A Race for Love

by Jillian Dagg

  A menial job, waitress perhaps? Houseworker for strangers?

  She had no visible means of support and no skills. She could get them of course. But it would take time. And she had to admit to herself that Richard was the first man who had ever attracted her. She thought of his sapphire eyes appraising her, his head of burnished gold. Then she remembered his firm mouth, faintly twisted by pain, that she had almost hoped would brush hers the evening of their encounter in the hall.

  If she married Richard, life would certainly not be dull! She shivered with anticipation. Perhaps he did find her attractive after all. But would he ever grow to love her? And if he did, would she respond? Well, there was no point in thinking about that now, she told herself sternly. It would just muddy the waters. It was better to concentrate on practical matters, such as the satisfaction that she would derive from doing honest work and being genuinely needed. She would be caring for someone and would have a real home for the first time in her life. She might do well to remember that.

  At three o'clock when she went down into the front hallway, Louise told her that Richard was already outside in the car. She ran down the steps. He reached over and opened the door for her and she slipped in beside him. She fastened the seat belt.

  "Am I late?" she asked breathlessly.

  "No," he said, "I just thought I'd get down here first."

  "It embarrasses you, doesn't it'?" she said, meaning his injury.

  "It frustrates me," he corrected. He started the car. The engine roared as they drove off up the lane. Tanya sat back in the low seat.

  "You didn't want to go to the funeral, did you?" she said.

  He shook his head, "No, even though I got here on time."

  "Did you really go to the doctor?"

  "Yes, they won't let me out on my own for too long. But he told me I should be cutting down my visits very soon now."

  "I'm glad," she said, really meaning it."Is this your own car?"

  He smiled, "Yes. It's my one big extravagance. I take it everywhere, regardless of cost."

  This awed her. "On the plane?"

  "I have a company that transports it. I loathe driving rented vehicles."

  She touched the dash. She'd only ever driven small older cars, but didn't own a car herself. "Maybe you could teach me to drive it."

  "Are you agreeing to come home with me then?" He glanced sideways at her.

  "I haven't decided yet. You did say the morning."

  "Of course." He turned back to concentrate on his driving.

  "Any particular place you'd like to go?" He smoothly took the car down a narrow winding road lined with trees.

  "No," she told him. "Anywhere." She enjoyed being with him. No man had ever made her feel that. Of the few she'd been out with, she'd always wanted to get it over with fast, like a disagreeable visit to the dentist. She looked across at his hands on the wheel of the car and asked the first question that came into her head.

  "Will you be able to race again?"

  She saw his knuckles tense up and whiten.

  "Yes."

  "That's good."

  He relaxed slightly, "I can drive okay, it's just that I get tension headaches under extreme concentration. It'll take time."

  "I'm sorry."

  "You shouldn't be," he said, "it's a risk I take each time I get behind the wheel. That this was a more serious crash than any before, was just my bad luck."

  "But you miss racing?"

  "Of course. Wouldn't you, if all you had to do was wake up each morning wondering if you could make it through the next eight hours without any pain?"

  Tanya swallowed hard and stared out of the window at a bed of daffodils waving beneath the trees. She'd almost decided what she was going to do.

  "If I came with you, would it help?" she asked huskily.

  "Yes," he said with no hesitation.

  "You don't know me," she said looking at him again. His golden hair was falling across his face, almost covering his right eye.

  "My father's solicitor told me a few things," he said. "He filled me in on your life to date."

  "Which is rather a mess," she said looking down at her hands.

  "I think you've come through remarkably well."

  She flushed at the compliment.

  "You've had a rough time being chucked from one relative to another, which is rather typical of my family, I'm afraid."

  It wasn't their fault. Your parents were good to me."

  "Maybe they felt guilty," he said bitterly.

  "Surely, they made some attempt to contact you?" she said.

  "I wrote to them, but my father never answered the letters. You'd have thought I'd committed a deadly crime by not being pushed into a life of their choosing."

  "I suppose you hurt him. The business was his whole life and the thought of his son not wanting to be in it was beyond his comprehension."

  "Exactly."

  "Why did you choose racing?" she asked.

  He shrugged, "I always liked cars. I followed car racing ever since I was a kid and the racing drivers were my heroes."

  She smiled, "That's like someone dreaming of being a film star?"

  "I suppose so. I used to hang around the tracks doing amateur stuff until I met a guy who'd been racing across the States and Europe for years. It escalated from there."

  "Racing scares me," she told him.

  "It scares me too, but I couldn't do anything else."

  "I couldn't imagine you doing anything else. You don't look like an accountant or a lawyer."

  He laughed, "Over the last year I've sometimes wished I were." Then, sighing, he changed the subject abruptly. "Know any place where we can stop for tea?"

  They found a café that did afternoon teas and went inside.

  Richard had to bend low for the tiny door and a low beam.

  "I think the people back then must have been smaller," he told her as he straightened painfully, "certainly not cripples like me."

  "You're not a cripple," she said, taking a seat opposite him at a little table. He sat down and stretched his left leg out in front of him.

  "Why don't you order a typical English tea?" he suggested.

  "It's one of the few things I've missed."

  She picked up the menu. "We'll have cucumber sandwiches and a big plate of cakes," she said, "and of course a pot of tea."

  "Sounds delightful," he said smiling.

  Tanya ordered from the waitress because Richard insisted, and then sat back in her chair. She hadn't been out to tea since a boy had taken her one autumn day last year when she'd been at Oxford, she told Richard.

  "Do you have many boyfriends?" he asked.

  "No. I've never found anyone I've wanted."

  "Do they ever want you?" he sounded amused.

  "I suppose so," she shrugged.

  "Don't you know?" His eyes sparkled mischievously.

  "No," she told him, coloring slightly.

  "You're a strange girl."

  "Why? Just because I don't let every Tom, Dick and Harry maul me? Why should I if I don't care for them?"

  "I agree," he nodded.

  "And what about you? Have you lots of girls?"

  "I've had lots of girls," he said shortly.

  "Anyone special?" she asked.

  "Not anymore. A man loses his appeal when he's disabled."

  "But you're not." She wanted to wipe that bitter expression from his face. "It's only temporary."

  "Maybe," He said.

  "I thought you said you could race again," she persisted.

  He leaned his elbows on the table.

  "I think that's called hope. You know all about that, Tanya." His gray glance held hers.

  When they left the café, the sun was shining. Richard's hair glinted in the sun. Like the daffodils, Tanya thought.

  "I feel much better," he said. "You've helped me immensely. I was dreading coming home and seeing Cheryle again, and then there was that monstrous house."

  "I don't like
it either," Tanya told him. "It gives me the creeps."

  "Then are you glad to have to leave it?" he said.

  "In a way, although I was at college most of the time."

  "Do you mind not going back to college?" he asked.

  She shrugged, "Not really. It was a nice experience though."

  "I'm sorry," he said.

  "It's not your fault," she told him and grasped his hand impulsively."You've done all you could."

  He still held her hand, his fingers large and warm surrounding hers. "I could do more if you came home with me."

  "You said, tomorrow," she reminded him.

  "I know I did." He released her hand, his expression surprisingly bleak.

  They continued toward the car. Tanya was thinking about her alternatives. Stuck in London in a lonely flat. No job, no marketable skills. The vague possibility that she might meet a man and fall in love. She could not even imagine such a man, especially with the virile presence of Richard beside her. It was more than anything else that she had ever had in her life. She reached over and touched his leather-clad arm.

  "I think I'll come home with you," she said softly.

  "Are you quite sure?" His eyes probed hers.

  She nodded.

  "Have you considered it carefully? Thought about what you might be giving up?"

  "There's nothing to give up," she said flatly.

  His fingers reached up and stroked her hair, then moved around to cup her face. He leaned and kissed her softly on the lips. "I won't let you down. I promise you."

  Chapter Three

  They drove back to the house in silence. What had she done, Tanya wondered. She'd just told this man that she would marry him. To go with him to a strange country. To live with him. He might have to be her only companion, her only friend for years. He was older, with a successful career. She was young, still a little unsure of her way in the world. What could they possibly have in common?

  She touched her fingers to her lips where his soft kiss still lingered. What would it be like to be held in his arms? To wind her own arms around his neck, to touch the golden hair, the firm tanned flesh. A lump of panic formed in her throat. What had she been thinking of when she'd agreed to marry him?

  His profile was unsmiling, proud. Was it pity she felt for him, or some strange animal attraction? There was certainly something, but she didn't know what. She was too inexperienced to even begin to analyze her reactions.

  "Regretting your decision already?" Richard asked, a wry twist to his handsome mouth.

  "No," she reassured him. "I'll marry you."

  Louise and Harry were pleased to hear about the wedding.

  When Cheryle came down from London for an evening visit, she also thought it was a good idea.

  "There's a bit of an age difference," she told them, "but I suppose you can work it out. It's not as though either of you have anything to lose. Actually, I'll feel better knowing that Richard is being looked after."

  Richard's glance was skeptical, but held a cool amusement.

  "Cheryle, I didn't know you cared.... "he said.

  As the girl shrugged her elegantly thin shoulders, Tanya wondered if she'd been mistaken about Richard's sister.

  Maybe some of the icy coolness was a controlled facade. She remembered how Donald Wicklow had sometimes turned himself off at will. Then in the days that followed, she discovered that Richard had a similar trait. He was cool, courteous and completely in control during their time together, even on the rare occasions when she caught his expression slip and cloud with pain as he moved awkwardly or rose too quickly. A mask would soon slide across his gray eyes.

  Not that Tanya had time to dwell on her problems. There was a lot to do. Even Cheryle seemed pleased about the wedding. She made arrangements to have the ceremony at a registry office, and invited all her friends from around Surrey and in London. She even arranged a small luncheon reception.

  "Remember we have to catch an afternoon flight," Richard said, but let her have her way. "We'll have to grin and bear it," he told Tanya with a wink. "Are you sure you haven't got any friends you'd like to invite?"

  "No," she told him. "What about you?"

  "No," he said. "I don't know anyone here anymore."

  Richard and Tanya made a trip up to London to Canada House to obtain her immigration. Although Richard had already contacted them, Tanya was petrified that they wouldn't accept her, but Richard seemed to know the ropes and bypassed a lot of the red tape.

  After a long morning of grueling interviews they shared lunch at a London restaurant. Tanya glanced around at the deep faded velvet decor and sniffed the mustiness, mingled with the delicious aroma of roast beef. She had a sudden attack of nostalgia for her English girlhood.

  "You're not going to miss the old place, are you?" Richard asked as if he'd read her mind.

  She glanced up with a start. "Probably, sometimes," she told him. "Did you ever?"

  "Of course, but there will be trips back. I'm not poor."

  "I know." She played with her meal, not really hungry.

  Richard was also eating sparingly, and she wondered how he was feeling. Surely all this hurrying about and excitement couldn't be good for him.

  When they arrived home he went straight to his room, and when he didn't arrive down to breakfast the next morning, Tanya was worried. She asked Louise about him when she met the woman carrying a tray from his room.

  "Look, he didn't eat a thing," Louise complained, indicating the untouched tray. "He's not well, that boy. You're going to have your hands full, I can tell you. And he's not easy either.

  A difficult patient that's what he is."

  Tanya found her lips twitching despite her anxiety over Richard. "What did he do?" she asked.

  "Just doesn't want anyone bothering him, he said. 'I'll sweat it out,' those were his words." Louise looked a little put out.

  "He's proud, Louise." Tanya soothed the woman. "He doesn't like to think that he's a bother or putting upon anyone."

  "Well, I just hope you understand him." Louise went off still in a slight huff.

  Tanya went to Richard's room and silently opened the door. It was a small room with a large single bed, and Tanya knew that it had been Richard's room when he was a young boy. There were some magazines, a newspaper and a paperback novel strewn around the floor. His clothes were thrown over a straight-backed chair. And Richard? He was just a lump beneath the heavy quilt and numerous blankets that one needed to keep warm in the vast house. He was obviously sleeping soundly. Tanya closed the door. She didn't want to wake him up. She wouldn't know what to say to him if she did, and she certainly didn't want to get any of the gruff treatment that Louise felt she had received.

  At lunch, Cheryle, who was staying at the house until the wedding, suggested that it would be a good opportunity to go out and buy Tanya a wedding dress and trousseau.

  Richard had given her a generous check and although she hadn't really wanted to take it, there was no choice if she was going to be an acceptable bride, especially as Cheryle had invited so many guests.

  Cheryle saw her sigh. "You have to look your best. I can help you choose something pretty. Richard might only be my brother, but I can see he has charms. You'll have to make an effort to hang on to him."

  Tanya didn't like Cheryle's tone, but in her heart of hearts she agreed with her. She sat silently while Cheryle gave her firm orders as to how she should dress. Tanya couldn't dispute her. Cheryle always looked beautifully turned out, even when she was only wearing jeans. Beside her, Tanya felt awkward and dowdy.

  They went out in Cheryle's sports car. Tanya, who thought they'd be going to the local town, was surprised when they kept driving toward London, ending up on Kings Road.

  "I don't really think the clothes here are my style," Tanya protested, eyeing some of the wilder outfits of the people who strolled along the street.

  "Oh, there's everything here," Cheryle said. "You can buy a dress for three hundred pounds that will
last you for years, or a dress that's just in style this week. Come on."

  Tanya had never been on such a shopping spree. She usually shopped carefully, buying only good quality, practical clothing, counting her pennies. Now Cheryle insisted on more frivolous purchases: dresses whose color and soft fabrics complimented her hair and skin, tiny scraps of underwear that made her blush to think of Richard's gray eyes seeing her wearing them. There were also night clothes in sheer flimsy materials, slacks, blouses and sweaters. Tanya was feminine enough to be excited and pleased with the purchases.