asked suddenly, ‘Who is this woman called Madge your mother was telling me about? Is she a good friend of yours?’

  ‘I work for her,’ she replied calmly. ‘She owns a fashionable boutique in the King’s Road. She gave me a job and a place to live.’

  ‘So she’s the one who owns the flat at Palmerston Court?’

  ‘That’s right. Now just be quiet and let me concentrate on the driving.’

  ‘You’re doing just fine,’ he growled. ‘So tell me about this woman. And this time tell me the truth. I don’t want any more of your lies.’

  She took her eyes off the road for a moment and gave him a look of sizzling anger. ‘My lies!’ she exploded. ‘You’ve got the bloody nerve to sit there and accuse me of lying?’ She looked at the road again in time to slow down for a couple of hill sheep ambling along the verge. ‘You were the one who did all the lying,’ she said bitterly. ‘You probably don’t realise you’re doing it. It’s just second nature to a cheat like you.’

  He remained unmoved, and when her tirade was over he remarked thoughtfully, ‘That idea of dressing up as Trixie Trotter and making sure there was a photographer on hand at the next table…that must have taken a lot of planning. You must have needed a hand to organise it and my guess is that it was your friend Madge. In fact maybe the whole thing was her idea. Am I right?’

  Her knuckles tightened on
the wheel. If she denied it then she’d be guilty as in his accusation, of lying, so she muttered, ‘What if she was?’

  ‘Then I’d say that she was being a bad influence on a foolish and impressionable—’

  ‘You’re right there,’ she snapped. ‘I was foolish and impressionable, but the only bad influence I ever met was you. My biggest regret is that Madge wasn’t there at the time to warn me about you. She knew all about your reputation as a…a womaniser.’

  ‘Did she now?’ he mused aloud. ‘And what else does she know?’

  ‘She knows that you got thrown out of the Army,’ she answered spitefully.

  ‘I resigned my commission,’ he corrected.

  ‘Just so that you wouldn’t be court-martialled for disobeying orders. It’s the same thing, isn’t it?’ she said with disdain.

  He let the question go and gave a sour laugh. ‘She seems to be remarkably well informed. Or an interfering old gossip, if you look at it another way.’

  She wasn’t standing for that, and she defended Madge stoutly. ‘Just you watch your mouth. You’re not fit to speak her name. She might have her faults but at least she’s genuine, which is more than anyone can say about you.’

  He grinned and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘OK! I give in. I believe you. I won’t mention her name again.’

  She relaxed once more and they drove the next few miles in silence. In spite of the air-conditioning she lowered the side window and felt the cool breeze tugging at her hair. From the occasional glances she stole at him she could see that he was busy making notes and comparing the landscape with the map which was spread out on his knee. Whatever he was doing he seemed to be going about it in a professional manner. But then, she got the impression that he was a man who never did anything by half measures. Especially when it came to seducing women, she added mentally. He really put all his energy into that. But why? Other people fell in love. Why not him? Was there something driving him to act the way he did?