Desire (#1) Page 2

  Despite my distraction, the grandeur of the hall took my breath away. The enormous room was two storeys high and at least fifty feet wide. My shoes tapped on the expensive, gold-flecked marble. I felt as if I was entering a museum. I had never seen a private residence as vast as this one. Most of the other mansions in the area had been taken over by the Newport Preservation Society. Cliff House, owned by the Easton family, was one of the few buildings that remained privately owned.

  Mrs. Wicker didn’t seem to notice my desire to be alone. She entered the Great Hall with me and beamed up at the mural, which was almost complete.

  “You’ve done a marvellous job with it, Kate.” She walked closer to the mural, gazing intently at the small cherubic figures.

  When Mrs. Wicker had shown me the intricate mural on the wall of the Great Hall on my first day at Cliff House, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. The beauty and intricacy of the painting just blew me away.

  Over the years, the paint work had faded and taken on a slight yellow discolouration. But as a professional art restorer, I had no problem fixing that. I had beamed at Mrs. Wicker and told her I foresaw no difficulties in finishing the restoration in two weeks as requested.

  She looked a little anxious then beckoned me over to the other side of the hall and pulled back a white screen that had been hiding an identical mural. Identical in every way, except for the scarlet paint splashed across the surface.

  I actually gasped and clapped a hand against my mouth. I couldn’t believe this could have happened accidentally, but how could anyone have so little respect for such an exquisite piece of art?

  Mrs. Wicker had nodded sagely at my response. “Yes. An absolute tragedy.”

  When I asked her how the damage had occurred, she was quick to brush me off and change the subject. I told her there was no way I could finish the repair in a fortnight. I was good at my job. I’d trained long and hard at it, but I wasn’t a miracle worker.

  Mrs. Wicker pursed her lips and said, “It must be finished in two weeks, Katherine. Mr. Easton is holding a gala dinner, and he insists the mural be ready for display. How would it look if the guests were to see the mural in this state?”

  She promptly doubled the amount of money on offer if I would agree to have it finished in time. It didn’t take me long to decide. I was broke, and I hadn’t had a restoration job in six months.

  I was glad Mrs. Wicker was pleased with my progress. I hoped she might spread the word about my work. I could really use her help in landing a few projects to get me up and running again. Since I’d left Miami, things had been pretty tough.

  “Thank you,” I said and looked up at the mural. I’d managed to get rid of all the surface red paint. All I had to do now was to add layers of varnish and be careful not to dislodge any of the gold leaf.

  “Are you okay, Kate? You look a little distracted.”

  I blinked and shook my head. “Oh yes, everything’s fine. Just, you know, got to concentrate.”

  Mrs. Wicker nodded and looked pleased. “I understand. An artist needs peace and quiet to work. I’ll tell you what. I’ll bring you a pot of coffee then leave you to work. How does that sound?”

  “Thank you,” I said. “That sounds great.”

  I watched Mrs. Wicker leave and exhaled heavily. So far so good. Now I needed to keep my mind on work for the rest of my time here.

  The event this morning with the gardener … I stopped in my tracks as I realised for the first time I didn’t even know his name. I’d been about to get down and dirty with a man in the great outdoors, and I didn’t know anything about him. What was I thinking? I supposed that was the problem – I hadn’t been thinking. Well, it wouldn’t happen again.

  I took a deep breath. Perhaps I could give him my phone number and arrange to see him after I’d finished work at the estate. That would be okay. I shivered as I imagined all sorts of naughty things we could get up to once I’d finished the restoration project.

  “Here we go.”

  Mrs. Wicker’s voice startled me, and I turned to find her standing behind me, with my coffee.

  I thanked her, took the tray and set it down on my small fold-out table.

  “Oh I almost forgot. Mr. Colin Easton will be here this afternoon. I imagine he is very keen to check on your work. He is very interested in the family art collection.”

  I nodded and took a sip of my steaming coffee. I’d met Colin Easton just before I’d started working on this project. He was a man of around forty, with sandy-blonde hair and a perpetually flushed face. He’d been very kind and interested in the methods I would be using to restore the mural. I thought he’d be impressed with my progress, so I wasn’t worried about his imminent arrival. He wasn’t the Mr. Easton, the head of the Easton Empire. I got the impression he was some sort of distant relation, who liked to keep a firm hold on his genetic ties to the place.

  I had never met the head of the family, my employer. All my dealings had been through Mrs. Wicker or Mr. Colin Easton. I thought it was sad that such a beautiful house wasn’t enjoyed by his owner. What was the point in owning property like this if you were never here to enjoy it? It didn’t make any sense to me.

  After Mrs. Wicker left me with my coffee, I tried to concentrate on my task for today. I looked closely at the mural, judging relative colours and trying to decide which varnish would work better on different areas. But my mind kept flipping back to this morning. That man, his strong hands, those smouldering eyes… I groaned in frustration and picked up my brush.

  Chapter 3

  Once I finally focused on my work, the morning passed quickly. On the surface, it looked like the bulk of the work had been finished, but the true skill of a restoration artist came at the end of the project. It made the difference between a mediocre result and a spectacular one.

  By one o’clock, I was getting a slight headache from the chemical fumes of the varnish. Over the past couple of weeks, I’d taken my sandwiches down to the Cliff Walk at the boundary of the estate and eaten lunch looking out over the ocean. But today I was a little nervous about making my usual walk down to the path. What if I saw the gardener?

  I tried to convince myself I was being ridiculous. If I did see him again, I would give him my number with a witty remark and ask him to call me after my work here was finished.

  Despite the little pep talk I gave myself, I still looked around anxiously as I descended the stone steps. I scoured the lawns and pretty gardens, but there was no sign of him. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. For goodness sake, get a grip, Kate. Annoyed with myself, I strode off around the side of the house.

  At the back of Cliff House, the gardens were even more impressive. The lush, green lawn stretched right to the edge of the property and met the sparkling blue of the Atlantic. The scent of roses mingled with the briny tang of the sea, and I took a deep breath, savouring the fresh air. I smiled at the sight in front of me and quickened my pace.

  Cliff House was one of the most majestic properties in Newport, Rhode Island, and with the Vanderbilts’ mansions in the area, that was really saying something. Most of these houses were owned by old money or donated to the Newport Preservation Society, so people could pay their dollars to hear about how the other half had lived opulently a century ago.

  I reached the cliff path and began to walk along it. I wanted to be out of sight of the main house. I’d walked the length of it a couple of times and even walked along the beaches below, but today I didn’t have time for a long lunch.

  I settled on a grassy mound, placed my sandwiches on my knees and began to unwrap them. I stared out at the water, which was softly rolling into shore today.

  I bit into my chicken sandwich and puzzled over my problem. My work here was almost finished, and I would be paid well, but with rent and a truck to run, it wouldn’t be long before money started running low. I needed to get another job. I’d only managed to get this one through my friend Suzanne. So much in the art restoration world depended on contacts and
recommendations, and since I’d fled Miami in the middle of the night months ago, I didn’t have any of those things. I couldn’t even work under my own name.

  I put the sandwich back in my brown paper lunch bag. I’d lost my appetite.

  When I returned to Cliff House, Carter, the butler, hovered by the doorway, looking down his long, pointed nose at me.

  “Do you have to use that entrance?” he asked in his low nasal voice.

  “Mrs. Wicker told me to.”

  Carter sighed heavily. “It’s not right. You should be using the tradesman’s entrance. Traditions must be upheld.”

  I ignored him and got back to work. He wasn’t any more obnoxious than usual, so I was pretty sure he hadn’t seen me in flagrante delicto this morning. I began to think I’d imagined the whole thing. The hot gardener was nowhere to be seen either.

  At just after two, Colin Easton was welcomed into the Great Hall by Carter.

  He strode up to me with his hands outstretched. “Ah, Miss Taylor, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  I’m pretty sure Carter harrumphed. I raised an eyebrow, but let the moment pass.

  “Please call me Kate,” I said and gestured towards the mural. “I suppose you are anxious to see my work.”

  “Oh, yes.” He stepped past me and moved close to the mural.

  The smile slid from his face. For a terrifying moment, I thought he was displeased. But when he turned, he had tears in his eyes.

  “Miss Taylor … Kate, this is unbelievable, wonderful work. I do believe you can work miracles.” He beamed down at me, dimples appearing in his flushed cheeks. “What did Mr. Easton say?”

  “I haven’t spoken to him,” I said. “I’m not sure if he’s seen it yet.”

  Colin Easton’s forehead puckered in a frown. “Oh, but he must have.” He took my hand and leaned towards me conspiratorially. “Let’s go and speak to him now.”

  “Now? Is he at home?”

  Colin Easton nodded.

  “Are you sure? I haven’t seen him, and I’ve been here most of the day. Wouldn’t he have to pass me in the Great Hall when he entered?”

  He smiled at me indulgently. “He has a self-contained area of the house he likes to use. It has a separate entrance. He doesn’t often work from home. He usually travels to our Providence or Boston offices. Of course, the Easton Company has offices all over the world.”

  He tucked my hand under his arm and guided me to the vast staircase.

  “Are you sure he won’t mind being disturbed?” For some reason, my voice shook a little as I spoke.

  “No. He’ll be delighted with the work you’ve done.”

  I returned his smile. “Okay then,” I said and we walked up the winding staircase.

  I hadn’t seen much of the house, apart from the Great Hall, the guest restroom and the kitchen, so I stared around me taking it all in. I was like a kid in a candy store with the art work. Portraits of generations of Eastons lined the wall of the upper staircase. The faces stared out at us, their eyes following me. I saw a young man who looked remarkably like Colin Easton. When I pointed it out, he grew quiet for a moment then nodded.

  “Yes. My father. If you’re interested, perhaps I could show you our other family portraits. There’s a whole room full of them next to the library. Some are very old.”

  “I’d like to see them,” I said. “Thank you.”

  I didn’t ask any further questions, and as we climbed higher and walked along the first floor, I soaked up the surroundings. It was without a doubt old-world luxury. The glossy wood, the delicate hand-painted paper on the walls. It all spoke of money. Old money.

  My feet sunk into the plush carpet, and I looked down at my scruffy shoes, wincing at how misplaced I look in such a house. I wore ballet pumps, as I did most days. They were comfortable, and a little smarter than sneakers.

  Colin Easton paused by a large door, turned to smile at me and then knocked on the door with a flourish.

  A moment later, the door was opened by a petite blonde woman, wearing an immaculate skirt suit. It fitted her slim frame perfectly and was clearly expensive. I clasped my hooded cardigan around my waist, feeling very conscious of my appearance.

  The blonde woman blinked at me, curiosity obvious in her eyes.

  “This,” Colin Easton said, “is the lovely Geraldine. Mr. Easton’s assistant.”

  I smiled at her, and she nodded in response.

  “And this lovely young lady,” Colin Easton said, putting his hands on my shoulders, “is Miss Katherine Taylor, the talented artist restoring the mural in the Great Hall.”

  “Ah,” Geraldine said and stood back to let us through the doorway.

  Inside, the décor was a complete contrast to the rest of the house. With its cool, contemporary furnishings, it looked thoroughly modern.

  My surprise must have shown on my face, as Geraldine said, “Although Mr. Easton enjoys the period style in Cliff House, he prefers to work in more modern surroundings.”

  Geraldine moved across to her chrome and glass desk, tapped a few keys on her computer, and then she sighed.

  “You haven’t made an appointment, Colin. You know Mr. Easton likes you to make an appointment.”

  I turned to Colin Easton, surprised. As a member of the Easton family, it seemed strange that he needed an appointment.

  Colin Easton’s face blushed even redder than usual. “I am quite sure I don’t need to make an appointment to see my own cousin.”

  Geraldine gave a tight smile. “Mr. Easton is very busy, Colin. He –”

  Colin held up a hand. “You forget yourself, Geraldine. I am also a member of the Easton family. Perhaps in the future you could refer to me as Mr. Easton. First-name terms may have led you to forget my family connection.”

  Geraldine blanched and pursed her lips in a tight little line.

  After a moment, she said, “Very well, Mr. Easton. I’ll see if Mr. Easton can see you now.”

  She picked up a telephone handset and spoke into it in a low voice.

  After replacing the handset, she turned to us and said, “Very well. He will see you in a moment.” She gestured to the seating area. “Please make yourselves comfortable while you wait.”

  Colin and I sat on plush leather armchairs while we waited.

  When Geraldine was otherwise occupied, tapping away on her keyboard, Colin turned to me. “Honestly, Geraldine is getting more above her station by the day. I’m pretty sure she’s set her sights on Benjamin.”

  “Benjamin?”

  “Yes. Mr. Benjamin Easton – my cousin. The gall of the woman, trying to deny me access to my own cousin. Me, the direct descendant of Albert Easton.”

  Colin shook his head in disgust.

  I imagined Mr. Benjamin Easton would be considerably older than Geraldine. I couldn’t understand the attraction to wealthy older men myself, but for some women I supposed money and power were a heady aphrodisiac.

  “I hope Benjamin sets her straight soon. Silly woman.” Colin huffed and pulled at his trousers so the creases running along each leg were straight. “Can you believe it? Talking to me like that?”

  I shook my head and mumbled in agreement. I wished I hadn’t come.

  Every now and then, Geraldine glanced over and narrowed her eyes at us in disapproval. I tried to ignore her.

  Benjamin Easton kept us waiting for nearly twenty minutes before the phone buzzed on Geraldine’s desk and she stood up and said, “He will see you now.”

  Colin stood up and haughtily jerked his head. He walked past Geraldine, ignoring her, and I fell into step behind him.

  When we entered Benjamin Easton’s office, he had his back to us, and even though he must have heard our entrance, he didn’t turn around. I felt a flicker of annoyance on Colin’s behalf. Good manners didn’t cost anything. No one was that busy.

  As he ignored us, I studied his back. Even though he was sitting down, I could tell he was a tall man. His back was ram-rod straight, but it was his dar
k hair that surprised me most. I’d expected his hair to be streaked with grey and fair like Colin’s.

  I bit my lower lip. There was something about his hair…

  Before my mind had a chance to piece together fragments of the jigsaw, he turned around.

  I gasped and stumbled backwards. Luckily, Colin Easton caught my arm before I fell on my backside for the second time today.

  “Are you all right, Miss Taylor?” he asked as he pulled up a chair so I could sit down.

  I slumped down into the chair and looked up into Colin’s concerned face. Then I peeked behind him to see if my eyes had been playing tricks on me.

  But my eyes had not deceived me. There he was, larger than life, dressed in an expensive, dark grey, well-cut suit and a pristine white shirt: My gardener, from this morning.

  Chapter 4

  He looked very different. Perhaps even hotter in the suit. And he radiated power. How could I have mistaken him for the gardener? Still, I supposed at least I knew his name now. Benjamin Easton. It suited him. It also explained why Carter, the butler, called him sir. How could I have missed it?

  Still frowning, Colin said, “May I introduce Miss Katherine Taylor, the talented artist who has been restoring our mural.”

  Benjamin Easton smiled, his eyes focused on me.

  “Katherine.” He pronounced each syllable of my name: Kath-er-ine. As he spoke, I felt the stirring of desire. How could simply saying my name be so hot?

  I should have answered, but my brain wouldn’t function properly. Was he going to fire me? He definitely wouldn’t be recommending me to any of his rich friends. I swallowed and sat up a little straighter in my chair.

  Poor Colin Easton seemed to be at a loss.

  Benjamin Easton’s eyes remained fixed on me, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

  Colin cleared his throat. “Ah, she has worked miracles. Really a first-class job. Have you seen the mural, Benjamin?”

  Benjamin steepled his fingers beneath his chin and grinned at me. It was a grin filled with wicked intentions. My heart beat sped up. Perhaps he wasn’t going to fire me. Perhaps he had other plans. I felt a warmth tingling between my legs. Oh no, no.