CHAPTER SIX

 

Changmin stared at him for a long moment in utter silence. Then, recollecting herself, she snatched her hand away.

'No,' she said. And again, 'No. It's not possible.' 'Why not?'

'For one thing, I'm not a nanny. I'm totally unqualified to look after a child.' 'Is that all?'

'I'd have said it was enough.'

He shook his head. 'Not for me. You'll have to do better than that.' 'I already have a job—in which I'm very happy.'

'Not for much longer. I had a chat with your Mrs Preston while I was having lunch today, and she told me all about her niece coming back, and how sorry she was to have to let you go. So there's no problem there.'

She said rigidly, 'How dare you discuss me like that— behind my back? How bloody dare you?'

'You'll find I dare quite a lot, especially where Sohee's well-being is concerned.' The grey eyes met hers very calmly and directly. 'I'm waiting for the next excuse.'

'Fine.' She drew a breath. 'It simply wouldn't work, and we both know it. You—you don't know anything about me—not really.'

'I'm making discoveries all the time, and expect to make more. I know you have a warm heart, and courage too, even if it does run away with your tongue at times. I know you like my daughter and care about her. And, more importantly, I trust Sohee's instinct where you're concerned.'

'Oh, you have it all worked out,' she said bitterly. 'I , suppose this is where I dissolve into grateful tears.'

'If you dissolved into anything, you little shrew, I'd expect it to be sulphuric acid,' he said amiably. 'Think about it. I'm talking six to seven weeks at the very outside. Surely you can tolerate me for that long? For Sohee's sake?'

'It's precisely for her sake that I can't do this,' she said. 'I've told you already she doesn't need an endless procession of people passing through her life.'

She paused. 'She needs one—special person, who's going to be there always.' She swallowed, aware that her heart was pounding. 'Not a nanny—a mother.'

'She had one, once.' He spoke with a kind of harsh flippancy. 'It didn't work out. But I take your point. And, as I mentioned, I'm working on that very problem at the moment. But—these things take time. After all, I've made one serious mistake already. This time I'm going to get it right.'

Not, something inside her cried out, if you're going to marry Hazel Sinclair. You'll be out of the frying pan and into the fire. You can't do it.

She drew a quick, sharp breath which hurt. This was dangerous thinking. Jung Yunho's choice of a woman had nothing to do with her. It was not something she could afford to care about. So she stayed mute.
 'And, when I do marry again, it won't be simply to provide Sohee with a mother either,' he went on. 'Condemn me for selfishness, if you like, but I want a wife first arid foremost.'

'That's—natural.' Changmin tried to relieve the nagging ache in with a sip of her tonic.

'But, in the meantime, Sohee needs care, and I'd like you to give my offer serious consideration. For God's sake, Changmin, you can't pretend your present situation is ideal. Whatever your long-term plans, you're going to need another job pretty damn soon.'

'I'm aware of that,' she said. 'But I don't need charity.' Especially from you, were the unspoken words which seemed to hang in the air between them.

'And I wasn't offering it. All the altruism would be on your side, believe me.' He paused. 'Look—this has obviously been a bit of a shock, and if I've come on too strong then I'm sorry. But we both have problems, and this could be a solution.'

Or the start of the kind of problems I'd never even dreamed of Changmin thought unsteadily.

She swallowed. 'I'm sure you mean to be kind...' 'Pragmatic,' he corrected.

'But I'd be entirely the wrong person—for all kinds of reasons.' She finished her drink and stood up. 'And now I'd really like to go home, please.'

'Of course.' There was a new formality in his tone. Her decision, clearly, had been accepted and he was moving on.

But wasn't that exactly what she'd wanted? Changmin asked herself, feeling unaccountably depressed.

They accomplished the remainder of the journey in a rather taut silence.

As they entered Westcombe Yunho drew in at the side of the road in response to the imperative demand of a siren behind them.

'Trouble for someone,' he remarked as a fire engine surged past.

And in my direction, Changmin realised, leaning forward to watch its progress with a stab of unease.

Before they got to Rushton Street, the acrid smell of burning was filtering into the Range Rover. Yunho found the way into the street barred by a police car. The driver came up to them. 'Sorry, sir, the road is closed. You'll have to go back. House fire being dealt with.'

'So I see,' Yunho said grimly, staring down the street. 'But you'll have to let us through. The fire is in this lady's house.'

'Is it, now? We understood the owner was a Mr Hanson. He's down there now in a right state.'

Changmin was sitting rigidly, her eyes fixed on the fire tenders filling the street outside Hawthorn Cottage, the moving figures. The smoke seemed to fill her nose and mouth, choking her.

She said hoarsely, 'I'm the tenant.'

'Sorry to hear that, my love. The lads have got the fire out, but there's been a lot of damage. I reckon the whole place will have to be pulled down.'
 Somehow, she found herself walking down the road. Yunho's hand was under her arm, holding her up.

'This is your fault.' Arthur Hanson loomed out of the darkness, his face contorted. 'A spark from that grate of yours. I shall sue you for negligence...'

'I didn't light the fire. I haven't been home.' Her voice shook as she looked up at the blackened masonry and empty windows. At the fallen roof. 'My clothes—my things...'

'My valuable furniture.' Hanson was almost dancing with rage. 'You haven't heard the last of this.'

'And neither have you, Mr Hanson.' The fire officer came up to them. 'From what I've seen, I'd say it was a fault in the electrics. You've been warned about dangerous wiring in other properties of yours.'

'The sitting room light,' Changmin said numbly.

'Very probable, miss.' He patted her shoulder. 'Be thankful you weren't injured.' He paused. 'We couldn't save much, but one of the lads brought out a tin box. Does that belong to you?'

'Yes.' Changmim gulped, aware that tears were running down her face. 'It's got my private papers in it. Some photographs...'

He nodded. 'I'll get it for you. Now, have you got somewhere to go tonight?'

'Yes,' said Yunho. 'She has.' His arm was round her, pinioning her against him.

Without it, she thought, she might well have fallen to the ground.

'Then if I could have the address, sir? Because I'll need to talk to the young lady tomorrow. And the insurance company will want to know too.'

'She'll be at North Fitton House at Fitton Magna.'

The quiet words penetrated the tear-dimmed haze around her. She looked up at him, her eyes dilating. She tried to say no, but no sound would come from her dry mouth.

'Don't be a little fool,' he said softly as the fire officer moved away. 'What choice do you have? We'll collect your box and I'll take you home.'

After that everything seemed to dissolve into a blur. The only reality seemed to be the tin box she held on her lap. She could feel the sharp edges pressing into her hands.

She was still clutching it when Yunho led her back into his drawing room and sat her gently down on the sofa. She watched him kick the smouldering logs back to life. Saw Carrie bustle in with a tray of tea, and place it on a table in front of her.

Yunho sat down beside her. 'You can put it down now,' he said. 'It's quite safe.'

She shook her head numbly. 'It's all I have left,' she said. 'Everything in the world. That's quite funny, isn't it? Because it's not a very big box.' And she began to laugh, while the tears splashed down her white face.

From a distance, she heard Carrie say, 'Shock. I'll call Dr Foster.'

Then she felt herself lifted, held close on his lap. Her face was pressed into his shoulder. She breathed the fragrance of clean wool, and the sharper, evocative scent of his skin, so alien in its masculinity, yet somehow so completely, so achingly familiar. And all the time fierce sobs fought their way up from the depths of her being, shaking her whole body.

He was her as if she were a young, frightened animal, his hands gentling her
 back, coaxing the tense muscles to relax. Smoothing her tangled hair.

'It's all right,' he whispered, repeating the words over and over again like some mantra. 'Everything's going to be all right.'

And, when she could cry no more, she lay in his arms, spent and shivering, watching the dancing flames and thinking how easily she could have been overcome by smoke and trapped in the burning house.

It was only when Carrie brought the doctor in and Changmin caught her swift, appraising glance that she actually realised that she was still sitting on Yunho's knee.

Face hot, she scrambled awkwardly to her feet, avoiding his eyes.

Dr Foster was kind and matter-of-fact, assuring her that tears were an excellent therapy, and prescribing bed, cocoa and a mild sedative as follow-up treatment.

'And a hot bath first,' added Carrie, ushering her upstairs. 'Everything's ready for you.' Changmin sank gratefully into the hot, scented water. She could hardly believe how swiftly and fundamentally her life had changed. She looked round at the immaculately tiled room, at the thick towels warming on their rail, the dark red silk dressing gown waiting to receive her.

It was the kind of luxury she'd avoided over the past few years, and it was undeniably seductive. But she knew she must resist it.

The dressing gown was far too big. She had to roll up the sleeves and wind the sash twice round her slender waist before trailing back into the bedroom. She supposed it must belong to Yunho, and wearing it made her uneasy, but, under the circumstances, she had little choice.

The bed had been turned down, she saw, and the prescribed cocoa was waiting on the night table with the tablets the doctor had left.

Changmin had just set the beaker down when Carrie came bustling in.

'All gone? That's a good girl,' she approved briskly. 'Now, you have a good sleep, and tomorrow everything will seem much better.'

'Everything's gone, Carrie.' Changmin settled obediently against the pillows. 'I've been left with the clothes I stand up in. That's something you hear people say, but you never think of it actually happening.'

'Well, don't you worry about it,' Carrie advised comfortably, turning off the light. 'Mr Yunho will take care of everything. You'll see.'

Yes, thought Changmin, reluctantly composing herself for sleep. That's just what I'm afraid of.

And when she slept she found herself tormented by dreams of Yunho's arms holding her, making her safe, keeping her secure. Only, in the way of dreams, that was strangely no longer enough. And, in the darkness, she felt herself reach out, whispering his name.

When she opened her eyes the next morning, she felt totally disorientated. Then, as she remembered the events of the previous evening, she sank back into the bed again with a faint groan. It wasn't just another bad dream. The cottage had burned down, and she was in Jung Yunho's house, in one of his rooms, wearing his robe.
Nor, she discovered, was she alone. A small, rather battered teddy bear wearing a blue
 ribbon was sitting beside her pillow.

Changmin picked it up, a reluctant smile curving her lips. No need to ask who'd left it there, she thought with a faint twist of the heart. As she replaced it she caught sight of the small gilt clock on the night table and froze.

It was nearly eleven o'clock. Morning coffee at the cafe had begun almost an hour ago, and she wasn't there.

It must have been those damned tablets, she thought as she hurriedly threw back the covers and swung her feet to the floor. But it was the first time she'd ever been late, and Mrs Preston would surely understand.

In the bathroom doorway, she paused with a yelp of dismay. She'd left her uniform on the floor in the bathroom last night, but it wasn't there now. Someone— presumably Carrie—had removed it.

Well, she'd simply have to find Carrie and get her things back, or she wouldn't be at work in time to serve lunches.

Trying not to trip on the hem of the robe, she went out of the room and trod down the stairs. But she could hear no sound, no sign of life, just as if the sleep she'd woken from had been enchanted and the house was still caught in the spell.

Then, 'Good morning.' Jung Yunho had appeared silently in his study doorway, and was standing, looking up at her, hands on hips.

'Oh.' Changmin's hand went to , pulling the edges of the robe together. 'I—I was looking for Carrie, actually.'

'She's gone out. I think she planned to be back before you woke.' He gave her a faint smile. 'The robe suits you. And, in case you were wondering, it's new. I've never worn it.'

'Oh,' was all Changmin could think of to say, aware that she was blushing.

'Did you sleep well?' he asked.

She bit her lip. 'Rather too well,' she answered, constrained. 'I'm late for work.' 'Actually you're not. I telephoned earlier and explained that you wouldn't be in. Mrs Preston was most sympathetic, and said it would give Debbie a chance to get back in harness.'

The colour in her face deepened angrily. 'You had no business saying anything of the kind. I have my living to earn.'

'Not, I suspect, at the Clover Tea Rooms,' he said calmly. 'But we'll discuss that later. In the meantime, Carrie would want me to offer you breakfast.'

'I'm not hungry,' she snapped.

'Truly?' His smile widened. 'You look to me as if you're ready to take a bite out of something.'

'I'm merely looking for my clothes.'

'Carrie washed them. They won't be dry yet.'

'Oh, no,' Changmin wailed. 'Then what on earth am I supposed to do?'

'Relax and have some breakfast,' he suggested lazily. 'A day off will do you no harm.' 'Not if I'm out of work at the end of it,' she said resentfully.

'Don't be a pessimist. Your prospects are far better than that.' He paused. 'Sohee sends her love, by the way, and says she'll see you after school.'
 'Unlikely,' Changmin said curtly. 'As soon as I get my clothes back, I'm out of here.' There was a silence, then he asked slowly, 'What are you so afraid of?'

She lifted her chin. 'I'm not scared at all. I—I just feel I've trespassed on your hospitality long enough.'

'Don't tell lies, Changmin,' he said amiably. 'You're bad at it. Now, come along to the kitchen and I'll make you some coffee.'

She longed to tell him to keep his coffee, but just the thought of it made water, so she trailed after him to the rear of the house.

The kitchen was a big room, its windows overlooking a small orchard, the trees stripped and bare now. But it contrived to be cosy, with a dark green Aga taking pride of place. The big wooden dresser and fitted cupboards had clearly been around for a long time, but the appliances were all up to the minute.

Changmin sat at a long, scrubbed table and watched him prepare the percolator. He was obviously very much at home, whistling softly under his breath as he worked.

He opened the refrigerator, sending her a quizzical look. 'Bacon,' he suggested. 'Scrambled eggs—toast?'

For a moment she hesitated, then nodded, with a stilted, 'Thank you.'

The plate he eventually placed in front of her smelled like ambrosia. The bacon was crisp, the eggs creamy and the toast had been cut into fingers. He poured coffee for them both, and sat opposite her.

'You're quite right, of course,' he said, watching her tuck in. 'This is a shameless attempt to curry favour with you.'

Changmin took an unguarded swallow and nearly choked.

'You really don't play fair, do you?' she said, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her robe. 'I tend to apply my own rules.' The grey eyes were intent. 'Think about it, Changmin. Your home has been destroyed, and your job has probably reached its end. So, where will you go when you leave here? And what are you planning to do?'

'I don't know.' Changmin finished the last delicious crumb and put down her knife and fork. 'But they're my problems, and I'll manage somehow.'

'And you'd rather rot in hell than accept a helping hand from me.'

She looked down at the table. 'That's not true. You gave me a roof last night. I'm— grateful.'

'Then do something for me in return. My offer still stands- I need you to look after Sohee. When she found you'd slept here, she was ecstatic.'

Changmin bit her lip. 'She left her teddy bear on the bed for me.'

'As a welcome present. She's convinced herself that you're here for the duration. Can you really let that prickly pride of yours get in the way? Cindy let her down badly. Are you going to do the same?'

'That's the worst form of emotional blackmail.'

'Not quite.' The grey eyes were glinting with amusement, and something more disturbing, which made her feel oddly weak. 'I need to keep something in reserve.'

He paused. 'I told Sohee that if you came with me to collect her from school this afternoon, it meant you were staying.'
 He collected the dirty crockery and loaded it into the dishwasher.

'I have to go out now,' he tossed at her over his shoulder. 'But feel free to wander about—get the feel of the place—and we'll talk later.'

'Mr Jung,' she began.

'Yunho

,' he reminded her, pausing in the doorway. His gaze met hers, held it compellingly.

He said quietly, 'It's about six weeks of your life, Changmin, for a child who needs you. Would it really cost you so much?'

He went, and a moment later Changmin heard the front door slam behind him.

He was so sure he'd won, she thought furiously. That he'd offered the only viable solution to their mutual problems.

Oh, if she just had her clothes back, she'd be out of here and on the next train to— anywhere, she thought, grinding her teeth.

Or she would if there wasn't Sohee to consider. That was the stumbling block, she realised ruefully. Through no fault of her own she was no longer a totally free agent, and she knew it.

She wandered into the drawing room, and stood staring absently through the window. Clouds scudded across the grey sky, and the trees were bending in the bleak wind. It was a cold world out there, and the house seemed to be wrapping itself round her like a cloak. Offering her a protection that was difficult to reject.

Difficult—but not impossible.

All she had to do was tell him the truth, she thought. Remind him of the , drunken girl he'd found on his bed six years before, and he'd be rid of her so fast her feet wouldn't touch the ground.

That was the obvious course to take. If she really wanted to leave...

She stopped right there—aware her breathing had quickened. She found she was remembering suddenly the closeness of his arms around her. The way her skin had seemed to bloom under his touch. The warm and unequivocal ism of last night's dreaming.

She moved restlessly, feeling her s hardening involuntarily under the tantalising brush of the silk against her flesh. Imagining his hands moving on her—not simply with kindness, but with desire.

Her whole body shivered, languidly, expectantly.

She raised suddenly heavy lids and saw herself reflected in the window pane. Saw the drowsy, shadowed eyes, the heated flush along her cheekbones, the soft, vulnerable mouth. The face of a stranger, she thought dazedly. A stranger who'd lost touch with reality.

Six weeks of her life was what he'd asked for, and was all that he wanted. No more, no less.

'Would it really cost you so much?' he'd challenged her.

It Could do, she thought. It could cost altogether more than I can afford to pay. Because it had suddenly and unwillingly occurred to her that the price of those six weeks could be her heart and soul.

 She was still standing like a statue, trying to come to terms with her moment of truth and failing utterly, when Carrie returned.

'I've brought you some things, my dear.' Carrie dumped the chainstore bags she was carrying onto one of the sofas. 'I don't suppose they're your taste, but they'll tide you over until you can choose for yourself.'

Peeping into the bags, Changmin found an assortment of underwear, two pairs of black leggings and a couple of sweaters patterned in jewel colours to wear with them. There was also a swirl of a skirt, checked in grey and pink, and a pink woollen blouse. Another bag revealed socks, tights and some neat black ankle boots. And Carrie had bought basic toiletries too, including a brush and comb.

'But I didn't expect all this!' Changmin exclaimed almost in dismay.

'Well, you can't drip around in that robe any longer. It doesn't look right.' Carrie loaded the bags into her arms and gave her a gentle push. 'Go and get dressed, and I'll start showing you where everything is.'

'But I'm not staying,' Changmin said quickly, and then, when she saw the look of open disappointment on the older woman's face, she amended quickly, 'At least—I haven't decided yet—but I don't think...'

'Sometimes,' Carrie said severely, 'people think so much they end up in total confusion.' She paused. 'But if you want to know what I think, then you're just what Miss Sohee needs.' She gave Changmin's strained face a long look. 'And maybe she's what you need, too. It hasn't been all fun just recently for you—admit it.'

No, Changmin thought as she went upstairs. But that doesn't justify a thing.

She dressed swiftly in leggings and a sweater, combing her hair so that it curved round her face.

She was embarrassed by the care the other woman had clearly taken to choose clothing that would suit her. It had been a long time since she'd possessed anything half as attractive. But how was she going to pay for it? she wondered, biting her lip.

She received an approving nod when she returned downstairs, and was then swept inexorably into a detailed tour of the house.

Changmin found she was becoming interested, more or less in spite of herself. Apart from the drawing room, which had been crammed with people, she hadn't seen a great deal of the house on her first visit. But, to her relief, Carrie drew the line at showing her the master bedroom, merely pointing out its closed door in passing.

Up in the nursery area,  Changmin was instructed about the care of Sohee's clothes and toys, and shown where everything was kept.

'You won't have to do any actual cleaning. Mrs Watson from the village comes three times a week for that. But you'll be expected to keep these rooms tidy,' Carrie told her. 'Miss Sohee's not a great one for putting things away, so you'll have to be firm.'

It doesn't matter, Changmin wanted to yell, because I'm not staying. I've decided, once and for all, that I don't dare. Because, heaven help me, I can't trust myself.

In reality, she said nothing. Just smiled rather wanly and nodded.

Lunch was home-made broth with crusty bread, and fresh fruit to follow. In spite of
 her emotional turmoil, Changmin ate everything that was put before her.

She was shown how to operate the dishwasher and the washing machine. Then, under Carrie's critical eye, she dealt with a basket of ironing deftly and neatly, and replaced a missing button on a small dress.

'My, the days are drawing in.' Carrie shook her head as she .looked out of the window. 'It'll be quite dark soon, and I've left a few things on the line in the orchard. Bring them in for me, there's a good girl.'

The strong wind had twisted most of the garments round the washing line, and it nipped at Changmin as she struggled to free them.

Above its shrill whine, she heard Yunho quietly say, 'Changmin.'

She dropped the final pair of Sohee's woollen tights into the clothes basket and turned slowly to face him. She hadn't heard his approach over the damp grass, but, even before he'd spoken, she'd felt a sharp ripple of awareness—was conscious that had already begun to curve into a smile, which she had to hastily wipe away.

He was standing a few yards away from her. Even in the fading light, she could see that the dark face looked strained. That his tall figure was tensed—against what? The possibility of rejection?

But that was ridiculous, she thought. He was still the arrogant Jung Yunho. Still the Dark Lord of a dream that could so easily develop into yet another nightmare.

A man to avoid. To evade. And soon.

He said simply, 'I'm going to collect Sohee from school. Will you come with me?' And against every instinct, against all reason, Changmin heard herself say, 'Yes.'