by Sara Craven
For a moment his smile seemed to strip her naked, then the door closed behind him and Paige was alone.
She sat for a while, staring in front of her, her mind running in circles. Her lips felt tender, and her breasts ached in bittersweet arousal.
She couldn’t believe how easily Nick had brought her to the edge of surrender, in spite of her high resolve. How could she have allowed him to kiss her—to touch her like that? she asked herself, shivering. As if she was some plaything for his pleasure. Why hadn’t she fought—rejected him in her turn?
You fool, she castigated herself passionately. You weak, pathetic fool.
She got up, moving stiffly, and began to retrieve her belongings and thrust them into her bag.
When I return. His words seemed to hammer at her brain. She felt the breath catch in her throat and her hands start to shake.
When he returned, she thought, she would not be here. She could not afford the risk.
She found the hotel information file in a drawer in the night table. She found the address of the consulate, copied it on to the back of the little town map, which was also included, and slipped it into her bag.
The lift wasn’t working, of course, so she went down the stairs, half expecting to come face to face with Nick at any moment. But her luck held, and she was able to gain the ground floor in safety. Once there, the foyer was heaving with people, and it was comparatively simple to slide unobtrusively to the door. But with every step she took she was waiting to hear his voice calling her name, his hand on her shoulder.
Her heart was thudding like a steam hammer as she went outside. The wind was still quite fierce, but the air felt hot and dank. There was little traffic on the road, but people were scurrying about, heads bent, picking their way through the debris which littered the pavements.
Paige took a deep breath, hoisted her bag on to her shoulder, and began to run.
It was raining when she got back to the cottage. She put the car away and walked round to the front door, shoulders hunched in her thin jacket. It had been, she thought, the longest four days of her life.
The consulate staff had been kind, but harassed as they’d tried to deal with the problems of all the British nationals who’d been stranded. But when they’d discovered Paige wasn’t hell-bent on obtaining a seat on the first plane out, they had happily found her a room with breakfast in a small, unpretentious hotel a couple of streets away. And there she had taken cover, only emerging when she’d been sure the backlog of passengers had been shifted and Nick was long gone.
The flight home had been dullness itself, and she’d slept through most of it.
Inside the hall, Paige paused for a moment, waiting for her home to work its usual magic and wrap unseen arms around her in comfort and welcome. But nothing happened. The air felt stale and chilly, the mat was littered with mail—mostly bills and circulars, by the look of it—and on the hall table the answering machine was blinking furiously.
Sighing, Paige put her travel bag by the stairs and pressed the button to retrieve her messages. They were all, she discovered without pleasure, from an increasingly agitated Toby. Something had clearly rattled his cage, and she was sure it wasn’t simple concern for her well-being.
On the other hand there was no call from Nick, as she’d been half expecting, so maybe he still hadn’t tracked her to her private hideaway—and that had to be a relief. Toby, she thought, her mouth twisting, she could deal with.
She went into the kitchen, filled the kettle and put it on the stove. She would go round to the Hall this evening, she decided. She’d called from Sainte Marie as soon as the phone service had been restored, to reassure her father that she was safe and well, but there were questions which needed to be asked—and answered—without delay.
She made her coffee and took it, with the pile of mail, into the sitting room. She went over to the casement to open a window, and as she did so heard a car come down the lane at speed and squeal to a halt at her gate.
A second later Toby strode grimly up the path and committed an assault on her brass door knocker. Mouth tightening, Paige went to admit him.
His opening was unpromising. ‘Where the hell have you been?’
‘Hello, brother dear, and it’s good to see you too,’ Paige returned with an affability she did not feel. ‘Ever heard of Hurricane Minna?’
‘That was ages ago,’ he said impatiently. ‘And you’ve been needed back here. I’ve got to talk to you.’
Paige groaned inwardly. ‘I’ve only just arrived back,’ she protested. ‘Why don’t I come over for dinner tonight, and we’ll talk afterwards?’
He shook his head. ‘It needs to be now, and in private.’ He paused. ‘We’ve got big trouble.’
‘Really?’ Paige shook her head. ‘Well, I have problems of my own.’ She paused. ‘I—I ran into Nick Destry while I was away.’
‘You did?’ Toby stared at her. ‘How did he seem? What did he say?’
Paige shrugged evasively. ‘He was his usual obnoxious self.’
‘Well, I hope to God you didn’t upset him,’ Toby said peevishly. ‘Because we need him good-tempered and inclined to be generous. There’s an emergency board meeting tomorrow, and all hell could break loose.’
Oh, no. The words groaned in her head. Paige swallowed. ‘You’d better sit down,’ she said bleakly. ‘Do you want coffee?’
‘I need a drink.’ He glanced round. ‘Scotch, if you’ve got it. And you’d better have one too.’
She walked to the corner cupboard, where she kept her small supply of alcohol, and splashed whisky into two tumblers.
She handed one to her brother. ‘What’s happened?’
He took a gulp of his drink. ‘Remember the Seagrove development?’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘But that’s finished, isn’t it? All the houses were sold.’
He nodded. ‘The first people were starting to move in when they noticed cracks in the walls, and floors, and started complaining. We didn’t take too much notice at first, because it’s quite common in new houses as they settle. But they said it was worse than that, and got in their own independent surveyor to check.’
Toby shuddered. ‘He had the foundations tested and said they were unsound. That there was too much sand and gravel in the soil, and the problem would just get worse and worse. He sent us this nightmare forty page report, and an estimate of how much it’s going to cost to put right.’ His voice sank to a whisper. ‘Hundreds of thousands of pounds—and everyone will have to move out while the work is done, so there’ll be compensation too.’
Paige stared at him, her lips parted in shock. ‘But that’s impossible.’ Her voice was sharp. ‘Presumably we had the soil tested. The lab’s never let us down before.’
Toby stared down into his glass. ‘We didn’t use the normal lab,’ he muttered. ‘This guy I was at school with had just started up, and he was so much cheaper.’
‘Did you consult your fellow directors about it?’
‘I didn’t think it was necessary,’ he said defensively. ‘He offered me this really good deal. I—I didn’t see what could go wrong.’
Paige closed her eyes for a moment, and counted slowly to ten. Then, when she could trust her voice, ‘Then we sue him.’
Toby shook his head miserably. ‘He’s gone into receivership. He owes the Revenue and the VAT, so we’d come a poor last even if he had any assets.’ He stared at Paige with the eyes of a beaten dog. ‘It’s all down to Harrington Holdings. We’re going to have to pay. And the residents are threatening to go to the press, as well as to court.’
Paige drew a deep breath. ‘Do Maitland Destry know?’
‘They didn’t—at first. I thought I could maybe sort something out. But that accountant guy Nick installed to snoop on us got hold of the report and faxed it to him. So the balloon’s gone up. He called this meeting three days ago—when he came back from vacation.’
‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘Of course he did.’
&nbs
p; There’d been no need to worry after all, she thought bleakly. Nick had more important matters to pursue than an errant wife.
‘When you saw him, did he mention all this?’
‘I suppose so,’ Paige said wearily. ‘But obliquely. I didn’t really know what he was getting at.’
‘Did he give any indication of what he might do? If he might be prepared to bail us out again?’ There was a note of real desperation in Toby’s voice. ‘I tell you, Sis, if he resigns from the board, and Maitland Destry pull the rug out from under us, we’re finished too. There’s no way we can go on.’
‘Do you think that’s likely?’ Paige traced the cut crystal of the tumbler with her forefinger. ‘Surely he’ll prefer to recoup his investment if he can?’
Toby shook his head. ‘I just don’t know any more. There are all kinds of rumours flying. Like he’s going to bring in his own team to run the company. What will we do if that happens?’
Paige shrugged. ‘Bite on the bullet and work with them, I suppose.’
‘But that may not be an option.’ He looked as if he was going to cry. ‘People are saying we could all be sidelined, or worse. And who’d offer me another job once I’d been blacklisted by Nick Destry?’
She hesitated. ‘Toby—I don’t know what his plans are.’
‘You must know something.’ Toby faced her with sudden belligerence. ‘You’re his wife, for God’s sake.’
‘No.’ Paige lifted her chin. ‘And I never have been. It was only ever a paper marriage, as you know perfectly well.’
‘So you say.’ Toby hunched a petulant shoulder. ‘But Denise is damned shrewd about these things, and she’s always said you were both gagging for each other from day one.’
Paige’s lip curled in distaste. ‘Your wife has such a way with words. Besides, fooling her was part of the package, if you remember.’
‘Well, try fooling your husband instead,’ Toby said eagerly. ‘You could get round him if you wanted—find out what he’s planning. He’s only a man, after all, so start behaving like a woman for once in your life.’
Paige set down her glass and rose. ‘Let’s pretend you didn’t say that,’ she told him quietly. ‘I think you’d better go.’
Toby groaned. ‘I’m sorry, Sis. I’m just at my wits’ end. Clutching at straws.’ He shook his head defeatedly as she accompanied him into the hall. ‘You don’t know what I’ve been through.’
Oh, don’t I? Paige asked herself silently, watching Toby walk back to his car with an air of despondency that was almost tangible.
She lay back in her chair, closing her eyes, her body slumped wearily against the cushions as she reviewed what Nick had said regarding company business in the time she’d spent with him.
I should have listened more closely, she thought. Asked more questions. But I had more pressing things on my mind.
Looking back, it was clear Nick had expected her to know about the Seagrove fiasco. Yet instinct told her that wasn’t all of it. That other things were about to come out of the woodwork. And Toby’s flakiness only served to reinforce this suspicion.
What the hell had been going on?
She sighed. Well, tomorrow everything would become brutally clear. And she would have to stand shoulder to shoulder with her family and fight Nick in a battle they might not win.
She’d thought she’d been so clever when she left him at the hotel. But Nick had probably anticipated precisely that. Even allowed it to happen, because he knew that eventually there would be nowhere for her to run. That she would have to face him in some personal Armageddon of his own engineering.
Because he would make it personal. She knew it in every fibre of her being. Tomorrow’s fight would be between the two of them. And his terms were already on the table.
A small, uncontrollable shiver ran through her.
She sat up abruptly. Sitting here brooding was useless, she told herself forcefully. She would unpack, and relax in a hot bath for a while before she made herself some supper. Then an early night seemed sensible. After all, she needed to be rested and strong for the meeting. For the battle.
She picked up her cold coffee and carried it into the kitchen. Later she’d brew herself some herb tea, she decided, emptying the beaker down the sink. Do all the normal, familiar things. Start drawing her life back around her like a security blanket.
As she went back into the hall to retrieve her bag the sound of the front door knocker echoed through the cottage.
Paige groaned inwardly. Toby again, she supposed without pleasure. Passing on more bad news or exercising his powers of persuasion—and both equally unacceptable.
She walked unsmilingly to the door and threw it wide, already rehearsing the words of dismissal. And stopped, her eyes widening in shock and incredulity.
‘So you’re safely home,’ Nick said softly. ‘And now, perhaps, we can have that long overdue conversation. Just the two of us.’
CHAPTER NINE
SHE said hoarsely, ‘What are you doing here? How did you find me?’
His brows lifted. ‘It’s hardly a state secret. Your whereabouts are well documented in the office files.’
Her fingers tightened on the edge of the door. ‘But you never came here before.’
His faint grin was wry. ‘Perhaps I doubted my welcome. Even now it’s hardly overwhelming.’ There was rain glistening on his hair and shoulders. ‘May I come in?’
She hesitated perceptibly, then stood aside, allowing him to enter the hall. She said tautly, ‘Please say what you have to say, then go.’
He tutted reprovingly. ‘I’m sure your family would prefer you to be more hospitable than this, darling. Is that the sitting room?’
He walked past her and stood for a moment, surveying the pale walls and low-beamed ceiling, the seagrass flooring and the two deeply cushioned sofas upholstered in dark blue which faced each other from either side of the stone fireplace with its dog grate.
He said expressionlessly, ‘Very charming.’
‘Please don’t patronise me,’ Paige said stonily. ‘I’m well aware that the whole cottage would fit into a corner of your London house.’ And you make it seem smaller simply by being here.
‘You’ve never been to my London house.’
‘I’ve seen pictures of it.’ Paige cursed herself inwardly for that little piece of self-betrayal.
‘Well,’ he said softly, ‘perhaps you’ll get to know it a little more intimately in the near future.’ He paused. ‘Are you going to ask me to sit down?’
‘If I must.’
He said gently, ‘Let’s get one thing straight, sweetheart. You’re not going to drive me away by behaving like a stroppy little cat. Now, ask me nicely.’
Paige bit her lip. ‘Please—take a seat.’
‘Thank you,’ he said politely, and went to the furthest sofa. He was wearing the usual City gear of dark suit, pristine white shirt and elegant silk tie. He looked cool and in control, and she felt like a physical and mental wreck. She stood watching him, her face set rigidly. Waiting for what was to come.
He looked at the low rosewood table which occupied the space between the sofas and his brows lifted.
‘Dutch courage, Mrs Destry?’
‘I wasn’t aware I needed it.’
He sighed, ‘Paige, there are two glasses, and I’ll lay money that the empty one belongs to your brother. I imagine he’s filled you in on everything that’s been happening while you’ve been disporting yourself in the Caribbean, so you know that all the news is bad.’ He shrugged. ‘Unless you’ve drunk both whiskies yourself, making me just another discredited conspiracy theorist.’
‘A visit from Toby is hardly a conspiracy,’ Paige said coldly. ‘And, yes, he thought I should know about the Seagrove problem, as the press will have to be dealt with. I’ll draft a statement for approval at tomorrow’s meeting.’
‘It’s a kind thought,’ he said. ‘But Craddock Peters PR will be handling the media for Harringtons from now on. You can br
ing your resignation letter to the meeting instead.’
She gasped. ‘You’re—firing me? But you can’t. The rest of the board would never agree. My father persuaded me to take the job in the first place.’
‘And a very cosy little arrangement it’s been.’ Nick’s tone held a sudden harshness. ‘Only it’s over, and I strongly advise you not to make a fuss or sue for unfair dismissal. Let’s not wash any more Harrington dirty linen in public.’
‘Dirty linen—are you crazy?’ Paige shook her head. ‘Is this some kind of punishment for being on vacation when the Seagrove thing blew up? Because I’ll have you know it was my first holiday in two years.’
‘You seem to be forgetting,’ he said gently, ‘the few days we shared in Normandy.’
‘I haven’t forgotten a thing.’
‘I don’t actually care how many holidays you fit into your year,’ he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘As long as you pay for them yourself out of your over-inflated salary and don’t fiddle them as a company expense. As you also charge the mortgage on this little pied-à-terre, incidentally,’ he added grimly. ‘And your furnishing and decorating bills.’
If he’d lifted his arm and struck her to the floor she could not have been more shocked. Or bewildered. Or seethingly angry.
Her fists clenched involuntarily at her sides as words of furious denial began to form in her brain. She was earning only two-thirds of her previous salary at Harringtons, and the mortgage ate a big chunk of it. She’d painted the cottage herself at weekends, and bought the main pieces of furniture out of her savings—although her father had given her a few items from the Hall too.
And but for Angie’s generosity, she thought wildly, she’d never have gone anywhere near the Caribbean.
And so she would tell him, at the top of her voice, with no expletives deleted.
Except…
Suddenly the burning, strident anger bubbling to her lips was giving way to concern—even fear. And the voice in her head was telling her to slow down and proceed with caution, because there was something terribly wrong here.