by Lucy Gordon
He stared. ‘Do I talk like him very often?’
‘Sometimes. He regarded me as bought and paid for, and he made it plain.’
‘And you think that’s how I see you?’
‘No, I—’
‘Can’t you understand that I still dread the thought of waking up to find you not there? I try to tell myself to be sensible but in that great echoing vacuum there’s no sense, only horror. Every time you leave the room there’s a voice in my head that says you won’t come back. You fill my dreams but you also fill my nightmares.’
‘Then perhaps you should let me go, and never think of me again.’
‘And know that you’ll never think of me again? That’s the biggest nightmare of all. Sometimes I wish I had the strength to let you go, because then I might find peace. Not happiness, but peace. But I can’t do it.’
She nodded. ‘I know,’ she said huskily. ‘Me too.’
Now, she thought hopefully, they could talk and rediscover each other in yet another way. The road lay open before them.
But he seemed reluctant to take it, turning back to the computer screen.
Never mind, she thought. The chance would come again.
Next day Marcel announced that they needed to spend a few days in London.
‘My purchase of the hotel isn’t finalised yet and I’m getting impatient, so let’s see if we can put some rockets under people. Vera, we’ll need train tickets.’
‘Train tickets?’ his secretary echoed.
‘That’s what I said,’ he called over his shoulder as he left the room.
‘First time I’ve ever known him not take a plane,’ Vera mused. ‘I wonder why.’
Cassie thought she knew why and her heart was warmed by his concern for her, although when she tried to thank him he loftily brushed the matter aside as ‘Pure convenience.’
‘Of course,’ she said, and kissed him.
This was the side of him she had loved, and for which she could feel the love creeping back. That might be dangerous while she was still unsure who this new man was, and how much of his old self still existed. But right now she was happy to take the risk.
Rather than leave it to Vera, she volunteered to book their hotel rooms.
‘At the Crown Hotel,’ she announced.
‘Not The Crown yet,’ Marcel pointed out. ‘Until I sign the final papers it’s still The Alton.’
‘To them it’s The Alton, to us it’s The Crown,’ she declared triumphantly. ‘Everything’s going to go right, and nothing will go wrong.’
‘Yes,’ he said with a smile that touched her heart. ‘Nothing will go wrong. We won’t let it.’
But he frowned when he saw the bookings she’d made.
‘Separate rooms? Surely we could be together?’
‘You’re going to be the big boss. We need to preserve your dignity,’ she said.
‘If that means Mrs Henshaw in steel spectacles, forget it. I don’t like that woman.’
‘Then why did you hire her?’
‘Because she didn’t fool me. I want the real woman, the one she hides inside.’
‘Unfortunately,’ she murmured, ‘it’s Mrs Henshaw who’s good with figures.’
He seemed struck by this. ‘Ah, yes! Problem!’
Then someone came into the room and it could be passed off as a joke. But it lingered in her mind as a warning that troubles might lie ahead.
When they arrived in London Mrs Henshaw was at her most efficient, ironing out last minute problems, talking with bank managers and accountants. Marcel dominated the meetings, but whenever she spoke he listened intently, even admiringly. But afterwards he observed, to nobody in particular, ‘I shall be glad when this is all over.’
There was an infuriating delay in the finance, owing to the bank demanding extra guarantees.
‘Is this going to make it impossible?’ she asked, seeing him gloomy.
‘No, I can manage it, one way or another. I just don’t want to have to ask my father’s help. His fingers are in too many pies already.’ He gave a slight shudder. ‘Now come on, let’s have some dinner.’
‘Yes, let’s see if I can cheer you up.’
‘You can’t,’ he said, eyeing her ‘Mrs Henshaw’ appearance. ‘But she could.’
‘Mmm, I’ll see if she’s free tonight.’
‘She’d better be.’
She wore her hair long, tumbling over her shoulders, and when they met for dinner in the restaurant he nodded approval.
‘Will I pass?’ she teased.
‘You will, but we can’t go on like this. It’s like living with Jekyll and Hyde.’
‘Really? So am I Dr Jekyll, middle-aged, scientific, brainy and kind? Or am I Mr Hyde, young and cruel?’
He sipped his wine for a moment before saying, ‘Joking apart, it’s more subtle than that. With Jekyll and Hyde you could always tell from the appearance. But with you I can’t always tell. Whichever one you look like, the other one is always likely to pop out for a few moments, then dash back.’
‘Yes, we exist side by side,’ she agreed. ‘Which may be confusing.’
‘May be?’
‘But why worry if ditzy Cassie sometimes has a great brain? There was a time when you knew that.’
‘I know, I know. In those days—the great brain was just a part of you. I never dreamed it would take over your whole life in the form of Mrs Henshaw!’
‘I know. But Mrs Henshaw was always there, lurking.’
‘Yes, lurking, but now she’s pounced. She’s a bit alarming.’
‘Maybe she wouldn’t be if you knew her better,’ she said, smiling.
This was the tone of the rest of the evening, light, easy, full of merriment and goodwill. She was happy, although still disturbed by a feeling that was half hope, half caution.
On the one hand there was the thoughtfulness that had made Marcel take the train for her sake. On the other hand was his reluctance to accept Mrs Henshaw as part of who she was. But that would sort itself out soon, she reassured herself.
In the meantime she was feeling exhausted. She’d worked through most of last night and all today, determined to stay on top of her duties. Now she would have given much to be able to sleep.
Hoping to liven herself up a little she took an extra glass of wine, and knew fairly soon that she’d made a mistake. If anything, she was woozier than before.
‘I think I’ll have an early night,’ she said, and he rose at once, giving her his arm.
He followed her into her room and turned her towards him, looking down at her face with a questioning look. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes, just tired.’
‘I’ll say goodnight then.’ He lifted her chin and laid his lips gently against hers.
Her head swam. The last time they had kissed there had been an edge of hostility, even violence, on her side as well as his. But now his touch was gentle, reminding her of happier times, and she responded with pleasure, although its edge was blunted by drowsiness.
‘Cassie,’ he murmured, ‘Cassie…don’t shut me out…please…’
‘I don’t…mean to…’
‘Kiss me—I’ve waited for this so long and now…kiss me…’
She could feel the softness of the bed beneath her, his fingers opening her dress. Deep inside she sensed her own response, but waves of sleep washed over her brain.
Now, she thought, he would take what he pleased, knowing she was beyond resistance. She hadn’t wanted it this way. Their next love-making should have been a union of hearts as well as bodies—not like this.
‘Cassie—Cassie—Cassie?’
She opened her eyes, whispering, ‘Marcel.’
His face was full of sudden suspicion. ‘Are you entirely sober?’
‘I…don’t think so. I shouldn’t have…oh. dear.’
His face tensed. He drew back and looked down at where her breasts were partially exposed, showing all the lushness that he’d always enjoyed. For a brief moment he let
his fingertips linger on the swell, relishing the silky skin. His head drooped and she waited for the feel of his lips. But then he stiffened as though a bolt of lightning had gone through him. Next moment he’d practically hurled himself off the bed.
‘Marcel—’ she whispered.
He was breathing hard. ‘Goodnight.’
He yanked at the duvet and threw it over her so that he could no longer see the glorious temptation, and moved towards the door.
‘You’re going?’ she asked vaguely.
‘Of course I’m going,’ he answered. ‘You really think I’m going to—when you don’t really know what you’re doing? A fine opinion you have of me. Goodnight.’
‘Marcel—’
The door slammed. There followed the noise of his footsteps running down the corridor, but she never heard them. She was already asleep.
CHAPTER TEN
NEXT morning he greeted her briskly. ‘Just one more day and then we can be gone. There’s some papers over there that need—’ He couldn’t meet her eyes.
It was almost funny, she thought. Last night he’d behaved like a perfect gentleman, refusing to take advantage of her vulnerability. It was practically worth a medal for chivalry. And he was secretly ashamed of it.
Which was a pity, because she couldn’t tell him how proud she was of his generosity.
That evening they were invited to a business dinner, where networking would be a high priority.
‘And I promise not to touch anything stronger than orange juice,’ she said.
‘And then—?’
‘And then I’ll be fully awake and alert, and I’ll know exactly what I’m doing.’
She gave him a quick kiss and vanished, leaving him staring at her door in frustration, admiration and bemusement.
In her preparations, Cassie and Mrs Henshaw came together, the dress with a mysterious combination of severity and temptation, the hair drawn lightly back, but not scraped. She was a huge success. It was Marcel who had a lacklustre evening, unable to take his eyes off her and letting business opportunities slip by.
Later, as they approached his suite, she pulled her hair free, shaking it so that it flowed over her shoulders and forward down her breasts.
‘You should be careful,’ he murmured. ‘A conceited man might interpret that as a hint.’
‘Better a conceited man than a slow-witted one,’ she said, slipping her arms around his neck. ‘Just when will you get the message?’
‘Right now,’ he said, clasping her with one hand and pushing the door open with the other.
Twice since their meeting they had shared passion. The first time had been in anger, the second time the feeling had been gentler, but still tense.
But now they rediscovered many things they had both thought lost for ever. His touch brought her only delight, the look in his eyes raised her to the heights. He loved her slowly, prolonging every moment so that she could feel his tenderness.
And something else, perhaps. Love? Did she dare to hope?
When he finally abandoned control and yielded to her completely she held him close, hoping and praying for the miracle.
At last he whispered, ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘Very much all right.’
In the next few hours they loved, slept, and loved again. Now she was filled with deep joy, sensing the approaching moment when all would be made well.
Next day they returned to Paris and plunged back into work, both content to do so, knowing that better times were coming.
Soon, she promised herself, she would say the words that would make everything different between them. But first she would enjoy the pleasure that only he could give her. There would be plenty of time for talk.
He didn’t even ask if he could come to her room. Now he knew he didn’t need to ask. Nestled down in bed, they found themselves and each other again and again, before sleeping in utter contentment.
She awoke to find him watching her, and made a decision.
‘Marcel—’
‘Yes, Cassie?’
She took a deep breath. All hesitation gone. What better time could there ever be?
But before she could speak his cellphone shrilled.
He swore and grappled for it in his clothes. Cassie closed her eyes and groaned.
‘Yes?’ he answered. Then his face changed and he grew alert. ‘Freya! What’s the matter? You sound upset—all right, calm down. How can I help? What?—What’s got into the old man now?—I don’t believe it, even of him.’
At last he hung up and flung her a despairing glance.
‘My father’s up to his tricks again. He’s on his way here. I think he’s beginning to realise that he’s not going to marry her off to Darius so he’s turning his fire on me.’
Groaning, she covered her eyes with her hands. Of all the times for this to happen! Now she couldn’t say what she’d meant to. For the moment the spell was broken.
‘I need your help,’ Marcel continued. ‘So does Freya. If there’s one thing she doesn’t want it’s to be stuck with me.’
Cassie forced herself to concentrate. ‘Well, Freya was very kind to me, so I’ll do all I can to save her from that terrible fate. Just tell me what to do.’
‘When we take them to dinner we must act like a couple, just until he gets the message.’
‘When are they going to arrive here?’
‘Soon. Let’s hurry.’
He was out of bed, throwing on his clothes. She sighed and followed suit. The time would come, she promised herself. But she must be patient for a while.
Amos and Freya arrived two hours later. When Marcel had shown them to their rooms Amos said, ‘I thought you’d still be in London working on that new place. But I dare say the admirable Mrs Henshaw is taking care of everything.’
‘Admirable certainly,’ Marcel agreed. ‘In fact I’ve brought her here to study La Couronne so that she’ll have a more precise idea of my wishes. She’s looking forward to meeting you again when we all have dinner tonight.’
Amos made a displeased face. ‘No need to invite her to dinner. I’m not in the mood for business.’
‘But I’m in the mood to meet Mrs Henshaw again,’ Freya said quickly. ‘I liked her so much when we met in England.’
‘She’s eager to see you too,’ Marcel assured her. ‘Why don’t you go up to the office and talk to her?’
The meeting between the two women was friendly and eager. Cassie had pleasant memories of Freya’s kindly attention when she’d banged her head, but she’d been too confused to notice much about her. Now she saw an attractive young woman in her late twenties, slim and vigorous, with light brown hair that was almost auburn, green eyes and a cheeky smile. She ordered tea for them both and they settled down comfortably.
‘I’m so glad you took the job with Marcel,’ Freya said. ‘He was so afraid that you wouldn’t.’
‘He thought I’d refuse it?’
‘I don’t know, but he seemed very worried about it. He must have heard a lot about your business skills.’
‘Yes, I guess it must have been that,’ Cassie murmured.
‘He says you’re having dinner with us. I’m so glad.’
Her fervent tone prompted Cassie to say cautiously, ‘I gather Mr Falcon is trying to throw the two of you together.’
‘Sort of. I don’t think he’s quite given up hope of Darius, but—’
‘But he’s keeping all his options open,’ Cassie supplied. ‘Just what you’d expect an entrepreneur to do.’
‘Yes. Do you know what they’re talking about now, why Amos originally came here? Bringing me was just an afterthought. He’s helping Marcel raise extra funds for the London hotel. Somebody owes him money and there’s a loophole in the contract by which Amos can get repaid earlier. So he’s twisting the poor fellow’s arm.’
‘Not a nice man,’ Cassie agreed.
‘He’s always thought Darius was that way inclined too. And Marcel is nex
t in the money-making stakes. Honestly, who’d want to marry a man like that?’
‘Nobody in their right mind,’ Cassie agreed.
The phone rang. It was Marcel, wanting Vera, but the secretary had just left.
‘I need some papers. Can you bring them to me? You’ll find them—’
‘No problem,’ she said when he’d explained. ‘I’ll be right down with them.’
Approaching Amos’s room, she could hear raised voices. One of them was Amos, but the loudest belonged to a young man who seemed almost hysterical.
‘But it isn’t fair. Can’t you see that?’
‘It’s in the contract.’ That was Amos.
‘But you said it was just a fallback, and you’d never make use of it—’
‘I said I probably wouldn’t make use of it. It wasn’t a guarantee.’
‘You made it sound like one—as long as I kept up the repayments—’
‘Which have sometimes been late.’
‘They’re up-to-date at this moment. Surely that’s what counts?’
‘I say what counts.’ Amos’s voice was as harsh as sandpaper, and Cassie stepped back from the door in revulsion.
The next moment she was glad of it for the door was yanked open by a man who came flying out. He turned to scream back, ‘Be damned to you! I hope you rot in hell!’
Then he dashed off, forcing her to flatten herself against the wall. She stayed there, breathing out, trying to calm down. But before she was ready to enter the room she heard Marcel’s voice.
‘There was no need to go quite so far.’
‘Don’t give me that. I know just how far to go. I didn’t get where I am by weakening. Nor should you.’
‘I don’t. I can be tough when I have to, but it’s a new age. Subtlety can be better.’
‘Only one thing matters,’ came Amos’s rasping voice. ‘Does he have the cash or doesn’t he?’
‘According to him he doesn’t. It might not be wise to press him too far.’
‘Give me patience! Will nothing cure you of the habit of believing what people say?’
‘It can actually be useful sometimes.’
‘Not this time. Leave that man for me to deal with.’
Cassie backed away, wishing she could run far away from this horrible conversation that exhibited all the worst of Amos Falcon. She was glad that Marcel had had the decency to argue against him, although she wished he’d done so more strongly.