by Maggie Cox
Eve and Doug Webster were Piers’s oldest friends. Doug and he had worked together briefly before he gave up the corporate world to start a business of his own—a charming little hotel in the Cotswolds that was going from strength to strength. Occasionally, when he could spare the time, Piers stayed there and one would be hard put to find a more charming hostess than the lovely red-haired Eve. It was a rare occasion indeed when Piers was able to invite his friends to his home as he was always away so much, so he had been delighted when they’d said they could come. Now, as they laughed and talked over dinner, Piers was acutely aware of the fact that Emma had hardly said a thing. Not only that, but she had hardly touched the delicious food Mrs Mayes had prepared either. She was sitting opposite him next to an effusive Doug, a brief smile touching her perfect lips at some hilarious story Doug was relating, but behind her smile Piers sensed an even deeper sadness than usual and couldn’t dispel the feeling of anxiety that crept into his bones. Had she changed her mind about staying with him? Was she going to tell him after his guests had left that she was leaving after all? Studying her face in the candlelight, Piers couldn’t prevent the powerful stab of possessiveness that knifed through him. She couldn’t leave him. Not yet…
‘You haven’t heard a single word I’ve said, have you, Piers?’ Taking a generous slug of red wine, Doug narrowed his merry brown eyes suspiciously at his friend. ‘So…have you got something you’d like to share with Eve and me?’
His gaze suddenly sombre, Piers didn’t flinch from the other man’s searching glance. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Well, all you’ve done throughout dinner is gaze at the lovely Emma—not that I blame you for a moment, mind. She is rather gorgeous.’
‘Steady, lover-boy, or you’ll be going home on your own tonight.’ Her stunning green eyes flashing, Eve Webster glanced from her husband to Emma and grinned good-naturedly.
‘So, have you got something you’d like to tell us about you and the lovely young lady by my side, or haven’t you?’ Doug persisted. Beside him, Emma let her gaze gravitate to Piers, meeting his burning blue response with understandable trepidation. It was an intensely awkward moment but she couldn’t help but be interested in how he was going to explain her presence here to his friends.
‘Emma is a friend…that’s all.’
Her insides turned to ice at his almost dismissive words. Of course, she hadn’t expected him to elaborate on their relationship, but to be so heartlessly dismissive, as if she was hardly worthy of mention… Forcing herself to smile, Emma fought back her hurt and shrugged. ‘That’s right. We’re just…friends.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
SHE escaped shortly afterwards on the pretext of needing the bathroom. The few stolen minutes in her room on her own, gathering her thoughts, helped Emma make up her mind what she was going to do. Pulling the ivory-backed hairbrush through her hair—part of the beautiful antique set that Piers had provided for her use—Emma sat in front of the dressing table, shocked at how pale she appeared. There were deepening shadows beneath her eyes and her skin looked thin and stretched, just as she felt inside.
What she needed was a holiday, and, since she now had the money to enable her to have one, that was exactly what she was going to have. Tomorrow she’d go into town and book a flight to the sunniest tropical place on the globe she could find, where she could relax and plan what she was going to do next with her life. It was the perfect time to go. Her flat was being redecorated and wouldn’t be ready for occupation for another three weeks and she couldn’t face going back to her grandmother’s house just yet. But most of all her desire to escape boiled down to one thing—Piers didn’t really want her in his house and he most certainly didn’t need her. How could Emma believe he did when he’d clearly been highly embarrassed at the idea his friends might find out his real relationship with her? ‘Emma is just a friend,’ he’d said—if you read between the lines, nobody of any account.
Hugging her arms around the thin white silk blouse that she’d matched with black velvet trousers, she fought back the pain cramping her throat, opened the door and went soft-footed down the winding staircase to rejoin the others in the drawing-room. Just as she reached the door she heard Eve exclaim, ‘She’s a waitress? Oh, Piers!’
Her stomach turned over with a sickening lurch. She could just imagine what was going through the Websters’ minds right now. Were they laughing at her behind her back? Perhaps amused that a girl who was a mere waitress thought she was good enough to hobnob with the likes of such exalted company? Was Piers laughing too? The force of her anger making her tremble, Emma withdrew her shaking hand from the brass doorknob to try and compose herself. When Mrs Mayes suddenly appeared beside her carrying four filled champagne flutes on a silver tray, the kindly housekeeper’s warm hazel eyes swept over Emma with concern. ‘Are you all right, Miss Robards? Aren’t you feeling well, dear?’
‘I’m fine, thank you. I just needed a little air. Let me take those for you.’
‘Oh, no, dear, I—’
‘Please.’ Emma flashed her warmest smile. ‘I insist. I was just going back inside anyway.’
Reluctantly Mrs Mayes released the tray into Emma’s capable hands. ‘Thank you, dear, that’s very kind. Enjoy the rest of your evening, won’t you?’
A moment later, Emma swept into the room with the tray of drinks. Eve and Doug were seated either side of the beautiful, imposing fireplace as she entered, while Piers stood by one of the tall Georgian windows, looking somehow restless, as if he had too much energy to merely sit still. Perhaps he was having regrets about offering her the hospitality of his home? Maybe he’d come around to thinking it might be better if he just let her go after all—especially if her presence was going to make him feel awkward in front of his friends. She was sure it wouldn’t be long before he found someone to replace her anyway… Her heart welling with hurt, Emma tried to calm her rising temper, as the glasses on the tray had started to rattle alarmingly.
‘Emma?’ He seemed surprised to see her with the tray, his handsome face serious as she answered him with a brittle little smile.
‘Yes, Piers?’
‘What are you doing carrying that? I asked Mrs Mayes to bring in the champagne.’
‘What’s the matter? Embarrassed at the reminder of what I do for a living?’ Her dark-eyed gaze defiantly swinging from Piers to the couple seated either side of the fireplace, Emma put the tray down carefully on the coffee-table and straightened angrily. ‘I’m not going to apologise for what I do to anyone! I’m a damn good waitress, if I say so myself, and I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of! Funny how in company I’m suddenly not good enough, isn’t it? You didn’t seem to think so when I was in your bed!’
‘What nonsense is this?’
She sensed his rage even though there was a good six feet plus of dark blue Aubusson carpet separating them, wondering how he managed to convey such steely composure when he was obviously smouldering with anger inside. But, of course, he was ever the smooth, unruffled professional, she realised—the only time she’d ever really seen him let his guard down remotely was in bed.
‘It’s not nonsense! I heard you laughing at me.’
‘Emma, darling, I didn’t mean to—’ Eve Webster got to her feet, her hand pressed in alarm to the V of her pretty emerald-green blouse.
Before she could continue, Piers interjected, ‘Will you excuse us for a moment? Emma and I need to have a little talk.’ He had moved across the room with a stealth that took Emma by surprise and now, with his hand firmly anchored beneath her elbow and deliberately ignoring her mutinous glare, he guided her purposefully from the room.
‘What the hell was all that about? Do you think my friends give a damn what you do for a living?’
‘Let go of my arm!’ Emma fumed, wrenching her elbow free. ‘I don’t care to be manhandled!’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Oh, I’m ridiculous now, am I? As well as an embarrassment?’
> Looking as if he was mentally counting to ten, Piers let loose a heavy sigh and pushed his fingers through his hair.
‘You’ve embarrassed nobody but yourself with that little scene just now.’
A red mist in front of her eyes, Emma couldn’t stop the emotion that was pouring through her like white water. ‘Of course. How could I be so stupid? A man who doesn’t feel anything can’t possibly be embarrassed, can he? You probably surround yourself with friends who are just the same. All wearing your social masks like the pros you are! Too afraid to come out and rub shoulders with real people now and again in case the experience taints you in some way!’
Pausing to draw breath, Emma saw with alarm the tiny throb of muscle in Piers’s smooth forehead. Wondering this time if she’d gone too far, she concluded that if she was going to make a dramatic exit from his life then she might as well go for broke because she was convinced now that she definitely didn’t have a future that included Piers Redfield. His comment at dinner that they were ‘just friends’ had confirmed it.
‘You think I don’t feel things?’ he challenged, his eyes emanating little sparks of blue ice. ‘Your opinion just demonstrates you don’t know the first damn thing about me.’
‘And why is that?’ Her brows shooting up to her hairline, Emma glared back at him. ‘You made sure right from the off that you were a closed book as far as I was concerned. You gave me access to your body and your house and your car but not your mind or your heart! No wonder Lawrence could never get through to you—no wonder he had to resort to cheating and lying and playing stupid games to get your attention! You’re the original iceman, Piers. You don’t understand such a concept as ‘‘need.’’ You don’t need anybody or anything and you damn well like it that way!’
‘You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.’
‘No? You sit up there in your ivory tower, acting as if you run the world—making sure your staff keep out the riff-raff. Not only that, you think you can buy whoever you want with your wealth. You’re as bad as my father, assuaging his conscience with blood money! Did I forget myself for a minute and imagine I was your equal just because you deigned to notice me?’ As she dropped a mocking curtsy, Emma’s dark eyes flashed her disdain. ‘Please, sir, forgive me, sir, I’m your humble servant, sir!’
His temper near to exploding, Piers locked his hands around her upper arms in her thin silk blouse and yanked her hard against his chest. Before she had time to protest he extinguished any further dissent with a hotly passionate, furious kiss, his heart racing as he felt her initial resistance melt and her body sink bonelessly against his. When he withdrew his mouth, her breath was escaping in soft little gasps against his skin and all the blood in his body had only one destination in mind.
‘I’ve got many faults, Emma, but I hope thinking I’m better than anyone else isn’t one of them. And I’ve certainly never tried to buy someone’s affection with money. I know who I am, what I stand for and where I’ve come from. For your information my father was a labourer and my mother a school cook, and my friends Eve and Doug? They’re both in the catering business. In fact Eve started out her career as a waitress herself. I’ve rubbed shoulders with ‘‘real’’ people all my life and having money and a high-powered career hasn’t changed that.’
Wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her, Emma shakily extricated herself from Piers’s embrace and took a less than steady step away from him. Her lips throbbed and ached from the brutal passion of his kiss and her treacherous body couldn’t seem to help craving his touch the way a starving man craved food. But her overriding emotion was deep and profound embarrassment that she’d humiliated herself so badly.
‘But I thought—’
‘You thought you weren’t good enough to meet my friends because they were somehow above you. Isn’t it about time you lost that chip on your shoulder?’
‘I—’
‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. Your self-inflicted feelings of inferiority are stopping you from getting on with your life, Emma. Have I ever honestly made you feel that I looked down on you in any way because of what you do?’ His jaw clenched, Piers was still clearly furious and, try as she might as she gazed anxiously into his eyes, Emma couldn’t seem to get her heart to regain its natural rhythm.
‘No, but—’
‘Then don’t look for reasons to confirm your poor opinion of yourself where there aren’t any.’
Was he right? Emma wondered. Had she been putting up barriers without even realising it? Had she made her fears self-fulfilling? She’d been hiding behind that chip on her shoulder for so long, it had become a habit she should have dumped long ago.
His countenance unsmiling, Piers shook his head slowly from side to side. ‘Take five minutes to compose yourself,’ he advised, his expression grim. ‘Then, when you’ve calmed down, come back in and join the company.’
Biting back a hurt retort and feeling like a naughty schoolgirl who had just been severely rebuked by the headmaster, Emma returned upstairs to her room—her throat unbearably tight, angry tears making her eyes sting.
Emma hadn’t returned to join Piers and his friends that evening and she most certainly hadn’t calmed down. Now, in the early hours of the morning, spooning coffee granules into a mug as she waited for the kettle to boil in the huge, luxurious kitchen, she told herself he must have been relieved when she didn’t reappear. Certainly at no point had he come to her room to try and persuade her to join them. Emma stared off into space, her stomach churning with the possibility that he might have finally written her off for good. How could she possibly redeem herself in his eyes after she had accused him of so many dreadful things? Her stomach groaned at the thought. Now he probably couldn’t wait to be rid of her. It didn’t help her frame of mind that her body was aching with all the heartfelt longing of a creature yearning for its mate whenever she thought of Piers. Telling herself it was probably for the best that they hadn’t ended up spending the night together under the circumstances, she vowed to let him know her plans today and make a clean break. She threaded her fingers through her newly washed hair, a forlorn sigh escaping her, the very thought making her heart feel as if it was weighed down with lead.
The door opened as if on cue and suddenly the object of her thoughts was there in the flesh—looking for all the world as if he’d enjoyed the sleep of the innocent, handsome and devastating in dark blue jeans and a charcoal-grey crew-neck sweater. For a moment speech deserted Emma. Then, desperately trying to gather her wits, she managed a nervous little smile.
‘You’re up early.’ Hugging her chest, she wished with all her heart that she were properly dressed, instead of standing there in just her nightwear. She felt vulnerable enough without her skimpy clothing giving her a disadvantage.
‘I’m going to Cornwall today with Lawrence. Remember?’
At the sight of her slim, shapely figure attired only in her very fetching eau-de-Nil nightdress and wrap, her long dark hair curling damply over her shoulders, Piers felt all the heat in his body shift commandingly to his loins. So much for the supposed effectiveness of ice-cold showers. He hadn’t wanted to stay away from her last night, but after her outburst earlier in the evening he’d convinced himself she needed some breathing space. Now he wished he’d convinced himself otherwise. In any case he’d hardly slept. It just didn’t feel right not to have her there in his arms, sharing his bed. All night long he had been restless for her touch. Then finally, in the early hours, when it was still as black as coal outside, Piers had pushed aside his covers, headed straight for the bathroom and braved a full twenty minutes beneath a freezing cold shower in a bid to try and curb his lustful craving for Emma. Now, looking at her, he knew it hadn’t worked. If he hadn’t agreed to help Lawrence to move today, he would be persuading her to come straight back to bed with him and wouldn’t let her go until he’d convinced her that her beauty and desirability had no match.
‘Of course. He must
be so excited. It’s his dream to go to Cornwall and make his living as an artist.’
‘Whether he’ll make a living out of it remains to be seen, but I guess you can’t fault him for trying.’
His unexpected grin tied Emma’s stomach into severe knots. She blushed helplessly, disconcerting heat seeming to flood her limbs. ‘I’m glad that you’re both getting along better. Parents and children should always try to reconcile their differences, in my view. Once your parents are gone, you don’t get another chance.’
Once again Piers sensed the sadness in her and found himself wishing with all his heart that he could do something to ease it. ‘Maybe one day your father will decide to get in touch, Emma. You should never give up hope.’
‘I doubt it. He’s made his feelings on the matter perfectly clear, wouldn’t you say?’ There was a fleeting flash of pain in her beautiful dark eyes, then she shrugged it off as if it had never been and smiled. ‘Anyway, I wanted to tell you that I won’t be here tomorrow when you get back, and it’s not because I’m not grateful that you’ve offered me a place to stay while my flat’s being decorated. It’s just that I’ve decided I need a holiday. And maybe…maybe it’s time we properly parted company? You have the demands of your work and Lawrence, and I—I really need to think about what I’m going to do with my life now that I’ve suddenly found myself with some new options.’