by Sara Craven
Marin was shaking, but she managed to lift her chin. ‘You’re crude,’ she said with quiet clarity. ‘Crude and unbelievably vile.’
‘And you, Miss Wade, are a fool,’ Diana retorted, shrugging. ‘Oh, I expect you’ll be enough of a novelty to become the flavour of the month for a little while.’ She shrugged. ‘After all, I’m sure he’s grateful if nothing else. But he also gets bored very easily—and very quickly. He’ll soon have exhausted all your limited possibilities.
‘And he certainly doesn’t do happy-ever-after, in case you were hoping.’
‘I wasn’t.’ Marin’s voice was ice, chipped from the shivering emptiness inside her. ‘But thanks for your concern, if that’s what it is. Goodbye, Mrs Halsay.’
She walked past Diana into the house, heading blindly across the drawing room and out into the hall to the downstairs cloakroom, her heart beating like a wild creature chased by hunters.
She shot the small, brass bolt on the door, then walked across to the tiled vanity unit with its scented soaps, hand lotions and pile of small, fluffy towels. Leaning over the shell-shaped basin, she retched drily and weakly.
As the feeling of nausea began to pass and she felt marginally calmer, she straightened, turning on the cold tap and letting the water run over the pulses in her wrists. She caught her reflection in the large gilt-edged mirror right in front of her.
Found herself looking at—understanding—what Diana Halsay had seen: all the signs of self-betrayal. The shadowed, dreaming eyes emphasised by the smudges of sleeplessness beneath them; the sensuous, luminous pallor of her skin and the soft mouth, blurred and swollen with kissing.
Well and truly laid. Diana’s words ate into her brain like acid. Corrosive, destructive.
Has Jake taken pity on you at last? Like a starving kid outside a baker’s window.
Comments that made her feel as if the skin had been flayed from her body. Because she could not deny that they held a basic truth.
I thought I’d been so clever, she thought, pretending to pretend, hiding what I was truly feeling. But I was only fooling myself. And all the time people have been laughing at me.
She poured water into her cupped hands, splashing it on to her face as if she could wash away the evidence of last night. Of her appalling weakness. Her stupidity. That, she thought, above all.
And now she had to go back and face them, the occupants of this small, malicious world, and the man who’d brought her here. Subjected her to this. The man she now had to rely on to take her out of it and back to where she really belonged, she reminded herself bitterly.
And quelled the sob rising in her throat.
The dining room was mercifully empty. There was coffee on a hot-plate on the sideboard and she poured some into a cup, swallowing it in great, painful gulps, trying to dispel the chill inside her.
She did not turn as she heard someone enter the room, but she knew instantly who it was, and her body tensed painfully.
Jake’s arms slid round her waist, drawing her back against him as he nuzzled her neck. ‘Where did you go?’
By some supreme effort, her voice sounded almost normal. ‘I—I couldn’t sleep.’
‘You should have woken me.’ He smiled against her skin. ‘I know the perfect cure for insomnia.’
‘Anyway, it was morning.’ She remembered lying in his arms, watching night turn into day, her body glowing with joy and fulfilment. Making her forget that people spoke about ‘the cold light of dawn’. Meaning a time when reason and commonsense kicked in. Even a time for an agony of shame and bitter regret.
‘You speak as if that makes a difference,’ he said softly. ‘All evidence to the contrary.’
The words twisted inside her like a knife. She released herself. ‘How—how soon can we leave here, please?’
‘It’s usual to stay for lunch,’ he said after a pause. ‘But we can go earlier, if that’s what you want.’
‘Yes.’ Her voice shook a little. ‘I—really want to. I—I’ve had enough.’
‘Which makes two of us, believe me.’
Believe me. Oh God, how could he say that? she wondered, unable to look at him as he stood beside her, casually helping himself to coffee.
‘You go and pack our things,’ he went on. ‘While I have a final brief word with Graham, and then we can be off.’
Marin was standing by her bedroom window, gazing sightlessly at the garden, some fifteen minutes later when she heard him go into his room. A moment later, he appeared in the doorway.
‘You didn’t pack for me?’
She turned defensively. ‘I didn’t know you wanted me to.’ It was a lie. She couldn’t bear the implied intimacy of handling his clothing, touching things he’d worn recently. Behaving as if they were a couple.
He shrugged, sending her a faintly puzzled look. ‘It would have saved time, that’s all. But it doesn’t really matter.’
He paused. ‘I’ve already said our farewells. Our hostess has swept her female guests off to the tennis court, and Graham and the guys are planning to play poker.’
He smiled at her. ‘I’ll throw my things together then, with one bound, we can be free.’
The garden blurred suddenly, but her voice was steady. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We can.’ And felt her heart break.
CHAPTER NINE
THE VILLAGE WAS several miles behind them. That part of her ordeal was over, but now she had to deal with its aftermath.
In spite of herself, she found she was glancing sideways at his hands on the wheel of the car as they steered it, controlled it, with effortless expertise.
Just as he’d done with her last night. His hands on her body touching, arousing, with the same precision. Taking her exactly where he wanted her to go.
And, God help her, she’d wanted it too. Had wanted all of it and more. Had wanted the glory of him with her, inside her, as they reached paradise together. Had prayed for it never to stop.
Only to find all that pain, hunger and rapture belittled—reduced to words like pity, reward and gratitude. The passion she’d imagined replaced by a sense of obligation.
He’d performed, she thought. He’d given her pleasure, because she’d made it so shamefully clear that was what she required. Why she’d thrown herself at him, as she had.
He knew how to arouse—to fulfil, but that did not mean that he had to be emotionally engaged. Inexperienced as she was, she’d been aware of his restraint. Maybe he’d simply known how little effort on his part would be needed to bring her to climax. Turn her into his willing creature.
Worst of all, she’d ignored the fact that he’d tried to step back from her.
Suddenly she remembered Greg, standing in the flat in France. ‘She’s no bloody oil-painting,’ he’d said, the words dripping with contempt. ‘Who the hell would want to start anything with such a pathetic little object?’
Oh God, she whispered under her breath. How can it be possible to hurt so much? To feel so ashamed?
‘Well, that’s that, thank God.’ She started as Jake’s voice intruded on her unhappy reverie. ‘Would you mind if we made a slight detour?’
She swallowed. ‘Why should we do that?’
‘There’s somewhere we could have lunch,’ he said. There was a smile in his voice. ‘It’s not too far out of our way, and you might like it.’
‘Thank you.’ Her voice was polite but definite. ‘But I’d rather go straight back to London. If you don’t mind.’
She couldn’t bear, she thought, to spend any more time with him than was strictly necessary. And once this journey was over she would never see him again.
‘Well, just as you want,’ he said after a pause. ‘The other will keep, and maybe London is the best option at this point. How about I drop you at the flat to pack the rest of your stuff and collect you in an hour or so?’
‘Collect me?’ Marin repeated. Her head turned sharply towards him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I live in Chelsea, darling,’ he said. ‘You do
n’t imagine I’d suggest you get there by public transport?’
‘I know where you live,’ she said. ‘How does it concern me?’
There was a silence, then Jake said quietly, ‘I’d imagined it would concern you very closely.’ He slowed the car, driving on to the broad grass verge, then braked and switched the engine off. He unfastened his seat belt and turned, frowning slightly as the blue eyes searched her face.
He said, ‘You see, I thought—I hoped—that you’d be moving in with me.’ He smiled faintly. ‘After all, I can hardly come and live with you. Lynne would have a heart attack if she had to fight me for the shower each morning. Or if she found us in the bath together.’
The flavour of the month for a little while…
Pain twisted inside her as she recalled those other mocking words, which had told her nothing but the truth.
Instead, she moved suddenly, restively. ‘You think I’m coming to live with you because of what happened last night?’ She shook her head. ‘That’s—over and done with. And now I have my own life to go back to. So I have no intention of sharing anyone else’s, even on a temporary basis. I never did.’
His gaze sharpened. Became incredulous. ‘What the hell are you talking about.’
‘About the parting of the ways.’ She made herself look at him, coolly and calmly. ‘We had a deal, but today it ends. And nothing takes its place.’
There was a silence, then he said quietly, ‘Darling, you don’t—you can’t mean that.’ He unclipped her seat belt and reached for her.
She recoiled and said hoarsely, ‘Don’t touch me. Just—don’t…’
‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ His tone was harsh. ‘I gave up wrestling in cars years ago. I just want to hold you while I find out what’s going on here.’
‘Haven’t I made it clear enough?’ she asked, her heart thudding. ‘You hired me to do a job. My part of the bargain is complete. All that remains is for you, Mr Radley-Smith, to give me the money you promised.’ She paused. ‘Unless, of course, you consider that last night was payment in kind? All debts settled and nothing more due?’
‘No,’ he said, his eyes narrowing. ‘I think nothing of the kind. And why this sudden ludicrous formality? You called out my first name when you were coming only a few hours ago.’
‘That was then.’ Marin kept her voice steady. ‘This is now. So spare me any further reminders of last night’s events, please.’
‘Why should I do that?’ Jake threw back at her. ‘Or am I supposed to pretend it didn’t happen?’
‘Put it down to an error of judgement.’ She hesitated. ‘I shouldn’t drink when I’m not used to it.’
‘Oh no, darling,’ he said softly. ‘You can’t blame the demon alcohol for that particular turn of events, and you know that as well as I do. We may not have been very wise, but we were both sober.’ He paused. ‘So—what’s the real problem?’
‘No problem at all.’ She didn’t look at him. ‘I just have no wish to compound my mistake. And any further involvement with you, Mr Radley-Smith, would be a seriously bad idea.’
She swallowed. ‘Or did you think, having given me the ultimate good time in bed, I’d be begging you for more?’
How could she be saying these things? she asked herself with a kind of anguish. Was this the price she had to pay for self-preservation? To ensure that he would leave her strictly alone from now on?
‘That never crossed my mind,’ he said. ‘But I think I deserve some kind of explanation for this—volte face.’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’d almost forgotten. You’re the one who usually decides when it’s over and walks away. Well, this time it’s my prerogative.’
‘Is there someone else in your life?’ he asked abruptly. ‘Another man?’
‘That’s none of your business.’ Marin lifted her chin. ‘And you’re not in my life, Mr Radley-Smith. You just—passed through it.’ She took another deep breath. ‘And now maybe we could go back to London. Unless you’d prefer me to hitch a lift to the nearest station?’
‘That won’t be necessary.’ His voice was as grim as his face. He buckled his seat belt and switched on the engine. ‘Tell me one last thing, Marin. What actually became of the girl who slept in my arms last night?’
She shrugged. ‘She woke up. It’s that simple.’
‘Really?’ he asked ironically. ‘I’ll have to take your word for that. Because I find it incredibly complicated.’ And he turned the car back on to the road and drove off with a burst of acceleration that she recognised as pure anger.
He’d assumed that she’d be happy to fall in with any plan he put to her, she thought, her throat tightening. And he didn’t like to lose the initiative or be thwarted. It must have been a long time since he was the target of such positive resistance. Perhaps he wouldn’t take his next lady so much for granted, she told herself, and wanted to burst into tears.
It was a long and silent journey. Marin sat, her fingers clasped so tightly in her lap that they ached, allowing herself an occasional surreptitious peep at his bleak profile.
She’d done what she had to, she told herself, even if she felt as if the heart had been torn out of her body in the process.
When they reached the flat, Jake slotted the car into a parking place she’d have said was impossibly small. Always in control, she thought stonily.
As he lifted her bag from the boot, she held out her hand. ‘I’ll take that, please.’
He stared at her. ‘May I not even come in with you?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
As she took the case from him, his fingers closed over hers.
‘Marin,’ he said. ‘Not like this. Please. I know it’s a cliché, but we really need to talk.’
‘There’s nothing left to say.’ She moved a defensive shoulder. ‘Your important client has been convinced that you’re not after his wife. And that’s what it was all about.’
‘Apart from the money, of course,’ he said.
‘Of course,’ Marin echoed. She turned away. ‘You can mail me the cheque.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I prefer to deal with it now, even if we are in the street.’
He produced his cheque book, rested it on the roof of the car, wrote then tore out the slip and handed it to her.
She stared at the amount, then looked at him. ‘It’s not what we agreed,’ she said. ‘It’s too much. Another thousand pounds too much.’
‘Call it a bonus.’ He shrugged, his blue gaze flicking over her. His sudden smile was reminiscent. Insolent. ‘Let’s say for services above and beyond the call of duty.’ He paused. ‘And I’ll be in touch,’ he added softly, then got back in the car and drove off.
Marin wanted to tear the cheque into tiny pieces and fling them after him, but something warned her that if she did, and he saw, he would know that it mattered to her—that it mattered terribly.
And that was something that needed to remain her secret for ever.
There was a note from Lynne waiting for her. ‘At Mike’s. Hope all went well. See you later,’ it informed her succinctly.
No, it didn’t, Marin thought. And, no, you won’t.
She’d had time to think during those endless miles in the car, and to make a decision. She was due to travel down to Essex and the new assignment tomorrow, but there was nothing to stop her going that afternoon and spending the night in a bed and breakfast.
That way, she would not have to face her stepsister until she’d managed to regain some measure of control over her stormy emotions.
I can’t tell her what really happened, she thought. I can’t.
Jake’s parting remark had set her alarm bells ringing too.
But if he can’t find me he can’t be in touch, she reassured herself.
She put the new travel-bag in the wardrobe just as it was and found her usual case, packing it efficiently and deftly with working gear, reverting to the crisp, businesslike person she’d lost sight of in a fit of momentary madness.
I need these four weeks, she thought, as a breathing space to put myself together again. And when I come back I’ll find somewhere else to live. Most of the other girls at work share flats, and they often have spare rooms. So I’ll be all right. I’ll be fine.
And, above all, for the next month I’ll be too busy to think. And perhaps because of this, please God, I can start to forget him.
Didn’t someone say he was easier to recover from once you were out of bed? I can only pray that it’s true.
‘Rubbing shoulders with nature for the past month doesn’t seem to have done you much good,’ was Lynne’s first comment once she’d hugged her. ‘You’re looking pale, my pet.’
Marin shrugged. ‘They all took me out to the local Chinese restaurant last night,’ she returned. ‘I think the sweet and sour sauce seriously disagreed with me. But I’m fine again now.’
Except that she wasn’t, because Mike arrived that evening, fresh from playing in a charity cricket-match, and hefting a bulging carrier bag.
‘To welcome home the exile,’ he announced. ‘I’ve got all your favourites. Chow mein, Kung Po chicken, shrimps in special sauce, beef with water chestnuts and a paddy field of fried rice.’
This time, to Marin’s dismay, just the smell did it, and she fled.
‘If you’re no better in the morning,’ Lynne ordained sternly, handing her a glass of water, ‘You must see the doctor. You could need antibiotics.’
‘I’d settle for a stomach transplant,’ Marin said wanly. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever look a Chinese meal in the face again. Let’s hope it’s over.’
But she hoped in vain.
‘Right,’ Lynne said briskly, coming into the bedroom where she lay hunched and miserable under the covers. ‘I’ve phoned Wendy Ingram and explained why you won’t be in, and Dr Jarvis will see you at two-thirty.’ She paused. ‘Can I leave you anything? Hot coffee, maybe?’