'I trust you slept well, liebchen?
Liebchen! How dare he call her liebchen after what he had done to her last night! She felt degraded, insulted, and humiliated, and she would never forgive him for it. Never!
'I slept very well, thank you,' she replied tritely, avoiding his probing glance for fear that those razor sharp eyes might glimpse her pain and distress.
'I had a very good night as well, in case you wanted to know,' he informed her smoothly, and she had an uncommonly savage desire to claw out his eyes in an attempt to ease the pain and jealousy that seared through her.
'I'm not exactly interested.'
'Aren't you?'
The mockery in his voice sliced through her lie and pierced her soul. She had only herself to blame, but, oh God, what a price to pay for her folly.
'I have to go,' she said through stiff lips, pushing back her chair and getting to her feet before she made a complete fool of herself by bursting into tears.
'Before you go there is something you ought to know.' Fear, unreasonable and acute, was like an icy hand clutching at her heart, but somehow she turned to face him and steeled herself for whatever was to follow. 'Don't expect us home until late tonight. Chantal always plans a surprise meal for the evenings when we go out to the cottage, and in the past we seldom ate early.'
Relief and pain mingled and coiled itself into an unbearable knot at the pit of her stomach. She had no idea what she had expected, but she had a nagging suspicion she had feared she was going to be thrust out of his life. Perhaps that was what he had wanted her to think, and anger gave her the strength to face him coldly and calmly.
'Thanks for telling me, but don't expect me to wait up for you.'
His derisive smile was like the thrust of a knife in her heart. 'I never imagined you were the kind of wife who would be concerned enough to wait up for her husband.'
'In that case we understand each other perfectly,' she snapped icily, picking up her handbag. 'Enjoy your day.'
'I always enjoy the time I spend with Chantal, thank you,' his voice followed her as she left the room, and that knife in her heart was twisted with a savagery that would have made her cry out in agony had she not clenched her teeth until her jaw began to ache.
She crossed the hall, walking blindly, but a musical voice made her spin round as if she was no longer in control of her own body.
'Good morning,' Chantal smiled as she descended the stairs, and Cara felt a coldness invade her body which deadened all feeling.
The shaft of sunlight from the window above the door put fire into that shoulder-length chestnut hair, and her emerald green trouser suit enhanced the colour of her green eyes. Chantal Webber was beautiful. Her slender, perfectly proportioned body moved as if it spoke a sensuous language of its own, and Cara had no difficulty in discovering why Vince was so attracted to this woman. Together they were a striking couple, but at that moment Cara could not even conjure up a feeling of envy.
'Don't you regret your decision not to join us today?' Chantal asked, her high-heeled, calf-skin boots making no sound on the carpeted floor in the hall, and her calculating glance studying Cara intently.
'I have to work this morning, and that's all there is to it,' Cara replied, her voice abrupt and cool. 'Have a nice day.'
'Oh, we will,' Chantal laughed softly, and Cara wondered when she walked out of the house whether she had been mistaken in thinking she had heard a note of triumph in Chantal's laughter.
Cara got into her Mini and drove away from the house, but in her mind she could see Vince and Chantal having breakfast together. Were they talking together softly and intimately, and laughing about his frigid wife who had so uncaringly thrust them into each other's arms the night before?
A hot wave of pain and humiliation swept through her, and her hands tightened on the steering wheel until her knuckles shone white through the skin.
Damn Vince for stooping so low in his quest for revenge, and damn them both for what they did to her last night, she cursed them in silent fury, and then she cursed herself. The most idiotic thing she had ever done in her life was to fall in love with Vince. He was not worthy of such feelings, and she would not waste her time nurturing her love for him while knowing that he could never love her in return.
Cara could not concentrate on her work that morning. She stamped cards, assisted new members to join, and answered queries, but only a part of her mind was on what she was doing. She thought about Vince and Chantal at the cottage out on the farm, and she could imagine them strolling along the side of the river on this warm Saturday morning. Would they make love eventually on that comfortable bed she had seen in the bedroom, or would they prefer the carpet in front of the fire?
'That's right, Cara,' she told herself fiercely while she was shoving books into the shelves. 'Go ahead and torture yourself until you're wallowing in self-pity.'
She had to stop thinking and feeling. At breakfast that morning she had thought that every scrap of feeling inside her was dead, but she had been wrong. She was hurting again, and the pain was more intense than before.
It was a long morning, the longest she had ever encountered, and when at last she arrived at the house she found that she could not face the lunch Jackson had prepared for her. She could, of course, change her mind and drive out to the farm to spend the afternoon and the evening with Vince and Chantal, but common sense warned that her Mini was too old to risk such a journey. She changed into warm slacks and a sweater and sat down miserably on the bed. The silence in the house had never disturbed her before, but now it was driving her slowly mad, and she decided on an impulse to spend the afternoon and evening with her parents. It might not even be a bad idea to sleep there. Vince and Chantal would return late that night, but Cara could not bear the thought of spending another night in that house such as the one she had spent the night before.
She flung her toiletries, nightgown, a change of clothing into a small bag, and she scribbled a brief note to Vince which she left on the small cupboard beside the bed. Ten minutes later she was driving through town once again and heading towards her parent's home.
David and Lilian never questioned Cara as to her decision to spend the night with them. They simply took it for granted that Vince was away for the weekend, and Cara left it at that. It eased the hurt a little to be with her parents, but pain and depression took its toll that evening when they sat around the fire in the living-room. She found herself wondering what Vince and Chantal were doing, and the tears were suddenly much too close for comfort. She dared not cry in front of her parents. They would ask questions which she could not answer, and she was much too exhausted to put up a false front. Cara stared into the dancing flames of the fire and forced herself to think of something pleasant, but all she could see was Vince's sun-bronzed face.
She almost sighed audibly with relief when her mother announced at ten o'clock that she was going to bed. It gave Cara an excuse to do the same, but she was a little concerned about her father remaining alone in the living-room.
'I have work to do in the study,' he smiled at her as if he had read her thoughts, and they left the living-room together.
Cara followed her mother up the stairs, but on the top landing Lilian paused and placed a detaining hand on Cara's arm.
'John Curtis was here yesterday afternoon while your father was out.' Cara felt herself go cold as she waited for her mother to continue. 'He wanted to know about you and Vince, and he asked the oddest questions.'
'What sort of questions?' Cara prompted, holding her breath.
'Well, he wanted to know from me what I know-about Vince, and he also wanted to know why we allowed you to marry a man like Vince Steiner.'
Cara was fuming inwardly with annoyance, but outwardly she looked calm as she met her mother's perturbed glance. 'What did you tell him?' Lilian gestured expressively with her hands. 'I told him I didn't know more about Vince than anyone else knew, and your father and I couldn't very well stand in your way once you ha
d made your choice.'
If John was going to go snooping around, then Cara could foresee trouble ahead, but she kept this to herself. 'Was that all John wanted to know?'
'He asked if I thought that you loved Vince, and I told him that I presumed you did or you wouldn't have married him, but then,' Lilian laughed lightly, 'you have always been good at hiding your feelings.'
'John and I have been friends for a long time,' Cara tried to reassure her mother. 'He wasn't here when Vince and I were married, and it's only natural that he would be concerned for me.'
Lilian's features relaxed. 'I never thought of it that way.'
Cara felt disturbed by her mother's disclosure, but there was no sense in confronting John and making an issue of it, for it would merely increase his suspicion. She shrugged it off, and found comfort in spending the night in the room she knew so well. If she made the effort she could almost make herself believe that the past three weeks had been nothing but a bad dream, but that circle of gold on her ring finger was reality, however, and she could not escape the truth entirely. Neither could she escape the pain of knowing that she loved a man for whom she ought only to feel contempt.
Cara got into bed some time later and switched off the light, but she could not sleep. She toyed with the thought of taking a sedative, but she decided against it, knowing that she would wake up in the morning with a headache. The house was quiet, almost too quiet, and she found herself holding her breath as if she expected something to happen. Would Vince find her note, or would he go directly to Chantal's room without checking? Cara shifted about restlessly in bed in an attempt to shake off the pain and misery, and she went to sleep at last from sheer exhaustion.
She slept so soundly that she never heard her bedroom door opening and closing, and neither did she stir when the bedside light was snapped on. She was awakened only when a heavy hand descended on her shoulder to shake her, and she raised her heavy eyelids to find Vince standing next to her bed.
'Oh, you're home,' she muttered sleepily, turning over on to her other side when the light hurt her eyes, but the next instant she was wide awake to the fact that this was her parent's home and not Vince's. She shot up in bed, her eyes wide with fright as she clutched the covers about her. 'What are you doing here?' she demanded, her voice lowered and husky.
'I've come to take you home,' Vince informed her brusquely, and she wrenched her eyes from the blazing anger in his glance to consult the bedside clock.
'Do you realise it's almost midnight?' she whispered incredulously.
'Get up and get dressed,' he commanded harshly, his big hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as if he were tempted to wrap them about her throat, and a shiver of fear raced along her spine.
'Are you crazy?' she croaked valiantly, but she regretted it the next instant when Vince leaned over her with his hands pressing into the bed on either side of her body.
'Why did you tell your parents I was away for the weekend?' he demanded in a low, harsh voice, and she could almost feel the anger vibrating through the length and breadth of him.
'I never told them anything of the sort,' she denied indignantly, but she could not ignore that faint stab of guilt. 'When I asked if I could stay the night they took it for granted that you were away.'
'And you never bothered to tell them that it wasn't so?'
She looked away from his cold, piercing eyes and, to her dismay, felt the sting of tears behind her eyelids. 'Oh, go away and leave me in peace.'
Hard fingers gripped her chin and turned her face up to his to meet the searing fury of his glance. 'You're going to sleep in my house, in my bed, and nowhere else! Do I make myself clear?'
'And while I'm sleeping in your bed, Vince, where will you be sleeping?' she demanded with a burst of courage which had emerged from her deep misery. 'In Chantal's. bed?'
His mouth tightened into a thin, cruel line which frightened her, and in one sweeping movement he pulled the covers aside and jerked her out of bed so that she stood trembling on the carpet in front of him. His hands were biting savagely into her bare shoulders, and she had to catch her quivering lip between her teeth to prevent herself from crying out.
'Get dressed!' he hissed through his clenched teeth, releasing her at last, and she stood for a moment examining the red marks against her skin which she knew would be ugly bruises in the morning.
'You hurt me,' she complained.
'You're lucky I haven't thrashed you,' he countered bitingly, bringing his face so close to hers that she could see the stubble of beard along his jaw. 'Now get dressed!'
To protest would be futile; one look at his face told her so, and she turned meekly towards the wardrobe to haul out her clothes. She took off her nightie and pulled on her slacks and her sweater. She could feel Vince's eyes boring into her, but she was suddenly too tired to care.
'How did you get into the house?' she dared to question him while she packed the rest of her things into the overnight bag.
'Your father was still in his study.'
Cara picked up her brush to pull it through her hair a few times, then she paused in alarm, and swung round to face Vince. 'What am I going to tell him?'
A cynical smile played about Vince's mouth. 'I have already made the necessary excuses for you.'
'Oh?' Her alarm spiralled. 'May I know what you said?'
'I told him that I have brought home with me a female guest and, naturally, it would not look right if we spent the night alone in the house without you.'
Cara stared at him in momentary silence, her glance taking in the arrogant tilt of his head, and that hint of triumph in the cynical smile curving his mouth. He had lied to her father, but his lie had been laced so strongly with the truth that she could almost admire him, and quite suddenly she had a strange desire to laugh a little hysterically.
'How very clever of you,' she murmured when she had succeeded in controlling herself, and she turned from him to thrust her brush into her bag.
'Is this all?' Vince asked abruptly, taking her overnight bag from her when she had zipped it shut.
'Yes.'
'Right.' His hand gripped her elbow as if he suspected she might try to escape from him. 'Let's go.'
CHAPTER SEVEN
Vince's face was expressionless when he ushered Cara down into the hall. Her father was still in his study, she could see the strip of light beneath the door, but she did not blame him for choosing not to confront Vince again.
Cara shivered when the cold night air hit her tired body moments later, and Vince's hand was like a steel strap beneath her elbow when he propelled her towards his Mercedes.
'What about my car?' she questioned him agitatedly.
'I'll send Jackson to collect that rattle-trap of yours in the morning,' he said abruptly, opening the door on the passenger side of the Mercedes and bundling a very indignant Cara into the front seat.
How dare he call her Mini a rattle-trap! The desire to defend her faithful little car stormed through her, but she had time for rational thought while Vince walked around the bonnet of the car to the driver's side, and she had to admit to herself, albeit reluctantly, that he had spoken the truth. Her second-hand Mini was actually no more than a rattle-trap, and if she had not thought so herself, then she would have driven out to the cottage that afternoon instead of reacting to the crazy impulse to spend the night with her parents.
Vince did not speak while he was driving, and in the dashboard light the harsh angles and planes of his features did not encourage conversation. She sat quietly with her hands clenched in her lap, and tried to understand why he had gone to the trouble of fetching her, but she was nowhere close to a reasonable explanation when they arrived at his home.
He carried her bag into the silent house, his hand once again clamped beneath her elbow and making her feel like a prisoner. He switched off the lights in the hall before they climbed the stairs, and Cara suddenly nursed a crazy fear of coming face to face with Chantal. She could not bear it if she
had to confront that woman now; she was too vulnerable, and it would be too humiliating. There was no sign of light beneath Chantal's door, but Cara did not relax entirely until she was in the comparative safety of the master bedroom.
Vince dumped her bag on the floor at the foot of the bed, but he made no attempt to leave the room. He stood with his hands on his hips, his arrogant head lowered a fraction, and a brooding intensity in the way he observed her. It made her feel jittery, and her hand was shaking when she raised it to flick her hair back over her shoulder. What did he want? Why was he looking at her so oddly? Cara knew a sudden desire to escape when she thought of spending another night like the one before, and her insides knotted with tension and anger.
'I presume Chantal is keeping her bed warm for you, so there is no need for you to hang around, Vince,' she broke the awful silence between them, and it was as if she had put a match to a fuse.
'Let's get one thing straight!' he exploded savagely, lessening the distance between them in one long stride. 'I went to Chantal's room last night to teach you a lesson, but I never touched her in the way you think.'
Relief washed over Cara like a jet of cool water on a scorching summer's day, but an element of doubt lingered stubbornly in her mind, and when she thought of how she had suffered she erupted furiously. 'You surely don't expect me to believe that, do you?'
His jaw hardened, and she could not be sure, but it seemed as if he had gone a shade paler about the mouth. 'I'm not that much of a bastard that I'll make love to another woman with my wife's knowledge.'
'And what about today?' she asked scornfully, turning away from him. 'You had all day alone with her to make up for last night.'
The Devil's Pawn Page 10