Dark Betrayal

by Patricia Lake

  'He had a right to know, it's his child too,' Oliver repeated what he had said that morning. 'I didn't want to see you struggling alone. You take too much on yourself, don't you see?'

  Knowing that he had her best interests at heart, took some of the wind out of Deborah's sails. 'Well, there's not much chance of my being alone now,' she grumbled, holding out her cup for more coffee.

  'Why, what's happened?' Oliver eyed her with undisguised curiosity.

  For a moment Deborah was tempted to tell him about Jake's blackmail. But it was not his problem. He could only worry about her, and she didn't want that. 'It looks as though I'll be married this time next week,' she revealed grudgingly.

  'Good God!' Oliver tried to hide his shock, by adding hastily, 'Congratulations! That's great news.'

  'Is it?'

  'Of course it is, you silly girl.' He stood up, searching the cupboards for glasses and whisky. 'We need something stronger to celebrate this.'

  Deborah stared at him open mouthed. 'You don't even like him!' she exclaimed. And when he didn't turn round. 'Oliver, are you listening to me? Have you gone mad?'

  Oliver turned his head, smiling broadly. 'Actually, I liked him a lot better today. And I've always thought his plays were brilliant.'

  'You . . . you traitor!' She could hardly believe her ears. Even Oliver was on Jake's side now. 'If you like him so much, you can marry him,' she said, her green eyes glinting.

  'You don't want to get married?' Oliver's smile was devilish.

  'No—yes—no, of course I don't,' she stumbled damningly.

  The smile grew wider. 'Why not? You love him, don't you?'

  There was nothing Deborah could say to that.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The wedding ceremony was a quiet affair with only Oliver and Tess as witnesses.

  Deborah felt numb as she heard Jake's deep voice taking the vows, her hand trembling as he slid the heavy gold band on to her wedding finger. Her own voice seemed too high, hardly recognisable as she promised to love and honour until she died.

  She was dressed in cream silk, paid for by Jake at his insistence. Inside, the designer label was explanation enough for the beautiful cut. It was simple in style, flowing over the curves of her body, with satin embroidery around the low neck. The loose matching jacket was also embroidered, the silk smooth and sensual against her skin. Around her neck lay a necklace of emeralds, rubies and diamonds set in gold, another present from Jake. It was exquisitely beautiful, heavy and cold against her throat. He had given it to her the day before the wedding, his eyes cool and expressionless. And although she had refused to accept it, he had insisted, brushing aside her protests until she had to give in.

  She glanced at him now from beneath the sweep of her lashes, and her breath caught painfully. He was wearing a dark, expensively cut suit, his white shirt immaculate, his black hair brushed back from the hard lines of his face. He seemed calm and remote, a powerful, attractive stranger.

  As the ceremony ended, he turned and touched her mouth with his own. It was a brief kiss, over before

  Deborah realised his intention. Her startled eyes met his, and the cool mockery she saw in his face brought the colour pouring into her cheeks.

  They left the building to drive to Jake's house where a reception party had been arranged. She felt the weight of his arm around her shoulders, and shivered, somehow hurt by the careless intimacy. What have I done, she thought in panic. What the hell have I done?

  As they stepped into the cold April air, they were confronted by a battery of clicking cameras, and the dazzling brightness of flashguns. Somebody was calling Jake's name, questions buzzing around them. Deborah stood dazed for a second, jostled and pushed by the reporters, bombarded with questions, some insultingly personal, until Jake guided her quickly into his car. He drove away without hesitation, leaving the small crowd of people still moving, still taking photographs.

  'Are you all right?' He glanced at her and she nodded. 'Who the hell tipped them off?' he wondered irritably, as they reached the edge of the city.

  'Don't look at me,' she retorted, smoothing back her hair. Jake was obviously very newsworthy, used to the attention, but it was the first time it had happened to her and she still felt a little shocked by the pushing, the demanding questions and avid curiosity. They reminded her of vultures, fighting for blood.

  She glanced surreptitiously at Jake's profile and found it hard and expressionless. She looked down at the heavy gold band on her finger, playing with it nervously. She didn't know him at all. There were so many sides to his character. She couldn't possibly guess what he was thinking now. Worry prickled down her spine, and she shivered.

  'Cold?' He picked up on it immediately, averting his eyes from the road for a second.

  'No, frightened, I suppose,' she answered truthfully.

  'About what?'

  'You know damn well!' She turned away, staring out of the window at the grey clouds scudding low across the sky. Jake was silent for a moment, then he said, 'You're not a child, Deborah, don't act like one.'

  'I didn't want to get married,' she glared at him, hurt by his coldness, knowing that she sounded like the child he accused her of being.

  'Sulking won't change the situation,' he said, but he was smiling, a quality of tenderness in his voice.

  Deborah felt her heart lurching painfully, and lapsed into silence for the rest of the journey.

  Everybody was waiting for them when they arrived. The house was full of people. Deborah took a glass of champagne and found herself swallowed up in the crowd. People she didn't know, rushed over, congratulating her and Jake. Beautiful, impeccably-dressed women eyed her up and down assessingly. No doubt wondering how she had managed to capture the interest of a man like Jake, she thought wryly, as she fended off their pointed questions. Hands caught her waist from behind, and turning, she found herself face to face with Cole.

  'Great party,' he said, but he wasn't smiling. 'I suppose congratulations are in order.'

  'You don't approve?' she parried lightly, her eyes smiling into his.

  'What do you think? Three years ago, I helped throw that guy out, remember? I saw what he did to you last time you got involved with him.'

  Deborah lowered her eyes, knowing with a rush of sadness, that all Cole's bitterness stemmed from jealousy.

  She remembered that balmy night on Corfu, when he had almost told her how he felt about her. It seemed a million years ago, as though it had happened to a different person. 'I love him,' she said gently, hoping that Cole would understand.

  'I know. You don't have to spell it out, it's written all over your face.'

  'I wish ... I wish you could be happy for me,' she said quietly.

  'That's asking too much, sweetheart.' He threw back the whisky in his glass, grabbing another from the tray of a passing waiter. 'And you know damn well why.'

  'Don't.' She touched his arm, her eyes pleading.

  'Don't what? Is my beautiful young wife begging favours, Sullivan?' Jake's cool hard voice cut between them, and Deborah found him beside her. How long had he been standing there, she wondered. Had he heard it all? His eyes were clear and ice cold, his chill glance sweeping from Cole to Deborah.

  Cole laughed, but his eyes held nervousness as though he had picked up the barely veiled threat in Jake's careless remark. 'I'm just lamenting the loss of the best designer I ever had on the books.'

  'It won't be forever,' Deborah said soothingly. 'After I've had the baby, I'll be able to work from home. And until then, you know very well that Cassandra can take my place. Her work is brilliant and she's been waiting ages for a chance like this.'

  Cole smiled. 'You keep telling me that, so I guess I have to believe it.' He looked at Jake. 'You're a very lucky man.'

  'I know,' Jake replied, the words perfectly courteous but delivered with an edge of ice. He slid his arm around Deborah's shoulders, and guided her away.

  'You were so rude to him,' she accused, as soon as they we
re out of earshot.

  'He's drunk,' Jake said, shooting her a narrowed, probing look. 'Why, I wonder?'

  'I don't know what you mean.' She averted her eyes, colour staining her cheeks.

  Jake's glance became speculative, his mouth a hard straight line. 'I mean that it's out of character.'

  Deborah didn't comment, and he said, 'Was your relationship with him more than just professional?'

  Flustered, she retorted, 'That's a terrible thing to suggest.' She felt angry at his perception. He looked at Cole and saw everything.

  'And that doesn't answer my question.' The grey eyes held hers in cold silent demand.

  Defeated, she gave in. 'I'm very fond of Cole,' she said quietly. 'But we're not lovers. It's never been like that.'

  Jake smiled, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. 'He's in love with you.'

  'I hope not.' She didn't want to hurt Cole, although she knew in her heart that Jake was right. Why did love always hurt?

  'Dance with me,' Jake said softly, sensing her unhappiness.

  'I don't want to dance.' For some reason she felt belligerent, close to tears, her emotions in turmoil.

  'You're going to anyway. It's expected of us,' he told her in a clipped voice, his face brooking no argument as he took her in his arms. As they moved to the music, Deborah let her head rest against his wide shoulder. She felt the hard strength of his body against her own, and a dizzying weakness filled her.

  Did they look like a couple deeply involved with each other, she wondered painfully. Did they look like lovers? The idea was too attractive to be in any way amusing, and she stopped her thoughts in their tracks, letting her mind drift, allowing her body to move instinctively with Jake's to the soft music.

  The party drifted on, and Deborah drank far too much champagne in an effort to get through it all in one piece. She began to feel lightheaded, almost happy, falling into the gay spirit of the party. On her way down the wide polished staircase, after checking her hair, and make-up, she suddenly found Leila blocking her way. Neither girl smiled. Leila had obviously just arrived, a black woollen coat slung over her arm. She was beautiful, Deborah had to admit, her black hair pulled back from her sculptured face and held in a diamond clip, her dress black chiffon that revealed every curve of her perfect figure and long legs.

  As the silence lengthened, Deborah decided that she had to break it. 'Hello, Leila,' she said coolly. 'How are you?'

  Leila didn't answer, her eyes on the gold wedding ring on Deborah's finger.

  'I suppose you think you've been very clever,' she finally said, her face suddenly full of hatred, her voice heavily accented in anger.

  Deborah saw that hatred and recoiled from it. 'What .. . what are you talking about?' she asked faintly. To be confronted with such intense hostility had thrown her off balance.

  'You' Leila replied acidly. 'I'm talking about

  you, somehow managing to trick Jake into marriage.'

  'Now just a minute' Deborah began, but Leila

  cut her off.

  'How did you do it?' she demanded, her black eyes burning. 'How on earth could you have managed it? The oldest trick in the book, perhaps? Have you told him that you're pregnant?'

  She had hit on the truth purely by accident, but Deborah felt herself flushing, giving herself away.

  Leila laughed, a high hysterical laugh. 'You won't get away with it. You won't last five minutes. Jake belongs to me,' she said, misinterpreting Deborah's reaction.

  'Excuse me.' Sickened by the venom she heard in Leila's voice, Deborah tried to walk away, but the other girl caught her arm, her long red nails digging spitefully into Deborah's skin. 'Don't make yourself too comfortable here,' she advised viciously. 'I did it once and I'll do it again. You'll be out of this house

  within the month, I can promise you' She

  stopped, her eyes focusing over Deborah's shoulder. 'Jake, darling .. .' She let go of Deborah and rushed towards Jake, who was strolling towards them. She flung her arms around his neck, her mood completely different, smiling as she reached up to kiss his mouth.

  Deborah watched wide-eyed, astonished. From spitting poison one second, Leila had changed, now warm and smiling as she stared up into Jake's grey eyes.

  'You're late,' he said indulgently, untangling her arms from around his neck and gently pushing her away.

  'I know. Forgive me, I was delayed.' Her voice was sweet and pleading, childlike.

  'You called the newspapers, didn't you?' Jake said, but there was no anger in his voice.

  'Did I?' Leila laughed, pleased with herself.

  Deborah turned away in disgust. Obviously Leila was still in love with Jake, even though she believed him that they were no longer lovers.

  She heard Jake calling her name as she wandered back into the party, but she ignored him, her mind spinning with Leila's threats, her vicious anger. To Deborah, she had seemed unbalanced, on the verge of a breakdown. She could feel sympathy but she still couldn't like her.

  'There you are!' Tess' voice broke into her troubled thoughts. 'I've been looking for you for ages. Where's Jake?'

  'He's in the hall with Leila,' Deborah replied, trying to keep her voice expressionless.

  'Oh, but ...' Tess seemed about to say something, then thought better of it. She took Deborah's arm, squeezing it affectionately. 'I'm so happy for you both.' Her smile grew confidential. 'And I've got a confession to make.'

  Deborah found herself smiling too. 'What is it?'

  'My birthday party. I was matchmaking,' Tess admitted without remorse.

  'Really? I'd never have guessed!' Deborah laughed, partly at the irony of it all.

  'I had to tell you,' Tess said, her eyes very bright. 'You were obviously made for each other and you were both so miserable.'

  Deborah couldn't believe that Jake had ever been miserable without her. Tess was just an incurable romantic.

  'What about you?' she asked, changing the subject.

  'There's nobody special, but I haven't given up hope.'

  There was an untouched longing on her face, and Deborah thought sadly, I must have looked like that once.

  The party broke up late and it was after midnight when the last guests drifted away. Alone with Jake in the lounge, Deborah stared into the flames of the roaring fire and felt her heart beating too quickly. It was a beautiful comfortable room with pale magnolia walls, thick jewel-bright carpets and sofas covered with lightly-patterned chintz.

  Two silk covered lamps threw pools of intimate light across the room and on a low carved table stood the tray of coffee Daisy had brought in five minutes earlier. The silence was broken only by the quiet ticking of the old wooden clock on the mantelpiece and the cracking of the logs on the fire. The tray had been left near Deborah and she leaned over to it now.

  'Do you want coffee?' she asked, and her voice sounded high and breathless.

  Jake looked at her, his eyes very dark. 'Yes, thank you.'

  Deborah poured from the silver pot. 'Cream, sugar?' she asked unnecessarily.

  The dark grey eyes held hers. 'You know how I take my coffee,' he said quietly.

  Without answering, she handed him the delicate china cup. Yes, she knew how he took his coffee. Strong and black with no sugar, he drank gallons of the stuff. She remembered everything she had ever learned about him, every tiny detail. And that depressed her. She drank her own coffee, her fingers shaking around the cup.

  Around them the house was silent. She had offered to help Daisy with the clearing up, but the housekeeper had assured her that the hired staff were seeing to it all, and there was absolutely nothing she could do.

  She felt tired. The day had been a long one, stretching her nerves. She felt restless too. She didn't know how she should act with Jake. She didn't know what was expected of her.

  In making the arrangements for the wedding, he had consulted her, wanting to know her opinions. She had refused to co-operate, still angry, telling him to get on with it himself. He had done just th
at, and she wished now that she had taken an active interest. At the time, she had been defiant. By not knowing any of the details, the wedding had seemed less real. She could pretend that it wasn't happening. It had been another mistake.

  She looked at Jake and found him watching her, his expression veiled. In the soft light his face was shadowed and she felt the powerful magnetism of his attraction, pulling her against her will.

  He smiled lazily. 'You look serious?'

  She shrugged. 'It's a been a long day.' She was non-committal, fighting a sudden and almost overpowering urge to go to him and beg him to make love to her.

  She looked away and said, 'Caroline Winters wasn't at the party.'

  'No.' He was as non-committal as she had been.

  'You didn't invite her?' Something forced her to ask. Examining her need to know, she found that she was jealous, fiercely jealous of every woman Jake showed an interest in, every woman he looked at.

  'She wouldn't have come.' He looked at her, mockery in his smile.

  'Why? Are you and she?' She broke off, biting

  her lip. Did she really want to know? Did she have the right to ask?

  'Lovers?' Jake supplied calmly. Deborah nodded, averting her eyes from the lean hardness of his face.

  Although she was frightened of the truth, she found she did want to know.

  'Is it important?' His voice revealed nothing.

  'Yes,' she whispered, uncaring of what she betrayed, her green eyes finding his.

  Jake was silent as he searched her face, then he said. 'We had a brief affair about a year ago. She's a good actress, she's worked in a few of my plays. We're still friends, nothing more.'