Moondrift. Anne MatherЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘And this is what happens!’ He took a savage drink from the can. ‘If I’d known Jordan Lucas was likely to come anywhere near this place, I’d have closed the house up, boarded the windows, locked the gates, and to hell with the sense of it!’
‘Yes, sir.’ Rosalie’s bright good humour had been quenched. ‘I understand.’
‘Do you? Do you?’ Rhys got up from the table and strode aggressively round the kitchen. ‘I wonder.’
Rosalie shook her head. ‘I didn’t think you’d mind. And after her daddy died, and all——’
‘Robert Lucas is dead?’ Rhys swung round to face her.
‘More’n six years ago,’ nodded Rosalie quickly. ‘He wasn’t a well man, you know, and what with the accident and——’
‘What accident?’ Rhys’s eyes narrowed. ‘Jordan didn’t have an accident, did she?’
‘No, no.’ Rosalie licked her thick lips. ‘It was Mr Lucas. He almost drowned. Never did get over it.’
‘What happened?’ Rhys came back to the table and then, seeing the way Rosalie flinched away from him, he sighed. ‘Please—I want to know what happened. Was it a sailing accident?’
‘It was.’ Rosalie folded her plump hands together. ‘That boat of his capsized. He was in the water for hours. When they got him out he was pretty sick.’
Rhys absorbed this with brooding concentration. ‘And—he died, afterwards.’
‘Not then, no.’ Rosalie made a negative gesture. ‘The accident happened soon after you went away.’
‘I see.’ Rhys finished his beer and crushed the can in his fist. ‘So has the hotel been sold?’
‘No. Missy Jordan took over. She’d been helping her father for years, and it was natural that she should want to carry on.’
Rhys nodded. ‘And—when did she start coming here?’
Rosalie hesitated. ‘Missy Jordan’s always come here. She loves this house. When you went away, she said to me, “Rosa,” she said, “I want you to care for the house, just as if Mr Williams still lived here.” And I have.’
Rhys expelled his breath heavily. ‘Are you sure she didn’t say, just as if Mr Lucas still lived here?’ he inquired harshly. ‘Oh, what the hell! It’s done now.’ He paused. ‘And I am grateful to you and Tomas for looking after things so well.’
‘Are you?’ Rosalie sniffed. ‘Seems like you don’t care about us at all, only the house.’
Rhys shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’ He ran restless fingers through the thick straight hair that sprung darkly from his scalp. ‘But you have to understand my feelings, too. I don’t like the idea of Jordan Lucas coming here. I don’t want her on my property. I admit—once she was welcome here, but now she’s not. And you can tell her that the next time you see her.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Rosalie’s response was polite, but unfriendly, and Rhys cursed Jordan anew for creating this unwanted hostility between himself and the housekeeper. It was natural that Rosalie should side with Jordan. She had worked for Jordan’s grandfather before coming to work for him, and years ago he had been grateful to Jordan for providing him with such excellent staff. But that was all over now. The past was something he wanted to erase. And because of Jordan, he was being forced to face it far sooner than he had intended.
‘HE’S back!’
Jordan was in the linen room counting pillowcases when Karen came to find her, and although she had been expecting it, her sister’s words still brought out a wave of goosebumps over her skin.
‘Who?’ she asked, as if there could be any doubt, and Karen gazed at her disbelievingly.
‘You know who!’ she accused after a moment, propping herself against the door frame. ‘The great man, of course. He arrived yesterday afternoon. With his daughter.’
Jordan felt the muscles of her stomach tense, and to disguise her emotions from Karen, she moved out of the shaft of sunlight cast through the door. Thank goodness she had an occupation, she thought sickly, as her heart palpitated wildly. It was worse, much worse, than she had imagined, and the fact that he had brought the child with him showed how insensitive he was.
‘Well? Don’t you have anything to say?’ Karen was growing impatient, and she regarded her elder sister suspiciously. ‘Did you know already?’ she demanded suddenly. ‘Did you know it was yesterday he was due? Or did your spies at the house let you know that your pop singer was here?’
‘He’s not my pop singer!’ Jordan’s voice was muffled, but audible. ‘Karen, if you’ve nothing else to do, you can drive down to the town for those avocados. I shan’t have time this morning, and Josef needs them for tonight.’
‘Forget about the avocados!’ Karen snorted. ‘Jordan, I just told you that Rhys Williams is back on the island! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’
‘What should it mean?’ Making sure her face was still in shadow, Jordan turned to face her sister. ‘My relationship with Rhys Williams ended over ten years ago. I—I was a child, that’s all. It was a childish infatuation. It means nothing to me now.’
‘So why do you spend every spare minute at his house?’ demanded Karen scathingly. ‘Since he went away, you’ve been there at least once every week. Come on, Jordan. I may have been a kid when it happened, but I’m not a kid now!’
Jordan pressed the clipboard holding the housekeeping lists close to her chest. ‘You forget,’ she said, hearing the tremor in her voice and despising herself for it, ‘that house was Daddy’s home, too. Is it so unnatural that I should want to make sure it didn’t fall into disrepair?’
Karen shook her head. ‘And that’s your final word?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, I don’t believe you,’ retorted Karen succinctly, swinging about and making for the stairs. ‘I’ll get your avocados. I shan’t be long.’
After she had gone, Jordan spent several minutes composing herself before emerging from the linen room. There was always the chance that someone else might take it into their heads to inform her of Rhys’s return, and she wanted to be sure she could face their commiserations before returning to her office.
Just to make doubly sure, she made a detour to her own apartments, and closing the louvred door behind her, she paused a moment to take a deep breath. Rhys was back. Well, she had been expecting it. And it was nothing so terrible if she could keep things in perspective.
Walking across to her dressing table, she lifted a comb and lightly flicked back the errant strands that had escaped from the chignon at her nape. Her hair, which was toffee-coloured and streaked with blonde, grew back from a centre parting. Her brow was wide and tanned, and her eyes were grey and shielded by long brown lashes. She knew she was not beautiful in the accepted sense of the word, but when her features were animated they did have a certain attraction which she was not unaware of. Right now, however, her face was withdrawn and sombre, and she surveyed herself without pleasure and assessed the changes Rhys must see.
When he went away, she had been seventeen—now she was twenty-seven; a spinster, or so Karen was often telling her. As a teenager, she had worn her hair loose and free; now it was always coiled in a chignon or a knot, anything to keep it out of her eyes. And finally, when she was younger, her long-limbed frame had been rounded and feminine; these days, she seldom had an ounce of flesh on her bones, and she touched the hollows in her neck with fingers that shook quite revealingly.
Damn, she thought fiercely,