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Jilted
Jilted
Jilted
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Jilted

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Jilted by Tim, while dressing for her wedding, Sam’s first instinct is to escape. Tim has rushed off to Paris and into the arms of a former girlfriend. Where better for Sam to go than the empty villa in Lanzarote where she and Tim were to have spent their honeymoon?
Tim’s odious stepbrother, Adam, makes it perfectly plain that, in his opinion, she has brought the situation entirely upon herself. Why then does he turn up in Lanzarote? And why does he start being nice to her? She must be careful – it would be all too easy to fall for someone on the rebound, someone as attractive as Adam:
"She went to bed early that night and read till her eyes ached, but still she couldn’t sleep. In the small hours she became aware of someone moving about in the next room. Oh God! Not burglars! If only the dogs had the run of the house! If only they weren't so damned friendly! There was a burglar alarm set to warn off intruders at the front of the house. Adam considered the presence of three dogs sufficient deterrent at the rear.
Sliding out of bed she felt for the heavy bronze ornament that always stood on a side table, and picked it up, then crept stealthily towards the connecting door. It was her only way out: she wasn’t going to just lie here and wait to be attacked. The door swung open on silent, oiled hinges. There was no-one in the room, but the bedside light was on.
Two things occurred to her simultaneously: water was running in Adam's shower, and his case was standing at the foot of the bed. He was home! She turned back to her room - she couldn't face him now. Too late - his bathroom door swung open and he was standing there, a towel round his hips, droplets of water clinging to the dark hair on his chest.
She could hardly bear to look at him. He was like a god: tall, lean and darkly handsome. How she loved him! How ' she hated him!"

LanguageEnglish
PublisherNora Fountain
Release dateJan 18, 2012
ISBN9781465763594
Jilted
Author

Nora Fountain

I was born in Derby but after a few years we moved to Bristol. My five children were all born there but by the time they reached their teens we had settled in darkest Dorset. What an inspiration the county is and what wonderful characters live there. As a setting it can hardly be bettered for romantic novels, contemporary or historical.I fitted in various kinds of work while the children were growing up. I've been an Avon lady, done market research, taught English to foreign students and coached English students in French and Spanish. Once it was possible I resumed my education and eventually became a freelance legal translator. I still enjoy learning languages. I have a smattering of German and Russian as well as the languages I translate. Currently I am listening to Italian CDs in the car in an attempt to catch up with my six-year-old granddaughter who is effortlessly fluent.I love to travel. Italy is a frequent destination as that's where my youngest son and his two gorgeous children live. My favourite city is probably Paris, though, closely followed by Venice. At seventeen I went on a study course in Paris and fell in love with the place. Several of my short romances begin, quite unintentionally, in that beautiful city.Every new place sparks ideas for writing. I haven't written my Venice novel yet, nor my Prague one. The mind teems with ideas. If only there were twice the hours in the day. I still wear my translator's hat some of the time and I like to paint in oils but writing is what I enjoy doing the most.

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    Book preview

    Jilted - Nora Fountain

    Jilted

    By

    Nora Fountain

    Copyright © Nora Fountain 2012

    Published by Nora Fountain

    Smashwords edition

    Formatted by Bas Fountain

    basfountain.co.uk

    Licence statement

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Table of Contents

    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Chapter 3

    Chapter 4

    Chapter 5

    Chapter 6

    Chapter 7

    Chapter 8

    Chapter 9

    Chapter 10

    Chapter 11

    Chapter 12

    Chapter 13

    Chapter 14

    Afterwords

    Bonus read

    Click on any chapter heading to return to this index

    Chapter 1

    'What on earth ...?'

    A powerful engine could be heard clearly above the pandemonium downstairs. With friends and relations arriving by the carload, caterers scurrying to and fro between kitchen and marquee, and Sam's four half-siblings getting more excited and vociferous by the minute, Nancy, her stepmother, was fighting a running battle against anarchy.

    'It's just a car. Keep still, Sam,' Mandy pleaded. 'One last curl and you could be Bride of the Year.'

    'Ha! I don't think! Not that you haven't done an excellent job on the raw material,' she added hastily.

    Through the mirror she scrutinised her heart-shaped face, pointed chin and wide green eyes, topped by the nondescript fair hair Mandy was dressing. At least the sun had done its bit, adding golden highlights to her hair during the long, hot summer.

    Summer's balmy days had given way to a cooler September, though today promised to be pleasantly warm.

    Mandy drew back Sam's hair, arranging it in a cluster of shiny curls from crown to nape, allowing a few wispy tendrils to soften the line. Her nimble fingers deftly threaded pastel ribbon through the curls, together with a few silk rose-buds, to match the coronet she planned to wear.

    'Pity I don't take after my mother,’ Sam commented.

    'You’ve got her eyes. Anyway stop fishing for compliments! You look radiant - just as a bride should.’

    ‘The bias of an old school friend!'

    With a final roar the approaching car could be heard scattering gravel on the circular drive in front of the house as it came to a halt and the door closed with a heavy clunk. Sam stood up and started towards the window overlooking the drive.

    ‘I must take a peek, Mandy.'

    'Not like that you can’t!' Mandy stopped her just in time. Sam had forgotten she was wearing a silk teddy and very little else. 'Let me ... wow!’

    'What do you mean, wow!' The door-bell rang and went on ringing. Someone, this ‘wow’ person presumably, was leaning on it.

    Sam shuddered, gripped by an inexplicable frisson of alarm.

    ‘The car’s stunning - a dark blue XJS,' Mandy informed her, 'but you should see the driver! He’s under the porch now, so I can only see his long, sexy legs. Shame! Talk about tall, dark and handsome - over six foot, black hair, moves like an athlete ...'

    'Sure sure. You've been reading too many romantic novels. He's probably some spivvy type connected with the caterers.'

    'He can cook my dinner any time - and stay for breakfast, too!'

    'And what about Peter?' Peter being Mandy's fiancé.

    'You're right - but a girl can dream.'

    'Why don't you pop down and see if Nancy’s pressed my veil, then you can take a closer look.'

    'In a moment.' Mandy started to pack up her equipment. 'Mind you, the last time I ventured downstairs, it was bedlam. Nancy's the only calm one down there. The little ones are rushing round in a state of anarchy getting under the caterers' feet. And as for your mother - funny, it's hard to think of Julia Grant, Hollywood actress, being anyone's mother ...'

    'Particularly mine, eh?' Mandy started to protest. 'You're right, of course. And she's never been much of a mother, anyway. I was only four when she walked out to pursue her acting career. Yet I think she's fond of me in her own peculiar way. Anyway, she did Daddy a favour. He and Nancy are much better suited. Nancy loves the domestic bit, and keeps the children out of Daddy's way when he wants to work.'

    'I know what you mean - an accountant and an actress were an ill-matched combination.' Mandy laughed. 'You should just see your mother queening it over the relatives in the drawing-room. As for your father - I believe I spotted him disappearing into his study.'

    Sam laughed. 'That's par for the course. I don't know how Nancy puts up with any of us. It's particularly good of her to invite Mother to stay. Go on now, I know you're itching to take a look at XJS man.'

    Sam picked up her bouquet and sniffed the heady fragrance of pink and cream roses, carnations and freesias. Without Mandy's lively presence doubts rose to torment her. Was she imagining it or had everyone gone quiet? The voices of the children racketing around the house were predominant now.

    Someone must have closed the door to the drawing-room. Yes, that was it.

    All brides were nervous - bridegrooms, too! How was Tim feeling at this moment? Was he being teased by Adam, the half-brother Sam had yet to meet, who, at thirty-five, didn’t believe in matrimony and had managed so far to avoid it? At least Tim should have recovered from his stag party two nights ago, which, Peter had let slip, had been somewhat on the wild side.

    If only they had parted on more amicable terms the night before that. Perhaps she should have let him ... well, it was too late for wishing, and anyway, it would all be happening tonight. She bit her lip nervously at the thought.

    Would Tim be disappointed by her lack of experience? She inspected herself in one of the mirrored doors lining one wall of her room. Her figure was slim with nicely full breasts and gently rounded hips, but hardly the voluptuous shape that often, to her chagrin, evoked comment from Tim. Should she wear the blue garter now adorning her slender left thigh with her raspberry pink going away outfit? Why not? Tim might find it amusing. She picked up her Miracle atomiser and proceeded to spray her ear-lobes, the curve at elbow and knee, her generous cleavage.

    Her father's voice impinged on her inner thoughts.

    Another male voice answered him, deep and resonant, with a timbre that shuddered across her nerves.

    Somehow she knew that the voice belonged to XJS man. Were those footsteps on the stairs? It was hard to tell because of the thick pile. She started, turning towards the door at the rap of heavy knuckles. Before she could put on her robe the door swung open and a complete stranger stood there.

    It was hard to say who was the more surprised, Sam herself, or the tall, dark man, whose vivid blue eyes raked her scantily-clad figure from head to foot, in their depths a hint of polite apology mingling with inexplicable cold contempt.

    'My brother was right - a cool, English siren.' He advanced into the room with panther-like grace, and closed the door. 'Cover yourself up - we have to talk.'

    As she snatched up her cotton robe, hastily cinching it about her, she felt anger welling up at his peremptory command, his sheer arrogance.

    'You’re - you mean you're ...'

    'Adam Gough, Tim's half-brother.'

    And, apart from the height, as unlike her golden-haired, grey-eyed, carefree fiancé as it was possible to be. There was a core of steel in this man, a barely leashed virility in his broad shoulders, narrow hips and long, muscled legs. The superbly tailored wedding-suit emphasised a tapering chest and firm, flat stomach. The starched wing collar gleaming white against his deeply tanned skin was somehow at odds, however, with the raw masculinity beneath the surface.

    'Sit down, we need to talk.'

    When Sam didn’t immediately react he seized her arm in a firm grip and hustled her towards the chesterfield that extended along the foot of her bed, thrusting her on to its long seat and lowering himself beside her. She glared at him angrily. He had released her arm, yet she could still feel the imprint of his hand on her flesh; a sensation like electric sparks jumped along her nerves.

    He brushed impatient fingers through thick black hair.

    'Look, there's no easy way of saying this,' he began.

    She stared at him, appalled. Something had happened to her darling Tim, and this harsh, unfeeling brute had come to apprise her of the fact. Her limbs started to tremble uncontrollably.

    'Oh, for God's sake, don't look at me like a wounded doe. You must have known things weren't right between the two of you: the wedding's off!'

    She stared at him, not comprehending. It couldn't be!

    She had just walked into a nightmare and any moment she would wake up and everything would be all right.

    Her soft lips trembled before the grim expression on the darkly handsome face.

    'Oh, for God's sake! I'm not doing this very well, am I? Sam!'

    The way he spoke her name vibrated across her nerves. He grasped her shoulders and shook her gently.

    'Sam! Do you understand what I'm saying?'

    She nodded and a violent tremor seized her.

    Suddenly on this warm September day she felt intensely cold.

    'Tim,' her teeth were chattering. 'He's had an accident, hasn't he? I told him to be careful. Oh, my poor, darling Tim.'

    'Sam,' his eyes looked away in embarrassment but swung back determinedly. He spoke slowly, as if addressing an imbecile. 'No, Tim, my brother Tim, has not had an accident. He's changed his mind.'

    That did get through to her.

    'No!' she cried in an anguished wail. 'You're lying! He wouldn't do that! He loves me!'

    And she hurled herself at him, lashing out wildly at this hateful man who had come to fill her with grief on what should have been the happiest day of her life, pummelling his solid chest with both hands.

    She had struck him several times before he reached out and effortlessly captured her flailing fists, drawing her towards him till her breasts touched his solid chest.

    Her robe had fallen open but what did she care? She took several deep breaths as if she had been running hard, and promptly burst into tears. At once his arms enfolded her. He gathered her close, stroking her back as if comforting a distressed child, while she sobbed unrestrainedly into his shoulder.

    Her sobs finally dwindled to an occasional sniff and she lifted her head, embarrassed and dismayed by the damp patch she had left on his expensive jacket. He reached for a wad of tissues and proceeded to mop her face. She became ruefully aware that all Mandy's handiwork - the mascara, the artistically drawn eyeliner, the pearly sheens - was ruined, everything merged into one splodgy mess, and this immaculately dressed stranger was gently wiping it away to reveal her pale, uninteresting skin beneath.

    'There, that's better,' he declared.

    Than what? she felt like asking, hating his satisfied tone. She took a tissue herself and blew her nose.

    'Do you feel like talking now?' he asked, taking one of her hands between his.

    She clung to the long, lean fingers with her own soft smooth ones, perfectly manicured for the cancelled wedding. On the third finger she wore the engagement ring that normally graced her other hand. His hands were a lifeline offering the only comfort available and she drew upon every ounce.

    'I suppose so,' she answered finally. 'But what is there to talk about?'

    'Quite a lot, I should think,' he said grimly.

    'Wh-where’s Tim?' she asked in a small, pleading voice.

    His mouth tightened. 'He's taken off for Paris. Let's not talk about Tim right now.'

    Paris! That's where he had invited Sam three months ago. A week-end at the George V, he had enthused, where they could make love all night and all day too, if they wished, only surfacing to eat, or take in a spot of night-life. And she had primly refused! Now she would never know what it would be like to have Tim make love to her. Another sob caught in her throat.

    'Don't start crying again, for God's sake,' Adam grated impatiently.

    She swallowed hard. What an insensitive brute Tim's brother was, and yet, when he had held her ...

    'Are you pregnant?' he asked suddenly, shocking her with the question, surprising her by his tone.

    'No, I most certainly am not!' she snapped, snatching her hand free to join the other, missing the warmth and contact of his.

    'You never were, were you?'

    'No,' she agreed, frowning in puzzlement. 'And a damned good job too, as it's turned out! Now you can go - you've accomplished what you came for.'

    'And like the ancient Greeks you would like to kill the bearer of bad tidings,' he commented drily. 'What are you going to do now? Immediately, I mean. I suppose you've arranged time off work for a honeymoon?'

    'I'm a freelance illustrator - if not a very successful one.' Even her career had taken a downturn, though that hadn't mattered too much - Tim hadn’t wanted a wife

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