Taming Jason. Lucy Gordon

she said. ‘Tomorrow we’ll discuss your treatment.’

      She was afraid that he might mention her room again, but he made no reply and she left quickly.

      It was good to be alone. So far the day had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. She went downstairs and out for some fresh air.

      There was a stiff breeze that set the daffodils dancing. Elinor pulled her coat about her and headed into the wind. She would confront the last of her ghosts, and drive them away, she reasoned.

      But the ghosts were wicked and mischievous, lying in wait around every corner. There was Simon, a smiling boy, his arms open to her. And there, running to him, was the most painful ghost of all—her own younger self, brimming over with happiness.

      Suddenly she pulled up short and pressed her hand over her mouth to stop the anguish welling out. She leaned against an oak tree, clutching it for support while memory shook her. It might all have been so different.

      After a while she drew a long breath, lifted her chin and walked on.

      It had been high summer when she’d come here last, and the season had reflected the joyous flowering of love in her heart. Now it was late March, the moment when winter turned into spring. The trees were still bare, although a close look would have shown the buds ready to burst into fresh life, but she didn’t see them. For her, spring had never come again.

      The big house stood on a hill, looking out over the grounds and beyond them the valley, as though the Tenbys must keep everything beneath their watchful eyes. A beautiful building of honey coloured stone, with elegant proportions, it had been built three hundred years ago by a Tenby with money to spare. Down in the valley was the town of Hampton Tenby, dominated by Tenby & Son, an engineering factory that was the largest employer for miles.

      The Tenby family motto was Beware the Lion’s Roar, and it had perfectly summed up their power. Now it seemed even more fitting for Jason—a lion whose wounds had made him dangerous.

      The wind was getting up again and the light was fading fast. The feeble sunset turned the windows to gold. Blind eyes, staring out over the countryside. Elinor shivered.

      Six years of not allowing herself to feel anything had left her unprepared for the conflicting emotions that tore at her now.

      Jason Tenby had destroyed her. If she’d wanted revenge she could have had it today in the sight of his misery. But she wasn’t vengeful, merely cold and tired, and wishing with all her heart that she’d never come back to this place.

      By the time she’d finished making him comfortable for the night Jason looked exhausted. His face was drawn, and there was a tense look about his mouth that made her ask, ‘Are you in pain?’

      ‘Not physically. It’s just the thought of the night. For God’s sake give me something to make me sleep.’

      ‘Your last nurse seems to have let you rely on sleeping pills rather a lot.’

      ‘Maybe she understood more than you do what it’s like to be trapped.’

      ‘Trapped?’

      ‘In the darkness—and silence. Sometimes I listen to the radio, but after a while it’s just another way of being trapped.’

      ‘I’ll give you something tonight,’ Elinor said, ‘and we’ll talk about it tomorrow.’

      She gave him his usual pill and tried to settle him more comfortably, but he fended her off.

      ‘Goodnight,’ he said curtly.

      ‘Goodnight, Mr Tenby.’

      It was too soon for her to go to bed, so she went down to the kitchen and spent an hour chatting with Hilda over a pot of tea. When she finally went upstairs she paused outside Jason’s room and listened, shocked by the sounds coming from inside. He was groaning and muttering like a tormented soul. She stood, undecided, for a long time before quietly entering.

      He’d told her to leave the curtains pulled back, and the moonlight poured in onto the bed, revealing how he lay still for a moment, then resumed the feverish tossing.

      Elinor crossed quietly to the bed, wondering if she ought to awaken him from whatever agonies overwhelmed him in the night.

      But she guessed that this was why he’d tried to banish her from the room opposite. He didn’t want her near enough to hear his nightmares, and it would revolt his pride to know that she’d been in here.

      ‘Why—why—?’ The words came from Jason in a hoarse whisper.

      ‘Mr Tenby—’ She came closer, wondering if he’d awoken.

      Suddenly he gave a violent lurch and one flailing arm caught her on the side of the head. But he went on tossing, and didn’t seem to know what he’d done, or that she was there. So it seemed as though he was still asleep.

      She caught his arm and held it gently. ‘It’s all right,’ she said, reciting the words she’d used before in similar situations. ‘Everything’s going to be all right. I’m here.’

      ‘Where?’ he cried hoarsely.

      ‘Right here, beside you. Feel me.’ She caught his other hand, guided it to her, then let him hold her arms. He was muttering again.

      ‘What is it?’ she asked, putting her face close to his and whispering, trying to get through to his tormented brain without waking him.

      ‘You’re not real,’ he groaned.

      ‘Yes, I’m real, and I’m here to help you.’

      ‘You’re never real—always a dream in the end—’

      ‘Not this time,’ she said, wondering who he was talking about.

      ‘Tried to make it right—but I could never find you—’

      ‘There’s plenty of time to make it right,’ she assured him.

      ‘Too late—you vanished—’

      ‘You can tell me one day soon,’ Elinor told him gently.

      He was lying still now, although his breathing was tortured and sweat stood out on his brow. She mopped it with a handkerchief that lay beside the bed, and the gesture seemed to calm him, although he still held onto her as if his life depended on it.

      ‘Don’t go,’ he murmured.

      ‘No, I won’t go, not while you need me.’

      He reached out for her, finding his way up her arms to her neck, her face, stroking the hair that tumbled about his hands. The feel of it seemed to take him aback for he paused, wreathing his fingers in the soft locks, frowning.

      Elinor took a sharp breath and drew away. Nursing him was one thing, but this kind of intimacy with her enemy wasn’t in the bargain. Slowly, trembling, she took hold of his hand, meaning to free her hair. But his hand was so thin, so lacking in strength, that she couldn’t bring herself to make a sudden movement.

      He released her hair, but his fingers moved on, drifting across her face. She grew very tense as he reached the wide curve of her lips. There he stopped and lingered, as if caught in some spell. She held still, aghast at the sensations that his fingertips were sending through her.

      They were warm, sweet feelings, delicious and forbidden. Her heart beat madly and she couldn’t breathe.

      Suddenly a terrible fear possessed her. She didn’t know why she was afraid of this man who was virtually helpless, but the fear came out of nowhere, shaking her like a rag doll. It was connected with something she couldn’t remember—wouldn’t remember—and it left her shivering with shock. She must get out of here, now, this minute, but his tortured face seemed to hold her.

      ‘Why did you go?’ he whispered.

      Scarcely knowing what she said, she replied, ‘I had to go. You know why.’

      What