Yesterday's Scars

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘He isn’t a stranger! He—’

  ‘A comparative stranger maul you about in that way,’ he continued firmly. ‘He was almost making love to you right there in front of everyone.’

  ‘Don’t exaggerate!’ she burst out angrily, lowering her voice as another couple walked past them. ‘We were dancing, that’s all.’

  ‘Dancing!’ he scoffed, his eyes running over her disgustedly. ‘It wouldn’t be quite so bad if he was the man you came here with. He must be about the tenth different man I’ve seen you with tonight.’

  ‘Dancing,’ she insisted.

  ‘Like hell!’ he muttered savagely. ‘How would you like to dance with me like that?’ he demanded.

  The thought terrified her. ‘Don’t be silly, Rafe!’ She gave a quivery laugh.

  ‘I’m not being silly, Hazel, I’m furiously angry. Everyone has seen the exhibition you’re making of yourself.’

  ‘And of you.’ She shook her head disbelievingly. ‘That’s the real trouble, isn’t it, Rafe? I’m dragging the Savage name into disrepute. All those people in there know I’m your ward. That’s what you’re really worried about.’

  ‘That’s a lie. I’m worried about what you’re doing to yourself. I’ve never seen you act this way before.’

  ‘Haven’t you?’ she asked in a choked voice. ‘Haven’t you really? I seem to remember another occasion when I acted even worse than this.’ She threw back her head in challenge. ‘But we don’t talk about that, do we? We pretend it never happened.’

  He moved away, his broad shoulders turned firmly away from her. ‘Leave it, Hazel!’ he ordered gruffly.

  ‘Leave it, leave it!’ she cried. ‘That’s always your answer, isn’t it? Leave it. Well, I’m not going to leave it any more! I—’

  ‘Rafe darling,’ purred a deep sultry voice, ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’

  Hazel turned to look at the beautiful redhead who was Rafe’s chosen partner of the evening. Her hair was a bright glistening cap, her beautiful face perfectly made up. The gown she wore was buttercup yellow and should have clashed with her hair, but didn’t. Hazel searched that face for some sign of hostility towards her, after all she had taken Rafe away from her side, for whatever reason. But there was no hostility, only friendly curiosity. Strangely that made Hazel feel more uneasy than outright antagonism.

  Rafe smiled at the woman, a smile of affection. ‘My ward was feeling—unwell. I brought her out here for some air.’

  Big blue eyes turned to Hazel. ‘What a shame! I hope you’re feeling better now?’

  Hazel swallowed with difficulty. ‘Much better, thank you.’ And she did, suddenly stone cold sober, the ache in the pit of her stomach telling her she still hadn’t eaten.

  The other woman smiled. ‘I’m Janine Clarke, by the way.’

  ‘Hazel Stanford,’ Hazel supplied softly.

  ‘Oh, I know that,’ Janine laughed. ‘Rafe’s told me a lot about you.’

  Hazel looked at him sharply. ‘Really?’

  Janine nodded. ‘Oh yes. But at a guess I would say he’s never mentioned me to you.’

  ‘Well, I—’

  ‘Janine lives in the old Russell house,’ Rafe told her abruptly. ‘You wouldn’t believe the changes she’s made there. I couldn’t believe it was the same place.’

  So Rafe visited this beautiful woman in her home! Hazel looked at the woman with new eyes, wondering just how friendly the two of them were. There was certainly an affection between them. ‘Have you lived there long?’ she asked politely. The last time she had seen the Russell house it had been almost derelict.

  ‘Almost a year. Rafe’s been so helpful in making me feel at home.’

  ‘So you moved here just after Rafe’s accident.’ Hazel wondered if there was any connection.

  ‘Yes. But we’ve known each other for years.’

  ‘You know Celia too, then?’

  Janine laughed softly. ‘I knew Celia first. We were at school together.’

  ‘Oh.’ What else could she say? She had always known Rafe had women friends, he was much too sensual not to have, but she had never met one of them before. Much as she would have liked to have disliked Janine Clarke she found her a pleasant, friendly woman. She should have been bitchy and possessive, the sort of person she could hate without any qualms. But perhaps Miss Clarke didn’t feel she needed to be that way with Rafe’s young ward.

  ‘I think you should be getting home, Hazel.’ Rafe’s words were no less an order for being said so pleasantly. ‘You’ve had a busy two days.’

  ‘But it’s only ten-thirty,’ she protested, embarrassed at being treated like a child in front of this woman, and unwittingly acting like one. ‘Much too early to go home.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I think you should leave.’ His eyes commanded her to obey him.

  ‘No!’ she said sharply. ‘I’m not in the least tired.’

  His mouth tightened. ‘No one said anything about you being tired.’

  His meaning was clear and colour flooded her cheeks anew. ‘I don’t feel ill any more either.’

  He grimaced at Janine Clarke. ‘I told you how stubborn she can be.’

  Anger flared. So he had discussed her with this woman! How dared he! ‘I’m not being stubborn, Rafe,’ she told him in a controlled voice. ‘I just don’t like being bossed about like a child.’

  ‘Then perhaps you shouldn’t act like one.’

  Now it was Janine Clarke’s turn to look uncomfortable. ‘Would you like me to wait for you inside, Rafe?’

  Hazel smiled tightly. ‘That won’t be necessary, Miss Clarke. Rafe and I have said all we have to say.’ She turned her heel and walked away.

  A hand touched her arm. ‘Please, Miss Stanford— Hazel,’ Janine Clarke said pleadingly. ‘I’m sure Rafe didn’t—’

  Rafe wrenched her away. ‘Yes, I damn well did! Hazel knows exactly what I meant.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed bitterly. ‘But thank you for your concern, Miss Clarke.’

  ‘She doesn’t need it, Janine, that I can assure you,’ Rafe put in harshly.

  Hazel smiled brightly, tears shimmering in her eyes. ‘No, I don’t need it. You grow up tough in the Savage household, you have to or you don’t survive.’

  ‘You survived, Hazel,’ Rafe said with mocking humour.

  She looked at him defiantly. ‘But not without a few scars.’

  ‘You have to expect that in battle.’

  Hazel felt as if for the moment they were alone. ‘They aren’t all battle scars,’ she said huskily. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me I have to find Carl.’

  ‘And get him to take you home.’

  Her head was aching so much that that was all she wanted to do, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Rafe. ‘I’ll go home when I’m good and ready. And I’m not.’

  He shrugged. ‘Please yourself. Personally I’m ready to leave. Janine?’

  ‘I’m ready too.’

  Rafe nodded to Hazel. ‘Goodnight,’ he said curtly. He took Janine’s arm and guided her into the clubhouse on his way out.

  Hazel blinked twice, feeling as if she should have been the one to walk away. She was left feeling slightly deflated—and with no further wish to stay at the dance any longer.

  A look around the clubhouse didn’t reveal where Carl was hiding himself, but Trisha and Mark had just returned to the table, Trisha’s face glowing with happiness.

  ‘Have you seen Carl?’ Hazel asked them.

  ‘He was with—’

  ‘He’s in the bar, I think,’ Trisha interrupted. ‘Sit down with us for a while and he’ll probably be back soon.’

  Hazel sat down. Her legs didn’t feel as if they would hold her much longer anyway. After ten minutes there was still no sign of Carl and the conversation was beginning to wane, mainly due to her own tiredness.

  She looked about them anxiously. ‘Are you sure Carl’s at the bar?’

  ‘Well yes, he—’

  Trisha stopped speaking as
Carl could clearly be seen across the other side of the room. And he wasn’t alone, Celia was sparkling up at him, holding him completely enrapt.

  Hazel looked reproachfully at Trisha. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked softly.

  Her friend looked sympathetic. ‘Because I knew how you would react. It isn’t as it seems. Celia came over to our table and invited Carl for a drink.’

  ‘Which he was eager to accept.’

  ‘Hey, come on,’ Mark interrupted lightly. ‘You haven’t exactly been clinging to his arm all evening.’

  ‘Stop it, Mark!’ Trisha admonished. ‘You don’t understand.’

  Hazel had turned away from the laughing couple standing across the other side of the room. ‘It’s all right, Trisha, Mark does have a point.’ She raised her hand to her aching temple. ‘I haven’t even spoken to Carl for the last hour.’

  ‘That isn’t the point,’ Trisha objected. ‘Celia headed straight this way as soon as she came in.’

  ‘When did she arrive?’

  ‘About forty minutes ago,’ Trisha grimaced. ‘She came with that crowd over there.’ She nodded towards the bar.

  There were eight or nine people standing about the doorway that led to the bar, all of them chattering noisily. They were probably enjoying themselves, but by doing so they were spoiling it for everyone else. Some of the older couples had already left, obviously expecting trouble of some sort.

  ‘Sara told me she was running around with a wild crowd,’ Hazel remembered.

  ‘Oh, they’re definitely that,’ Trisha agreed. ‘They come from all the rich families in the area, and think the whole world is their oyster.’

  Hazel laughed. ‘You’re beginning to sound like Sara! She doesn’t approve of them either.’

  Trisha gave a rueful smile. ‘Sorry. But they don’t exactly endear themselves to people.’

  ‘I think I’ll leave now,’ said Hazel, standing up. ‘I’ve had enough for one day.’ Thank goodness Rafe couldn’t hear her saying this!

  ‘I’ll go and get Carl,’ Mark offered.

  ‘No,’ she held on to his arm, ‘don’t bother him. I can quite easily get a taxi.’

  ‘Certainly not!’ Trisha exclaimed, scandalised. ‘I’m ready to go now too. We can drop Hazel off, can’t we, Mark?’

  ‘Sure.’ He held Trisha’s chair back for her.

  ‘Oh no, really,’ Hazel protested. ‘I can find my own way home. I could walk, for that matter.’

  Mark shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t hear of it. Your home is on our way.’

  ‘Oh well, if you’re sure,’ she gave in.

  The house was in relative darkness when she arrived home, the only light seeming to be in the hallway. It didn’t look as if Rafe had arrived home yet, or if he had he had gone straight to bed. That didn’t seem very likely; he was probably still with the beautiful Janine.

  ‘Thanks for the lift.’ She got out of the car.

  Trisha lowered her window. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow. Perhaps we can go swimming or something.’

  Hazel thought of all the letters she had to type the next day. ‘I’m not sure about the swimming—I may still be working, but call anyway.’

  ‘Surely you don’t intend working on a Sunday?’

  She grimaced. ‘I think I shall have to. There’s an awful lot to do.’

  ‘I’m sure Rafe doesn’t expect it.’

  Hazel’s mouth tightened. ‘Whether he expects it or not I’m still going to do it. Goodnight, Trisha, Mark.’

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ Trisha waved.

  Hazel hesitated on the driveway, not wanting to enter the house. Too much had happened to her this evening for her to meekly go up to her room and go to sleep. But she desperately needed something to eat, and the food was in the house.

  There was plenty to choose from in the refrigerator, but as she didn’t want to be in here all night she opted to make herself a ham sandwich and poured herself a glass of milk to accompany it.

  She felt much better once she had eaten, clearing away the debris before leaving the kitchen. But she still wasn’t ready to go to bed, her mind was too active for that. The cabin was clean and habitable now, with clean bed-linen and everything she would need to freshen herself up in the morning. She would go for a walk along the sea-shore and then spend the night at the cabin. No one would know she had gone anyway.

  The gentle breeze blowing off the sea soon cleared her head and she kicked off her shoes to paddle in the warm water. The moon reflected on the calm sea made it quite bright out here.

  The evening hadn’t been a success, in fact it had been a dismal failure. As much as she hated admitting it, Rafe was right, she had made an absolute fool of herself. She had behaved in a way she had thought never to behave again. And she couldn’t blame that completely on Carl’s interest in Celia; it had started long before that. She was more upset about her argument earlier with Rafe than she was about Carl’s defection. And their meeting later hadn’t been all that good either.

  She wasn’t so sure it was a good idea to stay on here, but she didn’t relish the idea of leaving either. For three years she had lived in relative peace and quiet, and she hadn’t known a moment’s peace since returning to England.

  She yawned tiredly, putting off all decisions until tomorrow. But she would have to decide some time, and in the not too distant future. She would be a wreck if she stayed here much longer, a physical and emotional wreck.

  It was warmer in the cabin, the bed made up invitingly. She was more than ready for that, feeling as if she could sleep for a week. There was no electricity down here, but she lit the candles she had remembered to bring down this afternoon.

  She was lying in bed, the sheet pulled up over her naked body, just drifting off to sleep, when she heard the crunching of sand underfoot. The footsteps moved from the back to the front of the cabin, and Hazel stared fearfully at the door.

  Who was out there? Hardly anyone knew of this place. It had to be a prowler. She was here all alone, and no one knew she was here! Rafe had warned her about coming down here on her own, and it looked as if now was the time he was going to be proved right. And what a time, with her sitting here naked!

  She pulled the sheet around her, searching on the side-table for the matches to light the candles. It was so dark in here that it made the situation more frightening than it was. At least, she hoped it did!

  A match was in her hand ready to strike as the door flew open and a man stood silhouetted in the doorway. Hazel struck the match with a new desperation and turned to look at the man. ‘Rafe!’ she breathed his name with relief. ‘Oh God, Rafe! You scared the life out of me!’

  His face was livid with anger in the dim light. ‘You deserve to be scared! You’re a damned little fool who deserves to be raped!’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘RAFE!’ she pouted at him reproachfully.

  He slammed the door behind him, still dressed in the elegant white suit and navy blue shirt he had been wearing at the dance this evening. That meant he had just returned from Janine Clarke’s, and it was one o’clock in the morning. She didn’t need a vivid imagination to know what had gone on in the two and a half hours since he had left the dance.

  ‘Don’t you “Rafe” me!’ he said fiercely. ‘Do you realise the trouble you’ve caused?’

  Her brown eyes opened wide. ‘Trouble?’ she frowned. ‘What sort of trouble?’

  ‘The sort of trouble only you could cause,’ he snapped coldly, coming to stand beside the bed. ‘Look at you now, you’re stark naked under that sheet. And for all the good it’s doing you might as well not even bother with that!’

  She clutched the sheet even further to her, her face flushed with embarrassment. ‘Well, if you would just step outside I’ll get dressed.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘Oh, but I—I can’t get dressed with you here.’

  He shrugged. ‘Why not? I’ve seen you naked before, and not so long ago.’r />
  She turned away. ‘Don’t remind me!’

  ‘All right, I won’t.’ He looked around the cabin. ‘I see you’ve cleaned the place up.’

  ‘It didn’t need much doing to it. I was surprised at the good condition it was in. Now, why were you looking for me?’

  Rafe raised one dark eyebrow. ‘Not going to get dressed?’

  ‘No!’

  He gave a mocking smile. ‘Shame!’

  ‘Rafe!’

  ‘Okay, okay. I was looking for you because I didn’t know if you’d been hurt or not.’

  ‘Why should I be hurt?’

  ‘Because there was a fight at the club about eleven-thirty and several people were taken to hospital. I went to your bedroom, and when you weren’t there I went to the hospital to see if you were one of the people who’d been injured. You weren’t, but no one else seemed to know what had happened to you. I’ve been looking all over the place for you. I should have known you were here.’

  ‘But I—I didn’t know. I didn’t realise.’

  Rafe sat down on the bed, shaking her roughly. ‘You never do. You always rush headlong into trouble without thought for anyone but yourself. I’ve been frantic looking for you!’

  There was an electric stillness between them, his hands burning her skin. ‘Why—why did you go to my bedroom?’ she asked.

  ‘I told you, to look for you,’ he said impatiently.

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Why should you care? You weren’t there, so it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Was—was anyone seriously hurt in the fight?’ She felt mesmerised by his closeness, drugged by the male smell of his body and the aftershave he always wore.

  ‘No,’ he murmured huskily. ‘Celia was involved, that’s how I knew about it.’

  Hazel looked concerned. ‘Is she all right?’

  ‘Yes. Apparently one of her crowd was being slightly insulting, too much drink, I should think, and your Carl took exception to it and rushed to Celia’s defence.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Celia thought it was all very amusing.’