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His sister looked at him sharply. 'What do you mean? Why isn't she?'
Hazel was wondering the same thing herself; she certainly hadn't said she was going to stay on.
Rafe appeared unperturbed by Celia's aggressive attitude. 'She isn't leaving because I've asked her to stay,' he told her calmly.
Celia stiffened. 'You've what?'
'I've asked her to stay—and she's accepted.'
Celia turned furiously on the still silent Hazel. 'You little cat! You lying little bitch!' Her mouth turned back in a sneer. 'You told me you were leaving. It didn't take you long to start wheedling around Rafe again. I suppose you're paying for your keep with services rendered,' she added insultingly.
Rafe's mouth tightened, a certain whiteness about his lips. 'You'll apologise for that remark,' he told her grimly.
She turned on her heel, marching purposefully towards the door. ‘I won’t apologise to that little—to her,' she amended at Rafe's threatening step in her direction.
42 yesterday's scars
'And don't worry, I'm not staying here to interrupt your first dinner together in three years. Perhaps you deserve her after all!' With that she slammed out of the room.
CHAPTER THREE
Hazel was deathly pale, Cilia's insults having hurt her more than she cared to admit, even to herself. How could she have said those things, and in front of Rafe too! Her face flooded with colour now as she looked at him, her imagination taking her along the same lines as Celia, of being taken in his strong arms and made love to by him. She brought her thoughts up with a start; she mustn't think of things like that, she must put all such thoughts out of her head.
'I'll see that she apologises for her rudeness when she returns,’ Rafe said hardly.
Hazel looked uncomfortable, knowing that if Celia were forced to do such a thing her resentment would only grow—if that were possible. 'It isn't important. And she does have a point3' she tried to make light of it. 'When I was a child there was little I could do about providing for my keep, but now that I'm older I can't presume on our tenacious family tie any longer.’
His blue eyes had narrowed to icy slits. 'Meaning?'
She shrugged. 'Meaning I can't accept your charity any longer.'
His face was livid with anger, the scars standing out whitely against his otherwise swarthy skin. 'It was never charity and you know it!'
'You never made it seem like it, you were too thoughtful for that, but I realise now what a burden I must have been, both emotionally and financially. Celia is honest enough to show her resentment.'
'Are you saying I'm not?' he queried mildly, too mildly.
Her eyes pleaded for his understanding of what she was trying to say. 'You know I didn't mean that, I'm just trying to tell you that I understand Celia's attitude towards me, her resentment. I'm not even related to you really.'
'I realise that.’
She looked at him sharply, the relief in his voice not going unnoticed. She had always been aware that most of the Savage family had not altogether approved of her father as a husband for Marisa Savage, but she had never realised that Rafe was of the same opinion. She resented his condescension.
Consequently her answer was sharper than she might otherwise had intended it to be. ‘So if I'm to stay I'll have to work for my keep.'
'In what way?'
She blushed as she remembered Celia's mentioned method of payment. 'Acting as your helper with the paperwork, of course,' she said quickly.
Rafe gave a wicked grin at her embarrassment. That's what I thought. Shame!'
'Rafe!' she blushed anew.
He gave a husky laugh. ‘Only joking, Hazel. Only joking.'
Sara bustled in to announce dinner, waiting on them herself in honour of Hazel's return. Conversation was general through dinner, with Rafe wanting to know more about her time spent in America. She relaxed with him completely over coffee, even going so far as to tell him a few of the humorous mistakes she had made during her first few months as Jonathan's secretary.
Rafe sipped his brandy, perfectly relaxed as he sat in one of the armchairs. 'I'm sure Jonathan understood.'
She frowned. 'You know him?’
'Only slightly.'
'I didn't realise,' she said slowly.
'Why should you? I only said I knew him slightly. I know his son better. Did you like Josh?'
Hazel looked confused. 'You know Josh too?'
'We met some years ago in London.'
'Why didn't you tell me?'
'Because there was nothing to tell. We're only acquaintances.' He looked bored with the subject now, as if he regretted mentioning it.
'Yes, but—well, all this time and you never once mentioned it. It seems a little strange to me, almost as if you were both keeping quiet on purpose.' She sprang to her feet, not liking the implications that conjured up in her mind. 'Rafe?' she questioned uncertainly. 'Did you keep quiet on purpose?'
'What an imaginative child you are! I never mentioned knowing Jonathan because I don't—at least, not well.' .
She put her cup down on the side of the mantelpiece. 'But you do know him. Why didn't he mention it either?'
He stood up with barely concealed impatience. 'Possibly because he didn't consider it important either. Stop making such a thing about it! And stop letting your imagination run riot, it didn't influence Jonathan's employing you.'
Her eyes flashed. 'You can't honestly expect me to believe that.'
'Believe what you like, I'm going to my study to do some work.'
'This time of night?'
'Like I said earlier, it isn't easy finding time to do all the work necessary on this estate. The paperwork usually takes up most of my evenings.'
'Would you like me to help you?' she asked vaguely, her mind still mulling over Rafe's recent revelation. His knowing Jonathan must have had something to do with her being taken on as his secretary. After all, Rafe was the one who had found her the job.
'Not on your first day home. You've had a long day, the flight and everything. I should have an early night, try and sleep off some of the jet-lag.'
Rafe's mind was obviously already on the work ahead of him and he barely heard her words of goodnight Left on her own she decided to take his advice and go to bed; it had been a long day and she was exhausted. She shouldn't have played that game of tennis this afternoon, but the tiredness from the flight hadn't become apparent until this evening.
Nevertheless, once in her room she took time out to stand on her balcony and look at the magnificent view, a view she hadn't seen for three years. This view of the Savage beach by moonlight couldn't be equalled. Hazel had forgotten just how beautiful the moonlight shining on the white crests of the waves as they crashed on the beach could be, how clear and perfect the sky, and how beautiful the sound of the water lapping against the golden sand.
She left the balcony doors open; it was cooler now but not too cold to allow the fresh breeze to pervade her room. A quick shower and she was literally dropping asleep on her feet.
She slept late into the next morning, instructions obviously having been left not to disturb her. But she was disturbed, and quite abruptly too, as her bedroom door flew back on its hinges to crash against the wall. Hazel focused her eyes with effort, blinking rapidly to clear the fog from her brain.
Celia stood beside her bed. ‘I’ve just stopped Sara in the process of bringing you up a tray of coffee. This isn't a hotel, you know.'
Right now coffee was exactly what Hazel needed— and she felt sure Celia had realised this too. She sat up. 'I am aware of that, Celia,' she said groggily. 'I didn't ask for it to be brought up to me.'
'Oh, I know. You never did need to ask for anything, everyone always rushed to please you. You'll find things different now I'm mistress here.'
Hazel sighed. 'You were mistress here before I left,' she reminded her.
Celia smiled. 'So I was. That was one of the reasons you went to America, wasn't it?'
Hazel pushed back the bedclothes and stood up to walk out on to her balcony. She stretched like a lazy feline in the sunshine. 'I'm glad I came back in. the summer. There's nowhere as beautiful as Savage House during the summer months.'
'Make the most of it,' Celia snapped. 'This will be your last summer here. You haven't answered my question.'
Hazel came back into the bedroom, picking up a brush from the dressing-table and brushing her long hair with firm even strokes so as not to show her anger. 'About my going to America?' she asked casually. 'I had to leave some time, so why not then? And America seemed just as good a place to go to as any other.'
That sneering smile appeared again on those red-painted lips. 'Strange you should feel the need to leave just at that time.'
The hairbrush landed on the dressing-table with a clatter. 'I can assure you that it had nothing to do with you,' Hazel said stiffly. If only Celia knew, it was for quite another reason that she had wanted to leave the only home she had known for eight years. But Celia
never would know that, it was her secret, and one she intended keeping to herself.
Celia looked bored now. 'If you like to think so, Hazel. Who am I to disillusion you?' She sat down on the bottom of the rumpled unmade bed. 'So you've decided not to tell Rafe about my—little omission.'
Hazel frowned. 'Little omission?' She wished Celia would just get out of her bedroom and let her get showered and dressed and go down for that coffee she had prevented Sara bringing her. Her mouth felt like sandpaper and her head was so foggy she was no match for her cousin-in-law.
'Mm,' the silky knee-length gown was smoothed down over even silkier legs. 'My little omission in not telling you of Rafe's accident.'
'So you do admit you did it on purpose?'
Celia stood up with a shrug, walking over to pick up the gold and onyx comb that matched the brush Hazel had so recently put down. "This is nice. Expensive too.'
