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Revenge By Seduction
Alex Ryder
Catriona McNeil knew exactly what her future husband would be like: tall, dark, handsome…and loving. When she met Ryan Hind she thought she'd found her Mr. Right. He fitted all her criteria bar one– he didn't believe in love!After one night of reckless passion, Catriona had awoken to find the bed empty and her heart broken. But Ryan had met his match in the fiery redhead. She was determined to exact her revenge whatever the cost!



“The tongue may lie, Catriona, but the body can’t. There’s only one way to satisfy the longing we both have for each other.”
Catriona looked at him in desperate, heart-thudding silence. Her hands, which up till now had been hanging helplessly by her sides, now made a feeble attempt to push Ryan away. Feeling the warmth and firmness of his flesh beneath the thin cotton shirt, she couldn’t help herself, and her fingertips played over the rippling sinews and muscles of his back.
“You want me, don’t you, Catriona?” he asked huskily. “I want to hear you say it.”
ALEX RYDER was born and raised in Edinburgh and is married with three sons. She took an interest in writing when, to her utter amazement, she won a national schools competition for a short essay about wild birds. She prefers writing romantic fiction because at heart she’s just a big softie. She works now in close collaboration with a scruffy old one-eyed cat, who sits on the desk and yawns when she doesn’t get it right, but winks when she does.

Revenge by Seduction
Alex Ryder

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE
CATRIONA almost choked over a mouthful of coffee when she saw the picture in the morning paper. She clattered her cup down in the saucer and tried to stifle a groan. Well, there’d be no phone call now. That was one dream which would have to go into cold storage. Feeling sick at heart, she pushed her Sunday breakfast aside.
From across the table Madge regarded her through world-weary, morning-after eyes. ‘What’s wrong? Another scandal in high places?’
Catriona stared at the picture again. Oh, there was no mistaking that man! Tall, broad-shouldered and immaculately dressed. A rakish tilt to the dark eyebrows and a finely chiselled nose and jawline. The same genial smile on the wide, generous mouth.
For a moment her head spun and her heart thudded as she remembered how it had felt when he’d first taken her in his arms. She shivered as she recalled the delicious, nerve tingling instant his mouth had claimed hers…and later…when those strong, sensitive fingers had slowly begun to undress her…
She got a fierce grip on her emotions and murmured, ‘Nothing… It…it’s nothing, Madge.’
‘Huh! You’re acting pretty damn strange over nothing. Let me see that.’ She reached over and took the paper from her hand. After studying the picture, she read the text aloud. “‘Ryan Hind, the well-known, swashbuckling property tycoon, and Miss Diane ReesBoulter seen last night dining at Cardini’s in the West End. Diane is the latest in a seemingly unending line of attractive young ladies to be squired around the nightspots by London’s most sought-after bachelor. Can we look forward to the society wedding of the year in the near future? Don’t hold your breath.”’
She let the paper drop, then stared at Catriona in silence before raising her eyes imploringly to the ceiling. ‘Please don’t tell me that you’ve got yourself involved with that despicable excuse for a man! He’s every mother’s nightmare. I should never have gone on holiday and left you on your own.’ She heaved another sigh of sympathy. ‘Come on then, young lady. Tell me all about it.’
It was hard to believe how much of a fool she’d been, and even harder to admit it to someone else, especially Madge, who’d looked after her like a daughter. ‘I…I met him two weeks ago,’ she began in a subdued voice. ‘He…he was so charming…and before I knew it I’d accepted his invitation to dinner that evening.’ She toyed with her cup, reluctant to go on.
‘Well?’ asked Madge impatiently. ‘Then what happened?’
She drew a deep breath and took the plunge. ‘He sent a car round here to pick me up at seven-thirty. We had a wonderful dinner. Then he…he took me to his hotel and…and we spent the night together.’ She looked at Madge, her eyes pleading for understanding. ‘He was so kind and…and wonderful, and he made me feel that I was the most important thing in the world to him.’
She paused and swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth. ‘In the morning he was gone. There was a note on the bedside cabinet explaining that he’d had to leave early to catch the Paris plane but that he’d get in touch with me the moment he got back in a few days’ time. There was also a twenty-pound note for the taxi fare home.’ She swallowed once more. ‘I…I really did believe that he’d keep that promise to call me when he’d returned from France. And now…’ She pointed a quivering finger at the newspaper. ‘There he is as large as life with…with someone else!’
Madge shrugged. ‘So? Now you know the kind of creature he is. My advice to you is just to forget him. Believe me, you’re well rid of that rogue. He’s bad news.’
Catriona’s breathing became rapid and shallow as the full realisation began to slowly sink in. All those whispered endearments…the murmured promises and declarations of undying love…nothing but empty lies!
She clenched her fists as a cold rage gripped, then pierced her heart. For a moment she was too choked to speak, then she exhaled an explosive breath. ‘I’d never slept with a man until I met him! He took advantage of me and now he’s dumped and humiliated me! And you expect me to forget him!’ She managed to get herself under control, then laughed bitterly. ‘I suppose I’ve got no one to blame but myself. You’d think that at twenty-one I’d have more sense, wouldn’t you? Now I know what my mother meant when she warned me about coming to London.’
Madge stared at her in amazed disbelief, then reached for another aspirin, washed it down with a mouthful of black coffee, lit another cigarette, coughed harshly, and spluttered, ‘Are you telling me that you were a virgin? At twenty-one! My God! Were there no red-blooded men in that unpronounceable Scotch village you came from?’
‘Kindarroch,’ she muttered. ‘And the McNeils of Kindarroch never forgive nor forget an insult. If any of my kin ever find out what he’s done he’ll be deprived of the means of ever doing it to another woman.’
Madge gave a shudder. ‘Yes…quite… Well, it was some time back in the Jurassic age when I lost mine. He was the drummer in a rock band and I…’ She paused, then smiled wryly. ‘I’m turning into a boring old bag. I’ve told you all this before, haven’t I?’
Catriona nodded indulgently. ‘Yes, Madge, you have. I’ve heard every detail of your lurid past. No one could deny that you’ve led an interesting life. You should write a book about it some time.’
A scattering of ash spilled down Madge’s dressing gown as she laughed shrilly. ‘My dear girl, there are lots of people in this town who’d pay me a fortune simply not to write a book. But what the hell…I’m no tell-tale.’ She squinted at her through a cloud of smoke. ‘Mind you, I would have told you about Ryan Hind. Everyone in London knows about his reputation. I’ve even met him at a couple of those Chelsea bun-fights. Course, he never paid any attention to an old wreck like me.’
Catriona was still finding it almost impossible to accept the truth and her blue eyes looked at Madge in misty appeal. There was always hope, wasn’t there? ‘Are…are you sure about him, Madge? Is he really as…as bad as you say? I find it hard to believe. He seemed so sincere.’
Madge studied her thoughtfully, then gave a sigh and said quietly, ‘I’m a fool. I should have realised straight away. You fell in love with him, didn’t you?’ She saw the answering miserable nod and went on in a slightly bemused voice, ‘Good old-fashioned love at first sight. I thought it had gone out of fashion. But I was wrong. Now I know why you were still a virgin at twenty-one. You’re too principled to indulge in sex for mere pleasure. You would have to be in love with the man first. And of course you would have to believe that he was in love with you.’
Catriona felt too choked with embarrassment and anger to answer and Madge nodded in commiseration. ‘I’m afraid that your Mr Hind is every bit as black as he’s painted. There’s hardly a social event in this city where you won’t find him with some ravishing young beauty clinging to his arm. Never the same one two nights running, mind you. And even then I’ve been told you can almost see those shark-grey eyes of his searching out his next victim. The man is a womaniser of the worst kind. An absolute rake.’ She studied Catriona’s reaction in silence, then shrugged and muttered, ‘I’m only sorry that I wasn’t here to warn you about him.’
Catriona shook her head. ‘You needed that short holiday in the sun. I should have been able to look after myself.’
‘Oh, well, don’t blame yourself too much,’ Madge consoled. ‘I’d have probably been taken in by his lies myself at your age. He might be the worst thing to hit London since the Great Plague, but I must admit that he’s a handsome-looking devil.’
She studied the end of her cigarette for a moment, then said disparagingly, ‘They call him The Golden Hind. And it isn’t just because of his ability to make money. The Golden Hind was Sir Francis Drake’s ship, and we all know what a freebooting pirate he was.’
She took another draw at her cigarette and drawled, ‘The word around the West End these days is that he’s either doing it for a bet or he simply wants to see how many women he can seduce in a year. Trying to break some sort of record, I suppose. Personally I think he should be painlessly neutered so that women can go about in safety.’
‘Well, he made a mistake when he put me on his list,’ muttered Catriona darkly. She retrieved the paper and looked at the picture again. The anger burned in her throat at the sight of him and she said bitterly, ‘Cardini’s! That’s where he took me on the night it…the night it happened.’
‘He takes all his victims there,’ Madge said casually. ‘It’s his favourite restaurant. He has a table permanently booked there and Humphrey the head waiter has orders to shoot any uninvited guests on sight.’
Catriona studied the picture of the girl by his side. She was a slim blonde hanging onto his arm and gazing up at him in obvious adoration. ‘I’m sure I’ve seen this girl before,’ she said. ‘Her face is vaguely familiar.’
‘It should be. She’s one of the current “Chelsea set,”’ Madge said disdainfully. ‘They’ve all been in the shop at one time or another. Tailored suits and chiffon scarves. They go for the trendy female executive look, although I doubt if any of them has enough intelligence to hold down a job. When the Golden Hind dumps her, I for one won’t feel sorry.’
‘Well, I will,’ Catriona disagreed. ‘No girl deserves to be treated that way. We’ve all got feelings, haven’t we? We are not just put here as playthings to satisfy that man’s lust. He’s nothing but a moral degenerate who deserves to be smitten by the hand of vengeance, and I’ll be that hand if I only get half a chance.’
Madge raised delicate eyebrows. ‘Hmm… Very biblical language you Scots indulge in.’
Catriona felt a little sheepish after her outburst and she gave an embarrassed smile. ‘Aye. It comes from going to the kirk every Sunday and listening to the Reverend McPhee preaching fire and damnation from the pulpit. If he knew about me now he’d have me in sackcloth and ashes.’
‘I was never bothered by a conscience myself,’ Madge said brightly. ‘No doubt there’s a special place waiting for sinners like me, but in the meanwhile…’ She waved a negligent hand around the room. ‘I’ve been wise enough during my dissolute years to acquire this charming flat, a successful boutique in Chelsea and a nice little portfolio of shares for my old age. I never, ever met a man with whom I’d want to spend the rest of my life, but that never stopped me from using them for my own ends. Mind you, I never knowingly made an enemy, and most of those men and I are still good friends. I still manage to get invited to all the right places.’
Catriona regarded her with genuine affection. ‘I don’t care what kind of life you’ve led, Madge. To me you’ll always be an angel. Until I met you I was desperate and ready to slink back home with my tail between my legs. Then it all changed. You gave me a decent job and even a place to live. I’ll be eternally grateful to you.’
‘Well, you had such an honest face,’ Madge said with a grin. ‘You don’t see many faces like yours in London these days. In this day and age you have to learn to spot a fake at fifty yards or you get taken to the cleaners.’
‘Aye…’ muttered Catriona. ‘Just like I did.’
‘Oh, cheer up, girl! It isn’t the end of the world. You’ve got a broken heart and the world seems empty. But you’ll get over it. You’re young, but you’re a quick learner, and if you take my advice you’ll put this behind you and get on with your life.’
Catriona lowered her eyes. She didn’t want to hurt Madge’s feelings but Madge just didn’t understand. Where she came from such things were a matter of family honour, not to mention pride and self-respect. Ryan Hind had trampled that into the mud and one way or another he was going to pay. She didn’t yet know how she was going to go about it, but she’d find a way to make that man wish he’d never laid eyes let alone a hand on her.
Seeing Madge reach for the aspirin bottle again, she eased back her chair and got to her feet. ‘You were late home from that party last night and you’re still a bit under the weather. I know we were going to take stock in the shop today but I can quite easily do that on my own. Why don’t you just take it easy and have a day in bed?’
Madge looked at her gratefully. ‘That’s kind of you, dear. I’m afraid I can’t handle late nights like I used to. I’ll spend the day resting. But make no mistake, once my batteries are recharged I intend growing old disgracefully, so don’t order a Zimmer frame yet.’
Catriona cleaned up the breakfast things first, then tidied the lounge. Satisfied with her handiwork, she took a final look round, then smiled. When Madge had offered her a spare room in her flat at a nominal rent she’d never expected anything as grand as this!
Madge had taste and style. Period furniture and luxurious carpeting throughout, and double-glazed sliding doors led from the lounge onto a balcony offering a fine view over the river.
For a moment as she gazed out towards Chelsea Bridge she felt a brief tug of nostalgia for the wild seascapes and the rugged grandeur of the mountains surrounding Kindarroch, then she took a deep breath. Only losers allowed themselves to wallow in self-pity and homesickness.
She’d almost succumbed. Her first few weeks in London had been a heartbreaking round of menial, poorly paid jobs and a hunt for half-decent accommodation, and she’d been rapidly running out of money. It had only been because of Morag’s prediction that she’d meet someone who’d become a good friend that she’d stuck it out.
Of course, Morag had also said that she’d meet a rich, handsome man, but she’d neglected to tell her that he’d turn out to be a lying lecherous swine. But then perhaps she shouldn’t have taken Morag too seriously in the first place. It all seemed so long ago now, and yet it was only a couple of months or so since the day she’d decided to leave Kindarroch.

There were people in Kindarroch who’d have sooner walked barefoot over broken glass than cross the threshold of Morag’s cottage up on the hill, but Catriona wasn’t the least bit nervous.
The older generation, even her own mother, always spoke about Morag in whispers, after looking over their shoulders to see that she was nowhere around. Morag was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, so no one was surprised that she had the ‘gift’. She was a seer who had visions of the future. Well, that was quite acceptable in a culture where romantic myth and legend lived comfortably alongside satellite television and microwave ovens, but it was whispered that Morag could see right into your heart and mind. Naturally enough that made folk a little wary of her, because everyone has their little secrets, and they tended to avoid her eye as much as possible.
None of this bothered Catriona. As far as she was aware old Morag had never harmed a soul in her life and that was more than could be said about most.
She’d been on her way home from the post office when she’d spotted Morag ahead of her, bent over with a bag of shopping in each hand, and she’d caught up and offered assistance. And now that they’d reached the cottage it would have been churlish not to accept Morag’s invitation to come inside and have a cup of tea.
Morag removed her shawl and smiled gratefully. ‘Just put the bags down, Catriona, and make yourself comfortable while I go into the kitchen.’
She made herself at ease on a chair by the scrubbed pine table and looked around the tiny living room with mild curiosity. From the window you could see right across the harbour, empty now except for a few gulls waiting patiently on the sea wall for the arrival of a fishing boat. Towards the south the dark and jagged peaks of Skye were just visible above the hazy horizon.
As for the room itself, she found it faintly puzzling at first. It was clean, with everything polished to perfection, but it was so…so old-fashioned. It was like stepping into a time warp. That heavy wooden radio, for example. Casting her eye around, she saw that everything seemed to belong to the twenties or thirties.
Then she remembered the stories about Morag. It was said that she had come from one of the islands, sailing alone out of the morning mist into the harbour, a dark-haired, softly spoken girl of seventeen. She had fallen in love with a handsome young fisherman from the village and within a month they were married.
Then tragedy had struck. Two days after the wedding her new husband’s boat had been overwhelmed in a storm and all the crew had perished. Ever since that dreadful day she’d lived here by herself and it was said that she spent most of her time at the window staring out to sea awaiting the return of her lost love.
It was a story which always touched Catriona’s heart, but she’d often wondered… If Morag really did have the ‘gift’, why hadn’t she warned her husband not to sail that day? Then again, as some maintained, perhaps it had been the traumatic shock of losing him that had awakened the dormant power.
Once again she gazed around the room thoughtfully. Was this exactly how the place had looked when Morag had first set up her new home? Nothing added…nothing taken away…nothing changed from that day to this. Everything preserved and lovingly cared for. A shrine, in fact?
Suddenly she remembered something else. She’d been about eight years old at the time and a crowd of them had been playing down by the harbour. Jamie Reid had made a catapult and he was using the seagulls as target practice when Morag had descended on them.
‘Jamie Reid…’ she’d said in a soft, sorrowful voice. ‘Don’t you know that every seagull has the soul of a drowned sailor awaiting to be born again?’
It wasn’t the sort of thing eight-year-old kids thought about, but she’d never seen Jamie playing with that catapult again.
She stopped her reminiscing and got to her feet as Morag came through from the kitchen bearing a tray. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ she asked politely.
Morag smiled. ‘You’ve helped enough as it is. I’m still not too old to look after a guest.’
She smiled back and watched in silence as Morag poured two cups of tea. The knuckles on the crooked hands looked swollen and arthritic and she wondered just how old Morag really was. She had to be seventy-five at least. Her face was wrinkled, and yet in spite of her apparent frailty you could feel the inner strength and vibrant energy of the woman.
‘Well, now…’ Morag said, lowering herself carefully into a chair opposite. ‘It’s a while since I’ve seen you, Catriona. You’re quite the young lady now. Twenty-one, isn’t it?’
‘Aye. A month ago.’
Morag nodded and smiled. ‘You always were a pretty girl, but you’re even prettier now that you’re a woman. You’ve the sky-blue eyes of your mother and the red hair of your father. A McNeil if ever I saw one. And how are they both keeping, these days?’
‘Och, they’re fine enough, Morag. Like everyone else up here they’re just waiting for the fishing to get better so that folk have a bit of money in their pockets.’
‘Aye…’ Morag sighed and looked towards the window. ‘Times are hard, right enough. I dare say they’ll be a bit upset at first when you tell them you’re leaving.’
Catriona’s cup stopped halfway to her mouth and she blinked in astonishment. She hadn’t confided to anyone about the feelings of frustration and restlessness which had been tormenting her for weeks now. In fact it was only this very morning, while she’d been waiting in the queue at the post office, that she’d finally made up her mind to leave Kindarroch and try her luck down south.
‘How…how did you know?’ she managed faintly.
Morag’s eyes twinkled. ‘We’ll just call it a guess. Anyone can see that a girl like you shouldn’t have to waste her time in a backwater like this, just hoping for the best. For the last ten years anyone with an ounce of ambition in them has gone south where the opportunities are.’
Catriona accepted the explanation. ‘I suppose you’re right. There’s no work to be had in Kindarroch, that’s for sure.’
‘And not much chance of a girl finding a husband either,’ Morag added innocently.
Once again Catriona was jolted by surprise, and she quickly covered her embarrassment with a self-conscious laugh. ‘I really haven’t been giving it that much thought.’
‘Haven’t you?’ Morag asked, regarding her with fond amusement. ‘Well, if you say so. But I’ve an idea there’s a rich and handsome young man out there just waiting to fall in love with a girl like you.’
Catriona smiled in embarrassment. ‘Away with you. You’re just teasing. Anyway, he wouldn’t have to be rich…or even that handsome. I’d settle for someone with a kind heart, nice teeth and a sense of humour.’
Morag gave a nod of approval. ‘Aye…I know you would. So where are you thinking of going?’
She’d been trying to make her mind up about that. ‘I’m not sure. Edinburgh or Glasgow, I suppose. They’re not so far away that I can’t come back and visit my folks any time I feel homesick.’
Morag shook her head. ‘You’ll find what you’re looking for in London, and you’ll be far too busy to feel homesick.’
‘London!’ Her blue eyes widened doubtfully. That was the south of England! Another planet as far as she was concerned. She was about to reject the idea out of hand when something made her pause. Morag had sounded so sure of herself.
‘Why London?’ she asked cautiously. ‘I don’t know a soul down there.’
Morag merely smiled. ‘Donald could give you a lift the next time he takes a load of fish to Inverness. There’s an overnight train from there that would get you to London the next morning.’
If Morag did know anything she was keeping it to herself, and Catriona still looked doubtful. ‘I…I don’t know… I’ve a bit of money saved up but I hear it’s a terribly expensive place to live.’
Morag closed her eyes for a moment, as if deep in thought, then she opened them and said with quiet confidence, ‘You’ll manage. I know you’ll have a hard time at first, but I’ve never met a McNeil yet who’s afraid of a challenge. Anyway, you’ll meet someone who’ll become a good friend. She’ll help you to find your feet.’
She didn’t much like the sound of the first bit and she frowned. ‘Excuse me, Morag. What exactly do you mean by a “hard time”?’
Morag leaned across the table and patted her hand affectionately. ‘I just mean that it’s never easy when you suddenly find yourself in a strange place…amongst people you don’t know.’ She glanced towards the window again, her eyes distant. ‘I remember how I felt when I first came here from the islands.’
Catriona wondered if she should be taking this seriously. Shouldn’t she just humour and play along with this eccentric but sweet old lady and then be on her way, having done her good deed for the day?
‘Aye. I suppose there’s something in that, Morag,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m not expecting a bed of roses.’ She finished her tea, then rose and said brightly, ‘Perhaps I will go to London. And if I do meet this wonderful man you say is waiting for me I’ll be sure to write and let you know.’
An odd little smile played on Morag’s lips. ‘There will be no need for that, Catriona. I’ll know well enough when it happens. Now you’d better go home and break the news to your parents.’
As things turned out she put off telling her parents until after supper that evening. Suddenly the only sound in the room was the heavy ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece as they both stared at her in silence.
She sighed. ‘Well, don’t look so surprised. You must know it’s been on my mind for some time.’
Her parents looked at each other in resignation, then her father nodded. ‘Aye, lass. We can’t say it’s come as a great surprise.’ He toyed with his pipe, then cleared his throat. ‘Where are you thinking of going?’
‘London.’
‘London!’ exclaimed her mother in horror. ‘But that’s so far away!’ She appealed to her husband, ‘Tell her not to go. You’re her father. She’s only a child!’
‘I’m an adult now,’ Catriona reminded her gently.
Her mother sniffed. ‘Barely. You’re still a child as far as I’m concerned.’
‘Oh?’ She smiled. ‘Aren’t you forgetting that you were only eighteen when you married Dad? I dare say that Gran said the very same thing about you.’
Her mother sniffed again, but her father chuckled. ‘She’s got you there, Jean. And a bonnie bride you were.’ He grinned at his daughter. ‘Don’t worry, lass. Your mother doesn’t think you’re ready for London, but I’m wondering if London is ready for you.’
‘I hear it’s an awfully wicked place,’ her mother warned, ‘Gangsters and drugs and terrible tap water you have to filter before you can drink it. Anyway, you were born and raised here. You’ll get lost. And all your friends are here.’
‘And they’re all in the same boat as me,’ she replied. ‘There’s no work here and I’ve been a burden to you long enough. I can’t let you go on supporting me for ever. I’ve got to stand on my own two feet.’ She smiled at both of them, then said quietly, ‘Besides, I don’t want to end up an old maid. You’ll be wanting grandchildren, won’t you?’
‘Aye…’ her mother said wistfully. ‘But I’d always hoped that one day you and Jamie Reid would…’
Catriona gave a snort to indicate what she thought of a man who still let his old mother fetch the coal from the back shed.
‘She’s right,’ her father agreed. ‘There isn’t a lad in Kindarroch I’d want for a son-in-law. All the good ones leave here the first chance they get. They know there’s no future in the fishing now. They’ve all gone south to work in banks or factories.’
Her mother sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right. I even heard that the Harbour Hotel might soon be up for sale. Trade is that bad.’ She looked at Catriona sadly. ‘There’s no use me trying to make you change your mind. You’re just like your father. The McNeils always were a stubborn lot.’
Catriona gave her a kiss on the cheek, then hugged her. ‘That’s why you married one, isn’t it? Maybe I’ll be as lucky as you were. Old Morag seems to think so.’
It had been said in all innocence but her mother gave a start and her eyes widened. ‘When did you see Morag? Is she the one who’s been putting this idea into your head?’
‘Och, no,’ she answered lightly. ‘I helped her home with her shopping this morning and when we got there she invited me in for a cup of tea.’
There was a shocked silence then, ‘You were inside her house?’
‘Aye. And I dare say you’d have done the same if she’d invited you. Anyway, I’d already made up my mind about leaving and I swear on my life I hadn’t told anyone. But she knew.’
Her father scratched his head in amused wonder. ‘Aye…that’s Morag for you. There isn’t much goes on around here that she doesn’t know about.’
‘She has the second sight, right enough,’ her mother agreed in a respectful whisper. ‘It’s no wonder that the poor wee minister takes to drink whenever he sees her.’ She paused, then asked with bated breath, ‘What’s it like inside her house?’
Catriona reassured her. ‘Well…it’s very old-fashioned but everything is clean and polished. And there wasn’t a black cat or crystal ball or black candle in sight, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘Oh…’ It was a sound of disappointment. Then, ‘So what exactly did she tell you?’
‘She just said that I had nothing to worry about because I was a McNeil and the McNeils had always known how to look after themselves.’
Again her mother sounded disappointed. ‘Is that all?’
‘Isn’t it enough?’ she asked, skilfully avoiding a direct answer. ‘Haven’t you always said that she has the “gift” and that she was a person you could trust?’
‘It’s good enough for me,’ her father said firmly. He bowed to the inevitable with good grace. ‘We’ll organise a wee going-away party for you in the hotel bar the night before you leave.’
Her mother bit her lip, then nodded and gave a tired smile. ‘Aye…I suppose you’re right, Catriona. I always knew this day would come. But you’ll come back and see us as often as you can, won’t you?’
‘Of course I will, Mum.’ She hugged and kissed them both, then turned away quickly before they could see the tears forming in her eyes.

CHAPTER TWO
WHEN the flat was cleaned and tidied to her personal satisfaction Catriona peeked into Madge’s room. Madge was snoring gently, and, careful not to disturb her, Catriona closed the door quietly. Then she put on her coat and locked the flat door as she went out.
The shop was only a ten-minute walk away. Since it was Sunday, a day usually spent lounging around and resting, Catriona was dressed informally in jeans and a loose white cotton sweater. And in spite of the ache in her heart she also wore her usual air of friendliness as she exchanged good mornings with the regulars she was beginning to recognise. Old Nellie who ran the florist shop next door to the boutique was busy setting up her usual brilliant display on the pavement outside and she ordered a bunch of flowers, telling Nellie she’d pick them up when she was finished.
She made herself a cup of coffee, then, arming herself with a stock sheet from the cubby-hole which served as an office, she began checking the inventory in the rear stock room.
The jaunty, carefree smile which she’d worn on the way here had merely been a front. Now that she was alone the mask had slipped, and there was a hard bitterness in her eyes and the downturn of her mouth.
She tried her best, but ten minutes later she felt like giving up. At any other time stock-taking was a chore she could breeze through in half an hour, but this morning she was finding it impossible to concentrate. Her mind just wasn’t on the job. It was too preoccupied with dark feelings of betrayal and seething anger.
How could she have been so stupid as to fall for that black-hearted devil? So the McNeils could look after themselves, could they? Well, here was one who obviously couldn’t. Had she surrendered herself to him so willingly because beneath all her pride she was nothing more than a gullible Highland peasant girl who still believed in the folk tales of her race? Tales about magic and dark lovers and old women who could foretell the future. Had she wanted to believe that Ryan Hind was the man she was destined to marry? Was that the reason she had so carelessly fallen in love with him? Had she been her own worst enemy?
The seemingly random hand of fate which had brought them together had been in the shape of a young teenage tearaway causing chaos and posing a threat to life and limb as he’d hurtled along the pavement on a pair of rollerblades.
Catriona had managed to leap out of his way just in time to save herself from being knocked flat. It had been more of a sideways stagger, but the end result had been a collision with the tall stranger who’d just emerged from the estate agent’s office.
‘Oops!’ she’d gasped, the breath almost knocked out of her. His arms had held her securely and she’d stammered an apology to the knot of his silk tie, which had been all she could see of him at the time.
‘I…I’m sorry.’
The deep, warmly resonant voice seemed to wash over her. ‘I’m not. You’re welcome. So far this has been the highlight of my day. You can drop into my arms any time you want.’
She was about to tell him resentfully that she was quite capable of standing on her own two feet, and that there was no need for him to clasp her so tightly, when she strained her head upwards and changed her mind. Strikingly handsome was the first thought that came to mind. Beneath dark, ironically tilted brows the eyes were a startling light grey, alive and sharply observant. It was a face which instantly evoked visions of romantic encounters under the starlit skies of far-off deserts. It was a face which would cause any woman’s heart to flutter nervously.
‘Are you hurt?’ he asked in concern.
The sound of that voice sent little shivers through her again, and she managed to shake her head. She could smell him in her nostrils. The faint hint of aftershave…the fresh, laundry smell of his blindingly white shirt.
The noise of the rush hour traffic dimmed in her ears and she was oblivious of the people jostling by to catch their buses home. She was alone with him in a pool of silence, struck dumb and absolutely smitten.
His eyes continued to stare down into hers, making her more dry-mouthed than ever. ‘With any luck that young thug will break a leg before he causes a serious accident,’ he remarked in annoyance.
At last she managed to say breathlessly, ‘Yes. It…it isn’t safe to walk the streets these days. Some people are so inconsiderate, aren’t they?’ Now that had been a really brilliant observation, hadn’t it? she thought. Why couldn’t she have thought of something witty, or at least more interesting to say? But it was hard to be cool and sophisticated when you were feeling hot and flustered. And he still hadn’t loosened his grip on her.
‘You look a little shaken and pale,’ he observed, then added in a voice which brooked no argument, ‘What you need is a brandy. Come on.’
Her lips opened in a half-hearted attempt to protest, but nothing came and she allowed herself to be led gently but firmly the few yards along the pavement to the nearest bar. It was not until she found herself being ushered into a seat at a secluded table in the lounge that she managed a nervous stammer. ‘I…I don’t like brandy. And I really don’t think…’
‘Whisky, then? I insist you have something.’ He eyed her paternally. ‘Purely for medicinal purposes only.’
She smiled weakly, overwhelmed by the charm and force of his personality. ‘All right, then. A small one. Glenlivet…and some mineral water, please.’ That was how the English tourists drank it at the harbour bar, much to the amusement of the locals, so it seemed the sophisticated thing to do.
He summoned a waiter, gave him the order, then sat down facing her. Reaching across the table, he introduced himself. ‘I’m Ryan Hind. And you are?’
‘Catriona McNeil,’ she murmured politely. His hand was firm and cool and sent a tingle up her arm.
He repeated her first name to himself softly, then smiled. ‘Very pretty. Suits you admirably.’
She was acutely aware of the way his sharp eyes were assessing her appearance, and the thought passed through her mind that a man like him would never have given her a second glance if he’d met her before Madge had taken her under her wing and given her some tips on style and fashion. It was Madge who supplied the clothes she wore, insisting that it had nothing to do with generosity and everything to do with the image of the shop.
At the moment she was wearing a loose-fitting pearl-grey jacket over a cream silk blouse, and her red hair had been groomed and styled to frame her face and fall in a languid curve to her shoulders.
His eyes continued to study her in a silence which she began to find more embarrassing by the second. Her wits seemed to be deserting her and her left leg had suddenly developed a nervous tremble. God knows what kind of impression she was making on him, she thought desperately. A half-witted schoolgirl could have done better.
‘It…it’s rather nice in here, isn’t it?’ she said, making a desperate stab at conversation. ‘I pass this place every day but it’s the first time I’ve ever been inside.’ Oh, God! If that was the best she could do she might be better keeping her mouth shut.
One dark eyebrow rose in obvious interest. ‘You live here in Chelsea, do you?’
‘Yes. Palmerston Court. It’s only a few minutes’ walk from here.’
He nodded. ‘I know it. A very exclusive and desirable property. I’ve been thinking of buying a flat there myself. I’m needing some place permanent. And you would definitely recommend it—as an investment, say?’
She was beginning to recover her scrambled wits. Could it really be possible that this gorgeous man was actually interested in her? It seemed unbelievable, and yet… She reviewed the past few minutes since they’d met. One moment she’d been strolling home, minding her own business, and the next she’d been thrust in-elegantly into his arms. It had been a highly unlikely start to a meaningful relationship, yet stranger things had happened. He could simply have smiled politely, released her and let her go without another word. But he hadn’t. He’d held her tightly, expressed concern, brought her here for a drink, asked her her name, paid her a compliment and found out where she lived. Now he was asking her advice! Oh, there was no doubt about it. This was Mr Right and no mistake. If this wasn’t love then why did she feel six inches off the ground?
He was still waiting for her answer and she gave a tentative self-conscious smile. ‘I don’t know much about property. You’d be better asking an expert.’
The suggestion brought a cynical smile to his lips. ‘There’s no such thing as an “expert” in the property business these days. I’ve always found that it pays to get your information from the people on the ground, as it were. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to show me over the place some time? Do you have a flatmate or…parents you’d have to ask?’
‘My parents live in Scotland,’ she said quickly, then added a little defensively, ‘I’m old enough to look after myself.’
He seemed amused. ‘I’m sure you are, Catriona. I admire a spirit of independence. So you live in London all by yourself, do you?’
At the moment, while Madge was on holiday, she did, and some devil within, urging her to project an image of maturity and self-reliance, made her keep silent about Madge. Thankfully she was spared the necessity of an outright spoken lie by the arrival of the waiter with their order.
Forestalling any further questions on that subject, she busied herself by daintily topping up her whisky from the bottle of mineral water.
The grey eyes watched her with amused interest, then he said with approval, ‘I’m impressed and pleased to see that you didn’t order some ghastly cocktail garnished with a paper umbrella. A nice malt whisky instead. You’re obviously a lady of discernment.’
The compliment gave her a warm glow. He said the nicest things…and with such sincerity. She was a lady. A lady of discernment, no less! And he had such lovely white teeth when he smiled. Oh, it was too much. He was bound to have a girlfriend somewhere. Quickly pushing that unwelcome thought aside, she raised her glass and sipped far more than she’d intended. Immediately she felt it go to her head. At least the water had quenched the fire of the spirit and she was mercifully spared the embarrassment of having a coughing fit.
‘Do you have many friends in Chelsea?’ he asked casually. ‘An attractive girl like you surely has a boyfriend or two.’
‘Oh, no,’ she assured him quickly. Perhaps too quickly. She paused and assumed an air of nonchalance. ‘At least nothing to write home about.’
‘So there’s no one special in your life?’
She shrugged. ‘Not really.’ Her heart was hammering away inside her chest.
‘London can be a very lonely place,’ he commented quietly. ‘You must have some kind of social life, surely?’
She didn’t want him getting the idea that she was some kind of stick-in-the-mud, a stay-at-home, so she said blithely, ‘Well, there’s the usual round of parties. You know what Chelsea is like. There’s always something going on.’
He grinned and seemed satisfied. Suddenly he glanced at the expensive gold watch on his wrist and she felt the stab of cold disappointment. He was going to finish his drink, make some excuse, then be on his way—and she’d never see him again. Was it because of something she’d said? Had he seen through her lies…even if they had just been little white ones?
What did a woman do at a moment like this? she asked herself desperately. Simply shrug off her disappointment? Console herself with the thought that he wasn’t meant to be the one, after all? Perhaps fate had someone else in mind for her, and that was a pity because she was quite willing to settle for him here and now. Given such a short acquaintance it might be foolish to imagine that she was hopelessly already in love, but how else could she explain this wild beating of her heart?
He still had that oddly penetrating and quizzical look in his eye when he asked suddenly, ‘Are you sure you’ve quite recovered, Catriona?’
She managed a bright smile. ‘Yes. I’m fine, thanks.’
‘Well, I’m glad to hear it.’ He gave a sigh of regret. ‘I’d love to sit here and chat all day and get to know you better, but I’m afraid I have to leave. I’m meeting a client back at my hotel in fifteen minutes.’
She knew it had been too good to be true. Somehow she contrived another cheerful smile. ‘Please don’t let me keep you from your work. You’ve been very kind and I appreciate it, Mr Hind.’
‘Good. Then perhaps you’d like to show that appreciation by having dinner with me this evening?’
She replaced her glass on the table, stared at it stupidly for a moment, then looked up to see if he was serious.
‘Th—this evening?’ she stammered.
‘In two hours’ time, to be exact,’ he said pleasantly. ‘But if that’s too short a notice for you I can arrange it for later.’
‘No!’ she said quickly. ‘I mean…I’m sure I can manage that.’
‘Good,’ he said briskly. Then with a devastating smile he added, ‘It’s been one of those days. Dinner with you will make up for everything.’
Her mind was racing ahead. What would she wear? Did she have anything remotely suitable for a dinner date?
‘I’ll leave the choice to you, Catriona,’ he said gallantly. ‘I usually dine at Cardini’s but perhaps you’d prefer French…or Italian?’
‘Cardini’s will do fine, Mr Hind,’ she answered lightly. She had no idea what Cardini’s was like, but if a man with his grooming and style ate there regularly it was sure to be first rate. He’d probably be wearing a dinner jacket and bow tie, and God knows what she was going to wear but she’d think of something.
He flashed another smile. ‘Enough of the Mr Hind. Call me Ryan.’
She hoped she didn’t look as flushed as she felt when she smiled back. ‘Very well…Ryan.’ Seeing him glance at his watch again, she hurriedly finished her drink then said, ‘I, too, will have to be going.’
His hand claimed her arm lightly as he escorted her outside. At the doorway he paused. ‘I’ll send a car to pick you up at seven-thirty. Will that be all right, Catriona?’
‘Yes…’ Her voice had gone husky with excitement. ‘I…I’ll tell the security man in the foyer to look out for it.’
He smiled again, then turned, and she watched him stride off. For a moment she simply stood there, hardly daring to believe what had happened. Something was bound to go wrong. He’d change his mind. She’d get all dressed up and sit waiting for a car which would never show up.
But then again perhaps he really did mean it, and he would send a car, and she’d damn well better be ready just in case. But what was she going to wear?
With a sudden flash of inspiration she hurried back to the shop and let herself in. Telling herself that Madge would understand, she made straight for the reject corner in the stock room.
She found the dress she wanted and held it at arm’s length, then swallowed nervously. Would she dare wear this? Strapless, in pale green Chinese silk, it carried a top designer name and a price tag that would have bought a good second-hand car.
To the casual observer it was a sublime creation and worth every penny, but to eagle-eyed Madge who’d spotted the tiny imperfection in the hemline, it was worthless. As in all such cases she’d immediately got in touch with her supplier, who invariably told Madge to get rid of the items in any way she saw fit. Madge usually donated them to the charity shops in the East End. It tickled her sense of humour to think of some poor old cleaning lady going to work in a five-hundred-pound coat she’d bought for next to nothing.
Catriona found a matching silk stole, then she wrapped them up, let herself out of the shop and rushed back to the flat.
The internal phone buzzed at seven-thirty precisely. She answered it breathlessly, then rushed over to the window and saw the long black limousine drawn up in the forecourt below. Then, breathing deeply to calm herself, she took one last look at herself in the mirror.
When she’d first tried on the dress she’d eyed her reflection in despair. She’d never have the nerve to go out in this! She couldn’t wear a bra—not that that was a problem with the way it clung to her figure—but the amount of flesh and cleavage on display could only be justified in front of a husband or doctor. But it certainly looked stunning. She’d turned this way and that, getting used to the idea.
Now she completed the outfit with the stole and one of Madge’s coats, borrowed for the occasion, then took the lift down to the foyer where Charlie, the security man, had to look twice before grinning and wishing her a pleasant evening.
In the back of the chauffeur-driven car she glanced at herself in the vanity mirror. Although she wore no make-up except for a touch of lipstick, her colour was high. It was nerves, she told herself. High as a kite. She’d have to relax.
She’d have to try and be smart and sophisticated, like the women who came into the shop. They drawled their words and called everyone ‘dahling’ and…well, perhaps she needn’t go that far…they had what she supposed was style.
Could she carry it off or was she going to blow it? Was she just going to sit throughout the evening overawed and tongue-tied until he got bored to death with her company?
She scowled at her reflection, then felt gooseflesh on her neck as she imagined she heard the voice of Morag whispering in her ear— ‘I’ve never met a McNeil yet who’s afraid of a challenge.’ She blinked and drew a deep breath. Voices in her head? That was all she needed! Still, Morag had been right. This was a challenge, and win or lose she was going to give it her best shot.
The traffic in the West End was in its usual state of chaos, but soon enough the limousine drew up outside the restaurant. The chauffeur opened the rear door for her and as she stepped on to the pavement the restaurant doorman came over and tipped his hat. ‘Miss McNeil?’
‘Yes?’
‘Mr Hind is expecting you.’
He led her into the foyer, where a cloakroom attendant took charge of her coat and stole, then on into the restaurant proper, where the dignified head waiter took charge and escorted her through the length of the room towards a table in a quiet, exclusive corner.
Her stomach began to flutter nervously as she took in her surroundings. The hushed, refined dignity of the place was almost intimidating. Silver, gleaming under candlelight…the subdued murmur of conversation…the discreet clink of bottles against wine glasses…the plush Victorian decor…
Suddenly there he was, resplendent in dinner jacket, just as she’d imagined. He rose to his feet with a welcoming smile. ‘Catriona.’ He looked her over with approval. ‘You look stunning in that dress!’
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, glowing inwardly at the compliment. Encouraged by his reaction, she smiled as she sat down. ‘I’m glad you like it. It was a problem making up my mind what to wear. I only decided on this at the last moment.’ Oh, you wicked little liar! she thought. She could hardly believe she’d said that.
The waiter handed her a menu but she brushed it aside. ‘I’ll leave the choice to you, Ryan. What would you recommend?’
His mouth twitched in humorous acknowledgement of her faith in his judgement and he said promptly, ‘Duck in orange sauce. It’s the chef’s speciality.’ When the waiter had gone with the order he continued, ‘I took the liberty of ordering a decent wine before you arrived. If it’s too dry for your liking I’ll have them bring something else.’
She wouldn’t have cared if it was cold bathwater, she thought as she watched him pour a glass. Raising it to her mouth, she took a delicate sip, savoured it for a moment, then nodded and dabbed daintily at her lips with her napkin. ‘Very nice,’ she murmured. ‘Just the way I like it.’ Would you just listen to her? She, who wouldn’t know the difference between claret and cooking sherry!
She took comfort from the fact that she wasn’t really deceiving him. It was just that since she’d accepted his invitation she was obligated to see that she didn’t spoil his evening. She had to make an effort to make herself sound agreeable and interesting. And it was working! She could tell by the way those eyes of his seldom left her face.
There was one sticky moment, when he asked her whereabouts in Scotland her parents lived.
‘Oh, you’ll never have heard of it,’ she said casually. ‘It’s called Kindarroch. In the Western Highlands. Nothing much goes on up there.’
‘And that’s why you decided to come and live in London?’ he suggested with an understanding smile. ‘You certainly don’t look like one of the hunting, shooting and fishing set. I somehow can’t see you tramping over the estate in gumboots with the Labrador at your heels.’
Estate, she thought? Who’d mentioned anything about an estate? Still, if he wanted to believe that she was one of the minor Scottish aristocracy that was fine by her. When they got to know each other better they’d laugh about it together. But it only went to prove that she seemed to have ‘style’ after all.
He had lovely hands, she thought as she watched him refill her glass. Well-formed and well-manicured, sensitive, yet strong and competent-looking. He had a thick gold ring set with a ruby on his little finger.
There was something else she was beginning to notice about him, and that was the aura of power and unspoken authority evident in the relaxed way he conducted himself. His mere presence seemed to dominate the room. The hovering waiters were always ready with a fresh bottle or a clean napkin at his slightest gesture. And she doubted if there was a woman in the place who didn’t keep glancing towards him.
Looking back on it now, she still wasn’t clear how she’d ended up back in his hotel suite. It was true that the wine had gone to her head, but she remembered agreeing enthusiastically with him when he’d said that the night was still young and that it would be a pity to end their new-found friendship when the meal was over. It had been words to that effect, anyway, but the undeniable fact was that she had been out of her depth and completely under his spell. She’d been captivated…enthralled…enraptured… And the thought of the consequences had never entered her head.
It had only been when they were in his spacious, luxurious lounge, and he’d removed his jacket and tie and invited her to kick off her shoes and make herself comfortable, that she’d had the first stirrings of doubt about the situation she’d landed herself in.
Well, it was too late now, wasn’t it? she’d thought. And, anyway, the man was a gentleman—anyone could see that. If he became over-amorous she would make it quite clear to him that she wasn’t that kind of girl and he wouldn’t push the matter. He’d probably respect her all the more, wouldn’t he?
As he’d poured a couple of drinks at the built-in bar he’d pressed a remote control. The lights had dimmed and soft music came from hidden speakers. Looking around, she hadn’t failed to be impressed by the size and sheer luxury of the place.
‘Do you always stay in hotels like this?’ she asked with a frown. ‘It must be terribly expensive. Wouldn’t it be cheaper to have a flat of your own?’
‘Cheaper, yes,’ he agreed. ‘But not nearly so convenient.’ He handed her a glass, then raised his hand to stroke and feel the soft texture of her hair. ‘A man only needs a house if he feels the desire to put down roots, Catriona. But that only happens if he’s lucky enough to find a very special woman. Some woman to share his life and his dreams of raising a family.’
The backs of his fingers were lightly brushing the soft, tender skin of her neck and the glass trembled in her hand. ‘I…I’m sure you will, Ryan,’ she said with the breath catching in her throat. She suddenly needed to sit down…badly…but his eyes were holding her with an enervating magnetism.
‘Yes…’ he breathed softly. ‘Perhaps I already have, Catriona. I was giving up hope until now.’
‘W-were you?’
‘Why do you think I asked you about the flats in Palmerston Court?’
She gulped. ‘As…as an investment, you said…’
He smiled at her innocence. ‘Let’s just say that the instant fate thrust you into my arms I knew my dreams hadn’t been in vain.’ He gently removed the drink from her shaking hand and placed it beside his own on the coffee table, then he took her by the shoulders and looked down into the depths of her wide blue eyes.
Her mind was a chaotic mess of emotions. Was he truly telling her that she was that ‘special’ woman? Well, why not? Love at first sight was a fact of life, wasn’t it? It might be the stuff of romantic dreams and fairy tales but it did happen. It had happened to her, so why shouldn’t it happen to him? Those impossibly clear and luminous grey eyes were filling her vision now, and all sense of critical judgement was swamped by her desire to believe him.
His voice was suddenly low and husky with desire. ‘You’re a very beautiful woman, Catriona. I’ve never seen lips that look so kissable and tempting as yours. They have the power to drive a man into mad impulsiveness.’
His arms pulled her closer until she was crushed against him, so hard she could feel the strong, steady and relentless beat in his chest, then her own heart skipped and began to race as his mouth slowly descended on hers. The contact of warm, sweet and yielding flesh drove every thought from her mind and she abandoned herself to the thrill of his sensual provocation. A low moan bubbled in her throat as his tongue parted her lips, exposing her to a hitherto unknown and unguessed at height of passion.
The kiss left her dazed and breathless, and she rested her head against his shoulder, seeking time to recover. He kept holding her in the imprisoning embrace of his arms, then he began nuzzling at her ear with his lips.
In a hoarse whisper he said, ‘I’d be less than a man if I didn’t confess and tell you that there is nothing in this world I want more than to make love to you, darling. No woman has ever made me feel this way before. You have a beauty I can’t resist. I want to make wonderful love to you, Catriona. I want to give you all I have to offer. We can give each other so much pleasure and happiness. I want to possess you and never, ever let you go.’
She closed her eyes tightly and bit down on her already swollen lip. How could she reject that passionate plea from the heart or ignore the promise in his words? Could she allow her old-fashioned conscience to stand in the way of an honestly declared love?
The choice was simple. She could tearfully refuse, grab her coat and scamper to safety like a timid rabbit, or she could be mature about this and do what every throbbing and aching nerve in her body was demanding.
She felt the slight tug as he undid the zip at her back, and as the silk dress slid down over her slim body to fall in a whisper at her feet she turned her face upwards, seeking his lips once again, certain in the belief that all this had been written in the stars.

CHAPTER THREE
MADGE called into the shop and dragged Catriona off to lunch, leaving the part-time assistant to hold the fort for a couple of hours.
The food at the Wheatsheaf was always excellent, but the meal was in danger of being spoiled, for Catriona at least, by the snatches of loud conversation drifting from the two women at the next table.
‘…sent the damned thing back to him, dahling. I mean…he knew I wanted a Jeep as a run-about. Everyone has a four-wheel drive these days…’
‘…a nice figure, I grant you. But who the hell is she? I heard that her father is a pig farmer down in Essex!’
‘…bald and hopeless in bed, but he has this marvellous luxury cruiser in the Med. So naturally I…’
They made Catriona squirm. If you stayed in this part of London long enough you began to recognise the type. Usually in their early twenties, they were full of shallow pretensions and mannerisms and their empty lives revolved around social position, money and sex—in that order.
When they finally got up and left she looked across the table at Madge and said in exasperation, ‘Did you hear them? What an exhibition of conceit and arrogance and sheer…’
‘Yes, dear,’ Madge said mildly. ‘I think everyone heard them, and now they’re hearing you.’
‘Hmph! I don’t care. I feel better getting it off my chest.’ The chicken in honey and ginger sauce tasted better now, and she savoured a piece before commenting bitterly, ‘You won’t believe this, Madge, but I tried to model myself on women like them when I went out with Ryan Hind. I thought it was the way to attract men. I was trying to be smart and sophisticated.’
‘Well, you certainly attracted him, didn’t you?’ She fixed Catriona with a stern, reproving eye, then relented. ‘I’m sorry. That was a crass thing to say. But it’s been over a month now since you found out the truth. You should be over it by now.’
Catriona sighed and stared at her plate gloomily. ‘I’ve tried to forget it…put it down to experience as you suggested…but I can’t. I…I lie in bed at night and he’s there in the darkness, whispering his lies in my ear. When I close my eyes I see his face and his treacherous smile. And when I do manage to get to sleep he’s still there, haunting my dreams.’
Madge looked at her dryly. ‘That sounds to me like you’re still in love with the rogue.’
She looked up, startled. ‘In love with him!’ Her voice cracked in protest. ‘After the way he treated me!’
‘Oh, you’d be surprised at the folly of some women,’ Madge proclaimed, helping herself to a large sip of vodka and tomato juice. ‘They just can’t resist playing with fire. The worse a man’s reputation the stronger the attraction. They delude themselves into believing that all it needs to make him change his ways is the love of a really good woman.’
Catriona lowered her eyes, then viciously stabbed at another morsel of chicken, wishing it was Ryan Hind’s heart. Still in love with him! That was rich!
‘Look…’ she said, after a moment. ‘You invited me here to lunch, and I’m sure it wasn’t just to sit and listen to me moaning about my troubles.’
‘You’re wrong,’ Madge announced with a smile. ‘That’s exactly why I brought you here. But before we go into that…’ She delved into her handbag and laid a small gift-wrapped box on the table. ‘That’s for you, my dear. A small token of my appreciation.’
Catriona gave her a puzzled look, then with curiosity began to undo the wrapping.
‘I dropped in to see my accountant this morning,’ Madge informed her. ‘He tells me that the takings in the shop have gone up twenty per cent since you began working for me.’
‘Oh? Well, that’s good news, but I’m sure I can’t take all the credit,’ Catriona said modestly. ‘It’s more likely to be that new range of Italian skirt-suits we’re stocking. They’re selling like hot cakes.’
Madge dismissed her protest with a wave of a well-manicured hand. ‘Credit where it’s due. The customers really like you, my dear. I’ve watched you in action. You’re not pushy and you’re always pleasant. More importantly, though, you’ve got a natural instinct for good taste. If a customer chooses something that doesn’t suit them you tell them straight to their face.’ She gave a throaty chuckle. ‘Oh, I know some of them get the hump and march out with their noses in the air—you see, they aren’t used to shop girls doing that sort of thing—but they come back a few days later, and the word spreads that they’ve finally found a shop which puts its reputation before sales figures.’
‘Well…if you say so.’ Catriona murmured, secretly pleased. The wrapping was off now and she opened the lid. Her eyes widened and she gasped as she removed the gleaming gold bracelet from its bed of black velvet.
‘It’s beautiful!’ She looked at Madge self-consciously. ‘It…it must have been awfully expensive. You shouldn’t be giving me presents like this! It’s embarrassing.’
‘Don’t tell me what to do with my money, young lady,’ Madge admonished her with a fond smile. ‘That little bauble is meant to cheer you up and get you back on form. You haven’t been your usual bright-eyed self lately, have you?’
She accepted the rebuke with a weak smile of apology. ‘I…I suppose not.’
‘You’re damn right you haven’t. And the reason is obvious, isn’t it?’ Madge paused, eyed her thoughtfully for a moment, then asserted dryly, ‘That really must have been a night to remember if it’s still got you glassy-eyed after all this time.’ She leaned across the table and lowered her voice. ‘So tell me…woman to woman…are all the things I’ve been hearing about him true?’
‘What things?’ Catriona asked warily.
‘Is he as good in bed as they say he is?’
A question like that would have shocked her a month ago, which only went to show how sheltered and innocent her life had been in Kindarroch. But this was London and this was Madge, and between them both she was rapidly getting an education.
‘Can’t we discuss this tonight back at the flat?’ she asked in a frantic whisper.
‘No. I’m going away for a couple of days. I’m catching the evening flight to Paris. An old flame of mine has invited me over for a house-warming. He’s just bought a château.’
Catriona smiled to herself. Madge seemed to have enough old flames to set fire to a rain-soaked forest. ‘That sounds exciting,’ she said. ‘I hope you have a nice time.’
‘I will.’ Madge assured her. ‘He’s a sweet old thing. Now answer my question. Satisfy my curiosity. How would you rate Ryan Hind as a lover?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ she answered stiffly. ‘He was the first and quite possibly the last lover I’ve ever had, so I’ve no one else to compare him to, have I?’
Madge gave a delicate cough. ‘Pardon me. I was forgetting. Well, let’s put it another way. Did he make the earth move, as they say in novels? You don’t have to go into the details. A general impression will do.’
There was no way of getting out of this. Madge could be like a terrier after a rabbit when she wanted to. Catriona almost blushed, but managed to remain calm in spite of the memories and passionate emotions the question evoked.
Her strongest emotion was one of guilt at the willingness with which she’d surrendered. But there was also the undeniable fact that her own awakened sexual desire and the apparent loving tenderness he’d used to inflame that desire had been a combination impossible to resist.
His touch had been electrifying, and as his hands had explored and moulded and caressed every contour of her body she’d closed her eyes and let herself drown in a warm sea of sensual delight and rapture. She’d felt the vigorous hardening of his own yearning as he’d crushed her to him, then she’d clung to him in a fever as he’d lifted and cradled her in his arms and carried her to his bedroom.
His loving had been slow and exquisitely controlled, turning every nerve into incandescent flame until at last he’d thrust deeper and faster and brought her to a heart-stopping, dizzying climax. She’d gasped and moaned and raked her fingers down his back, only half hearing his own groan of satisfied release.
Suddenly she was brought back to earth by the sound of Madge’s amused voice, ‘All right! That dreamy look on your face says it all. Then I can take it that the stories about his prowess are all true?’
Catriona cleared her throat and said primly, ‘I was the only one wearing L-plates that night. He certainly seemed to know what he was doing.’
Madge raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, I should bloody well think so, considering the amount of practice he gets!’
Catriona toyed with her fork and wished that Madge would change the subject but Madge didn’t.
‘What puzzles me,’ she went on, ‘is why you were so surprised when you saw his picture in the paper and discovered that he was going with someone else. Surely you must have had your suspicions about him when you awoke in the morning and found your taxi fare on the table? I mean…how much of a hint does a girl need?’
She bit her lip, looked at Madge helplessly, then shook her head, more in wonder at her own innocence than anything else. ‘No…I didn’t. He’d already told me that he was a busy businessman and I thought that since I’d still been asleep he’d left me undisturbed out of consideration. And, anyway, there was that note promising to get in touch with me as soon as he got back.’ She gave a laugh of self-mockery. ‘That shows the kind of fool I was, doesn’t it?’
Madge regarded her with sorrow. ‘Your misfortune was to fall in love with him. Any other girl would have realised that he’d only been looking for a one-night stand, but you’re so guileless and innocent. I don’t like saying this, dear, but you’re going to make an even bigger fool of yourself if you keep on brooding about it like this. You have your whole adult life ahead of you. All men aren’t like Ryan Hind. Some day you’ll meet someone decent, who really loves you, and you’ll get married and raise a lovely family.’
‘And how can I tell if a man is decent or a…a rat like him?’ she demanded hotly. ‘I was wrong once and I could be wrong the next time, couldn’t I?’ Her face hardened. ‘Well, there won’t be a next time. I’ll make damn sure of that.’
Madge sighed in frustration. ‘It’s just as I feared.’ She pressed her lips together, then said, ‘You, young lady, are in danger of turning into a disillusioned and sour old maid. We’ll have to do something about that before it’s too late, won’t we?’
Catriona stared at Madge in silence, her blue eyes perplexed. This was her own personal problem…a problem of her own making, caused by her own stupidity. Madge’s sympathy was understandable, but she was acting as if she was the one who’d been betrayed.
‘You are suffering from a personality crisis,’ Madge went on relentlessly. ‘You’re beginning to lose your sparkle and your youthful exuberance, and that’s bad for business.’
Bad for business? She gave Madge a long, perceptive look, then smiled wryly. ‘You’re a terrible liar, Madge. That isn’t the reason at all, is it?’
Madge returned the smile, then shrugged. ‘I know, but the truth is too embarrassing to admit.’
‘Huh! I doubt if you’ve ever been embarrassed in your life.’
‘No. I don’t suppose I have,’ Madge admitted cheerfully. ‘But then I’ve always been a selfish bitch. The only person I ever really cared about was myself. But they say that every woman has a mother instinct. Well, mine has been about twenty years late in arriving, so let’s just say that I’m trying belatedly to make amends.’ She paused, and for a moment her eyes were filled with a sadness that suddenly made her seem vulnerable, then she brightened up. ‘Just look on me as a shop-soiled old fairy godmother who hates to see you unhappy.’

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