Two's Company

by Carole Mortimer

  The older woman shook her head. 'I can't remain silent any longer, Juliet. It would be wrong. Too many people have already been hurt. And now you're running away—'

  'Running away?' Liam echoed sharply, looking at Juliet with narrowed eyes. 'What do you mean?' he prompted Janet.

  'Juliet's suitcases are upstairs,' she explained. 'She was about to leave when you arrived home.'

  Liam was still looking at Juliet. 'You were going to leave without even telling me?'

  She moistened dry lips. 'I was going to tell you this evening, but—'

  'But for some reason you changed your mind,' he derided harshly.

  She had changed her mind because she had heard him discussing his affair with someone else! She loved this man, and leaving him was the last thing she wanted to do, but what choice did she have?

  'Yes,' she acknowledged heavily. 'I changed my mind.'

  His mouth tightened angrily. 'You—'

  'Liam, seven years ago, on the night he died, Simon tried to rape Juliet!' Janet burst in agitatedly.

  Juliet felt the colour fade from her cheeks. No one had ever… No one had ever said those words before.

  Simon had tried to rape her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  'Now do you understand?' Janet said impatiently to Liam as she rushed to Juliet's side, helping her to sit back down in the chair.

  'It's all right, Juliet,' she soothed gently, sitting on the arm of the chair to hold her in her arms. 'We should have talked so long ago.' She cradled Juliet in her arms as the tears began to flow. 'William thought it best if I left you to deal with it in your own way. But you haven't dealt with it. How could you, after what Simon did?' Her voice sharpened angrily with an anger directed towards the man who had hurt Juliet in this way.

  What Janet had said had hurt her, had brought back all the memories of that awful night, but what had really hit her so hard was Liam's reaction to it. She had been looking at him when Janet had made her statement, and his initial response had been a look of total disgust! She had no idea what had followed on from that; she hadn't been able to look at him again.

  What was he thinking? That she must have encouraged Simon, led him on, teased him, and then perhaps changed her mind? It hadn't been anything like that!

  She sat back in the chair, closing her eyes, shutting out the other two people in the room, not wanting to look at either of them. If she didn't look at them, they couldn't see into her eyes, into her innermost soul.

  It had been cold and snowy that night seven years ago. She had dined alone with William, the two of them talking about the arrangements for her Christmas wedding to Simon in four weeks' time, Simon having telephoned earlier to say that he had to go to dinner with a business acquaintance. It had never bothered Juliet when Simon called with these last-minute arrangements; she had accepted that he had a business to help run, and that very often that included being sociable with clients.

  She was lying in bed reading when she heard Simon's car in the driveway, and the front door opening a couple of minutes later. She was relieved to hear him return safely, having been worried about him driving on the icy roads, and got up to put on her robe, intending to go down and have a nightcap with him before they retired for the night to their respective bedrooms.

  She had only just picked up her silken robe when her bedroom door was suddenly thrown open. Turning with alarm, she relaxed slightly when she saw that it was Simon standing there, although a frown furrowed her brow when she saw how bedraggled he looked, his blond hair wind-swept, his tie pulled loosely down his chest, his shirt collar unbuttoned, and a red splash of colour down the front of his white shirt.

  'You're hurt!' she said anxiously, crossing the room to his side, reaching out to touch his chest where the mark was. 'Have you been in an accident?' She panicked slightly. 'What—?' She broke off, her concern turning to puzzlement as she realised that the red mark wasn't blood, as she had initially assumed it was.

  'It's lipstick,' Simon supplied tauntingly as he saw her frown.

  Her hand fell away from his chest as she took a step backwards. 'Lipstick?'

  'God, you're an innocent!' he said scornfully as he brushed roughly past her into the room. 'You haven't really believed that I've been to business dinners all those evenings I've been out, have you?' He looked at her pityingly.

  Of course she had believed him; why shouldn't she have done?

  'Poor innocent Juliet.' Simon cupped a hand round the paleness of her cheek, his fingers suddenly tightening painfully against the softness of her skin, the expression on his face suddenly savage, the fumes from the alcohol he had consumed making her feel ill. 'I may be pleasing the old man by marrying you,' he rasped sneeringly, 'but that doesn't mean I don't find the charms of other women infinitely more attractive. Unfortunately I struck out tonight, so you'll have to do!' He pulled her roughly against him, his mouth grinding down against hers.

  Juliet was so stunned by what he was saying that she couldn't think straight. Simon was marrying her to please his father? Other women? God, she didn't—

  'For God's sake, Juliet.' Simon raised his head slightly to scowl down at her. 'It's bad enough that I have to marry you at all; you might at least show a little response and not act like a stick of wood!'

  She could taste the blood in her mouth now; his mouth had come down so savagely on hers that he had split her top lip. And she was filled with such revulsion that she wanted to be sick. She pushed against him, desperately trying to free herself, pounding her fists against his chest.

  His eyes glittered with challenge as he once again looked down at her, his hands tightly gripping her wrists to stop her pummelling. 'So you want to play rough, do you?' he said triumphantly. 'That's OK with me, Juliet; I like a woman with spirit!'

  Juliet glared up at him. 'I hate you!' she told him vehemently. Love had turned to hate in a matter of seconds—cruelly hurtful seconds that threatened to destroy her. She just wanted to get away—from Simon, from the pain he was inflicting.

  'Hate away, Juliet,' Simon grinned. 'I'll probably enjoy it more if you do.'

  What followed was a nightmare, a living nightmare. Her nightgown was ripped from her body, Simon's hands and lips everywhere. Juliet wasn't even aware of her screams until her bedroom door crashed open and a panic stricken William stood in the doorway.

  He took in the scene in seconds—her fear, her dishevelled state, Simon's sneeringly defiant attitude—and he came across to drag the young man from the room, their raised voices now filling the house.

  And then suddenly there was silence.

  And Simon lay dead at the bottom of the stairs…

  Juliet felt as if reliving those terrible moments had taken a lifetime, but in reality she knew that it had just been a rush of images, memories, and that only seconds had actually passed since she had closed her eyes, or maybe a couple of minutes at the most.

  And she couldn't bear to relive those moments again. Not with Janet. And certainly not with Liam.

  She stood up suddenly to rush from the room, ignoring Janet's concerned cry, Liam's shout. She just kept running, running, running.

  And she had kept running—from the house, from the county, from the country.

  To Majorca.

  To the Carlyle hotel and leisure complex. The last place anyone would think to look for her. If anyone wanted to look for her. Which she doubted.

  And for the first time in years, it seemed, she relaxed totally, the darkness of the past at last put exactly there—in the past. Somehow during the next ten days of sunshine and rest it stopped being her burden to carry any more. It was Liam's now. As was Carlyle Properties.

  One thing Juliet had done since coming here was to telephone the lawyer in England and instruct him to draw up the necessary papers so that she could sign all of the company over to Liam. She had also instructed him to deed the house over to Janet's name; the other woman certainly had more right to it than she had ever had. And this way Juliet would be totally fin
ished with the Carlyle family.

  Which was the way she wanted it to be.

  The way it had to be.

  Her love for Liam was futile, for oh, so many reasons, but the main one had to be that he would never love her in return. But breaking free of the business, the house had somehow given her ultimate freedom in everything. There was a big world out there—a world without Liam, she accepted, but for the first time she felt an anticipation about the future. Quite what that future held for her she didn't know, but loving Liam had somehow freed her from the ties of the past.

  'You're standing in the way of my view.'

  Juliet froze as she stood on the sea-shore. Those words. That voice. A voice that had been arrogantly self-assured the last time it had uttered those very same words, but which was gently caressing this time.

  Why was Liam here? How had he known to find her here? Only he could answer those questions, she acknowledged.

  She turned slowly, her hands clenched tightly together in front of her, unsure of what she was about to see.

  He stood on the sand only about ten feet away from her, dressed in denims and a blue short-sleeved shirt. But it was his face that held her mesmerised. He looked older; lines were etched beside his nose and mouth, and his expression was grim. And he had lost weight; it showed in those lines on his face, the loose fit of his denims.

  'Liam, what's happened?' She frowned her concern, taking a step towards him.

  'You can ask me that? Simon and my father…'

  Juliet had put up a silencing hand. 'Janet has told you the truth by now, I'm sure. It's enough.'

  He shook his head. 'Never enough, Juliet. What Simon tried to do—' He broke off in suppressed rage. 'My father paying the price of knowing, for the next seven years, that if the two of them hadn't fought then Simon wouldn't have fallen down the stairs! God, Juliet—'

  'It's over, Liam.' She sighed. 'At long last it's over. And I think it should remain that way.' She had finally come to terms with the fact that Simon had died after his attack on her, had fallen down the stairs to his death during the fight with his father. It was a burden that William had carried to his grave. But now it was over.

  For several long minutes Liam returned her gaze as intently as she was looking at him, and then he nodded acceptance of what she was saying. 'You're looking good,' he murmured huskily.

  She knew that the last ten days of rest and good food had had an effect; she looked tanned and healthy in the white sundress, her hair loose about her shoulders, her eyes glowing deeply grey in her glowing face. But if she looked fit and healthy Liam looked the opposite.

  'We weren't talking about me—'

  'Yes, we were,' he nodded. 'The last time we spoke, that's exactly what we were doing. It took me until early yesterday evening to find out exactly where you were, when your lawyer at last relented and told me where he had received his instructions from concerning the business and the house. And even then he would only say it was Majorca,' Liam added disgustedly. 'It took me another few hours of telephoning round to realise that you had actually come here. You had to know this would be the last place I would think of looking!'

  Juliet swallowed hard, her glow fading slightly at his mention of 'the last time we spoke'; that conversation had concerned Simon too, and he was at last buried in the depths of her memories.

  She looked at Liam frowningly. 'Why were you looking for me at all?' She sounded puzzled. 'I thought we had said all that had to be said.'

  'I had said what I thought needed to be said,' he acknowledged self-deprecatingly. 'God, Juliet—'

  He broke off abruptly after she took a step backwards as he moved forcefully towards her. 'I would never hurt you.' He sighed softly as he saw her instinctive reaction. 'You've been hurt enough already!'

  She moistened her lips. 'Then why are you here?'

  'Certainly not to hurt you!' he groaned. 'Don't you understand, Juliet?' He ran an agitated hand through the thickness of his hair. 'I never really wanted to hurt you. Oh, I know that I did,' he admitted heavily at her sceptical expression. 'That I was damned cruel to you at times. But I was falling in love with the very last woman on earth I thought I should ever care about!'

  She swallowed hard, sure that she must have misunderstood him; Liam couldn't possibly have just said that he loved her. He couldn't have done!

  He looked about them impatiently. 'Juliet, could we get off this very public beach and go somewhere where we can talk privately?' he said feelingly.

  She was still reeling from what he had said a minute ago. Liam loved her?

  'Juliet?' he prompted uncertainly at her lack of response.

  Of course they could get off this beach; if Liam was going to tell her again that he loved her, they could go anywhere he wanted them to!

  'My suite?' she suggested breathlessly, unable to take her eyes off him—possibly because some part of her was still not convinced that he was actually here, certainly not that he was telling her he loved her!

  He nodded abruptly. 'I haven't had a chance to book in yet, so that will be perfect.' The two of them turned to walk side by side to the hotel a short distance away, not touching, but both very aware of the other.

  Juliet had managed to book one of the ground-floor suites this time, so she was able to let them in without actually going inside the hotel itself. 'Would you like a drink?' She offered him a choice from the fridge-bar.

  'Maybe in a few minutes.' His gaze remained fixed on her healthily tanned face. 'If you haven't thrown me out by then,' he added ruefully.

  She frowned. 'Why would I do that?'

  He drew in a ragged breath. 'I've said some pretty awful things to you—'

  'With justification, I think,' Juliet interrupted firmly. 'The situation, as it stood, looked very damning. You—'

  'I could have tried listening more, instead of jumping to conclusions,' he cut in with self-contempt.

  'I don't think so,' she said comfortingly. 'I was engaged to your brother, lived with your father after Simon's death, inherited a house and half a business on his death; I think you may have been justified in the conclusions you came up with!' She had thought about it a lot over the last ten days; what other conclusion could Liam have come to, in the circumstances, than the one he had?

  Liam grimaced. 'Don't let me off the hook too easily, Juliet,' he sighed. 'As Diana has told me, only too volubly, I deserve any verbal abuse you may want to throw at me.'

  Juliet stiffened at the mention of the other woman's name; she had briefly forgotten Liam's involvement with her. What difference did it make if he loved her when he was committed to the other woman?

  'How is Diana?' she asked coolly.

  'Not too well.' Liam frowned. 'The doctor has ordered her to stay in bed for a couple of weeks.'

  Juliet moistened dry lips. 'I see.'

  'She told you about the baby?' he prompted.

  'Not exactly,' Juliet answered evasively, not particularly wanting to get involved in a conversation in which she would have to admit to having inadvertently eavesdropped on something that was none of her business.

  Liam shrugged. 'Tom is damned furious about the whole thing, which isn't helping the situation.' He shook his head.

  Juliet stared at him incredulously. 'Doesn't he have a right to be furious?' she gasped. After all, Tom's wife was pregnant with another man's baby—this man's baby!

  Liam pulled a face. 'Not particularly, no. After all, he was there too; she didn't do it all on her own.'

  She frowned. Was it her, or had the conversation taken a turn she just wasn't expecting?

  She shook her head. 'You've lost me somewhere, Liam.' She sat down in one of the armchairs, sure that this was going to be a long conversation, and she had no intention of standing through all of it.

  Liam sat down too, across the room from her. 'Tom and Diana decided years ago that they wouldn't have children. But somehow three months ago Diana's pills let her down, and now she's pregnant after all. But if she takes it e
asy, looks after herself and the baby, things should go OK.

  'Tom is panicking because of what happened in the past. I've tried to reassure him, but he remembers what happened to Becky only too well.' He sighed. 'There's no reason why it should happen again, but I don't suppose he can help worrying.'

  No, it wasn't her; she really didn't know what this conversation was about! 'Who is Becky?' she prompted impatiently.

  'Diana's sister. My wife,' he added as Juliet still looked blank. 'She died in childbirth four years ago. And the baby was stillborn.'

  Juliet just stared at him. And stared at him. And stared at him. She knew he had been married—he had told her so—but she hadn't known it was to Diana's sister, or that his wife had actually died. She had a lightning replay of that conversation she had heard between Diana and Liam, and it suddenly made a different sort of sense. Liam wasn't having an affair with Diana at all, and the baby certainly wasn't his; he just happened to be a member of her family, and was concerned for her and her husband. And their unborn baby.

  Which wasn't surprising when his own wife and baby had died. God, how awful for him. Her own past losses had been bad enough, but to have lost both his wife and the baby…! It must have been terrible for him. Probably still was.

  'I didn't know…' Juliet said weakly.

  'There's no reason why you should.' Liam shrugged, obviously still finding it a painful subject. 'It was some time ago, and isn't something I particularly want to talk about. It's just a pity that it's affecting Diana and Tom's joy over their own baby.'

  'Everything will be all right, though, won't it?' Juliet said concernedly; she had come to like the other woman in the short time she had known her.

  'I'm sure it will, once Tom gets over the shock.' He nodded. 'In the meantime, I'm looking for a new personal assistant,' he added slowly, uncertainly. 'And as Diana pointed out to me, during one of her less verbally condemning moments, I do know someone who is more than ably qualified.' He gave her a pointed look.