The Forbidden Innocent Read Online Free PDF Page B

were you afraid that the house was haunted?’ he questioned silkily. ‘The tormented spirit of one of my ancestors, perhaps.’ He poured coffee into a mug and pushed it across the table towards her. ‘Do you believe in ghosts, Ashley?’
    She shook her head. She thought he was trying to change the subject and she wondered why. ‘No. No, I don’t.’
    Like a croupier, he directed the sugar bowl in her direction, bringing it to a halt when she shook her head. ‘Or did you think it was me?’
    ‘I knew it was you.’ Her heart missed a beat as she met the question in his narrowed eyes. ‘How… I mean, how could it
not
be you—when we’re the only two people in the house?’
    Jack’s mouth hardened. He wondered what she had done when she’d heard him. Had she lain there and wondered whether he might sleepwalk his way into her room by mistake?
    With a sudden and inexplicable clarity, he almost wished he had—as he pictured her slender frame beneath the outline of a thin sheet. He could imagine pulling the sheet aside to see a slender, coltish body—her curving breasts topped with rosy nipples. Could imagine those unpainted lips of hers framing themselves into a silent question as he sought the comfort and warmth of her fragile body. He swallowed as he imagined sliding his hand between soft thighs and gently parting them. Was he going out of his
mind?
Abruptly, he sat down at the table, glad to be able to conceal his aching groin. He drank some too-hot coffee and winced, glad for its scalding distraction. ‘And were you frightened?’
    She picked up her mug and shrugged. ‘I try not to do fear.’
    Something about her quiet response impressed him. He watched her as she sat there in his kitchen, hair still damp from the frost that had fallen on her head, and he found himself thinking how difficult it must be for her to be catapulted into his life. To just turn up at a place like this, not knowing what, or who, she would find. To have to blend in and mould herself to what was expected of her. ‘What makes someone like you take on this sort of job?’ he questioned suddenly.
    His question was so unexpected that Ashley didn’t have one of her stock answers ready—about liking variety in her work and wanting to get as many different kinds of work experience as possible. Because if the truth were known she wouldn’t really have opted for a post which took her away from all her friends, toa deserted part of a bleak, northern moorland in the middle of January.
    ‘I need the money,’ she said starkly.
    He raised his eyebrows by a fraction—because most people hid this kind of truth behind a casual lie or exaggeration. ‘Why?’
    Ashley shrugged, wondering whether it was the directness of his question or that searching onyx stare which made her want to tell him. Or was it simply the realisation that here was not a man who could be fobbed off with flimsy excuses? Would he be shocked by the truth? ‘I’m in debt.’
    ‘Oh, dear.’ There was a pause. ‘By much?’
    She supposed it wouldn’t be much to him. ‘Enough.’
    ‘I see.’ Thoughtfully, he sipped at his coffee. ‘So what caused it—was it extravagance, or necessity?’
    This time, Ashley chose her words carefully—because what would someone like Jack Marchant know about the realities of her life and trying to manage a budget when money was tight? When an unexpected bill could send your bank balance plummeting and then other expenses showered in on top to add to the mounting pressure. That was the trouble with debt—somehow you never quite caught up with yourself. It happened to other people her age but most of them had parents they could turn to if they were desperate. Someone who might be able to help them out with a short-term loan. But she’d never had anybody to run to.
    ‘Necessity,’ she said. ‘Too many bills arrived all atthe same time—and then a couple of unexpected ones only added to the burden.’
    ‘I see,’ said Jack.
    ‘I