When the Devil Drives by Sara Craven Read Free Book Online Page A

time he didn't. She wondered sadly if he would forget her too once
    she no longer lived at Chalfont House.
    'Planning to throw yourself in, Joanna?'
    She started violently. She'd been so deep in her reverie, she hadn't
    been aware of Cal Blackstone's approach, until he was standing right
    beside her.
    'I'm not the suicidal type,' she said, recovering herself swiftly. 'But I
    might make a good murderess.'
    'That explains your choice of meeting-place, no doubt.' He looked
    around him with appreciation. 'Perhaps I should warn you that I'm a
    strong swimmer.' He perched on the guard-rail separating the path
    from the water, and looked at her. She returned his gaze unwillingly.
    He was casually dressed today in cream trousers that hugged his
    strong thighs and long, muscular legs, and a short-sleeved navy shirt,
    open at the neck. His chest and forearms were tanned, and shadowed
    with dark hair. She was sharply and disturbingly aware of his strong
    male physicality. Hurriedly she looked past him to the water.
    'And also there's a witness.' She pointed to the dinghy and its
    occupant.
    'So it will have to be ground glass in my porridge after all.'
    She winced inwardly at this passing reference to the fact that they
    would soon be having breakfast together. God, but he was sure of
    himself, she thought bitterly.
    'I presume you've talked to Simon,' Cal went on.
    'Yes.' She paused. 'It seems you were right. But it won't be necessary
    to do an audit. I've decided to make up the deficit myself with some
    money I— happen to have.'
    'He doesn't deserve that.'
    'He's my brother,' Joanna said shortly. She gave him a straight look.
    'Now that I'm back in Northwaite for good, I'm planning to get work
    of some kind. I want to know if you'll allow me to pay off his
    gambling debts out of my salary as and when I can afford it.'
    'You'd actually be prepared to do that?'
    'Yes, I would,' she said. 'Simon's weak, and he's been a fool—I
    acknowledge that. But if you go ahead with your threat and make him
    bankrupt, then Fiona will leave him, and, although I don't care for her
    very much, he'll have lost everything in the world that he loves.'
    'My offer stands,' he said softly. 'It is not open to negotiation. But then
    you knew that already, didn't you?'
    'I hoped,' she said, 'that some last-minute stirrings of decency might
    prevail with you.'
    'I've always found them an unnecessary luxury,' he said calmly. 'Stop
    beating about the bush, Joanna. Do you accept my offer or not?'
    In the folds of her cream dress, her hands were balled into fists, the
    nails scoring the soft flesh of her palms. She looked past him at the
    encircling hills, patterned by sunlight and cloud.
    'I must,' she said. 'I won't let your sick plans wreck Simon's marriage.'
    'He'd probably be better off without the silly bitch.'
    'Or lose him his unborn child.'
    Cal Blackstone's smile was satirical. 'A boy to carry on the Chalfont
    name?'
    'Perhaps.'
    'How very dynastic.'
    'Isn't that what all men want?'
    He shrugged. 'I'm unable to speak for the world at large. For myself, I
    have no immediate plans to make you pregnant, if that's what you
    want to know.'
    Joanna was aware of a ridiculous urge to blush. 'I'm pleased to hear it.'
    She made her voice as offhand as possible. 'For the record, what are
    your immediate plans?'
    He looked meditatively down at the water. 'I thought we might have
    dinner together this evening.' He paused. 'Followed, of course, by
    breakfast tomorrow morning.'
    It was no more than she'd expected, and exactly what she'd feared.
    Dry-throated, she said, 'You—don't waste any time, do you?'
    'I've wasted far too much already.' He looked her over, brows raised.
    'Don't look so stricken, Mrs Bentham. You've been married, and
    survived. You know what happens.'
    She made herself stare back at him. 'Is that a proposal, Mr
    Blackstone?'
    He grinned. 'Not at all. I'm not the marrying kind.'
    'And how long is this—informal arrangement destined to last?'