Ice In His Veins. Carole Mortimer

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      ‘Have a nice evening?’ she asked them.

      ‘Very pleasant,’ her mother replied, throwing her evening bag down into a chair. ‘We saw Tim outside. He wasn’t his usual composed self.’

      ‘Oh,’ she said lamely. She had hoped she needn’t tell her parents of Tim’s proposal.

      ‘Have you upset him in some way?’ her mother probed.

      ‘I may have done,’ she evaded. Her mother wholly approved of Tim and wouldn’t be pleased at her refusing to marry him.

      ‘Either you have or you haven’t!’ Her mother’s voice was brittle.

      ‘Surely that’s their business, Angela,’ Drew cut in smoothly.

      ‘Don’t interfere,’ his wife ordered. She looked back at Eden. ‘Have you upset him?’

      Drew sighed. ‘I think I’ll go to bed if this is going to turn into one of those long girlish discussions. Don’t be too long, darling,’ he advised his wife.

      ‘Goodnight, Daddy.’ Eden kissed him warmly on the cheek.

      ‘Angela?’ he queried.

      ‘I’ll be up in a moment,’ she told him vaguely. ‘Now,’ she pressed her daughter once they were alone, ‘what happened?’

      ‘I agree with Daddy,’ she frowned. ‘What happens between Tim and me is nobody’s affair but our own.’ She sighed as she saw her mother’s agitation rise. ‘Okay, I’ll tell you. I turned down his proposal of marriage and he didn’t like it.’

      Her mother gasped. ‘You turned him down?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Are you mad?’ her mother demanded.

      Eden shook her head. ‘I don’t love him.’

      Her mother gave a harsh laugh. ‘What does that have to do with it?’

      ‘Quite a lot, I would have thought.’

      ‘Then you’re a fool. He’s heir to so much money you would never have to worry about it again.’

      ‘I don’t worry about it now,’ Eden pointed out.

      ‘Only because Drew and I have never let you go without anything. Believe me, I know what it’s like,’ Angela shuddered in remembrance. ‘I don’t want the hardship for you that I had during my marriage to your father.’

      ‘My father wasn’t poor.’

      ‘He was by the time David Morton had finished with him. He threw him out of the family house, took away his job, everything. We were so poor that—well, we were poor. Your father hated that, he’d always had money. And his father knew it, he knew exactly what to do to get him back into the fold. So you think seriously before you refuse to marry someone like Tim. It isn’t easy being poor.’

      ‘I’ve already refused him.’

      ‘Then you’re a fool. Call him tomorrow and tell him you’ve changed your mind.’

      ‘But I haven’t.’ Nothing her mother had just told her made any difference to how she felt about Tim.

      Her mother’s eyes narrowed. ‘Does your refusal have anything to do with Jason Earle and this mad suggestion that you visit your grandfather?’

      ‘Of course not,’ Eden instantly denied.

      ‘I think it does. But you aren’t going to England to visit that old——’

      ‘Mummy,’ her voice was mild, effectively hiding her rising anger. ‘If I want to go to England then I shall go.’

      ‘We’ll see about that!’ Her mother slammed out of the room.

      Eden shook her head dazedly. Now why had she said that? She had no intention of going to England to see David Morton.

       CHAPTER THREE

      EDEN told Jason Earle as much when she met him for dinner the next evening. He had called for her as he said he would, leaving the proposed discussion until they had arrived at his hotel and ordered dinner.

      He studied her with cool grey eyes, and she was glad she had chosen to wear her one black evening gown, its simplicity of style giving her a sophistication she felt in need of against this man. Her perfectly proportioned body was shown to advantage in the figure-hugging dress, the ribbon shoulder straps displaying a tempting amount of smooth creamy flesh, the curve of her breasts just visible. She wore little make-up, what little she did wear emphasising her huge golden eyes.

      She smiled at the waiter as he placed her chilled melon before her. ‘I do mean it, Mr Earle,’ the smile left her mouth as she looked at him. ‘England holds no appeal for me whatsoever.’

      ‘Not even your grandfather?’

      Her wine glass landed with a thud on the table, spilling some of its contents. ‘Oh, damn!’ she muttered, beginning to mop up the liquid with her napkin as it rapidly soaked into the snowy white tablecloth.

      ‘Leave it,’ Jason ordered tersely.

      ‘But it will stain.’

      He shrugged. ‘So what?’

      ‘So—I suppose you’re right,’ she threw the napkin down on to the table, inwardly cursing her awkwardness. ‘I don’t suppose a hotel like this will worry about one stained tablecloth.’ It was the most exclusive hotel in the area, and she felt sure Jason Earle would have the best suite it had. He had been treated like royalty since their arrival here, and quite frankly Eden found it a little unnerving. ‘Not even my grandfather, Mr Earle,’ she answered his question. ‘If David Morton can be called that. He broke my parents’ marriage up and then ignored us all these years.’

      ‘Your father was his son.’

      ‘And does that automatically make me his granddaughter?’

      He sat back. ‘I would have thought so.’ He watched her with narrowed eyes.

      ‘I don’t agree. Drew is the person who helped bring me up.’ She gave a bitter smile. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Mr Earle, when I made that remark about automatically being David Morton’s grandchild I didn’t mean there was any doubt about it. My mother was always faithful to my father, it was David Morton who forced them apart.’

      ‘That doesn’t mean your mother was guiltless.’

      ‘No, but it doesn’t point to my father being so either. I’m sure there were faults on both sides, but I can’t forget eighteen years of silence from the grandfather who’s never shown that he cared whether I was alive or dead.’

      ‘Not even if he’s dying?’

      Eden paled at the quietly voiced question, swallowing hard. She searched his harsh features for some sign or mockery, some indication that he didn’t mean what he said—but found none. His grey eyes were as coldly chilling as usual, his mouth just as cruel. She took a deep breath. ‘And is he?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘But I—I don’t understand. You didn’t mention this to my mother yesterday.’

      ‘I think we can assume that David’s death is not of great importance to your mother—in fact, she’d probably be pleased about it.’

      ‘My mother isn’t like that!’ she snapped. ‘Why is he dying? I know he’s old, but—He can’t be dying!’

      Jason shrugged. ‘He recently had a heart attack, the next one will probably be fatal.’

      ‘Oh God!’ she groaned.

      ‘Indeed,’ he agreed. ‘Not very pleasant.’

      Her