ROARKE NATIONAL PARK proved to be an experience ideally suited to Ellen. She loved it—loved the wild beauty of the American West, loved even more experiencing it with Max.
They flew in to Salt Lake City, then drove down through the increasing grandeur of the landscape as it rose in a vast stone flight of inclined steps from the south. The park itself was still relatively quiet at this early time in the season, with parts of it still closed by snow, but in the sheltered canyon it was warmer, and the sunlit orange sandstone rock was a vivid contrast with the deep blue of the sky and the dark green of the pines.
The timber-built lodge fitted into its remote setting perfectly, blending into the landscape, a tribute in itself to the kind of design that worked best in places where nature was pre-eminent. And Ellen found the seminar fascinating—as fascinating as learning about the geology and geography of the park and the wider landscape beyond. Already she was planning a field trip here, making appropriate notes with which to broach the project with her headmistress on her return.
She made no mention of that to Max, however. She did not want to trigger another attempt by him to persuade her to abandon what he was so convinced were the confines of her life at Haughton. She did not want that upset. Wanted only to enjoy this time with him to the hilt.
And enjoy it she did.
As he’d promised, after the seminar they kitted themselves up with hiking gear and took to the trails that were open at that time of year.
‘Boy...’ she breathed as they reached the summit of one trail that had ascended up out of the canyon and on to a rocky plateau where the chill wind seemed only cooling after the heat generated by their hard-pushed muscles. ‘You don’t need a gym at this place, do you?’
Max gave a laugh, leaning back on a rock to take a long draught of water from the flask that hung around his neck—an absolute necessity for hiking, as they’d been firmly instructed by the rangers—and she did likewise.
‘No, indeed,’ he agreed. ‘We’re going to feel it in our legs tomorrow, though, I suspect. But it’s worth it ten times over.’
‘Oh, yes.’ She nodded, her eyes sweeping out over the grandeur of the wilderness that stretched as far as the eye could see and much further still. Her gaze came back to Max. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
He smiled, warm and affectionate. ‘I knew this was a good idea,’ he said. He lowered his backpack to the ground. ‘Right, that hike’s made me starving—time for lunch.’
They settled themselves on a sun-warmed rock in the lee of a boulder that sheltered them from the keening wind and companionably started on the packed lunch prepared for them. Ellen lifted her face to the sun. Happiness filled her. Complete and absolute happiness.
Her eyes went to Max.
You...you make me happy. Being with you makes me happy. Whether we’re making love or sitting like this, side by side in the silence and the grandeur of nature’s gift to us. It’s being with you that makes me happy.
Yet even as the thoughts filled her head their corollary came. If being with Max made her happy, what would being without him make her?
For being without him was what awaited her. It had to—there could be no escape from that. In days they would be heading back to England.
And even if it were not mere days...even if it were weeks...even months...at some point I would have to be without him.
Shadows clouded her mind and through the shadows words pierced her. Pierced her with painful knowledge.
The longer I am with him, the harder being without him will be.
There was a little cry inside her head as the piercing knowledge came. Instinctively she sought to shield herself. To hold up a guard against the thought that must come next but which she would not permit. Dared not permit.
Fiercely she fought back.
Enjoy only this! Enjoy this for what it is and don’t ask for more.
Yet even as she adjured herself to be cautious she knew with sudden certainty that it was already too late for caution. Awareness opened out within her like a physical sensation, and the words that went with it took form in her consciousness—loud and unstoppable.
Am I falling in love with him?
She pulled her mind away, tried to silence the words. Sought urgently to counter them. To deny them. No—no—she wasn’t falling in love with Max. She was only thinking she was!
And it was obvious—wasn’t it? Max was the first man in her life...the only man to have made love to her, embraced her, kissed her, spent time with her. It was obvious that she should fancy herself falling in love with him! What female wouldn’t fancy herself falling in love with him when he was so incredibly attractive, so devastating, from his deep, dark eyes and his curving smile to his strong, lean body?
That was all it was—just a natural and obvious reaction. It was only that, nothing more—it was nothing real...just her imagination.
Beside her, Max was packing away his now empty lunch box and fishing out his phone.
‘Selfie time,’ he announced, hooking one arm around her while holding out his phone ahead of them. ‘Big smile!’ he instructed, and set off a flurry of shots of them both. ‘There,’ he said, showing her the images.
Ellen smiled, but she could feel a pang inside all the same. A sudden sense of impending loss.
This is all that’s going to be left of my time with him—photos and memories.
She took a steadying breath. Well, she would deal with that when she had to. Right now, as Max slipped his phone away and got to his feet, hefting his backpack on to his broad shoulders again, she would make the most of this time with him. So she got up too, and set off after him on the descent.
* * *
More hiking, cycling along the paved valley trails and even horse riding—with Ellen discovering the novelty of a Western saddle—comprised their days, and dining at the lodge in rustic comfort passed their evenings. Roaring log fires in the lounge and no TV or other electronic distractions all added to the ambience and mood. Yet all the same the days passed, one by one and ineluctably, taking them nearer to their return to the UK.
Ellen’s mood, as they finally headed north to pick up their flight from Salt Lake City, became increasingly sombre as mile after long mile ate up this last time of being with the man who had so utterly transformed her.
Inside as well as outwardly.
An ache caught at her. Soon they would be parting. One plane journey away and she would be heading back to Haughton, and he—well, he would be heading to whatever was next on his busy schedule. This time tomorrow he would be gone from her life.
A silent cry went up inside her. And a savage admonition.
You went into this with your eyes open. You knew why he was doing it, what his reasons were—so don’t bewail it. Think of it as...as therapy!
She shut her eyes, blocking the sight of him from herself. There would be other men in her life now. He had made that possible. Made her see herself as desirable, as beautiful. That was the gift he’d given her, even if he’d given it to her for reasons of his own. From now on she knew that men would desire her—
But even as she told herself that she could hear that voice cry out again in silent anguish.
But what man could I desire after Max? What man could ever compare to him? Impossible—just impossible! No one could ever melt me with a single glance, could make love to me as he does, could set the fires racing through my veins as he can! No one! No one else ever will.
A shiver went through her, as if she had stirred ghosts from a future that had not yet happened but was waiting to happen. A future without Max Vasilikos in it. An empty future.
No, she mustn’t think like that. A future without Max in it would not be empty. Could not be—not while she had to fight for her beloved home, keep it as long as she possibly could, safe from those who wanted to take it from her. Including Max.
Her face shadowed. Here, on the far side of the Atlantic, she had been able to forget that it was he who wanted to oust her—for her own good, as he believed—but that bitter truth was not something she must ever forget.
And it was a truth that loomed larger with every hour on the plane as they flew back to the UK.
Her mood had darkened as they flew into the night, and she had slept only patchily and uncomfortably. She knew she had a sombre air about her as they arrived at Heathrow in the bleak early hours of the morning. She was facing the end of her time with Max and the resumption of her battle for her home.
After the tropical heat of the Caribbean, and the crisp, clean air of the American west, the wet spring weather of the UK was uninviting and drear as a chauffeured car drove them into London through the rush hour traffic.
Ellen sat huddled into a corner, groggy from the red-eye flight, and Max let her be, busying himself with catching up on his emails on his laptop. Thoughts were racing across his mind.
As they stepped out on to the pavement outside the hotel he shivered extravagantly. ‘It’s freezing!’ he exclaimed. He ushered her inside the hotel, and as they reached the warmth of the lobby said, ‘Thank goodness the Gulf is our next destination!’
He didn’t notice Ellen’s sudden start at his words, only guided her into the elevator. Back in his suite, he elaborated, watching as room service departed after setting breakfast out for them.
‘I’ve just had confirmation via email that my appointment with the business adviser to the Sheikh there is the day after tomorrow. It will be a bit of a rush, but we can fly out tomorrow. You can cope with that, can’t you?’ He smiled. ‘We’ll stay on—go camping in the Arabian desert. Stargazing, camel rides, dune-bashing—you’ll love it.’ Then his expression changed. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
Concern was in his voice. Ellen was just looking at him in consternation.
‘Max... Max, I can’t,’ she said.
He frowned. ‘You’ve still got a while before your next term starts,’ he said.
She shook her head. Her expression had not changed. ‘It’s not that,’ she said.
‘Then what is it?’ he demanded.
There was an edge in his voice he could not suppress. Emotion was starting up inside him. An emotion he did not want to feel, but that was happening all the same. Why was she hesitating like this? Making objections? Didn’t she want to come out to the Gulf with him?
Because I certainly want her to come with me. I don’t want to let her go—not yet. Definitely not yet.
Emotion swirled within him. He was certain—two hundred per cent certain—that he had no desire whatsoever to part company with Ellen now. That conviction had been growing with every passing day they’d spent together, and had come to a head on their overnight flight, when he’d realised he did not want their time together to end yet.
She’d been a revelation to him—a total revelation. Not just in her new-found physical beauty, which had knocked him for six from the moment she’d walked out looking so incredibly fantastic in that Edwardian ballgown, but ever since... And, no, not just in that respect. But more—oh, much more!
I like being with her. She’s good company. Fun, intelligent, with a great sense of humour. She’s easy-going, undemanding. She enjoys everything, is good-tempered, isn’t self-obsessed or demanding of my attention—though I’m more than happy to lavish it on her because I so enjoy being with her.
The litany ran on in his head, concluding with the most obvious reason of all. In bed, he and she set off fireworks!
Ardent, passionate, sensual, sensitive, affectionate...
The litany set off again. And was cut brutally short as she shook her head again. He saw emotion flash across her face, then vanish. There was something different about her suddenly. Something that reminded him, with a sudden flicker of concern, an inward frown, of the way she’d looked when he’d first gone to look over Haughton and succumbed to its charms. As if she were locked inside herself. Shutting out the world. Shutting him out.
And he didn’t want that. He didn’t want it at all.
OK, he allowed, trying to rationalise her reaction, so she was jet-lagged. Flying the red-eye was never a fun experience. But her wavering was more than just sleep deprivation and grogginess. His thoughts raced on swiftly. Was it because although he was two hundred per cent sure he had no desire to call it quits between them, she might not realise that? Was she feeling uncertain about him? About what they had between them?
He took her hand in his, squeezed it tight. Time to reassure her.
‘Ellen—we are good together. Never doubt that. So let’s go on making the most of it until your term starts. Don’t cut this short unnecessarily—come with me to the Gulf! I want to show you as much of the world as I can. I want—’
But she tugged her hand free, stepping a pace away from him, her face working. Emotions were swilling within her—a turbulent mix. All the way back on the flight it had been worsening with the knowledge that her time with Max was ending. And it must end. That was the blunt truth of it. She would be back at school, and Max would either be pressing ahead with his proposed purchase of her home—although Pauline would have to start legal proceedings against her to force a sale—or else he would be backing off and leaving Haughton alone.
Whichever he did, her time with him would have ended. And while part of her—the part that had her heart leaping at the thought of what his words meant—was saying, Go with him now—take these last few days with him! she could not let herself listen to it. A few more days and then she would be back here again, just as she was now, and their time together would be over.
Better for it to be over now. Because the longer you are with him, each and every day, the worse it will be for you when it’s finally over. The more you will fear that you’re falling in love with him—which you must not do. You must not!
Because whether she was falling in love with him, or whether it was just an obvious reaction to her first romance, it was going to hurt, doing without Max—it was hurting already...had been hurting all the way across the Atlantic...this prospect of her time with Max running out, reaching its close.
I’m going to have to do without him. I’m going to have to go home, back to my life, and keep fighting for Haughton to the bitter end.
So she had to crush down the rush of joy that came from the knowledge that Max wanted to spend more time with her.
She sought for the right words to say to him. ‘Max, I can never thank you enough for what you’ve done for me. Never!’ Emotion filled her voice, though it was low and strained. ‘You’ve given me a gift I never thought to have—and this time with you has been...miraculous. I’ll always be grateful to you—’
He cut across her. ‘I don’t want your gratitude! I want you to come to the Gulf with me, make the most of our time now, before your term starts again. It’s not too much to ask of you, is it?’
His tone was persuasive, compelling, but there was an edge to it as well. Didn’t she want to be with him for longer? That bite of emotion came again, and with it another spiralling upwards of frustration.
She was staring across at him, her hands lifted as if—damn it—as if she were holding him at bay. Ellen was holding him off—
Emotion bit in him again, more painful this time.
‘Max—it isn’t that. It’s...it’s just that it’ll only be postponing the time when I have to get back to Haughton. And it seems to me that it might as well happen now, rather than in a few days’ time, when I’ll just be right back here, facing the same situation. I have to go back to Haughton. And it isn’t just because term is starting, it’s because it’s where I want to be—’
She broke off. Echoing bleakly in her head were the unspoken words—while I still have it.
But that was too painful even to think—too painful to say to the man who was trying to take it from her. Even though she knew that if it was not him who wanted to buy it at some point someone else would, and Pauline and Chloe would force the sale through, and she would lose the place she held so dear to her. The place where all her happiness was centred.
Yet even as the clutch of emotion that always came when she thought of Haughton gripped her, so did another.
All my happiness? And what of the happiness I’ve had with Max? What of that?
But her mind sheered away. Whatever happiness she’d had with Max, it was never, ever going to be anything other than temporary. How could it be otherwise? He’d transformed her into a woman who could finally indulge in her own sensuality—a gift she would always be grateful for, just as she’d told him. But for him...? Well, she was just a...a novelty, maybe, made all the more intriguing by the revelation of her desirability for him. Whatever her appeal for him, she had to accept that she was no more than a good companion, in bed and out, while they were together.
‘We’re good together,’ he’d said, and it was true.
But it did not make it anything more.
Time for me to go home.
She shook her head, her expression anguished now. ‘I just want to go home, Max,’ she said. ‘It’s all I want to do.’
Even as she spoke she could feel that anguish spearing her. Yes, she wanted to go home—to be there while she still could, before it was torn from her—but it was not all she wanted. She wanted Max—oh, how she wanted him, to be with him—but even if she stayed now it would only be putting off what must be the inevitable end, only be making it worse for herself. So best for her to go now—go now and have precious time at the home that she could only lose in the end.
He saw her expression and hated seeing it. Hated hearing her say what she had said. Telling him she didn’t want to be with him—wanted instead to return to the place he was trying to free her from. Frustration boiled up in him—more than frustration. It was an emotion he did not want to name, could not name. It boiled over. He stepped towards her, closed his hands around her arms, fastening her to him.
‘Ellen, don’t do this. Your obsession with Haughton isn’t healthy. It’s poisoning you. Chaining you to a life you should not be living!’
His voice was urgent, his expression burning. Here they were, not an hour back in the UK, and she was already reverting to what she’d been like when he’d first known her. He had to stop that—right now! He had to make her see what she was doing to herself. Had to convince her, finally, that she must set herself free from her self-imposed chains. Chains that were as constraining and as deadly as those of her belief that she lacked beauty or desirability had been.
He took a shuddering breath, surged on with what he must say to her now to set her free.
Free to seize life with both hands. Free to take all it offers. Free to be with me—
Words were pouring from him. He could not stop them. He’d tried to be gentle on her during their time together, tried to ease her into seeing how she had to let the past go, not cling to it, had to move forward with her life, not stay trapped in the mesh of resentment she so obviously felt about her father’s remarriage, unable to free herself of it. He had to make her see that now—in all its stark, unvarnished truth—or she’d just go right back into it all again. And be lost...
Lost to him...
An even greater urgency fuelled his words. ‘You call it home—but it’s a tomb, Ellen. Your tomb. Don’t you see? You’ve buried yourself in it, clung to it, and you go on clinging to it because you can use it as a weapon against Pauline, who dared to marry your doting father and give him a second chance of happiness—’
A cry broke from her but he did not stop. Could not stop.
Frustration surged in him, boiling up out of the long, sleep-depriving red-eye flight that had taken them from their passion-filled carefree travels together to land them back here.
Ellen—his Ellen—whom he’d freed from her self-imposed mental prison of thinking herself unlovely and undesirable, was now determined to go straight back to the destructive life he’d released her from. He couldn’t bear to let it happen. He had to make her see what she was doing to herself, consumed by bitterness as she was. It was a bitterness that was destroying her. Changing her from the wonderful, carefree, passionate woman she’d been when she was with him. Changing her back into the embittered, resentful, anger-obsessed person he’d first encountered.
He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t!
He plunged on. ‘Ellen—look at yourself. You’ve let your anger and resentment eat into you. For years and years. You never gave Pauline and Chloe a chance—you never wanted them to be part of your family. You were fixated on your father—understandably, because of the loss of your mother—but now you’ve become obsessed with punishing them by hanging on to Haughton.’
She thrust him away, lurching backwards. Her eyes were wide and distended. Emotion battered at her. Stress, weariness and anger rushed up in her.
‘It’s my home, Max! Why should I sell it so that someone like you can turn it into a hotel? Or sell it on to some oligarch or sheikh who’ll only set foot it in once a year, if that!’
He shook his head vigorously. ‘That isn’t what I want to do with Haughton. What I want is—’
She didn’t let him finish. Dear God, why was he choosing now, of all times, to lay into her again? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Stop going on and on about it?
‘I don’t care what you want! I don’t care because I will fight you to the last—fight Pauline and Chloe to the last. Haughton is my home, and all I want—all I want—is to live there in peace!’
Max’s hand slashed through the air. Exasperation and anger and emotions that were far more powerful than both of them fuelled his outburst. ‘Then do it! Just damn well do it! Stop your venomous, vengeful feud with your stepmother, which is twisting you and poisoning you, and buy them out.’
He saw her freeze, his words stopping her in her tracks.
‘Buy them out...’ It was not a question, not a statement. Merely an echo. Her face was blank—quite blank.
He took a heavy breath. ‘Yes, buy them out. If that is how you feel, Ellen, then simply buy their share from them so they can make a new life for themselves somewhere miles away from you, since I’m sure they feel the same way themselves. And then there’ll finally be an end to this sorry saga. God knows I’ve tried to show you how good your life can be, but while you cling to your vendetta, keep punishing Pauline and Chloe, the poison is destroying you.’
He shook his head. He was beating it against a brick wall, he could see. He turned away, pouring himself a cup of coffee and knocking it back, as if to restore energy levels that were suddenly drained dry. Could nothing make her see what she was doing to herself?
There was the lightest touch on his arm. Ellen was there, drawing his attention. He put down the drained cup and turned.
There was something strange in her expression—something he’d never seen before. And it chilled him to the core.
Her voice, when she spoke was thin...thin like a needle. ‘You said I should buy out Pauline and Chloe’s share of Haughton...’ Something flared in her eyes like a black flame. ‘What with?’ The words were spat at him.
Exasperation lashed from him. ‘Ellen, don’t be melodramatic,’ he said crushingly. ‘You could easily buy them out if you wanted. Pauline told me that you’d inherited everything else your father left—his stocks, his shares, all his other assets. She told me herself he was a very wealthy man.’
He saw her face whiten like a bone. Bleach-white. The hand on his sleeve seemed to spasm. But when she spoke her voice was very calm. Too calm.
‘Let me tell you something, Max.’
Her hand dropped like a dead weight from his arm. There was something odd about the way she was looking at him. Something that made him think of a mortally wounded animal.
‘Do you remember the night of that Edwardian ball? The jeweller who arrived with all that jewellery for hire? Do you remember I chose the rubies immediately?’
There was something wrong with her voice too, and it made Max frown.
‘It was not just because they went with my gown. It was because—’
And now there was definitely something wrong with her voice—with her eyes—with her white face and stiffened body.
‘Because they once belonged to my mother. I recognised them instantly—especially the ring. It was her engagement ring. And it was my great-grandmother’s before that—as was the rest of the parure. My mother liked the old-fashioned setting. But Pauline did not.’
And now Ellen’s eyes had a different expression in them—one that Max found was causing the blood in his veins to freeze.
‘So she sold it. She sold a great deal of my mother’s jewellery, only keeping what she liked. Or what Chloe liked. They both like pearls, as it happens, in particular. The double pearl necklace Pauline was wearing when you came to lunch was my father’s tenth anniversary present to my mother, and the pearl bracelet Chloe wore was given to me by my parents for my thirteenth birthday. Chloe helped herself to it—said it was wasted on me. Wasted on me because I was nothing but a clumsy great elephant, an ugly lump, totally gross. And she never, ever missed an opportunity to remind me of that! Wherever and whenever. She made me a laughing stock at school for it, and has gone on laughing ever since—she’s mocked me mercilessly ever since her mother got her claws into my poor, hapless father!’
Max saw her take a breath—just a light, short breath—before she plunged on. There was still the same chilling light in her eyes, in her voice.
‘When Pauline married my father he was, indeed, a very wealthy man. It was his main attraction for her, his money—she just loved spending it. And so she spent and she spent and she spent! She spent it all. All of it! She spent it on endless holidays to expensive places—spent a fortune on interior designers both at Haughton and for the flat in Mayfair she insisted on. And she spent it on couture clothes for herself and Chloe, and on flash cars that were renewed every year, and more and more jewellery for themselves, and endless parties and living the high life at my father’s expense.
‘She burned through the lot. He sold everything in the end—all his stocks and shares, and some of the most valuable paintings. He cashed in all his funds and his life insurance, just to keep her in the luxury she demanded for herself. He died with almost nothing except Haughton—and he left two-thirds of that to Pauline and Chloe. Pauline made sure of that when he had to make a new will once he’d remarried. Made very, very sure!
‘So you see, Max—’ there was a twisting in her voice now, like the wire of a garrotte ‘—there is absolutely nothing left of my father’s wealth except what Haughton represents, so it would be hard for me to buy out Pauline and Chloe on my teacher’s salary. That goes on paying for groceries and council tax and utility bills—and for my stepmother and stepsister’s essential expenses. Like having their hair done. Their little jaunts abroad, of course, are paid for by systematically selling off the antiques and paintings left in the house.’
Her voice changed again, becoming mocking in its viciousness.
‘To be fair to them, that’s how I’ve decided I’m going to pay for the clothes I bought here in London. After all, why shouldn’t I get just a fraction—a tiny, minute, minuscule fraction—of what my father’s wife has taken? And by the same token, Max...’
The pitch of her voice chilled his blood once more, and the venom in her eyes was toxic.
‘Why shouldn’t I be just a tiny, teeny bit...reluctant...to let that pair of blood-sucking vampires sell my parents’ home out from under my feet? Why damn well shouldn’t I? Because it’s all I’ve got left. They’ve taken everything else—everything! They bled my father dry and made his life hell—and mine! And I will loathe their guts for it till my dying day.’
A shuddering breath escaped her, as if she were at the end of all her strength.
‘So now, if you don’t mind, Max, I’m going to go back to the place where I was born and raised, where I was once entirely happy until those...vultures...invaded it. The home I so fondly thought would one day be mine to raise my own family in, where I’d live out my days, but which is now going to be torn from me by my grasping, greedy, vile stepmother and stepsister, because it’s the only thing left they can take. And I’m going to make the most of it—the very most of it—until the law courts, or the bailiffs, or your security guards or whatever it damn well takes drive me out of it.’
Her face contorted. She whirled around, seizing up her suitcase. He watched her stalk across the room, yank open the door, slam it shut behind her. Watched her while he stood motionless.
Quite, quite motionless.