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'Yes, Katy.' His dark eyes returned to her flushed face, his strong tanned hands gently lifted hers to his lips, and in a curiously reverent gesture he pressed a kiss to each palm.
'Now do you understand?' he queried smoothly.
Katy had spent too long mistrusting him, hating him, to immediately believe him. Her sea-green eyes, wide and wary, searched his handsome features, looking for some sign that would convince her. If she believed he had bought the house for her, then that meant... his marriage proposal and everything had been genuine... She wanted to believe him, oh, how she wanted to, but he had hurt her too much...
Jake sighed and dropped her hands. 'You aren't going to make this easy for me.' He stood up and walked across to the mantelpiece, his back towards her. 'But then, why should you? I've treated you abominably, and I have no excuse. Jealousy is an unenviable emotion, and can be no justification for the way I've behaved.'
'Jealousy,' she parroted again. Jake jealous of her... somehow the thought made the flicker of hope in her heart burn a little brighter. He turned around, leaning one elbow on the mantelpiece in apparent ease, but she noted his brown eyes flickered over her and fixed on some point on the opposite wall, almost as though he was afraid to look1 at her.
'Hard to believe, Katy? Well, I can assure you it is true. But perhaps I should start at the beginning. Do you want a drink? Because I certainly do.'
His quick change of subject threw Katy, and she mumbled a refusal and waited with building impatience as he strode to the drinks cabinet and, picking up a bottle, poured a very large whisky into a crystal tumbler. Her fascinated gaze watched the muscles of his strong throat as he gulped most of it down at one go. 'The beginning,' she reminded him softly.
Jake still refused to look at her; instead his gaze was fixed on the portrait. 'I bought the painting along with the house, though David took some persuading to part with it. It is a very good likeness. It reminded me of the first day we met. I waited in the headmistress's study, expecting to have to tell a young schoolgirl the sad news of her mother's death, and escort her to her home. I only agreed to do it because I had promised my grandmother to look up your family and make sure Meldenton was all right. Latins take a debt of honour very seriously.'
Jake half smiled. 'Anyway, when you walked into the room I felt as though I had been kicked in the stomach. You had just come from the tennis court. Your glorious hair was floating like a cloud of gold almost down to your waist. You were wearing a white knit sports shirt, and a tiny pleated skirt that barely covered y
our behind, and your legs...'
Katy leaned forward on the sofa the better to hear. Jake was talking so low—virtually to himself. He must have heard her move, as he turned and gave her a wry smile.
'You were fully developed at fourteen and I had never seen anyone as beautiful in my life. Even now I don't know how I managed to keep my hands off you. I could not believe what had happened to me. I was a mature adult male, a staid banker, and I had the hots for a schoolgirl. I tried to hide it, and I tried to comfort and support you until after the funeral, but it was agony for me. I felt so damned guilty.'
'Guilty? But you were the model of decorum.' Katy grinned; suddenly her heart felt lighter, and the flame of hope burnt even brighter.
'Only because for the next twelve months I stayed away from you.'
'The postcards,' she murmured; he had kept in touch.
'Yes. God, I felt as guilty as hell, but I couldn't break all contact.' He paused. 'I kept thinking, this can't be happening to me, obsessed by a schoolgirl. It was my grandmother who made me see sense. I confessed my feelings to her, and she laughed; she reminded me I was half-Italian, and convinced me. For an Italian the age-gap between you and me would seem unimportant in a few years. So I began to pay more attention to Meldenton and I became a friend of your father, but my real motive was always to be with you.'
Katy stared at him, wide-eyed. Was this the man who had been telling her to get out of his life just hours earlier?
'All of which proves, from the moment I met you,' a slightly shamed smile twisted his lips, 'I was fascinated, intrigued, besotted with you. To be honest I was also thoroughly ashamed and, looking back, I can see it was my own guilt that got in the way of our relationship.'
Katy tried to speak, but Jake crossed the room and, catching her hands, pulled her to her feet. His hands stroked up to her shoulders, and held her firmly only inches away from his hard, tense body.
'But Monica was never an issue between you and me. That much you have to believe, Katy.'
'You told me to try and get along-----' He stopped her.
'Only because I wanted to protect you, look after you, and I thought it better that your father was married, rather than running free.'
'Chasing everything in skirts,' Katy supplied for him with an ironic smile.
'Anyway, that is the only reason I advised you to try and get on with your stepmother. God knows, I hardly knew Monica; our bank had always handled her family's business, but she was an acquaintance... no more, I swear.'
The wheels of Katy's mind spun furiously. 'Your bank still handles her business.'
'Yes, unfortunately, but that will change when I go back to town, I promise.'
So that was how Jake had been able to vote Monica's shares at the board meeting, Katy thought. But remembering the board meeting brought Jake's blackmailing to her mind. She could not put her thoughts into words. She was too confused.
Jake waited for a while, absently fiddling with the scarf holding back her hair, until accidentally it came free, and with a gentle gesture he smoothed her heavy golden locks down over her shoulders. Then he looked straight into her eyes and said seriously, 'Katy, I have never loved any woman in my life the way I love you. You have to believe me. I bought this house from your father for you, sure that one day it would be our home.'
Katy's mouth trembled and she tried to speak, but once again the words would not come. He had said he loved her. As for Monica, she believed his explanation—well, most of it, she qualified silently. The picture in her mind of Jake with his arms around that woman still rankled. But if there was to be any hope of a relationship between Jake and herself she was going to have to take some things on trust.
'I believe you------' She was about to continue cautiously 'about the house', but Jake never gave her the chance.
