‘Why ever not?’ demanded Marina in consternation.
‘The same old reasons, Mother. Neither leopard had changed its spots.’
‘But you seemed to be getting on so well when the boys were ill.’
‘We were. But it didn’t last. Don’t worry. No bones broken, or blood spilt.’ She paused. ‘If Luke should ask you where I am, just tell him I’ve found somewhere else and don’t have a phone yet’
‘Nor an address?’ said Marina tartly.
‘Look, Mother, we had a row. Nothing dreadful, but for the time being I’d very much like to keep out of Luke’s way for a bit.’
‘Do you expect me to lie?’
‘No. Just tell him I’d rather not talk to him.’
‘And I’d rather you told him yourself, my girl.’ Marina sighed. ‘Oh. very well. But I don’t like it.’
Neither did she, thought Saskia drearily, and took some clothes from her luggage in readiness for the next day.
Half an hour later her mother rang back.
‘Luke rang, right on cue,’ she said unhappily. ‘Apparently he was late home tonight and had only just discovered you’d moved out’
‘What did he say?’
‘Nothing much. But he seemed very upset.’
‘Did he ask for my phone number?’
‘Yes. I told him you refused to let me pass it on. I didn’t enjoy that’
‘Ah, but you adore Luke, Mother.’
‘True. Not as much as I do you, Saskia, but I am fond of him,’ said Marina with dignity. ‘Now, try to get some sleep. And come down on Saturday morning for the weekend, please.’
Since this was more by nature of an order than a request, Saskia didn’t dare refuse. Not that she wanted a weekend in town on her own, she thought, sighing, and looked round her at the familiar surroundings.
Only a short time ago this had been home to her. But not any more. Her short sojourn in Luke’s lovely old house had seen to that. Already she was beginning to regret her hasty, headlong flight from it. And from Luke. But his reaction to the news item had hurt. At the thought, her anger came flooding back in full force. Her aim had been to prevent harm to him and his business, while he had jumped to the usual male conclusion that she was pushing him into holy matrimony. And an unholy affair it would have been with a start like that, she thought scornfully.
Next day work went hard. Two sleepless nights in a row were no help with her job, which was stressful at the best of times. By the evening she was heartily sick of trading figures and computer screens, and wanted nothing more than a hot bath and an early night. Which was unlikely, since she would have to banish Carol from the sitting room to achieve it.
When Saskia was making for the underground, among a crowd of other city workers, she felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Luke, dressed in the raincoat that made him look even taller and more formidable than usual.
‘Saskia,’ he said peremptorily. ‘I want to talk to you.’
For a moment she was so delighted by the sight of him she was ready to agree to anything he wanted. But pride came to her rescue. ‘I’m tired and I want to get—’ She halted, and he smiled grimly.
‘Where, Saskia? Where did you run to this time? You needn’t worry,’ he added. ‘I shan’t add trespass to my sins. But I would like to know you’re safe somewhere.’
They stood in the middle of the pavement with homegoing commuters rushing past, jostling them, making conversation impossible.
‘All right,’ she said will ill grace. ‘Did you come by car?’
He nodded. ‘It’s parked round the corner. I was lucky. Someone drove off as I arrived.’
‘I’m back in my old flat in Chiswick for a day or two,’ she said, falling into step with him. ‘Thank you for the lift. I’m a bit tired.’
Once they were on their way in the car he glanced at her pale face, which was drained still further by the street lights.
“‘A bit tired” is something of an understatement,’ he commented. ‘You look exhausted, Saskia.’
No more ‘Sassy’, she thought forlornly. ‘It’s hectic at the bank. And my boss isn’t in a very sweet mood since I gave in my notice. I’m only required to work to the end of the calendar month, by the way, so I can start the new job in two weeks’ time, which will give me a few days first to find somewhere to live. Preferably near Harper’s.’
‘You already have a place to live near Harper’s. Why the devil did you take off like that?’ he demanded bitterly.
‘You know perfectly well!’ she snapped. ‘It all went wrong. If I’d stayed I’d have been guarding every word in case you suspected my intentions.’ She snorted inelegantly. ‘It’s utterly ludicrous. Believe me, Lucius Armytage, if I really wanted to marry you I’d use subtler means than an item in the press to persuade you.’
‘What would you do?’ he asked instantly.
‘No idea!’ She eyed him balefully. ‘Marriage isn’t on my personal agenda. But if it were I’d think up something cleverer than that!’
There was silence for a moment as Luke negotiated a particularly busy roundabout. Then he said abruptly, ‘When we get to your flat I want to come up for a moment. It’s impossible to talk in the car.’
‘Carol may be there.’
‘Then if she is I shall say goodnight very politely and leave you in peace. For tonight, anyway.’
Saskia shrugged. ‘Very well. If you must.’
The rest of the journey was accomplished in silence until they reached the big old riverside house which housed several large apartments on the floors below the attic flat which had been home to Saskia until recently. She led the way up three flights of stairs and unlocked the door, to find the flat in darkness.
‘Come in, then,’ she said briskly, turning on lights.
Luke followed her inside, his eyes drawn to her unpacked suitcases behind the sofa.
‘Please sit down,’ she said politely, taking off her raincoat. She waved him to an armchair and perched on the arm of the sofa. ‘What did you want to discuss?’
‘The possibility of your coming back to the house.’ He stared down at his shoes. ‘I admit I was wrong. I admit to jumping to conclusions which sent you storming off. So I’m here to make a proper apology and suggest we start again, on a different basis. I could even charge you rent, if you prefer it that way.’
‘And still run the risk of having my every pleasantry looked on as suspect?’ she asked scornfully. ‘No way!’
‘You know perfectly well that would never happen again.’ He glared at her. ‘You’ve made it perfectly clear I’m the last man you want to marry. I suppose I should be grateful you consented to make love with me.’
She glared back, pushing damp hair back from the face she knew very well looked pale and tired. ‘Are you seeking praise for your sexual prowess?’
‘No,’ he snapped. ‘I thought we were making love, not just having sex.’
Saskia’s face flushed scarlet, then paled so suddenly she felt sick, and she slid down onto the sofa cushions abruptly. ‘I’m very tired, Luke. You’ve had your say. The answer’s no. So go now, please. I’d like a bath before Carol comes home.’
‘I haven’t had my say,’ he said with quiet violence, and rose to his feet, overpowering in the small room. ‘I’ve got an alternative suggestion.’ He breathed in deeply, his face blank as a mask. ‘We could get married.’
‘What?’ She stared at him in such utter astonishment that dark colour rose in his face. ‘Why?’ she said, mystified.
He shrugged. ‘I—want you. So if that’s what it takes to have you back I’ll marry you.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Is it the kind of thing one jokes about?’
Green eyes glared into green, and at last Saskia shook her head and looked away. ‘Since you make it sound like the last thing in the world you really want, I certainly don’t find it funny,’ she muttered.
With a smothered curse Luke jerked her into his arms, holding her crue
lly tight as she struggled involuntarily to be free. ‘Oh, I want you, Sassy. If you need convincing,’ he said through his teeth, ‘I’ll oblige with the greatest of pleasure.’ He smothered her protests with a vanquishing kiss, an arm like an iron bar crushing her ribs as his free hand unbuttoned her jacket to gain access to the curves below.
Saskia began to fight in earnest, uttering choked sounds of protest as she fought to get free, but Luke was not only angry, he was now inflamed by the scent and feel of her, the frantic opposition only hardening his resolve to get his way. He swung her up in his arms, then stood stock-still at the sight of the astounded young woman standing in the open doorway.
‘Goodness,’ said Carol Parker in breathless embarrassment. ‘I’m frightfully sorry. Don’t mind me. I’ll just—’ With a nervous laugh she dived for the bedroom and closed the door.
Deathly pale now, Luke set Saskia on her feet, and with shaking hands she tried to rebutton her shirt.
‘I apologise. Again,’ said Luke, and moved to help her, but she dodged away.
‘Don’t touch me!’
‘Saski—’ he began, but she held up a trembling hand.
‘If you’re capable of any shred of feeling for me, Luke, just go. Please.’ Her voice cracked on the last word, and in silence he brushed past her and went out through the door Carol had left open.
Saskia slumped down in a heap on the sofa and began to cry—bitter, racking sobs that brought Carol running from the other room to hold her close in comfort and to apologise volubly for the interruption.
After a while Saskia’s sense of proportion returned, and she was able to manage a watery smile. ‘Not your fault, Carol. Actually, I’m grateful. Otherwise I might have done something really idiotic.’
‘Like letting that gorgeous man have his wicked way?’ Carol handed her a wad of tissues. ‘Who in the world was it?’
‘Luke Armytage,’ said Saskia, blowing her nose prosaically.
‘Your stepbrother?’ Carol stared at her with eyes like blue saucers.
‘We’re not actually related.’ Saskia drew in a big, shaky breath, and pushed back her hair. ‘In fact we’ve been having a bit of a fling lately.’
‘Now let me get this straight,’ said Carol, subsiding cross-legged onto the floor. ‘Does “a bit of a fling” mean things carnal? In the old days you once told me that leaping in and out of beds was not your cup of tea.’
‘It still isn’t, in the plural.’
‘But Luke’s bed is different?’
Saskia nodded dumbly.
‘So why were you fighting him tooth and nail?’
‘He asked me to marry him.’
Carol stared blankly. ‘I don’t get it. Look, Saskia, have you lost your marbles?’ She grinned widely. ‘But if the gentleman is really set on a wife and you don’t fancy it, could you point him in my direction, please? I wouldn’t fight him off, believe me.’
‘No chance,’ said Saskia firmly, and reached for her handbag. She took the newspaper cutting out and gave it to Carol. ‘Luke thinks I did this to push him into it. So I walked out.’
Carol studied the item with interest. ‘Who was responsible for this, then?’
‘Francis Lawford, in a roundabout way.’
‘Ah, yes. I’d forgotten Francis. And, by the look of things when I came in, so had you. Is Luke right? About the marriage bit? Is that the only way you’ll go back to him?’
‘Of course not,’ said Saskia hotly. ‘I can’t forgive him for even thinking that.’
‘Oh, dear, oh, dear.’ Carol got up to pat Saskia’s bowed, dishevelled head. ‘Go and have a bath, then I’ll make you my famed beans on toast, or I could defrost something.’
Saskia was feeling rather better by the time she was settled for the night on the pull-out sofa, then she shot upright again as the buzzer rang on the intercom. Carol came running from the bedroom, exclaiming at the cheek of someone calling round at that time of night. She answered it, then eyed Saskia unhappily.
‘It’s Luke.’
Saskia jumped to her feet, but Carol waved her back.
‘Yes, all right,’ she said into the intercom. ‘I’ll come down.’ She put the receiver back. ‘He’s brought something for you, but insists that I, not you, go down to collect it. Flowers, I expect.’
Saskia stared at her friend blankly. ‘Why doesn’t he want me to go down to collect them, then?’
Carol shrugged and unlocked the door. ‘Only one way to find out.’
Saskia waited, tense, until her friend came back a few minutes later, carrying a large carrier bag instead of the expected flowers.
‘He brought this for you,’ said Carol, looking deeply uncomfortable. ‘Said you left it behind.’
The bag provided Saskia with the final, crowning touch to her day. Inside was the Valentino dress.
Saskia went straight to Paddington on the Saturday morning, rang her mother from the train and found Sam Armytage waiting for her at the station when she arrived at Oxford.
Saskia flew into his arms and he hugged her close, then took charge of her hold-all and ushered her outside to the car for a careful drive home through foggy streets while he talked about the twins and his students, and everything under the sun other than Luke.
When she arrived home, Marina was waiting with another hug, and exclamations over her daughter’s look of exhaustion. But Saskia assured her mother that she wasn’t ill, despite the London pallor, and blamed her frayed appearance on the slave-driving of Charles Harrison.
The twins were having a nap, and after a cautious peep round their door to look at the identical, angelic faces, Saskia changed her travelling clothes for jeans and a sweater, and went downstairs to share lunch with Sam and Marina. She made a rather better job of eating it than any other meal she’d attempted in recent memory as they discussed her new venture into the world of antiques.
‘Luke’s coming down tonight,’ said Marina as they took coffee into the small sitting room. ‘Now, don’t look like that, Saskia. I know you two are daggers drawn again, but you can just behave yourselves for a day and be civilised, since it’s Sam’s birthday tomorrow.’
‘My sixtieth, too,’ said Sam gloomily. ‘I need cheering up.’
Saskia swallowed down scalding coffee in one draught and held out her cup for more. ‘Of course,’ she said valiantly. ‘It makes no difference to me.’
Which was such a downright lie Marina smiled in compassion and changed the subject.
‘What time did he say he was coming?’ said Sam to his wife at one stage.
‘Whenever he could get away.’
From what, or from whom? thought her daughter. She should have known Luke would come for Sam’s birthday, of course. She’d hoped he would, if she was honest. The past three days had been hard to bear, always hoping he’d ring, or appear again to collect her when she finished work. For the moment she would relax. Just enjoy being home.
The three of them spent the rest of the day catching up on each other’s news, all except the one item of news uppermost in the minds of all three. But no one made any more reference to the break between Luke and Saskia, or the reason for it. And after dinner Sam switched on the television to catch up on the news, followed by a weather forecast which confirmed that the southern half of Britain was shrouded in dense fog.
Afterwards, no one having commented on the fact that Luke was driving down from London in such bad weather, they settled down to watch the first instalment of a serial by Marina’s favourite thriller writer. And not once did Saskia betray that she was listening for a car, nor what self-control it was taking merely to listen for the chimes of the casement clock in the hall rather than keep looking at her watch.
When the instalment was over, Marina remarked on the fact that Luke was bound to be late, discussed the likely identity of the murderer in the play, then sent Sam upstairs to check on his sons while she made tea.
‘After which,’ she said, yawning, as Saskia poured, ‘Sam and I will go to bed,
if you don’t mind, darling. Luke said not to wait up for him, so I’ll try to get some beauty sleep. I want to look my best for Sam’s birthday dinner.’
Saskia was quite glad to go to bed herself. Alone in her old room at the top of the house, she could worry about Luke in private. She settled down in bed with a book, her radio on beside her to listen for traffic flashes. News of a minor pile-up on one of the motorways filled her with terror, but this abated slightly as the presenter reported no fatalities and advised everyone driving out there to slow down and take more care. She tried to concentrate on her book, but without success, shifting restlessly in the bed as she listened to the relentless chimes of the clock marking the passage of time.
At one point she fell into an uneasy doze, then jerked awake and peered at her watch. Two in the morning! She slid out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown and ran down to Luke’s room, her blood running cold at the sight of the empty bed. Where in heaven’s name are you, Luke? she thought in silent anguish. She would ring the police. Saskia stole downstairs in the dark to avoid disturbing the household, then saw a strip of light showing below the kitchen door at the back of the hall.
She tiptoed across to open it, then sagged against the lintel in overwhelming relief. Luke, in all the glory of dinner jacket and black tie, was sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee and the evening paper. He jumped to his feet at the sight of her, unguarded delight in his eyes.
‘Saskia!’
Without a word she flung herself across the room, and Luke seized her in his arms and smothered her question with a kiss which made it superfluous. Wherever he’d been, or however late he was, he was here now—in the flesh. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks for it as the kiss lengthened and deepened, and quickly changed from simple thanksgiving to an urgency which threatened to overwhelm them both, and Luke moved his mouth across her cheek to discover tears.
‘Don’t! Don’t cry, Sassy,’ he commanded hoarsely.
At which she pulled away, her wet eyes accusing.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ she demanded. ‘I’ve been going out of my mind. I came down to ring the police.’
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