by Anne Mather
He drew up beside the shabby station wagon just after two o'clock, and instead of getting out of the car to go to the door, he sounded the horn. It was an arrogant thing to do, and he knew it, but his feelings would not allow him any weakness or compassion.
Minutes passed^ and no one came, and his temper simmered. Damn the woman, where was she? She knew he would come. Why the hell hadn't she been waiting for him? But he knew deep inside him that Rachel was not likely to be intimidated by what she would term an immature attempt to disconcert her.
With a sigh, he thrust open his door and got out, scowling as within seconds his shoulders were wet. He ran for the porch, and as he reached it, the door opened and Rachel appeared. She looked surprised to see him, but he was convinced she had been waiting for him to get out of the car before showing herself.
He sheltered in the porchway as she closed the door behind her, his expression not encouraging. "Very clever!" he observed coldly. "But rather childish, don't you think?"
She looked up at him with wide, innocent hazel eyes. "What are you talking about?"
Joel opened his mouth to berate her, and then closed it again. He shook his head, and glanced briefly at her clothes. She was still wearing the shirt and slacks from the morning, but the apron had been replaced by a fur-lined poplin coat. Its dark green colour accentuated the pallor of her cheeks, and for a moment compassion stirred within him.
"Do you want me to bring the car nearer?" he asked.
She shook her head now. "I'm used to walking in the rain," she replied. "Shall we go?"
Taking the initiative, she stepped out from the porch, and with a suppressed oath, Joel strode ahead of her to open the car doors. She got into the front seat without looking at him, and he slammed the door more violently than was necessary before walking round the bonnet to join her.
Once inside, he examined the shoulders of his jacket, and finding them soaked, he took his jacket off and slung it carelessly on to the back seat. Then he indicated that she might like to do the same, but she silently refused. Shrugging, he started the engine and drove down the drive, halting at the gates when she said:
"Where are you taking me? I have to be back in an hour."
"An hour?" He glared sideways at her.
"Yes, an hour. Sara sleeps for that long in the afternoons. I have to be back before she awakes."
Joel made no comment, but drove swiftly along the road towards the spot where he had parked this morning. There was room there to park the car off the road, and it was remote enough, goodness knows. Rachel said nothing as they drove along, and Joel wondered whether she was composing what she was going to say to him. For himself, anger simmered too near the surface for him to think with reasonable logic, and he had to force himself not to stop the car there and then and demand that she stop this ridiculous charade she was playing.
It didn't take long to reach the beck, and Joel stopped the car on the layby and reached automatically for a cheroot. Without asking her permission, he lit it and inhaled deeply, rolling down his window half way to allow the fumes to escape.
"Well?" he said at last, when she still made no attempt to speak to him. "What's it all about?"
Rachel linked her hands together in her lap. "What's what all about?"
"Don't give me that, Rachel. We both know what I'm talking about. I want to know how you came to know my father well enough for him to ask you to marry him."
Rachel lifted her slim shoulders. "I - I've known him for years, Joel. You know that."
Joel chewed impatiently at the end of the cheroot. "Because I introduced you?" He scowled. "That won't do, Rachel. I can count on one hand the number of times you met my father through me. We were not - we have never been - the best of friends, and you know it!"
"I - I was only explaining that - that it's some years since I first met him, that's all."
"I am aware of that."
"I know you are." She curled her nails into her palms. "W-Why should it strike you as so extraordinary that your father should want to - to marry me? He - he always - liked me."
Joel's mouth thinned. "Rachel, for God's sake - "
"Oh, Joel, stop it! Stop it!" She put her hands over her ears. "Why did you come here? What do you hope to achieve? Everything between us was over long ago. You know that. You have no right to question what I intend to do."
"Haven't I?" Joel stared at her furiously. "Haven't I, just! My God, you're a cool one! Did you really think you could agree to marry my father without arousing any reaction from me?"
"What's it to do with you?"
"You want to be my stepmother, is that it? You love my father now as you once said you loved me? Oh, come off it, Rachel, it won't do! What is it? Some rotten attempt at revenge? Is this intended to show me what might have been?"
"And what if it is?" she burst out hotly. "What can you do about it?"
There was silence for a few moments and Joel stared grimly out of the windows at the falling rain. He couldn't believe it! He simply couldn't believe it! Rachel wasn't like that. Or at least, she hadn't been. But then it was years since they had split up. She had married since then, had a child. Who knew what manner of life she had led to bring her to this.
With a sigh he said quietly: "Tell me why you disappeared like that. What did I do to arouse such a desire to escape?"
Rachel took a deep breath. "You ask me that?" She shook her head bitterly. "What's the use of talking, Joel? The past is dead. It's the future I'm concerned about."
Joel's jaw hardened. "At anyone's expense!"
"That's not true. You know nothing about it."
"Then tell me."
Rachel pleated the folds of her coat. "Joel, I'm going to marry your father. Nothing you - or Francis - can say will alter that."
Joel's fists clenched. "You must, be pretty desperate, Rachel!" he muttered savagely.
"I am."
"Why?" He turned to look at her, noticing again the hollows in her cheeks, the lacklustre quality of her eyes. Hardly the face of a bride-to-be. "Is it money? If it's money you want, I can give you that."
Rachel's lips twisted contemptuously. "If I were a man, I'd knock you down for a remark like that!" she exclaimed. "I wouldn't marry any man for money! Oh, you should be proud of yourself, Joel! You're a bastard of the first water!"
Joel moved then, imprisoning her wrist between his fingers, feeling the fragile bones quiver within his hand. He knew he could crush her physically with very little effort, but that was not his intention. He was not an animal. He had a brain, and he intended to use it. But just as this moment he wanted to hurt her, he wanted to see her squirm, as mentally she was trying to make him. She winced as he applied pressure to her wrist, but she didn't cry out. He was so close he could inhale the warm scent of her body, and his eyes were irresistibly drawn to the opened neck of her blouse. He understood only too well the fire that suddenly stirred in his loins, and with a feeling of self-disgust he let her go and slumped in his seat.
"I want to know about your husband and the child," he persisted doggedly. "Is Gilmour dead? My father said you're a widow."
Rachel was rubbing her wrist. "I am."
"What was your husband's name?"
"His name?" She looked startled. "You know his name."
"Gilmour?" Joel turned cold eyes on her. "Is that what you called him? Gilmour?"
"Oh! Oh, no, of course not." Rachel flushed then. "His Christian name was - Alan."
"Alan Gilmour. What did he do?" Rachel looked puzzled, and he added: "His occupation? What was his occupation?"
"Does it matter?"
"I think so."
She sighed. "He was an engineer. He - he worked for the government."
"I see." Joel digested this. "How long were you married?"
"Two - three years. What does it matter now?"
Joel didn't altogether understand why he was so curious, except that there was a certain sadistic satisfaction to be gained from forcing her to talk about somethin
g which must be painful to her. He threw the end of his cheroot out of the window. "I suppose you must have found it hard bringing up a child alone," he remarked probingly. "Is that why you took the job as this Colonel Frenshaw's housekeeper?" He paused. "Is that why you're marrying my father? For Sara's sake?"
"Don't you dare to mention her name!" she cried fiercely. "You don't know her. You don't know me. Why don't you go away and leave me alone!"
"I want to know."
"It's not your affair."
"Damn you, isn't it? I have a right to know - "
"A right! A right, Joel!" Her voice had risen. "You have no rights, no rights at all. You forfeited them when . .. when ..." Her voice trailed away and she turned away from him, staring down at her hands. "I want to go back now. Will you take me - please?"
Joel levered himself up in his seat, staring at her averted profile. For a moment, just for a moment, he had been near to learning the real truth behind all this. He knew it, and he exulted in it. But she had withdrawn again, and frustration filled him. He sat there, his fists clenched, wishing for once that she was a man. With a man, he would have felt no compunction about beating the truth out of him. But Rachel was not a man, she was very much a woman, and somehow he had to find a way to release the pent-up emotions which were silencing her tongue. But how?
Rachel was controlled again, and she glanced briefly into his face. "Will you take me back?" she asked again.
"Not yet," said Joel tautly. "Not yet." He forced his mind to go back over what had been said, trying to find the key to open the locked door. What had he said to arouse her to the extent that she had almost betrayed herself? What words had lie used to create such an upheaval? What had they been talking about? Her husband? Gilmour? Yes. And - and the child ... He tried to remember what he had said about the child. Was it his suggestion that she was marrying his father for the child's sake which had triggered her outburst? He had to try again.
Reaching for another cheroot, he said quietly: "And when
do you plan to get married?"
Rachel sighed impatiently. "I don't know exactly. In a few weeks."
"And until then you're going to go on living here?"
"I - perhaps."
Joel controlled his irritation. "And Sara? Will Sara live with you once you're married?"
She stared angrily at him. "Of course she will. Where else would she live? Oh, stop this, Joel, stop it now! I want to go back. I've been away long enough. Sara might waken - "
"I'm sure Hanson will be more than pleased to look after her for a while," returned Joel coldly. "She's not a baby, is she? What is she - three? Four? Old enough to understand when her mother isn't available."
Rachel drew an unsteady breath. "Are you going to take me back?" she repeated tremulously.
"And if I say no?"
"I can walk. I'm not helpless."
Her hand went to the door handle, but he forestalled her, reaching across her to prevent her from opening it. His arm was pressed against her breasts, and although she shrank away from his touch, he deliberately moved closer.
"What's the matter, Rachel?" he demanded mockingly, suddenly realising he had a far more potent weapon than force to arouse her. "It you're going to be my stepmama, what's wrong with us getting better acquainted? As I recall it, you used to like me to touch you."
She struggled to free herself, her breath coining in shallow gasps, and while mentally he could stand back and be appalled a I the way he was behaving, something stronger than his self- respect was driving him on. Indeed, her nearness was having a most disturbing effect on him, and while love did not enter into his thoughts, lust was beginning to rear its ugly head. In spite of her slenderness, in spite of the severe hairstyle and unfashionable clothes, Rachel was still a very beautiful woman, and she had always had the power to disrupt his sensual processes, a power which he had once resented.
"Let go of me!" she stormed at him, her face twisted with contempt and bitterness. "I might have known it would come to this! This is all you're good for, isn't it, Joel!"
"What the hell do you mean by that?"
"It's the truth!" she choked. "You want everything and nothing, don't you? The body, without the mind. The pleasure without the pain?"
"What are you talking about?"
He was gripping her shoulders now, and while his brain told him he was achieving what he wanted to achieve, cold logic warned him that he might not like what he was about to hear. He shook her violently, and her hair came loose from the knot and fell in a silken curtain about her shoulders. She had never looked more abandoned, more desirable, and emotions, long dormant, returned to torment him. He was remembering the last time he had seen her like this, and then her needs had matched his own...
"Rachel . . ." he muttered hoarsely, but with a desperate effort she evaded his urgent mouth.
"Let me go, you brute!" she gasped. "Don't you dare to touch me!"
"Rachel, Rachel!" His fingers on her shoulders tightened. "You don't have to be afraid of me. My God, I loved you once. I'd never hurt you - "
"Wouldn't you?" She strained away from him, her face hectically flushed. "You don't expect me to believe that, do you?"
"Why, for God's sake?" Temper was hardening his voice. "What have I ever done to you? Tell me that. You walked out on me, remember? You're the one who split, who ran away without telling anyone where you were going! My God, I nearly went out of my mind! You're the one who quickly found some other man to take my place, so don't talk to me about hurting people!"
Rachel's lips curled. "You don't understand, do you, Joel? Even now, you haven't the first idea what I'm talking about." She shook her head almost pityingly. "Joel, Sara is not two or three years old. She's five. Five! Do you realise what that means?"
Joel's hands on her shoulders slackened, and his brows drew together causing deep lines to etch his forehead. An awful sick feeling was invading his stomach, and he was hardly aware of her staring at him, gauging his reactions, enjoying his shattering sense of horror and disbelief. Then his thoughts found coherence in denial.
"What are you saying?" he demanded thickly.
Rachel's triumph was short-lived, and she moved her shoulders helplessly. "I shouldn't have told you," she murmured dully.
"Shouldn't have told me? Shouldn't have told me what?" Joel was recovering fast. "Are you saying this child - this Sara -is my daughter?"
Rachel looked up at him almost defeatedly. "Whose else would she be?"
He moved his head confusedly. "Gilmour's, your husband's!"
"I had no husband, Joel. I've worked for Colonel Frenshaw for the past five years."
Joel almost flung her away from him, reaching grimly for the ignition key. "What are you doing?" Her white face was startled.
"What do you think I'm doing?" he retorted, breathing unevenly. "I'm taking you back to the Hall. I'm going to see my daughter - if she is my daughter!"
Rachel stayed his hand, gripping his arm tightly for a moment. "Oh, no," she said. "You can't do that- "
"Try and stop me!"
"I will. I'll do everything in my power to stop you," she declared. "I'll even go to the papers if I have to."
That momentarily stalled him, and he turned to look at her scornfully. "Why? Why shouldn't I see my daughter? Are you afraid for me to see her? Are you afraid I might find you out in your lie?"
"It's no lie." Rachel sighed. "Let me explain, Joel, just let me explain."
"What can you explain ?"
Rachel shook her head. "Why do you want to see her? You don't like children, Joel. You always said so."
"But it seems I have one, doesn't it?"
"And you think that entities you to call Sara your daughter?" Rachel was incredulous now. "My God, Joel, you've got a nerve!"
Joel raked his hands through his hair. He couldn't take in all this. He couldn't believe what had been said. It was some trick, some ploy on Rachel's part to make him squirm. It had to be.
Trying to re
main calm, he said tautly: "All right. So I admit - children don't play any part in my life style. I'm a painter, Rachel, not a nursemaid!"
"Exactly."
"And do you think that opinion entitled you to keep my daughter's existence a secret all these years ?"
Rachel plucked nervously at a strand of her hair. "Think back, Joel," she said jerkily. "Think back. Can you imagine what your reaction would have been six years ago, if I'd come to you then and told you I was expecting your child?"
Joel shifted restlessly. Six years ago he had still been making his way, six years ago ambition had been a driving force within him. It still was - but in a different way. And in any case...
"It should never have happened,'' he muttered. "You should have taken precautions - "
"I should have taken precautions? Oh, that's rich, Joel, that's really rich! I should have taken precautions. I should have made sure that because of your carelessness, nothing happened! Not you! Nothing should mar your pleasure! My God, Joel, you're a selfish swine! You are and always will be! Might I remind you that I had no way of knowing what you intended to do? I trusted you, Joel. I thought you loved me. I didn't know that sex was all you wanted all along - "
"That's not true, Rachel!" Joel was grim. "I loved you. I really loved you. And what happened - what happened - happened because we both wanted it to happen."
"No /" She put her hands over her ears again.
"Yes!" he muttered savagely. "I wanted to share my life with you, Rachel - "
"Share your life? Live with you, you mean!"
"Perhaps I did mean that initially," he conceded harshly. "But sooner or later - "
" - you'd have found someone else!"
"No, damn you. Sooner or later, I should have married you."
"How gallant of you!"
"Rachel, marriage wasn't among my plans at that time!"
"And children were among your plans at no time!"
Joel ran a hand round the back of his neck. He felt disorientated, confused. He didn't know what to think right now.