Stronger than Yearning Read online

  Without lifting her head from the papers on her desk Jenna said calmly, ‘James and I are getting married.’

  For a moment there was silence, and then Maggie said weakly, ‘Tell me if I’m hearing things. You and James Allingham are getting married?’

  ‘That’s right.’ Jenna stood up and walked briskly over to a filing cabinet, pulling open a drawer. ‘Yes, that’s right…At the end of the month.’

  ‘But, Jenna…’ Maggie swallowed with visible effort, and asked helplessly, ‘Where have I gone wrong? Why doesn’t some gorgeous-looking millionaire sweep me off my feet and ask me to marry him?’

  Jenna could have told her, but instead she smiled rather grimly, and wondered what Maggie would say if she told her she was welcome to James and his millions just as long as she was allowed to keep the old Hall.

  ‘The end of the month? Rather a rush.’

  ‘James has business in the Caribbean, and he thought we might as well combine it with a honeymoon,’ Jenna told her, grudgingly appreciating James’s wisdom in suggesting his Caribbean trip as a good excuse for their haste.

  ‘Lucky you. He’s involved in a holiday complex development out there, isn’t he?’ Maggie asked, wrinkling her forehead. ‘Wow! Isn’t Richard going to be sick! Is there any chance of us getting any business from the complex?’

  ‘James is talking about using us as consultants for the more luxurious part of it,’ Jenna told her. ‘From what little he’s told me about the complex, I think most of it’s already completed.’

  ‘Richard will be sick,’ Maggie claimed positively with another grin. ‘This will beat the Spanish contract he’s got from Harry Waters into a cocked hat.’

  ‘If the contract actually comes off with Harry Waters,’ Jenna agreed. ‘You know what he’s like for wriggling.’

  ‘Mmm, but word on the grapevine is that he’s one of Richard’s backers.’

  So much for her accusation to James, Jenna thought wryly. She should have guessed that Harry Waters might have a hand in Richard’s defection. He had complained bitterly about her charges on more than one occasion in the past, and no doubt this was his way of getting back at her. She had sensed on the last occasion when she rebuffed him that she had made an enemy of him.

  At ten to one she was suddenly attacked by a swarm of butterflies busily fluttering in her stomach. At first she dismissed the reason for their presence and then when work became impossible she got up and walked tensely over to her window. There was no reason for her to feel in the least nervous. She and James had struck a bargain and that was all there was to it.

  By one o’clock she had managed to gain control of herself. When Maggie knocked softly on her door she was seated behind her desk, studying some papers.

  ‘James is here,’ her secretary told her, standing to one side so that he could walk into the room.

  He walked easily towards her, and by the time Jenna’s stunned mind had assimilated the fact that he did not intend to stop on the other side of her desk, he was already sweeping her up out of her chair.

  ‘Ready for lunch?’

  The question was innocuous enough in itself, but murmured against her mouth it had a totally overwhelming effect on her. Because of his grip on her arms it was impossible to step back from James as she wished, neither could she berate him for his outrageous behaviour with Maggie standing by, an avid spectator of what was going on.

  ‘I don’t think I’m very hungry.’ She said it stiffly, her body tense with rejection and anger. How dare he walk in here and treat her like this, when he knew what they had agreed?

  His laughter further infuriated her. She shot him a bitterly corrosive glare and tensed still further.

  ‘No, neither do I,’ he agreed wickedly, looking at her in a way that brought a wave of angrily disbelieving colour to her skin. How dare he look at her like that—as though he were already visualising her naked and in his bed, and in full view of Maggie too, when he knew quite well what they had agreed?

  For a moment, Jenna was so caught up in her own anger that she was completely unaware of anything else, including Maggie’s muffled, ‘Er…I think I hear the phone,’ and the hasty closing of her office door.

  The moment it did close James released her. Startled to be free she stepped back from him and almost immediately overbalanced as her heel struck the foot of her chair. As James reached for her she struck him away, her face hard with anger.

  ‘You know what we agreed,’ she seethed, backing away from him. ‘You——’

  ‘I remember.’ His voice unlike hers was perfectly controlled. ‘However, I don’t remember either of us agreeing that we would make the true nature of our marriage an open secret.’

  He was right, of course, but Jenna was beyond acknowledging that.

  ‘Oh, I see,’ she jeered, ‘the great James Allingham doesn’t want anyone to know that at least one woman doesn’t find him irresistible.’

  Imperceptibly his expression changed, hardened, anger and a certain degree of icy contempt killing the amusement that had been in his eyes.

  ‘What makes you so sure it will be my sexual appeal that will be held in doubt,’ he taunted softly. ‘Remember, you’re the one with the hang-ups about sex. It isn’t exactly a secret, how you feel about the male sex, Jenna. You’re going to have to be careful. If it becomes common knowledge that physically you can’t bear me anywhere near you, people are going to start to talk.’ He shrugged, watching her like a cat at a mousehole. ‘No one’s ever been in doubt about my sexual proclivities, but yours…No doubt there are quite a few unattractive motives the less charitable among the gutter-press writers could attribute to your agreement to marry me—they won’t hurt me, Jenna, but they could hurt you.’

  It was no less than the truth, but, God, how she hated him for bringing it home to her. She wanted to lash out at him physically, to destroy, to cause him the same anguish he had just caused her. And then the full meaning of what he had just intimated burst upon her and she cringed, physically and mentally. She had never been attracted to any member of her own sex, and his blunt suggestion that there might be those who would say publicly any different made her feel ill with inner anger. Why should anyone’s private life become a matter for public speculation? She knew reporters…once they thought there might be the slightest suggestion of any scandal in her life, they would start digging and they would not stop until…until they disinterred her sister.

  ‘Jenna!’

  James’s voice cut sharply through her tumultuous thoughts. ‘Dear God, that’s not——You aren’t——’

  Oddly enough he looked as pale and shaken as she felt.

  ‘No.’ She forced the denial from an aching throat, tense with pain and fear.

  She reached behind her chair for the jacket to the suit she was wearing, her back to him as she reaffirmed it. ‘No. There’s nothing like that.’

  He took her jacket from her and she suffered his helping her into it. ‘Where are we going for lunch?’

  ‘Wait and see.’

  With an ease that she resented privately he managed to find a cruising taxi the moment they stepped outside. Since Jenna got in first she didn’t catch what he said to the driver, but frowned in bewilderment when the cab stopped, not outside a restaurant, but instead outside Garrard’s, the Crown jewellers.

  ‘Come on.’ James helped her out, guiding her towards the main door. The commissionaire opened it for them and James murmured something to him.

  The commissionaire disappeared, and Jenna gazed at her surroundings, awestruck by such opulent magnificence. Before she had time to speak the commissionaire was back, another man behind him.

  ‘Mr Allingham,’ he greeted James with a courteous smile, ‘and this, of course, must be your fiancée?’

  Jenna forced a rather stilted smile.

  ‘If you’ll both come this way.’

  A private room had been put at their disposal. Jenna sat down in a deep, buttoned velvet chair still trying to get her breath as
a velvet tray bearing a selection of rings was presented for her consideration. Nearly all of them comprised diamonds and emeralds, and the reason for this was explained when James told her, ‘I specified emeralds this morning when I made the appointment, because of your eyes, but if you have some other preference…’

  Jenna had not, mainly because she had never given any thought to her choice of an engagement ring—not even since James had put his proposition to her. For some reason it had never struck her that he would give her an engagement ring. Her throat closed tightly in a mixture of pain and anguish as she stared at the exquisite rings presented for her consideration. She wanted to tell James that she had no need of an engagement ring, but she sensed that he would overrule her. To judge from the size and quality of the stones just one of those rings would cost far more than she needed to overcome her present cashflow problems, and a shaft of bitterness pierced her. Perhaps she should choose the most expensive-looking of them all, and then pawn it. Just for a moment she dwelt on James’s reaction to discovering she had managed to evade his trap by pawning the engagement ring he had bought her. It was frightening enough to make her shiver slightly.

  The gems in front of her shimmered and danced, cold green and white lights sparkling from them. They were all beautiful, but cold and empty—like her marriage would be. Suddenly, she knew she could not wear any of them. She turned impulsively to James shaking her head. ‘They’re all lovely…but…’

  James was frowning. The man on the other side of the small antique desk staring as though unable to believe his ears. If she refused a ring James would feel humiliated, Jenna realised suddenly. She had within her grasp the perfect weapon for hurting and humiliating him as he had done her on far too many occasions already. The words hovered in her mind, but instead she heard herself saying huskily, ‘James, I’ve always wanted to have an antique engagement ring. I…’

  It was almost funny how both male faces cleared as if by magic. ‘Of course,’ James was actually smiling at her. ‘I should have thought of that. My fiancée is an interior designer, with a special love of the Georgian period,’ he informed the other man.

  While Jenna was wondering how on earth James knew of her love of that particular period the sales assistant was beaming. ‘We have a beautiful Georgian ring in at the moment, sir. A client has asked us to dispose of it on his behalf. If you would give me a moment.’

  He wasn’t gone very long, returning with a shabby leather box which he opened and then put down on the table. Jenna caught her breath and then held it. Tears smarted weakly in her eyes, burning the back of her throat as she stared at the smooth circle of gold. An intricate and delicate setting had been woven in gold to display the ring’s one beautiful emerald. Although it was nothing like the modern stones she had seen with their sparkling diamond surrounds, Jenna sensed none the less that the stone she was looking at surpassed those others in its perfection. It had a depth and purity of colour that fascinated her, drew her, until she felt almost as though she could drown in its green depths. Its effect was almost mesmeric and she had to blink before she could tear her glance away.

  ‘It’s beautiful.’ She was whispering without knowing why she should do so.

  ‘And extremely rare,’ the salesman told her with a smile. ‘It’s been handed down through the same family since the days of Elizabeth I—at least the stone has: it was placed in its present setting during George Ill’s reign as a betrothal gift from the then owner to his fiancée. The present owner has no immediate family to hand it on to—by tradition it has been the betrothal ring of his family since Georgian times. He lost his fiancée during the last war and has remained alone since then.’

  Jenna looked at the ring again and shook her head regretfully. ‘It must be terribly expensive…’ She was using the words as an excuse and a defence. What really prevented her from sliding the ring on to her finger was the feeling that up until now it had always been given and worn with love, and somehow she could not tarnish all that the ring represented by allowing James to give it to her to seal what was only a business arrangement. Out of the corner of her eye she saw James shake his head at the other man.

  ‘I think we’ll leave it for now,’ she heard James saying easily as he stood up.

  As Jenna turned towards the door, James paused to say something to the sales assistant but Jenna wasn’t listening. She felt a curious numbness envelop her and she knew that if she had to wear an engagement ring, that was the one she wanted. Already she was half regretting her emotional decision, but as James took her arm and escorted her out into the main foyer of the jewellers’, she knew it was too late to tell him she had changed her mind.

  ‘I’m sorry to be so difficult to please.’ She made the apology in a stilted voice.

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’ James sounded quite relaxed and unworried. ‘If anything, it’s my fault, I should have given you more warning.’ He glanced at his watch and then indicated a wine bar a short distance away. ‘Would a quick lunch here be okay with you? I’m afraid I don’t have much time left.’

  ‘Fine.’

  They were lucky enough to find a double booth which was quite private. James had behaved so well over her reluctance to select a ring that Jenna was feeling almost guilty.

  ‘Will that fierce feminine pride of yours object if I tell you that I’ve made arrangements for us to visit my godmother this weekend?’ he questioned once they had their food. ‘I would have consulted you first, but when I rang this morning Maggie said you were busy. My godmother is getting on in years—she was very good to me when my mother first died and I know she would be hurt if I let her find out about us through the press. I also wanted to ask her if she would have Sarah while we’re away. She doesn’t live too far away from Lucy’s school, so if we can get all the arrangements for the wedding fixed up by the weekend, I thought we might possibly take Lucy out of school on Saturday afternoon, so that she can meet my godmother, and we can tell her about the arrangements for the wedding.’

  It all sounded so reasonable that Jenna felt she could hardly object.

  ‘The surveyor rang this morning and confirmed that there’s no real structural work necessary on the Hall,’ she told James when she had signified her agreement. ‘I had thought of going up there this week to earmark living accommodation for us while the contractors are working on the Georgian wing. What exactly will you need?’

  ‘A bedroom, of course…’ He glanced wryly at her. ‘I am assuming that I won’t be sharing yours, but if I could make the suggestion that they at least adjoin in some way so that it doesn’t give rise to too much speculation?’ Without waiting for her agreement he went on, ‘A sitting-room-cum-office…’

  ‘And somewhere for your computers, I expect.’

  ‘Well, I was thinking one of the cellars could quite easily be converted into a computer room. I had a look at them the last time we were there and they seem perfectly dry. I’ll need to go up there and have another look, but I can’t fit that in this week. Maybe next. Sarah will need a ground-floor bedroom, if that can be organised, and I think it might be a good idea if we had some sort of communal sitting-room—Lucy will expect to come home for the odd weekend, and for both hers and Sarah’s sake, I want to give our relationship as normal an air as possible.’

  Jenna could not see any problems with the accommodation requirements he was outlining—they were very much in line with her own thoughts on the subject. There was a very old-fashioned kitchen in the older wing which Sir Alan’s staff had obviously used, and a small breakfast-room off it. They could not move into the rooms in their present state, but Jenna believed with a little money and a lot of imagination she could turn what were at present very drab and offputting rooms into warm and pleasant living accommodation. In fact, she could already feel herself responding to the challenge of doing so, and with a small start she realised that this was the first time she had actually anticipated with pleasure the thought of designing a background for a family unit which included
herself. Forgetting her animosity towards James, she burst out impulsively, ‘There are several large cellars, maybe one of them could be converted into some sort of gym area for Sarah to help her exercise her legs?’

  ‘Good idea. In fact I’d already wondered about having an indoor pool built—a properly organised exercise room off it might not be a bad idea. When I’m in London I try to visit my gym twice a week at least.’

  He saw her expression and said coolly, ‘No, not out of vanity, I assure you. I happen to believe that it is the responsibility of every individual to maintain their own health and fitness…a certain amount of exercise is necessary to do that. No doubt in man’s cavemen days he got enough exercise to keep his body in good condition simply trying to exist; these days it’s rather different. Like most businessmen I tend to exercise my brain at the expense of my body, so I find a bi-weekly workout of double benefit—as well as keeping me physically fit, it helps to get rid of any aggression too. You should try it,’ he added suavely.

  Jenna fought down an urge to make a snappy retort and said equably instead, ‘You don’t have to convert me, I already agree with everything you’ve said.’ She made a wry face. ‘I try to get to a gym twice a week or so myself, but like all good intentions…’

  Her mind tracked back to the Hall. ‘I agree with what you say about a pool, but mightn’t it be rather difficult for Sarah to reach a separate pool and gym area in her wheelchair, especially once we get into winter?’

  She wasn’t sure what he planned but suspected he was talking about building a self-contained pool and exercise unit somewhere in the grounds. To her surprise, he shook his head and explained.

  ‘What I’d got in mind was to have a conservatory built on to the house at the back of the Georgian wing—something along the lines of the traditional orangeries that were so fashionable at that time. The pool would be sunk into the floor of the conservatory: the warmth of the water and the moisture from it would make it an ideal place to grow semi-tropical creepers and the like. I think it would make a very attractive spot to relax in on a cold, wintry day.’