'So are you.' He turned abruptly as if he wished he hadn't spoken.
When they alighted at a hotel in the city centre he held a door for her, saying, 'I shall be an hour at the very outside. You can wait in the coffee-shop for me if you like.'
'I'd like to explore a little,' she told him eagerly.
'Will you be safe by yourself?'
'Why ever not?'
He pulled her briefly against him and kissed her forehead. 'Make a note of the hotel, then, in case you have to ask directions. Most people speak English so you shouldn't have any problems. And, Rachel --' He paused and she wondered what he was going to say, but all he said was, 'Try not to be late back. We haven't much time left and I don't want to waste a minute of it. Let's agree on twelve prompt, right?'
She glanced at her watch. 'Twelve,' she agreed.
He strode off across the marble hall in what was a rather grand hotel on traditional lines. He looked wonderful, she thought, still glowing after that brief kiss. Then she shuddered. It was a bitter-sweet feeling, knowing their hours together were numbered. But it was better than nothing, and today she would follow Elliot's own advice. She would live as if there were no tomorrow.
First she wandered down the main street, looking in the big stores, but they reminded her too much of work so she turned off the main road and found herself in a network of little side-streets. There were silversmiths and jewellers, diamond merchants and galleries and a host of intriguing boutiques. And then she reached the bank of a canal and spent some time looking down into the green water, thinking about Elliot.
It was as if he had produced a magic carpet. She supposed he had wanted someone, anyone, to accompany him today, and perhaps his secretary was too busy to take time off. He had chosen her because he couldn't bear to feel she'd beaten him completely and, as he had said, they were having a sort of truce. What else he had said about her being beautiful was exaggeration, of course, and she was a gullible idiot if she thought it meant anything special. As Rachel she was quite ordinary. Men always looked at girls, didn't they? It meant nothing. To a man like Elliot compliments were his normal stock in trade.
Having got that sorted out in her head, she retraced her steps to be in good time for their twelve o'clock meeting. Despite herself she felt her heart somersault when she saw him already waiting for her. She gave him a beaming smile. 'I've had the most heavenly time,' she exclaimed, despite her darker thoughts of a few minutes ago. 'You must come and have a look at a gallery I found. Do you like paintings?'
He laughed, taking her hand and crumpling it inside his pocket as they went outside to find it. Somehow she mistook the turning and they found themselves walking a leafy path alongside a canal. Houseboats lined the bank.
'It's so beautiful,' she breathed. 'I'd no idea it would be so lovely. Look at the reflections of those trees in the water.'
But Elliot was looking at her. He turned so that they were facing each other and put out his fingers, tracing the gentle curve of her upper lip. She felt her skin tingle. Every touch was an intimation of heaven. Even his hand round her wrist where he still kept it trapped in his pocket seemed like magic, like a bewitchment she only half understood.
He didn't kiss her, but a kiss seemed to hang in the air.
They walked slowly on, his arms wrapped round her shoulders now. Looking like lovers, she thought. In the City of Love. I'm so happy. In a sad way this is as happy as I've ever been.
They had lunch in a small waterside cafe, sitting in the open at a painted table with the scent of roses coming to them from the vines that tumbled round the balcony of the upper floor. People were talking, soft-voiced, around them, and the aroma of cigars and good coffee floated over the sunlit air. The enchantment of being with Elliot made her feel drowsy—it was like being under a spell, as if nothing else were real.
'Let's see if we can find this little gallery of yours,' he suggested after lunch.
She allowed him to walk her slowly into the network of side-streets. They came across a market selling clogs and brass pots and wooden puppets and he bought her one of those, telling her it was an Indonesian shadow puppet and represented a princess from a Balinese fairy-tale. But his voice was flat when he said, 'Pity you have to go back at eight. We could eat Indonesian-style tonight if we had the time.'
He gave her a curious look as if expecting her to change her mind, his eyes deep clefts of Prussian blue holding the unspoken question.
Confused, she turned away. 'Look,' she cried, darting forward with relief, 'here's the street with the gallery in it!' He hadn't asked why she was in such a hurry to return and, though courtesy suggested that she offer some explanation, she couldn't bring herself to admit something that would change the mood of this idyllic interlude forever.
I'm going to have to tell him about Zia, she warned herself as she followed him down some steps into the gallery. But I'll do it later on the way back, she told herself. I'll do it then.
They became too busy arguing about their preferences among the paintings that lined the walls to allow any opportunity for confession, and Rachel was glad when the reasons for her going back at eight seemed to have been dropped. Later, though, another opportunity to tell him about Zia arose when they were passing the opera house. Elliot made quite a show of pointing it out to her.
Then he asked casually, 'Do you sing?'
The question was so unexpected that she gave a gasp and dropped her handbag. It flew open, spilling keys, cards, purse, diary and other oddments all over the pavement. By the time he had helped her pick everything up he seemed to have forgotten the question that had precipitated such a reaction and she hadn't the courage to pursue it. Later, she told herself, I'll tell him when we're sitting down somewhere and can have a quiet talk.
They strolled around for another hour or so until the sun went down and the trees lining the canals began to glimmer in a ghostly fashion through fingers of evening mist.
'We've just time for a drink of hot chocolate before we need to head back towards the airport,' he told her. He led her to a crowded little bar by the waterfront.
'It's been a wonderful day, Elliot,' she said as soon as they were settled in a cosy corner beside a log fire. 'Thank you so much. I shall never forget it.' She meant it in more ways than he could realise and longed to tell him how she felt, but the knowledge that he would see it as a sign that he had broken through her icy defences made her hold her tongue. Besides, she was building up to telling him something far more important.
He gave a distant smile. 'Lovely place, pleasant company.' He laughed shortly. 'We've had it all today, haven't we?'
There was a note of bitterness in his tone despite the words, and she wondered what she had done to make him sound like that. Before she could begin to set things straight he wanted to go, and once outside he stepped into the road to hail a cab. She waited patiently while he spoke to the driver, then he turned back with an odd expression. 'Get in,' he said, 'but don't count on getting back to London before eight. They're cancelling some flights and putting others on hold. I hope this eight o'clock assignation of yours isn't important?'
'What's wrong?' she asked, ignoring the latter part of his question.
'Didn't you pick up on what the driver said? Schiphol's paralysed by fog.' He peered out of the window as the buildings thinned out on the edge of town. It was true. She could see for herself. Fog lay in an unbroken blanket on both sides of the cab. Soon the driver was pulling into the side of the road. Elliot leaned forward to listen to what he had to say. Then the cab was doing a full turn and began to head back to town.
'He says he can't risk it. It's even worse than when he left an hour ago. I guess we'll simply have to stay the night.'
'But I can't!' Rachel exclaimed.
Elliot gave her a cynical glance. 'If you have any alternative means of transport at your disposal, do tell me. You can't imagine I'd choose to stay the night here if there were a way out, do you?'
Rachel glowered back at him. It was obvious what
he meant. He wouldn't choose a night with Rachel the prude if he had a choice. She glared out of the window.
'It's no use looking like that. Fog, unlike human beings, is impervious to your basilisk stare.'
She sat back and closed her eyes. 'So what do we do?'
'You'll make a phone call to the man you were presumably meeting this evening and then we'll take a room—or should I say rooms?—in a hotel.' He lolled back in a corner of the cab, and when she opened her eyes he was looking directly into them. 'Don't spoil a perfect day, Rachel. You know you can trust me. I gave you my word. And if you think I planned this I only wish I had your faith in my powers. Believe me, this is not the weather I would ordain!'
'Blue skies and golden beaches with lots of bronzed bodies in view would be more your line, I suppose.' She tried to speak lightly but he wasn't fooled.
'Your bronzed body would be enough for me. Provided you were there willingly,' he told her. He was half smiling. 'Stop looking so nervous. We've got a truce on, don't forget.'
'OK.' She smiled.
'Separate rooms sound safe enough, don't they?'
Only if they're in separate buildings too, she wanted to say, but thought it wiser to hold her tongue.
CHAPTER NINE
Elliot told the taxi driver to take them back to the centre and they were dropped at the hotel where he had had his early morning meeting. He was obviously known there and he obtained a suite with separate bedrooms without any trouble. Before they went up to see it he suggested going into the hotel's shopping mall to make a few purchases. 'Whatever you need,' he told her, 'toothbrush, nightdress and so on. Charge it to me.'
She felt awkward as she made her few purchases, and when he saw she had confined herself to the bare minimum of toothbrush and toothpaste he raised his eyebrows.
'What about a nightdress?' he asked. 'Or do you usually sleep in the raw?'
She blushed. 'They're all horribly expensive, Elliot. It seems extravagant for just one night.'
'Idiot. Let's see what they've got to offer.'
He forced her back inside the boutique and a sales assistant gushingly showed them a selection of silk nightgowns while Rachel stood to one side, hardly saying a word and letting Elliot do the choosing. When they got outside he handed her the box with a rueful smile. 'You don't seem very enthusiastic. I'm sorry there was nothing there you liked.'
'It's not that!' she burst out. 'They're all simply gorgeous. But it felt wrong for you to buy me something like this. I feel like --' She felt colour flame in her cheeks. 'Well, it was obvious what that assistant thought, wasn't it?'
He lifted his head.
'She thought I was your mistress!'
He had started to laugh when he saw how hot and bothered she looked, but when he heard the word 'mistress' his jaw clenched. 'You seem to find the idea offensive,' he rasped. He gave her a freezing glance before saying. 'Better come up and inspect the rooms right away to make sure there's a double lock on your door!' Without giving her chance to protest he grasped her roughly by the arm and insisted on pulling her across the foyer beside him. She had to hurry to keep up so that nobody could guess how tightly he was holding her beneath the folds of her coat. When they reached the stairs he forced her to walk up them rather than take the lift.
'You know I can't be trusted in lifts,' he grated, eyes still glinting. For a moment she thought he was going to give that sudden smile of his to show it was all a joke, but his expression hardened and he didn't say a word all the way up to their suite. When they got inside he thrust her forward into the room.
'Go on, then! Inspect the place. I'd hate you to feel you were being compromised in any way!'
'It—it seems all right,' she said hesitantly, giving the place only the briefest glance. The way he was treating her now told her as plain as day that he had no intention of coming anywhere near her. The realisation wounded her, but she knew it was what she'd asked for. And it was what she wanted, after all.
As if to continue the charade, he poked his head round all the doors and inspected the locks. 'Yes, I think you'll be safe enough here.' He rattled the key in the lock of one of the rooms. 'All right?' he snarled, turning on her.
'I'm sorry, Elliot --'
'Don't apologise, for God's sake. It only makes matters worse. Now you'd better ring this man of yours, hadn't you? Where does he hang out, in a monastery or something?'
'There is no man.' She glanced nervously at the telephone in the window.
'But you hope I'll leave the room so you can phone in private?' He paused as if allowing her the chance to deny it, but when she thought of what she was going to have to say to Ray she dropped her glance. 'Go on, then,' he bit out, 'but make it quick, damn you! I'll be in the bar.' With that he strode from the room.
His face was still white when she joined him a few minutes later after calling Ray to say she wouldn't be in that night.
'I'm intrigued to know what line you gave him,' he grunted when she sat down beside him. 'How did you explain me away?'
'I don't have to explain you away to anyone, Elliot,' she began in a small voice. 'Honestly --'
'"Honestly"? That's hardly a word I would expect you to use, Rachel.'
She looked at him with incomprehension.
He gave a bitter smile. 'At least you didn't take long to whisper your sweet nothings in his ear. You must be very sure of him.' Before she could hit back he went on, 'Keep it light, that was the pact, wasn't it? Come on, then. You must be hungry. Let's eat.' He got up. 'Stay right here while I call a cab.'
When he left she slumped miserably where she was on the love-seat in the corner of the bar and wondered why he was so angry with her all of a sudden. His anger might have flared up when she'd said she felt like his mistress in the lingerie boutique, but it had been slumbering beneath the surface long before that. He had tried to hide it and on the surface everything had seemed fine. But she had sensed it was there all the time.
Try as she might, she couldn't imagine what she had done, apart from not want to get involved in an affair. And his suspicion that she was ringing another man to cancel a date was ridiculous. She hadn't done a thing to lead him to make such an accusation.
When he came back she tried to be as conciliatory as possible and skirted any further references to locked doors or phone calls. He seemed to give his tacit agreement to a truce between them and was almost his old self as they made their way out to the waiting cab.
'I was sorry earlier when I thought we'd have to miss out on our Indonesian meal,' he told her conversationally. 'If you've never tried it you're in for a treat.'
It was a tiny restaurant on the upper floor of one of those tall Dutch houses beside a canal. Outside was a simple name sign on the austere brick front, but inside it was a riot of exotic colour. The rhythmic sound of gamelan music added to the out-of-this-world feeling as soon as they stepped through the door. Sitting side by side on braided cushions, they were soon surrounded by a numberless array of little dishes, each bearing a brightly coloured concoction of exotic-looking food. A waitress in traditional dress explained what each of them was, and when she left Elliot picked out his own favourites for Rachel.
Everything seemed good between them again, and it was no effort to forget' the black clouds on the horizon. He had said this was a day out of time and she reminded herself that she had resolved to live it as if there were no tomorrow. Now, under the warmth of his glance, she was willing to shut her eyes to everything else.
She felt her face glow whenever their glances meshed and she knew that the way his hand repeatedly brushed hers as they helped themselves to the different dishes spread before them was no accident at all. He was responding to her mood and it made her feel as if for a short spell all the storm clouds were firmly below the horizon. She refused to permit herself to imagine what might lie ahead if their present mood continued. As he had shown her, there were locks on their doors. It was a dangerous thought—but she knew that the only locks she wanted were not
ones to keep him out, but ones to keep him in.
As the evening wore on she realised that now might be the time to confess to her other role as Zia, but the intention was quashed by the romantic ambience of the place, and even though she tried to make a tentative beginning, whispering. 'I feel I ought to tell you something, Elliot...' he cut her short at once.
'So solemn, Rachel! Cheer up!' And she remembered their agreement—nothing heavy—and thankfully acquiesced. At this moment everything was too perfect to spoil with a lot of explanations.
To counter any accusation that she was being too serious she searched her mind for something neutral to talk about and blurted, 'Have you been here before?' Then she gave a little laugh. 'Sorry, that's hardly the most original question!'
He chuckled. 'I don't come here often either. Do you?' His eyes teased and he went on, 'I've been saving this place for someone special --' he paused '—then I got impatient.' His tone momentarily hardened, even though he had obviously meant it as a joke, and when her head flew up he added more gently, 'It's said to be the best outside Bali, and it probably is, judging by tonight. Though maybe,' he went on more softly still, 'that impression is something to do with present company...'
In the pause that followed she blushed and looked down at the cloth. 'I suppose you've actually been to Bali?' She couldn't trust herself to remain in control if he continued to look at her like this.
'Once or twice,' he admitted, more conversationally. 'I was on the West Coast for two years, working for a firm of financial consultants. I took every chance I could to travel. Being about halfway to the Far East already, I thought it seemed crazy not to go the whole way...' He laughed and his eyes found hers again, uttering unspoken thoughts that made her nerves tingle.
'It must be lovely,' she replied demurely, trying not to show how her imagination was running wild. 'I can scarcely imagine what it must be like. Different from Dorset, I should think! I'd love to travel,' she added wistfully. 'I've only ever been to Europe.'
Eyes endlessly deep drew forth a response that frightened her in its intensity and, striving to keep the conversation as light as possible, she went on quickly, 'I've had a school skiing trip to Austria, a fortnight in Italy—and an Easter holiday in Spain. I'd like to go to Greece especially,' she added in a rush, feeling that if she kept on talking she could skirt the danger that loomed.
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