‘No,’ she denied breathlessly. Her shimmering green eyes pleaded with him to understand. ‘I haven’t changed my mind. But it’s the timing. After the weekend, I’ll move in with you, I promise.’ Her voice quivered. She was clinging onto her principles here; she did have a few of them left. And she was nervous; she couldn’t help that. Living openly with her lover was a big step for a woman of hitherto impeccable principles to take.
But there was another principle involved too, she comforted herself. The principle of being true to the man you loved. And she did love Luca. More than life.
There was ice in his eyes now and she hated it. It shrivelled her. She began to scramble hurriedly into her clothes. He thought she was suffering an attack of the jitters and he didn’t like it. But when she explained, properly, he would have to understand.
‘Procrastinating, Bess?’ he asked coldly, dragging on his shirt. ‘Why put off what we both know is inevitable?’
‘I am not!’ she countered, tucking her stockings into her bag and pushing her bare feet into her shoes. ‘But I can’t move in with you until I’ve seen Tom and told him I can’t many him. It would be awful for him if he heard about us before I’d seen him. Try to understand.’
He stood up, towering over her, looking lean and dangerous. His eyes slid to her naked ring finger. ‘You’ve had plenty of time to tell him. So why haven’t you?’ His eyes lifted to hers, full of dark suspicion. ‘Hedging your bets, is that it? He’ll marry you, I won’t. Is that the problem? Is that why you haven’t been able to bring yourself to tell him? Do you need time to work out which one of us would make the better bargain?
‘Answer me, Bess,’ he commanded, his voice rough-edged. ‘Do a wedding ring and a piece of paper mean so much? Mean more to you than what we have? Such trappings can be totally meaningless, as I learned to my cost.’
‘It’s nothing like that,’ she whispered miserably, hanging her head. The weight of his suspicious attack was bowing her down. ‘I don’t want to fight you over this, so please try to understand. I have to tell him face to face, not over the phone.’
‘Right!’ he said grimly. He glanced frowningly at his watch. ‘I’ll drive you down now. You can see him—ten him—tonight. We should be back here well before midnight.’
He was already stalking back into the house, collecting the jacket and tie he’d discarded much earlier, and Bess pattered after him, appalled.
She loved him to pieces—so much more, she was sure, than he would ever be able to love her—but he wasn’t going to take charge of her life. People had been doing that from the day of her birth. She was determined to make her own decisions now.
‘No, Luca.’ She faced him, her small hands planted on her slender hips. ‘I’ll drive myself down on Sunday morning. I’ll handle this my way or not at all,’ she warned, hating to fight with him but knowing she must.
And she flinched, her face paling, as he asked coldly, ‘Is that an ultimatum, Bess? Or blackmail? I don’t accept either.’
‘It’s simply a fact.’ She wasn’t going to meekly back down now, no matter how much he meant to her. The issue was too important. It would set the tone for their future relationship. That was, if he still wanted one. The way he was looking at her now suggested it was the last thing on his mind.
She was taking a huge risk, she knew, but despite her inner turmoil her voice was calm as she told him, ‘I’ve made up my mind. It doesn’t only affect the two of us, Luca. There are other people to consider. Because after I’ve seen Tom I’ll have to break the news to my parents. Tom’s father is Dad’s partner, after all. The two families are close. And it’s too late tonight to do both. Surely you can see that? I need to try to minimise any bad feeling.’
Green eyes met the cold ice of his and something died inside her when he nodded abruptly, his face grim, his voice painfully polite, very cold as he said, ‘As you wish. If you’re ready I’ll drive you home.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LUCA was still sulking, Bess thought wretchedly as she took the lane out of Braylington that would eventually bring her to the Old Rectory. At least she devoutly hoped that his silence was nothing more than a fit of male pique. She’d heard nothing from him since she’d refused to let him drive her down here the other evening.
Once or twice on the silent journey back to the flat she’d been tempted to capitulate, to tell him, Go ahead, then; have it your way. I’ll see Tom this evening if that’s what it takes to get you talking to me again. But something had held her back and she was sure she’d done the right thing.
Instead she’d again tried to make him see it her way, telling him, ‘If I moved in with you before I’d spoken to Tom face to face, my parents would be appalled. Particularly Mum. As it is she’ll call it living in sin, go all dramatic about it and tell me I’m a fallen woman—all that sort of stuff.’
She’d tried to keep it light but he hadn’t responded in the way she’d hoped, simply stating coldly, ‘And you couldn’t live with that. Despite everything, their good opinion is the only thing that matters.’
‘That’s not exactly fair, is it?’ she’d replied heatedly, wishing the journey were over yet contrarily wishing it would last for ages, giving her time to talk him round. She couldn’t bear to say goodnight before this argument was resolved.
‘Life’s not fair,’ he’d clipped back.
She’d gritted her teeth, counted to ten, then denied, more or less calmly, ‘You’re wrong; their opinion isn’t the most important thing. But it does matter to me. Why lose it if I don’t have to? I’ve always been what you could call a model daughter—tried to please, kept myself in the background, never done anything unexpected or caused them a moment’s anxiety.’ She’d flicked him a sideways look but his face was still grim, set that way, she’d guessed, because he simply wasn’t used to not having his own way.
She was, she’d decided, on a hiding to nothing here, but had plodded on. ‘They’re both fond of Tom and saw our engagement as ideally sensible. When they learn I’ve given him his ring back and intend moving in with you, they’ll—’
‘Leave it, will you?’ He’d cut her short, his hands gripping the steering wheel as if he’d have liked to rip it from its moorings. ‘I understand perfectly. OK? So let’s forget it, shall we?’
He really hadn’t wanted to hear any more, she thought now, had been unwilling to listen to how she intended to do everything properly—break the news to Tom first and then to her parents, letting it sink in before explaining that she’d fallen in love with Luca and would be moving in with him.
She wasn’t looking forward to it.
In fact she was feeling physically sick as the car tyres crunched to a gentle halt on the gravel drive. The house looked peaceful in the warm morning sunshine but she was about to break that serenity. She cut the engine and sat for a moment listening to the silence, wondering if Luca would ever forgive her for refusing to give into his demands, wondering if she would be moving in with him after all, or whether he would tell her to forget it.
Her parents didn’t know to expect her. She had telephoned twice, both times getting no answer, and had given up trying. They would be shocked by what they would regard as her bad behaviour, so turning up unexpectedly wouldn’t be a big drama.
With a surge of sudden anguish she wished that Luca were there. She needed his support in this. The wanting made her feel ravaged. He’d offered his support, of course, under his own terms, but she’d refused it and must take the punishment.
She sighed heavily. She had to do this on her own.
Just then Helen walked out of the open front door and Bess watched her for a moment through the windscreen.
Wearing a creamy cotton sundress, her golden hair hanging loose down her back, she looked as wonderful as ever, the simple full-skirted style of the dress and the artless hairstyle making her look softer.
How would she feel when she learned that she and Luca were living together? Helen and Luca had recently—and, she suspec
ted, briefly—been lovers. It wasn’t something Bess liked thinking of, but she had to be adult about this.
Would Helen feel personally rejected? Bess truly hoped not. Or would she simply shrug it off as one of those things because, in her world, the rich and the famous were not known for their staying power when it came to love affairs?
Bess shivered bleakly. Would the strength of her love be enough to keep Luca with her? Or had he already written her off?
Her courage almost deserted her but she knew that whatever happened between her and Luca Vaccari she couldn’t marry Tom. Besides, Helen had recognised her car by now and was slowly, reluctantly almost, walking in her direction.
She got out of the car and stared into her sister’s face. Helen had never taken much notice of her so she was prepared for one of her usual dismissive looks. But the expression on those lovely features revealed something that looked remarkably like alarm, and her breathless, ‘We didn’t expect you this weekend,’ did little to explain it away.
‘I know Mum likes to be informed of visits—even from one of her own daughters—and preferably in writing,’ Bess said drily. ‘It was an impulse.’ She couldn’t explain why she was really here. Tom would hate to think that his arch-enemy had known about her decision before he had.
Helen shot her a wary, puzzled glance.
‘You look different.’ Her eyes raked over the slimly cut white jeans and loose cinnamon-coloured silk top Bess had chosen to wear for the drive down. ‘I expect it’s because your hair’s not scraped back. At least you’re not still wearing scarlet. You shouldn’t, not with your colouring.’
She shrugged, as if the subject bored her. ‘Listen, you’ve wasted your journey. Dad’s playing golf and Ma’s at the garden centre with Barbara Clayton. They’ll probably go somewhere for lunch. And I’m tied up. I was on my way to the study when I thought I heard a car.’ She swung round to face the house again, as if she couldn’t wait to get away. ‘I suppose Ma told you all about my business venture? It was supposed to be kept a secret until it was ready to go, but she can’t keep her mouth shut for five minutes.’
It was Luca who’d explained about the wedding boutique but Bess wasn’t going to go into that right now. Her mother’s integrity would have to be reinforced later, after she’d got the worst part of the day over. So she explained firmly, ‘It’s Tom I’ve really come to see,’ and watched Helen’s slim shoulders go rigid.
‘Does he know?’ She sounded as if someone was trying to strangle her.
‘No. I’ll drive over to the Clayton place when I’ve snatched a coffee.’
‘I—No, don’t.’ Helen’s face was strangely flushed. ‘What I mean is, I think he’s working. I know he’s got a lot on right now, so he’s probably at the office. If you like I’ll phone through and find out, save you a wasted trip. Why don’t we—?’ But whatever she’d been about to suggest was lost as the throaty roar of an engine slashed through the sunny rural silence.
Luca! Bess’s heart made a series of crazy somersaults as she watched him leave the vehicle he’d parked rakishly next to her own modest runabout. But then it slowed down to a dull, heavy beat as Helen floated towards him, her arms outstretched.
‘Luke—darling! How lovely to see you! Oh!’ She put her hands on his shoulders and reached up to plant a lingering kiss on his mouth. A very receptive mouth, Bess noted with sinking dismay as Luca’s arms went around the gorgeous body and Helen tipped her head to gaze into his lazily smiling eyes. ‘But you’ve been so naughty!’ the ex-model chided. ‘I’ve been expecting to hear from you every day since we parted in Italy. I’ve got something terribly important to discuss with you. But that can’t come as a surprise, can it?’
Bess felt ill with jealousy. Helen obviously still thought of him as her property. They’d been lovers not so long ago. Her stomach kicked with pain. With the lovely ex-model so obviously still keen, would Luca choose to return to her?
Helen knew the score; she wouldn’t bother him with principles. There was, Bess thought sickly, no competition. Helen was cooing, ‘I tried phoning you a thousand times but was told you were incommunicado—even to me! What have you been up to?’
He chose not to answer that. ‘Making love to your little sister’ wouldn’t have gone down too well, Bess supposed. His head lifted and he stared at Bess over the gold of Helen’s hair. The silvery eyes were cold and hard and she knew he was still bitterly angry with her for refusing to do exactly as she was told.
A look that told her it was all over between them? Was that it? Or was he still simply punishing her?
She must have made a sound of distress because Helen turned abruptly, her face pale now, her voice brittle as she said too brightly, ‘She’s on her way to see Tom. But we think he’s working. I’ll phone through for her. He might be at home. We don’t want her to have a wasted journey back into town. Stay and talk to her, darling. When she goes we’ll get together. I’ve got so much to talk to you about. Important stuff.’
She was off, almost at a run, in a flurry of creamy cotton skirts, and Bess thought dully that she needn’t have gone to the trouble—very uncharacteristic in any case—because the way things looked she could spend the rest of the day tracking Tom down. She wouldn’t have anything else to do.
He made no move to come to her. Slowly, Bess made her way over the gravel to him.
‘Why are you here?’ she asked unsteadily. After the silence of the last few days, considering the way he was looking at her now, with no pleasure at all, and vividly recalling the fond expression on his face when Helen had hurled herself at him, it was stupid to hope he’d come along to lend his support when she told her parents she’d ended her engagement to Tom.
Even so, the flicker of hope refused to die, so when he informed her coldly, ‘To protect my investment, what else?’ she could have died of the pain he inflicted.
His company had given Helen’s business idea the financial backing needed to get it off the ground, of course. But did bankers normally make unexpected visits to very minor clients on lazy Sunday mornings? She didn’t think so.
There had to be a whole lot more behind his visit than that. Helen, it was obvious, would be only too happy to resume their past intimate relationship.
Sick with misery, she turned as her sister came out of the house.
‘I checked for you. He is working. So off you go! You needn’t hang around here for that coffee. Tom will give you some.’ She was acting as if she couldn’t wait to get rid of her. Her eyes were feverishly bright and she seemed wound up to the point of explosion—due, Bess decided, to the way her former lover had turned up, under the pretext of a business meeting...
Mutely, Bess turned to Luca, but he said nothing, his eyes dark, enigmatic, boring remorselessly into hers—as if he couldn’t wait to see the back of her either and was willing her to go. And before he could see the sudden anguished tears in her eyes she went to her car and started the engine, driving away from Luca’s cold eyes, Helen’s vibrant loveliness, away from the swirling undercurrents, the atmosphere that was alive with terrible tension.
But maybe she was being paranoid, Bess thought edgily as she drove back into the sleepy Sunday morning market town. Luca wasn’t the type of man to play one sister off against the other, pick a woman up and drop her because she refused to do what he wanted her to do? Was he?
No, she could never have fallen so deeply in love with that type of man; surely some sixth sense would have warned her, told her he wasn’t to be trusted.
And yet, seeing him this morning, she hadn’t found a trace of the man she loved. The lover, the dear companion, seemed to have vanished, leaving just a hard-edged stranger.
Realising she’d driven past the Clayton and Ryland offices, she gave an exasperated growl at her own wool-gathering and reversed with more speed than neatness into a parking space, only to find Tom’s sedate saloon pulling in beside her.
He looked red in the face, she noted as she locked her car door. As if he’d be
en doing something in an almighty hurry, or was deeply embarrassed—which couldn’t be the case. And the sight of him fumbling with the controls, getting out of the vehicle so awkwardly, his movements jerky, did something to ease her own nervousness temporarily out of the way.
Overwork, she decided sympathetically.
‘Helen told me you were already hard at it in the office.’
‘Yes. Well. I had to dash out for—something.’ He fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. ‘Did she say anything else?’
About what? she wondered. Helen had told her everyone was out, tied up, too busy to spend time with her, implying that she might as well go back to where she had come from. Nothing else. She shook her head. ,
‘Then you’d better come in,’ he said heavily, fishing the doorkeys from his pocket. And she followed him, having to force herself because the trepidation was back again in barrow-loads.
She was going to hurt him and she hated the thought. True, he wasn’t passionately in love with her, just as, so she had discovered, she wasn’t in love with him. But he saw her as a suitable life partner and he didn’t like his carefully laid plans altered by so much as an inch. She heaved a great sigh.
Hearing it, he looked at her worriedly. ‘Take a pew and mind how you go.’
A necessary warning because, as always the floor space was covered with piles of dry-looking, dogeared legal documents. She picked her way through them carefully, and when she got herself seated he was already standing on the other side of the enormous desk.
He looked as if he was at a funeral, she decided, and put the miserable, hangdog expression down to his hating to be interrupted while he was trying to work. She would say what she had to say and leave.
Her fingers stiff and lifeless, she dug in her handbag and produced his ring. Placing it carefully on his desk, she said quietly, ‘Tom—I can’t marry you. I’m sorry about this, truly.’ She paused awkwardly, waiting for an explosion from him, and when it didn’t come said quickly, ‘We’ve always been friends, you and I, and that friendship’s always meant a lot to me. We both thought marriage was the next natural step, but we were wrong.
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