style="font-size:15px;"> ‘And I thought they’d all deserted me,’ drawled a deep lazy voice from behind them.
Trisha’s face flushed with dismay as she looked guiltily at the man standing a few feet behind Hazel. ‘Rafe!’ she exclaimed.
‘That’s right. I thought I might find you here, Hazel,’ he spoke to her rigid back. ‘Aren’t you going to turn around and say hello?’ His voice hardened.
Hazel had tensed as soon as she heard his voice, his deep drawl unmistakable. Rafe was standing just a few feet behind her, tall, attractive, arrogant Rafe. Yes, he was standing just behind her—and she couldn’t move! Her legs felt frozen to the spot and she just couldn’t move!
How could she face him again, remembering everything that had passed between them? She hadn’t seen him for three years, he would be a stranger to her now, a tall scarred stranger who had taunted and cajoled her for most of her twenty-one years.
But she had to face him, had to show him, as well as herself, that she wasn’t afraid of him. He would be a complete stranger to her now, but she had never understood him that well. He was too deep for her unsophisticated mind, too sensual for her unawakened innocence to take in. But three years had passed since their last meeting, three long years during which she had grown up.
Yes, she had to face him now, if only to prove to herself that she could do it.
SHE stiffened her shoulders, turning slowly, her gaze going straight to that scarred face still strangely dominated by taunting blue eyes. A deep scar ran from temple to jawbone on the left side of that dark compelling face, a scar dangerously close to the eye, although that appeared uninjured. Besides, James hadn’t mentioned an eye injury. The scar continued down the firm column of Rafe’s throat until it was obscured by the navy sweat-shirt he wore.
The scar gave him a rakish appearance. And while she realised it must have been very painful at the time, Hazel agreed with. Trisha, it did add to his attraction. He looked more devilish than ever. And women have always been attracted by that which offers a challenge.
He was leaner than she remembered, his thick black hair worn longer, well over his collar, although it suited his dark arrogance. Those deep blue eyes still mocked and scorned, the cynical twist to those firm lips was more pronounced.
He stood facing her, legs apart, arms folded in front of his muscular chest, challenge in every muscle and sinew of his powerful body. Hazel felt herself stiffen under that challenging gaze. So it was to be a fight as before! Well, she wasn’t quite the inexperienced teenager she had been before her stay in America.
‘Hello, Rafe,’ she said obediently, time enough to show him her newly acquired confidence at a later date.
His mouth twisted into the semblance of a smile, the scarring even more pronounced. ‘Not a very affectionate greeting after three years’ absence. Can’t you do better than that, Hazel?’
‘What do you want me to do?’ she snapped angrily, her poise momentarily forgotten. ‘Get down and grovel at your feet?’
He laughed outright at her outburst, a deep throaty sound that she found attractive even against her will. ‘Still the little hell-cat,’ he drawled softly, moving forward with long easy strides, moving with all the stealthy grace of a jungle cat.
He was standing directly in front of her now, looking down at her through narrowed considering eyes, the jagged discoloured skin on the left side of his face clearly visible to her. ‘I think a kiss might be more in keeping with our relationship, don’t you?’
Hazel wrenched herself away from the mesmerising effect of the warmth of his body, drawn to him by the masculine smell of a hard day’s toil and the long cheroots that he smoked constantly. She had been wrong before, nothing had changed! Rafe still disturbed her with the emotions he evoked in her soft traitorous body that wanted to be crushed against him, everything else forgotten.
She had thought herself over this stupid infatuation she had always had for Rafe, that Josh and men like him who had existed in her life during the last three years had wiped out these childish fantasies. But they hadn’t! One look at Rafe as he stood there, so self-confident, so arrogant, so basically male, told her that everything was as it had been before. Except perhaps that Rafe seemed more withdrawn from her than ever, more distant somehow—if that were humanly possible.
‘We don’t have a relationship,’ she answered tautly.
Both of them had forgotten Trisha, which was perhaps as well. She had quietly escaped out of the schoolroom at the first opportunity, feeling an unwanted third.
Rafe nodded. ‘Maybe we don’t.’ One long hand moved up to run the fingers lightly over his scarred cheek. ‘Not a pleasant sight, am I?’
It was a statement, not a question, and Hazel’s eyes darkened. ‘I would never have thought you a man to be full of self-pity,’ she flung at him.
He smiled at her, a smile completely without humour. ‘Oh, I’m not, not now anyway. Don’t try any of your amateur psychoanalysis on me, little Hazel Stanford$$ keep that sort of rubbish for the people who really need it. I’ve grown quite used to looking at a monster every morning in the mirror when I shave.’
She looked down the length of his strong body. ‘I thought you had a limp too?’
‘Oh, I do, when I’m tired,’ he confirmed mockingly. ‘All I need is the hump on my back and I could standin for the Hunchback of Notre Dame.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! You’re certainly not ugly.’ Far from it!
‘Like I said, Hazel, save that sort of thing for the people who need it—or who actually believe it. I don’t. Now, I think we’ve talked that subject out, let’s talk about something less personal to me. Is your visit to be a short one?’
She licked her suddenly dry lips. ‘That depends on you, doesn’t it?’
Rafe shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘In just over a week’s time I can neither make you stay nor make you leave.’ He grimaced at their surroundings. ‘Let’s get out of here—I never did like school as a child.’
‘I can believe that. You’re exactly the type I would expect to have played truant.’
‘I did most days. I always enjoyed swimming in the cove to sitting at a desk all day.’
‘And yet you want to keep this school open.’ Hazel walked at his side back towards the house, the long safe way round this time.
‘You’ve found out a bit in the short time you’ve been back,’ he commented. ‘I want to keep the kids in this area for as long as possible. It’s for their own good in the long run.’
‘Oh, I agree with you, although I’m not sure some of them would.’
He turned to face her. ‘It’s important that some of them learn to love the beauty and naturalness of this area. And they can’t do that living away in the towns. If only a few of them learn to appreciate it that’s enough for me. I won’t be here for ever. If I should die tomorrow do you think Celia would keep the Savage estate
