‘Okay,’ she conceded lightly, earning herself a searching glance from Will now as he puzzled over the possible reason for her easy acquiescence.
Oh, well, a puzzled Will Davenport had to be preferable to a knowing one!
‘Your place or mine?’ he prompted once they were outside in the crisp night air.
March shot him a pitying glance for his facetiousness, receiving a wide-eyed innocent look in return that didn’t fool her for a minute. ‘Ours,’ she answered flatly. ‘It’s warmer,’ she added by way of explanation as he raised questioning brows.
‘Really?’ He shrugged. ‘Obviously I’ve been out all day, but I’ve found the heat in the studio in the evenings more than adequate so far.’ He gave her a challenging look.
A look March returned with obvious irritation. If he were hoping to embarrass her by covert references to yesterday evening, then he was going to be out of luck; she had more important things on her mind this evening—such as May’s screen test tomorrow. Or not…as the case may be.
‘You—’
‘There’s more room in the farmhouse,’ May put in briskly. ‘We’ll go and get out the glasses while you collect the bottle of wine.’ She looped her arm firmly through March’s in order to pull her towards the kitchen door. ‘What’s going on?’ she hissed softly.
‘Going on?’ March delayed lightly. ‘Why, nothing.’ She gave a definite shake of her head.
May gave her a reproving look as the two of them entered the warmth of the kitchen, that look turning to one of narrow-eyed searching as the sudden silence in the kitchen became overwhelming. At least, it seemed so to March!
What could her sister see in her face? What emotion was it giving away now?
‘Not another one!’ May finally gasped incredulously.
‘What?’ She frowned, her hands turning into fists at her sides as she tried to withstand that penetrating look from May.
‘I don’t believe it.’ May shook her head dazedly.
‘How on earth did that happen? The man’s only been here a couple of days!’
March gave an impatient snort as she shook her head. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she dismissed impatiently, reaching up into the cupboard to take out the wineglasses. As May obviously wasn’t going to!
‘You’re in love with Will Davenport,’ May stated shakily.
March had turned so sharply at her sister’s statement that one of the glasses slipped out of her hand and shattered on the tiled floor. Unnoticed by either of them, it seemed.
May simply stared at March disbelievingly, obviously deeply shaken by her own observation.
As for March—shaken didn’t even begin to describe how she felt!
In love with Will Davenport?
She couldn’t be!
‘Here we are—’ Will broke off his cheery greeting as he entered the kitchen and saw the two sisters simply staring at each other, both of them pale as magnolias.
A smashed glass lay on the floor between them, and yet it didn’t seem as if one of them had thrown it at the other, no anger burning in either of their faces—in fact they both looked more shocked than angry.
Will had no idea what could have taken place between the two sisters in the short time he had been gone—but something certainly had! May was staring at March in complete disbelief, and March was staring at him in exactly the same manner.
May was the first to recover, seeming to shake herself slightly as she turned to face him. ‘Sorry.’ She gave the ghost of a smile. ‘We were—um—discussing farm business,’ she dismissed evasively.
And untruthfully, if Will were any judge of character; March was the more easily readable of the sisters, but May was definitely the more honest. And she wasn’t being honest now.
‘Someone seems to have had an accident,’ he pointed out lightly, glancing down at the broken glass that lay on the floor between the two sisters.
‘That was me,’ March acknowledged shakily, her face turned away, her hair falling forward to shield her expression as she went down on her haunches to begin picking up the shattered glass.
‘Not like that!’ Will moved quickly, grabbing her wrist to pull her back to her feet. ‘You’ll cut yourself—’ He broke off as he discovered he was already too late in his warning, March even now pulling a sliver of the glass from one of her fingers, blood instantly welling from the cut it left.
She looked up sharply, her gaze glitteringly hard as she looked at him challengingly. ‘Aren’t you going to faint?’ she bit out harshly.
Strangely enough, no. Perhaps it was only the sight of blood in the abstract, when the person was unknown to him, only the blood seeming real. But he knew he wasn’t going to faint at the sight of March’s blood, that he only wanted to do something to stop the bleeding, to take away the pain for her if he could.
‘Here.’ May was the one to hand him a clean cloth.
Will took it, hesitating before wrapping it about her finger. ‘Is all the glass out?’ he rasped as March winced.
‘Don’t fuss, Will!’ she snapped, at the same time pulling her hand out of his grasp. ‘I already have two mother hens in May and January, I don’t need a third one!’ she added nastily.
‘March!’ May gasped, obviously scandalized.
‘Why don’t the two of you just leave me alone?’ March cried, eyes blazing angrily, before she turned and ran from the room.
Will looked at May, noting the paleness of her cheeks, the unshed tears swimming in huge green eyes.
May looked back at him concernedly, letting him know that he probably didn’t look much better than she did!
‘Was it something I said?’ he finally murmured ruefully.
May gave a shaky smile. ‘No—I think it may have been something I said!’ She grimaced.
Also the reason for the tension between the two sisters when he’d first entered the kitchen…?
He glanced across to the door that led out to the hallway. ‘Should I go up and see if she’s okay?’
May actually chuckled. ‘Not if you value your life!’ She gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘Leave it a while; she’ll come back down when she’s ready,’ she advised as she took the wine from him and deftly opened the bottle. ‘March is quick to anger, but just as quick to calm down again. Especially when she knows she’s the one in the wrong,’ she added huskily.
‘But—’
‘Have some wine, Will,’ May told him briskly, pouring it out into the two glasses that had remained intact. ‘You’ll see, March will come back down soon.’
There didn’t seem to be too much chance of that during the next hour as the two of them sat in the kitchen after clearing up the broken glass, talking quietly, slowly emptying the bottle of wine.
They had heard March moving around upstairs once or twice, probably to the bathroom to deal with the cut on her finger, but other than that there was no sign of her.
‘I’m sorry about this, Will,’ May finally sighed an hour later. ‘It’s all my fault, and I’m sure it isn’t me you want to be sitting here drinking wine with!’ she added ruefully.
Will gave her a considering look. ‘It isn’t?’
‘We both know that it isn’t.’ She laughed, her gaze gently reproving.
His gaze narrowed. ‘Do we?’
‘Don’t you start!’ May warned dryly, putting down her wineglass decisively. ‘I think I’ll just go up and check that she’s okay.’ She stood up.
‘Maybe I should leave—’
‘Not on my account, I hope,’ March dismissed lightly as she came into the kitchen.
Will looked at her searchingly. Whatever May had said or done earlier to upset March, the latter now had that response very firmly under control. In fact, for once, her expression was totally unreadable!
‘I’m just on my way out, anyway,’ March continued brightly, reaching for a jacket from behind the kitchen door. ‘I told Aunt Lyn that I would go over one evening this week and help her to move all the wedding pres
ents over to Sara and Josh’s cottage before they come back from their honeymoon next week,’ she added briskly.
‘Our cousin Sara was married last weekend,’ May took the time to explain to Will. ‘And I thought we both promised to go over and help.’ May looked at her sister frowningly.
March flicked back her long hair. ‘Well, as you’re obviously busy this evening…’
Will stood up abruptly. ‘I was just leaving—’
‘No, you weren’t—’
‘There’s absolutely no need for you to do that,’ March cut firmly across her sister’s protest. ‘It doesn’t need both of us, May,’ she insisted impatiently. ‘I won’t be long. You stay here and keep Will company.’ She gave him a cold glance.
Will couldn’t even begin to guess what had caused this rift between the two sisters, but he hoped that it had nothing to do with him. Or his reason for being here.
‘No, I really must be going.’ He drained his glass with one swallow. ‘I have some work to do myself this evening, anyway,’ he assured May dismissively.
‘That will certainly make a change,’ March came back crisply. ‘Jude Marshall probably wonders what he’s paying you for!’
May simply stared at her sister in embarrassed dismay, obviously having given up, for the moment, on trying to curb March’s rudeness.
Will counted to ten before answering her; losing his own temper, something he rarely did anyway, would not help the situation. ‘As it happens, he hasn’t paid me anything yet.’ He kept his voice deliberately even. ‘I only get paid when I produce the finished article.’
‘Then you had better get on with it, hadn’t you?’ March bit out scathingly.
He counted to twenty this time, not sure that even that was going to be enough to stop the sharp reply he wanted to give her. He had never met anyone, male or female, who could be as outspokenly rude as March Calendar.
He gave an acknowledging inclination of his head, blue gaze narrowed. ‘I intend to.’
Maybe, after all, the best thing for all of them would be for him to remove his presence from the farm as quickly as possible; the last thing he wanted to do was be the cause of a lasting friction between the two sisters.
If, indeed, he was the cause. Which he wasn’t sure of. But it was enough that he now felt extremely uncomfortable in their presence. ‘Have a good evening,’ he told May—more out of hope than a belief that she would, deciding it was best not to try and say anything else to March this evening.
She might be quick to anger, and quick to calm down again, but at the moment that certainly wasn’t in evidence!
May walked him to the door, standing outside on the step. ‘I’m really sorry about this, Will,’ she told him huskily, shaking her head regretfully.
‘Don’t be,’ he assured her. ‘It’s you I feel sorry for,’ he added with feeling.
She chuckled softly. ‘Then don’t,’ she assured him with a smile. ‘March is only angry because she knows she’s the one in the wrong.’
He raised blond brows. ‘You would never know it to look at her!’
‘But I know March, you see,’ May added softly.
‘That’s the real problem,’ she said enigmatically.
It was just too complex for Will to even begin to work out. If he wanted to. And he wasn’t sure that he did. Oh, he still found March the most beautiful and fascinating woman he had ever met, but he hardly knew her in this coldly sarcastic mood, certainly couldn’t tell what she was thinking or feeling. And without that, she was merely a beautiful enigma…
‘Rather you than me!’ he told May with feeling, raising a hand in parting as he walked briskly across to the studio without a backward glance.
What on earth could May have said or done to March to cause her to behave in that uncharacteristic way?
He simply didn’t know. From the little May had said on the subject, she wasn’t about to tell him, either. And it was a sure fact that March wasn’t going to!
CHAPTER NINE
‘MARCH—’
‘I do not wish to discuss it!’ she cut in sharply on May’s tentative attempt to breach the strained silence between them once Will had left. ‘Other than to say that you’re totally wrong,’ she added hardly—totally nullifying her previous statement!
‘Am I?’
‘Yes!’ Her eyes flashed, her face pale. ‘I am not in love with Will Davenport!’
Yet…
Because she was very much afraid that, until May had made the observation earlier, she had been well on her way to being just that!
She certainly responded to him in a way she never had with any other man. She also quite enjoyed the verbal sparring that went on between them. And there was no denying that her heart gave a jolt every time she saw him.
But that wasn’t necessarily love, was it? Sexual attraction. Sexual awareness. But not love.
Because she refused to be in love with a man who was so closely associated with Jude Marshall!
January might have fallen into that trap, and Max, in his wisdom, had decided that it was better for all concerned if he severed his business ties with Jude Marshall. But that didn’t mean any relationship March had with Will would turn out the same way. And she refused to even consider anything less.
As such she refused to love Will Davenport!
‘You can’t choose whether or not to love someone, March.’ May’s gentle rebuke told March that she must have actually spoken those last words out loud.
She blinked, a little disconcerted at having expressed her feelings so openly. ‘Of course you can. I just did,’ she dismissed briskly. ‘Now are you coming with me to Aunt Lyn’s or not?’ she prompted abruptly.
‘I am,’ May conceded dryly. ‘But let me have a look at that finger first, hmm?’
March looked across at her sister in exasperation, that exasperation quickly turning to affection as May looked back at her teasingly.
March stepped forward, all the tension going out of her as she gave her sister a hug. ‘I do love you, May.’ She chuckled ruefully.
‘I love you too,’ May returned huskily. ‘Which is why I don’t want you to make yourself unhappy about this situation. It worked out okay for January, why shouldn’t it work out for you and—?’
‘I’ll make a deal with you, May,’ she cut in dryly.
‘You don’t mention Will again this evening, and I’ll take care of the farm over the weekend while you go down to London for the screen test.’ She gave May a knowing look as her sister gave a surprised gasp. ‘I told you he was a snake in the grass!’ she added mischievously.
‘Will told you?’ May frowned. ‘But how—when—?’
‘Never mind the how or when,’ March dismissed briskly. ‘Give this director a call before we go out and tell him you’ll be there some time tomorrow.’
‘But—’
‘No buts, May. What’s good advice for me also applies to you,’ she stated firmly. ‘The complication of whether or not we keep or sell the farm can take care of itself for the moment. You have to at least go for the screen test, May,’ she reasoned persuasively. ‘You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t.’
March could see that her last remark had definitely hit home, May heaving a deep sigh.
And she meant it about the farm. She wanted to keep it—certainly didn’t want to sell it to someone like Jude Marshall!—but she wasn’t about to insist on keeping the farm at the cost of her sister’s happiness. May had already sacrificed so much for January and herself, she deserved to have some success of her own.
‘January is twenty-five, and engaged to be married,’ she encouraged as May still hesitated. ‘I’m twenty-six, and more than capable of taking care of myself; when are you going to stop behaving like a mother hen, May?’ she teased affectionately.
Her sister gave a rueful shrug. ‘Probably when you find someone else to take that place in your life.’
A husband, for instance…
‘That isn’t going to be for years yet,
’ she dismissed airily. ‘I may even end up that old maid Jude Marshall assumed that we all were before Max put him straight!’
‘Not you, March,’ May assured her laughingly. ‘Underneath that gruff exterior you’re the most soft-hearted of all of us. You’ll marry one day, and have a houseful of children,’ she added with certainty.
But it wouldn’t be this house, March began to accept sadly as May cleaned and bandaged her cut finger. If May succeeded in securing the offered film role, then the farm would be sold.
It would be a sad day for all of them if that happened, but maybe that was the way it was meant to be. January would be free to enjoy her happiness as Max’s wife, without any feelings of guilt because of leaving her sisters to run the farm alone; May, she was sure, was going to achieve international success an actress. And she—
Well, she had no idea what she was going to do if or when that happened, but she would do something. The job at the estate agency had only ever been a stop-gap situation, a way of bringing money into the household. Without that driving necessity, she could perhaps be a little more choosy about what she did, could maybe even find a job in an art gallery somewhere. Now that was something she would enjoy doing. She might not have sufficient talent to succeed in that field herself, but she would love to be there when other people did.
‘Or maybe you’ll pick up your paintbrush again,’ May probed gently.
March frowned. She hadn’t spoken out loud that time, she was sure, and yet the astute May had still managed to discern at least some of her thoughts.
She gave a firm shake of her head. ‘I’m not good enough; we both know that.’
‘I know nothing of the kind, March Calendar,’ May came back impatiently. ‘One art exhibition, in what was only a little local gallery anyway—’
‘The owner of that “little local gallery” was the only one who would agree to show my work!’
‘—does not mean you aren’t good enough,’ May finished determinedly.
She grimaced. ‘I sold a grand total of two paintings, May,’ she reminded dryly. ‘And I probably only sold those two because they fitted in with the colour-scheme of the sitting-room or the loo!’
The Unwilling Mistress Page 9