Rescued by the Brooding Tycoon

course, he was naturally concerned to know about his son’s companion. But she sensed there was more. His eyes, boring into her, seemed to combine knowledge, curiosity and harsh suspicion in equal measure. It was unnerving

He made a polite speech of gratitude for Darius’s life, then introduced his wife, Janine, who smiled and also spoke of gratitude. She struck Harriet as a modest, retiring woman, which probably suited Amos.

‘And this is my daughter, Freya,’ she said, indicating a tall young woman beside her.

This was the wife the powerful Amos had chosen for Darius. She didn’t look like the kind of female who would shrink back and let herself be a pawn. She was tall, fair, well, but not extravagantly dressed, with an air of self- possession. She shook Harriet’s hand vigorously and said all the polite things before hailing Darius with an unmistakable air of sisterly derision. Harriet discovered that she liked Freya a lot.

There were more arrivals, people approaching the dais to be greeted, and the crowd moved on and shifted her with it. When Darius began to lead her around the room, introducing her to people, she couldn’t resist looking back and found Amos staring after her.

Glancing about her, Harriet was more than ever glad that she was dressed in style. This was a gathering of the rich and mighty, and at least she looked as though she belonged amongst them, however fake it might be.

It was clear that Darius really did belong in this gathering. Many of them knew him and spoke respectfully. They knew he’d taken a hit, but so had they, and his fortunes could yet recover, so they addressed him as they had always done, crossing their fingers.

Harriet found herself remembering the day she’d overheard him on the phone vowing, ‘no mercy!’ How long ago that seemed now that she’d discovered his other side. But these people had never discovered it, and wouldn’t have believed it if she’d told them.

And nor, she realised, would Darius want them to believe it. Much of his power depended on a ruthless image.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked suddenly.

‘Matter? Nothing?’

‘Why are you giving me that curious look?’

‘I didn’t know I was.’

‘What’s going on in that mind of yours?’

‘Nothing. My mind is a pure blank.’

He grinned. ‘You’re a very annoying woman, you know that?’

‘Have you only just found that out?’

‘I guess I’m still learning. Come on, let’s have a good time.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

SUDDENLY Darius’s face lit up at something he’d seen over Harriet’s shoulder. ‘Jackson, you young devil. Where have you been?’

The young man approaching them was sufficiently like Darius to be his brother, yet better looking. His features were more regular, less interesting, she thought. Most women would have called him handsome.

He greeted Darius with a friendly thump on the shoulder and stood back to survey him with pleasure.

‘I’ve been abroad,’ he said. ‘I just got back yesterday to find that nobody had seen hide nor hair of you for ages. Where did you vanish to?’

‘Herringdean. I’m the unexpected owner of an island off the south coast. This lady-’ he drew Harriet forward ‘- lives there and has been kind enough to be my guide and friend.’

Jackson beamed and engulfed her hand in his. ‘I don’t know how you put up with him,’ he said.

‘Neither do I,’ she said, liking him immensely.

‘Did I hear right? Herringdean? The Herringdean?’

‘I don’t know of any other,’ she said.

Delight broke over his face. ‘You’ve got fulmars there, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, plenty of them. They’re beautiful.’ Light dawned. ‘Hey, I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? On television?’

‘I’ve done a programme or two,’ he agreed. ‘But never one about fulmars. Could you and I have a talk some time soon?’

‘Of course we can.’

‘Then you can really have a deep discussion about fulmars,’ Darius observed. ‘I don’t know how you can bear the suspense.’

Laughing, the other two turned on him.

‘They’re birds,’ Harriet said. ‘Very big and lovely. They look like gulls but they’re really petrels.’

‘Fascinating!’ said Darius, who wouldn’t have known a gull from a petrel if they’d attacked him together.

‘They nest high up on cliffs,’ Harriet continued, ‘and they’re one of the beauties of Herringdean.’

Darius regarded her with comic irony. ‘And I’ve owned these fabulous creatures all this time and you didn’t tell me?’

‘Nobody owns fulmars,’ Harriet said. ‘It’s they who own the world, especially that bit of it called Herringdean.’

Jackson looked at her with appreciation. ‘I see you’re an expert,’ he said. ‘Don’t waste yourself on this fellow. Let’s go and have that talk now.’

‘Yes, be off while I make some duty calls,’ Darius said.

She was briefly afraid that the exchange might have offended him, but he kissed her cheek, saying, ‘Take care of her, Jackson.’

Now she remembered Darius saying that his brother was a naturalist. ‘Not an academic. He just works a lot with animals and charities. Does TV a bit, goes off on expeditions. You’d find him interesting.’

And she did. Jackson knew his stuff, and as she also knew hers they plunged into a knowledgeable discussion that pleased them both.

Darius did his duty, going from acquaintance to acquaintance, saying the right things, avoiding the wrong things, smiling mechanically, performing as expected. Nothing in his demeanour revealed that he was intensely conscious of Harriet and Jackson sitting at a side table, their heads close together, each so absorbed that they seemed to have forgotten the rest of the world.

Gradually, he managed to get near enough to eavesdrop but what he heard brought him no comfort. He couldn’t discern every word, but Jackson clearly said, ‘It depends whether you’re talking about northern fulmars or southern fulmars…’

His last words were drowned out, but then Harriet said, ‘It’s a pity that…any old rubbish…almost makes you want to…’

Jackson asked a question and she replied eagerly, ‘That’s always the way with Procellariidae, don’t you think?’

‘What?’

Jackson looked up and grinned. ‘Here’s my brother. Perhaps you’d better return to him before he goes out of his mind.’

He touched Darius on the shoulder and departed. Darius drew Harriet’s arm through his, saying, ‘I hardly dare ask what you were talking about. What the blue blazes are procellar-whatever?’

‘Procellariidae. It’s just the name of the family that fulmars belong to, just like crows and magpies are Corvids-’

‘Are they really? You’ll be telling me next that wrens are dinosaurs.’

‘Oh, no, wrens are Troglodytidae.’ Her lips twitched. ‘There, and you thought of me as a silly little creature who didn’t know any long words.’

‘Well, if I was foolish enough to think that you’ve made me sorry. I feel as if I’ve been walked over by hobnailed boots.’

‘Good,’ she teased. ‘Serve you right.’