The Unwilling Mistress

by Carole Mortimer

  March shook her head. ‘There’s no need. I’ll get another job, and then—’

  ‘Now who’s running away, March?’ Will challenged grimly. ‘You and I both know you can’t just leave that situation as it is. From what you told me, Carter is obviously breaking the law. Are you really intending to just walk away and let him get away with that?’

  If it was only Clive that was involved, then the answer to that would be a definite no, but there was Michelle to consider too… Quiet, sweet Michelle, who had always been kind to her.

  March’s chin rose determinedly. ‘I have no proof of my suspicions. Clive found the file I had been keeping locked away in my desk drawer. He’s probably destroyed it by now,’ she added heavily.

  For months she had been troubled by the fact that properties had been sold by the agency, to what appeared to be some sort of holding company, only to reappear on the market several months later to be sold for a considerable profit.

  Oh, she knew the property market was booming at the moment, but even so it had happened too often, once a month on her estimation, for it to all seem like a coincidence. Clive’s response to the file she had started to keep only confirmed that opinion.

  ‘You must have enough information stored inside your head to go to the police with your suspicions,’ Will said sceptically.

  Yes, she did, probably more than enough. But there was still Michelle to consider…

  Will gave a disgusted shake of his head. ‘Obviously I can’t force you to do anything about that situation,’ he rasped. ‘Although I never thought of you as a coward before,’ he added derisively.

  Two spots of angry colour appeared in March’s cheeks as she glared at him. He had no idea what he was talking about, none whatsoever.

  ‘Life’s full of surprises, isn’t it?’ she dismissed scathingly.

  Will drew in an angry breath. ‘Well, here’s another one for you! Graham Whitford owns the Graford Gallery in London—mean anything to you?’ he challenged impatiently.

  Her eyes widened. Of course it meant something to her. The Graford Gallery was one of the most prestigious privately owned galleries in London, was patronized by art collectors from all over the world, was the leading gallery for discovering new and collectable artists—

  And Graham Whitford, the owner of that gallery, had just offered her an exhibition of her work…!

  ‘I can see that it does.’ Will nodded with satisfaction, his gaze impatient. ‘Do you really think a man of that calibre would risk the reputation of his gallery to exhibit an unknown artist with no talent?’

  When he put it like that—!

  ‘Worse,’ Will grated harshly, ‘do you think a man of that calibre would accept money as an inducement to risk the reputation of not only his gallery but himself as well by exhibiting that artist with no talent?’

  March gave a pained wince as the full import of his words hit her like the slap in the face she had given him earlier.

  Graham Whitford had really been serious about that offer of an exhibition of her work!

  She swallowed hard, her hand shaking as she pushed the dark swathe of her hair back from the paleness of her cheeks. ‘Maybe I was wrong about that—’

  ‘Maybe?’ Will ground out harshly.

  March moistened dry lips. ‘I—I—’

  ‘Maybe you were wrong about a lot of things, March,’ Will continued remorselessly over her halting reply. ‘Me, in particular. You know, I came to the area knowing I wasn’t exactly going to be the flavour of the month. It happens.’ He shrugged. ‘For different reasons, people resist change—’

  ‘You—’

  ‘For different reasons, they resist change,’ he repeated hardly, his expression grim. ‘And very often those reasons are perfectly valid—’

  ‘As mine are,’ she cut in determinedly.

  ‘Maybe,’ he conceded. ‘But was that any reason for you to make my life a misery? To be rude and obstructive at every turn? To suspect my every motive?’

  ‘You work for Jude Marshall!’ she reminded accusingly.

  ‘At this moment in time, yes, I do.’ He nodded tersely.

  ‘But I offered to work with you on this,’ he reminded coldly. ‘I suggested days ago that there must be some way you and I could work together to come up with a plan that would satisfy all parties. But you’re so busy feeling angry, and sorry for yourself, that—not again,’ he warned hardly as March rose angrily to her feet, reaching out to firmly grasp her arms and hold her immobile in front of him. ‘You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life, March,’ he breathed raggedly. ‘But, without doubt, also the most stupid!’

  She opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. Did Will really think she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life…?

  ‘Oh, to hell with this.’ Will sighed disgustedly. ‘This is just one more thing to add to the list of reasons to hate me!’ he rasped before his mouth came forcefully down on hers.

  It was a kiss of anger, of frustration, of sheer impotence of feeling.

  But it was a kiss March responded to…

  She loved this man, loved him beyond anyone and anything. And very shortly he was going to walk out of her life and she was never going to see him again.

  She sobbed low in her throat, her lips answering the passion between them that it was impossible to deny, Will releasing her arms to pull her against the hardness of his body as he deepened the kiss.

  March wound her arms about his waist, pressing close against him, wanting only to be part of him, to forget everything else but Will and the overwhelming love she felt for him.

  Which was why she was left totally dazed when Will pulled roughly away from her seconds later to move determinedly to the other side of the bedroom, his expression grimmer than ever. March looked at him questioningly.

  ‘Oh, no you don’t.’ He gave a self-derisive laugh as he shook his head. ‘You may feel you have plenty of reason to hate me, March, but I have no intention of giving you reason to regret me too!’

  Her face was pale, her eyes dark. ‘But I—’

  ‘Graham and I will be leaving as soon as I’ve got my few belongings together,’ Will cut sharply across the protest she was about to make. ‘I doubt we shall see each other again, so—well, goodbye,’ he concluded abruptly.

  Goodbye.

  That had to be the saddest word in the whole of the English language.

  Especially when March was saying it to the man she knew she loved above all else…!

  She had fallen in love with Will in spite of his connection to Jude Marshall. Despite all her own instincts. Or because of them…

  ‘Will—’

  ‘I think you’ve already said enough, don’t you, March?’ he rasped scathingly, blue gaze bleak now that his anger had faded somewhat. ‘But Graham is probably more forgiving than me—especially when it comes to the discovery of a new and talented artist,’ he added derisively. ‘So I’m sure he will be only too happy to talk to you if you should change your mind about his offer of an exhibition.’

  Despite his own anger towards her, March knew Will was being more than generous in telling her this. Because he didn’t have to, didn’t have to do anything more for her. Especially when she had shown him nothing more than ingratitude in return.

  She so wanted to cry, so wanted to give in to the terrible pain of Will’s departure. But that wouldn’t be fair to him, not after all she had already put him through.

  Besides, she didn’t think she could stand to see his pity if he should realize the reason for her pain…

  ‘Thank you,’ she breathed shakily. ‘I—have a good journey back to London,’ she added lamely.

  His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘Thanks. About the situation at the agency—’

  ‘I’ll—think about it.’ She nodded quickly, still not sure what to do about that.

  Will grimaced. ‘If it comes to light anyway, and anyone finds out that you already knew about it, you could—I’m onl
y saying could—be dragged in as an accomplice. At the very least, be accused of perverting the course of justice by keeping quiet about it,’ he warned as she would have protested.

  March moistened dry lips. She had already thought of that aspect, knew that she didn’t really have any choice but to go to the police with what she had discovered. It just wasn’t something she wanted to do.

  She nodded. ‘I’ll—sort it out.’

  ‘Fine.’ Will nodded abruptly. ‘Take care,’ he murmured softly.

  He was going. Really going. And there wasn’t a thing she could say or do to stop him.

  ‘And you,’ she breathed huskily.

  He closed the bedroom door quietly behind him as he left, the sound of his feet descending the stairs heard seconds later, followed by the murmur of voices in the kitchen, then the closing of the outer door. And Will was gone.

  March wanted to run after him, to tell him how sorry she was for her behaviour, how much she wanted him to stay, how much she— What? Loved him? That really would be unfair. Especially when Will couldn’t possibly feel the same way about her.

  How could he? When she had been ‘rude and obstructive’ to him. ‘Made his life a misery’ almost since the moment he’d arrived.

  The tears were falling softly down her cheeks when May entered her bedroom a few minutes later, her sister’s expression softening as she saw March’s tears.

  ‘Oh, March!’ May choked even as she gathered her into her arms.

  Oh, March, indeed. What a mess she had made of everything. What an unforgivable mess.

  ‘Are you sure this is the right thing for you to do?’

  Will turned briefly from throwing his things into his bag to look at Graham as he sat on one of the kitchen chairs watching him frowningly. ‘The right thing to do would have been never to have come here in the first place,’ he bit out harshly, at the same time resuming his haphazard packing.

  ‘You know you don’t mean that,’ Graham rebuked softly.

  ‘Oh, don’t I?’ He turned sharply, his anger unmistakable. ‘This whole situation has been impossible from the beginning. But only because of March. She’s the most impossible woman I have ever met in my life!’

  Graham grimaced. ‘She’s—a little fiery,’ he allowed.

  ‘A little!’ Will scorned. ‘She’s rude, sarcastic, outspoken—’

  ‘Beautiful,’ Graham put in softly.

  ‘Beauty is as beauty does—or something like that,’ Will added impatiently as Graham raised mocking brows. ‘Why can’t she be like May—still beautiful, but charming and reasonable at the same time?’

  Graham held back a smile. ‘Because you aren’t in love with May.’

  Will’s eyes widened indignantly at this last statement. ‘I’m not in love with March either,’ he stated firmly.

  ‘Aren’t you?’ his friend mused softly.

  ‘No, I am not,’ Will assured him firmly. ‘Damn it, even having a simple conversation with her turns into a confrontation!’

  ‘But it’s worth it, I’m sure,’ Graham reasoned teasingly.

  Will thought of the occasions he had held March in his arms, of kissing her, caressing her, feeling the silky softness of her skin against his…

  ‘Maybe,’ he allowed grudgingly, some of his anger starting to fade.

  Besides, who was he most angry with: March for being so unreasonable, or himself for feeling about her the way that he did? Not that he accepted Graham’s statement that he was in love with her; how could he possibly be in love with someone he felt like strangling half the time?

  Because the other half of the time he just wanted to hold her, to take care of her, to ensure that nothing and no one ever harmed her…!

  He was not in love with March Calendar!

  ‘No,’ he decided firmly. ‘The sooner I’m away from here, the better I will like it.’ He turned to slam his bag shut and close the zip. ‘I honestly wish I had never met March Calendar!’

  ‘Hello, March,’ Graham greeted lightly behind him.

  ‘Anything we can do for you?’

  ‘Very funny, Graham,’ Will muttered dryly. ‘Aren’t you a little old for juvenile tricks like that?’ he derided as he turned round.

  March stood in the open doorway, her face as white as snow, her eyes so darkly enigmatic it was impossible to tell what colour they were. Or whether or not she had heard his telling statement before Graham had announced her presence!

  ‘Who was being juvenile?’ Graham murmured under his breath as he watched the two of them curiously.

  If the floor could have opened up and swallowed him, Will knew he would have been for ever thankful. But, of course, it did no such thing, leaving him face to face with March after stating quite categorically that he wished he had never met her!

  ‘March—’

  ‘May wanted you to have this.’ March moved to put an envelope down on the kitchen table.

  So that she didn’t have to actually touch him, Will was sure, his anger returning at this obvious display of her aversion to him. ‘What is it?’ he snapped.

  March shrugged. ‘A cheque for the second week’s rental on the studio. We don’t want it,’ she added decisively as Will would have protested. ‘You aren’t staying here, so we aren’t entitled to it,’ she told him dismissively.

  To say he felt as if he had been slapped on the face for a second time this evening was probably putting it a little strongly, but he certainly felt as if May now supported her sister’s stand against him.

  ‘Fine,’ he rasped, making no effort to pick up the white envelope.

  And he wouldn’t pick it up, either, would leave it on the table after he had left. But no doubt the Calendar sisters would find some way of twisting even that gesture round so that he once again came out as the bad guy. He just couldn’t seem to win with them.

  March turned to Graham, some of her stiffness of manner fading as she gave him a rueful smile. ‘I believe I also owe you an apology; I shouldn’t have said those things to you earlier.’ She grimaced. ‘It was just—’

  ‘My friend here getting it wrong, as usual,’ Graham accepted, standing up, totally ignoring Will’s snort of protest. ‘I realize now that my being here at all must have been something of a shock to you,’ he sympathized with March. ‘I’ll give you my card.’ He took one from his wallet and held it out to her. ‘Think it over and give me a call if you decide to go ahead with the exhibition, after all, hmm?’ he encouraged.

  Will wasn’t in the least fooled by Graham’s lightly encouraging attitude, knew his friend well enough to know that he wasn’t about to give up on persuading March into the exhibition, that having ‘found’ her he wasn’t going to let her just disappear again.

  On the one hand Will was pleased for March, knew that any exhibition of her work that Graham put on for her was sure to be a success. But on the more negative side, if March went ahead with the exhibition it would mean that she would continue to be in Will’s life whether he wanted her to be or not. Graham was an old and valued friend, Will godfather to his youngest daughter, and as such it would be impossible for Graham not to talk about March in the future when the two men met.

  But the latter was a selfish attitude, he knew, and one best kept to himself…

  ‘Take the card, March,’ he advised dryly.

  ‘If you’re sure you don’t mind…?’ She gave him a searching look.

  Will gave a humourless laugh. ‘I was the one who brought the two of you together in the first place; why should I mind?’

  March shrugged. ‘Possibly because you wish you had never met me,’ she returned with some of her usual spirit, dark brows raised mockingly.

  So she had heard his final statement before Graham had announced her presence! He had thought she must have, but March had just bluntly confirmed it.

  Not much he could do about that, was there? Especially as it was true! For numerous reasons…

  He gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘There’s never a hole for you to f
all down when you want one!’

  March gave the ghost of a smile. ‘Join the club,’ she returned enigmatically before turning back to Graham. ‘Thank you for this.’ She indicated the card he had given her. ‘I’m not sure yet, but—I will call you and let you know one way or the other.’

  ‘Good enough.’ Graham nodded.

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ Will put in forcefully. ‘March, you may never have another opportunity like this one,’ he told her impatiently as she looked at him questioningly.

  ‘I’m well aware of that,’ she acknowledged huskily.

  ‘But there are—other considerations to take into account, before I come to any decision.’

  Will wanted to demand to know what those considerations were, but knew that he had forfeited the right to ask by the fact that he had made that blunt statement about wishing he had never met her, and by March overhearing it. Besides, there was always the possibility that having to see him again might be one of those considerations!

  His mouth tightened. ‘Just don’t leave Graham waiting too long, March,’ he bit out tersely.

  She gave him a dismissive look before turning back to Graham. ‘I really am grateful for your interest,’ she assured him with much more warmth than she had just shown Will.

  And could he really blame her for that, after what she had overheard?

  But there was no way he could retract what he had said without making the situation worse than it already was. If that were possible!

  He really needed to get away from here, away from March, to sit calmly and collectedly and work out exactly what it was he felt for her. Because he had just realized that leaving her was probably the hardest thing he had ever done in his life!

  But leave her he must. For both their sakes.

  But March was the one leaving now, raising a hand in farewell before quietly closing the door behind her.

  ‘If I weren’t already a married man…’ Graham murmured appreciatively.

  ‘But you are,’ Will reminded sharply, a shaft of—something, something painful, shooting through him at the other man’s obvious admiration of March. ‘And likely to remain that way,’ he added with satisfaction.