Yesterday's Scars

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘There’s a visitor for Miss Celia,’ Sara said worriedly. ‘I told him she wasn’t here, but when he asked when she would be back I didn’t know what to say.’

  ‘Who is it?’ asked Hazel.

  ‘A Mr Logan.’

  Carl, and he was here to see Celia! ‘Show him in, Sara. I’ll talk to him.’

  Carl came into the room, looking quite handsome in a dark brown suit and tan-coloured shirt. He took one look at Hazel and smiled. ‘Snap!’

  Their matching black eyes were both just going through the yellowish stage. Hazel returned his smile. ‘Sit down,’ she invited. ‘Can I get you anything to drink?’

  ‘No, thanks. I had a date with Celia tonight, but your housekeeper said she’d already gone out.’

  ‘She’s gone, Carl,’ Hazel told him gently, knowing no other way to tell him.

  She could clearly see his puzzlement. ‘What do you mean, gone?’

  Hazel sighed. ‘She left this morning and we aren’t expecting her back.’

  Carl sank slowly into a chair, his face white. ‘You mean she’s gone for good?’ he asked dazedly.

  ‘I’m afraid so. She left in rather a hurry, so she probably ably forgot your date. I’m sure she’ll call you when she realises.’ She wasn’t sure of any such thing, but she hoped Celia would have the decency to apologise to the poor boy, although she doubted it. She stood up. ‘I think I should get you that drink after all.’ She poured him out a large measure of whisky into a glass and watched as he drank half of it in one gulp. ‘Better?’

  He nodded. ‘But I don’t understand. Celia didn’t say anything about going away when we went out together last night.’

  ‘It was all rather sudden,’ she explained.

  ‘Is someone ill? Is that it?’

  Hazel couldn’t see Celia rushing to anyone’s bedside even if they were ill, but she didn’t say that to this obviously infatuated man. She bit her lip. ‘I don’t really know how to explain this, but—well, Celia didn’t like the idea of my marrying her brother.’

  ‘You’re going to marry Rafe Savage?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And that’s why Celia left?’ He sounded incredulous.

  ‘Try to understand how she felt, Carl,’ she said quickly. ‘She’s been mistress here a long time, it must be hard for her to accept Rafe taking a wife at this late stage.’ In fact she felt sure Celia hadn’t expected Rafe to marry at all.

  ‘But even so …’

  ‘She’ll come round, Carl, I’m sure of it.’ If for no other reason than that Rafe held the purse strings.

  He took a deep breath. ‘So you’re going to marry your cousin.’

  ‘He isn’t my cousin, Carl, we aren’t related. My father already had me before he married Rafe’s cousin.’

  Carl stood up. ‘I think I should be going now, I’ve taken up enough of your time.’ He put the empty glass down on the table.

  Hazel stood up too. ‘Oh, don’t go yet, Carl. It’s early.’ She wasn’t in the mood for her own company at the moment.

  ‘No, I think I should go.’

  ‘Stay and keep me company,’ she smiled enticingly.

  ‘No, I—’

  ‘Oh, stay, Mr Logan,’ drawled Rafe from the open doorway. ‘My fiancée so obviously craves your company that it would be a pity to disappoint her.’ He came into the room, closing the door heavily behind him. ‘Don’t mind me,’ he poured himself a glassful of whisky. ‘Just carry on as if I weren’t here.’

  Hazel glanced hurriedly at Carl, seeing his embarrassment. ‘Rafe!’ she said sharply.

  He gave her an insolent look. ‘Yes?’

  ‘You’re embarrassing our visitor.’

  He looked coldly at Carl. ‘He isn’t my visitor. If you must invite your ex-lovers to the house don’t expect me to entertain them.’

  ‘Rafe!’ She was deathly white, her eyes a cloudy brown.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Hazel,’ Carl interrupted. ‘I was leaving now anyway.’ He nodded abruptly to the other man. ‘Goodnight, Mr Savage—Hazel.’

  She caught up with him in the hallway. ‘I’m sorry about that, Carl. He’s upset about his sister leaving,’ she lied, knowing full well that it was finding her alone in the lounge with Carl that had sparked off Rafe’s anger.

  He squeezed her hand understandingly. ‘I understand, if I were him I’d be jealous too.’

  She smiled at him. ‘Thank you.’

  All humour left her face as she re-entered the lounge, her eyes going straight to Rafe as he stood by the drinks cabinet, a fresh drink in his hand. ‘How many of those have you had?’ she asked coldly.

  ‘Not enough,’ he growled, throwing the amber liquid to the back of his throat before filling up the glass again.

  ‘I think you’ve had more than enough!’ Her voice shook with anger. ‘Coming in here throwing accusations at people! Carl’s visit here was perfectly innocent, which is more than could be said for the way you spent your evening.’

  ‘And how would that be?’

  ‘At Janine Clarke’s. In her bed, for all I know.’

  ‘You could be right,’ he said calmly.

  ‘I know I am.’

  ‘Maybe it was a way of saying goodbye. I expect to be much too busy in future in my own bed with my wife to have the time to visit other women.’

  She coloured at his taunting tone. ‘I’m going to bed,’ she said curtly. ‘Goodnight.’

  ‘Enjoy your last few nights alone,’ he mocked softly. ‘Because as from Saturday I mean to occupy all your nights.’

  Hazel fumed all the way up to her bedroom. Rafe had a nasty shock coming to him on Saturday night, and she was going to enjoy watching him squirm. Oh yes, she would enjoy that enormously.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE wedding seemed to have attracted all the local people, the hastily invited guests in no way matching the amount of people actually at the church. All the arrangements had been made with relative ease by Rafe, even to the extreme of ordering Hazel’s wedding gown.

  It was a truly beautiful gown, the white lace bodice finishing just below the bust to flow out in a cloud of white chiffon. The neckline was low, revealing the dark curve of her breasts, a choker of pearls on lace to alleviate the bareness of her throat. The veil was a mass of beautiful trailing lace, all held together by a band of pearls.

  She hadn’t been able to hide her surprise when the dressmaker had arrived with the gown on Thursday for a fitting, refusing at first to even consider that it was meant for her. But the woman had assured her the gown definitely was for her, and Hazel had been convinced when told that the purchaser was Rafe.

  She perversely hadn’t mentioned the arrival of the gown to him, in fact she didn’t mention the wedding to him at all, leaving all the arrangements to be made by him. Not that he seemed any more keen to talk about it, merely informing her of the time they were to be married and not expanding on this at all.

  Since the night he had been so rude to Carl Logan the two of them had spoken little. Rafe was either at work or out, and when he was at home Hazel was much too proud to seek him out.

  But today they had been married, with the local vicar beaming down on them and the many friends present to wish them well. The Marston family were about as close as Hazel came to having any family there, Rafe having no relations there at all. Celia had been noticeable by her absence, although that was probably a blessing; things were strained enough between Rafe and herself already without any more bitchiness on his sister’s part.

  By the time they returned home Hazel was absolutely exhausted from having to smile so much. Lunch had been provided for them and about twenty guests at one of the local hotels and she had been very concious of the searching curious looks of the people about them.

  But now all that was over and they had arrived back in the house. Rafe had instantly disappeared into his study, leaving Hazel no other choice but to go to her room and change. But she had a surprise waiting for her when she got there, for none o
f her clothes were anywhere to be found.

  Her mouth set in an angry line, she marched into Rafe’s bedroom to find all her clothing in his wardrobe and set of drawers. This only incensed her more and she ran angrily down the stairs to Rafe’s study without bothering to change, walking in without knocking.

  Rafe raised narrowed eyes from the work on his desk, still dressed in the grey trousers of the suit he had worn to get married in but having discarded the matching jacket and dark grey tie. He sat back slowly in his chair to look at her. ‘Yes?’

  His calm manner only increased her anger, if that were possible. ‘All my clothes have been removed,’ she said, her tone attacking.

  He nodded. ‘To my room. I know.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You know? What do you mean, you know?’

  He shrugged. ‘Where else would they be? That’s where you’ll be sleeping from now on,’ he smiled at her, as if sleeping was the last thing she would be doing in his bed.

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Why make a big thing out of it, Hazel? Sara only did what she thought best.’

  ‘On your instructions,’ she pointed out resentfully.

  ‘And if it was?’ he challenged.

  ‘Then it was typical of your arrogance,’ she snapped. ‘Acting in that high-handed manner of yours, ordering my clothes to be moved behind my back! I could have done it myself this evening.’

  ‘But would you have done, that’s the point.’

  ‘I might have.’

  ‘This way there’s no might about it,’ he said in that infuriatingly calm voice of his.

  ‘I don’t like other people interfering with my belongings, even Sara.’

  His blue eyes sharpened. ‘Frightened she might find something she shouldn’t, letters from past lovers perhaps?’

  ‘Certainly not! I—’

  ‘Talking of past lovers,’ Rafe interrupted coldly, ‘you won’t find the brush and comb set among the things removed to my room.’

  ‘I—I won’t?’

  He shook his head. ‘I told Sara to dispose of them.’

  ‘You did what?’ Cold anger flared up within her. ‘You had no right! No right to—’

  Now it was Rafe’s turn to be angry. ‘I had every right!’ He stood up to come round the desk, grasping her shoulders ruthlessly to shake her hard ‘You’re my wife now, Hazel! My wife! And I won’t allow you to have anything that will remind you of the other men in your life.’

  The, burning anger in his eyes frightened her, but she couldn’t escape his grasp. His anger now made her wonder if things would work in her favour tonight when she told him there was to be no physical side to their marriage. She knew he could be brutal and there was always the danger that he would take her anyway, whether she be willing or not.

  ‘You won’t understand, will you, Rafe?’ she said sadly. ‘There haven’t been any other men.’

  He pushed her away from him, returning to his chair behind the desk. ‘But I’ll never know that for sure, will I? No matter how many times you tell me that I’ll never know if it’s the truth, because I was the first man to take you, and I’ll never know whether there’ve been others or not.’

  She came to stand in front of the desk. ‘But if I tell you—’

  His harsh laugh cut her off in mid-sentence. ‘After the way you tricked me into this marriage I wouldn’t believe a word you said.’

  Her shoulders slumped dejectedly. ‘I didn’t trick you.’

  ‘I’d like to know what else you could call it,’ he scorned. ‘For God’s sake go and get that damned dress off!’ he snapped harshly. ‘You make a mockery of everything it stands for!’

  Hazel ripped off the veil and threw it down on the desk in front of him. ‘You chose it, I was just told to wear it!’ she shouted. ‘What would you like me to change into, a low-cut blouse and a skirt with a split up to my thigh? That would be more in keeping with the part you want me to play, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘More in keeping with the part you want to play,’ Rafe answered coldly. ‘And I don’t think that sort of clothing will be necessary.’

  ‘Oh, then perhaps I should put out a transparent nightgown for tonight,’ she said bitchily.

  ‘I shouldn’t bother, you wouldn’t be wearing it for long.’

  She slammed out of the room with an angry toss of her head. Her only consolation was the revenge she had planned for later. She would teach Rafe for treating her like this, teach him that he couldn’t walk all over her and get away with it.

  If Rafe had expected her to be sullen and sulky during dinner he was sadly mistaken as she chatted away to him, a smile constantly curving her mouth. That he was slightly taken aback by her behaviour she had no doubt, and this only made her enjoy herself more.

  Sara beamed at them throughout the meal as she served them, making herself scarce after bringing them in their coffee. Her intention was obvious and Hazel saw Rafe smiling after the housekeeper had left, a mocking unpleasant smile.

  ‘Sara’s a romantic,’ he remarked tauntingly. ‘She’s treating our marriage like the romance of the century.’

  ‘Perhaps it is, to her.’ The smile remained on her face as she refused to be daunted by his sarcasm.

  He shrugged. ‘As long as she’s happy.’

  ‘And aren’t you? Just think, Rafe, you’ll have a woman in your bed every night,’ and that was all he would have, if he did but know it!

  He looked unimpressed. ‘But not exactly the woman of my choice.’

  ‘Never mind, Rafe,’ she said happily, refusing to be drawn by his hurtful attitude. ‘I’ll try to make it up to you.’

  ‘You’d better,’ he replied shortly.

  Hazel stood up. ‘Oh well, I’ll see you later, shall I?’

  He looked surprised. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To bed.’

  Rafe’s mouth twisted. ‘Rather eager, aren’t you?’

  She was, but not for the reason he was implying. ‘Just tired, Rafe. It’s been a busy four days.’

  ‘Sara will think you can’t wait to get back into bed with me,’ he mocked.

  ‘Then Sara would be wrong,’ she answered sharply. ‘I’m tired, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t mind, it does wonders for my ego.’

  ‘Your ego is big enough already. Goodnight, Rafe.’

  ‘Oh, surely not goodnight, I’ll be upstairs myself in half an hour or so. I still have some work to do.’

  Him and his damned work! ‘Don’t rush on my account,’ she told him tartly.

  ‘I won’t. But if you’ve fallen asleep when I get there I’ll wake you up. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on your wedding night.’

  ‘Oh, I won’t fall asleep, I’m looking forward to it.’ And she was; she was looking forward to seeing his reaction to her refusal to be his wife in anything more than name.

  His eyes darkened as they travelled slowly over her body. ‘I’ll try to make sure you aren’t disappointed.’

  ‘I’m sure I won’t be.’

  It felt strange to be going to Rafe’s bedroom, to know that she had a perfect right to use his bathroom to shower, and to know that she could be in his huge double bed without fear of shocking anyone. If only Rafe knew she was going to make this large infinitely comfortable bed into his own private hell!

  She might have been being sarcastic earlier on about the transparent nightgown, but she had in fact bought herself a new nightgown, a white silk floaty creation that clearly defined her curves before swinging down to her ankles. It had thin ribbon shoulder straps and dipped low over her breasts. Let Rafe try and resist her in this!

  She waited in the bed for him, hardly able to control her anticipation, flicking through a magazine that wasn’t holding her attention at all.

  But it was over two hours later when she heard Rafe’s firm even tread on the stairs, a long two hours when she wondered if he was ever going to come to bed. Her heart leapt as she heard him approaching the bedroom door and she hurriedly put the m
agazine down and sat primly up against the pillows.

  Rafe gave her a hard look as he came in, and moved silently into the bathroom. Hazel could hear the shower being run and ten minutes later Rafe came back into the room, clothed only in a white towelling robe. In the golden glow of the two side-lamps he looked like a Greek god, the scar on his face only succeeding in making him look more intriguing.

  He looked at her again, as if unsure of her mood. ‘I didn’t mean to be as late as this,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’m surprised you’re still awake.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ she answered carelessly, slowly throwing back the bedclothes to get out of bed. ‘I’m just going to the bathroom, I won’t be a moment.’

  She wanted to give him the full benefit of her body which could be seen through the silky material. She knew he was watching her with brooding eyes as she went into the bathroom, deliberately leaving the bathroom door open so that the bright light emphasised her body. She meant to make sure Rafe was fully aroused by her before they even got into bed.

  She came back into the bedroom, stretching as if tired but making sure Rafe saw the way her body curved invitingly. ‘Oh dear, I think I’m more exhausted than I thought I was.’

  ‘Not too exhausted, I hope,’ he remarked softly, moving up behind her to pull her back against the lean length of his body, his hands resting possessively on her hips. ‘The night is only just beginning,’ he murmured, his lips against her throat.

  She turned into his arms, her face raised for his kiss. ‘I know that, Rafe,’ she said throatily. ‘Oh yes, I know that.’ And for him it was going to be a long frustrating one!

  He raised his head to look at her. ‘I hope you’re going to make it a memorable one.’

  ‘I don’t think it will be one you’ll forget in a hurry.’

  ‘I hope not.’

  His mouth descended on hers, gently moving her lips apart with a tender passion that surprised her. She responded freely, loving this closeness to him after days of his contempt.

  His hands moved caressingly over her back and down to her hips, holding her firmly against his hardened thighs. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this,’ he groaned, slipping the thin straps from one of her shoulders to plunder the hollows of her throat, touching each sensitive area with knowing familiarity.