by Helen Brooks
'Oh, a compliment, definitely…' He was standing in a shaft of light from the window, and she noticed, before she could shut her mind off from such dangerous thoughts, that he must have shaved recently; his skin was smooth and clean along the hard line of his jaw; it would be silky to the touch.
'I'd better go and change.' As her eyes focused on his she saw a dark heat in their grey depths that reminded her that she had hardly anything on. 'I won't be a minute.'
'Relax, Miriam.' His voice was lazy and confident and she didn't like the way it sent overt little shivers flickering down her spine. 'You're more than decent and I have been with women who were far less clothed without leaping on them. Make us both a drink and then I'll fix some toast while you get changed, OK?'
'You will?' She didn't hide her astonishment quickly enough.
'I will,' he reiterated, with that elusive smile that was so devastating because of its rarity. 'I can actually make toast.' He eyed her sardonically. 'I do quite a mean breakfast, as it happens.'
The wicked gleam in the silver eyes told her that he had set her up for the thought that immediately followed and she flushed hotly as she busied herself filling the kettle and spooning coffee into two china mugs. She just bet he could do breakfast, she thought with bitter jealousy as she wondered how often he had cooked for the woman of the moment. If there was one meal he would be an expert at it would be that one. She filled the mugs savagely.
'I think that's melted.' His dark voice brought her back to the present with a little jolt and she realised that she had been stirring the coffee furiously for a good thirty seconds.
'Sugar and milk?' She glanced at him obliquely, keeping her face and voice bland.
'No, thanks.' He laughed softly, his face sardonic. 'And do go and change if my presence makes you so nervous.'
Nervous? He thought that she was nervous? She wasn't sure if relief dominated the rage his easy assurance produced. Half of her was unutterably thankful that he hadn't guessed her true feelings and the other was furious that he seemed so unmoved when she was a quivering wreck. She drew herself up icily to her full five feet eight inches and fixed him with a cold, blank stare.
'Don't flatter yourself,' she said tightly as the black brows rose mordantly at her coolness. 'I'm just not used to entertaining men in my nightclothes at seven-thirty in the morning, that's all.' She gathered up her clothes and make-up bag in one swoop and marched purposefully to the door. 'Unlike the ladies you normally associate with,' she added for good measure as she banged the door shut behind her and escaped to the bathroom at the end of the corridor on winged feet.
By the time she had showered and changed she was feeling a little more in control. She dressed quickly in jeans and a warm jumper before looping her shiny, silky hair into a high pony-tail at the back of her head and applying a brief touch of mascara to her long dark lashes. There. She glanced at herself in the ancient, misty mirror before leaving the bathroom. If he wanted a glamour puss he could go and find Sharon, but as far as she was concerned this was Miriam Bennett—the original 'what you see is what you get'. She squinted unhappily at the frowning reflection. Or didn't, in his case.
'Scrambled eggs on toast all right?' He turned as she entered the room and her senses went into hyper-drive. He had discarded his coat and jacket and was standing at her minute stove in his shirt-sleeves, stirring the saucepan full of egg while keeping an eye on the toast.
The domestic picture was more than her beleaguered nerves could take and the fact that he looked more gorgeous than any man had the right to at eight o'clock in the morning didn't help. He was doing this on purpose.
She eyed the masculine back suspiciously as she deposited her make-up bag on a shelf. She had agreed— with hindsight, foolishly—that she was physically attracted to him, and this was his way of emphasising what she was missing by sticking to the principles he found so ridiculous.
'Stop frowning,' he said darkly without turning round.
'I wasn't—' She stopped abruptly. She was.
'Honest to the last.' She heard him sigh deeply before whisking the saucepan off the stove, buttering several slices of toast and depositing the lot onto two plates that he had warming on the grill. 'Come and eat this before you explode with self-righteous wrath,' he said mildly as he pushed a plate towards her before seating himself on one of the two stools at the tiny breakfast bar that served as her dining room. 'I have no ulterior motive in being here beyond not wanting you to end up under a lorry,' he added drily as she gingerly took the plate he'd offered. 'Will you please believe that and let us eat this meal in harmony?'
'All right.' She loved him too much to care one way or the other, she thought suddenly as she gave him a radiant smile before she realised what she was doing and seated herself on the other stool. He froze for a long moment before letting the breath out through his teeth in a long hiss and applying himself to the meal.
'Having said that, the situation could alter rapidly if you look at me like that again,' he warned mildly as he glanced at her from under sardonic brows.
He smelt delicious. And he had never been more dangerous than now in this strange mood. 'Like what?' she asked with careful blandness. 'It's OK to smile occasionally, isn't it?' He was too close, far, far too close, perched as they were on these ridiculous stools, she thought helplessly as he turned to face her, grey eyes narrowed, but she couldn't think of an acceptable excuse to move away.
'You smile a lot, don't you?' he drawled lazily as he reached for his coffee-cup and took a long drink, surveying her over the steaming mug thoughtfully. 'Do you really view life with such pleasure?'
'Pleasure?'
Careful, Miriam, careful, she thought weakly as a fierce dart of pain pierced her heart, stopping her breath for a moment. There had been more pain than pleasure lately and it was all down to him.
'I'm not some sort of wind-up doll that bleats happy phrases with a painted smile if that's what you mean,' she said quietly as she reached for her own cup, stirring the dark liquid again to give her hands something to do. 'I've had my share of heartache but I don't believe in wallowing in self-pity; it doesn't help anyone and it's self-destructive.'
Are you listening to this, Miriam? she asked herself with bitter irony as she glanced up. You're going to have to remember this conversation when the final goodbye is over.
'I asked you once if you'd ever loved someone—a man,' he said softly as she looked down into the swirling coffee again. 'And you never did give me a straight answer.'
'Didn't I?' She drew a long, shuddering breath as her mind raced. What could she say to him? How could she answer this? In the end the truth seemed simpler than trying to lie. 'I've been in love,' she said briefly. 'Unfortunately it wasn't returned so that was the end of the story.'
'Wasn't returned?' She dared not look at his face but his voice was odd, tight and strained. 'The guy must have been mad.'
He is, she thought blindly as she forced herself to pick up her knife and fork as though her world wasn't falling apart around her ears and eat the scrambled eggs on toast calmly, pushing the food painfully through the massive lump in her throat. Mad and wonderful and hateful and everything I want. She shrugged lightly but said nothing.
'And that experience didn't make you bitter, even for a time?' he asked after a long moment. 'If you thought you loved him—'
'I didn't think anything,' she said unsteadily as she climbed down from the stool and took her plate to the tiny kitchen area. 'I told you before, love is a real emotion that does exist. It isn't always comfortable, or even welcome, but that doesn't make it any less real. It would be nice if everything worked out exactly how we want it every time but life's not like that.'
'Miriam?' She hadn't been aware that he had followed her but now, feeling his hand on her shoulder, she steeled herself to show no emotion as she turned to face him. 'You're very lovely and very brave—and, I repeat, that guy was a fool.' He made no attempt to touch her further, for which she was supremely gra
teful— one more word, one more gentle pat and she would either have hit him or burst into tears, neither of which would have served any purpose.
His mouth was straight and tight, his eyes pure silver and as sharp as glass—he was clearly furious with this man who had spurned her affections. As well he might be, she thought with a sudden burst of rage that gave her the strength to shrug lightly and turn back to the washing-up.
They left the house some ten minutes later, Reece carrying her case in one hand and holding onto her arm with the other as he led her over the thick snow to his car. He had hardly said two words since their conversation over breakfast, retreating into a dark, distant mood that Miriam made no attempt to lighten. She felt bruised and raw and desperately sad, and more unhappy than she had ever been in her life.
She glanced at him now as he slid into the car beside her, the hard, masculine face taut and remote, the silver eyes as cold as ice. Sharon would fit into his world perfectly; there was no doubt about that. From the little she had seen of the beautiful blonde she thought that Sharon would be exactly what Reece wanted her to be whenever he wanted it—a lovely living doll to play all the right parts at the right time.
The drive to his house was more hazardous than she had expected, the thick white flakes of snow falling so quickly that the windscreen wipers had difficulty clearing them and the roads lethal with packed snow, huge drifts already mounting either side of the verges.
'Barbara's going to panic.'
As they drew into the long drive she breathed a sigh of relief that the journey had been completed without any mishap and turned to Reece quietly. 'It won't last, and better today than on the actual wedding day.' She touched his arm tentatively as he cut the ignition. 'And thanks for turning out on a morning like this, Reece; I hadn't realised it was so bad. Perhaps my car wouldn't have made it after all, but I could have got a taxi. You shouldn't have come yourself.'
'Yes, I should.' In the infinitesimal moment of time that he looked at her before opening the car door she saw something in his face that made her heart leap into her throat, but then, as he walked round the bonnet and helped her out, she saw that his features were remote and cold, his eyes hooded. 'Have you seen how some of those taxi drivers drive?' he asked drily. 'The chances of you arriving here in one piece to soothe Barbara's ruffled feathers were highly remote.'
He had parked just outside the door leading to the kitchens, and after opening the boot and extracting her case he followed her into the corridor, walking through to the flat's front door, whereupon he put down the case and delved into his pocket for the key.
'You've got a key on your keyring as well,' he said shortly as he opened the door and placed the case just inside. 'And there's a bolt on the front door too, once you've settled down for the night.' He eyed her expressionlessly. 'Just so you feel doubly safe,' he added enigmatically before turning and walking back the way they had come.
She stood quietly for a moment or two, hearing his car start and drive away round to the front of the house, and breathed out slowly, her heart thudding.
She had imagined that expression on his face before he opened the car door—a look of hunger and deep emotion that echoed something in her own heart. He had made it perfectly clear this morning in everything he'd said and done that he had come to fetch her in order to ensure that the next few days ran as smoothly as possible. Barbara was all that mattered to him, she knew that—she knew it, so why did her traitorous heart keep hoping for something mote? She shook her head blindly. And now he'd got her imagining things too. She really would end up in a strait-jacket before this little lot was through if she wasn't careful.
She took a long, deep, tortured breath and forced herself to pick up the case and walk through to the small bedroom, where she began to pack away her few clothes methodically. He'd employed her to do a job, nothing more. If she had been game for a little light affair at the same time then that would have been a bonus for him, but that was all it would have been. His heart was encased in ice and likely to remain that way until someone far more experienced in the ways of life and love than she had the opportunity to break through.
Once the unpacking was finished she walked through to the kitchens to begin work, forcing her mind to concentrate on the job in hand. Mitch and the others were due to arrive about nine, but with the weather conditions set against them they could well be late. She was going to have to work like crazy even to maintain a semblance of the schedule they had worked out so carefully. She shook her head irritably. This job had been doomed from the start.
Nine came and went, followed by a phone call from Mitch a few minutes later. 'Mim?' Her brother's voice was harassed. 'This has thrown us into one hell of a mess, hasn't it?'
'Not at all.' She slipped back into her accustomed role of comforter and optimist even as something deep inside rebelled suddenly. She wanted someone to help her, talk positively and firmly and take the burden off her shoulders. And she wasn't thinking of this damn job either, she added with silent bitterness.
'I've just cleared the drive here at home and phoned Vera and Dave to tell them to let everyone know I'll pick them up in the van,' Mitch continued quickly. 'At least the van's got a better chance of getting through than several cars. We should be with you about ten if you can hold the fort till then.'
'Fine. I won't be twiddling my thumbs for something to do,' she added wryly.
She decided to pop through to the main house to tell Mrs Goode when the others were going to arrive and check when the agency staff were due. Reece had employed three women to help Mrs Goode and Jinny in the main house in view of the number of guests who would be staying over for the weekend and, as long as they arrived, along with the extra hands that Mitch had arranged for the actual wedding day, they should be able to cope.
Jinny, under Mrs Goode's direction, had prepared the main hall the day before and it was ready now except for the fresh flowers due to be put in place early on Saturday morning. Miriam glanced at the walls festooned with ribbon and horseshoes as she crossed the immaculate floor and felt a pang in her heart region as she contemplated how lucky Barbara and Craig were to have found each other despite all the odds stacked against them. Theirs was a love match if ever she had seen one— a meeting of two souls who complemented each other perfectly in spite of being totally different.
She heard the raised voices before she had even gone through the door leading into the main house, and once in the hall outside she recognised that a furious row was in progress. She took a few uncertain steps before hesitating halfway down the hall. Reece's voice was clearly identifiable, although not his actual words, and who the unfortunate individual facing him was she had no idea.
The next moment the door to the drawing room burst open and Craig emerged, his face as white as a sheet as he took the stairs two at a time, disappearing upstairs.
'I'll never forgive you for this—never.' Barbara's voice was quivering with rage but as cold as ice as she, too, appeared in the doorway, her back to Miriam as she faced Reece, who was still inside the room. 'I hate you. Do you hear me? I hate you!'
'There's is no need for such hysterics.' She could imagine how infuriating Barbara found the coolly angry reply, and as Reece's sister's back stiffened she waited for the explosion to follow.
'You insinuate that Craig doesn't really love me, that he's after my money, and then follow that with the idea that I'm marrying him on a whim to satisfy some strange biological urge, and you tell me there's no need for hysterics!' Barbara screamed at the top of her voice. 'How dare you? How dare you, Reece? What gives you the right to think you know how Craig or I feel?'
'I merely asked if it was necessary to make your relationship legal,' Reece said with icy stiffness. 'Situations change, people change. In a few months' time you might feel quite differently, and then you'll have a huge financial settlement to think about if you want to finish the marriage.'
'I shan't want to finish the marriage!'
Well, that was def
inite, Miriam thought faintly as she closed her eyes against Reece's blundering. Oh, Reece, you fool, she thought helplessly. You blind, stupid fool.
'You've ruined it all now and it was to be the best day of my life. Craig's going to a hotel and we've got all his relations arriving tomorrow— Oh!' Barbara stamped her feet as she literally ground her teeth at him. 'I really hate you at this moment, Reece; I wish you'd never been born.' And then she was gone, flying up the stairs after Craig as she burst into a storm of weeping that rocked the house.
Miriam waited for a minute or two and then crept tentatively to the open door. Reece was standing with his back to the room, looking out of the huge windows into the cold white world outside, his body stiff and taut and his hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets.
'Reece?' As she spoke his name he swung round immediately, his face as black as thunder.
'I suppose you heard all that?' he said bitterly. 'I should think everyone from here to Land's End could hear it.'
'You're wrong, you know,' she said very quietly as she came fully into the room and closed the door behind her. 'Barbara loves him very much and I'm sure he feels the same. Your sister is the type of person who only loves once and then she gives it her all. Craig is the man for her, whatever happens. I should imagine your father was the same from what you've told me.'
'You know nothing about it.' There was a stricken look to his face that pained her. Clearly the bitter quarrel with his twin had hurt him more than he would admit. 'Dammit, you've only met Barbara a couple of times; how can you possibly give a judgement on something like this?'
'Probably because I have only met hear recently,' Miriam said carefully. 'You're too close to it all to recognise what's happened beneath your very nose. You had always imagined she was like you, content with a high-powered career and taking her fun where she found it with no thoughts of settling down. And probably until she met Craig that was how she did think. But not now. And he isn't what you think. That first time you met him fee was ill, suffering from jet lag, not drunk and mauling some girl, although I know it looked like that.'