‘Is there a telephone I could use?’ Ryan’s voice was sharp.
The nurse moved to one side, revealing a telephone on the side-table of this private room. ‘But, Miss Shelton—’
‘I’ll call Mr Montgomery myself,’ she told the nurse firmly. ‘And then I intend leaving here.’
‘But you can’t do that!’ the nurse gasped.
‘I shall be wanting my clothes,’ Ryan insisted determinedly. ‘If you could arrange that for me?’ She was already dialling the number for the Hall, absently opening the card that came with the flowers. ‘Forgive me’, it read. There was no signature, but she didn’t need one. If Grant had already harmed Ragtag—!
‘Miss Shelton—’
‘Ah, Shelley,’ she spoke into the receiver as the butler answered her call. ‘Miss Amanda, please.’ She tapped her fingers impatiently against the receiver as she waited for Mandy to come to the telephone, and with an impatient exclamation the nurse left the room. ‘Mandy?’ Ryan said sharply as the younger girl came on the telephone.
‘Ryan!’ Mandy exclaimed her surprise. ‘I was just on my way back to the hospital. Are you all right? They said you could be out for hours, otherwise I wouldn’t have left to have lunch. How do you feel? Are you—’
‘Never mind that,’ she snapped. ‘Is Ragtag all right? Mandy, I have to know!’ she choked.
‘Of course he’s all right.’ The other girl sounded puzzled. ‘He’s here with me now.’
‘He—he is?’
‘Of course. He’s eating us out of house and home,’ she added dryly.
That sounded like the Ragtag she knew and loved. ‘Grant hasn’t—said anything?’
‘No.’ Mandy was suddenly serious. ‘Ryan, what’s happened between you two? This morning Grant seemed—elated. I thought—I thought it was because the two of you had—sorted out your difficulties.’
‘Don’t be polite, Mandy,’ she said sharply. ‘You thought we’d done more than that.’
‘No, I didn’t,’ Mandy protested, but Ryan could hear the lack of conviction in her voice.
‘You did,’ she sighed. ‘But that’s irrelevant now. Whatever—happened was a mistake, one we both realise—’
‘Not Grant—’
‘Oh yes, him too. Mandy, I want you to take care of Ragtag until I get there. Will you do that?’
‘You know I will. But, Ryan—’
‘I’ll be there in about an hour—’
‘Oh no, you won’t, young lady!’ The telephone was plucked out of her hand and the doctor spoke firmly into the receiver. ‘Miss Shelton will not be going anywhere, not today or tomorrow, and possibly not even the day after.’
‘Give me that,’ Ryan demanded, and sat up, only to crumple back against the pillows, as everything crashed in on her, the whole world seeming to rest on her temples.
For the next thirty-six hours she knew nothing, although the doctor told her afterwards that the concussion had been quite mild in the circumstances.
It didn’t feel mild to her, and she woke up with a raging thirst, and a headache that seemed to be a permanent throb in her temple. Mandy sat beside her bed, instantly putting down her magazine when she saw Ryan was awake.
‘Ragtag?’ she managed to groan between parched lips.
‘I don’t believe it! For goodness’ sake, Ryan,’ Mandy sighed impatiently. ‘You’ve been delirious for almost two days and you wake up and ask about your dog!’
‘Well?’
‘He’s fine, missing you a little I think, but otherwise he’s well. Now how are you? Grant’s been out of his mind—’
‘I don’t want to talk about Grant.’ She turned away. ‘If he’s been concerned it’s only because my accident happened while I was at the Hall.’
‘I’ll get the doctor.’ Mandy stood up. ‘We don’t want you to collapse again.’
‘By all means get the doctor,’ Ryan nodded, too weak to argue any more. ‘But I don’t want to see Grant. You understand, Mandy?’
‘I understand what you’re saying,’ Mandy sighed. ‘But I don’t know why you’re saying it.’
‘You’ll keep Ragtag—safe for me?’
‘I said I would—’
‘Promise me!’
‘All right, I promise,’ Mandy nodded impatiently. ‘I can’t understand why you keep fussing about him. He’s perfectly all right. Now just lie there until I get the doctor. Mark’s at the Hall, by the way,’ she paused at the door, ‘and he has Diana with him. The four of us have been taking it in turns to sit with you,’ she explained. ‘I’ll call him as soon as I’ve spoken to the doctor.’
Ryan saw a lot of Mandy, Mark and Diana the next few days, but, at her request, nothing of Grant. No one questioned her further about that, perhaps putting it down to the fact that she had been ill, and when it came time for her to go home it was Mark and Diana who drove her—in Grant’s Jaguar.
‘I’ll stay in the cottage with you until you’re ready to go back to London,’ Diana told her, a small pretty girl with black curly hair and warm brown eyes.
‘I’m ready now,’ she said dryly, her right leg stretched out on the back seat of the car, her crutches in the boot.
‘You look it,’ Diana grimaced. ‘And to think none of this would have happened if this stupid idiot,’ she punched Mark in the arm, ‘hadn’t persuaded you to pretend to be his girl-friend. I just may never forgive him!’
‘You’d better, you’re going to marry me,’ he mocked.
‘I haven’t decided yet. This stupid antic may change my mind,’ said Diana with pretended hauteur.
‘If you’d ever made it up in the first place,’ he grimaced, still waiting for an answer to his proposal of marriage.
‘I’m glad I didn’t now.’ She gave him a disgusted look. ‘What a stupid idea!’
‘Ryan agreed to it. Besides, it worked, didn’t it?’
Diana sighed. ‘I would hardly say that. Poor Ryan has had to put up with your brother’s rudeness, she’s got herself a dog that seems to have caused her nothing but trouble, partially adopted a lamb, and now she’s broken her ankle. You have a lot to answer for, Mark.’
‘I didn’t make her stay—’
‘You didn’t exactly make it easy for her to leave. I think—’
‘When the two of you have quite finished!’ Ryan laughed. ‘I’m adult enough to make my own decisions, and my own mistakes.’ Diana had left one thing out of the list of disasters that had befallen her since she came here, the one that hurt most of all. She loved Grant, he was her lover, and it was all over between them.
***
After three days Ryan was very competent on the crutches she had at first cursed, could manage to get about quite confidently. As Mandy had told her Ragtag was in fine health, ecstatic about having her back at the cottage, although she wasn’t confident enough on the crutches to take him for the long walks they used to enjoy together.
Mark was a constant visitor, and Ryan could see the love he and Diana had for each other deepening every day. Of Grant she saw nothing, and her life settled down to a sort of peace. She spent most of her time out in the garden, just longing for the time she could return to London.
The doctor finally gave his permission for her to travel, and with only two days to go to the weekend Mark decided they could all leave on Saturday.
‘Why don’t you put him out of his misery?’ Ryan teased Diana as the other girl prepared for her luncheon date with him. ‘Tell him you’ll marry him.’
Diana smiled. ‘Not yet. I think he deserves to suffer a little for what he got you involved in. How about you, Ryan?’ she sobered. ‘Are you going to see Grant before you leave?’
Her expression was suddenly blank, the teasing gone from her eyes, no longer smiling. ‘Why should I want to see him?’
‘Ryan—’
‘I sent him a note thanking him for my flowers,’ she dismissed.
‘Forgive me,’ he had said. And she knew she never would. The man she loved had had compassion and love, and
the hard ruthless side of Grant she could never accept. The fact that Ragtag was still alive and well she put down to Grant’s guilt, knew that if they stayed here it would only be a matter of time before he once again revealed that part of his nature which she could never love, the part that destroyed.
‘Ryan,’ Diana spoke slowly, ‘I haven’t mentioned this earlier because Mark didn’t think I should, but he says there’s something between you and Grant—’
‘He’s wrong,’ Ryan said stiffly, now knowing the reason no one had mentioned Grant to her. They all knew that she had loved him.
‘There was something,’ Diana insisted firmly. ‘This is me, love,’ she added gently. ‘And I know you, maybe better than anyone else. You’ve changed since you’ve been here. You used to be carefree and outgoing, now it takes all our efforts to get you to talk. And Grant is so grim! Nice, but grim. And Mark says he isn’t usually as bad as that.’
‘A couple of weeks ago he thought he was an ogre.’ Ryan’s mouth twisted.
‘He didn’t, not really. He’s always admired Grant, I think he just resents his domination sometimes.’ She grimaced. ‘Wait until we’re married, I’ll show him what domination is!’
The two girls were still laughing when Mark arrived, although Ryan’s humour faded as soon as the other couple left for their pub lunch, she having refused to join them. She still tired easily on her crutches, besides which, she wasn’t very good company at the moment. As Diana said, she spoke little nowadays. She had nothing to say, and only wanted to get away from Grant and back to the safe world she had in London.
She had drifted off to sleep out in the garden, her plastered foot resting on a stool, when a rather persistent fly kept landing on her nose. She brushed it away several times, then finally sat up, her eyes opening wide as she saw the man who sat next to her.
‘Hi,’ Grant greeted her huskily, the long piece of grass he had been tickling her nose with still in his hand.
She was instantly alert, sitting ramrod-straight in her chair. Grant looked leaner than she remembered, a little strained about the eyes, and for a few brief seconds she wondered if he were missing the closeness they had achieved as much as she was. Then she dismissed the idea. If Grant looked strained it was because of worry about the estate; it certainly had nothing to do with her.
‘I received your letter,’ he told her softly.
‘Yes.’ She stared woodenly ahead of her, knowing his gaze never left her.
‘We have to talk—’
‘We don’t have to do anything, Grant!’ Her eyes flashed. ‘I would have thought I made it perfectly obvious the last few days that I have nothing to say to you, either now or in the future.’
‘Is that why you signed your note so formally, Ryan Shelton?’ he rasped.
She nodded. ‘And why it was addressed to Mr Montgomery.’
‘What happened, Ryan?’ He grasped her hand. ‘Somewhere between Thursday night—that beautiful night,’ his voice was husky with emotion, ‘and Friday morning, you’d grown to hate me.’
‘Not hate, Grant.’ She withdrew her hand with an effort. ‘I saw the situation for what it was—’
‘I wish to blazes I did!’ he said harshly. ‘Ryan, that time together was beautiful, why are you throwing it away?’ His eyes were narrowed to puzzled green pools.
How she wished she could get up and walk away, but this damned ankle stopped even that dignity. Instead she had to sit here and suffer through this embarrassment, while Grant attempted to probe her deepest emotions. But he wouldn’t know of her love, she would do anything, say anything to prevent that.
She looked at him with steady blue eyes. ‘I’m not throwing anything away, there was nothing to throw away.’
‘I made love to you,’ he ground out. ‘You made love to me! I know you more intimately than any other man!’
She couldn’t prevent the hot colour flooding her cheeks. ‘Does that mean we have to have a postmortem about it?’ she snapped.
Grant had no restrictions. He got up to pace the garden, his hands thrust into his trousers pockets. ‘It isn’t a post-mortem, Ryan,’ he looked at her with hurt eyes. ‘Heaven knows I don’t want to embarrass you—’
‘Then don’t!’ Ryan looked down at her hands. Grant might know her more intimately than any other man, but she knew him too, knew every hard, muscled plane of his body, had touched the silkiness of his skin, knew the caresses he liked, knew how to touch him in a way that drove his desire into a frenzy. How could she not be embarrassed when he insisted on talking about it so intimately! ‘We made love once. It was a mistake.’
‘I don’t believe that—’
‘I was grateful—the situation got out of hand,’ she said heatedly.
‘Grateful?’ he repeated softly, dangerously so. ‘For what?’
‘For bringing Ragtag back to me—’
‘You don’t make love with a man for a reason like that!’
‘I did!’ she almost shouted at him.
‘You were a virgin—’
‘No!’ She paled.
‘You were, damn you!’ Grant glared down at her fiercely. ‘I have enough experience to know something like that.’
‘You’re wrong,’ she told him coldly. ‘And I’m sure Mark could verify that—if you were ungentlemanly enough to ask him.’
Their gazes locked and held, Grant’s anger a tangible thing. At last he sighed. ‘I didn’t come here today to upset you—’
‘Why did you come?’ Her agitation was obvious now. ‘Did you hope Mark would be here so that you could tell him I’d slept with you?’
‘You know that isn’t true!’ There was a white ring of tension about his mouth. ‘What happened between us is—private. Unless you’ve told him?’ His eyes narrowed.
‘I’m not that proud of it!’ Ryan’s mouth twisted.
‘And you think I am?’ he groaned. ‘You were going to marry my brother—’
‘Were?’ she echoed sharply, sensing a way of alienating Grant for ever. ‘What makes you think I’m still not?’
He seemed to go even paler, if that were possible. ‘You still mean to marry Mark? Even after—’
‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’ she scorned.
‘You want to become my sister-in-law?’
‘It hasn’t gone as far as that yet, but I do want you to realise that what happened the other night between us didn’t change my feelings for Mark. I’m sorry if you thought there was more to it than there actually was, but this is the permissive society, Grant. You no longer have to be in love with someone to sleep with them. You enjoyed it, didn’t you?’
‘You know I did,’ he muttered.
‘And so did I. Now let’s forget about it,’ she dismissed.
‘I can’t,’ he shook his head.
‘So you intend telling Mark?’
‘No,’ he said tautly, ‘of course not. I just—I can’t believe that will never happen again,’ he groaned, his eyes tortured.
Ryan’s shrug was deliberately nonchalant. ‘If you feel that strongly about it I don’t see why it shouldn’t. When I’m Mark’s wife we’re sure to see a lot of each other. I’m sure Mark won’t be around all the time,’ she added provocatively.
Grant swallowed hard, a disbelieving look of disgust on his face. ‘You think—’ he took a steadying breath. ‘You think I could have an affair with my brother’s wife?’
‘Why not?’ she looked at him innocently. ‘You made love to your brother’s girl-friend.’
‘That was different—’
‘Was it?’ she scorned. ‘Why?’
‘We’re both free, not legally committed to anyone. If—When you marry Mark you’ll become a member of my family, forbidden to my bed.’
Ryan shrugged. ‘It will be your loss. I’m sure Mark won’t be possessive—neither of us are. He’s gone out to lunch with Diana today, and I don’t mind at all.’
‘Diana is the same girl I warned you about when you first arrived here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your own flatmate?’
‘Why not?’ She could see he was hating this, knew that this attitude was alienating him completely, that he was slowly coming to hate her.
That was better than knowing he still wanted her! One thing seeing him again today had done, and that was show her that his callousness about Ragtag might have hurt her, but that her love for him was still very much alive. It had no right to be, and she hated herself for her weakness, but she knew that if Grant still wanted her, that if he made love to her, she would respond as lovingly as she had before.
He shook his head. ‘This doesn’t sound like you, Ryan—’
‘And just what do you really know about me?’ she interrupted sharply. ‘I was someone you desired, someone you wanted. Well, now you’ve had me, so where do you want to go from here? I offered to continue sleeping with you, but you said no, so what do you want?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You aren’t making sense, Ryan,’ he frowned. ‘If you wanted to continue the affair why did you refuse to see me at the hospital?’
Drat, she had forgotten that! ‘Even we liberated girls can have a guilty conscience,’ she invented lightly. ‘But seeing Mark again has shown me I have no need to feel that way. Maybe I should write you another note, this time addressed to “my darling Grant”. Would you like that?’ she teased flirtatiously.
‘No, I wouldn’t,’ he snapped harshly, shaking his head. ‘I’ve been wrong about you—I’m sorry I troubled you.’ He turned on his heel and walked away, the sound of the Jaguar leaving a couple of seconds later.
Ryan lay back in her chair with her eyes closed. What a performance! Laurence Olivier would have been proud of her.
But she wasn’t proud of herself! She had deliberately made herself out to be one of the modern girls she most despised, the sort that took what love and affection they could from sharing a man’s bed, only to find themselves immediately discarded.
And Grant had discarded her now, she knew that. He didn’t like the girl she had pretended to be, just as she hadn’t. Why didn’t she just tell him that she couldn’t bear the pain of loving a man without a heart, a man who had become hardened to death and killing? Because she still couldn’t quite admit to herself that Grant was that man!
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