Past All Forgetting
Mills & Boon proudly presents THE SARA CRAVEN COLLECTION. Sara’s powerful and passionate romances have captivated and thrilled readers all over the world for five decades making her an international bestseller.Even as Janna pleaded with Rian for mercy, she realized it was futile.Rian hadn't forgotten anything that had passed between them seven years earlier. Not forgotten–and not forgiven. Why had he come back? What did he intend?Rian laughed sardonically. "You always knew I'd be back, and you know why as well. Hang on to your courage, sweet witch. You're going to need every last ounce of it by the time I've done with you!"
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Former journalist SARA CRAVEN published her first novel ‘Garden of Dreams’ for Mills & Boon in 1975. Apart from her writing (naturally!) her passions include reading, bridge, Italian cities, Greek islands, the French language and countryside, and her rescue Jack Russell/cross Button. She has appeared on several TV quiz shows and in 1997 became UK TV Mastermind champion. She lives near her family in Warwickshire – Shakespeare country.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
JANNA PRENTISS stole a swift glance at her watch, and stifled her amusement as she realised the gesture was being surreptitiously copied all around the classroom. Not that she could really blame the children, she thought tolerantly. The autumn term was the longest, and this half-term break was more than welcome—to the teachers as well as the pupils. When they came back after their week’s holiday, everything would slide with ever-increasing momentum towards the hectic excitement of Christmas, and its attendant Nativity plays, carol concerts and frantic present-making.
A lot of her fellow staff members groaned both inwardly and aloud at the prospect, but Janna always found herself rather looking forward to Christmas, in spite of all the extra work. She enjoyed the yards of paper chains and the parties, and helping to cut out robins and holly which actually bore some resemblance to the real thing for the home-made calendars and cards.
It was this part of the year that she found so disturbing. She glanced out through the big window to the tree which dominated the centre of the tarmac playground. The summer had been long and lingering, but now, in late October, a wind with all the chill of winter in its breath was shaking loose the last remaining leaves and sending them drifting in little eddies to the ground.
The lunch bell was due to go at any moment. Quietly, she told the child at the top of each table to collect up the books and hand them in. There wouldn’t be any work that afternoon. Mrs Parsons, the headmistress, had hired some films, and the children were seething with excitement, vehemently arguing the merits of Tom and Jerry over Bugs Bunny. She chivvied them into a certain amount of quiet and order, and along the corridor to the school hall for lunch. It was mince, she noted wryly, with the soya bean which seemed an inevitable addition these days, and it was a taste she hadn’t been able to acquire to far, although the children seemed to like it well enough. She wandered back towards the staffroom. She wasn’t particularly hungry. She had an apple in her briefcase, and she would make do with that.
As she walked past the school office, Vivien Lennard, the school secretary, peered round the door at her. ‘Oh, there you are, Janna. I was just going to send a kid with a note to find you. Colin rang to say he would pick you up in five minutes.’
‘Oh.’ Janna paused for a moment, taken aback. She did occasionally have lunch with Colin, but he usually gave her a fair amount of warning. She knew that if she’d spoken to Colin herself, she would have made an excuse. She didn’t feel like indulging in a large and probably stodgy meal at the White Hart, whose dining room was Carrisford’s only restaurant.
‘Cheer up!’ Vivien sounded amused. ‘Anyone would think you’d just had the death sentence pronounced! Well, that comes later, dear—at the wedding. For now, you’re just engaged to the lad, so why not enjoy it?’
Janna smiled in spite of herself, knowing quite well that Vivien herself was as happily married as it was almost possible to be.
‘Sorry if I’m ruining your image of love’s young dream,’ she returned. ‘I’m just feeling a little jaded, that’s all. It’s been damned hard work this term so far. This class hasn’t been as easy to get to know as some that I’ve had.’
‘Never mind.’ Vivien gave her a pat on the arm. ‘When you and Colin get married, all this will just seem like some horrible dream. He does still want you to give up work straight away, doesn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ Janna agreed with something of an effort, ‘he does.’
Vivien stared at her. ‘Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts!’
Janna smiled faintly. ‘Oh, not about Colin. Just about giving up work. It seems so—so odd, somehow. I just can’t visualise myself as a lady of leisure.’
‘A lady of leisure—with Colin’s home to run, and all that entertaining you’ll be called on to do, not to mention having a family of your own some day? You’re kidding!’
‘I suppose it does sound ridiculous. But when I started my training I thought I’d be teaching for years to come.’
‘The dedicated spinster, I suppose, with Prime Ministers coming to wring your gnarled hand and swear they got their inspiration from you.’ Vivien’s laugh was infectious. She gave Janna a shrewd all-encompassing glance from the sleek cap of smooth dark hair which curved forward on to her cheeks, and the slightly tilting green eyes, down over her slender but rounded figure to her slim legs and small feet in fashionably high-heeled shoes. ‘I’m sorry, my dear, but you don’t fit the image at all.’
