Flora's Defiance

‘Good evening, Flora. I didn’t realise that you were still in the house,’ Angelo imparted, emerging from a door off the imposing landing and taking her uncomfortably by surprise. Garbed in an elegant dinner jacket, black hair spiky and damp above his lean, darkly handsome face, he looked stunningly handsome and well groomed.

Hugely disturbed by the unexpected encounter, Flora met his brilliant blue dark-lashed eyes and felt as though she had fallen on an electric fence to be fried. Disquiet ricocheted through her slim length, her cheeks hollowing, her soft full lips compressing with tension. ‘I’m afraid I stayed as long as I could with Mariska because I’m leaving tomorrow, but now I’m absolutely bushed.’

‘My driver will take you back to your hotel,’ Angelo cut in smoothly.

‘But I don’t need …’

‘I insist, Angelo incised without hesitation. ‘You look exhausted.’

Flora was not best pleased to be told that she looked less than her best. It did not have quite the same flattering ring as the ‘beautiful’ compliment had had, she reflected wryly. Nor did she like Angelo insisting anything in that dominant tone of voice that seemed to come so naturally to him. But as she parted her lips to argue the point, she belatedly realised that they were not alone.

A platinum-blonde dark-eyed woman in a very smart sleeveless white cocktail frock with a glittering diamond pendant at her throat was standing in the hall and clearly waiting on Angelo. He introduced Flora to the other woman with effortless courtesy, and Flora wondered what it would actually take to embarrass him for as far as she could see he was not even slightly ruffled by the need to make that introduction. Was Bregitta Etten his current girlfriend? When Angelo had slept with Flora earlier that day had he been unfaithful to this other woman? Or was Bregitta merely one of the endless parade of eager females in Angelo’s life whom Julie had scornfully mentioned? Her sister had made it clear that Angelo was an unabashed womaniser who made the most of his freedom and Flora could only wish now that she had paid more heed to the warning and learned to be more cautious around him.

While Angelo organised Flora’s lift back to the hotel, the very beautiful blonde rested possessive stroking fingers on his arm. Flora discovered that she would very much have liked to slap that hand away from him and was horribly shocked by that instant in which she reacted like a jealous cat who wanted to scratch. Frozen several feet away from the couple, she avoided making eye contact and left the house at speed when a sleek four-wheel-drive car drew up at the front steps and the driver climbed out to open the passenger door.

‘I’ll phone you,’ Angelo informed her calmly.

Flora turned mutinous eyes to his lean strong face and the challenge she saw there, but she was all too conscious of Bregitta’s curious gaze and she forced a casual smile and a nod before climbing into the waiting car …

CHAPTER FOUR

FLORA arrived home the following afternoon and barely paused for breath before she headed round to Charlbury St Helens’ veterinary surgery, which also accommodated a small boarding kennels, to pick up her pets.

Jess Martin, the youngest and newest vet to join the practice, who also lived on the premises, greeted her in the reception area. A small curvaceous brunette, Jess organised Flora’s bill while the nurse went to fetch the animals from the kennels at the back. Skipper, a tiny black and white Jack Russell with more personality than size, raced out, his lead trailing, and hurled his stocky little body frantically at Flora’s legs. Mango the cat, a magnificent black tom of imposing size, was in his box and steadfastly ignoring his mistress. He always sulked when she returned after leaving him.

‘All present and correct,’ Jess remarked, and then with a concerned look in her unusually light grey eyes, for she knew why Flora had had to board her pets at such short notice, she added, ‘How are you? How was it over there?’

Flora grimaced and for a moment in receipt of that sympathetic look she did not trust herself to speak. ‘I managed.’

‘And your niece? ‘ Jess asked eagerly. ‘Have you got her out in the car?’

‘I’m afraid it’s not going to be that simple. There are quite a few legal formalities to be got through first,’ Flora confided ruefully. ‘And Willem’s brother, Angelo, has custody of Mariska at the minute and he’s applying to adopt her as well …’

Jess looked surprised. ‘But isn’t he single?’

‘So am I,’ Flora pointed out wryly. ‘And he’s had a lot more contact with my niece than I’ve had.’

‘But you’d make a terrific mother.’ Jess chose to concentrate on the most positive angle. ‘I’ve been told you were sadly missed locally when you stopped childminding and went into the bed-and-breakfast business instead.’

Her detached house, which Flora had inherited from the great-aunt she had been named a

fter, was set back well from the road and was sheltered from the pretty village green by mature trees. Tourists loved the village of Charlbury St Helens and Flora’s guest-house business kept her very busy indeed. When her rooms were fully booked she often employed Jess Martin’s mother, Sharon, to help her out. As Skipper raced down the back garden to acquaint himself with all his favourite places and Mango the cat stalked out to settle on the patio to sunbathe, Flora tried not to think about whether or not she was ever going to get the chance to bring Mariska home to England with her.

And what if you have fallen pregnant? an anxious little voice whispered at the back of her mind and all the worry that she had tried to suppress shot through her taut length like a gunshot piercing tender flesh. It would be ten days at least before she would know either way, so there was no point working herself up into a state over the issue, she told herself firmly. But Flora was still so angry with herself about what had happened in Amsterdam that she was unable to shake free of her inner turmoil.

Once she had believed that sex should be very much part of love and that it should never be separate from it; that conviction had happily guided her through the five years she had spent dating Peter, whom she had met at university and planned to marry. When Peter had dumped her after the employment tribunal, without ever having slept with her, everything that Flora had once believed in had begun to fall apart. She had wanted to believe that she and Peter were the perfect couple but had learnt the hard way that they were not. Over time, his indisputable lack of sexual interest had battered her self-esteem almost beyond hope of recall and she had switched off as far as men were concerned, too scared of being hurt and humiliated again to take a second chance on finding love.

But, in many ways, Flora had been scarred almost as much by her own childhood as by Peter, for she had never been able to forget her mother’s heartbreak or her father’s constant self-serving lies and deceptions. Love had almost destroyed her mother, who had suffered several episodes of serious depression before she could finally work up the strength to build a new life without her unfaithful husband. And sadly, Flora recalled wistfully, her loving mother had only lived eighteen short months after embarking on that valiant fresh start.

Yet her mother had never stopped believing in true love and commitment. So, how, Flora asked herself painfully, could she have contrived to have lost her virginity to Angelo van Zaal? He hadn’t even realised he was her first lover either. She had nothing in common with him. He was a man who had yet to take any woman seriously and he had offered her no promises or reassurances. Yet neither of those very sensible points had mattered once he kissed her. His kisses had burned through her like a forest fire, reducing her long-cherished convictions to ashes.

She had reached the mature age of twenty-six without realising just how vulnerable she might be with the wrong man. And Angelo was decidedly the wrong man. He was a very wealthy and sophisticated tycoon and at heart he was as cold as ice. But if that was true why was he offering to give Willem’s daughter a home? Mariska was not even related to him by blood, Flora conceded ruefully, torn in opposing directions and disturbed by the bits that didn’t add up in her view of him. To be fair to him he had looked out for the little girl’s interests from birth. Seemingly he had also done his utmost to help Willem and Julie. Evidently Angelo had a strong streak of family loyalty and an active social conscience but neither trait made her feel any more comfortable about having shared the greatest act of intimacy there was with him.

Four days later, Angelo phoned Flora.

‘Why are you calling? ‘ she demanded sharply.

‘You’re phoning my house daily but contriving not to speak to me,’ Angelo returned in a mocking reminder.