‘So do you,’ she said, magnanimous now he was leaving. ‘I rather like the hair.’
‘Thank you.’ He gave her the slow, inflammatory smile she’d never quite managed to forget. ‘How very civilised we are!’
‘That was my aim when I wrote to you,’ she pointed out. ‘To go about things in a civilised way, instead of informing you through a solicitor.’
When the phone interrupted them Rose excused herself to pick it up, then breathed in sharply as the caller whispered her name and rang off.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked James, as she crashed the receiver back. He grabbed her by the wrists. ‘Rose, for God’s sake what’s wrong? You’re as white as a sheet!’
She gave him a shaky smile. ‘Nuisance phone call.’
James released her to stab in the recall numbers, but again the number had been withheld. ‘Has this happened before?’ he demanded.
‘Yes. This is the third. But there are the roses, too.’
‘What roses?’
Seized by a sudden need to unburden herself, Rose explained, then gave James a wry little smile. ‘At least I know it’s not you.’
‘Me?’ His eyes narrowed ominously. ‘You actually believed I’d deliberately frighten you like this?’
She shrugged. ‘After a silence of ten years it seems a silly idea now, but I couldn’t help wondering for a moment or two. By coincidence the card was very much like the one you sent me once. But the choice of a rose is pretty obvious for someone who knows my name.’
He eyed her warily. ‘Your new man couldn’t be the culprit?’
‘Certainly not,’ she snapped. ‘Anthony was very annoyed by the card. And the first of the roses. But I haven’t told him about the calls, or the second flower.’
‘I think you’d better. What does the caller say?’
‘Just breathes a bit and whispers my name.’ She shivered. ‘I sat up all night with the lights on when he rang after midnight the other night.’
‘Tell the police,’ James ordered brusquely. ‘It may be just a rose and a phone call at this stage, but stalking can lead to something a hell of a sight more serious.’
‘You think it’s a stalker?’ she said, horrified.
‘It could be.’ James looked at her with open concern. ‘Rose, I don’t like the thought of leaving you alone after this. Isn’t there someone who could come to stay with you tonight?’
‘Of course there is. Or I could go to Minerva if I wanted to. But I don’t.’ Her jaw tightened. ‘I flatly refuse to let this joker affect my life.’
He smiled wryly. ‘You were always a feisty little thing.’
‘Obstinate’s the word,’ she said, pulling a face, then shivered a little. ‘But I admit to being a bit spooked by this.’
James looked grim. ‘So tell the police. In the meantime, I’ll stay for a while. At least until your colour comes back.’
‘Thank you. I could do with some company. Even—’ Rose halted, flushing at the gleam in the grey eyes.
‘Even mine, Rose?’
‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’ve tried not to let this business get to me, but it’s difficult. I thought it was amusing in the beginning, but it isn’t any more. I really loathe the feeling that somebody’s out there, watching me.’
‘If he’s watching you tonight at least he’ll know you’re not alone. And if the phone rings,’ he added with menace, ‘I’ll answer it, and make sure your caller thinks twice about ringing you again.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
OF ALL the things she’d intended to do that evening, drinking coffee with James Sinclair was the last Rose had pictured when she’d shut up shop for the night. Taking time out for repairs to her face and hair, she went back to the sitting room eventually, armed with a tray.
‘The coffee smells good,’ he commented. ‘Is there somewhere I could buy some brandy to go with it?’
‘Yes, but you don’t have to. Minerva’s husband gave me two bottles of cognac for Christmas.’
James looked amused. ‘You’re that fond of it?’
‘No, but Henry is. I ask them round for a meal every so often, so this is his way of saving me expense.’
‘You like him.’
Rose nodded. ‘Very much. Henry was a widower for years, and always the most determined of Minerva’s men-friends. I’m glad she finally gave in and married him. And, far more important, so is she.’
‘It must have been a surprise to her, all those years ago, when you told her you were married,’ he commented.
‘I never did tell her. At least not at the time.’ Rose kept her eyes on the coffee she was pouring. ‘Until last Sunday Minerva knew nothing about it. Henry’s a solicitor, and I asked him to handle the divorce for me.’ She looked up to meet the watchful, narrowed eyes. ‘But before I could talk about divorce, of course, first I had to tell Minerva I was married.’
James whistled. ‘That must have come as a shock after all this time.’
‘It certainly did. Though Minerva always takes everything in her stride. She’s the one person in this world,’ said Rose deliberately, ‘who I can trust to be there for me, no matter what.’
‘Unlike me, you mean,’ said James without expression, and took the coffee cup she handed him. ‘If it’s of any interest to you, Rose, I never told anyone about our marriage, either.’
‘Not even your mother?’
‘No one,’ he repeated curtly. ‘So what happened to break your silence after all this time?’
‘Anthony asked me to marry him.’ Rose shrugged. ‘So I had to explain why that wasn’t possible. I didn’t tell him why I got married,’ she added.
‘Did you give your aunt the reason for our rush?’
‘Yes.’
‘But not Anthony.’
‘No.’
He smiled a little. ‘I’d forgotten how monosyllabic you get at times. Am I allowed to ask why you’re keeping the man in the dark?’
Rose thought for a moment. ‘I see no reason to tell him something which happened in the past, long before I met him.’
‘Have you known him long?’
‘I knew him by sight when I was young. But the present arrangement started a couple of months ago.’
‘Do you love him?’ probed James.
Rose looked away. ‘I’m—fond of him.’
‘That isn’t what I asked.’
‘Would you like more coffee?’
‘In other words I should mind my own business,’ he said wryly. ‘But yes, I would like more coffee.’
Rose refilled their cups, aware that the truthful answer to James’s question was in the negative. Not that her feelings for Anthony Garrett, or any other man she knew, were anything to do with James Sinclair.
James took his coffee from her then sat down, his face sombre. ‘I apologise. I’ve no right to intrude on your private affairs.’
She shrugged it off casually. ‘Let’s have some of Henry’s cognac.’ She gave him a wry look. ‘Have you had dinner, by the way?’
James looked amused. ‘Yes. Have you eaten, Rose?’
‘Rather well, as it happens, a very conventional meat and potatoes kind of meal for once. Not that I bother with that kind of thing often. Normally it’s just a salad, or—’
‘Bacon sandwiches?’
Not for the world would Rose have told him that the very idea of a bacon sandwich had been anathema to her from the day they’d parted.
‘I took a chance when I decided to knock on your door,’ he said, as Rose poured brandy for him. ‘But I was pretty sure that if I’d rung first you’d refuse to see me.’
‘Why should you think that? I contacted you first.’
‘But only by letter, which you signed very formally as Rose Dryden. You refused to speak to me often enough in the past, remember.’ The grey eyes took on a cold, metallic gleam. ‘Our parting was so acrimonious that even after all these years I wondered if you’d slam the door in my face tonight.’
Her chin lifted. ‘I�
��ve grown up a bit since we last met, James.’
‘You have, indeed.’ He gazed at her thoughtfully. ‘You know, Rose, I’ve often thought of how it would be if we met again.’
So had she. ‘But obviously this isn’t the scenario you pictured.’
‘No. I assumed it would be in court, or some lawyer’s office.’
‘I’m surprised you came here in person, then.’
James shrugged. ‘I acted on impulse. I was long overdue for a break, a colleague of mine knows this area well, so after I got your letter I decided on a trip to the Cotswolds.’
Rose raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m surprised. The letter was pure formality. I didn’t expect a reply, let alone the honour of a personal visit.’
James gave her a very unsettling smile. ‘I decided it would be interesting to meet you just once again, Rose, before our lives are officially detached. A whim, I suppose. Only keep that fact to yourself. Professionally I’m not famous for whimsy.’
‘Guarding your street cred again,’ she said without thinking.
‘Like another memorable occasion. No wonder you thought I sent you the card and the rose again,’ he said, with an indulgence which irritated Rose considerably.
‘Only for the briefest of moments,’ she lied, and frowned. ‘I just wish I knew who had.’
‘But if someone’s buying roses locally, surely you can find out?’
Rose explained how the first rose was ordered. ‘But the second one could have been bought anywhere.’
James frowned. ‘This is obviously getting to you, Rose. Have you no idea at all who could be doing this?’
‘I did wonder if it was someone I knew in my time in London,’ confessed Rose after a pause.
‘What were you doing in London?’
Trying hard to forget James Sinclair, thought Rose with secret rancour. ‘The usual things,’ she told him. ‘Earning a living, acquiring a succession of boyfriends. For a very brief time I even shared a flat with one of them—just before Minerva made me the offer I couldn’t refuse. At which point the relationship came to an abrupt end.’
‘Because you opted for the business?’
‘Right. Rob had apparently been expecting me to marry him.’
‘You didn’t want that?’
‘No.’ Rose looked at him steadily. ‘Oddly enough the encounter with you, James, put me off marriage for good.’
His mouth tightened. ‘You’ve changed your mind now, obviously.’
‘Actually, I haven’t.’ Rose shrugged. ‘But Anthony’s very conventional.’
‘I see.’ James swirled the brandy in his glass thoughtfully. ‘Where’s he based?’
‘London,’ she said, after a pause.
‘In that case won’t there be a conflict of interests again?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Something tells me this Anthony of yours doesn’t really know very much about you, Rose. Have you talked this through?’
‘Not yet. He mentioned marriage for the first time only last week.’
‘But you obviously like the idea or you wouldn’t have contacted me about the divorce.’
It had been dawning on Rose all evening that she’d made a very bad mistake in writing to James Sinclair instead of just instructing Henry to do it for her. His unexpected presence, here on her own private territory, was disturbing in the extreme.
‘It merely nudged me into doing something I should have done long ago,’ she said curtly. ‘I’ll make more coffee.’
Alone in her small kitchen, Rose faced the truth. There was no point in pretending she felt only indifference towards James Sinclair. Just having him in the same room smacked of danger. Even at twenty-two James had been a mature adult compared with the other students she’d known. But ten years on from that he was a formidable man who, as far as Rose could tell, still harboured resentment towards her. So before he caused any more damage to her life she needed to send him on his way, complete with an apology for any wrongs he felt she’d dealt him. Then both of them could get on with their lives, free of any emotional clutter left over from the past.
When she rejoined him, James watched in silence as she refilled their coffee cups.
‘Before you leave, James, I’d like to get one thing straight,’ Rose looked at him steadily. ‘I didn’t lie to you. I truly believed I was pregnant.’
‘I know that,’ he said, surprising her.
‘You didn’t believe me back then.’
‘I’ve had a lot of time to think in the intervening years.’
‘You said you haven’t thought of me much.’
He smiled crookedly. ‘Economy with the truth. I have my pride.’
‘So have I.’ Rose looked him in the eye. ‘You hurt me badly, James. But at least I’ve matured enough to realise I hurt you equally as much.’
‘More,’ he contradicted. ‘I was so crazy about you I wouldn’t listen at first when that little reptile told me you set out to trap me. But then you admitted it was true, worse still told me there was no baby, and my world just fell apart. One minute you were the sweetest thing on God’s earth; the next you seemed like the most conniving little witch I’d ever had the bad luck to encounter.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘So you told me at the time. With colourful repetition.’
He winced. ‘I’m not proud of the way I behaved, believe me. But I was so cut to pieces I hurled every insult at you I could think of, and took off to Scotland to cool off while you sat your exams. But you were my wife, Rose. It never occurred to me that you’d vanish into thin air by the time I got back.’
‘I was obeying orders,’ she reminded him. ‘You told me to get lost, so I did. Right out of the country for the entire summer. When I came back Minerva told me you’d rung quite a lot, so I said you were a boyfriend I’d dumped, and if you rang again she was to say I wanted nothing more to do with you.’ Rose’s mouth twisted in self-derision. ‘My own form of hubris, I suppose. Which didn’t do me much good when I went back to college.’
His eyes softened. ‘Was it difficult for you?’
‘Difficult! A few months as the legendary Sinclair’s girlfriend had boosted my street cred a sight too much. For a while I was hounded by men panting to find out what you found so special about me.’
‘And did any of them succeed?’
Rose gave him a scathing look. ‘Certainly not. Eventually even the persistent Miles got the message. My great good fortune was having two friends like Cornelia Longford and Fabia Dennison. They knew nothing about the wedding, of course, but Con, in particular, felt desperately responsible because you dumped me the minute you found out about her famous plan. I had to seem to get over you just to reassure her. So in time I did.’
‘How much time?’ he demanded.
‘At lot more than I would have liked.’
James nodded. ‘Likewise.’
‘But you had your job in the City, and a whole new life. I doubt that you thought of me for long,’ she said scornfully.
‘I did my thinking at night. In bed.’ His eyes met hers. ‘We were very good together, Rose.’
So good that she’d never found anyone to take his place, thought Rose, suppressing a shiver. She’d thought for a while she’d succeeded with Robert Mason. Until marriage had been mentioned.
Rose jumped to her feet. ‘I’m sorry to be rude, James, but it’s getting late and my day starts early.’ She smiled politely. ‘At least it isn’t much of a walk for you to the King’s Head.’
‘I’m not putting up there.’
She frowned. ‘But you said you walked.’
‘I did. The colleague I mentioned owns a weekend place, a cottage down by the river. It’s a fine evening. I was glad of the exercise.’ James smiled as he stood up. ‘I’m there for a few days for some much needed R and R. You look surprised, Rose.’
Dismayed, not surprised. ‘How pleasant,’ she said politely. ‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy it there.’
He took his wallet from his jacket, extracted a business card and scribbled a
number on it. ‘There’s no phone at the cottage, but you can reach me on my cellphone number any time you need to. Let me know if your stalker steps up his attentions.’
‘Thank you,’ said Rose.
They were almost at the door when James stopped suddenly, and held out his hand. ‘Ten years ago, Rose, I said a great many things I would have given a lot to retract afterwards. I can’t take them back, but at least I can tell you how much I’ve regretted them since. I know the apology’s long overdue, but I’m sorry I hurt you so badly.’
With reluctance Rose put her hand in his, wary even now of touching him. ‘Apology accepted. It was all a long time ago. Let’s put it all behind us.’
‘There’s a snag,’ said James, in a tone that quickened her pulse. ‘Now I’ve seen you again it doesn’t feel like a long time ago.’
‘Nevertheless,’ Rose said woodenly, ‘it is. But now we’ve made our apologies at last, and washed away any bitterness.’ Which came out sounding a lot more biblical than intended. But it was impossible to behave, or sound, natural when the mere touch of James Sinclair’s hand on hers was rousing feelings she had never experienced in the most passionate of lovemaking with anyone else.
And James knew it, she realised, as she met the blaze of triumph in his eyes.
‘Rose.’ He smiled slowly, and brushed a lock of hair back from her face. ‘Surely a kiss goodbye is permissible in the circumstances?’ He drew her resisting body into his arms and kissed her, taking his time over it, the shape and taste and touch of his lips so frighteningly familiar she had no defence against the hot, consuming pleasure of the kiss. When the phone interrupted stridently, bringing her back to earth, she wrenched away to answer it, but James grabbed her hand, shaking his head. He snatched up the receiver and snarled a response.
Rose waited, tense, as he listened for a second.
‘Who the hell is this?’ James demanded roughly. ‘Whoever you are you can stop your game right now. I’ve informed the police, so this call is being traced as we speak—’ He broke off, lips twitching as he listened. ‘Ah! I see. Sorry. Of course. I’ll hand you over right now.’
‘Who the devil was that?’ howled Anthony in Rose’s ear.
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