A Lost Love. Carole Mortimer

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СКАЧАТЬ came the assured answer.

      ‘Then I suppose it will be all right,’ Brooke said slowly.

      ‘Thank you, dear.’ Jocelyn closed her eyes tiredly. ‘And don't be sad when I'm gone,’ she murmured sleepily. ‘Dying isn't so bad, it's living that can sometimes be so hard to do.’

      Brooke knew that, knew all about the pain of living when what you really wanted to do was lie back and die …

      It was a quiet funeral, the way Jocelyn would have wished it to be, just her close family and a few friends; the people who had really cared about her.

      Jocelyn had died peacefully in the end, during her sleep, and after months of suffering it was the way she deserved to go. Brooke had received a terse telephone call from Rafe Charlwood himself telling her of his aunt's death during the night. Perhaps because it was he who called Brooke managed to contain her initial grief, answering him coolly.

      ‘When will the funeral be held?’ she asked stiltedly.

      ‘The arrangements haven't been made yet,’ he told her smoothly, showing little or no emotion himself, despite the fact that he had been very fond of his aunt. ‘But I'm sure you would like to attend.’

      ‘Of course.’ Her tone was slightly defensive. Of course she wanted to attend; Jocelyn had been the best friend she had ever had, to desert her now would be disrespectful—even if the thought of going to Charlwood without her support terrified the life out of her!

      ‘And I'm equally sure that Jocelyn would have wanted you to travel with the family——’

      ‘No!’ Her tone was sharp, and she sought to control that. ‘I would rather drive myself, if you don't mind.’

      There was silence for several minutes, as if Rafe Charlwood wasn't altogether pleased with her reply, but he knew there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. Brooke was her own woman, financially independent, and Rafe Charlwood had no influence over her whatsoever—she wasn't even attracted to him, as she felt sure many other women would have been.

      ‘If that's what you prefer,’ he said coolly. ‘You will, of course, come back to the house after the service.’

      ‘I——’

      ‘Our lawyer has requested that you do so, Miss Adamson,’ he cut into her refusal. ‘I believe your name will be mentioned in my aunt's will,’ he added dryly.

      The will! Dear God, she had forgotten her promise to Jocelyn about accepting the bequest in her will. But surely directly after a funeral was no time to read a will; it seemed positively macabre to Brooke.

      ‘It's a family tradition,’ Rafe Charlwood drawled as if reading her thoughts.

      ‘I see.’ Her tone capably conveyed her opinion that it was a tradition that should have been stopped years ago, although she gave no verbal opinion. ‘In that case I'll come back to Charlwood after the funeral. If that was all …?’ she queried distantly.

      ‘I'll call you.’ Rafe Charlwood managed to convey his own feelings over the telephone just as capably—and he was coldly angry! ‘As soon as I know the details,’ he added abruptly.

      ‘I would appreciate that.’ She quickly rang off, realising that her control was about to slip. The shock of never seeing Jocelyn again was finally getting to her as Rafe Charlwood calmly discussed the ‘arrangements'—almost as if those arrangements weren't the time and last resting place of one of the kindest, most understanding women Brooke had ever known.

      She was going to miss Jocelyn more than she cared to think about; the other woman had been her one and only friend during the last few years, the only one she had dared to make. The future promised to be even more bleak than the last three years, but at least Jocelyn had been released from her pain, and Brooke could feel grateful for that.

      As Rafe Charlwood approached her after the funeral she stood her ground, although as usual her first instinct was to turn and run. But none of her inner unbidden panic showed as she looked up at him with cool query, aware of the curious glances Rosemary Charlwood had given her before being persuaded by her husband to accompany him over to the waiting black limousines that would take the family back to the Charlwood estate.

      Brooke stood pointedly beside her own car as Rafe Charlwood reached her side, wearing a brown suit tailored to her slenderness, a brown velvet hat covering the brightness of her hair. Rafe Charlwood was also suitably dressed in sombre clothing, having taken a day off from his business affairs to show his last respects to the woman who had helped his father bring up his brother and himself after his mother had died when he was a child. Maybe he was adept at hiding his feelings, but he didn't seem as heartbroken as Brooke knew herself to have been since he had telephoned her with the news of Jocelyn's death.

      His icy gaze moved over her with cold appraisal—almost as if she were a well-bred racehorse being appraised for, and by, the prize stud. Brooke withstood that assessment with one of her own, at least having the satisfaction of knowing he hadn't defeated her with the silent battle of wills, although she knew by the mocking curve to his mouth that she hadn't been the victor either.

      ‘Perhaps you could give me a lift back to the house?’ he requested in that coolly clipped voice. ‘That way I can direct you.’

      Her own smile was tight, her eyes remaining hard. ‘I know the way to Charlwood, thank you,’ she returned with arrogance. ‘I've often stayed with your aunt there.’

      ‘Of course,’ he nodded acknowledgment of the fact. ‘But I'm afraid that without me you might have a little trouble getting inside the gates today.’

      As Brooke had said, she had visited Jocelyn at her private cottage half a mile away from the main house many times, and never once had any trouble passing through the guarded gates. She gave Rafe Charlwood a puzzled frown.

      ‘Only the cars carrying the family are cleared through our security today,’ he explained in a dry drawl, as the black limousines began to file slowly past them.

      ‘I've often wondered why you need the security at all,’ she derided, knowing that he had an extensive system set up throughout the grounds and house.

      His mouth tightened. ‘I'm a rich man,’ he bit out. ‘There have been too many kidnappings of members of wealthy families for me to take any risks with my son.’

      Brooke didn't argue with him any further, but got in behind the wheel to open his door for him, turning on the ignition to follow the limousines. ‘I've met your son several times—at Jocelyn's,’ she explained lightly. ‘Is there—really any possibility of someone wanting to harm him?’ She gave Rafe Charlwood a sideways glance as she drive.

      ‘Yes,’ he rasped. ‘And today would give them the ideal opportunity to make such a move, during the confusion of the funeral.’

      He sounded very calm, considering it was his son he was discussing as being a possible kidnap victim. God, she thought, this man really was inhuman, every action and word only confirming it.

      The security around the house was indeed tight; the electronic gates were also guarded by a man, and the man who greeted them at the door of the house also seemed to check on everyone who entered.

      ‘Not that way,’ Rafe instructed curtly as Brooke would have followed СКАЧАТЬ