Hunter's Moon. Carole Mortimer

father and Charles had had an equal thirty-five per cent of the shares of the company they had formed together, putting the other thirty per cent on the open market, confident that either of them had the majority over the market, and together they had no fears of any take-over bids.

      But the death of Cassandra’s father last New Year had divided his shares, giving Marguerite a fifteen per cent share, and Joy and Cassandra ten per cent each. Charles’s death had now divided those family shares up even more, and in a way that had been totally unexpected, Cassandra readily admitted. Although Charles had to have known what he was doing. At least, she hoped he had!

      She shrugged dismissively, determined this man shouldn’t see just how shaken she was by Charles’s will. ‘They were Charles’s shares; he was free to do what he wanted with them.’

      ‘Because you already have what you wanted from your marriage to him?’ Jonas said accusingly.

      Her eyes widened. ‘I married Charles because I loved him——’

      ‘Oh, come on, Cassandra.’ Jonas’s mouth twisted scornfully. ‘Charles was twenty-five years older than you——’

      ‘Twenty-three,’ she defended, bright spots of colour now highlighting her cheeks. ‘But that made no difference to how I felt about him——’

      ‘I’ll just bet it didn’t.’ He shook his head disgustedly. ‘He was Charles Hunter, your father’s business partner, could have been forty years older than you—and you would still have been willing to marry him!’

      ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about!’ she gasped at his insulting tone.

      ‘Don’t I?’ he said softly, his eyes narrowed. ‘But I know more about my famous sister-in-law than you perhaps realise,’ he told her dismissively. ‘Cassandra Kyle, the designer of exclusive clothes for the woman with plenty of money! And you owe it all to Charles,’ he scorned.

      Charles had been responsible for helping her open her first boutique in London, she admitted that, knew that without his help she would probably have remained an unknown for a lot more years than she had. And considering the way her business was now, the state of the economy meaning that those women with plenty of money were a lot less well off than they used to be, perhaps it might have been better if she had remained unknown! But that seemed to be something Jonas Hunter didn’t know! She wondered for how long…

      ‘Poor Charles,’ Jonas drawled. ‘I could almost feel sorry for the poor besotted fool he must have become! Admittedly you’re beautiful enough, but I credited my self-centred brother with more sense than to go for that older-man-falling-for-younger-woman trick.’ He shook his head scathingly. ‘Hunter became the hunted,’ he added softly, the slow deliberation with which he delivered the words giving them the full insult he intended them to have.

      Cassandra paled. ‘Get out,’ she told him shakily. ‘Get out of my home!’ She was trembling so badly that she felt as if she might collapse. And she refused to do that in front of this hateful man!

      ‘Oh, I’m going, Cassandra,’ he assured her drily. ‘In fact, I’m going back to the States for a while to sort things out over there. But I’ll be back,’ he told her softly. ‘I’ll be back…’ It was a threat as well as a promise!

      And two months later he had been, taking over as head of Hunter and Kyle. And Cassandra hated seeing him there, hated him for the way he never lost an opportunity during the following months to torment her anew with those accusations…

      Bethany still looked slightly confused even once Cassandra had explained the formality of Joy’s future wedding to her, the necessity for Joy to be ‘given away’ by a member of her family if possible, a close friend if not; Cassandra wasn’t sure which category Jonas came under! And Bethany was easily distracted from the subject altogether once Cassandra had mentioned something she did understand: bathtime!

      As far as Bethany was concerned, the huge oval jacuzzi in her parents’ bathroom had been put there solely for her to romp around in, the bubbles created from the surging foam and the scented liquid Cassandra had been persuaded to put in soon up to her small pointed chin as she played games with their rainbow brightness.

      As her young daughter played with squealing delight, Cassandra stood in the adjoining bedroom looking through her wardrobe for something to wear when she visited her mother that evening, because even though she wasn’t going to join them for dinner—she already had a dinner engagement—she wasn’t prepared to let Marguerite get away with this as easily as all that, and intended calling at her mother’s house on her way out. And if Jonas should arrive while she was talking to her mother he would no doubt look at her with his usual criticism—hence her frowning attention on what to wear. If she chose something that would flatter her slender darkness then Jonas would treat her scornfully, and if she chose something demure he would deride the effort as being a false one. She had never been able to win with Jonas. He had formed an opinion of her before they even met, because she had been the wife of the brother he despised, and to give him his due it had never wavered; he despised her as much as he had Charles. Cassandra had formed a similar opinion of him after their first meeting, which had also never wavered—how could it when he had treated her with such contempt on that occasion, and every one since?

      Jonas’s only redeeming quality, as far as she was concerned, was that his dislike of her didn’t extend as far as her daughter; he openly adored Bethany. And Bethany reciprocated by believing him to be the most wonderful man in the world. Cassandra could only hope that her daughter’s taste in men improved before she reached maturity!

      ‘Wear the yellow dress.’ Bethany grinned at her enchantingly from the bath. ‘The one Daddy liked,’ she added softly, sadness entering the golden-brown of her eyes at this mention of her father.

      Cassandra’s own hand shook slightly as she reached out automatically for the dull gold gown that Charles had so liked to see her in, its clinging style to just above her knees, her shoulders left completely bare, classically and tunelessly appealing. Charles had always claimed it gave her eyes a golden glimmer that matched the colour of the dress, and for a brief moment after Bethany had called out to her it had almost seemed as if Charles himself spoke to her.

      ‘Yes—wear the pale gold,’ a voice echoed mockingly. ‘You look like a high priestess in it!’

      Cassandra spun round with a gasp. This second voice was certainly nothing like Charles speaking to her; irresponsibly charming Charles had certainly never spoken to her in that disparaging way! Nor did the man who stood so arrogantly in the open bedroom doorway look anything like the husband Cassandra had loved in spite of his reckless disregard for what he termed ‘tomorrow’. It could take care of itself, he had always claimed with that boyish grin of his. Only he wasn’t here to see ‘tomorrow’ with her; this man was!

      Jonas Hunter. Charles’s younger half-brother, the two of them the products of their father’s two marriages. And Charles and Jonas were as different as night and day, as shadow and sunlight. And there was no confusion in Cassandra’s mind, at least, which man was which!

       CHAPTER TWO

      CASSANDRA looked warily across the room at Jonas, and knew that, despite his height and size, he could move with an animal stealth that was completely unnerving. Which was why she hadn’t heard his approach to her bedroom just now, she realised with deep resentment. This man aroused many emotions in her, and although most people seemed in awe of him no one she knew who had met him seemed to quite know how they felt about him—liking seeming too insipid an emotion to use in connection with this man. People would either love or loathe him, Cassandra would hazard a guess, having no doubt which emotion she herself felt towards him! Or perhaps it was because most other people were so much in awe of his arrogant power that they chose not to voice an opinion about how they felt about him!

      ‘Mrs Humphries let me in,’ he drawled now before Cassandra could voice her displeasure at this blatant