A Second Chance For The Millionaire. Nicola Marsh

Someone cracked a joke about Darius, someone else cracked another, while their victim stood in the shadows, fuming. This was another new experience and one Darius could have done without. Awe, respect, even fear, these he was used to. But derision? That was an insult.

      Walter leaned towards her confidentially. ‘Hey, Harry, make a note never to rescue him. If you find him in the water, do the world a favour and look the other way.’

      Roars of laughter. She raised her glass, chuckling, ‘I’ll remember.’

      That was it. Time for her to be taught a lesson.

      Emerging from the trees, he approached the table and stood, watching her sardonically, until the others noticed him and became curious. At last Harriet’s attention was caught and she turned. He heard her draw a sharp breath, and registered her look of dismay with grim satisfaction.

      ‘You’d better remind yourself of my face,’ he said, ‘so that you’ll know who to abandon.’

      She couldn’t speak. Only her expression betrayed her horror and embarrassment.

      He should then have turned on his heel and departed without giving her a chance to reply. But Phantom had to spoil it. Recognising his new friend, he rose from where he was nestled beneath Harriet’s seat and reared up, barking with delight.

      ‘Phantom, no!’ she cried.

      ‘Leave him,’ Darius told her, rubbing Phantom’s head. ‘You daft mutt! Is this how you get your fun? Luckily, I’m in casuals tonight. Now, get down, there’s a good fellow.’

      After Harriet’s dire warnings, his relaxed tone took everyone by surprise and he noticed that puzzled frowns were directed at her. Fine. If she wanted battle, she could have it. He nodded to them all and departed.

      When he reached the road he heard footsteps hurrying behind him and turned, half fearing another canine embrace. But it was her.

      ‘That thing about leaving you in the sea—it was just a silly joke. Of course we’d never leave anyone to drown.’

      ‘Not anyone,’ he echoed. ‘Meaning not even a monster like me.’

      ‘Look—’

      ‘Don’t give it another thought. The chance of my ever needing to rely on you is non-existent—as you’ll discover.’

      ‘Oh, really!’ she said, cross again. ‘Let’s hope you’re right. You never know what life has in store next, do you? Let’s make sure.’

      Grabbing him, she yanked him under a street lamp and studied his face, frowning.

      ‘You look different from last time,’ she said. ‘It must be the darkness. OK, I’ve got you fixed. Hey, what are you doing?’

      ‘The same to you as you did to me,’ he said, holding her with one hand while the other lifted her chin to give him the best view of her face.

      Harriet resisted the temptation to fight him off, suspecting that he would enjoy that too much. Plus she guessed he wouldn’t be easy to fight. There was an unyielding strength in his grasp that could reduce her to nothing. So she stayed completely still, outwardly calm but inwardly smouldering.

      If only he would stop smiling like that, as though something about her both amused and pleased him. There was a gleam in his eyes that almost made her want to respond. Almost. If she was that foolish. She drew a long breath, trying not to tremble.

      At last he nodded, saying in a thoughtful voice, ‘Hmm. Yes, I think I’ll remember you—if I try really hard.’

      ‘Cheek!’ she exploded.

      He released her. ‘All right, you can go now.’

      Darius walked away without looking back. He didn’t need to. He knew she was looking daggers at him.

      At home in Giant’s Beacon, he sat in darkness at the window of his room with a drink, trying to understand what had so disturbed him that night. It wasn’t the hostility, something he was used to. Nor was it really the laughter, which had annoyed him, but only briefly. It was something about Harriet—something…

      He exhaled a long breath as the answer came to him. She’d spoken of seeing him on the beach, ‘standing there like a king come into his birthright.’

      That hadn’t been her first reaction. She’d even said she’d liked him, but only briefly, until she’d discovered who he was. Then she’d seen only arrogance and harshness, a conqueror taking possession.

      But wasn’t that partly his own choice? For years he’d assumed various masks—cool, unperturbed, cunning, superior or charming when the occasion warranted it. Some had been passed on to him by a father whose skill in manipulation was second to none. Others he’d created for himself.

      Only one person had seen a different side of him—loving, passionate. For twelve years he’d enjoyed what he’d thought of as a happy marriage, until his wife had left him for another man. Since then he’d tried to keep the vulnerable face well hidden, but evidently he should try harder.

      He snatched up the phone and dialled his ex-wife’s number in London.

      ‘Mary?’

      ‘Do you have to ring me at this hour? I was just going to bed.’

      ‘I suppose he’s with you?’

      ‘That’s no longer any concern of yours, since we’re divorced.’

      ‘Are Mark and Frankie there?’

      ‘Yes, but they’re asleep and I’m not waking them. Why don’t you call during the day, if you can make time? I never liked having to wait until you’d finished everything else, and they don’t like it either.’

      ‘Tell them I’ll call tomorrow.’

      ‘Not during the day. It’s a family outing.’

      ‘When you say “family” I take it you mean—’

      ‘Ken, too. You shouldn’t be surprised. We’ll be married soon, and he’ll be their father.’

      ‘The hell he will! I’ll call tomorrow evening. Tell them to expect me.’ He slammed down the phone.

      Darius had a fight on his hands there, he knew it. Mary had been a good wife and mother, but she’d never really understood the heavy demands of his work. And now, if he wasn’t careful, she would cut his children off from him.

      How his enemies would rejoice at his troubles. Enemies. In the good times they had been called opponents, rivals, competitors. But the bad times had changed all that, bringing out much bile and bitterness that had previously been hidden for tactical reasons.

      As so often, Harriet was hovering on the edge of his mind, an enemy who was at least open about her hostility. Tonight he’d had the satisfaction of confronting her head-on, a rare pleasure in his world. He could see her now, cheeky and challenging, but not beautiful, except for her eyes, and with skin that was as soft as rose petals; something that he’d discovered when he’d held her face prisoner between his fingers.

      This was how he’d always fought the battles, gaining information denied to others. But now it was different. Instead of triumph, he felt only confusion.

      After watching the darkness for a long time he went to bed.

CHAPTER THREE

      HARRIET prided herself on her common sense. She needed to. There had been times in her recent past when it had been all that saved her from despair. Even now, the dark depths sometimes beckoned and she clung fiercely to her ‘boring side’ as she called it, because nothing else helped. And even that didn’t make the sadness go away. It simply made it possible to cling on until her courage returned.

      She knew that people had always