Wild Enchantress

by Anne Mather

  Jared glanced at Catherine, but she was looking down at her hands, and he gave a casual shrug. ‘All right,’ he said, as she had known he would. ‘So long as we can get away by two. I have to be at Seawell by two-thirty.'

  ‘The airport?'

  Angela raised her eyebrows, but as Jared said nothing more, she was forced to let it go. Catherine was curious, too, but she guessed Jared was going to the airport to collect some painting equipment. Maybe that was why he had taken this day off from finishing the commission. It was a logical assumption, and it succeeded in destroying her already depleted store of confidence.

  The meal was delicious. Prawns with melon, steaks and salad, and a trifle flavoured with brandy. But Catherine ate next to nothing. She felt choked with emotion, aware, as he obviously was not, of their brief time together slipping away.

  Only once during that long meal did she look up to find Jared staring at her, but when she tried to communicate her feelings to him, he looked away again, and a moment later was laughing heartily at something Angela had said.

  However, when the waiter came to ask them if they had enjoyed the food and to inquire whether they would like coffee, Jared pushed back his chair.

  ‘I think we'll have to skip coffee, if you don't mind, Catherine,’ he said abruptly, and Catherine didn't mind at all. She got obediently to her feet, gesturing Andy to re-remain seated when he would have risen, and walked round the table to join Jared.

  ‘Oh, must you go?’ Angela was evidently disappointed. ‘It's only ten minutes to the hour.'

  ‘I'm sorry.’ Jared was adamant. His hand curved round Catherine's upper arm. ‘We'll see you some other time.'

  ‘At the party!’ exclaimed Angela enthusiastically. ‘My invitation was waiting when I got back. I'm looking forward to it.'

  Catherine and Jared exchanged glances, and then he gave a slight shake of his head as if to indicate a negative reaction. ‘So long!’ he said non-committally, and propelling Catherine before him, walked out of the restaurant.

  But once in the car, his actions bespoke his annoyance. ‘I expect you think I should have told Angela there's not going to be any party, don't you?’ he demanded.

  Catherine shifted her shoulders against the soft warm upholstery. ‘I can't answer that,’ she protested.

  ‘No? Well, I didn't feel like entering into those kind of explanations with her!'

  ‘You don't have to justify yourself to me.'

  ‘Don't I?’ He didn't start the engine, but half turned in his seat towards her, one arm along the back of hers. ‘Don't I? So why were you giving me the cold shoulder all through lunch?'

  ‘I wasn't doing that,’ she cried. ‘Besides, you seemed contented enough talking to your old girl-friend.'

  ‘Angela is not an “old girl-friend”.'

  ‘Well, a young girl-friend, then,’ retorted Catherine tautly.

  ‘Not that either. She's a friend of Laura's. Would you have had me be rude to her?'

  ‘It's nothing to do with me.'

  ‘Damn you, it's everything to do with you,’ he swore violently, and turning, he started the car savagely, releasing the brake, and churning up the drive with spinning tyres.

  Catherine clutched the edge of her seat as they approached the gates, convinced Jared would never negotiate them at this speed. But long before there was any danger, he had slowed, and they turned out on to the coast road again with controlled expertise.

  ‘Jared, why did you ask me out to lunch?’ she asked, helplessly staring at him. ‘I only seem to make you angry.'

  Jared drew a harsh breath. ‘Because,’ he said, his tone containing traces of self-derision, ‘because, fool that I am, I've let you get under my skin. To the extent that I can't seem to think of anything but you!'

  ‘Jared…'

  ‘I can't work, I can't sleep! That's rich, isn't it?’ he demanded, his lips twisting. ‘I guess you could say that was why I resented what you did to me all those years ago. Maybe even then I knew I was fighting a losing battle.'

  ‘Oh, Jared!’ She was incredulous. ‘Jared, I don't know what to say.’ But her pulses were racing, and it was not just the aftermath of her illness that was making the blood thunder in her head.

  ‘You could say—you're not entirely indifferent to me,’ he muttered harshly, and her heart almost stopped beating when his hand slid possessively down her thigh to her knee. She put both her hands over his, and with an uncharacteristic disregard for other drivers, he stood on his brakes and, turning, pulled her into his arms.

  She barely had time to say his name before his mouth covered hers, and the probing intimacy of his touch drove all coherent thought from her head.

  ‘Oh, God!’ he muttered at last, lifting his head to the sound of car horns and hooters, the well-meaning laughter of some road-users, and the not-so-well-meaning impatience of others. ‘I want you all to myself, and instead we're stuck in this public place, providing free entertainment for the masses!'

  Catherine smoothed her hair back behind her ears. ‘Let's go down to the beach,’ she breathed huskily, but with a grim shake of his head, he released the clutch and drove on.

  ‘There's something I have to do first,’ he said flatly.

  ‘What?’ Catherine bent her head. ‘Is—is it Laura? Are we meeting her at the airport?'

  He glanced at her strangely. ‘I wish to God it were,’ he ground out savagely, and she moved her shoulders in bewilderment.

  ‘What is it? Jared, you're not still thinking—'

  ‘I'm trying not to think,’ he told her through clenched teeth. ‘I never thought I could do it, but I realise I'll have to.'

  ‘Have to what?’ She knelt on the seat beside him. ‘Jared—darling, what is it?'

  His eyes darkened at the involuntary endearment, but then they were entering the airport complex and he had to give all his attention to his driving. Catherine swung her legs to the floor again, staring out at the incoming Boeing that was making its final run. No matter what Jared had said, there was an awful feeling of apprehension invading her system, and his determination to get to the airport had assumed the proportions of an obsession. What did he want here? What was it he had to do? And why should she feel so sure it had something to do with her?

  He parked the convertible, and Catherine looked at him doubtfully. ‘Do you want me to stay here?'

  ‘No.’ Jared got out of the car, and walked round to open her door. ‘Come with me.'

  ‘But where are we going?’ she exclaimed, as they crossed to the airport buildings. ‘Jared, what are we doing here?'

  ‘You'll see.’ Jared had become curiously remote, and there was a tautness about his features which had not been there earlier. ‘Come on, it looks like the flight's landed.'

  Catherine was asking: ‘What flight?’ as they entered the reception hall, but Jared strode ahead, looking about him, obviously searching for whoever it was they had come to meet. Catherine followed him slowly. She didn't understand what was going on, and the anxiety inside her was strengthening all the time. Although that was something else she didn't understand either.

  ‘Cat! Cat, old love! Here I am! Turning up again like the veritable bad penny!'

  Catherine swung round. Surely she hadn't mistaken that voice? ‘Tony!’ she gasped, and hearing her involuntary exclamation, Jared turned, too. ‘Tony, for heaven's sake,’ she cried. ‘What are you doing here?'

  Jared was walking back towards them, and Catherine could see how pale he was beneath his tan. ‘You are Tony Bainbridge?’ he said, in a strange uneven voice. Then he looked at Catherine. ‘This is—Tony?'

  ‘Didn't he tell you I was coming, old love?’ Tony looked at her, too, and Catherine, dry-mouthed, shook her head.

  ‘I wanted to—’ Jared broke off, his face so grim it was frightening. ‘I didn't realise that—that you—'

  ‘That I was a cripple?’ asked Tony cheerfully, from the austerity of his wheelchair. ‘Didn't Cat tell you? No, I can see she didn't. Well, I'm
afraid I am. Useless from the waist down, I'm sorry to say.’ He winked in his usual goodhumoured fashion. ‘That's why Manners always goes everywhere with me, don't you, Manners?'

  A tall thin man appeared from behind a rack of magazines and approached them. He was a middle-aged man, balding and bespectacled, but with his employer's sense of humour.

  He smiled at Catherine and nodded at Jared. ‘Good afternoon,’ he remarked. ‘Nice to see you again, Miss Fulton. Wasn't it kind of—of Mr Royal to invite us out here?'

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘I appear to have put my foot in it, don't I, old love? Metaphorically speaking, of course.'

  Tony spoke from the bed, but his words didn't stop Catherine's pacing.

  ‘Why did you come out here, Tony?’ she exclaimed helplessly, spreading her hands. ‘You know you don't like leaving London!'

  ‘That's some line in welcomes,’ observed Tony dryly. ‘I received an invitation. From your lord and master.'

  ‘He's not my lord and master!'

  ‘Isn't he? He acts like he is.'

  ‘Yes—well, what he acts like and what he is, are two entirely different things.'

  ‘You know him that well, huh?'

  ‘I don't know him well at all.'

  Tony shrugged. ‘How was I to know you weren't behind his invitation? Why the hell didn't he tell you?'

  Catherine sighed, and came to stand at the end of the bed, holding the post with both hands. ‘What did he tell you, Tony? What was his reason for asking you out here?'

  Tony grimaced. ‘I forget his exact words. Something about you being—ill? Have you been ill?'

  ‘A little. Just a touch of the sun, that's all.'

  ‘You'll have to watch that.'

  ‘Oh, Tony, what else did he say?'

  ‘It was only a telegram, old love. You can't say a lot in a telegram.'

  ‘So that was all? That I'd been ill?'

  Tony frowned. ‘Well, he made it sound as if you needed me, know what I mean? Though why he should have thought that, I can't imagine.'

  ‘I can.'

  Catherine spoke under her breath, hunching her shoulders, and turning away. She could imagine only too well. Jared was convinced she was expecting a child—Tony's child, he presumed. He had brought Tony out here to face his responsibilities. That was the way things were done here. But now he must know that Tony could not possibly father any child.

  But why had he arranged this secretly? Why hadn't he told her what he was planning? Given her a chance to persuade him he was wasting his time? Why had he behaved today as if he loved her, and then produced the one man she might conceivably be expected to care about? It didn't make sense. Unless…

  She paced restlessly across to the open french doors. They had given Tony rooms on the ground floor of the house, enabling him to come and go in his wheelchair without difficulty. Manners was next door, unpacking their belongings, but he had insisted that Tony should rest for a while before dinner. He didn't approve of Catherine being here, but she felt that if she didn't talk to somebody she would go mad.

  Coming back from the airport, she had travelled in the back of the car with Manners, it being easier for Tony to manoeuvre himself into the front seat. His wheelchair was collapsible, and had fitted without too much difficulty into the spacious boot. But even sitting behind Jared, she had been conscious of his anger. It had been there in the polite, but clipped, conversation, he had held with Tony—in the controlled suppression of his driving—in the stiffened tautness of his shoulders, the grimly-held set of his head. She had wanted to slide her hands over his shoulders, she had wanted to press her face into the dark hair which overlapped his collar at the back, to feel his instant response to the pressure of her body.

  But instead she had to remain in her seat, silent, answering only when Tony deliberately brought her into the conversation.

  When they arrived back at the house, Jared had issued brusque instructions for rooms to be made ready for their guests, and Lily and the other servants had scurried around doing his bidding. It would have been no problem accommodating two people on the first floor, but preparing ground floor rooms had necessitated the removal of certain pieces of furniture, and the installation of others. Tony had been apologetic, endearingly so, Catherine had felt, with a renewal of her affection for him, but Elizabeth, once the initial introductions were over, had proved to be most welcoming. It was no trouble, she had insisted, accommodating any friend of Catherine's, but remembering the other woman's behaviour before she and Jared left that morning, Catherine knew she read the obvious explanation for this situation into Jared's actions. And that brought her back to her own question—why had Jared done it?

  Unless… And this was the painful part, unless, in spite of his professed attraction for her, he intended going ahead with his plans and marrying Laura. Perhaps he had seen this as a sure way of getting her, Catherine, off his back. Maybe he resented the power she appeared to have over him. Certainly it had seemed that way in the past. But today…

  Better forget today, she thought dully. Better forget everything but the fact that Jared was engaged to Laura, and she was committed to helping Tony raise enough money to build his rehabilitation centre.

  ‘What is it, old love?'

  Tony shifted restlessly on the bed, and turning to face him, Catherine felt a pang of guilt at his innocent involvement in all this.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, forcing a smile and determinedly approaching the bed. ‘I'll go and leave you. You get some rest. We can talk later.'

  Tony stretched out a hand and imprisoned one of hers. ‘You're in love with the guy, aren't you?’ he stated quietly. ‘Don't try to deny it. I know you too well.'

  Catherine sighed. ‘Tony, Jared is engaged to be married to a girl called Laura Prentiss. You'll probably meet her this evening. I heard Elizabeth say she was going to invite her for dinner.'

  Tony gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘Since when has an engagement ring prevented one person from being attracted to another? Or a wedding ring, either, for that matter?'

  ‘Tony, please…'

  ‘I think you know why he brought me out here.'

  ‘I don't.’ She could feel the warm colour invading her cheeks. ‘Well, at least—perhaps part of the reason.'

  ‘Which is?'

  ‘I can't tell you, Tony.'

  ‘Why not?'

  She bent her head. ‘It was—stupid!'

  ‘What was stupid?'

  ‘Something I did. Tony, please, don't ask me.'

  ‘But I am asking you.’ He looked up at her steadily. ‘Don't you think that perhaps you owe me that?'

  She heaved a sigh. ‘You won't like it.'

  ‘I'm prepared for the worst.'

  ‘I—’ She pressed her lips tightly together for a moment. ‘I—I let Jared think I—I was pregnant!'

  ‘What?’ Tony dropped her hand to stare at her disbelievingly. ‘You did what? In God's name, what are you talking about?'

  ‘You see?’ She shook her head. ‘I told you you wouldn't like it.'

  ‘I certainly don't, but I want to know why you did it.'

  ‘Tony, Manners said you had to rest—'

  ‘Do you think I could rest with this on my mind?’ Tony gave her an exasperated stare. ‘Come on, sit down.’ He patted the bed beside him. ‘You might as well unburden yourself.'

  ‘Oh, Tony!’ Catherine sank down on to the bed and burst into tears, burying her face in her hands and sobbing as if her heart would break.

  Tony levered himself across the bed to her side, putting his arms around her and drawing her comfortably against his broad chest. ‘It's all right, old love,’ he murmured huskily, stroking her hair. ‘It's all right. Just take it easy. From the beginning…'

  With stumbling incoherence, Catherine eventually poured out the whole story—her schoolgirl crush on the older man who had been a friend of her father's, Jared's attitude on her arrival in Barbados and her reckless submission, her subsequent relat
ionship with him…

  Tony was silent when she had finished, and she lifted her head to look at him anxiously. ‘You're angry with me?'

  Tony shook his head. ‘Impatient, perhaps,’ he conceded. ‘Oh, Catherine! You always were an impulsive little fool! Why didn't you explain why your father had written to Royal? Why did you let him think you lived the life of Riley? God Almighty, Jack Fulton has something to answer for!'

  ‘Don't speak of Daddy like that,’ she protested.

  ‘Well, it's true. Money was his god, but it was never yours. You should have explained what he was afraid you would do.'

  ‘I couldn't.’ Catherine drew away from him, dabbing her eyes with a corner of the coverlet. ‘Anyway, it's all been my fault—'

  ‘Well, I think Royal's behaved like a bastard!'

  ‘Tony!'

  ‘I do. Just imagine if everything had been as he expected—if I had been the kind of man he imagined me to be. You here pregnant, and me in London having a good time. What a nerve bringing me out here to see you! I mean—well, we mightn't have wanted to see one another. He's out of touch. He doesn't realise there are thousands of women nowadays bringing up children without what they consider to be the encumbrance of a husband. You might have been one of those!'

  ‘Well, I'm not,’ Catherine stated flatly, getting up from the bed. ‘And besides, I don't think you appreciate what kind of man Jared is. It's against his principles, I think, to allow a child to be born out of wedlock if he might have been able to do something about it.'

  ‘Oh, honestly?’ Tony looked sceptical. ‘What kind of principles allow him to make love to a woman he thought was pregnant, while his own fiancée is forced to look on? I feel sorry for her—not him. And bringing me out here! It's feudal! Like I said before, I think he's a bastard!'

  And on this unhappy note, Catherine left him. She had to admit—the facts were damning. But the facts were one dimensional, life was not.

  She wondered if Jared might try to speak to her before dinner, but he did not come near. She rested on her bed for a while, and then bathed and changed, taking some time over deciding what to wear. She chose a simple black gown, made of draped jersey, with a halter neckline, that left most of her shoulders and her arms bare.