Ruthless Awakening Read online

  But, to her shock and disappointment, Aunt Kezia had rounded on her. ‘You’ll do nothing of the kind,’ she declared tight-lipped. ‘I won’t have you putting yourself forward, giving yourself airs, because it only leads to trouble. And there’s been too much of that in the past,’ she added with angry bitterness. ‘Quite apart from this nonsense with Miss Caroline. And after all I said to you, too.’

  She drew a harsh breath. ‘Kindly remember that you’re only here on sufferance, my girl, and learn to keep in the background more than you have been doing while you’re living in Mrs Seymour’s house.’

  ‘But it isn’t her house,’ Rhianna objected. ‘Carrie told me it really belongs to her cousin, Diaz, but he’s away most of the time, either living on his other estates in South America or travelling all over the world as a mining consultant. So her parents look after it for him. She says when he decides to get married they’ll have to find somewhere else to live.’

  ‘Miss Caroline says a deal too much,’ her aunt said grimly. ‘And I’m still going to have a word with your teacher. Knock this acting nonsense on the head once and for all.’

  And, in spite of Rhianna’s tearful protests, she’d done exactly that.

  ‘Poor you,’ Carrie had said, her forehead wrinkled with concern when Rhianna had eventually told her what had happened. ‘She’s so hard on you all the time. Has she always been like that?’

  Rhianna shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she said unhappily. ‘I only met her for the first time when she came to Mummy’s funeral and told me that she’d been appointed my legal guardian and I had to live with her. Before that I’d never heard from her at all—not even on my birthday or at Christmas. And I could tell she was angry about having to take me.’ She sighed. ‘I’m not really welcome here either. I just wish someone would tell me what I’ve done that’s so wrong.’

  ‘It’s not you,’ Carrie said hesitantly. ‘I—I’m sure it’s not.’

  Rhianna bit her lip. ‘You said once you’d heard your parents talking about me. Would you tell me what they said?’

  Carrie’s face was pink with dismay. After a pause, she said, ‘It was ages ago, so I’m not sure I remember exactly. Besides, I shouldn’t have been listening anyway,’ she added glumly. ‘And I’m sure it would be better coming from your aunt.’

  ‘She won’t talk about it,’ Rhianna said bitterly. ‘She doesn’t talk about anything.’ She looked beseechingly at the other girl. ‘Oh, please, Carrie. I really need to know why they all seem to hate me so much.’

  Carrie sighed. ‘Well—I was on the window seat in the drawing room, reading, and my parents came in. They didn’t realise I was there, and Mummy was saying, “I can hardly believe that Kezia Trewint would do such a thing. Agree to take in that woman’s child—and have the gall to ask to bring her here.” Daddy said he supposed she hadn’t had much choice in the matter, and he told Mummy not to do anything too hasty, because they’d never find anyone to run the house and cook as well as your aunt.’

  She swallowed. ‘Then he said, “And it’s hardly the child’s fault. You can’t blame her for things that her mother did years before she was born. And that’s how it was, so don’t start thinking anything nonsensical.” Then Mummy got cross and said that your mother was—not a nice person,’ Carrie added in a little embarrassed rush. ‘And that the apple never fell far from the tree, and what the hell would Diaz say when he heard? Daddy said, “God only knows,” and he thought that everyone should reserve judge- and give you a chance. Then he went off to the golf club.’

  She added tearfully, ‘I’m so sorry, Rhianna. I should never have listened, but when I met you I was really glad, because you looked so unhappy and lost, and I told myself that Daddy was right. Only now I’m afraid I’ve made everything a hundred times worse.’

  ‘No,’ Rhianna said slowly. ‘No, you haven’t—I promise. Because I—I really wanted to know.’ She flung back her head. ‘Besides, none of it’s true. Mummy wasn’t a bit like that. She was a wonderful person.’

  And so beautiful too, she thought, with all that deep, dark auburn hair that Daddy said was the colour of mahogany, and the green eyes that tilted at the corners when she laughed. Whereas my hair is just—red.

  She swallowed. ‘After Daddy died she got a job as a care worker, and the people she visited really loved her. They all said so. And Mrs Jessop told someone that if Mummy hadn’t been so involved with looking after everyone else she might have thought about herself more, and realised there was something wrong. Seen a doctor before it was—too late.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘So, you see, there must be some mistake. There has to be.’

  Carrie gave her a comforting pat. ‘I’m sure,’ she said, but her anxious eyes said that even if her parents had been wrong, that still didn’t explain Kezia Trewint’s strange, unloving attitude to her only living relative.

  Understanding that had still been a long way in the future, Rhianna thought wearily, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes. In the meantime it had remained on the edge of her life, a cloud no bigger than a man’s hand, yet occasionally ominously hinting at the storm to come.

  Like the day she’d encountered Diaz Penvarnon for the first time.

  It had been, she remembered, one of those burning, windless days in August, when the sun seemed close enough to touch.

  They’d been down at the beach all day, slipping in and out of the unruffled sea like seals, Rhianna by then as competent and confident a swimmer as the other two. It had been Simon who’d called a halt, explaining that he needed to get back as his parents had friends coming to dinner.

  In spite of the heat, it had always been a matter of honour to see who could get to the top of the cliff path ahead of the others. The girls rarely won against Simon’s long legs, but this particular afternoon he had dropped one of his new trainers in the loose sand at the foot of the cliff and halted to retrieve it, so that Carrie and Rhianna had found themselves unexpectedly ahead, flying neck and neck up the stony track.

  And when Carrie had stumbled Rhianna had got there first, laughing and breathless, head down as she launched herself towards some invisible finishing tape.

  Only to cannon into something tall, solid and all too real, finding, as she had staggered back with a gasp of shock, strong hands grasping her shoulders to steady her, while a man’s cool voice had said, ‘So—what have we here? A fleeing trespasser? This is private land, you know.’

  She looked up dazedly into the face above her, swarthy and lean, with high cheekbones only to see the faint amusement fade from the firm mouth and the grey eyes become as icy as snow clouds in January. He studied her in return, his glance shifting with a kind of incredulity from her unruly cloud of hair to her long-lashed eyes and her startled, parted lips.

  She said, ‘I’m Rhianna Carlow. I—I live here.’

  He drew a swift sharp breath, lifting his hands from her and stepping back in a repudiation that was as instant as it was unmistakable.

  He said, half to himself, ‘Of course—the child. I’d almost forgotten.’

  ‘Diaz!’ Carrie was there, hurling herself at him. ‘How truly great! No one said you were coming.’

  ‘It was intended as a surprise,’ he said, returning her exuberant hug with more restraint before he looked back at Rhianna. He added unsmilingly, ‘It seems to be a day for them.’

  And she thought with inexplicable desolation, Someone else who doesn’t want me to be here…

  Simon’s panting arrival provided a momentary diversion, but the greetings were barely over before Moira Seymour came sauntering across the lawn towards them, cool in a blue cotton dress, and fanning herself languidly with a broad-brimmed straw hat.

  She said, ‘Simon, my pet, your mother’s telephoned, asking where you are. Carrie, darling, get cleaned up for tea, please.’ Her glance flickered dismissively over Rhianna. ‘And I’m sure, young woman, that your aunt can find something for you to do.’

  The first direct remark Mrs Seymour had ever ma
de to her, Rhianna realised. And one that made her inferior position in the household quite explicit. Turning her back into the intruder. The trespasser that Diaz Penvarnon had just called her. A name that might have started as a joke, but was now, suddenly, something very different.

  My first starring role, Rhianna thought bitterly, and one that will probably haunt me, for so many reasons, as long as I live, wherever I go, and whatever happens to me.

  Diaz—Diaz Penvarnon…

  He was a chain, she told herself, linking her with the past, which must be broken now that he was out of her life for ever.

  I’ve got to start thinking of him as a stranger, she thought, almost feverishly. I must…

  But from that first moment of meeting he’d imprinted himself indelibly on her consciousness, and Rhianna had found her life changing once more—and not for the better, either.

  Because she had once more been strictly relegated to the flat over the stables and its immediate vicinity, pretty much reduced to the status of non-person again, while a protesting Carrie had simply been whipped away and absorbed into the sudden surge of activities at the house itself, putting her out of reach for the duration of the owner’s visit.

  The owner…

  Even at a distance, Rhianna had sensed that the whole place seemed to have lost its languid, almost melancholy atmosphere and become—re-energised.

  And that had been even without the constant stream of visitors filling the place at weekends, flocking down to the cove to swim and sunbathe, or play tennis on the newly marked court at the side of the house. Not forgetting the dinner parties that went on into the early hours, with music spilling out through the open windows into the warm nights, and dancers moving on the terrace.

  With Diaz Penarvon at the forefront of it all.

  On the few occasions that Rhianna had dared venture further than the stable yard she had seen that. Had recognised that his tall figure seemed to be everywhere, exercising effortless dominion over his surroundings, as if he’d never been absent, with the cool, incisive voice she’d remembered only too well issuing orders that were immediately obeyed.

  ‘And I wonder how Madam likes that?’ Rhianna had overheard Mrs Welling, the daily help, comment with a chuckle to Jacky Besant, who worked in the grounds, while they were enjoying a quiet smoke in the yard.

  ‘Not much, I reckon.’ Jacky had also seemed amused. ‘But she’s no need to fret. He’ll be gone again soon enough, and then she’ll have it easy again.’

  Maybe we all will, Rhianna had thought, stifling a sigh.

  It had occurred to her that Diaz wasn’t a bit as she’d imagined when Carrie had first told her about him.

  For one thing she’d assumed he’d be much older. Physically much heavier, too. Not lean, rangy, and possessed of a dynamism she’d been able to recognise even at her immature age.

  ‘He’s what they call a babe magnet,’ Simon, himself sidelined under the new regime, had commented resentfully when Rhianna, sent on an errand by her aunt, had met him emerging from the village Post Office. ‘Tall, dark and mega-rich. My parents say that every female in Cornwall under thirty is trying to have a crack at him.’

  ‘Well, I think he’s vile,’ Rhianna said vehemently, remembering how those extraordinary eyes—almost silver under their dark fringe of lashes—had frozen her.

  Recalling too how she’d seen him in a corner of the terrace one evening, when she’d slipped round to listen to the music. How she’d become aware of a movement in the shadows and realised he was there, entwined with some blonde girl in a way that had made her burn with embarrassment, together with other sensations less easy to define.

  And how, as he’d pushed the dress from his companion’s shoulders, she’d turned and run back to her own domain, and not ventured out at night again.

  Now, she added with renewed emphasis, ‘Sick-making.’

  Simon grinned faintly. ‘Keep thinking that way.’ He paused. ‘Fancy going down to the harbour for an ice cream or a Coke at Rollo’s Café?’

  She shook her head. ‘I—I have to get back.’ It was only partly true. She didn’t want to admit that she’d been sent out with the exact money to pay for her aunt’s requirements and no more.

  ‘You can be spared for ten minutes, surely?’ Simon said reasonably. ‘And you need something cool before you bike back to Penvarnon or you’ll be roasted.’ He paused. ‘My treat.’

  She flushed with pleasure. Simon the cool and totally gorgeous was actually offering to buy her an ice cream. Normally he didn’t take a great deal of notice of her, when Carrie was there. They’d been friends long before she came on the scene, and she’d always accepted that, told herself it was nasty of her to feel even slightly envious.

  But now Carrie was occupied, and she had this one blissful chance to spend a little while with Simon on her own. Without, she thought, having to share him. And instantly felt thoroughly ashamed of herself.

  Then she saw Simon smiling at her, and drew a small, happy breath. ‘I mustn’t be too long,’ she temporised.

  He bought their ice creams, and they sat on the harbour wall in the sunshine, watching the boats and chatting about everything and nothing, until Rhianna said regretfully she really had to get back, and Simon lifted her down from the rough stones.

  ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘This has been great. We must do it again.’

  As she’d cycled back to Penvarnon her heart had been singing. It might only been half an hour, but for Rhianna it had become thirty minutes framed in gold. A pivotal moment for a lonely girl on the verge of adolescence. Heady stuff.

  But certainly not enough to provide the foundation for any dreams about the future.

  But I didn’t know that then, she thought unhappily. And it was long, long in the future before I realised that by the time you’re sure of your dream and want it to come true it may be completely beyond your reach.

  She was startled out of her reverie by the train manager’s voice announcing the express’s imminent arrival at her station.

  Rhianna rose, reaching for her sunglasses, reluctantly collecting her suitcase and dress carrier as she prepared to alight.

  You don’t have to do this, an inner voice urged. You could stay right here, extend your ticket to Penzance, and from there catch the next train back to London. Then make the excuse you’ve been hit by some virus. Summer flu. Anything…

  Carrie will be disappointed if you don’t show, but that will surely be a minor issue when she has so much else to be happy about.

  And if you can’t stand the idea of London, then get yourself to the nearest airport. You’ve got your passport in your bag, plus your credit cards, so buy a flight somewhere—anywhere—and chill out for a while.

  And stop—stop agonising over the past. Because there’s nothing you can do—not without ruining Carrie’s happiness. And that’s never been an option.

  But she was already caught up in the small stream of people who were also leaving the train. The door in front of her had opened, and she was stepping down into the sunlight.

  It was hot, but Rhianna felt the fine hairs on her arms react as if a chill wind had touched them.

  She paused, all her senses suddenly alert, and saw him.

  He was waiting at the back of the platform, taller and darker than anyone else in the bustling crowd around them. A shadow in the sun. His anger like a raised fist. Waiting for her, as she’d somehow known he would be. As she’d felt him deep in her heart—her bones—even while she was trying to convince herself that he’d be long gone, a thousand miles away, and that she had nothing more to fear.

  Then, as their eyes met, Diaz Penvarnon began to walk towards her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  RETREAT was impossible, of course. There were people behind her, and she was being carried forward by their momentum. Towards him.

  And then a voice beside her said, ‘It’s Rhianna Carlow, isn’t it? Lady Ariadne from Castle Pride. This is a bit of luck. May I have a quick word?’


  Rhianna turned quickly to the newcomer, youngish and thin-faced, his brown hair slicked back, his smile confident, but her relief was short-lived.

  ‘I’m Jason Tully,’ he went on. ‘From the Duchy Herald. May I ask what you’re doing so far from London? They’re not planning to shift the new Castle Pride series down to Cornwall, are they?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’ She could handle this, she thought, making herself smile back, every nerve in her body tinglingly aware that Diaz Penvarnon was standing only a couple of feet away. ‘Although that would be lovely, of course. But I’m actually here on a private visit.’

  She was careful not to mention it was a wedding, in case her presence there was enough for him to rouse the rest of the press pack and bring them homing in on Polkernick Church.

  Which would no doubt be interpreted as her deliberate attempt to upstage the bride, she thought bitterly.

  ‘I see.’ He signalled to an older stouter man, carrying a camera, then looked past her to the train. ‘So, are you travelling alone, Rhianna? You don’t have a companion?’

  ‘I’m on my way to see friends,’ she returned, not daring to look at Diaz and see his reaction.

  ‘Sure.’ Jason Tully grinned again. ‘I guess you know it’s just been announced that your co-star Rob Winters has split up with his wife? I’m wondering how you feel about that?’

  Ah, so that’s who you were expecting to see following me off the train, you little weasel.

  She suppressed an inward groan.

  ‘No, I hadn’t heard that,’ she returned steadily, aware that Diaz was absorbing every word of the exchange, brows lifted cynically, that other people were halting to stare—and listen. ‘And if it’s true I’m—sorry. However, I’m certain that it’s a temporary difficulty which will soon be resolved.’

  ‘But you and Rob Winters are pretty close?’ he persisted. ‘Those were some very torrid love scenes you played in the last series.’

  ‘Yes,’ Rhianna said. ‘We played them. Because we’re actors, Mr Tully, and that’s what we’re paid for.’