Catching Katie Read online

  In London, it had been too dark when he had stripped off her tee shirt. He had not seen this. She had stopped him turning on the light.

  But if they made love here—properly made love—Haydon would want to see her. Would have a right to see her, as she had a right to see him. If she took her clothes off for him again she would have to endure him seeing what no one had seen for six years. Have to risk him flinching, as her father had flinched. Retreating, as Mike had retreated, with a muttered, embarrassed excuse and a look of absolute horror.

  Could she bear to risk that again? From Haydon whom she nearly, so nearly trusted?

  Could she bear not to?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SHE did not know the answer. Katie stood looking at the scar for a long time. And still no answer came to her. Except that here in the castello, one way or another, she was going to have to face it and find out.

  The thought set her shivering all over again.

  It was quite dark when Katie went downstairs again. She could not find any light switch in her turret, so she made her way down the curving staircase by the moonlight which flooded through the windows. It lent an unearthly gleam to the marble and mosaic. Nothing could have reminded her so totally that she was in a different world here. Haydon’s world.

  Katie swallowed. She felt very alone. But she kept going.

  She found Haydon in the kitchen. He had put on more clothes, she was relieved to see, but he was still far from elegant. He had thrust his sleeves up above his elbows and left his dark shirt unbuttoned, fastening it in a careless knot at his waist.

  He was leaning over a scrubbed table, leafing through a book. It offered a disturbing view of smooth brown skin.

  Katie stopped, taken aback. Somehow, this half-dressed state was more intimate than even his near nakedness had been. Then, at least, she had been able to tell herself she had disturbed him while he was working outside, even sunbathing. Now she could not even pretend that was the reason. Haydon was giving her a message. She bit her lip.

  Hearing her, Haydon looked up. Katie had half expected annoyance, at least mockery, but his face was sober.

  ‘All right?’

  Katie swallowed. ‘Yes.’

  He straightened but he did not come towards her. She did her best not to look at the smooth brown chest. The trouble was, that meant it was almost impossible not to look him in the eye.

  ‘Are you going to tell me what happened?’

  His eyes were intent, not hostile but not warm either. Katie did not know whether that was a relief or not.

  She said with difficulty, ‘I don’t—think I can.’

  His mouth compressed.

  ‘Can’t or won’t?’

  Katie could not answer. She shook her head, looking away.

  He sighed. ‘All right. We’ll rewind. Dinner on the terrace and I won’t lay a hand on you unless you ask me to. OK?’

  She dared a quick look at his face. His eyes were grave. Relieved, Katie gave a wavering smile. ‘OK.’

  ‘Then you’d better have another drink. Dinner will be later than I meant. I got sidetracked.’

  She read that as a criticism. ‘I’m sorry.’

  He gave her another glass of Asti Spumante and looked surprised.

  ‘Nothing to do with you. That phone call. Colleague in London who isn’t running things as well as he thought he would.’ He gave a bark of laughter. ‘Decided he needed advice.’

  She was glad of a chance to talk about a neutral subject, even though she knew nothing about his business. Difficult advice?’

  ‘Not when you’ve been doing it as long as I have.’ He sounded weary.

  Katie said curiously, ‘Is it hard work, making all that money?’

  Haydon shrugged. ‘Not hard. Boring.’ His voice was steely.

  There was a suppressed anger there which Katie recognised.

  ‘There are teachers at school like that,’ she said wisely. ‘It’s because you’ve been doing it too long. I bet I wouldn’t be bored.’

  He looked hard at her for an unreadable moment. ‘You’re interested in how money is made?’

  Katie was so startled she forgot her constraint. She laughed aloud.

  ‘I’m interested in you.’

  Hearing herself, she stopped dead as soon as she said it. But it was too late. For a second his eyes were blue flame.

  ‘Should I take that as an invitation?’

  Katie did not know what to say. His eyes bored into hers. She held her breath and could not speak. But then his lids came down, veiling his expression.

  After a moment he said, ‘Ah.’ He gave a little nod, as if storing it away for future investigation. Then, calmly, he returned to the former subject without further comment. ‘There’s an American company that has told the press it is going to take over Tremayne’s. It needs to be dealt with.’ His expression was not unreadable now, it was mocking. ‘Still interested?’

  Katie knew nothing about takeovers and cared less but, now he had offered her one, she was not going to let go of an impersonal safety net. She thought of a question hurriedly.

  ‘Is it bad for business to be taken over?’

  Haydon cast her a shrewd glance. ‘Not always,’ he said equably. ‘It’s bad for business to have rumours going, though. Especially when they’re not true.’

  Katie sipped the wine. She could not remember what had happened to her last glass. She did not think she had even tasted it. She sought for something sensible to say.

  ‘Can’t you just deny it?’

  Haydon was considering a well stocked rack of vegetables.

  ‘Nick tried that. Unfortunately the press are getting conflicting stories. Do you like roasted peppers or would you rather have potatoes?’

  ‘Peppers are fine.’ Katie found she was interested in spite of herself. ‘Was that what he wanted your advice about?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Katie waited. Haydon selected a number of red and green peppers and started to split and core them.

  ‘Well?’ she prompted.

  ‘I made a couple of suggestions,’ he said evasively.

  ‘Don’t you want to tell me your trade secrets?’ Katie teased.

  He pushed an impatient hand through his hair. ‘Frankly, I’d prefer to leave work behind. How do you like your wine?’

  Katie looked at her glass with surprise.

  ‘All right, I suppose.’

  ‘What appreciation,’ Haydon mocked.

  Katie shrugged and tasted obediently. She managed not to sneeze. It was aromatic behind the bubbles.

  ‘It’s nice. Refreshing,’ she said on a note of discovery. She drank again, savouring. ‘Almost not like wine at all.’

  Haydon gave a great shout of laughter. ‘Praise indeed.’

  Katie made a face at him but she laughed too. ‘Well, I don’t drink very much.’

  ‘So you said.’

  He picked up his own wine and toasted her silently. Katie was surprised.

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Only this afternoon.’

  She did not want to think about this afternoon. Or the brink to which it had brought her and about which something had to be done. And she had not the faintest idea what, or how long Haydon was going to stay at arm’s length while she thought about it.

  She felt a tremor deep inside her at the implications of that. ‘How clever of you to remember,’ she said repressively.

  He gave a silent laugh. ‘Oh, I’m good at that. I’m a good listener too.’

  For no reason she could think of, that made her uneasy.

  She gave him a doubtful look. ‘So I should be careful what I say to you?’

  His smile was lop-sided. ‘Aren’t you already?’

  Katie’s heart lurched. This was clearly a conversation that was going to need keeping on track. She said, ‘So what would you rather do?’ He gave her an incredulous look.

  She flushed and added hurriedly, ‘If your work bores you, I mean.’

  He went bac
k to his cooking. He was very efficient at it, Katie noticed.

  ‘I’d like to get back to my real work. In the laboratory.’

  He fanned the chopped peppers into a dish and drizzled olive oil over them. He looked round. Katie found a twofoot pepper mill and handed it to him.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said absently. ‘I like research. I’m good at it. And there are some really great problems at the moment. The new one is light steel.’

  Katie was lost. ‘What?’

  He put the dish of peppers in the oven and stood back, his expression totally absorbed.

  ‘Space flight,’ he said with relish. ‘Moon shuttles. The technology is almost there. But it takes way too much fuel to get the thing out of the earth’s atmosphere. So we need lighter steel to build the rockets. Or something as strong as steel with the weight of a feather. Solve that one and you can book your seat.’ His tone was distinctly wistful.

  Katie blinked. ‘You want to go to the moon?’

  ‘It would be interesting.’

  She was appalled. Haydon, coming out of his fantasy, saw it. He chuckled.

  ‘You needn’t look like that. It’s not going to happen just yet.’ He handed her a dish of olives and picked up the bottle. ‘Come on. We’ll go and look at the moon, at least.’

  He picked up his own glass and led the way onto the terrace. After a pause, Katie followed after him. It was hardly the most seductive invitation, after all, she thought with a grin.

  Haydon sat on the top step and put the bottle down beside him. He looked up. She dropped down beside him companionably.

  ‘Did you ever want to be an astronaut?’ she asked, intrigued.

  ‘All my life,’ Haydon said simply.

  ‘What?’ Katie was disconcerted. ‘You mean—even as a grown up?’

  He stopped looking at the moon. ‘Why not?’ He sounded distinctly put out.

  ‘Well . . .’ She floundered.

  ‘Astronauts are grown up, you know. About as grown up as you get.’

  ‘Yes, of course, but—’

  He shook his head mockingly. ‘Women are all the same. Don’t see the point of pure research. Everything has to have a market value.’

  ‘That’s not—’

  ‘Just because the space programme doesn’t sell anything—’

  Katie flung up a hand. ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Astronauts are great. Get my vote every time. All right?’

  He broke off. ‘Sorry.’ He sounded rather embarrassed. ‘Old argument.’

  Katie was ruffled. ‘Who’s arguing?’

  Haydon swirled the wine round in his glass. ‘My ex-wife,’ he said at last. His tone was dry.

  ‘Oh.’ Katie was disconcerted.

  He looked up. ‘No reason to take it out on you, though.’

  ‘No.’

  In the moonlight he was a shadow, a warm, breathing shadow. He did not attempt to touch her. But Katie suddenly felt oddly close to him. By day she would not have asked, but the darkness gave her courage.

  ‘Do you miss her?’

  ‘Carla?’ The idea seemed to startle him. ‘Good God, no. It was all too long ago.’

  ‘Oh.’ Katie digested that. ‘You don’t still see her, then?’

  She saw his shoulders lift in the darkness. She was almost sure the indifference in his voice was not assumed.

  ‘She calls me up sometimes about business. She got shares in my company as part of the divorce settlement.’ He drained his wine in an angry movement. ‘There is a school of thought which holds that was why she married me in the first place. If I’d known, I could have given them to her without the trouble of going through that farce.’

  Katie was lost. ‘Farce?’

  Haydon poured more wine into his glass. Some of it slopped onto the stone step. Katie heard it.

  ‘Marriage,’ he said shortly.

  Katie considered that. It bothered her for some reason.

  ‘You don’t think much of marriage?’ she asked cautiously.

  He drank again. ‘If you want a way for one human being to slap a harness on another and keep them in it till they drop, then marriage is the best invention ever,’ he said in a hard voice.

  Katie said nothing. It sounded too like her father. She had never been able to argue with him either.

  After a pause, he went on, ‘Me, I like my freedom.’

  She bit her lip. He had certainly reached for her like a man who enjoyed his freedom.

  ‘I can believe that,’ she said drily.

  ‘Offended?’ he said with a dryness to match her own.

  Katie pulled herself together. She even managed a light laugh.

  ‘Why should I be offended? A woman likes to know where she stands.’

  ‘And now you do.’ He stood up and looked down at her. ‘But, like I said, it is your decision.’

  Katie tilted her face up to him. The sky behind him was alive with stars. It made him seem taller. She had a disconcerting sense of how powerful he was, not just physically.

  As if he read her thoughts, Haydon reached down and caressed her cheek. Katie sat very still, too shocked to move. But it was the briefest possible touch. She had barely registered the warmth of his fingers when he let her go and was mounting the steps.

  He went inside and soft music wafted out of the salon windows. At first it was so gentle that Katie was hardly sure that she was hearing it: strings, a silvery flute, angelic voices as bright and pure as the stars over her head. In the ravishment of her senses, she was not even sure whether she imagined the murmur that drifted back to her.

  ‘Don’t make me wait too long, Katie.’

  When he came outside again with their supper he was companionably matter-of-fact. He stayed so throughout the meal. When she announced she was going to bed, he made no attempt to dissuade her, or to touch her as he wished her a friendly goodnight.

  So Katie concluded that she had imagined it after all.

  That did not stop her lying awake, listening for a firm step on the spiral staircase to her turret room. The night was hot. She tossed and turned between the linen sheets, watching a fuzzy moon and trying to make up her mind what she would do if Haydon arrived in her room.

  She was not put to the test. That first day set the pattern.

  Katie would get up when the sun hit the valley and take her chalks to one of the many isolated corners of the garden. No matter how early she rose, she always found that Haydon had been in the kitchen first. It was like the Marie Celeste, she thought. There was warm bread, coffee hot in the pot, fruit. . .

  But of the lord of the place there was no sign.

  She would not see him all day. She drew in the morning and painted in the afternoon. In fact, she worked so hard that she would have had to buy more oiled paper if the house had not been so well stocked.

  Haydon left her severely undisturbed. And then—as night fell—oil lamps would be lit on the terrace. Going shyly downstairs, Katie would find herself welcomed with wine and good food and celestial music. It was like paradise.

  Or it would have been if she had not hanging over her all the time that knowledge that, sooner or later, there was a question which had to be answered. Not because Haydon would make her. But because she would.

  On the fourth evening, Katie took her courage in both hands.

  ‘Haydon, why have you brought me here? Given me all this?’

  They were sitting on the terrace looking out into a sky that still bore the faint smeary traces of a spectacular sunset. It was warm. There were small sounds of woodland animals in the garden below them. Moths darted at the glass lamp.

  Haydon leaned forward and looked at her narrowly. But his tone was light when he said, ‘I thought it was the minimum the creative artist required.’

  Katie noticed the evasion but was quite grateful to be sidetracked. It postponed the question a little longer. She laughed aloud. ‘The minimum is time and a few materials. Stars and angel choirs are luxury.’

  Haydon smiled but his eyes were watch
ful. ‘If you are that flexible, why did Jonas say you absolutely had to get away?’

  Her laughter died.

  He leaned back, playing with the stern of his wine glass. ‘Tell,’ he invited softly.

  Katie hesitated. But school seemed on another planet. All of a sudden it seemed possible to talk about the Headmaster’s unwanted attentions. She did.

  Unlike. Simon, Haydon was shocked. There was a stunned silence. Then he said incredulously, ‘Are you sure?’

  Katie shrugged. It convinced him more than protestations.

  ‘But that’s Gothic.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And illegal. Have you reported it?’

  Katie looked at him pityingly. ‘To whom? The governors? Whose side do you think they would be on? He’s a good headmaster. The governors aren’t going to want to go to war over a junior art teacher. Plenty more where I came from.’

  Haydon was appalled. ‘No wonder you wanted to get away.’

  ‘I’d have got it sorted eventually. It was just getting in the way of my work, that’s all. Coming out here has been a real boost to my output.’

  He looked wry. ‘I’m flattered.’

  ‘So you should be,’ she returned smartly. ‘I was building up to a real block.’

  ‘Because of this Grove?’

  ‘He must have been part of it.’ For the first time she found she was almost sorry for the bullying Headmaster. It was a liberation. She stretched out a hand and flicked at a hovering moth. ‘Away with him.’

  Haydon looked at her speculatively. ‘And is that why you are so suspicious of men?’

  Katie was too relaxed in the evening warmth to scent danger. ‘Suspicious?’ she said lazily. ‘Me?’

  He smiled. ‘Are you saying you aren’t?’

  Katie laughed and flicked at another moth. ‘What have I got to be suspicious of?’

  ‘Every word.’ They were so alone they could have been on the moon. ‘Every touch.’

  Katie went very still. She did not say anything. She could not

  In the dramatic light of the oil lamp Haydon’s face was all clefts and hollows, the blue eyes hidden. It made him look like an inquisitor, Katie thought.

  He said quite gently, ‘I can set the scene. I could probably seduce you if I tried.’

  He paused, waiting. She shook her head helplessly, not denying it So.this was where the evasions came to an end.