What had followed had all the trappings of the very worst kind of nightmares. Her parents had dragged her home in a thick silence, but once there, the real torment had started. What had she been doing with that boy? her mother demanded. They had questioned her in her father’s study with Joel Hargreaves standing impassively by, listening to every single word. Lissa thought now she had never hated anyone in all her life as she had hated him that night. Send him away, she had demanded tearfully of her parents, but her father had refused. ‘No Lissa. I want Joel to know what sort of girl his brother is going to get for a sister-in-law. Had you no thought for your sister when you disobeyed us?’ he demanded, adding, ‘do you think it fair that she should be tarred with the same brush as you?’
They had questioned her about what she had been doing with Gordon and in vain she had told them they had simply been kissing, blushing bright painful red to admit as much, but they had refused to believe her, saying why should they when she had already deceived them once by attending the party in the first place, and all the time Joel Hargreaves’ watchful eyes had been on her, deriding … scorning … making her feel dirty and humiliated.
And her humiliation had not ended there. There had been a visit to their doctor; an examination which had left her racked with anguish and mental agony; and then she had been sent away to school. So that Amanda wouldn’t have to bear the disgrace of a promiscuous younger sister, her parents had said.
It had taken years for Lissa to accept that she was not what her parents had called her; but the events of that night and the days which had followed had left her permanently scarred. To allow a man to so much as touch her was to relive again all that anguish; to endure the biting contempt in Joel Hargreaves’ eyes when he looked down at her lying on the narrow bed with Gordon, her brief dress exposing all the long length of her legs, her mouth swollen from Gordon’s kisses, all her tender, vulnerable adolescent emotions exposed to the cruel scrutiny of his worldliness.
‘If you’ve finished with the table …’
It was several seconds before Lissa realised the waitress was speaking to her and that people were waiting for her to vacate her table. Almost stumbling she got to her feet and hurried out into the bitter February afternoon. Strange how fate worked. If she hadn’t been such a coward about facing Joel she would never have come into the café, and then she would never have bumped into Helen; never have revived all those memories she had sought so firmly to conceal. She was literally shaking with reaction as she unlocked her car and a small moan broke from her mouth. Would it never end? Would she ever be able to put the past fully behind her and enter into a normal relationship with a man? Would she ever be able to take and give physical pleasure without the ever-present crushing guilt and self-disgust she now suffered from.
Why it was Joel Hargreaves whose face she saw every time another man touched her and not her father’s she wasn’t really sure. Her father had been the one to condemn her; to insist that she was lying … but it was the memory of Joel Hargreaves that brought her out in a cold sweat and turned her sleep into horrendous nightmares. Simon had been exultant when he accidentally hit on the fact that she was still a virgin, but he wouldn’t be exultant if he knew why. He thought she was clinging to some silly outmoded convention of purity, whereas she knew the truth … that those cataclysmic events during her fifteenth summer had frozen and destroyed some essential female part of her; the pain of her humiliation so intense that it prevented her from allowing herself to feel anything sexual for any man.
By the time she drove through the gates of Winterly, Lissa had regained control of herself. As she stepped out of her Mini and walked towards the main door with long-legged grace no one could guess at the torment of emotional agony she had just endured, least of all the man watching her.
Joel’s mouth twisted sardonically as he looked at her. She reminded him of a glossy, elegant chestnut filly he had once owned. There was pride and beauty in every movement of her graceful body, and also a wariness that warned him that she had come prepared to do battle if necessary.
Joel Hargreaves wasn’t used to women keeping him at a distance; very much the opposite. What would have intrigued him in another woman, in Lissa grated on his nerves. He had known her since she was a teenager, and throughout all the years since she had treated him as though he were some vilely contaminated life-form.
He had once tried to talk to Amanda about it, but his sister-in-law had simply shrugged and said that Lissa was an odd girl.
Odd maybe … beautiful and extremely desirable, yes. In the past she had never allowed him to get close enough to know her, but now, dramatically the situation had changed. Telling himself that he was a fool for even thinking of resurrecting what should have been no more than a passing whim he went to let her in.
‘Lissa. You decided to come then.’
Lissa inclined her head coolly, praying that she had herself well under control. She was consumed by a wholly unfamiliar and extremely dangerous desire to give vent to the turmoil of feelings bubbling up inside her; to rave and scream at him that he and he alone was solely responsible for the destruction of her femininity … that she hated … hated and loathed him and that nothing … nothing would induce her to stay in his house.
As she followed him inside Joel caught the brilliant gleam of her eyes, and wondered if her anger was because she had had to leave her boyfriend for a weekend. Joel knew all about Simon Greaves. A very personable and persuasive young man.
‘I think we’ll talk in my study.’
Trust Joel to choose to do battle on his own home ground Lissa thought bitterly as he held the door open for her to precede him. She had visited Winterly on several occasions both when his parents lived there and since they had left, but this was the first time she had been in this particular room. The austerity of its furnishings were initially deceptive until one became aware of the intrinsic beauty of the antique desk and the silken beauty of the Aubusson rug covering the floor. A small display cabinet caught her eye and she held her breath for a moment awed by the collection of jade inside it.
‘You like jade?’
Joel was watching her, and for once she saw no reason to conceal the truth from him.
‘I love it,’ she admitted.
‘So do I. I started collecting it several years ago on a trip to Hong Kong.’ He moved towards the case and then stopped abruptly as the study door opened and a harassed looking middle-aged woman burst in.
‘Mr Hargreaves,’ she began without preamble. ‘I simply cannot have those children in my kitchen. The moment my back’s turned they’re into my cupboards, upsetting everything …’
She paused to take a break and Joel inserted smoothly, ‘Don’t worry about it, Mrs Johnson. I’ll soon have everything sorted out.’
‘Well I certainly hope so.’ Mrs Johnson seemed far from mollified and Lissa fought hard not to burst into impetuous speech and remind the older woman that if the children were being naughty it might possibly be remembered that they had only recently lost their parents and both sets of grandparents.
‘If you’ll just keep an eye on them for me while Miss Grant and I finish talking,’ Joel continued, to his housekeeper. ‘I promise you I’ll take them off your hands.’
She withdrew but with bad grace, muttering something under her breath about not being paid to look after children. When she had gone Lissa raised her eyebrows