Payment in Love

by Penny Jordan

  ‘My parents fostered Kyle, and he lived with us for a considerable number of years.’

  ‘Mmm…so there isn’t any actual blood tie between you, then? I must say I was surprised when I learned that you were coming to stay with him, but then I suppose your parents must know what they’re doing. He certainly isn’t the kind of man I’d want any daughter of mine to move in with.’

  Before she knew how it had happened, Heather found that she was standing up, her whole body trembling with anger and resentment as she faced the other woman.

  ‘I’m not exactly sure what you’re trying to imply, Mrs Hartley,’ she heard herself saying in an angrily tight voice, ‘but quite frankly I think it’s time you left, before I say something I might regret.’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the woman that, whatever Kyle’s faults, he at least had never left a woman alone to bear his child, but just in time she caught the hasty impulse back.

  She knew from the way Vera Hartley glared at her as she left that she had made a lifelong enemy, but she didn’t care. She was still trembling in the aftermath of her shock at her own daring, and it was only when the other woman had actually driven away that Heather realised exactly what she had done.

  It was ironic, really, that she of all people should have leapt too quickly to Kyle’s defence. The woman hadn’t accused him of anything worse than Heather herself had thought about him at one time or another, and yet the resentment and fury she had felt at hearing someone else run him down and been so intense and real that they might almost have been as close as any true brother and sister.

  Although she didn’t want to stray too far from the house in case the phone rang, Heather spent a brief half-hour exploring what she could of the lovely formal Elizabethan gardens, the box hedges now covered thickly in crisp white snow.

  In the summer these gardens must be lovely. She caught herself up just as she found herself wishing she might be here to see it.

  She had fallen in love with the house and its setting, she admitted as she went back inside. There was something so warm and homely about it, an air of having been well loved and lived in, that lingered almost as noticeably as the mingled scents of potpourri and beeswax that permeated the air.

  It was gone three in the afternoon before she received the long-awaited call, and Heather knew the moment she heard her mother’s voice that the operation had been a success. Her mother cried and so did Heather; tears of thankfulness and gratitude.

  ‘The specialist says that, with luck, your father should be able to fly out to Portugal within a week. He’s still very woozy at the moment, and I’m going back to the guest house now, so I’ll see you later, after you’ve picked up Kyle.’

  They chatted for a few more moments, Heather telling her mother how lovely Kyle’s home was, and putting her mother’s rather obvious distraction down to the relief of knowing that her father’s operation was at last over. Even so, she would have expected her mother to express rather more interest in Kyle’s home; as it was, she seemed almost uninterested, almost as though Heather wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know.

  It was half-past three when she put down the receiver, and almost immediately the phone rang again.

  It caught her off guard to hear Kyle’s voice. Knowing that he was returning home so soon, she hadn’t expected to hear from him.

  ‘Your father?’ he questioned her tautly, without preamble. ‘Is the operation…?’

  ‘Over and successful,’ Heather responded, her own voice shaky as she recognised again how deep Kyle’s love for her parents was.

  ‘Thank God…’

  He was only echoing her own thoughts, and yet for some reason the deep resonance of his voice made her eyes sting with tears.

  ‘You’ll be at the airport to meet me?’

  ‘Yes, and then we can go straight to the hospital.’

  * * *

  Heather didn’t want to drive Kyle’s car for the first time in the dark, so after she had replaced the receiver she used the last half-hour of light in which to practise controlling the vehicle. It was an easy car to drive, light and responsive, and by the time she had driven up and down the drive several times, and neatly managed to reverse, she felt confident enough to turn off the engine and go back inside.

  Oddly enough, her favourite downstairs room was the one Kyle had shown her, the one he used as his own study-cum-library, and it was in here that she lit the fire and settled down to flip through the daily paper, which so far she had left unread.

  In addition to this room, the house had four other downstairs rooms, including a very lovely, south-facing drawing-room, decorated in soft peaches and blues, and a large formal dining-room.

  The other two, best described as a sitting-room and a snuggery, were equally delightful, but it was in here, where she only had to close her eyes to imagine Kyle sitting opposite her, that Heather felt most at home.

  Without being aware of it, her eyelids dropped, and the paper slid from her lap. It was the chiming of the grandfather clock outside in the hall that woke her, her shocked discovery that it was six o’clock making her rush upstairs to wash and change, before hurrying down again to have something to eat.

  The very last thing she wanted was to be late for Kyle’s flight. Hastily gulping down her hot coffee, she rang the airport to check that there were no delays. The paper was forecasting more snow, and it might be that Kyle’s flight would have to be diverted.

  Luckily, it seemed that so far Heathrow was clear of any fresh falls of snow.

  The Jaguar had such an efficient heating system that Heather suspected she would be more than warm enough simply wearing the soft cream silk shirt and the straight navy wool skirt she had changed into, but just in case the flight was delayed and she had a long wait at Heathrow she added a toning navy jumper, embroidered with panthers’ heads in a subtle silk-weave thread. The outfit had been an expensive one, but well worth every penny. She knew the navy contrasted well with the richness of the satin shirt, and that both threw into relief the lustre of her deep russet hair.

  She had taken more care than usual over her make-up, and the image reflected by her mirror was rather more sophisticated than she was used to seeing. Her high heels made her taller than ever, but not tall enough to match Kyle, she admitted wryly.

  She suspected that once she was working for him he would not look too kindly on her normal working ‘uniform’ of a tatty old track suit, and told herself that it was with this in mind that she was taking care with her appearance this evening, and nothing more.

  It was snowing again as she left the house, large, fluffy flakes that floated majestically down to earth. Luckily, by the time she reached the motorway, it had stopped.

  The temptation to drive faster than normal was something she subdued as she concentrated on controlling the powerful car, but even so she found that she reached London far sooner than she had expected.

  At Heathrow, it took her some time to park the car, and she told herself that the nervous butterflies dancing in her stomach were the result of this complicated manoeuvre and had nothing to do with the fact that she was here to meet Kyle.

  After checking the Arrivals board, she bought herself a cup of coffee and sat down to wait.

  The moment she saw him, her heart turned over in her chest. It was an illuminating and shocking sensation, and one that held her rigid at the side of the barrier, her mouth dry with shocked fear, her body taut with the information that her mind refused to accept.

  He came closer and she closed her eyes, willing the sensation of aching intensity to disappear. She could not feel like this about him, she would not allow herself to feel like this! She opened her eyes and, almost as though by magic, the feeling was gone. He was just Kyle, Kyle whom she had known for almost half her lifetime.

  ‘Heather, what is it? Your father…?’

  The harshness of his voice, the fierce way he gripped her shoulders, brought her back down to earth.

 
; ‘He’s fine,’ she assured him, pushing away from him. ‘How…how was your flight?’

  ‘Fine.’ He brushed her polite query aside impatiently. ‘Then what the hell is wrong? You looked so white, I thought you were about to pass out.’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong.’ Temper edged up under her voice. ‘I’ve always been pale-skinned.’

  She dreaded him pressing her any further. How on earth could she explain to him, or to anyone, in fact, that just for a moment as she’d looked at him, she had seen not the man she disliked and resented but instead a man whom she could very easily have loved? A man who aroused within her sensations she had never experienced for anyone else, sensations that were alien to her, and yet at the same time strangely familiar, as though in some past life she had known such a strength of feeling, and as though, too, Kyle himself was part of that shadowy, dim past.

  Sheer imagination, she told herself, scoffing at the fantasy of her thoughts, as she directed Kyle to where she had parked his car.

  It was only when his luggage was stowed in the boot and they were both inside it that she realised he expected her to drive. In the soft interior light of the car his face looked shadowed and drawn. Probably the result of too many late nights with the husky-voiced woman she had heard over the phone.

  He leaned back in his seat as she started the car, his head turned away from her, as though he wished to ignore her presence, and so, stubbornly, Heather refused to break the silence.

  It started to snow again as they reached the motorway, and she automatically dropped her speed. She felt Kyle turn to look at her and shift restlessly in his seat, and half expected him to demand that she stop the car so that he could take over.

  Instead, to her shock he said quietly, ‘You’re a good driver.’

  ‘For a woman, you mean?’ she taunted, trying to subdue the spurt of pleasure his words gave her.

  ‘No, that was not what I meant,’ he responded tersely. ‘Why is it that whenever I pay you a compliment, Heather, you throw it back in my face? Do you really detest me so much that you can’t even accept a few words of praise from me?’

  Was that how she seemed to him? She heard the tiredness in his voice and suppressed a faint sigh. As a child, she had grown up wary of his quick, clever tongue, and so she had taught herself to be mistrustful of everything he said. Now it seemed that she had been wrong.

  ‘Seen much of Hartley, have you?’

  She frowned and glanced at him, looking for signs of contempt, but his eyes were closed, his mouth a hard taut line.

  ‘No,’ she replied evenly, ‘although his mother did call round this morning.’

  ‘Ah…warn you off, did she? She’s very protective where her precious son is concerned.’

  The bitterness in his voice was understandable, Heather acknowledged, especially in view of his own early childhood.

  ‘I think it was more a recce than a warning-off exercise,’ she told him good-humouredly. ‘I must admit I don’t envy the poor girl who will eventually become her daughter-in-law.’

  ‘Does that mean you don’t have any ambitions in that direction yourself?’

  ‘After one meeting? Come on, Kyle!’

  ‘And yet you seemed ready enough to leap to his defence,’ he retorted smoothly.

  ‘He was very kind to me,’ she told him shortly. ‘Kyle, is it true what you said about him having an illegitimate child?’

  There was a hard silence and then he said coldly, ‘What are you trying to ask me Heather? If I lied?’

  ‘No. No, of course not. I know that you wouldn’t. It’s just that, sometimes, gossip can exaggerate.’

  ‘This wasn’t gossip. I know the girl concerned. She’s the daughter of some friends of mine. Only eighteen and barely out of school. Hartley deliberately encouraged her infatuation with him. The poor little fool thought he was going to marry her. Of course, he denies the whole thing, and she, poor kid, is left with a ruined reputation and a child she can’t bear to give up for adoption, when she’s barely more than a child herself.’

  It was a pitiful story, although not particularly uncommon, and Heather’s tender heart ached for the other girl.

  ‘As she’s so young, perhaps it would be better for her if she moved away…had a fresh start.’

  ‘That’s what her parents would like her to do. They’ve offered to adopt and bring up her child, but the silly little idiot believes that he’s going to go back to her. She’s infatuated with him, as only an eighteen-year-old can be infatuated.’ He frowned and glanced thoughtfully at her. ‘You must have gone through that stage yourself?’

  Had she? She must have done, but she couldn’t remember it. Her hatred of Kyle had taken up so much emotional space in her life that there hadn’t been any room left for anything else…or anyone else.

  She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, frowning to herself. Had it really been like that? Had she really been so obsessed with Kyle that he had occupied all of her mental and emotional energy? Had resenting him really taken over so much of her life?

  ‘I suppose I must,’ she agreed carelessly.

  ‘But in your case, without any lasting damage?’

  She felt that he was pushing her to admit something, but had no idea what. She shrugged her shoulders, her eyes narrowing slightly as she concentrated on the snowy road.

  ‘Obviously not.’

  ‘Tell me, Heather, how many men have there been in your life since that first one?’

  She was glad she was concentrating so hard on the road, otherwise she must surely have betrayed her shock. She willed herself not to look at him, nor to demand to know what business her personal life was of his.

  ‘You can’t honestly expect me to answer that,’ she countered instead.

  ‘Why not? If you were to ask me the same question, I’d answer it.’

  ‘You mean you can remember them all?’ she demanded drily.

  She heard him laugh. ‘You’ve been paying too much attention to the gossip columns. I could count on the fingers on one hand the number of serious emotional attachments I’ve had, and still have fingers over to spare.’

  He was waiting for her to make some sort of response, but she had no idea what to say. The very thought of admitting to Kyle that, not only had there been no serious attachments, but also there had not been any physical attachments, made her skin shiver with goose-bumps.

  ‘I… Oh, isn’t that the sign coming up for our turn-off?’ she questioned him thankfully, glad of a legitimate means of changing the conversation. ‘I don’t want to miss it, otherwise we’ll be late for visiting time.’

  ‘Your father’s allowed open visiting hours, surely?’ Kyle challenged, but to her relief he made no further attempt to direct their conversation into more personal channels.

  * * *

  They arrived at the hospital just as the nursing staff changed over. A small, smiling nurse directed them to her father’s room. Although he was still wired up to a drip and monitoring machine, already his skin had a much healthier hue. Her mother stood up and rushed over to hug them both, tears thickening her voice as she welcomed them.

  Heather stepped back for a moment as Kyle embraced her mother, unsure if she really wanted to probe the sensation of jealousy darting through her. Not jealousy of her mother’s obvious love for Kyle, but jealousy of the look of concern and love in Kyle’s eyes for her mother. Just for a moment she wished she was the one in his arms, that she was the one being comforted with the security of his caring.

  Stop being so self-pitying, she chided herself briskly, turning away to give her father a final, lingering look before heading for the door.

  ‘Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.’

  Kyle’s quiet words of reassurance startled her, and she looked round, half expecting to see that her mother had followed them out into the corridor and that they were for her, they held so much understanding and compassion.

  But the corridor was empty apart from the two of them, and colour crawled betrayingly ove
r her throat as she remembered how acutely perceptive Kyle had always been. Had he seen the look of lonely envy in her eyes as she’d watched him comfort her mother? She turned her head away, unaware of the sudden weary compression of his mouth as he watched her silent rejection of his words of comfort.

  She had always been stubborn, yes, and proud too, and for a long time he had told himself that it was guilt and his love for her parents that had kept him away. But seeing her now, as a woman…

  He cut the thought off, not wanting to pursue it.

  ‘Come on, it’s time we were on our way.’

  Mutely, Heather followed him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HEATHER and Kyle had been inside the hospital just over an hour, but during that time an alarming amount of snow had fallen. Already the car park was completely white, a sharp, mean wind blowing the flakes into ominous drifts.

  One side of the Jaguar was almost completely white, and Kyle had to brush the snow away before they could get in.

  It was still snowing, and the temperature had dropped. The air was crisp and cold, their breath sending small clouds of vapour into the darkness. Every time they moved, the snow that had already fallen crunched noisily underfoot.

  ‘Would you prefer to drive?’ Heather asked Kyle, but he shook his head.

  ‘No, I’ll leave it to you. Jet lag,’ he added in explanation. He did look tired, she acknowledged, and oddly pale as well.

  The main roads had been gritted, and they were lucky enough to be travelling during a lull in the traffic. Neither of them spoke; Heather was too busy concentrating on her driving to make polite small talk.

  It seemed odd to be going home with Kyle, and yet it seemed right as well. Often during her teenage years he had picked her up from parties or dates. Then he had been the one driving, while she huddled resentfully in her head, keeping as much distance between them as possible. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shiver and automatically she reached out to boost the car heater.

  ‘Are you all right?’ The anxious words came out automatically.

  ‘I’m fine.’ He sounded so terse that she frowned again, sensing that he was lying.