Freedom To Love. Carole MortimerЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER ONE

      KATY knew she had made a mistake about this holiday as soon as the plane took off from Heathrow. She was on her way to Calgary, one of Canada’s fastest growing cities. She had wanted to see the country for so long that when Gemma and Gerald had suggested she accompany them she had jumped at the chance.

      ‘But surely I’ll just be in the way?’ She had tried not to show her excitement.

      ‘Probably,’ agreed Gemma, her sister of twenty, the elder by two years, callously. ‘But you know how old-fashioned Mum and Dad are. They’ll never let Gerald and me go alone, even if we are getting married in a couple of years.’

      Katy hadn’t relished the idea of being taken along merely as a smoke-screen to her parents, and her reluctance must have shown.

      ‘Oh, do come,’ Gemma added persuasively. ‘You know you’ll love it out there.’

      Canada beckoned, all that beautiful unspoilt country, and yet sharing it with Gemma and Gerald, her sarcastic boy-friend, didn’t appeal at all.

      ‘It’s the only way you’ll ever be able to go,’ Gemma had told her cruelly. ‘Your job as Dad’s receptionist doesn’t exactly pay well. Gerald and I will be paying for the camper, all you’ll have to find is the money for your air fare and some spending money.’

      ‘Only!’ Katy scorned. ‘Even that’s out of my budget.’

      ‘All right!’ Gemma was becoming angry now, her green eyes narrowed. ‘I’ll help you pay for your air fare too, okay?’

      Gemma must really have been desperate to have made such an offer, but Katy knew she could never accept it. ‘I think I can just scrape through,’ she refused the offer. ‘If you really mean it about the camper?’

      ‘Of course we do.’ Gemma’s eyes glowed now. ‘You’re an angel, Katy!’

      That wasn’t what her parents had called her when the idea was put to them. ‘Oh, if Katy’s going then that will be all right,’ her father agreed unhesitantly to the idea. ‘Katy’s sensible. She’ll see that no harm comes to you.’

      Ever since she was a child Katy had been called the ‘sensible’ one, and she hated it! It wasn’t even true. She was the one who at five had been playing ‘Dare’ with Gemma and had fallen off the diving-board at the local swimming-pool and had nearly drowned; she was the one who at ten had been balancing on the handlebars of Gemma’s bicycle and had fallen off and knocked out her front teeth; she was the one who at sixteen had believed the married man who was giving her a lift home when he had told her he had run out of petrol as the car came to a halt on a deserted road. She was also the one who had ended up walking the five miles home when she realised his intention of seducing her.

      And now here she was on this jumbo jet, setting out on an eight-and-a-half-hour flight to Canada when she hadn’t ever flown before. Talk about going in at the deep end! And Gemma and Gerald didn’t seem to give a damn about her welfare, totally engrossed in each other as they whispered and chatted together.

      Katy was petrified, staring straight ahead as she felt the plane leave touch with the ground, her stomach seeming to be about four feet below the rest of her body and having great difficulty in catching up. Her fingers dug into the armrests; the one to her left seemed harder than the right. She looked down to see her nails digging into the arm of the person sitting next to her, a definite male arm covered in faded denim. Oh no, she had done it again!

      Her grey eyes slowly raised to meet the deepest blue eyes she had ever seen, the lashes thick and dark, as was the over-long hair, the skin a deep mahogany, the features seeming to be carved from granite. He was the hardest-looking man Katy had ever seen, possibly in his mid-thirties, those deep blue eyes the only redeeming feature against the hawk-like nose and firm forbidding mouth, the body lean and muscular, the denims he wore old and faded, matching the partly unbuttoned shirt he wore. He looked wealthy, despite the easy arrogance with which he wore the casual clothing, his whole bearing one of haughty assurance.

      Katy realised she was still digging her nails into him. ‘Sorry,’ she quickly removed her hand, ‘I didn’t realise what I was doing’ She gave a nervous laugh. ‘Silly to be frightened. I feel all right now.’ And strangely enough she did; the plane seemed to be on an even keel, giving her stomach time to catch up with the rest of her body. ‘I’m sorry about your arm. Did I hurt you?’

      Blue eyes looked her over coldly for several long seconds, as if the man were surprised at her having spoken to him. ‘No,’ he answered finally, turning slightly in his seat, and if not actually turning his back on her giving a very good impression of it. He closed his eyes just for good measure.

      Katy glared at him angrily. Rude, arrogant man! Digging her nails into him had been an accident, the least he could have done was acknowledge her apology. And yet by the look of the even rise and fall of that wide muscular chest, he had already fallen asleep. She felt dismissed by an expert.

      She unfastened her seat belt when told to do so, accepting the orange juice the air hostess brought round minutes later, knowing her stomach was still too shaky to take the alcohol offered.

      The air hostess looked at the sleeping man at Katy’s side. ‘Would your husband care for a drink, do you think?’ she asked her politely.

      Katy flushed, glancing nervously at the face that appeared cold and hard even in sleep. ‘Er—I—I’m not——’

      Suddenly the man sat up, moving with quiet grace and favouring the air hostess with a slow sensual smile, his eyes appreciating her slim beauty. ‘I’ll have a Scotch, thanks. And just for the record, I’m not her husband. I’m not her father either,’ he drawled, his voice as English as Katy’s own, only more so, indicating a private schooling.

      ‘Sorry about the