He was not a man who acted on impulse. He did not indulge in casual affairs or shallow hook-ups. He had needs and he saw to them in a responsible and respectful manner. His life was carefully planned and detailed, organised and compartmentalised because that was the way to avoid nasty surprises. He had seen too many friends and colleagues—not to mention his father—come unstuck by succumbing to a reckless ill-timed roll in the sack. Careers, reputations, familial relationships were permanently ruined in the carnage of an illicit affair and he would not make the same mistake.
His father’s double life had come to light during James’s late teens. Throughout his childhood, whenever he was home from boarding school, his mother would do her happy-families thing and James had never questioned it. Hadn’t thought to question it. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to face it. On some level he’d known his parents weren’t blissfully honeymoon-like happy, but neither had he thought they were utterly miserable. They were his parents and he liked that they were together and seemingly stable. But then, when he’d been in his final year, someone at school had made a comment about seeing James’s father coming out of a hotel with a woman in the city and James’s concept of a stable home life had been shattered. His mother had stoically tried to keep the marriage together for the next few years after his father promised to remain faithful, but of course Clifford had strayed time and time again, albeit a little more discreetly.
Ever since, James swore he would not live like his father, lying and cheating his way through life. He would not be swayed by temptation or sabotage his success and reputation by a lack of self-control.
But there were two things he couldn’t control in his life right now—Aiesha Adams and the weather. He pulled back the curtains and looked at the flakes of snow falling past his window.
Fabulous.
Freaking fabulous.
* * *
Aiesha waited until James had left the house before she came downstairs the next morning. She saw him talking on his mobile as he headed to the river walk with Bonnie. He had his head down and his shoulders hunched forwards against the wind. He stopped a couple of times to glance back frowningly at the house but Aiesha kept out of sight behind the edge of the curtain. Even from this distance she could see the colourful bruise beneath his eye. Was he still wondering why she had gone at him like that?
She gave a long sigh when he disappeared into the fringe of trees along the river. Why should she care what he thought of her? What was the point of trying to whitewash her reputation now? He would never see her as anything other than a good-time bad girl.
She had to shake off this restless mood...and there was only one way to do it.
The ballroom was her favourite room at Lochbannon. It was next to the sitting room and overlooked the formal gardens at the front of the house. Watermarked silk curtains hung in large swathes at the windows, the bottoms lying in billowing pools on the highly polished parquet floor like the trains of elegant ball gowns. A central chandelier dripping with sparkling crystals hung from the ceiling and various velvet-shaded wall lights added to the sense of grandeur. The piano was a concert grand and had been recently tuned. Louise had always insisted the piano was regularly serviced but Aiesha had a sneaking suspicion Louise had quickly organised it once she had known Aiesha was coming to stay.
Louise was an accomplished violinist but had given up her musical aspirations to marry Clifford Challender. He had insisted on being the only star on the Challender family stage. Louise was required to be the supporting act, to grace his table with her congenial presence, to turn a blind eye to any extracurricular activities he indulged in from time to time, and to bring up his son according to the rules of the upper class.
It reminded Aiesha of her mother’s fitting-in-with-men mentality. It had started with Aiesha’s father, who had dominated her mother as soon as he got her pregnant. Her mother had done everything she was told to and yet was still punished for whatever he took offence to. It could be the way the housework was done or the way the meal was cooked, or the way she looked or didn’t look. An opinion expressed that didn’t tie in with the rules and regulations he set down. It had been impossible for her mother to gauge what was right or wrong. Her self-esteem had taken even more of a battering than her body.
And yet, after Aiesha’s father had been locked away for armed robbery, instead of the new life Aiesha had envisaged, her mother had drifted into another relationship with the same old pattern developing within a matter of weeks. It happened repeatedly. Her mother would finally get the courage to leave and within weeks she would find someone else who was a carbon copy of the man she’d just escaped from. It was the drugs that did it. They were the lure each and every time. The mild addiction Aiesha’s father had started with a joint had grown into an uncontrollable habit. Heroin, cocaine, alcohol—anything that offered a temporary respite from reality. Her mother had been charmed time and time again by manipulative men who promised her the world and gave her nothing but heartache, and finally death.