Dark Enemy. Anne Mather
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Sir Harold sounded less amiable. ‘Steady on, Jason,’ he said shortly. ‘You aren’t chairman yet, you know.’
Jason breathed hard through his nose. ‘Harold,’ he said tightly, ‘I want Nicola King back in England at the earliest opportunity.’
Sir Harold cleared his throat. ‘Are you ordering me, Jason?’
Jason sighed. ‘Hell, no, Harold! Look, try to see it my way, if Paul needs a feminine shoulder to cry on, let him take himself off to Gitana like the rest of the crew. Why should he bring his girl-friend out here? I warn you – the men won’t like it.’
Sir Harold’s amiability returned. ‘Now I know you’re joking, Jason,’ he said, chuckling. ‘You know damn nicely, Nicola’s not interested in Paul.’
Jason ran a hand across his forehead. He was tired and in need of sleep, and Sir Harold’s words were not making sense any more. Making a last attempt to understand the situation, he said:
‘Okay, okay, Harold. Why is she here?’
Sir Harold seemed to hesitate. ‘Well, she’s a pretty good secretary, Jason. She’s worked in my office for the last eleven months, and I’m pretty sure you need some help with those reports. Don’t deny that they’re always late in arriving. Look here, the girl wanted to come out with Paul, and while I know it’s irregular, well – I’m sure you can handle it.’
Jason shook his head, finished his lager and signalled to Ali to provide him with another. ‘How long am I expected to keep her here?’ he said tautly. ‘I warn you – this is your responsibility, not mine.’
Sir Harold sniffed. ‘Well, I must admit, you’re a pretty ungrateful devil, Jason,’ he said broodingly. ‘Anyway, Nicola has another assignment. She’s to keep an eye on Paul for me. I don’t trust that boy out of my sight.’
‘Short of running amok in a harem, there’s little trouble he can get himself into here,’ returned Jason sarcastically. ‘Anyway, to introduce more mundane problems, I’m happy to state that the men return to work tomorrow.’
‘Ah, you’ve seen Mohammed, then?’
‘Yes, this afternoon.’
‘What percentage?’
‘Three.’
‘Good, good!’ Sir Harold sounded delighted. ‘You’ve done well Jason. I’m immensely pleased. I’m sure the board will be, too.’
Jason grimaced. ‘Don’t I warrant a bonus?’ he asked dryly.
‘You surely do.’
‘Then take the girl back!’ Jason’s tones were flat.
‘Give her a chance, Jason,’ exclaimed Sir Harold. ‘Heck, she’s just arrived. Let her prove herself. Don’t be so stubborn!’
‘Prove herself?’ Jason shook his head again. ‘You’re losing me again, Harold. Okay, okay, leave it for now. I’ll handle it. I’m too tired right now to argue with you.’
Sir Harold hung up chuckling, and after he had replaced his receiver Jason sat staring at the phone with puzzled eyes. It wasn’t like Sir Harold to be so obtuse. What in hell did he think he was doing? Unless he imagined that by sending a suitable applicant out to Castanya he might persuade him to give up his bachelor status. For long enough Sir Harold had been trying to get him settled. Maybe this was his final effort. Even so, it was an unsatisfactory solution, but the only one he could come up with.
IN the absent Caxton’s bungalow, Nicola King was taking a shower. The water which sprayed from the tank was warm, but invigorating, and she moved beneath its spray sensuously, loving the feel of the water against her hot skin. Despite the primitive conditions she was experiencing a sense of well-being and satisfaction. She was here, at Castanya; and there was absolutely nothing Jason Wilde could do about it.
She smiled as she recalled his outraged anger when he had discovered her presence on the site. Perhaps he had had enough of women for the time being, but she intended to see that he changed his mind. And then …
Her expression hardened. Jason Wilde would find out that there were still some things he had to learn. He was so big, so powerful, so arrogantly assured of himself. Well, she would change all that. Just how, she was not sure. But she would find a way, of that she was certain. After all, everything had gone according to plan so far. She was here, when everything had been against her achieving such a thing. She gave a slight grimace. It hadn’t been easy. Sir Harold had had to be persuaded, cajoled, gently flattered. He was a man like other men. And Nicola knew she was a woman men found attractive. Besides, there had been a sense of power in controlling a man like Sir Harold Mannering.
She turned off the shower, and stepped out of the cubicle. Wrapping herself in the voluminous folds of a huge bathsheet, she wound it sarong-wise round her body and walked into the bedroom. Seating herself on the bed, she began to brush her thick hair until it was a sleek corn-coloured curtain about her shoulders. As she studied her appearance in the mirror of the dressing table she felt a faint twinge of regret, of conscience, almost. Was that hard-eyed creature intent on revenge really herself? Was she really determining to wreck a man’s life? Where was her warmth and gentleness? Where was the eager young woman with confidence in herself and a zest for life?
She looked away from her image. That girl was gone – for ever. Banished by the careless actions of the man she had met only half an hour ago. Not that he was aware of the havoc he had wrought in her life. She doubted very much whether he was aware of the full extent of the havoc he had wrought in her sister’s life. But he would become aware of it, of that she had no doubt. And when he did – then she would have her revenge.
She dressed in a slim-fitting shift of apricot cotton, left her hair loose about her shoulders, and applied a little eye-shadow and some lipstick. It was no good endeavouring a full make-up. The heat would cake foundation applications to her skin in no time.
As she was completing her toilet she heard a tapping at the door of the bungalow, and she emerged into the hall, and called ‘Come in!’
Graham Wilson came through the door, smiling broadly. ‘Well?’ he said cheerfully. ‘Did you find everything you needed?’
Nicola smiled back. ‘Yes,’ she said, nodding. ‘Thank you.’ She glanced into the lounge. ‘Won’t you come in? I think there are some drinks in the cabinet there.’
Graham flushed. ‘Er – no, thanks, if you don’t mind. Jason is expecting you, and I think we ought to be going.’
Nicola nodded understandingly. ‘Ah, I see. Mr. Wilde. You find him a hard taskmaster?’
‘Heck, no!’ Graham was youthfully vehement. ‘Jason’s a grand chap to work with. All the fellows like him. But he hasn’t much patience with late-comers, and he knows I came to collect you.’
Nicola