Hunter's Moon. Кэрол Мортимер

to go as smoothly as possible for Bethany during this, her first Christmas since Charles had died, was not the time to create such awkwardness with the rest of the family.

      It was very unfair of her mother, and Joy, who also knew exactly how she felt, to even be thinking of asking Jonas such a thing. Especially now. And while Cassandra appreciated that she couldn’t make a scene over this now she could at least try to get her mother to delay asking Jonas until after the holiday period. Although, knowing her mother, she would realise exactly why Cassandra wanted her to delay, and go ahead and ask him anyway!

      Her only consolation—if it could be called that!—was that she knew Jonas would hate being asked almost as much as she resented it! But he couldn’t possibly hate it as much!

      She deliberately turned her attention back to her beloved daughter now, for whom she would do anything—even grit her teeth and suffer through Jonas’s visits here, which she did regularly, as he and Bethany had formed a bond as strong as the rift between him and Cassandra!—smiling down at her warmly. ‘No, darling, it isn’t funny,’ she acknowledged ruefully, smoothing back the black fringe that framed the cherubic beauty of her daughter’s face.

      God, how Cassandra wished she had someone she could turn to now, someone to tell her what was the right thing to do in the tangled mess everything had become. This last ten months of being on her own with Bethany hadn’t been the easiest of times for her, and some of the decisions she had made had turned out disastrously, both personally and professionally. Sometimes she just longed for someone to give her a hug, or her arm a squeeze, as they told her she was doing all right— even if she knew the latter wasn’t strictly true. And there was no one—her mother and Joy were her only family now, and after her mother’s initial invitation for both her and Bethany to move in with them, an invitation Cassandra had had to refuse, and which, she knew, her mother had taken as rejection, her sister and mother, apart from the occasional invitation for Bethany to join them for tea after school or an outing at the weekends, had become wrapped up in their own lives once again, rarely seeming to give a thought to Cassandra, Bethany’s mother, widowed at only twenty-four. Perhaps that was her own fault; maybe she could have handled her refusal of her mother’s offer in a different way, but neverthe less——

      God, she was starting to sound self-pitying now, she realised with a defensive straightening of her spine, and that would never do—even if her world did seem to be crashing down about her ears. And she didn’t doubt that at the first sign of vulnerability on her part Jonas would attack, as he had in the past, with all the razor-sharp ferocity of which he was capable!

      She could still recall—with complete clarity—the first time she had met Jonas; it had also been the first occasion he had made her aware of just how contemptuous he was of her. There had been many occasions since, but that one stood out in her mind for its sheer cruelty!

      Jonas hadn’t returned to England for Charles’s funeral, having lived in America for the last twelve years, and claiming on his return that he hadn’t been informed in time to attend the service, and so had seen no reason to come to England after the event. Except that a month after Charles’s death the solicitors had called the family together to read the will, and Jonas’s presence had been requested for that. It was noticeable that he made the effort to come back to England on that occasion!

      Cassandra had still been numb from the shock of Charles’s death and the consequences that had followed, had barely been aware of the fact when Charles’s solicitor told her they had written to Jonas asking for him to be present. That numbness had fled with a vengeance when Jonas was shown into her lounge that day, Mr Harcourt believing this would be the best place for the reading of the will.

      She had been alone in the room, none of the rest of the family having arrived yet, standing up slowly to greet the half-brother Charles had never had the chance to introduce her to. His appearance alone had come as something of a shock to her; she had expected him to look like Charles, she supposed, had even been guarding herself for the meeting, and instead she had found herself looking at a harshly dark man who bore no resemblance to Charles whatsoever.

      Charles had been tall, blond-haired and blue-eyed, charming to both young and old in his desire to be liked. Apart from his equally impressive height, Jonas was the exact opposite of his half-brother: skin tanned darkly teak, saturnine almost, his hair as black as a moonless night, eyes equally black, lines of cynical hardness etched beside his nose and unsmiling mouth, giving him the appearance of being older than the thirty-five Cassandra knew him to be.

      That hard black gaze had raked over her disparagingly as he took in the black sheath of a dress she wore, the starkness of the colour giving her pale skin a slightly sallow appearance. ‘The grieving widow, I presume?’ he drawled tauntingly once the door had closed behind the housekeeper as she left after showing him in.

      Cassandra gasped at the insulting tone. She didn’t even know this man, had no—— But perhaps she had misunderstood him; this was an awkward occasion, especially as the two of them had never met before.

      She met his gaze steadily, looking gaunt with her hair secured back at her nape, even the light make-up she had applied that morning doing little to add colour to the hollowness of her cheeks. ‘Yes, I’m Cassandra,’ she confirmed huskily, holding out her hand in greeting. ‘I’m sorry we had to meet in these circumstances,’ she added politely, still waiting for him to take her hand.

      ‘I doubt we would have met at all if it hadn’t been “these circumstances”,’ he dismissed impatiently. ‘Do you have any idea why I’ve been asked to attend this reading?’ He looked at her with narrowed eyes, still ignoring her outstretched hand.

      Cassandra let her arm fall back to her side, shaking her head slightly, looking at him frowningly. ‘I’m afraid I don’t,’ she dismissed with a shrug. ‘I presume it’s because you’ve been named in the will——’

      ‘Credit me with enough intelligence to know that, woman,’ he cut in impatiently. ‘I just wondered why the solicitors felt it necessary to bring me all the way over from the States for the damned thing, why they couldn’t have just informed me by mail!’

      ‘I believe it’s usual to have everyone named in the will present at these things, if possible.’ Cassandra was frowning with the effort of trying to deal with this man’s aggression; it was the last thing she felt capable of coping with on top of everything else!

      ‘I’m a busy man, Cassandra,’ he snapped harshly.

      ‘I’m sure that if you had explained——’

      ‘Oh, I did,’ he said in a tone that implied he had done much more than that! ‘But I was told it was imperative that I be here.’

      For the first time since Charles had died Cassandra felt an emotion other than that crippling numbness; she felt the beginnings of unease. ‘They gave you no indication why…?’

      ‘None at all.’ His mouth twisted disgustedly. ‘Although I believe we are about to find out…’ he added softly as the door opened again to admit the solicitor, quickly followed by Cassandra’s family.

      And find out they did! Cassandra’s numbness receded completely as the will was read, to be replaced by shock and disbelief. She couldn’t believe what Charles had done!

      Her mother seemed as stunned, and had to be almost physically helped from the house by Joy as the two women left almost immediately after the reading of the will. Which left Cassandra, once the solicitor had left, alone again with Jonas Hunter. And she knew even less what to say to him now than she had before!

      Although she needn’t have worried; he seemed more than capable of talking for the pair of them!

      ‘Well, that must have come as something of a shock to you,’ he drawled knowingly. ‘Me too,’ he murmured almost to himself, frowning, his attention suddenly returning to Cassandra with narrow-eyed assessment. ‘I’m sure you must have thought you would automatically inherit Charles’s share of Hunter and Kyle after his death?’

      She had thought no such thing, as it happened, had believed