by Anne Mather
Rachel blinked. She remembered what Mrs Armstrong had said about Terry Marshall, and how Betsy hadn’t been welcome at Clere Heights afterwards. She could guess why now. And all she could feel was an enormous weight of depression, for the years she had been so unyielding.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ she said now. ‘I’d like to thank you, only I fear that would only seem heartless.’ She paused. ‘I—I’m sorry about your daughter, Mr Morrison, truly I am. But I’m so glad you told me.’
* * *
Jaime was waiting for her when she got back to the flat, dressed, and rather inexpertly shaved with her razor, and pacing somewhat anxiously about the floor.
‘Where were you?’ he exclaimed, as soon as she came in. ‘I phoned the office half an hour ago and they said you’d left at a quarter to twelve!’
Rachel moistened her lips. ‘I did. As—as a matter of fact, Jack Morrison rang.’
‘Jack?’ Jaime’s brows descended. ‘Why? What did he want? I didn’t know you were in contact with him.’
‘I’m not. I wasn’t. That is—I spoke to him yesterday, when I rang London Westward to ask about you.’ Rachel sighed, as she saw his perplexity. ‘Oh, darling, sit down, and I’ll explain. I’ve got nothing to hide.’
Jaime remained standing, and with a little gesture, so did she. ‘Yesterday,’ she said, ‘when I rang to ask when you were due back from New York, you’d been with Jack Morrison.’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, they put me through there. They thought you might still be there. But you weren’t. I didn’t get to speak to you until later.’
Jaime frowned. ‘Go on.’
Rachel linked her fingers together. ‘He tried to tell me about Betsy.’
‘I see,’ Jaime nodded.
‘I wouldn’t let him,’ Rachel went on. ‘I—oh, I was so rude to him. I couldn’t believe that he could have—condoned our relationship, not when Betsy was his daughter. I asked him not to tell you I’d rung, and that was all.’
Jaime’s eyes narrowed. ‘And today?’
Rachel bent her head. ‘He rang me. He said he was—concerned about me, about the way I’d reacted. I told him that your mother was dead, and that you’d come to the flat, and that we were going to be married, but he insisted I should know about—Betsy.’
‘And?’
‘I met him. And he told me,’ she said simply, looking at him. ‘And—and I’m sorry I wouldn’t listen to you—before.’
Jaime’s mouth compressed. ‘It makes a difference?’
‘Of course it makes a difference.’ Rachel spoke urgently. ‘How could you think it wouldn’t?’
Jaime shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’ He massaged his temples with his thumb and forefinger. ‘So—have you changed your mind?’
‘Changed my mind?’ Rachel looked puzzled now. ‘Well, of course I’ve changed my mind. I—I was a fool. I should have listened to you.’
Jaime nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, you should have done that.’ He moved towards the door. ‘I’ve got to go. I must go to the apartment and pick up some clean clothes, then get out to the airport—’
Rachel moistened her lips, aghast. ‘And—and me?’ ‘I guess you have to get back to work, don’t you?’ he said tautly. ‘Your time isn’t your own. I er—I’ll let you know when the funeral’s to be. Perhaps you’d like to come to—’
‘Jaime! Jaime, for God’s sake, what are you talking about?’
Now it was Rachel’s turn to reach for him desperately, clutching his sleeve, gazing up at him in pained bewilderment.
‘I have to go,’ he repeated dully, but she wouldn’t let him, hanging on to him defiantly, refusing to believe what she was hearing.
‘Jaime!’ she cried. ‘Are you angry with me? Do you think I was wrong to listen to what Jack Morrison had to say? He only did it for you, you know. He knew you would never tell me—everything. But he did. He did! And oh, Jaime, I can’t begin to ask your forgiveness for doubting you so!’
Jaime’s lips parted. ‘You said you’d changed your mind, that this had made a difference.’
‘Well, of course I did, and it does! But only because it made me see things as they really were, not as I believed them to be.’
Jaime grasped her shoulders, bracing himself against the door frame behind him. ‘You mean—you mean you still want us to be together?’
‘Do I?’ she breathed, the moistness of tears pricking at her eyelids. ‘Jaime, if you leave me now, I don’t know what I’ll do!’
‘Rachel—’ Without another word, he pulled her close, silencing her lips with his. Their kiss was intense, passionate, a reflection of the emotions they had both been suppressing. The lean hunger of his body could not be disguised, and Rachel was breathless when he finally leant his forehead against hers.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and when she started to protest, it was he now who laid a silencing finger across her lips. ‘I mean—I’ve been a fool,’ he added. ‘I thought—oh, I don’t know what I thought. When you didn’t come back after the receptionist said you’d left the building, I could only think the worst. And then when you told me Jack had spoken to you, I finally convinced myself that you’d had second thoughts.’
‘Jaime—’
‘I know. It was crazy, after this morning, but I’m not in a very confident state at the moment, and I guess I wanted to believe the worst.’
‘I love you,’ she whispered, pressing herself closer. ‘Do you really have to go to the apartment?’
‘Yes. But you can come with me,’ he said huskily. ‘Right now, I think you should have something to eat. You look very pale.’
‘So do you,’ she retorted tremulously. ‘Oh, Jaime, what a day this has been!’
‘But at least you know the truth now.’
She nodded. ‘I’m sorry. Sorry about Betsy, I mean.’
Jaime sighed. ‘It wasn’t really her fault. She started taking drugs when she was at school, and the outcome was—inevitable.’
‘He’s a nice man, Jack Morrison.’
‘Very nice,’ Jaime agreed. ‘Too nice, as far as Betsy was concerned. She could always twist him round her little finger.’
Rachel’s lips quivered. ‘Tell me you love me. Make me feel it. Really feel it, I mean.’
‘I love you,’ he assured her softly. ‘And I’ll spend my life proving it.’
The funeral was a solemn affair, and after it was over Robert accompanied Jaime and Rachel back to London. He was going to stay with friends in Hampshire for a while, and to be on hand when Rachel and Jaime got married in a month’s time.
At the apartment, Rachel sank down wearily on to the soft leather couch and accepted the drink Jaime offered her with gratitude.
‘It’s been a long day,’ she said, as he stretched his length beside her, and he slipped his arm around her, so that she curled contentedly against his chest.
‘It’s good to be home,’ he said, resting his chin on top of her head. ‘Just having you here makes everything that much simpler.’
Rachel smiled. ‘Simpler?’
‘Better, then,’ he amended. ‘Brighter, warmer, more satisfying.’
Rachel nestled closer, loosening the buttons of his shirt and nuzzling her face against his chest. ‘You smell nice,’ she murmured, her tongue teasing his body hair, and he put down his drink to gather her closer.
‘By the way,’ he said, after he had possessed himself of her mouth, ‘I have something for you.’ He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a scrap of velvet. ‘This is something I intended to give you more than two years ago.’
Rachel’s pulses raced as the ruby ring dropped into his palm. It was the ring she had thought had been Betsy’s, and her heart leapt as she realised he had intended it to be their engagement ring.
‘Will you wear it now?’ he asked, without making any attempt to put it on her finger, and with a little gulp she nodded. With great tenderness he slid it on to her finger, and then bent his head and caressed i
ts resting place with ever-increasing ardour.
‘So—my mother had her way,’ he said gruffly, and Rachel pressed her cheek against his.
‘I think it was what she wanted,’ she breathed, and he drew her back to look into her face.
‘I know it was,’ he said quietly. ‘There was no real reason to involve you in what was essentially a family matter. But she saw an opportunity to throw us together, and her plan worked. However misguidedly.’ Rachel stroked his face. ‘She knew about Betsy, didn’t she?’
‘Yes.’
‘She never told me.’
‘I asked her not to.’
‘Why?’
Jaime sighed. ‘I don’t know. It seemed my problem, my affair. It was something we had to resolve ourselves.’
‘And we did.’
‘Yes, we did,’ he agreed huskily. Then: ‘By the way, did you mean what you said about being a career woman? I seem to remember you making some assertion about it being better to share one’s wife with her work than with another man.’ He gave her a wry look. ‘Because I should tell you, I don’t think they have television stations in the South Pacific.’
Rachel’s lips curved. ‘I suppose it rather depends on the man one marries,’ she said, her tongue appearing provocatively. ‘Besides, I didn’t say I was a career woman, did I? I was speaking—objectively.’
‘Well, I’m speaking personally now,’ he assured her dryly, ‘and I have to say I’m very pleased to hear it.’ He yawned, covering his mouth with an apologetic hand. ‘Let’s go to bed.’
‘I’m staying here?’ Rachel probed teasingly.
‘Where else?’ Jaime asserted possessively, and she knew there were no more barriers between them.
ISBN-13: 9781460347423
A HAUNTING COMPULSION
© 2014 Anne Mather
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