An unholy gleam in his eye, Jonathan murmured, ‘That sounds like fun.’
Ignoring his remark, Loris jumped to her feet. Just in case her father returned, the sooner they were out of the house the better she’d like it. ‘Well, if you want to go for that walk…’
‘Indeed I do.’ Following her from the now empty breakfast-room, he added, ‘Though as evening shoes aren’t exactly suitable for cross-country hikes, I may need to borrow a pair of brogues.’
‘I take it you know which is Simon’s room?’ she asked curtly, leading the way upstairs.
‘Yes. Isobel, as she insisted I call her, took me along there earlier.’
Watching his companion’s soft mouth tighten, he smiled grimly. ‘I’m quite aware that you would sooner I’d just sneaked off like some criminal, or even vanished in a puff of smoke, rather than meet your mother.’ As Loris’s colour rose, he added, ‘But when I was on my way downstairs, I ran into her…’
It seemed to be the morning for unfortunate meetings, Loris thought with wry humour.
‘I was forced to explain my presence, and why I was still wearing evening dress. She was very gracious.’
‘Yes, she would be,’ Loris said drily, remembering his impeccable evening clothes.
Picking up her meaning instantly, he asked ironically, ‘So you think it would have been better if I’d claimed kinship with Sir Hugh Drummond?’
‘No, I don’t. And if you’re expecting me to apologise for her snobbery…’
‘I’m not. You can hardly be held responsijble for her faults. Though she may well be responsible for yours.’
Loris flinched. ‘If you think I wanted you to go because I was ashamed of you—’
‘Didn’t you?’
Golden eyes flashing, she denied, ‘No, I most certainly did not. I was ashamed. But it was of myself.’
He gave her a keen, curious glance. ‘I don’t—’
They had reached the door of her room and, before he could complete whatever it was he was going to say, she turned the knob and asked quickly, ‘Perhaps we can get ready and talk later?’
‘By all means.’ Without further ado, he disappeared in the direction of Simon’s room.
As soon as Loris had replaced her thin waistcoat with a cream wool jumper, and changed into walking shoes and an anorak, she hurried back.
He was waiting in the corridor, similarly attired.
They left the house without speaking and, following the old red brick wall that bounded the Monkswood Estate, took the path that ran between it and the woods.
It was cold with a blustery wind but, though the clouds looked threatening, the impending rain had held off. They were both bare-headed, and collars turned up around their ears, they walked briskly, avoiding a litter of small branches and storm debris.
When they reached clearer, rising ground, she slowed a little and, walking side by side, they fell comfortably into step. He seemed appreciably taller this morning, and she realised it was because she was wearing flat heels.
She was wondering how to broach the subject of his leaving when he broke the silence to say, ‘After your initial rather cool reception, I’m curious to know why you agreed to come walking with me.’ Mockingly he added, ‘I don’t suppose it was because you wanted my company?’
‘You don’t suppose right,’ she informed him shortly. ‘I wanted to ask you to go.’
‘Tell me something. Is it just me you can’t bear the sight of? Or do you prefer all your one-night stands to quietly disappear the following morning?’
‘How dare you?’ she choked, almost too furious to speak. ‘I don’t go in for one-night stands. Last night was the first and only time I’ve ever…’
‘Cheated on your fiancé?’ he suggested, as she paused to search for the right words.
‘Allowed myself to be seduced.’
‘Without wishing to sound ungallant, may I point out that you invited it.’
‘I did no such thing,’ she flared.
‘You came back to my room on the pretext of bringing me a razor—’
‘That wasn’t a pretext.’ Seeing he was far from convinced, she insisted, ‘Truly it wasn’t.’
He frowned. ‘Why don’t you admit that the whole thing was just another game of tit-for-tat?’
‘Tit-for-tat?’ she echoed blankly.
‘Your fiancé had gone off with another woman, so you invited me to stay the night, to have his room, so that I was handy, so to speak.’
Remembering the little scene on the dance floor, she stopped walking abruptly and turned to him, a look of horror on her face. ‘You don’t honestly think that? Think I was just using you to retaliate?’
‘What else can I think?’
Suddenly it seemed very important to convince him that she’d had no such intention. ‘You’re wrong. Quite wrong,’ she cried passionately. ‘I may have a lot of faults, but I’m not that kind of woman. A kiss on a dance floor, when everyone else was kissing, would have been one thing, but I would never have dreamt of going to those lengths…’
‘Well, if it wasn’t a spot of retaliation, and you don’t go in for one-night stands, why did you come back to my room?’
‘I’ve told you.’
‘You mean it really was just to bring me a razor?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then all I can say is you’re remarkably naïve.’
‘Stupid would be a better word,’ she corrected him bitterly.
He took both her hands in his and said gently, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘For thinking so badly of me? Or for seducing me?’
‘Both. I’m not in the habit of seducing other men’s fiancées, except…’
‘Except when they invite it?’
Shaking his head, he said, ‘I’m sorry, I completely misread the signs. I thought you wanted me to make love to you as much as I wanted to. It seemed a—’ He broke off abruptly, then went on, ‘I should have realised I was mistaken when you ran like a frightened rabbit this morning. Believe me, I didn’t mean it to be like this, and I blame myself very much.’ He released her hands. ‘If you’d like to go back to the house now, I’ll leave as soon as I’ve changed.’
It was what she had wanted to hear, yet, fundamentally honest, she found she couldn’t let him go thinking he was entirely to blame.
Lifting her chin, her face as red as a poppy, she said, ‘It’s quite true that the razor wasn’t a pretext; it’s also true that I’ve never before indulged in casual sex—’
He raised an eyebrow at the casual. ‘I thought it was rather more than that.’
‘How could it be? Two virtual strangers…’
‘Did the fact that we were virtual strangers matter? Wasn’t how we made each other feel much more important?’
When, not knowing quite what to say, she remained silent, he pursued, ‘I thought you enjoyed it as much as I did. Was I wrong again?’
No, he wasn’t wrong. It had been wonderful, but she wasn’t about to tell him so.
Ignoring the question, she went on doggedly, ‘The point I’m making is that you weren’t wholly to blame. I’m as responsible for what happened as you are. I did want you to make love to me.’
With betraying candour, she added, ‘It’s so unlike me. That’s why I couldn’t face you this morning. I felt dreadfully ashamed. I thought you’d think I was easy. In the event, you thought even worse of me.’
‘For which I’m sincerely sorry.’
‘I’m sorry too. Sorry for involving you in something that could have very unpleasant consequences.’
He gazed down at her enchanting face. Her golden eyes were serious beneath a black, wind-ruffled fringe, her small nose was red with cold and her generous mouth looked pinched.
Suppressing a powerful desire to kiss some colour into those pale lips, he said abruptly, ‘Let’s walk on. It’s getting cold standing here.’
Because her mind was on other things, Loris had scarcely noticed the cold until then. But as he spoke s
he became aware that her feet were numb and her whole body was chilled and on the verge of shivering. Trying to stop her teeth chattering, she objected, ‘But I thought we were going back.’
‘It’s a fair way back, and you look half-frozen. What if we walk as far as the Lamb and Flag—it’ll only take a couple of minutes—and have a pot of hot coffee?’
She was torn. The prospect of some hot coffee was a very welcome one, but at the same time she wanted him safely out of the way before Mark arrived and her father discovered what had happened.
As she hesitated, Jonathan took her hand. ‘Come on, it’s starting to rain.’ Fingers twined in hers, he began to hurry her up the lane that led to the pub.
The Lamb and Flag, a picturesque black and white half-timbered building with overhanging eaves and a decided list to starboard, was an old coaching inn, left mercifully unmodernised.
Inside, the white walls were of rough plaster, and the low ceiling was oak-beamed. In the inglenook fireplace at the far end of the room a huge log fire blazed and crackled. The floor was made of grey stone slabs, polished smooth by time and the passage of many feet.
At the moment, however, the place was empty, apart from the buxom landlady behind the bar who was replacing glasses.
‘Nasty cold morning,’ she greeted them cheerfully.
‘It is,’ Jonathan agreed.
As though to add point to their words, a flurry of sleet was thrown against the leaded windows.
‘What will you have?’ She gave them a big, hospitable smile.
‘Can you manage a large pot of coffee?’
‘I can indeed. If you want to take a seat by the fire, I’ll fetch it over to you.’
Having helped Loris off with her anorak, Jonathan removed his own and hung them both on one of the large wooden pegs just inside the door.
She saw that he’d replaced his jacket with a dark-green sweater that made him look even fairer, and even more attractive.
Feeling the unwelcome pull of that attraction, she carefully avoided his eyes as they crossed to the fire. When they were comfortably ensconced in front of it, Loris took off her shoes and stretched her icy feet gratefully to the warmth. Some life was returning to them by the time the landlady brought over the coffee and two heated pottery mugs.
Addressing them both, she said, ‘Though we’re not expecting many customers on a morning like this, there’ll be some food ready in about half an hour, if you want to eat.’ Then, to Jonathan, ‘It’s one of your favourites today. Chicken and pasta bake.’
‘It sounds as if you’re a regular,’ Loris remarked as the landlady disappeared kitchenwards.
‘I’ve popped in a few times since I’ve been back,’ he said casually.
‘I thought you lived in town?’
‘Yes, I do, during the week. But since I returned to England I’ve been in this area most weekends, visiting old haunts.’
Loris reached to pour the coffee, which was good and hot and accompanied by thick, country cream and brown sugar.
She didn’t usually take either, but, with no weight problem to worry about, she treated herself to a spoonful of sugar and a generous helping of cream, while Jonathan drank his black.
Both their cups had been drained and replenished, and Loris was trying to think of the best way to tell him what he would have to know, when he pre-empted her by remarking, ‘You mentioned something about unpleasant consequences…’
‘Yes.’ She sighed. ‘When Mark finds out what’s happened, he’s bound to be livid.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought he had any justification for being livid,’ Jonathan remarked levelly. ‘After all, he was, in a manner of speaking, the first to stray from the fold.’
‘He’s not likely to take that into account. In any case, two wrongs don’t make a right—’ even as she spoke, Loris was unhappily aware how very prim and self-righteous she sounded ‘—and in a way, I drove him to it.’
Jonathan’s fair, well-marked brows rose. ‘You drove him to it? Surely you don’t mean by being late for the party?’
‘Well, partly… Though there was a lot more to it than that.’
‘A growing incompatibility?’ he hazarded.
‘Certainly not.’ Seeing he was waiting for an explanation, her colour rising, she added, ‘It’s something I’d rather not talk about.’
‘But because you feel guilty, to salve your conscience, you intend to confess all?’
‘No. The truth is, I don’t have much option. You see, when I was leaving your room this morning I ran into my father in the corridor. I was carrying my clothes. Last night’s party dress…’
‘Ah! A dead giveaway.’ Humorously, he added, ‘So why didn’t he come bursting in with a shotgun?’
‘Because it was Mark’s room, and he didn’t realise that Mark hadn’t come down as planned.’
‘I see… And of course he was used to you sleeping with your fiancé?’
As she began to shake her head he said, ‘No, that doesn’t make sense. If your parents know you two sleep together, why were you given separate rooms? Surely it wasn’t just for the look of the thing?’
‘They don’t know.’
‘Then you were quite used to corridor creeping?’
‘No,’ she said sharply.
He lifted a quizzical brow. ‘You mean if you were under your parents’ roof you went all Victorian?’
She failed to answer, and he queried thoughtfully, ‘When your father saw you leaving, as he thought, Longton’s bed, was he unhappy about it?’
‘The contrary, I think, after what had happened at the party. You see, Mark and he have always got along very well, and he’s looking forward to having him for a son-in-law…’
‘That’s understandable. They’re similar types.’
‘No, not really…’ But even as she started to deny it she knew he was right; they were similar types. Her mother had already spotted it.
Though she had done her utmost, Loris had never really got along with her father. Now, made uncomfortable by the sudden realisation of how alike he and her fiancé were, she bit her lip.
‘So, while he had no objection to you sleeping with Longton, there’ll almost certainly be the devil to pay when he discovers that it wasn’t Longton you’d spent the night with.’
‘Exactly,’ she said. Adding with renewed urgency, ‘That’s why I want you to leave before Mark gets here and he does find out.’
‘I’m not much for running. Unless you’ve decided to run with me?’
‘No, I haven’t. What would be the use? I’ll have to face them all some time, so I may as well get it over with. But the sooner you go the better…’
She reached for her shoes in preparation for leaving.
A hand on her arm, he stopped her. ‘There’s no hurry. As it’s already gone twelve…’
Gone twelve! She hadn’t realised how late it was.
‘…and I can vouch for the cooking, I suggest we grab a spot of lunch before we start back.’
As she began to shake her head, he asked coaxingly, ‘Wouldn’t you sooner lunch here, just the two of us in front of a good fire, rather than at Monkswood?’
The true answer was yes. Almost anything would be preferable to lunching at home. But there simply wasn’t time.
‘You didn’t have any breakfast,’ he went on, ‘so you must be getting hungry.’
‘No… No, I’m not.’
‘Well, I am.’
Her agitation obvious, she insisted, ‘But we haven’t time to stay for lunch. Surely you can get something to eat on the way back to London?’
‘I’ve decided not to go back just yet.’
‘But you must…’
Mark was possessive, and tended to be jealous for no good reason. On one occasion he’d threatened to knock a waiter down merely for ‘ogling’ her.
Now there was a good reason she shuddered to think what might happen. If he lost his temper and it came to a fight Jonathan was a few inches shorter, slimly built
and a good three stone lighter.
‘Mark can be very intimidating when he loses his temper,’ she added.
‘Dear me,’ Jonathan said mildly. ‘I really can’t think of anything worse than being intimidated by a six-feet-four-inch rugby forward.’
She gritted her teeth. ‘I wish you’d be serious.’
‘You think I’m not?’
‘This is no laughing matter. He’ll be absolutely furious.’
‘Won’t he be furious with you too?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘But he wouldn’t hit a woman—’
She broke off as the landlady emerged to say, ‘If you want to eat, it’s just ready. Shall I bring it through?’
Loris was about to politely refuse when Jonathan answered easily, ‘That would be great, Mrs Lawson.’
As Mrs Lawson bustled away, Loris begged desperately. ‘Please, Jonathan…’
‘It’s nice of you to be so concerned about me.’
‘It’s not nice, it’s necessary. You’ve never seen Mark when he’s in a rage. While he wouldn’t dream of hitting a woman, he’ll have no compunction about beating up a man.’
‘And you faint at the sight of blood?’
Concerned for his safety, and angry with him for treating the whole thing so lightly, she felt her eyes fill with tears of frustration. ‘Don’t you see? If you get hurt I’ll feel to blame.’
Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips and said gently, ‘There’s no need to worry. While I’m far from being Superman, I’m not exactly a seven-stone weakling. I can take care of myself.’
Suddenly, without rhyme or reason, she felt it likely that he could.
As though reading her mind, he smiled at her and suggested, ‘So why don’t you forget about it and enjoy your lunch?’
‘I’m not sure I can,’ she admitted, blinking away the tears.
‘Afraid I’ll beat him up?’ he asked quizzically.
Smiling in spite of herself, she shook her head. Then said in a heartfelt voice, ‘It’s all such a mess.’
‘Some good may come of it.’
‘No good will come of it,’ she corrected. ‘Have you stopped to think that with both my father and Mark gunning for you, your job might well be on the line?’
Marriage on the Agenda Page 5