Innocent Cinderella. Julia James

the lions in the arena one more time?’

      She thought—But there are far worse things than lions…

      Aloud, she said sedately, ‘Let them do their worst.’

      And walked beside him in silence down to the drawing room.

       Chapter Seven

      IT PROBABLY WASN’T the worst evening she’d ever spent, Marin thought detachedly, but it was high on the list.

      Diana had rounded up all the local grandees for the dinner, including the Chief Constable, but Marin gathered that other people had been invited later for dancing, and that a disco run by the doctor’s student son had been set up in the large conservatory at the rear of the house.

      In the dining room, she’d found herself next to Chaz Stratton, who confined himself to telling her that she wouldn’t have found the croquet contest quite so easy, and that Diana had won.

      Marin murmured politely, thinking how much she’d like to take his vichyssoise and upend it into his lap.

      On her other side was the local Member of Parliament, a thin, greyish man who clearly preferred monologues conducted by himself to conversation, so she was required to do little but listen and try not to let her glance stray too obviously or wistfully to where Jake was sitting, being animatedly entertained by a very attractive brunette.

      It occurred to her that this was what it must be like to be Jake’s girlfriend in reality. To be another Adela Mason, always wondering if every other woman in the room was a potential rival, and if so how to deal with it. Or to accept, like the unknown Celia Forrest, that Jake did not play for keeps and walk away before the inevitable happened.

      And found she was putting down her dessert spoon, her appetite for floating island pudding suddenly replaced by a tight knot of unhappiness in her chest.

      Finding herself overtaken by the startling and appalling realisation that no amount of money could ever make up for the kind of wretchedness that was going to be waiting for her once the weekend was over.

      Oh God, she thought, swallowing. How can I have allowed this to happen to me? And let it get to this stage?

      It wasn’t just her first confrontation with actual sexual temptation, or finding herself in close proximity to a diabolically attractive and experienced man. If that was so, she might have found some means of dealing with it.

      But it was no longer as simple as that. In some devastating way, her heart and her head had somehow become involved too, so that her often-repeated mantra. ‘All over soon’—was no longer reassurance but a cry of pain.

      And the knowledge of that scared her half to death.

      She was suddenly, startlingly aware, without even glancing in his direction, that Jake was no longer looking at his companion but at her. Knew, too, that if she met his gaze she might not have the sophistication to hide her inner tumult from his perception.

      Keeping her eyes fixed resolutely on the table, she thought—I shall have to be so careful. So desperately careful.

      It was a relief when the meal ended and the other guests started to arrive.

      Marin’s plan was to get lost once more in the general melee, and maybe beat a strategic retreat back to her room, only to realise she was no longer wearing her usual protective camouflage, and that the younger crowd who’d now joined the party were homing in on her and sweeping her along to where the music was already playing.

      It was a while since she’d been dancing, but she soon discovered that her natural grace and rhythm had not deserted her. And if the frankly appreciative comments about her appearance from her various partners were a little embarrassing, they were also gratifying. Especially when Diana had greeted her earlier with the kind of look usually accorded to an earwig lurking in a salad.

      She’d imagined that the party would divide, with Graham and his older guests remaining in the drawing room, but she was entirely wrong. The beat of the music seemed to act like a magnet for everyone.

      She caught a glimpse of Jake partnering his brunette, and deliberately turned to take him out of her line of vision.

      He’s doing the right thing, she told herself defensively. She’s glamorous and sophisticated—all the things I’m not—and no one in the world would be the least bit surprised if he moved on to her. Even Diana Halsay would have to believe it, and admit defeat.

      I just didn’t expect it to happen like this, or so soon. But I have no grounds for complaint. All I can do is put up and shut up, because that’s what I’m being paid for.

      In the meantime, the music was a shield for her to hide behind, and if her smile felt as if it had been nailed on, and her brain ached with the effort of being pleasant to all these strangers and forcing herself to flirt back, she was the only one who knew it.

      Until, inevitably, the amateur DJ decided to change the mood and the music softened and slowed into dreaminess, encouraging the gyrating couples to move closer, even to touch.

      And suddenly Jake was beside her.

      He said softly, ‘I think this is our dance,’ and made to take her in his arms.

      For a moment she looked at him almost dazedly as an anguished voice inside her head began whispering, ‘I can’t do this—I can’t let him hold me as if I’m the one he truly wants to be near. I can’t slow-dance with him and feel his lips against my hair, my face; I couldn’t bear it. It’s a pretence too far…’

      She stepped back, forcing another smile, even managing to make it rueful this time. ‘Jake, I’m really sorry, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to excuse me. I’m—all partied out and falling asleep on my feet, so I’ve decided to call it a night.’

      There was an odd silence, then Jake said courteously, ‘Yes, darling, of course. I quite understand. I’ll try not to disturb you when I come up.’

      ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That would be—kind.’ She looked around her, smiled again rather waveringly, said a general goodnight and tried not to make it too obvious that she was in flight.

      She was breathless when she reached her room. Breathless, and suddenly close to tears. Fiercely, she fought them back as she closed the door, leaning back against its panels.

      ‘Get a grip,’ she adjured herself harshly, and aloud. ‘If this is how you are after forty-eight hours with him, what the hell would you be like after a week? This is sheer self-preservation you’re doing here.’

      Someone had been up as usual to turn down her bed, light the lamp on the night table and draw the curtains. Her window had been left open, and the folds of chintz were stirring in the slight breeze, which also brought all too clearly the sweet, seductive sound of the music below.

      Something she definitely didn’t need, she thought, crossing the room and pulling the casement shut with a sharp jerk, trying hard at the same time not to wonder if Jake had returned to his brunette.

      That, she told herself, is not your business. And you’d be better occupied concentrating on that unfinished list of stuff for Essex than indulging in useless and damaging speculation.

      But first, she decided, slipping off her sandals and flexing her toes, she would get undressed and into bed. Not that she was tired. Not yet.

      Restless, she thought. Edgy. That’s me. But a night’s sleep will get me back on track.

      She took one last look in the mirror to say a faintly regretful goodbye to the flushed, dishevelled stranger in the sexy dress, then reached round to undo her zip. Only to discover, after several minutes of determined tugging, that it was refusing to move as much as a millimetre.

      Marin, remembering the difficulties of fastening it when she was dressing, gave a silent groan.

      Think,