by Liz Fielding
‘But it’s such a wonderful opportunity. Something you want to do, right here. Close to home…’
‘Yes.’ He hesitated. ‘How close do you think your mother will let me get to it?’
‘You do want to see her?’
‘I didn’t want to leave her, Rosie. I just couldn’t stay as things were. And I’ll tell you now that I won’t go back to teaching the piano to children who would rather be playing some computer game. Do you think she would even talk to me on that basis?’
‘Oh, yes, she said...’ She caught herself.
‘What?’ He was suddenly tense. ‘What did she say?’
Rose shook her head. ‘Just go and see her. Don’t ring. Don’t give her the chance to put on her armour.’
He laughed. ‘You think I should steal up on her and take her by surprise?’
‘It might work.’ She smiled a little. ‘And the doorbell is on the blink so you might as well give it a miss and use the french window,’ she advised.
His glance was penetrating. ‘I’ll bear that in mind. Now I’d better get back to the hotel before they lock me out. That is if they’ll let me in at all. I may be wanted as an accessory on a charge of assault.’
‘Dada! He wouldn’t!’
‘I think you could probably answer that question better than me.’ She shook her head and buried her face in his shoulder to hide the sudden sting of tears. ‘Can you ever forgive me for going away, Rosie?’
‘I…I’m just glad you’re back.’
And she was. But it wasn’t enough to prevent the emptiness rushing back the minute he had gone. She was still weak from the flu virus and the evening had drained her emotionally. In the space of an hour she had lost the man she had planned to marry for as long as she could remember. And the man she had fallen in love with at the touch of his lips on hers. A flashpoint he had called it. A moment at which violent trouble begins. He had been right about that at any rate.
Right now all that was left was to put the pieces of her life back together and carry on as best she could. Perhaps she would follow her father’s example and shake the dust of Melchester off her heels for a while. See a little of the world.
It didn’t really sound that much fun.
But the next day, she was sure that was what she must do. Julie had approached her diffidently, clearly expecting a rebuff. But she had no quarrel with Julie. She was certain she would make Anthony an excellent wife. She would not resent Mrs Harlowe, or living in the big house in the suburbs. She had had her romance. She had been widowed young and had a hard time bringing up two little girls on her own. Now she was settling for comfort and security. Exactly what Jack had accused her of doing.
Yet there was a glow about her and when Anthony came in later, he dropped a kiss on her cheek so easily and Julie had turned to him and said something that made him laugh. Something caught in her throat. No one was settling here. It was the real thing…
‘I hope you’ll be happy, Julie,’ she said. ‘I hope you both will.’ She found she meant it, sincerely.
‘Will you come to the wedding?’ she asked. ‘It’ll be a small affair. We aren’t waiting.’ She coloured. ‘There doesn’t seem any point.’
‘Julie, surely you don’t want me...’
‘It would make us both happy. And you’ll be working with Anthony. If you come, people will know that there are no hard feelings.’
Rose hesitated. She knew she had made up her own mind about Anthony, but they had been a couple for a long time and there was bound to be gossip. Julie was right. She had to go. ‘Of course I’ll come. When is the big day?
‘A week on Tuesday. I hope you can cope with the short notice?’
Rose managed to hide her surprise at the speed of things. ‘We’ll manage.’ She had planned to leave as soon as possible, but under these circumstances it would not be so easy. Julie knew almost as much as she did about running the branch. If they both went it would cause a major problem.
The bell on the front office door rang and Julie went to deal with the enquiry. She came back a moment later. ‘It’s an instruction for a country house sale, Rose. The vendor asked for you.’
‘Show him in here.’ She reached for a pad and pen and when she looked up Jack was standing in front of her desk staring at a photograph of Wickham Lodge with its newly acquired SOLD sticker. When he turned to face her, her hands flew to her mouth as she saw the stitches, the vivid bruise that darkened his cheekbone.
‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Are you pleased with your handiwork?’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…’
He sank into the chair in front of her desk. ‘Wrong answer, Rosie. I asked for a hundred percent and you certainly gave it that. For once in your life you did something you meant without holding anything back, without considering the consequences.’
Any guilt for the injury she had inflicted evaporated as he spoke. So he thought he’d won and he’d come to crow?
‘Don’t flatter yourself, Jack,’ she said, briskly. ‘I used to do things like that all the time. Ask my father. He could keep you amused for hours. Once, when I didn’t practise for a concert and he wouldn’t let me go to a party, I poured glued down the back of the piano.’ She firmly ignored the tug of anger that Jack had been able to reduce her to such behaviour. Firmly ignored the longing to reach out and touch the swelling, somehow make it better, although that was harder. ‘I thought I had grown out of such stupid temper tantrums.’
‘You should never grow out of showing full-blooded emotion, Rosie…’ — he touched his face, gingerly — ‘although there are far more interesting ways of showing it. Something you’ll never discover if you run back to the safety of Harlowe’s arms. He’ll turn you into a dull middle-aged woman before you’re thirty.’
‘And you were ready to rescue me from that?’ she asked, hazel eyes sparking, dangerously.
‘You have a heart too big to settle for second best, Rosie. Yours is made for throwing your hat over the windmill, giving everything for one night that you would never forget.’ He picked up her hand and raised it to his bruised cheek. ‘The woman who did this last night was capable of passion on that scale. I liked her a whole lot more than the future Mrs Harlowe.’
She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip, forcing her to acknowledge the consequences of her passionate outburst. She met the challenge in his eyes. He thought he knew it all, but he’d never understand the sense of betrayal that had driven her to such anger.
‘Thank you for that vote of confidence, Jack,’ she said, cold as ice, ‘but I don’t think she’ll be troubling you again.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He turned her hand quickly and kissed her palm. She jerked free as if stung.
‘Don’t…’
‘You’re really prepared to settle for a man you don’t love in return for a soft billet?’ His eyes were unsparing now, his voice edged with steel and she looked away, refusing to answer him, to admit that he had been right. ‘Soft beds are bad for the spine, Rosie. In the long run they do far more damage than sleeping on a hard floor.’
‘And is that what you are offering, Jack? A one-night stand on a hard floor? Surely a man of your apparently vast means could at least run to a bed?’
He shook he head. ‘I had to know if you really wanted me, or just someone with a bigger wallet than Anthony Harlowe.’
‘Well, now you know.’
‘Yes, I suppose I do. What nasty little jinx brought you to the Napier last night, Rosie? When I talked to Sarah on Monday, she told me you were staying with your mother until the weekend.’ He glared at her as if she was somehow at fault, then, exasperated, ‘I would have loved you to come to the party. It was to introduce everyone to Rich and I wanted to surprise you both.’
‘No complaints, then. Total success.’
‘You think?’ He threw up his hands. ‘At least I achieved the reunion. And I think most of the guests would vote it the most entertaining thrash of year, even without the guest of h
onour. They particularly enjoyed the floor show.’
‘I changed my plans,’ she said, ignoring his jibe, slipping in one of her own. ‘I was at the Napier to meet Anthony.’
‘Anthony?’ She had shocked him and was glad of it. ‘So where was he when you were intent on murder?’
‘I never meant to hurt you, Jack.’
‘No? Just plaster me with that disgusting gloop. God help me if I ever do something to make you really angry.’
She exploded. ‘You did make me really angry, Jack. You demanded that I turn my life upside-down for you. You’re still doing it. And what are you offering in return?’ She held her finger and thumb half-an-inch apart. ‘That much. No thank you.’
‘Aren’t you forgetting a long weekend when I never left your side?’ he said, very quietly.
Her temper subsided as quickly as it had erupted. ‘I haven’t forgotten. I shall never forget. You were...kind.’
‘Kind?’ He glared at her. ‘I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, by a lot of women. Kind never figured very prominently.’
‘I meant it...’ She faltered under a scowl intensified by his battered face.
‘Kindly?’ he offered, with biting sarcasm. ‘We’ll have to see if we can improve on the quality of your adjectives. Don’t think I’ve given up on you, Rosalind Parry.’
‘Then you should,’ she snapped back. ‘I bumped into your singer at the Napier, Jack. She was most enthusiastic about you. Perhaps you should redirect your efforts in a more receptive direction.’
‘The favour was offered, Rosie, and declined with thanks. She’s a talented singer and worth a contract without the expected ritual sacrifice.’
‘How very...’ She was going to say kind again, but the warning look was unmistakable. ‘...noble.’
‘Good God, it gets worse. I’m not noble and right now I feel very far from kind. I simply prefer not to complicate business arrangements with meaningless sex.’
‘Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, this is my place of business. Unless you have some commission that comes under that heading, I suggest you leave right now.’
‘In your case, Rosie, I might be prepared to make an exception.’ He didn’t wait for a response. ‘Tell me, when is the wedding? Did you say sometime in May?’
She hesitated, almost too long. His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘A week on Tuesday,’ she said, quickly. Not a lie, she told herself.
‘It’s been moved forward?’ he asked, rising to his feet, startled out of his easy assurance.
‘There didn’t seem any point in waiting,’ she parroted Julie, dully.
A muscle began to work at the corner of his mouth. ‘Then you don’t have much time to indulge in a little fun before you settle down with that overstuffed bore. Since you have no intention of altering your plans, presumably that was what you had in mind when you threw yourself at me in your mother’s drawing room?’
Her face flamed. ‘That’s despicable, Jack.’
‘Is it?’ His eyes scalded her. ‘You can’t have it both ways. You’re going to have to make a decision and you don’t have much time.’ He reached for her. ‘Shall I remind you what you’re giving up?’
She leapt to her feet, backing away from him. ‘Just go away, Jack. Go away and leave me alone.’
‘Not a hope, sweetheart,’ he said, his voice grating against her nerves. ‘No reason to change the agenda just because our wires got scrambled. What do you say?’
She swung her hand, but he caught it and jerked her close. ‘The message came through loud and clear the first time, Rosie. Don’t labour the point.’
‘Then why aren’t you listening?’ she demanded, desperately close to tears.
‘I am. You should try it yourself some time.’ She tried to wrench her wrist free, but he resisted her efforts without difficulty and turned to the photograph on the wall. ‘But we’ll do it your way if you insist. Put the Lodge back on the market,’ he said. ‘All viewing to be accompanied by the agent. And you, Miss Parry, will do the accompanying.’
‘Go to hell!’
He tutted. ‘Such language. What would that nice Mr Harlowe say? Shall we ask him?’ Their eyes locked, sparked, finally she lowered her lashes, giving way before his insistent gaze.
‘What price are you asking?’ She was trying desperately to block out the scent of his skin, the hard line of his mouth at the level of her eyes.
‘I’m open to offers, Rosie,’ he said, his lips twisting insolently. ‘In fact, when it comes right down to it, I’m prepared to take anything I can get.’ His mouth brushed hers and for a moment she swayed, shivered against him. Then she managed to wrench herself free.
‘Get out! Now!’
‘This is no way to treat a client, Rosie. I might have to complain to—’
‘He’d understand,’ she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
‘Would he? That the woman he’s about to marry comes apart at the seams whenever I touch her? Are you sure? Perhaps I should do the poor sap a favour and tell him myself.’
‘Don’t you dare!’
‘I warned you once, Rosie, that I would dare anything for something I wanted.’ His fingers traced the curve of her jaw, sending a tremor through her. ‘Doesn’t it occur to you, Rosie, that you’re not being fair to the man?’
‘What do you know about being fair? Anthony...understands.’
‘Does he?’ His mouth twisted a little. ‘How convenient for you. Frankly, I don’t.’ He nodded, briefly and turned to go. ‘I’ll expect you this afternoon to measure up. Four o’clock.’
‘That won’t be necessary.’ Her voice stayed him. ‘We already have details on the house on our computer.’
‘I’m the client. I’ll decide what’s necessary.’
‘If you insist, but it won’t be me. I already have an appointment at four,’ she said, with considerably relief.
‘Have you?’ He glanced down at her open diary and read the name and telephone number pencilled in for the four o’clock appointment. He picked up the phone and punched in the number.
‘Jack!’ she protested.
He ignored her, holding her back when she would have intervened, and was forced to listen in impotent rage as he rearranged her schedule. He replaced the receiver. ‘Three o’clock suits the lady just as well. Shall I make the alteration in your diary, or will you?’
‘How dare you interfere?’ she whispered.
‘I warned you, Rosie,’ he reminded her, simply. ‘I’ll expect you at four. Don’t be late.’
Julie glanced at his retreating figure as she brought Rose a cup of tea. ‘Wasn’t that the man who played—’
‘—the saxophone. Yes. It seems he wasn’t quite what he seemed.’ He’d warned her about that, but she hadn’t taken any notice. ‘Wickham Lodge is back on the market,’ she said, firmly changing the subject.
‘Oh? Well, there was another couple interested,’ Julie said. ‘But Mr Drayton moved so quickly and he didn’t need a loan…was that him?’ she asked, as the light suddenly dawned.
‘Yes,’ she confirmed, without explanation. ‘Maybe the other people will still be interested. Give me the file and I’ll ring them now.’ If they were, she might never have to go out to the Lodge and face Jack Drayton again. She pulled a face. It couldn’t possibly be that easy.
‘They wouldn’t go to the price he paid,’ Julie warned her.
‘I have a feeling he’d not over-bothered about the price. He’s open to offers…’ Anything he could get…except he hadn’t been talking about the house. They had both known that. She sank back into her chair. ‘But I’m afraid people will think there’s something wrong with the house when it’s back on the market so soon.’
‘I did hear something about a leaking shower. But surely that wouldn’t...’
‘Julie!’ The woman’s enthusiasm was almost too much to bear. ‘You’re getting married in a few days. Haven’t you got something better to do than worry about other people’s houses?’
‘It’s all under control,’ she replied. ‘I’m dress-hunting with my sister at the weekend and Mrs Harlowe is taking the girls out this afternoon to buy them new outfits. I’ve arranged to have my hair done. Is there anything else?’
‘Honeymoon?’ she suggested, weakly.
‘We’re going to Scotland.’
Rose raised her eyes. ‘Scotland? In March?’
Julie’s eyes danced with mischief. ‘Does it matter where we go?’
For a moment she thought of Jack with his hard floor and a sudden wave of longing shook her. ‘No, Julie. I don’t suppose it does.’
* * *
He was waiting for her when she arrived on the dot of four o’clock. She hadn’t known quite what to expect. Flirtatiousness perhaps, but she had been prepared for that, layering on the emotional armour as she had driven out to Wickham, reminding herself of every stupid remark, every foolish action since he’d walked into her life. Of every hurtful thing he had said about her motives for marrying Anthony.
Then he opened the door and none of it mattered. If he had put out a hand, offered half a smile, she would have forgiven him.
Too easy.
‘Shall we start upstairs?’ he began, without preamble.
‘Whatever you say…’ She caught herself, half expecting the usual teasing remark in response. There was nothing, just a cool stare. To her intense chagrin she found herself colouring and turned abruptly away to lead the way up the stairs, opening the first door she came to.
His bedroom.
She cleared her throat, self-consciously. ‘Master bedroom with en suite bathroom,’ she read from her details. ‘Do you want to check the room sizes?’
I want to check everything,’ he said. ‘Would you like me to help?’
‘You’ll have to,’ she replied. She would normally have brought a junior to assist her on this kind of job, but clearly they would have thought her quite mad. ‘Will you take the tape, please.’ They solemnly re-measured the room and she noted the dimensions on her pad. ‘Amazing. It’s the same as last time.’ She wound in the tape but he didn’t let go and she physically jumped as her fingers brushed his.