by Penny Jordan
When Sarah made a soft sound of distress Ross shook his head again. ‘You know your trouble, don’t you?’ he told her. ‘You’re far too softhearted…far too idealistic.’
‘It’s Robbie I feel sorry for,’ Sally interrupted. ‘Poor little boy. He’s lucky he’s got you, though, Sarah.’
Sarah shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I could be doing more harm than good. He needs someone permanent in his life.’
‘You mean you think Gray should remarry. Well, I doubt that he’ll ever do that,’ Ross told them. ‘Rumour has it that he swore after the divorce that he’d never marry again, and he certainly doesn’t come across as the kind of man it would be easy to get close to emotionally.’
‘No, he isn’t,’ Sarah agreed feelingly.
And yet Gray wasn’t a cold man. Even without that kiss she would have known that. Sometimes it was almost as though she could actually feel the tension of everything that he was holding back inside himself like a heat given off through his skin.
Since she had started working for him he seemed to have become increasingly short-tempered with her, increasingly critical and sometimes so unfairly that she wondered if he was actually trying to provoke her into breaking their contract and leaving. And yet if he wanted to get rid of her he only had to say so, surely, and he had not struck her as the kind of man who would be too cowardly to take that kind of action, using unfair manipulation instead so that the burden of the decision lay with her and not with him.
And yet there were times when he looked at her almost as though he hated her.
He was also coming in later and later at night so that she was forced to stay on well beyond her finishing time of six o’clock.
Whenever she mentioned this fact he countered by reminding her that he had wanted her to live in.
Take tonight for instance, she reflected tiredly as she ironed the last of Robbie’s new school shirts.
Gray had promised that he would be back for six, as she had explained to him that she was going out for dinner, making up a foursome with Sally and Ross and a business acquaintance of Ross’s, who was in the area for a couple of days on business.
They were not trying to matchmake, Sally had assured her when she had first mentioned the dinner date; Sarah was not so sure, but she owed her cousin far too much to refuse to go along with their plans.
However, it was now half-past seven, and she had already had to ring Sally and warn her that it looked as though she would not be able to join them, and predictably and understandably her cousin had not been too pleased.
‘Oh, this really is the limit,’ she had complained. ‘It’s almost as though he’s done it deliberately. Have you rung the factory?’
‘Yes, and apparently no one seems to know where he is. He left after lunch for a business appointment and said that he would be coming straight home.’ Sarah had bitten her lip and asked her cousin anxiously, ‘You don’t think there’s been an accident, do you?’
Instantly Sally’s anger had evaporated. ‘Oh, heavens, I hope not…but perhaps you’d better check. Although I should have thought if something like that had happened…Still…’
‘I’ll ring the police,’ Sarah had told her shakily.
* * *
HALF AN HOUR LATER, having confirmed as best she could that there were no reports of Gray being involved in an accident, and yet shakily conscious of the fact that that did not necessarily mean that nothing had happened to him, she was just sitting beside the phone when she heard the sound of his car coming up the drive.
Instantly her fear turned to adrenalin-fuelled rage, not just that he should be late, but that he should have, even if unknowingly, put her through so much anxiety and dread.
She was on her feet as he walked in through the door, her face pale with strain, her eyes huge and glittering in the darkness of the lamp-lit hallway, a slim, almost ethereal silhouette whose feminine shape and posture suddenly made Gray ache so unbearably and agonisingly that it took a physical effort for him to stop himself from going up to her and taking hold of her, from holding her and touching her, from kissing her…not as though she were a stranger, but as though she were a woman with whom he had been so intimate already that her body and its responses were so well known to him, that her senses were so receptive to and so aroused by him that he could make love to her there where she stood, expunging all the irritations, the pain, the anguish, the sheer weight of everything that oppressed him by losing himself within her, and that in doing so he would know that she understood, that she accepted…that her feelings for him…her love for him would allow him such a selfish release of all that was pent up inside him, without criticising or condemning him for it.
He had even taken the first step towards her when suddenly his illusion was shattered, her voice cold and ice-sharp as she demanded bitingly, ‘You promised me you would be back for six. I have a dinner date tonight.’
The shock of that cold little voice, and the look that accompanied it, was like a jet of iced water touching too hot skin, causing an almost physical pain within him, so that he retaliated immediately, for once his emotional guard failing him as he threw back at her, ‘What stopped you leaving, then, if your dinner date was so damned important?’
Sarah stared at him in shocked anger.
‘You know that I can’t leave Robbie on his own,’ she told him.
‘Why not?’ Gray demanded savagely. ‘His mother did. In fact, it was because she left him on his own so much that her own mother eventually intervened and took charge of him. Well, if your damned dinner date is so important to you…more important than Robbie…don’t let me keep you. In fact, if it’s so damned important to you you can leave now, and don’t bother coming back.’
His attack was so unexpected, so flagrantly unfair that Sarah could only stare at him in shocked disbelief.
She could feel the tears starting to sting her eyes, and knew with appalling clarity that if she stayed where she was she would be unable to stop herself from bursting into tears. The last thing she could cope with now was to have Gray witness her emotional weakness and vulnerability, and so she did the only thing she was capable of doing: she snatched up her bag and, averting her face, she almost ran past Gray and through the still half-open door.
Crashing the gears of her car in her frantic desire to get away, she drove down the drive, stopping just before she got to the main road so that she could steady her nerves and blow her nose.
It made no difference to the tears now flooding her eyes, she discovered as she gulped back the sobs threatening to overwhelm her.
It was just shock, she told herself. Just shock, that was all. But beneath her shock ran a quickly rising tide of misery and pain. It made no difference telling herself that she had known all along what Gray was like; that she had warned herself not to allow her feelings for him to paint him in softer, warmer colours than the harsh, critical shades which really portrayed him…that it was her own fault if now she was suffering for that vulnerability.
But to attack her like that when he was the one…She gulped back her tears and blew her nose again.
She still could not believe that he had actually dismissed her. That he had actually lost his temper with such savagery and immediacy…that he had actually lost emotional control like that when he was always…always so strongly in control of what he felt and how he reacted…when he hardly ever said a single word that had not been prejudged…when he never made a move that wasn’t guarded and wary.
By the time she reached the cottage her temper had cooled, leaving her feeling sick and shaky.
She had never been a violently emotional person, always thinking of herself as a little too quiet, her emotions contained and controlled, but this evening…
She gave a small shudder as she let herself into the empty cottage and filled the kettle with water to make herself a drink.
Perhaps because of the too abrupt swing from the fear of thinking that Gray might actually be injured, and lying helpless and un
aware in some distant hospital, to the bitter reality of his arrival home whole and unhurt, and so patently uncaring of the anxiety, the fear he had caused her, never mind the fact that he was so late when he had known that she was going out, had been the cause of her unexpectedly intense anger.
Yes, she had some cause for reacting the way she had, but as for Gray himself…he had seemed almost to welcome her anger…to invite and incite it, and yet he must have known that he was in the wrong. And then, to have dismissed her…
She gave another shudder, deeper this time. She would have to go back, of course, if only to explain to Robbie. But how could she explain…what would she say? She certainly didn’t want to do anything that might prejudice the very fragile relationship Robbie was trying to establish with his father.
Another different kind of anger swept over her. How could Gray be so selfish, so uncaring of Robbie’s feelings? Didn’t he realise how this could affect the little boy?
It was late when Sally and Ross returned, and of course they had to hear the whole story, Ross frowning when she related Gray’s reaction to her own anger.
‘It seems to me that it’s a situation you’re well out of,’ he announced when he had heard her out.
‘But Robbie—’ Sarah began.
Ross shook his head. ‘I know how concerned you are for him, Sarah,’ he told her. ‘As I said before, you’re far too soft-hearted. But, to some extent, while you’re living here with us we are responsible for you. Yes, I know you’re an adult…and fully capable of making your own decisions, but I’m not at all happy with the way Gray has started behaving towards you. In fact I’m half tempted to go round there and have a word with him…’
‘Oh, no…please don’t do that,’ Sarah begged him.
She had gone so white and looked so strained that, even though he was still frowning and looking very grave, Ross gave in and said, ‘All right, if you prefer me not to, but I can’t pretend that I’m not relieved that you won’t be working for him any longer.’
‘I’ll have to go back to see Robbie,’ Sarah told them both. ‘I can’t just leave him, even if Gray does explain to him.’
‘Why don’t you leave it until either Sally or I are able to go with you?’ Ross suggested, but Sarah immediately shook her head.
‘No, I’m not hiding behind either of you. As you said, I’m an adult and as such I am fully capable of fighting my own battles. Tonight I was off guard…but tomorrow…’
* * *
SHE WAS AWAKE well before dawn, hardly having slept at all, and she dressed carefully, not in her normal work clothes, but in a smart sober suit that reflected the sternness of her mood. She had no intention of trying to persuade Gray to change his mind, of grovelling at his feet, so to speak, and begging for her job back, but she was determined that she was going to see Robbie and that she was going to explain to him as gently and as best she could what had happened, without in any way laying any blame at his father’s door. For Robbie’s sake, she could not…would not do that.
When she drew up outside the house half an hour later it was ablaze with lights. Even before she was out of the car the front door was flung open and Gray came racing down the steps towards her, asking her urgently as she opened the car door, ‘Robbie…is he with you?’
Robbie with her? In his anxiety Gray had taken hold of her arm. He was standing so close to her that she could smell the hot, sharp scent of maleness and fear that clung to him. An overnight growth of beard darkened his jaw. He was wearing a T-shirt and a worn pair of jeans; he looked, she recognised, as though he had been up half the night, and the anxiety that surrounded him almost like an aura was now enveloping her as well, her eyes darkening with fear as she demanded sharply, ‘No, Robbie isn’t with me. Why?’
‘I can’t find him. I brought some work home with me last night. I don’t know why…but I couldn’t sleep well.’ He was avoiding looking at her, Sarah noticed, his voice uneven and harsh as though it masked emotions he was reluctant to betray.
‘I was up early. I went to look in on Robbie and he wasn’t there. I’ve checked the house but there doesn’t seem to be any sign of him.’
A shocked feeling of disbelief was gripping Sarah.
‘Last night,’ she asked him sharply. ‘Did you go up to see him last night after I’d left?’
Now he focused on her, his eyes bloodshot and vague with emotional strain.
He hesitated and then shook his head…and even though she had not voiced her criticism he defended himself bleakly.
‘I’d brought some work home with me. I thought he would be asleep. I didn’t want to disturb him.’
You mean you didn’t want to be bothered, Sarah thought bleakly, but she kept the thought to herself. She could tell from his expression just how much he was suffering…just how guilty he felt. Nothing could be achieved by criticising him now.
When she remained silent there was a small pause, and then to her surprise he said gruffly, ‘Thanks.’
The shock of it made her look at him, her eyes wide and unguarded as they betrayed her emotions.
‘For what?’ she asked him shakily.
‘For not saying what I know you must be thinking. That I should have gone up to check on him.’The emotion…the despair…the guilt in his voice made her body physically ache in sympathy with him. ‘God knows, I know I should have done it…but I didn’t, and now he’s gone.’
‘You’re sure he’s actually left the house?’ Sarah asked him.
‘As sure as I can be. I’ve searched every room and cupboard twice over. My one hope was that he might have come to you.’
Her mouth had gone dry with fear and anxiety.
‘The police,’ she asked him quietly. ‘Have you…?’
He shook his head.
‘No. I was just about to ring you, to find out if he was with you, and if not to ask for your advice.’
He had been going to ask her for advice. The shock of it made her gape up at him.
‘You don’t believe me? I’m not surprised. After the way I behaved last night…Oh, God…where on earth is he? Why has he left? I thought he was settling down…coming to realise…’
‘I think we’d better ring the police,’ Sarah told him gently. Without realising what she was doing she had reached out and touched his arm; a soothing, comforting gesture, an automatic response to his anguish, and yet when he stopped speaking, and looked first at where her hand rested on his arm and then at her, she suddenly became heart-jerkingly aware of the hard heat of his skin, of its fine covering of silky hair, of the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch, of the sheer living, breathing maleness of him.
Her breath caught in her throat, she couldn’t breathe…couldn’t think…couldn’t move, and then suddenly she jerked back from him, her face paling with awareness and guilt.
How could she be feeling like this when all her thoughts, all her emotions ought to be concentrated on Robbie? How could she have ever allowed herself to feel that searching shocking surge of physical desire, especially when Gray himself had made it so clear how little he liked her, never mind how little he desired her?
She rang the police, dialling the number with shaky fingers. Their response was instant and somehow comforting. There would be someone with them within half an hour, they assured her, and in the meantime they must try not to panic.
Try not to panic? How was that possible? She only had to think of the way she had first met Robbie…of his naïve belief then that he could make his own way to London.
Her heart almost stopped. She turned to Gray.
‘You don’t think he’s heading for London, do you…for his grandmother’s housekeeper? When I first met him…’
Gray shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea. You know more about him…the way he thinks, the way he’s likely to act, than I do. I was so sure he’d go to you. That was all I could think of—that he’d be with you. God help me. I even thought that you had…’ He stopped shaking his head, but she had already guessed wha
t he had been about to say.
‘You honestly thought that? That I would encourage him to leave home…a child of that age?’ Although she tried to remain calm, her voice betrayed her.
‘I’m sorry…I…I just don’t seem to be able to think straight these days. As you’ve probably heard on the grapevine, my experience of your sex hasn’t been entirely conducive to…to trust.’
Sarah looked gravely at him.
‘Trust, like any other emotion, is a two-way thing,’ she told him quietly. ‘I would never do anything that might hurt Robbie, no matter what my personal feelings towards you might be. I know I over-reacted last night.’ This seemed as good a time as any to say what had to be said, now that the barriers were momentarily down between them and they were joined together in their anxiety for Robbie. ‘But I felt so guilty about letting my cousin and her husband down at the last minute, especially when they were entertaining a business client.’
Gray was frowning. ‘You were having dinner with your cousin?’
‘I was making a foursome with them,’ Sarah told him. She broke off as she heard a car coming up the drive. ‘That must be the police.’
‘Yes,’ Gray agreed tersely, heading for the front door. ‘I’ll go and let them in.’
Half an hour later, having gone through his wardrobe and cupboards, Sarah had managed to give the police a detailed list of what Robbie was wearing.
His decision to leave had probably been made on impulse, the WPC told her, trying to comfort her, because it was their experience that when children of no matter what age planned to leave home they invariably took some favourite possession and a change of clothes with them. Robbie had taken nothing, and, to judge from the state of his drawers, he had dressed himself in something of a hurry as well.
‘Did anything happen yesterday…anything at all which might have caused him to be upset?’
Sarah thought and then shook her head. ‘Not as far as I know.’