She didn’t know whether it was the terrifying ordeal of finding an intruder on her land or Marcus’s last words but Vicky saw red.
“That’s rich coming from you. You know very well all about the wreath.” Her eyes were blazing with anger as she stared unblinkingly into his.
He still had hold of her arm and the pressure of his fingers digging into the skin, began to hurt. She tried to pull her arm free from his hold.
“What on earth do you mean?” he asked.
“You know all about the wreath because you were the one who ordered it. I’ve found out that much about your dirty tricks campaign,” Vicky shouted.
She hadn’t known what she expected him to do, whether it was to be cross with her, deny it all, admit it. But what she hadn’t been prepared for was for him to gently let go of her arm, push his hands through his dark hair and say quietly, “Can you really believe that of me?”
“Marcus, I went to the florist and they as good as told me it as you who ordered the black wreath.” Her voice had lost some of its anger.
She was now just resigned to hearing a confession finally from his own lips of all that she had suspected.
“Did they actually say it was me? Name me?”
Slowly, she shook her head.
“Well, no…they didn’t. But they said it was a…dark haired man.”
Marcus smiled and then grimaced. His lip was still bleeding.
“Come on, inside. I’ll see to that cut on your lip,” Vicky said, pleased for an excuse to be able to think this through.
Her mind was racing. The florist hadn’t actually said it was Marcus. It sounded ridiculous even to her own ears that her one major piece of proof was now found to be so flimsy.
Once they were in the kitchen, Vicky took time searching for the first aid kit to treat his cut lip. She wanted to delay the moment when he would once again demand an explanation from her. This time she knew she wouldn’t be able to defer it any longer.
She moved nearer to him, placing a bowl of warm water on the kitchen table in front of him when suddenly Marcus grabbed her hands and said, “Vicky, please believe me when I tell you I’ve had absolutely nothing to do with any of this.”
Tears pricked at her eyes. Who could she trust? Was he telling her the truth? He seemed sincere but could she rely on her own judgment? It had let her down so badly in the past.
The next thing she knew he was sweeping her into his arms and kissing away her tears. He held her tightly. For once, she didn’t resist him. She rested her head against his broad chest feeling a huge sense of security. Her doubts didn’t matter. Right now, she needed the comfort of his arms about her, his voice quietly repeating her name, his hands on her hair, stroking, touching her.
Finally her tears subsided and he led her into the lounge where he seated her on the sofa.
“Don’t you think it’s time you told me everything?”
What harm could it do now? she thought. She’d already blurted out that she’d blamed him for it all before.
So slowly she told him the whole story, explaining carefully that it had only been necessary for her to dine with Peter because she’d earlier suspected him. However by the time she’d gone with him to the Ship and Shore pub the florist had already told her that it was a dark haired man who’d ordered the black wreath. She’d known then that it couldn’t possibly have been Peter and so had thought, on that basis, that it must have been Marcus.
“Saturday morning? That was when she said the wreath was ordered, right?” He asked, as a slow smile crept across his lips.
She nodded.
“Don’t you remember that was the Saturday of the Nuneton party? The day Caroline and I went to the races and we broke down on the motorway.”
Vicky thought, having a hazy recollection about it all. Yes, Caroline had said that. Marcus couldn’t have ordered the wreath in person. He was away all day until the last hour before the party. She started to laugh.
“Oh, Marcus. It wasn’t you.” More happy than she dared to reveal to him.
“No, it wasn’t and neither were all the other things. Would I involve Caro? Would I have suggested calling in the police?”
“What about the land? Keith told me how you want to buy my cottage to join your two pieces of land together.” She watched him steadily, frightened she’d see traces in his expression that he was lying to her.
She saw nothing.
“I don’t deny I would like to have bought the cottage but it’s no big deal having the two plots of land spilt as they are at the moment. Definitely not enough to want to chase you out. Besides, I’ve kind of got used to having a beautiful neighbour.”
She blushed. Somehow she liked him teasing her now.
“If it wasn’t you then it was another dark haired man. Who?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Tell me some more.”
Long into the night she told him everything. Starting with the Alan Jeffreys incident.
“So it’s someone who wants me out of Brookleigh. But I just don’t know who it can be,” she said, finishing the story.
He studied her for a long while and then said, “I think I have a suspect.”
“Who?” she asked.
“No, I won’t tell you. I know what it’s like to be wrongly accused but I’ve a plan that should prove it. Didn’t you say you were going away for the weekend?”
She nodded. “To my parents in York.”
She saw an expression cross his face for a second which looked like relief to her.
“Well, Vicky here’s what I suggest you do…”
Chapter Nine
With her heart pounding uncomfortably in her chest and her stomach feeling just like a tight knot, Vicky was surprised to admit to herself that at the same time she was excited. Even huddled unceremoniously as she was in the back of Marcus’s Land Rover.
“All right, Vicky?” he called to her, over his shoulder as he drove, each bump in the road’s surface jarring her. “Won’t be long now before we’re there.”
“I’m fine,” she said, enjoying the opportunity to study him without him being aware of it.
Her eyes took in every detail; the way his dark hair curled on to the collar of the white shirt; his tanned, well-muscled forearm as he changed gear; his blue eyes in the rear view mirror. She watched, fascinated by this man she’d fallen hopelessly in love with.
But then he caught her gaze in the mirror and winked. Blushing furiously, she looked away, hurriedly, even though there was nothing to concentrate her vision on. She couldn’t see out, for she was enclosed in the back of the Land Rover and was relying on Marcus to tell her when they’d reached Nuneton House.
Although she was dreadfully tired, after staying up half the night telling Marcus the whole story, she felt restless, eager to put their plan into practice. When she’d seen him reluctantly out of the cottage last night, after finalising the project they’d hatched to try and catch the troublemakers, it had been well into the small hours. Vicky had gone to bed but had been far too excited to sleep. Only one thought was on her mind. Marcus was innocent. Her doubts about him were unfounded. For once, she could have trusted her heart. Now she knew he wasn’t behind the campaign to drive her out of Brookleigh, she was free to love him. However, as long as Lucinda was on the scene, she knew she still had to keep her feelings for him a precious secret.
It had been a hectic start to the day, too, she thought as she remembered the events of earlier that morning, hardly able to believe the extent to which they’d gone.
She’d left the cottage and driven in her Metro to the railway station in Churchton. After parking her car in what she hoped was a fairly conspicuous position, she’d bought a return ticket to York and then met Marcus on the platform as planned. The rush hour throng of commuters had concealed their movements as they’d made their way to his waiting Lan
d Rover. He’d hurried her into the back of the vehicle and they’d set off, heading for Nuneton House.
The flow of her thoughts was interrupted when she felt the Land Rover slow down and ease to a halt.
“We’re here. Come on—jump out quickly,” he ordered.
She climbed down and saw they were in the stable yard at Nuneton. No sooner had she left the confines of the Land Rover than Marcus restarted the engine and drove around the side of the building to park.
Standing in the quiet courtyard, awaiting Marcus’s return, Vicky considered how marvellous he’d been towards her during the last twelve hours: kind, patient and understanding. Finally, she’d been able to tell him the whole, long tale and once she’d started, she found him easy to confide in. She’d told him everything. He’d sat and listened quietly, content just to hear her story, maybe occasionally questioning a point or asking her to clarify something but otherwise he’d waited as she’d poured all the events out to him. It had been good therapy she’d found. Afterwards she’d felt better for telling someone. Better and stronger.
Although Marcus was almost certain he knew the identity of the culprit, and continued to refuse to share that knowledge with her, he still asked when she’d finished speaking, “Do you have any enemies?”
“Not that I know of. I haven’t been here long enough to make any.”
“What about competition?”
She shook her head. “I shouldn’t think so. The nearest agency is a hundred miles away.”
He nodded and when she pushed him to tell her his suspicions, he steadfastedly refused but assured her that if all went well, by the end of the weekend, she should finally know who was responsible for the trouble at Lovelink.
Although discovering who was behind it all had been an important reason for her agreeing to go along with the plan, she had to admit that paramount in her mind was the thought that she’d been able to spend some more time alone with Marcus. Painfully, she’d accepted that all too soon now he’d make his relationship with Lucinda more permanent. Hadn’t his statement last night only been further proof of that? When he’d a wife to share his time with, there’d be precious little to spend with Vicky. Knowing this she’d therefore vowed to treasure the time they were together until that day so that later when she was alone she’d be able to hold her memories close to her heart for comfort.
“There’s no time for daydreaming, Vicky. We’ve got some villains to catch,” Marcus laughed, striding across the courtyard towards her.
She blushed, feeling as embarrassed as if he could read her very thoughts.
Across his shoulder he carried a large holdall. When he reached her side, he caught her hand and marched her across the Nuneton grounds in the direction of her cottage. They’d agreed late last night that this would be the best approach as they’d be less likely to be seen from the main road. Feeling his strong hand clasping hers, she felt her heart beating. This time the adrenalin that coursed through her body had nothing to do with the excitement of catching her tormentors.
“What have you got in the bag?” she asked, anxious to appear natural to him.
“This is going to provide us with all the proof we need to nail whoever’s been doing this to you.”
She couldn’t ask him for a fuller explanation as they were nearing the stone wall at the bottom of her garden now and she had to almost half run to keep up with him, so long and fast was his stride.
As she opened the back door, she tensed. She was beginning to expect trouble every time she entered her home now. The idea of someone coming to the house had frightened the life out of her. She’d even half expected something to have happened in the short period of time she’d been away from the cottage this morning. Would she ever be able to open her front door again and not experience the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she waited to discover some new atrocity? Somehow she wondered if she’d ever feel the same way about her home again.
As she glanced about her she was relieved to see that everything was just as she’d left it.
“That’s good. Nothing’s happened while I’ve been away,” she said, unaware she’d voiced her fears aloud to Marcus.
He covered the kitchen in a few steps and placing his hands on her shoulders, looked intensely into her eyes.
“Don’t worry, Vicky. Remember I’m here with you and I’m not going to leave. They won’t do anything ever again once we catch them.” He cupped her face in his hands and said, “It’ll be all right, you’ll see.”
She gazed into his blue eyes knowing finally that she could trust him. He made her feel so safe, so protected. Could he read in her eyes the love that surely shone there?
He took his hands away from her face and smiling, asked, “Now how about that cup of tea?”
She nodded and filled the kettle. He was so caring, just what she needed to get her through this. She wasn’t a naturally brave person and was scared stiff inside. Not that she was going to confess that to Marcus. She didn’t want him to think of her as weak.
“What exactly is in there?” she asked as he put the holdall on to the kitchen table.
Unzipping it he took out a pair of binoculars and a large camera.
“It’s my video camcorder. I intend to get as much evidence as possible against whoever’s doing this to you. I use it to film my horses when they’re racing or on the gallops. It’s very useful and it picks up sound as well.”
“What a brilliant idea. Much better than a camera,” she said, smiling.
He’d really thought of everything. Yesterday she’d had him marked down as an evil conspirator. Now she knew him to be as true a friend to her as Caroline had always been. If only there could be more to their relationship than just friendship but hadn’t he confessed to her only last night that he was in love? That could only be with one woman—Lucinda Dayton. The roller coaster that her hopes were continually riding on hit another nadir.
“What’s the best vantage point in the cottage?” he asked.
“I suppose the window on the landing at the top of the stairs gives the best all-round view.”
“We’ll sit up there then and wait.”
Once she’d made the tea, she carried the tray up the stairs to where he was already seated on an ottoman, which he’d dragged from her bedroom, the camcorder and binoculars placed carefully beside him.
“The waiting’ll be the worst bit. We can’t do anything that’ll attract attention. It could be a long time as they’ve struck mainly under the cover of darkness before,” he explained. “Not that I have any objections to being here alone with you.”
She smiled back at him, certain he was only trying to be nice to her to help keep her mind off her ordeal. Sitting down beside him on the ottoman, she took a sip of tea.
“Are you very disappointed not to be going home for the weekend?” he asked.
Pleased that he’d changed the subject to something safer, she said, “Yes, I am. It would have been the first time I’d been back home since I’d moved to Brookleigh.”
He raised an eyebrow and said, “Surely you get on with your parents?”
“Oh yes,” she said, emphatically. “But it’s not been easy for me to go back. You see, I…I left York after a broken engagement and I didn’t want to go home in case I bumped into Peter. As it was, I needn’t have worried. I met him in Churchton anyway.” She smiled at the irony of the situation.
“The man I saw you with that evening in the Ship and Shore pub? That was him?”
“Yes.”
“What a fool he was to let you go,” he said, slowly, gazing deep into her eyes.
She didn’t know how to answer him. He made her feel uncomfortable, seemingly to possess a knack of being able to read her mind. She was also afraid he’d somehow discover her feelings with disastrous and embarrassing consequences. However she was relieved when he thought he heard something and
stood up to look out of the window, carefully scanning the area with his binoculars.
“Nothing’s going on out there,” he said, settling back down onto the ottoman. “You know, I always try to avoid a broken heart.”
“Do…do you succeed?” she asked, frightened of hearing the answer, feeling an unjustified stab of envy towards any woman who might have shared his love, in the past or the present. She’d suspected he’d been through a painful experience when she’d first met him which had hardened his heart.
“There have been a few ladies to whom I’ve got close to but it’s always ended in the same way. I’ve found out sooner or later they’re more in love with my bank balance than they are with me.”
Vicky turned to look at him, recognising the familiar look of pain which haunted his eyes. How awful it must have been for him when he discovered people he cared for only wanted him for his money? she thought.
“When it happened the last time I vowed I wouldn’t let anyone get close enough again.”
It wasn’t going to be easy for her to talk to him about his feelings, not when she was certain he was now in love with Lucinda, not when Vicky loved him so much herself. But if there was just the slightest, slimmest chance he might one day return her feelings then she had to make him see how special love could be.
“Why, Marcus? Love can have its painful consequences but if you never open up your heart to it, then you can never experience any of its rewards either.”
He shrugged. “I know you’re right but there’s more to it than just that. I had this stupid notion. When my parents died and then directly afterwards Caro became ill, I was so frightened. It seemed everyone I ever loved, died. I suppose I blamed myself. I vowed then that the safest thing I could do would be to never love anyone again. Fear of losing them. Stupid, huh?” He smiled but Vicky could read the solemnity in his eyes.
She covered his hand with hers and said, “No, not stupid at all. Caring.”
He lifted her hand and kissed her palm, lightly. Her spine tingled, her eyes locked into his gaze.
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