Taken Over. PENNY JORDAN

things that caught Cassie’s eye. It was a dream of a house she thought enviously; it conjured up images of a happy family, of security, love and care. She turned to Joel, too bemused to hold back her pleasure and checked as she saw the dark, almost brooding expression in his eyes. Was he having second thoughts about marrying her? Her heart leapt and it was several seconds before she realised it hadn’t jumped in relief.

      ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said huskily, to cover the shock of her own discovery. ‘Have you … have you owned it long?’

      She was making the natural assumption that he had bought the house with the profits from his successful companies, as so many businessmen did, but his mouth curled sardonically as he responded curtly, ‘Personally no, but it’s been in my family since the sixteenth century. I inherited it when my father died, a couple of years ago …’ His face closed up and looked bitter again, and Cassie wondered if perhaps he had been particularly close to the older man and that was why he looked so angry.

      ‘I brought you here so that you could change.’ He saw her look of surprise and told her coldly, ‘I’ve arranged for our marriage to be performed by our local vicar. Howards have always married from the village church, and although he accepts that we only want a quiet ceremony—I’m afraid I led him to believe our impatience sprang more from mutual desire than from any practical reasons; he will naturally except you to look a little bridelike.’

      ‘But I haven’t got anything to change into,’ Cassie protested.

      ‘That’s all taken care of. Come on.’ He stopped the car and got out, coming round to her door. No doubt to prevent her from running off Cassie thought bitterly.

      Even when he inserted the key into the front door he retained his grip on her arm, his fingers biting into the tender flesh, heating her skin beneath the jacket of her suit. His proximity did strange things to her senses, bemusing them in a way that puzzled and alarmed her. She could smell the male scent of him, warm and faintly musky but instead of being repelled she found it made her want to move closer to him.

      Fortunately before she could give in to the alien emotion they were inside the house, stepping on a polished parquet floor.

      Motes of dust danced in the air, and she frowned over the hall’s look of neglect, wondering how Joel could bear to let this perfect gem of a house look anything less than perfect.

      ‘Upstairs, third on the right,’ he told her curtly, ‘I’ll be waiting outside the door, and there’s no ‘phone so don’t waste your time looking for one. I’ll give you fifteen minutes to get ready and if you aren’t changed in that time, I’ll come in and dress you myself. Understood?’

      Yes, Cassie understood all right and she understood too there would be nothing kind in his hands or touch if he was forced to carry out his threat; rather that it would hold all the cruelty of indifference and distaste, and as she preceded him up the stairs she made a mental vow that she would never, ever give Joel Howard any opportunity to touch her; so that she would never be forced to acknowledge the depth of his contemptuous indifference to her.

      The bedroom he had given her faced the back of the house, the windows looking down over an enclosed cobbled courtyard. Urns which had once held flowers stood empty and uncared for, echoing the air of neglect that permeated the whole house. It felt unloved Cassie thought curiously, and yet if ever a house cried out for love and care it was this one.

      She had the impression that Joel almost resented it, and yet if that was the case why keep the estate; why not sell it?

      Puzzling over the strange anomalies apparent in his personality she washed quickly in the en suite bathroom, emerging dressed in her plain cotton bra and briefs to study the outfit laid out across the bed.

      As she looked at it pain and rage mingled in her heart. The dress was a soft creamy white, a confection of delicate lace and fragile silk; a dress designed for a girl like the blonde she had seen Joel dining with or the secretary he had sent to spy on her. Which of them had chosen it, she wondered, acknowledging the cruelty of the mind that had picked such a delicate feminine dress for a woman who had no female graces.

      Mindful of Joel’s threat she put it on quickly, struggling with the zip which refused to move more than an inch or so above her waist. Temper lent a warm colour to her skin, her hazel eyes more green than golden as she continued to struggle. The silk moulded her body delicately, the ruffles of lace whispering softly as she moved. Some of the pins had escaped from her chignon and strands of hair hung down round her face. Feeling hot and angry she twisted round trying to see what was impeding the closing of the zip. A tiny fragment of fabric seemed to be caught in it, but she could move the fastener neither up nor down and time was running out. A pretty, tiny hat with a provocative veil lay on the bed and she shuddered away from it, all too well able to picture the contrast between that delicately frivolous ornamentation and the heavy frames of her glasses. Impelled by some instinct she couldn’t name, she took them off, and stared blearily at her fuzzy reflection. She was just about to put them on when the door opened inward, and Joel strode in. Without her glasses she couldn’t see his reflection but she could tell he was angry by the taut way he moved.