more firmly about her breasts, not quite as awake as she would have liked to have been, the pain-killers seeming to have left her with a slightly muzzy feeling in her head.
She took the coffee-cup from the other woman, spilling some of the hot liquid into the saucer as her hand shook slightly. ‘Sorry,’ she grimaced. ‘This is much appreciated.’ And it was, for her mouth felt like sandpaper.
She decided to ignore the reference to her name; it had already been discussed enough, one way or another! But sipping the coffee made her realise she had a sudden urgency to find a bathroom!
Her suitcase was just visible behind the bedroom chair, and she had no reason to suppose any of her things had been unpacked and placed in the spacious drawers of the dresser. And, unfortunately, the last time she had seen the wrap she had brought with her it had been strewn across the road soaking up muddy water like a sponge. In fact, most of her clothes had been doing the same thing. But she could hardly stay in this bed forever!
In fact, she couldn’t stay in it another minute longer, with her predicament becoming more and more desperate by the second!
‘My dear?’ Mrs Howard seemed to sense her discomfort, if not the reason for it.
Jane’s smile was strained. ‘I don’t seem to be wearing a nightgown, and—well, I need to …’
‘Oh, my dear, how thoughtless of me!’ The other woman instantly looked contrite. ‘Your things are all laundered downstairs. Mr Quinlan explained about the catch breaking on your case, and all your beautiful clothes getting muddy. I’ll just pop down and get them,’ she reassured her.
Jane waited only as long as it took the other woman to leave the room before struggling out of bed and into what she could see was the adjoining bathroom.
She was more than a little shaky on her legs, and each movement across the room was an agony, but she finally made it, her relief immense once she had done so.
She could think clearer now too and, although her accident the night before had delayed her returning home to Jordan, it had only done so for that one night; now she would have no choice but to go back. She had been so sure she could succeed on her own a week ago, but now she was defeated, knew he was right—that she needed him and the money to survive.
She closed her eyes in shame at the pained memories of the last week—of one rejection after another, one humiliation after another. She had been so sure she could look after and support herself, and instead she had found how ill-fitted she was to do the latter, at least. And without the qualifications and means to support herself she wasn’t capable of being independent.
Of course, there were a lot of young women in London who couldn’t get a legitimate job and who therefore found some other means of supporting themselves, but even going back to Jordan had to be better than that alternative. Better the devil she knew than ones she didn’t know, she had decided last night when she’d packed up to go home. Much as she hated the thought of Jordan’s gloating self-satisfaction in being proved right about her dependence upon him.
The housekeeper still hadn’t returned to the bedroom by the time she had finished in the bathroom, and so Jane hobbled as best she could across the room, giving a gasp of horror as she caught sight of her reflection in the dressing-table mirror. Her hip seemed to have turned all the colours of the rainbow now, the bruising having spread further and deepened.
She might not want to stay in bed, but she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to bear the pressure of normal clothing against her tender flesh.
She looked at her reflection critically, trying to see her body from a man’s point of view. Her skin was quite tanned—it was summer, after all—and she had the usual smattering of freckles that most people with her colouring were afflicted with, although not so many that it could be thought unattractive. Firm breasts were tipped with delicate coral pink, fuller than her other slenderness would imply, but proudly uptilting. Her waist was slender, her hips boyish, her legs surprisingly long and well-shaped for her five-feet-two-inch height. Like a long, leggy filly, Jordan always said.
Jordan. Jordan. Jordan. She had never realised before quite how much notice she took of the things he said to her.
‘You really are a bloody mess, aren’t you?’ said an impatient voice from behind her.
A voice she recognised only too well!
She gave a yelp of dismay before crossing the room to the sanctuary of the bed and the protective bedclothes, and looking accusingly at Raff over the top of the snowy-white sheet.
She hadn’t heard his approach or the bedroom door opening, but there he stood, larger than life in the daylight, the fitted denims low down on his hips, the dark blue shirt he wore making his eyes look darker.
But he still made her think of Heathcliff, his dark hair tousled and inclined to curl, his skin ruggedly tanned.
‘Here.’ He held up the clothes that were draped over his arm, derisively taking pity on her. ‘But I’ve seen it all before, you know,’ he drawled mockingly.
In Technicolor!
Her cheeks felt hot at the thought of this man’s hands on her body. Had her nakedness left him unaffected? Probably. He didn’t give the impression he found her in the least attractive. It wasn’t the reaction men usually had to her vivid colouring.
‘In that case——’ she sat up on the bed, baring her shoulders and back ‘—pass me my robe, would you?’ She held out her hand for the garment, her gaze unflinching.
Admiration slowly darkened his eyes and, although slow in coming, he actually smiled! ‘I wonder just who you are, Jane Smith?’ he mused softly.
Her head went back at this direct challenge, her defensive action turning to puzzlement as his expression became harsh, and his narrowed gaze rested on the flowing fire of her hair as it fell forward across her breasts.
‘I mean to find out before you leave here,’ he told her curtly.
Jane felt a shiver of apprehension, instantly dismissing the emotion as being ridiculous. She didn’t know exactly where she was, but she could leave any time she wanted to. Couldn’t she …?
‘Where did you come from last night?’ Raff demanded to know. ‘Where were you going to?’
‘I don’t think that’s any of your business,’ she snapped resentfully, well aware of what a disadvantage she was at, her robe having been placed over the back of the bedroom chair with her other clothes, way across the other side of the room. As Raff very well knew!
His eyes were still narrowed, his arms crossed in front of the broadness of his chest. ‘You gave your address at the hospital last night as being a hotel, but you must have lived somewhere before staying there?’
He was being deliberately provocative, almost insulting. ‘Raff …’
‘Who was he, Jane Smith?’ he pushed, not waiting for her to finish.
‘Who was who?’ Jane frowned.
‘Your wealthy lover!’
‘My——?’ Jane choked with indignation. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ she gasped.
He
