Sweet Betrayal. HELEN BROOKS

and she smiled as she nodded vigorously.

      ‘Of course, lots of balloons. Do you want to go and tell the other children now and then you can all start looking forward to it.’

      ‘Me tell them?’ This was clearly the icing on the cake and he slid off her lap and marched to the door, his thin shoulders squared with importance.

      ‘What was all that about?’ She had almost forgotten Cameron was there, but now he moved round to her side from where he had been standing leaning quietly against the wall. ‘Do you have parties for all the children?’

      She felt it was another criticism on needless expenditure and glared at him angrily, her face burning. ‘Of course not, but Kevin has lost his father recently and there’s only him and his mother. The grandparents help, but she’s finding it hard and the pair of them aren’t over the first shock yet.’

      ‘Is that Mike Wilson’s son?’ His voice was harsh. She nodded slowly.

      ‘I read the report on that yesterday. It happened on my father’s property, didn’t it? The man pulled down a load of stacked logs on himself when he was drunk.’

      ‘He’d been drinking the night before, yes,’ Candy answered tightly, ‘but I understand the accident was just one of those things.’

      ‘Hardly.’ Cameron’s voice was cold. ‘The insurance company don’t want to know. There was no negligence on my father’s part, just sheer stupidity on Wilson’s side. From the amount of alcohol still in his system I’m amazed he could have stood up. I’m afraid the family won’t get a penny in damages.’

      ‘They already know that,’ she answered shortly, astounded by his lack of compassion. ‘And don’t worry, they have no intention of trying to get you to pay anything.’ She almost spat the words at him. He was worse than ever she had imagined. She would never have believed a human being could be so devoid of even the most elementary tenderness. There had been no sympathy in his voice, just cold, harsh censure and biting condemnation.

      ‘I’m aware of that,’ he answered abruptly, his dark head tilted to one side as he considered her furious face. ‘You’re determined to cast me in the role of wicked black baron, aren’t you? Do you always make such snap judgements? I wouldn’t have thought in your line of profession that was very wise.’ There it was again, that subtle criticism of her capabilities!

      ‘It’s no snap judgement where you are concerned,’ she answered bitingly. ‘I’ve had ten years to make up my mind about you.’

      ‘And hating me for every one of them?’ he asked mockingly.

      ‘Dead right.’ She turned and looked him full in the face. ‘To me you are the lowest thing that ever walked this earth, Cameron Strythe; a fly-blown maggot is more appealing than you.’

      ‘A doubtful comparison, but I think I get the message.’ The man was so infuriatingly in control, she thought wildly, as he moved lazily towards the door from which he had entered. He turned on the threshold and held her with his icy blue gaze. ‘Do I take it I am the heartless villain and your sister is the pure white innocent in this vivid imagination of yours?’

      ‘She was pregnant with your child and you walked out on her,’ Candy answered baldly. ‘Those are the facts; you can’t change them.’

      ‘And if I denied that?’

      ‘I wouldn’t believe you.’

      ‘I thought so.’ The light from the window was turning her hair into glowing fire as she stood looking at him, her eyes great black pools of pain in her chalkwhite face. He shook his head slowly, his face closed against her.

      ‘Oh, what a tangled web we weave...’

      ‘What?’ Her voice was sharp and he shook his head again, his face clearing.

      ‘Five tonight at the house, Candy.’

      ‘You still want me to come?’ She stared at him in surprise. She had thought after this little exchange there would be nothing left to say. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he had come back and pinned a notice on the door stating the school was closed until further notice!

      He nodded abruptly as he left, leaving her staring miserably at the empty doorway. What a mess! What a hopeless, impossible mess. She wondered how long it would be before he could close them down. There would be official channels to go through and such like, but with Colonel Strythe gone their only support had vanished, and the council would be quick to point that out. Six months, nine months, certainly no more. The council had been waiting for an opportunity like this for years.

      The first faint fingers of dusk were touching the blue-grey sky as she made her way towards the farm later that day. Normally she would have enjoyed the walk to the Strythe house, taking pleasure in the small hump-backed bridge below which the crystal-clear waters of the gurgling stream were forded by steppingstones, and the huge, sweeping drive lined with evergreen yews, oaks and beech trees, but today the beauty around her was wasted. Her whole being was concentrated on the confrontation ahead and she was dreading it. She wished Charles Strythe hadn’t died; she wished Cameron hadn’t come back; she wished so many things...

      ‘Hello, Miss Candy.’ Mrs Baines ushered her into the wide wood-panelled hall with a beaming smile. ‘It’s lovely to see you again, makes it seem more like old times.’ The round red-cheeked face took on a sober expression that didn’t sit well on the plump little woman. Mrs Baines had been with Colonel Strythe as long as she could remember, Candy mused; she must be missing him dreadfully. ‘Come to see Mr Cameron, I understand? You go into the drawing-room and I’ll tell him you’re here.’

      Candy made her way to the drawing-room, looking round this room she had always loved as she entered. The Strythe house was built more in the style of a country mansion than of the average farmhouse seen scattered through the county. The rooms were large and high, with beautifully sculptured ceilings and vast window-seats, thick, deep carpets and long velvet curtains.

      The grounds around the house were lovingly cared for and the stables situated some distance away were always in pristine condition, housing some fine mounts. According to her father, the Strythe family had diversified into many other areas besides farming, creating enormous wealth, although the family home with its acres of prime Devonshire cattle and sheep had always been Colonel Strythe’s first love.

      She glanced at his portrait now as she stood before the roaring log fire waiting for Cameron’s arrival, noting the light blue eyes, the firm mouth and that small dimple in his chin that Cameron had inherited too. She missed him. She really did. The beautiful room, with its rich deep red curtains and upholstery and fine antique furniture, seemed empty without his benign presence.

      ‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’ She hadn’t noticed Cameron come in, lost as she was in the past, and started violently for the third time since his homecoming. ‘Do you suffer with your nerves?’ From anyone else the question, asked as it was in quiet, concerned tones, might have been genuine, but as she looked into his eyes she saw dark devilment gleaming out at her.

      ‘No, I do not,’ she returned sharply, flushing hotly.

      ‘Do I make you nervous, then?’ He had moved closer to her as he spoke and for the second time she became aware of that tantalising smell that was a part of him. It stirred something deep inside her that she would prefer not to be stirred.

      ‘No.’ As she spoke the denial she realised it was a lie. He did make her nervous, horribly nervous, and that in turn made her angry.

      ‘Good,’ he said lazily. He had changed since that morning and, looking at him in casual trousers and a heavy Aran sweater, she became aware that he really was quite devastatingly attractive. She caught her wandering thoughts savagely. She hadn’t really just thought that... had she?

      ‘You wanted to see me?’ She kept her voice cool and businesslike and walked with studied calm from the comforting warmth of the fire to the big easychair near by, perching on the end of it and crossing her hands on her