by Anne Mather
That was when she’d eased herself out of his arms and done what she should have done half an hour before. ‘You don’t have to thank me,’ she had said stiffly, moving to the sink and tipping the remains of her coffee down the drain. And then, ‘I—would you mind if I went home and took a shower? I—feel—well, dirty.’
It wasn’t the kindest choice of words, she’d known that instantly. Still, she hadn’t been too worried about sparing his feelings after the way he’d behaved. She couldn’t believe he’d actually said he loved her. For heaven’s sake, what did he think? That she’d be flattered? That she’d believe him? Her breath caught in her throat. He didn’t love her any more than she liked the image of herself as his mistress.
After what had happened when she was a teenager, she’d always sworn she would never get herself into a situation like this again. She loved her daughter dearly, and she wouldn’t be without her, but she wanted no more unplanned pregnancies. One mistake, taking into account her age, could be forgiven. But she was too old now not to appreciate the dangers of unprotected sex, however justified the cause. Too old to withstand the stigma of knowing the whole village was gossiping about her, as they would if it happened again.
She’d known Matt had been taken aback by her response, but she couldn’t help it. She might have behaved recklessly by having sex with him, but she wanted him to understand that she didn’t need his guilty confession.
Consequently, when he’d said, ‘If that’s what you want,’ she’d ignored his obvious confusion and taken him at his word. Whether he’d expected her to go back later she had no way of knowing, but she’d decided that giving them both twenty-four hours breathing space was probably the wisest course.
The trouble was, the twenty-four hours were over now—or almost—and she was still no surer of what she wanted to do. Could she go on working for him after what had happened? Would he want her to? And how would she cope with the emotional fallout if he decided it would be simpler for all concerned if they just called it a day?
Downstairs again, Amy was waiting expectantly for her decision and Fliss acknowledged that it might be easier all round if she took the child with her. It would mean that she and Matt would have no chance for any private conversation, and that was all to the good. For her, at least. It would give her another twenty-four hours’ grace, and she found she needed that.
‘Tell Matt I found a website that deals almost exclusively with military dictatorships,’ said her father as Fliss was preparing to leave. ‘I’m sure he’ll be interested.’
Fliss’s lips tightened. ‘I’ll tell him,’ she said, ushering Amy out of the door before she could change her mind about going. ‘Um—see you later.’
It was an overcast morning and Fliss thought that it matched her mood. She was definitely not equipped to deal with Matt in her present state, and she hoped he’d understand why she’d brought Amy with her and back off.
To her surprise, the back door was locked, and, although she knocked a couple of times, no one came to open it. ‘Is Matt still in bed?’ asked Amy innocently, looking up at her mother with wide, enquiring eyes, but Fliss didn’t know what to think.
‘Let’s try the other door,’ she said, not wanting to commit herself, and they circled round to the front of the house, where they found Albert Freeman’s van in the driveway and the front door standing open.
Fliss frowned. She’d known that the painter and decorator had given Matt estimates for the work he wanted done, but she hadn’t realised an appointment to carry out the work had been agreed. Still, it was fairly obvious that it had, and she could only assume that that was why Matt hadn’t opened the back door.
With Amy following close on her heels, she climbed the steps and entered the hall, immediately encountering a workman stripping paper from the walls. ‘Oh, hi,’ she said, when he caught sight of her. ‘Is—is Mr Quinn about?’
‘No,’ began the man, but before he could offer any further explanation, Albert Freeman himself appeared from the back of the house.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said when he saw Fliss, looking a little askance when he saw Amy beside her. ‘Were you just knocking at the back door?’
Fliss warned herself to ignore his overbearing attitude, and said smoothly, ‘I was looking for Mr Quinn. Do you know where he is?’
‘London,’ answered Freeman at once, and Fliss felt her stomach lurch in disbelief.
‘London?’
‘That’s right.’ Freeman was obviously enjoying being the bearer of unexpected news. ‘He asked me to tell you that he won’t need you this week. He’ll be in touch when he gets back.’
Fliss hoped she didn’t look as devastated as she felt. ‘I see,’ she said faintly as Amy tugged impatiently on her arm.
‘Why has Matt gone to London?’ she asked, voicing the question Fliss would have liked to ask herself, and the man gave the little girl a reproving look.
‘That’s none of your business, young lady,’ he said, and Fliss suspected his words were meant for her as well. ‘Now, you’ll excuse me if I get on, won’t you? Mr Quinn will expect me to have finished in the hall by the time he gets back.’
Fliss walked back to the cottage in a daze. She could hardly believe that Matt would take off for London without even having the courtesy to tell her where he was going. But then, after the way she’d behaved yesterday, he’d probably decided she didn’t deserve an explanation.
But that was too simplistic. Matt wasn’t like that. Whatever she’d done, whatever she’d said, she couldn’t accept that he’d treat her so shabbily. Something must have happened, something that had required his immediate attention, and he’d left a message with Albert Freeman so that he could give it to her in person.
Well, that was one way of looking at it, she acknowledged, wondering if she was being simplistic now. He could have phoned her, he could have put a note through the cottage door. Surely he must have realised how she’d feel being ordered about by the tradesman. Albert Freeman had got great pleasure out of telling her she wasn’t needed. Oh, God, what exactly had Matt said?
‘Matt’s gone to London.’
Amy announced the news to her grandfather as soon as she got through the cottage door, and Fliss saw her father’s eyes widen in surprise as he lifted his head from the newspaper.
‘London?’ he echoed, much as she had done. ‘And you didn’t know he was going?’
‘Obviously not,’ said Fliss, realising that if she displayed anything but annoyance at the situation George Taylor would smell a rat. She shrugged. ‘Perhaps it was an emergency.’
‘And he couldn’t ring you to tell you what he was doing?’ Her father gave a disgruntled snort. ‘I told you I didn’t approve of you working for him. The man’s totally thoughtless.’
Fliss forced a smile. ‘I thought you said you’d changed your mind about him. Didn’t you just ask me to tell him about some website before I left?’
‘Huh.’ Her father wasn’t pleased to be reminded. ‘Anyway, I should have known better. Men like him, they don’t change. I bet he’s gone sniffing after that Chesney girl again. Her father was telling me they’d had a bit of a bust-up. Apparently, she was totally opposed to him moving down here. I suppose it was only a matter of time before she persuaded him to change his mind.’
Fliss opened her mouth to tell him that if that was so, why was Albert Freeman decorating the hall and stairs? But she decided not to bother. For all she knew, Matt could be doing the house up to sell it again. Obviously, he didn’t confide in her.
However, it was what her father had said about Diane that troubled her the most. Despite his many statements to the contrary, deep inside she suspected Matt was still in love with the other woman. And now, thanks to Fliss’s actions, he could resume his relationship with Diane, safe in the knowledge that his libido had been completely restored.
That hurt.
Even though she didn’t believe he loved her, the possibility that he might be prepared to forgive Diane her
It was all too much, and, excusing herself, Fliss hurried up the stairs to her room. She wasn’t sorry for what she’d done, she told herself fiercely. Whatever happened, she would never regret being a part of his recovery. She just wished he could have chosen someone more worthy than Diane Chesney to love.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MATT drove back to Mallon’s End in the late afternoon.
He had intended to get away straight after lunch, but Diane’s arrival had delayed him. Her excuse, that she’d come to see his mother, had been convincing enough, but once they were outside the sickroom the real purpose of her visit had become clear.
‘You can’t really mean that you never want to see me again,’ she protested tearfully, following him into his father’s study instead of letting his mother’s housekeeper show her out. ‘All right. So I made a mistake. I’m not ashamed to admit it. But I don’t love Tony. I love you, Matt. You can’t blame me for turning to Tony when I thought I was never going to see you again.’
Matt looked up from the pile of mail that had accumulated during his mother’s stay in hospital. It had only been a few days, but it was amazing how much junk had made its way through her letterbox. ‘I don’t blame you, Diane,’ he said. However, he couldn’t allow her to think that made any difference. ‘I don’t even blame Corbett for taking his chances.’
‘Then—’
‘I don’t love you, Diane. I don’t honestly think I ever did. I was flattered because you sought me out, that’s all. It’s not every day that a man’s propositioned by a beautiful woman.’
Diane stared at him. ‘So what’s changed?’
‘I have,’ he said. ‘It’s as simple as that. I’ve decided I want more out of life than you can give me.’
‘Like what?’
There was an edge to her voice now, and he knew she was having a hard time keeping her temper. ‘Like a home, and children,’ he answered her evenly. ‘And you have to admit that that’s something that’s never interested you.’
‘I could change.’
‘But I don’t want you to change,’ he retorted mildly. ‘Even if you were prepared to give up your life in London and move to Mallon’s End, my answer would still be the same. I’m sorry but that’s the way it is. What was it you said before? That I should move on? Well, I have.’
Diane’s lips tightened. ‘And I don’t suppose your sudden desire to move on has anything to do with your new housekeeper, does it?’ she snapped angrily.
Matt shrugged. ‘Whether it does or not is nothing to do with you.’
‘Your mother will never accept her!’ she exclaimed scornfully. ‘You should have heard her reaction when I told her Fliss had had a baby when she was sixteen. She was positively horrified.’
Matt tensed. ‘Exactly when did you give her that piece of information?’ he demanded. ‘She’s never said anything about it to me.’
‘No, well, I suppose she couldn’t,’ Diane declared carelessly. ‘I spoke to her on Tuesday evening. She rang me the day after she got back from Mallon’s End. She was worried about you and Fliss Taylor. It must have been the next day that she had the stroke.’
Matt was stunned. ‘You spoke to my mother on Tuesday evening?’ he exclaimed savagely. And when she showed her assent, he wanted to choke her. ‘You bitch,’ he said. ‘It didn’t occur to you that whatever you said might have upset her? She had the stroke in the early hours of Wednesday morning, Diane. Just a few hours after you filled her ears with your jealous lies.’
‘They were not lies.’ But Diane was looking a little uneasy now. And typically for her, she tried to turn the blame back on him. ‘I told her the truth, that’s all,’ she said defensively. ‘If you hadn’t wanted her to be upset, you shouldn’t have got involved with someone like Fliss.’
‘Someone like Fliss!’ Matt was furious. ‘You know nothing about Fliss, except what you’ve gleaned from gossip your mother’s spread around. You shouldn’t judge everyone by your own standards, Diane. Just because you’d sleep with any man who’d be fool enough to ask you, don’t ever imagine Fliss would do the same.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Diane was spiteful now. ‘She’s turned you down, too, has she? Is that what all this sniping is about? Well, I could have told you you were wasting your time with frigid Miss Taylor. From what I hear, she must have had a virgin pregnancy.’
Matt was appalled by her comments. Appalled, too, that he could ever have thought she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He had no doubt that if Diane had had her way, the argument would have continued and become even more virulent. But Mrs Powell, his mother’s housekeeper, had heard raised voices and came to warn them that they might be disturbing Mrs Quinn.
Matt had no hesitation then about asking Mrs Powell to show—or throw, if necessary—Miss Chesney out. And after she’d gone, he sat down at his father’s desk and rested his head in his hands. Dear God, he was so tired of making stupid mistakes.
His mother had heard the raised voices, however, and a few minutes later Mrs Powell appeared again and asked if he would go up. Naturally she wanted an explanation, and Matt was relieved that the stroke that had had him driving madly through the early hours of Wednesday morning had apparently had no lasting effects. Her brain was as alert as ever, and, apart from a little residual numbness down her right side, she was expected to make a full recovery.
In consequence, Matt had no hesitation in assuring her that she should ignore anything Diane had said about Fliss. Yes, she had had a baby when she was sixteen, but that didn’t make her a bad person. She’d made a mistake and she’d paid for it. But she was a good mother and she didn’t have a reputation for sleeping around.
‘So she has a child,’ his mother said at last, and Matt found himself talking about Amy.
‘She’s a great kid,’ he said. ‘You’ll love her, Ma, when you get to know her.’
‘I am going to get to know her, then?’ Mrs Quinn ventured drily, and Matt had had to admit that that was in the balance. Until he could see Fliss again, until he could speak to her, he didn’t know what was happening. All he really knew was that he cared about her, deeply; that she’d helped him believe in himself again.
Now, as he neared the junction that would eventually lead to Mallon’s End, Matt wished he could have spoken to Fliss herself. He’d had to leave a note pinned to the door for Albert Freeman. The tradesman had been due to start work the next day and Matt had left a key for him to find. He’d attached a note for him to give to Fliss, but he didn’t know if she’d got it. Both times he’d phoned he’d got her father, and, despite the fact that he’d thought they’d ironed out their differences, George Taylor still gave off hostile vibrations.
Perhaps he should have confided in her father, told him the real reason he’d gone to London, but his experiences with the Press had left him chary of confiding in anyone. He didn’t want to read about his mother’s stroke in the next edition of the tabloids. She definitely wouldn’t like it and he had to respect her privacy. Even if it meant suffering the pangs of anxiety for a few more days…
Fliss was in the front garden when the big Land Cruiser stopped at the gate. It was a warm, sunny evening, and she’d been thinning out some stocks that had become rank and overgrown. She got to her feet in some confusion when Matt pushed his way through the gate.
She hadn’t known if she would see him again. Even though she’d told herself that he wouldn’t waste money doing up the house if he had intended to sell it, the doubts remained. Her father seemed fairly convinced that they’d seen the back of him, but he had been acting antsy lately and she didn’t know what was going on.
‘Hi,’ Matt said, allowing the gate to swing closed behind him. Then, almost awkwardly, ‘You look busy.’
As an opening, it was as good as any, she supposed, tucking damp strands of hair back behind her ears. He could as easily have said hot, she reflected. She was hot, and sweaty, and definitely not prepared for their encounter however much she’d wanted to see him again.
Matt, meanwhile, looked good. No, better than good, she amended unwillingly. And so much better than he’d looked when she’d first seen him talking to Amy. He was dressed more formally than she was used to, his navy silk suit and pale blue shirt accentuating his cool elegance. He’d loosened his tie and the top button of his shirt, but that only added to his appeal. As always, he exuded a raw male sexuality that stirred emotions deep in her belly, and she acknowledged that he had proved far more dangerous to her peace of mind than she could ever have imagined.
Deciding to take her cue from him, Fliss smoothed the hem of the old cropped T-shirt she was wearing, wishing she’d taken Amy’s advice and dumped the thing weeks ago. ‘Um—have you just got back?’
‘Just,’ he agreed, taking off his jacket and hooking it over one shoulder. He waited until her nervous gaze connected with his again before adding, ‘Did you miss me?’
Fliss’s lips parted. ‘I—I wondered how long you’d be gone,’ she conceded carefully. ‘Have—er—have you been to see Diane?’
A strange expression crossed his face. ‘I’ve seen her, yes,’ he said, and Fliss’s stomach twisted into a tight knot of misery. ‘Did you get my messages?’
‘Messages?’ Fliss put the emphasis on the fact that he’d said messages and not message as she’d expected. ‘Mr Freeman told me you’d gone to London, if that’s what you mean.’
‘He told you?’ Matt looked confused now. ‘Didn’t he give you my note?’
‘A note?’ Fliss wondered if she could believe him. ‘No.’
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