Pennyroyal Read online

  She moved over into the armchair, amazed that her legs still worked. The chair was warm from his body. He sat on the footstool, hands clasped on his knees, leaning towards her. Now she saw that his hair was a very dark brown, and his eyes a light, glinting grey. He looked even more attractive now that he was speaking, and his face was alight with humour.

  “I don’t often wake up and find an angel at my feet,” he went on. “In fact, I can’t actually remember the last time.”

  The firelight on her tawny hair, and Cassy’s pale outfit edged with brightness, all emphasised Jake’s first angelic impression.

  “However, I am reassured now that you are most definitely human and of this earth,” he said quickly, not wanting to sound too imaginative. His eyes were raking over her but not in a way that was upsetting, but with a kind of approval.

  “Relief all round,” said Cassy. She held out her hands to the fire, pearly pink nails shining like washed shells. “One frozen angel rapidly melting.”

  Colour tinged her cheeks as she realised her words could be misconstrued. It was not often she spoke without thinking; it only showed how much this man had thrown her off balance.

  “I mean, I’m getting warmer now.” She swallowed hard. That remark was hardly any better. “I didn’t realise that Netherdale would be so chilly. We’re not that far north.”

  “It’s not necessarily Netherdale. It’s our British summer, or what is passing for summer this year. It’s no sunnier in Cornwall. It was raining heavily when I left this morning.”

  Alarm bells should have sounded but Cassy was not listening. She was spellbound by the sound of his voice, warming to the low timbre and gravelly undertones, knowing it was a voice she could listen to for the rest of her life.

  She was basking in the unaccustomed pleasure of meeting a man she actually liked, feeling herself relax and expand in his company. She felt that if she told him her innermost secrets, somehow they would be safe with him.

  When Bert Armstrong came in with a tray of coffee, Cassy was briefly surprised. It seemed years ago that she had ordered it. It smelt good and aromatic.

  “There you are, Miss Ridgeway. Sorry to have kept you waiting. I thought you’d like it freshly ground. Just ring if you’d like some more.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Armstrong. That’s lovely. Oh, would you like some?” She turned to the strange man.

  “Miss Ridgeway?”

  She was so entranced by everything, she did not notice the man’s hesitation or the way he ignored her offer. Something had happened to the tone of his voice. It had closed up, gone cool, all the humour drained out of it in seconds. Cassy looked at him in alarm. Whatever had happened?

  “Cassandra Ridgeway?”

  Cassy nodded mutely, but already she knew the answer and her heart was falling like a stone into her elegant slingback sandals. She felt sick and stunned.

  “So where the hell have you been?” he snapped, his eyes as cold as flint. “I waited three hours for you. Don’t you keep appointments, lady?”

  Cassy stiffened. With immense control she carefully lifted the cup to her lips and sipped the coffee before answering. She did not want her hand to shake.

  “You must be Jake Everand,” she said, forcing an equal coolness into her voice. “My plane was late and I missed the earlier train I had intended to catch. I’m sorry you had to wait but there was no way I could contact you.”

  “Sorry enough to be lounging around, drinking coffee, instead of finding out if I was still waiting at the mine?”

  “I’ve been travelling all night and nearly all day…”

  “And I drove a long way to meet you, particularly at your request. You said it was urgent. Then you don’t turn up. My time is money,” he said bluntly.

  “My money in this case,” Cassy could not resist reminding him. “You forget I’m paying. Please put those three wasted hours on my bill. I wouldn’t want you to be out of pocket on my account.”

  She heard his sharp intake of breath. The magic had been shattered and they were retreating fast, gliding apart like two figures in a dream. She did not know how to retrieve the situation without grovelling and she would not do that when it had not been her fault.

  Jake Everand got up and walked abruptly to the window, his hands thrust into his pockets. For the first time she realised just how tall he was, could appreciate the broadness of his shoulders, the narrow hips and long legs. His back was tense, his head lowered like an angry bull.

  “Thank you for the timely reminder that I’m your paid employee,” he said. “It certainly shows a strong, businesslike attitude which I should appreciate. Unfortunately I don’t think this is going to work and I should like to be released from the contract which I signed. I was mistaken in the motive for this survey. I didn’t know Pennyroyal had become a rich woman’s toy.”

  Cassy closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. This was more than she could cope with in her exhausted state. The impact of their meeting had used up the last of her energy.

  “Mr. Everand, I’m much too tired to argue with you tonight. Could we wait until tomorrow morning when I promise you I will be on time and full of intelligent suggestions for the survey of Pennyroyal? I can’t even think clearly now and I’m bound to say something stupid which I should regret. I do want you to do the survey. You are the best mining engineer in Britain and the man my grandfather would have wanted.”

  “Your grandfather?”

  “Thomas Ridgeway.”

  “It hadn’t occurred to me.”

  “You knew him?”

  “Not personally.” It was all Jake Everand would say, but Cassy caught the hostile nuance in his voice. There had been such joy; now it was all a bitter taste. She had been an absolute fool, but even though she was too conscious of him for comfort, at least she had hidden her feelings.

  She was glad that the next few days would be busy, far too busy for this absurd hungering after a man like Jake Everand. She did not even want to think of his name. Perhaps if she said it quickly, or called him J.E.? She laughed.

  “Something’s funny?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m a little light-headed. The long flight from Barbados and no food. I can’t eat when I’m flying.”

  “I hope you had a nice holiday,” he said with icy politeness. “The tan looks expensive.”

  “It was not a holiday. I was working,” said Cassy, refusing to elaborate. He shot a look of disbelief, and the irritation between them flared again. But Cassy’s resolve was stiffening. She admitted that Jake Everand was the most attractive man she had ever seen; his looks, aura of power and strength, twisted all her feminine logic into disarray. But she could cope. She would make sure that she did.

  A log shifted in the fire and it jolted her into activity. She stood up with her usual grace.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said. “Ten o’clock sharp at the mine. That should give us both time to get a good night’s sleep. I’m sure when we are in a calmer frame of mind we shall be able to work out our differences.”

  He nodded but his expression was not encouraging. He swept up his leather jacket and slung it over his shoulder; the funny, sleepy man had quite vanished.

  Perhaps she had imagined those magic moments; perhaps she had been dreaming. No, it had been real…enchanting moments which she could relive in the loneliness before sleep.

  “I trust you’ll be there, Miss Ridgeway,” said Jake Everand, his face a mask. “Set your alarm and check it. No one keeps me waiting twice.”

  Chapter Two

  Cassy was first at Pennyroyal the next morning. She had woken early; the unfamiliar bed and early morning noises around the inn making it impossible to sleep on.

  She breakfasted lightly despite the good smell of eggs and bacon from the kitchen. She wondered briefly if Jake Everand was also staying at the inn, but she did not enquire.

  That morning she walked the two miles out of Netherdale to the minehead. It felt good to be walking and it was a novelty to h
ave so much time to enjoy the countryside. The stone cottages were dew washed, windows glinting in the pale sunlight, leaves glistening and fresh.

  As she reached the moors, the scenery began to change. She could understand Jake Everand’s annoyance at being stranded there. It was a bleak, desolate spot at the end of Winnats Pass, crossed and buffeted by winds that defied all natural currents. The hills were sculptured from prehistoric formations, erupted wastes that looked harmless enough with their cloak of velvet grass, but which hid great caverns and miles of tunnels.

  The minehead was not as she had imagined it. The remains of the old mine buildings looked neglected, gaunt walls and chimneys of the engine house dark and gloomy.

  It did not look inviting. She could not identify most of the buildings but she did discover the brick built mine office. A faded sign saying Pennyroyal swung at an angle over a warped and blistered wooden door.

  She stamped about the yard, wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm. The Barbados outfit was ridiculous in Derbyshire, although she had the sense to wear a silk shirt under the loose twill blouson that matched her white jeans.

  She heard the Land Rover roar up Winnats Pass with some relief. Anywhere out of the wind would be preferable. She hoped the much recommended mining engineer would be in a better mood this morning.

  Her hair was blowing fiercely over her face, half obliterating any view of the man as he climbed out of the Land Rover into the yard. But despite this, Cassy felt her heart lurch. It was unbelievable. She had had a whole night to get over that first unnerving meeting, but now it was happening again. He strode across, unconcerned, slim hips moving in patched jeans, a thick dark wool shirt and padded waistcoat over his powerful shoulders. He looked straight at her, grey eyes hard and expressionless.

  “Good morning, Miss Ridgeway. I trust you slept well.”

  “Perfectly. And you?”

  “Couldn’t have been better.” Cassy did not know what that implied nor did she care. “Have you got the keys?”

  “Of course. Did you expect we would have to break in?”

  She handed him the rusty bunch of keys. She was not going to be confronted by a door that would not yield. He could sort it out.

  But the door creaked open with only a token protest. Cassy followed Jake into the low-roofed building, wondering what she would find. The office had been undisturbed for years; dust lay in thick layers on desks and documents and equipment; the old stand-up telephone looked as if it had rusted into one piece; cobwebs laced the pens leaning in ancient tobacco tins; the brass ink-pots mildewy and green.

  The windows were covered in grey grime, letting in a wan light; paper and rubbish littered the floor. It looked as though someone had just walked out and shut the door. And nothing had been touched since it closed.

  Had her grandfather done just that? Had he walked out, one day, in the middle of writing that page, reading that report, keeping those records? What had happened? There was nothing to go on, and only this difficult man at her side to help her. But he had to help; somehow she had to make him.

  “Whatever happened?” she asked, walking round the high desks, grey with dust and debris. “Why was it just left like this?”

  “It was obviously abandoned quite suddenly,” he said. “The worksheets and charts are still here. Don’t you know?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I didn’t even know that my grandfather owned Pennyroyal. It all came as a huge surprise.”

  Jake Everand’s face was unreadable but again she got the feeling that he did not believe her. She was not used to being doubted and a knot of anger formed in her throat. He filled the small office space with his size and authority, and he awed her despite their abrasive encounters. She looked round, casually, seeking return of confidence from the everyday objects.

  “Someone didn’t even wait to finish their tea,” she joked, indicating a sturdy mug festooned in cobwebs. “I wonder what else there is.”

  “Since you are paying me good money, I suggest we concentrate on the survey. You can hunt for souvenirs in your own time,” he said.

  Cassy was used to the games that some men played but this was a new one. She could have sworn that Jake Everand found her attractive; those first moments had been electrifyingly mutual. Now he acted as if he could barely stand her company.

  She hung her thumbs on the narrow belt round her waist and rocked back on her heels.

  “I wonder why it is that being employed by a woman is so upsetting for you? Is it your first experience of role reversal?” she asked in a deceptively sweet voice. She followed it with a smile of singular innocence. It was meant to disturb him and it did.

  “I can assure you that taking money from a woman doesn’t hurt,” she went on. “And a woman can be a very considerate employer. I wouldn’t ask the impossible. For instance, I wouldn’t ask you to go down the mine if you had a bad cold.”

  “How reassuring,” he said laconically.

  “I want the mine surveyed and you are apparently the best. I need advice and though I may be reluctant to take it, you are again tops in advice. Money has to change hands even if you don’t care for the idea. I’m not going to order you around. Why should I? I only want the work done fast and efficiently.”

  He leaned back on a high shelf, his gaze not on her at all but fixed on the wild, black ridge in the distance. His eyes narrowed to take in the perspective as if he were about to commit the rich landscape to canvas.

  “I’m obliged to you, Miss Ridgeway, for putting me in the picture. It sets my mind at rest that we do at least have the same aim in view, to get this work completed in the shortest possible time. So don’t get in my hair; don’t get under my feet; and I never take orders from a woman.”

  “Well, that’s really nice,” said Cassy, barely hiding her indignation. “You have a very gentlemanly way of putting things, Mr. Everand. It’s obvious that you went to a top class public school and came first in manners.”

  He moved so fast that Cassy did not have time to evade him. He thrust his hands roughly into her hair; she gasped at the pain shocking the tiny roots.

  “Don’t patronise me, young lady,” he said, biting into the words. “And don’t try sarcasm. It doesn’t suit your pretty face.”

  She knew he was going to kiss her even before his mouth descended to take her lips. Give me strength, she moaned to herself as her spirit leaped to meet him, and her slim body was crushed in his arms. She fell into a swirling pleasure as his mouth began to feast hungrily on her lips, her eyes, her neck.

  She was powerless to return his kiss because she was lost in the overpowering wonder that his touch aroused. It was as if she had left this planet and they were locked in an unstoppable acceleration towards another galaxy of stars.

  He let go of her so abruptly she fell against a corner of a high workbench, stabbing her elbow. The pain was sharp, exploding along her nerves ends.

  She hung her head, rubbing her elbow, a wing of hair hiding the momentary tears. Were they tears for the hurt or for those moments of ecstasy? Cassy seemed to have lost the ability to think. A desperate longing to feel his mouth again was robbing her of coherent thought.

  Jake Everand was already unrolling the plans of former surveys which he had obtained from HM Inspector of Mines and Quarries. They were the most recent that could be found; there were probably earlier maps stored somewhere in the office. He cleared a space on the desk and a cloud of dust blew into the air.

  “The main canal will take me easily to the old working,” he was saying crisply as if he had never touched her. “I may need to fix some temporary electrics. It depends on what still works. I’ve brought battery lamps to get started.”

  “Did they have women working in the mine when it closed?” Cassy asked.

  “I doubt it. In the Nineteenth Century they used women and children to drag away the stones and rubble, but that was stopped by law, thank goodness. Why do you ask?”

  “There’s a pair of women’s shoes on
the floor. Over there, by the door.”

  “A cleaner perhaps, or office staff.”

  The shoes were small and flimsy, almost calcified with mud and mould. Cassy could not imagine a cleaner coming to work in such a frivolous pair of shoes.

  Cassy tried to concentrate on the technicalities of what he was explaining; she thought miners always went down a mine in cages.

  “Where’s the entrance?” she asked.

  “That’s the entrance,” he said, indicating a bolted wooden door at the back of the office. “Just through there.”

  “How do you know the lift is working?”

  “There’s no lift. This is what is called a drift mine. The way in was a slowly descending tunnel along which the miners walked or crawled. At some time they may have sunk a vertical shaft which let miners down in a large bucket; more recently a flight of stone steps were built.” He pointed to the map. “Several hundred steps. I’ll check them first.”

  “I’m coming too,” said Cassy, striding after him in a manner that brooked no argument.

  “No way. You’d be a liability. Mines are no place for amateurs…or women. Especially ones wearing white jeans,” he added.

  “I could hold the lamp,” she pointed out. “Or do you happen to have three hands?”

  “I’ve teeth.”

  “An almost perfect specimen,” she said flippantly.

  “Are you sure? You’re hardly likely to be in a position to confirm it,” he said with a wicked grin. The bold look was so fleeting, Cassy wondered if she had imagined it.

  Aware that the tension between them had lightened, she spoke quickly, wanting to cement that fragile feeling.

  “I would genuinely like to help,” she said. “And I’m not stupid, even though you may think otherwise. I won’t get in the way and I won’t endanger whatever you are doing. Surely it’s not sensible to go by yourself? What if you slipped?”

  “It’s never sensible to go down a mine alone.” He paused, trying to come to some conclusion about her. “If I say stop, then you stop. Understand? And if I say go back, then you go back. You do as you are told whether you hold the purse strings or not. I would have brought an assistant, but everyone was busy.”