by Penny Jordan
CHAPTER EIGHT
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Holly dressed for lunch in the red dress that showed off her petite figure, and heightened the impact of her dark hair and pale skin.
She wore the pearl ear-rings which had been a twenty-first present from her parents, and the slim gold bangle which had been her coming-of-age gift from her brother, as though somehow these symbols of parental and fraternal love would give her courage and protect her.
Protect her? From Drew? No, from herself. She shivered again, conscious of how very close she had come to making a fool of herself. How embarrassed Drew would have been if she had broken down and confessed her change of heart. Thank goodness she had been able to stop herself in time.
The early morning mist had cleared to reveal a pale blue sky from which the sun shone brightly, but with very little warmth.
As they drove to Nantwich, the hollows untouched as yet by the sun rimed with frost, Holly decided she was glad she had brought with her the jacket to wear over her dress.
As she watched the scenery flash past she remembered how Drew had looked at her when she came downstairs: there had been an odd look in his eyes, something that had made her heart kick frantically in her chest, and her nerve-endings tighten.
'We'll be in Nantwich soon now,' Drew told her. 'You know, of course, that the "wich" part of the town's name derives from Roman times and the salt they extracted from the area.'
'Yes. Nantwich, Middlewich and Northwich were all Roman salt towns, weren't they?' Holly agreed.
It had been some years since she had visited the small town, and she was impressed by the influx of attractive shops that Drew's mother pointed out to her when they met the other couple at the designated spot.
After a brief walk round the town, Drew announced that it was time to drive to the manor house where they were having lunch.
As they walked back to the cars, Holly reflected that Nantwich could very probably be the right venue for the new shop. It had an ambience she had instantly liked, and the proximity of Rookery Hall, with its exclusive clientele, plus the influx of attractive small shops, added up to a very favourable impression.
If Drew's stepfather was right in saying that prices in the area were still very reasonable, she could well have found a home for the new outlet. And for herself? That was something else she would have to consider. A property that was two- or even three-storeyed would be ideal, and she could perhaps even combine her home with potential showrooms, for those clients who were genuinely interested in using their services.
She was so busy mulling over all the salient facts that she didn't realise they had reached the Range Rover until Drew said drily, 'Come back, Holly. We're here.'
She flashed him an apologetic smile, remembering how irritated Howard had always been by her enthusiasm for her work, but there was no anger in Drew's eyes, only an amused acceptance.
'I'm sorry. I hadn't realised how much Nantwich had changed. I was getting carried away with my mental plans.'
'You think it will be a good venue, then?'
'Yes. Especially if property prices are reasonable.' She chewed on her bottom lip. 'If I could, I'd like to buy the property myself… as my contribution to my partnership. I don't know if it could be done, though.'
'That's something you'll have to talk to James about. He's well up on the kind of business loans that are available.'
It wasn't far to Rookery Hall, and Holly, who had never visited the restaurant before, caught her breath in pleasure as they drove toward the house.
Set in its own grounds, and converted by the enthusiasm and hard work of its present owners into an exclusive small hotel and restaurant, it had the reputation of providing gracious and comfortable surroundings to the discerning diner.
They were made very welcome by the head waiter, and shown to a table with a marvellous view over the grounds. Menus were handed to them, and Holly's eyes widened a little as she studied hers.
The very attractive dining-room was virtually full, the other diners in the main being family groups: parents and grandparents with well-dressed, slightly subdued children, no doubt warned to be on their best behaviour, Holly reflected, smiling as she caught the eye of one little blonde cherub in a smocked velvet dress with white collar and cuffs.
A waiter appeared to take their order. Drew's mother leaned across the table to compliment Holly on her dress, and as she did so a foursome was shown to a table several feet away from their own.
Out of the corner of her eye, Holly caught a glimpse of Howard's familiar features and her heart sank, jealousy drowning out her pleasure in the day, as Rosamund detached herself from her parents and Howard, and came over to their table, smiling very prettily at Drew's mother and stepfather, and standing at their table in such a way as to have her back to Holly, and totally exclude her from the conversation.
Jealousy, like sharp knives, tore into her. She saw Rosamund reach out and touch Drew's arm, and she was appalled by the strength of her own desire to push the other girl away. Rosamund had no right to touch Drew, she was engaged to Howard… She ought to be with him, not over here, making eyes at Drew, speaking to him in that low, caressing voice that made Holly want to grind her teeth in anger.
She was talking about the countess's birthday party now, asking Drew if he was going, saying something about the possibility of her having to go without a partner, because Howard would be away on business with her father. She was actually all but inviting Drew to escort her, Holly realised fiercely.
Some women were like that, she knew, keeping their past lovers dancing on a string, reluctant to let them go, even though they had been supplanted. It was obvious to Holly that Rosamund was thoroughly enjoying flirting with Drew, and it wasn't for Howard's benefit, she acknowledged miserably, because he was deep in conversation with Rosamund's father, apparently oblivious to the behaviour of his fiancée. Why on earth didn't he look up, and come over and take Rosamund away? Why on earth didn't Drew send her away? Holly asked herself fiercely, totally forgetting the original purpose of her supposed involvement with Drew.
It was only the waiter arriving with their first course that reluctantly made her take her leave of them, but not until she had said coaxingly to Drew, 'Why don't we all have coffee together after you've finished your meal? Mummy was saying only the other day how long it is since she's seen you.'
Holly couldn't stand it. Without giving a thought to the consequences she placed her own hand on Drew's arm, only vaguely aware of its faint betraying tremble and the odd look Drew gave her, all her attention concentrated on Rosamund as she said huskily, 'Drew, darling, you promised me you'd show me the grounds after lunch.'
Rosamund glared at her and Holly held her breath, her pale skin flushing as she realised that everyone was looking at her, and that, moreover, what she had just said and done in no way fitted in with the plans that she and Drew had originally made.
Rosamund was jealous. She ought to be feeling pleased, to be congratulating Drew on his success, but all she could feel was an awful, burning ache, and a fierce desire to make Rosamund disappear, if possible for ever.
'I'm sorry, Rosamund. I did promise Holly a walk through the gardens. Perhaps another time.'
Defeated, Rosamund stalked off, but not before she had given Holly a furious look of hatred.
Bending her flushed face a little, Holly was thankful for Drew's mother's kind tactfulness when she said calmly, 'This soup is absolutely delicious. Do taste it, Drew, before it gets cold.'
Despite the calming effect of Drew's mother's presence, despite the businesslike conversation of James, his stepfather, as he discussed the pros and cons of Nantwich as a base for the business, Holly could not recover her earlier equilibrium.
All her pleasure in the day was destroyed by the fact that she knew that Rosamund was sitting not six yards away from them.
She was thankful that she had her back to the other group, but Drew did not, and she couldn't help wondering how many times Rosam
und managed to catch his eyes, and how much he was wishing he could be with the other girl. Not that he betrayed those feelings. He was too kind, too polite for that, but he must have them, none the less. Rosamund was the woman he loved. He must be aching to be with her. He must be cursing Holly for butting in with that possessive comment.
Rosamund was obviously jealous and resentful of their relationship, but jealous enough to break her engagement with Howard? And that was what Drew would demand. He was not the man to play second fiddle to someone else, no matter how much he loved Rosamund.
These and other gloomy thoughts possessed her as Holly tried to pretend she was enjoying the meal. All around her people were talking and eating, but she felt as though she were isolated in a pool of misery from which there was no escape.
Drew addressed several comments to her, but she could only respond to them in monosyllables, so convinced was she that he must be absolutely furious with her.
The day which had started out so well was turning into a disaster, and she could hardly believe it when she looked out of the window and saw that the sun was shining, for her own thoughts were so grey and unhappy.
She barely touched her main course, her stomach knotted in sick nerves of distress. She saw Drew look at her, and put down her knife and fork, starting to tremble. She had always hated rows and arguments, and as a child the very thought of someone being angry with her had been enough to make her physically sick.
It was something she thought she had outgrown, but now her stomach was churning desperately and she longed to be anywhere but in this restaurant alone in her misery while all around her people laughed and chatted.
'Holly.'
The sound of Drew's quiet voice made her tense.
'Holly, you don't look well. Is something wrong?'
He sounded so kind and concerned, she longed to burst into tears. He must know what was wrong. How guilty and miserable she felt!
She looked up and realised that not just Drew, but his mother and stepfather were also watching her with concern. She was spoiling their lunch, turning what should have been a pleasant occasion into something very uncomfortable. Taking a deep breath, she forced a bright smile and assured him, 'No… not really. I think it's just that my eyes were much larger than my tummy.' Deliberately not allowing herself to give in to the hovering ache of self-pity, she said brightly to Drew's mother, 'I'm really impressed with Nantwich. I think it will make an ideal base for the business. I'm dying to get Jan up here to see it.'
'And I'm dying to get your help and advice with our guest suite,' Louise surprised her by saying. 'I've been threatening to do something with it ever since we moved into the house, and so far I haven't. Now I've had a letter from Lucy saying that she expects to be able to fly home for Christmas and that she's bringing a friend with her.'
'A friend?' Drew asked.
'A young man she's known for some time, apparently,' his mother responded quellingly when he grinned. 'Naturally I don't want her to feel ashamed of us and her home.'
'Come off it,' Drew teased his mother. 'That's just an excuse and you know it.'
His mother looked faintly pink.
'Well, it does need redecorating,' she said defensively. 'And I was wondering if Holly could do something very special and clever with the bathroom.' She made a wry face and said to Holly, 'The one good thing about it is that the sanitaryware is white, but the bathroom itself is very dull and so is the bedroom. I've got several ideas I want to talk over with you. In fact, I was going to suggest I come out to the farm one day next week.'
Holly jumped at the opportunity to banish Rosamund from her thoughts and make up for her earlier lapse. She was free to see her any day she cared to choose, she assured Drew's mother.
'And it will give you an opportunity to see what I've done to Drew's kitchen.'
'Hang on just a minute,' Drew protested, looking with mock severity at his mother. 'I can't have you taking Holly away from her work… and besides, I was thinking of asking her to do something about my bathrooms while she's here. I'm afraid you're just going to have to wait in line, Ma,' he told her with a grin.
Holly's mouth opened in a round 'O' of surprise.
'You didn't say anything to me about your bathrooms,' she protested.
'No. Well, I was waiting to choose my moment,' he told her with a smile. 'I thought I'd try and get my order in before you open the new shop and become too expensive for me.'
'I haven't finished the kitchen yet,' Holly reminded him. 'You might not want me to do your bathrooms when I have.'
To her astonishment he reached out and touched her face gently, cupping her jaw in the warmth of his palm.
'That's my Holly,' he said softly. 'Always the self-doubter.'
Beneath his hand her skin burned and a tiny pulse started to beat frantically. Her eyes dilated and darkened, her body trembling with an inner yearning she was powerless to control.
She was completely oblivious to the complacent look Drew's mother exchanged with her husband, and to the sudden tension in Drew's body as he felt her response. She only saw that his eyes darkened and glowed as he looked at her, and that a slow and very male smile warmed their topaz depths. The light caress of his palm against her sensitive skin made her body tingle, and she was completely oblivious to everything but him.
'Drew, if you and Holly have finished your lunch, why don't you show her the grounds?' his mother suggested lightly.
Both of them turned to look at her, as though surprised to find her there with them.
'But Drew hasn't had his coffee yet,' Holly blurted out, suddenly shy of being alone with him.
'I'm sure he won't mind,' his mother responded with a dry irony that was lost on both of them.
'Yes. Come on,' Drew said, standing up and drawing her with him. 'And while we're out there I'll do my best to persuade you to give your magic touch to my bathrooms, before Ma tempts you away. So be warned,' he said to his mother.
'Do you really want me to redecorate your bathrooms?' Holly asked, breathless, as he led her outside.
'Yes, but not as much as I want to kiss you,' Drew told her in an odd, thick voice that made her stare at him in confusion and surprise, thus giving him the opportunity to draw her into the shelter of a stand of tall conifers.
'Drew,' she protested uncertainly, but he was already touching her, already drawing her against the heat of his body, his hands stroking her, his mouth caressing hers gently, and then with a sudden, fierce urgency that sent thrills of arousal piercing through her as she clung to him, and responded to the demanding heat of his mouth with reckless intensity.
One part of her mind recognised how well he had tutored her in that her mouth clung pliably and longingly to his, obeying its every command, sensitive and responsive to his touch in a way that she had never been to Howard's.
It was only when she opened her eyes, dizzy with desire and delight, that she realised that they were within full sight of the dining-room. Flushing, she tried to point it out to him, but he was still kissing her, tiny, cherishing kisses that teased her throat and face, making her so weak that she had to cling to him to prevent herself from falling down.
'Drew, no,' she murmured as he tried to turn her face and slide her mouth under his. 'Everyone can see us.'
She just managed to get the words out as his lips feathered tormentingly against her own, and it wasn't relief but disappointment that roared through her when he stopped kissing her and raised his head.
'Sorry,' he apologised huskily. 'But it just seemed too good an opportunity to resist.'
Instantly she went cold with shock and the realisation that he had been kissing her quite deliberately, knowing that they would be seen…that he had wanted them to be seen.
There was no reason at all why she should feel this sense of betrayal, she told herself sternly. In Drew's eyes, he was simply reinforcing the impression that they had agreed that they would create, simply making the most of the moment to deliberately encourage Rosamund
's jealousy.
And the other woman had been jealous. Holly had recognised that emotion in her immediately, probably because it so closely mirrored her own.
He hadn't kissed her because he desired her at all, and all that urgency and need she thought she had sensed within him had been either manufactured or the product of her own imagination. It wasn't Drew's fault she was feeling so hurt, so cheated. He hadn't meant to be unkind. He simply had no conception of how she felt about him, or how far she had strayed from the original path they had plotted out together.
No, he wasn't to blame for her present anguish. She was. She knew how she felt about him and she had known for some time. She swallowed hard and shivered. Instantly, Drew frowned.
'You're cold. That's my fault… I should have realised how chilly the wind is. Would you like me to go and get your jacket for you?'
Suddenly she ached to be alone, to be away from the disturbing effect of his presence. She nodded, numbly aware of the concerned look he was giving her. Was Rosamund having second thoughts, or was she simply angry because she considered Drew her exclusive property and resented him paying attention to anyone else? Would her anger be strong enough to make her break with Howard or…?
But she isn't good enough for him, Holly protested inwardly. She won't make him a good wife. She won't love him the way I would.
She tensed abruptly. What was she thinking? Was she really foolish enough to imagine, even in her most private thoughts, that she could be Drew's wife? What folly! What stupidity.
'If you walk down that path it will bring you out at a very pretty and sheltered fish pond. I'll meet you there, shall I?'
She nodded again, only half hearing Drew's words, so monstrous was her inner pain.
It struck her now as ironic to realise that the cause of her present misery was her imagined love for Howard. To look back at herself as the girl who had imagined herself in love with him was like looking down a long, distorting tunnel, and the person at the other end of it was so unfamiliar to her now that she could only marvel at her own naïveté and ignorance.