Yesterday's Scars. Carole Mortimer

any longer.’

      His face was livid with anger, the scars standing out whitely against his otherwise swarthy skin. ‘It was never charity and you know it!’

      ‘You never made it seem like it, you were too thoughtful for that, but I realise now what a burden I must have been, both emotionally and financially. Celia is honest enough to show her resentment.’

      ‘Are you saying I’m not?’ he queried mildly, too mildly.

      Her eyes pleaded for his understanding of what she was trying to say. ‘You know I didn’t mean that, I’m just trying to tell you that I understand Celia’s attitude towards me, her resentment. I’m not even related to you really.’

      ‘I realise that.’

      She looked at him sharply, the relief in his voice not going unnoticed. She had always been aware that most of the Savage family had not altogether approved of her father as a husband for Marisa Savage, but she had never realised that Rafe was of the same opinion. She resented his condescension.

      Consequently her answer was sharper than she might otherwise had intended it to be. ‘So if I’m to stay I’ll have to work for my keep.’

      ‘In what way?’

      She blushed as she remembered Celia’s mentioned method of payment. ‘Acting as your helper with the paperwork, of course,’ she said quickly.

      Rafe gave a wicked grin at her embarrassment. ‘That’s what I thought. Shame!’

      ‘Rafe!’ she blushed anew.

      He gave a husky laugh. ‘Only joking, Hazel. Only joking.’

      Sara bustled in to announce dinner, waiting on them herself in honour of Hazel’s return. Conversation was general through dinner, with Rafe wanting to know more about her time spent in America. She relaxed with him completely over coffee, even going so far as to tell him a few of the humorous mistakes she had made during her first few months as Jonathan’s secretary.

      Rafe sipped his brandy, perfectly relaxed as he sat in one of the armchairs. ‘I’m sure Jonathan understood.’

      She frowned. ‘You know him?’

      ‘Only slightly.’

      ‘I didn’t realise,’ she said slowly.

      ‘Why should you? I only said I knew him slightly. I know his son better. Did you like Josh?’

      Hazel looked confused. ‘You know Josh too?’

      ‘We met some years ago in London.’

      ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

      ‘Because there was nothing to tell. We’re only acquaintances.’ He looked bored with the subject now, as if he regretted mentioning it.

      ‘Yes, but—well, all this time and you never once mentioned it. It seems a little strange to me, almost as if you were both keeping quiet on purpose.’ She sprang to her feet, not liking the implications that conjured up in her mind. ‘Rafe?’ she questioned uncertainly. ‘Did you keep quiet on purpose?’

      ‘What an imaginative child you are! I never mentioned knowing Jonathan because I don’t—at least, not well.’

      She put her cup down on the side of the mantelpiece. ‘But you do know him. Why didn’t he mention it either?’

      He stood up with barely concealed impatience. ‘Possibly because he didn’t consider it important either. Stop making such a thing about it! And stop letting your imagination run riot, it didn’t influence Jonathan’s employing you.’

      Her eyes flashed. ‘You can’t honestly expect me to believe that.’

      ‘Believe what you like, I’m going to my study to do some work.’

      ‘This time of night?’

      ‘Like I said earlier, it isn’t easy finding time to do all the work necessary on this estate. The paperwork usually takes up most of my evenings.’

      ‘Would you like me to help you?’ she asked vaguely, her mind still mulling over Rafe’s recent revelation. His knowing Jonathan must have had something to do with her being taken on as his secretary. After all, Rafe was the one who had found her the job.

      ‘Not on your first day home. You’ve had a long day, the flight and everything. I should have an early night, try and sleep off some of the jet-lag.’

      Rafe’s mind was obviously already on the work ahead of him and he barely heard her words of goodnight. Left on her own she decided to take his advice and go to bed; it had been a long day and she was exhausted. She shouldn’t have played that game of tennis this afternoon, but the tiredness from the flight hadn’t become apparent until this evening.