'I'll be flying to New York at the beginning of next week.' He sounded so uncaring and so casual that Jassy could not bear it.
'For how long?' she asked, stubbing out her cigarette with suddenly trembling fingers, hoping that she did not sound like a nagging, possessive wife. What a joke! Hysteria bubbled up inside her at the shock of his news.
'A couple of weeks, maybe longer. I'm not sure,' he answered carelessly, as if the subject bored him. Ask me to go with you, Jassy. silently pleaded, but no such invitation was forthcoming. He was probably only going to get away from her, she thought wildly.
The sky was tinged with ominous green, the atmosphere vaguely heavy and threatening. Jassy wound down her window, needing some fresh air. 'It's very close, do you think there'll be a thunderstorm?' she asked brightly.
Max's hands clenched on the steering wheel. He turned his head to look at her and she was shocked by the violence in his eyes.
'More than likely,' he grated, controlling his temper with obvious difficulty.
Jassy stared at him, wondering what was wrong, but not enquiring, in case she brought his wrath down on her head.
The rest of the journey was completed in silence, and Jassy breathed in the polluted fumes of London with distaste, after the pure clean air at Oakdene.
They were going to a party organised by one of Max's business associates. Jassy had been curious about his decision to attend; he usually avoided such social gatherings like the plague, considering them dreary and hypocritical, but she had not asked him why, when he had announced that they would be going.
The Mercedes drew to a silent halt outside the foyer of the smart hotel where the party was being held. Max's hand slid possessively to Jassy's elbow as they entered the hotel. He was behaving like the perfect husband, she thought bitterly, his eyes warm and frankly charming as he bent his dark head to catch something that she said.
He waited for her while she deposited her wrap, tidied her hair and checked her make-up, then kept her close to him, his arm coiled protectively around her shoulders.
She looked around the room, sipping the white wine Max had fetched for her. She knew nobody here. Max introduced her to people who strolled up to talk to him and she reacted politely, smiling as she murmured charming banalities.
It struck her once again just how powerful and respected .Max was in business circles. Hard, ruthless-looking businessmen seemed to be falling over themselves to impress him—very subtly, of course, but Jassy was well aware of the undertones in their conversations. She had attended too many similar parties with Morgan not to know what was going on.
She was idly glancing at an interesting-looking painting near the door when a man entered who she knew. She stiffened, her face becoming pale and fearful. It was Rene Moreau, with a sleek, dark-haired beauty hanging on his arm.
Max felt the sudden tenseness in her, his eyes following hers. 'Ah, your friend Rene Moreau,' he said softly, not sounding at all surprised.
'He's not my friend,' Jassy said weakly. Then a thought struck her. 'Did you know he'd be here?' she asked, staring boldly into the shadowed depths of his green eyes.
'Of course. I knew exactly who would be here,' he said smoothly.
'You could have warned me,' Jassy mumbled.
'Warned you? Why should I need to warn you? You're my wife, Moreau can't touch you now.'
Jassy was irritated by the smug arrogance in his voice. 'I didn't want to see him again,' she retorted petulantly.
Max stared at her. 'You don't have to talk to him unless you want to,' he said patiently, his eyes suddenly gentle and understanding.
'Thanks!' Jassy snapped, not convinced. Then suddenly she took his arm, clinging to him in panic. 'Max—Morgan won't be here, will he?' she whispered desperately.
His eyes darkened as he looked down at her, his fingers touching her face very softly. 'I wouldn't do that to you, Jassy—you should know that.' He was speaking the truth and she swayed against him, weak with relief.
'Yes, I do. It was the shock of seeing Rene. . . .' She was asking for his understanding, his forgiveness for doubting him, and was rewarded with a warm fleeting smile that took her breath away.
Bumping into Rene was unavoidable at such a small party, and with Max's help, she prepared herself mentally, not knowing what Rene's reaction would be when he finally did spot her. Their last meeting had been so bitter and angry that she did not know what to expect, and consequently felt a little scared.
Half an hour later, she had been visiting the ladies' room, and was on her way back downstairs to join Max, when she noticed Rene standing at the bottom of the stairs. His obvious air of impatience told her that he was waiting for his companion, whom Jassy had bumped into briefly in the powder room. Feeling a little nervous, she did not falter, but held her delicate chin high as they came face to face.
'Jassy!' His thin face wa,s wreathed in smiles, and judging by the spirit she could smell on his breath, she concluded that he had had more than a little to drink. 'I had no idea you were here tonight, cherie,
it's good to see you—you look wonderful!'
Jassy smiled coolly, stiffening slightly as he leaned forward to kiss both her cheeks in the Gallic tradition. 'Is it? Good to see me again, I mean,' she asked, seeing his puzzled face.
'Ah ' Recollection dawned in his eyes. 'Our last meeting. I behaved unforgivably—I don't know what to say.'
He seemed genuinely regretful, but Jassy was still sceptical as she watched him raising his hands in a gesture of despair.
'I presume you've got over me, then,' she said drily.
Rene laughed, his face a little flushed. 'I have my pride and you gave it quite a beating,' he said, as arrogant as ever.
Jassy smiled. 'Somebody needed to,' she said sarcastically. 'You seem very happy anyway, despite your hurt pride. By the way, who is that beautiful lady you're with?' She was silently congratulating herself as she asked. It had been foolish, as Max had said, to fear this meeting. She should not have forgotten how shallow Rene was, she could cope with him easily.
'Ariane? We are engaged. She is beautiful, is she not?' He was obviously well pleased with this sudden engagement.
'Yes, she is beautiful—and I assume her father is rich,' Jassy said without malice.
Rene had the grace to look a little crestfallen. 'I love her,' he said in his usual over-dramatic fashion.
'Oh, I'm sorry—her father isn't rich?' Her face was innocent as she spoke.
Rene smiled. 'But of course he is.' Jassy pitied Ariane, wondering if she had seen the hard, sullen side of Rene yet. God help her when she did. 'Marriage would be out of the question, otherwise,'
Rene added, making it sound like a matter of fact.
'Have you seen Morgan?' she questioned, at last plucking up the courage to ask.
Rene thought for a second. 'I believe he's in Munich at the moment. He's just pulled off a multi-million dollar deal there. I saw him a fortnight ago— he was very well, as you can imagine.'
'He's happy?' Jassy persisted.
'Did you think he would break up because you walked out on him?' Rene asked shrewdly.
'No, of course not, I just wondered how he was.' The conversation was beginning to depress her. Why couldn't Rene answer a simple question? she wondered irritably. She did not need or welcome his opinion on her relationship with Morgan.
'You can rest easy, cherie. Morgan is fine. Although you did treat him very badly, you know,' he could not resist adding.
Jassy glared at him impotently. 'That's none of your business, it was between Morgan and myself,' she said, controlling her temper with difficulty.
Rene regarded her with careless amusement. 'They say the truth always hurts,' he said, with a small smile
'You really are a swine,' Jassy said coldly. He was totally insensitive and cruel.
'What have I done?' he asked, surprised by her vehement remark.
Jassy fumed inwardly at his innocent pretence. What had he done? The list wa
s endless? Although looking at him now, she could quite well believe that he did not know. It was time he found out!
'You've ruined my marriage for a start.' I wish to God that you'd never told me about the shares. But more than anything I wish you'd never told me that Max knew about them,' she snapped, her voice weary with bitterness. 'There are things better left unsaid, but you prefer to hit below the belt, don't you? And all for the sake of your pride! Well, I hope you're pleased with yourself—Max and I are finished, because of you!'
This was not strictly true, but something in Rene's ruthless behaviour, his lack of regret for the bad things he did, had triggered off all Jassy's pent-up hurt and anger, and she wanted him to know exactly how much damage he had caused.
She turned away from him, only wanting to be back with Max, but Rene caught her arm, detaining her. 'What are you talking about?' he asked, frowning as he stared at her.
She shrugged out of his grasp. 'You know very well what I'm talking about. You came to my hotel the day I got married, or has that slipped your mind?' she said acidly. She was too angry to notice the curious looks they were receiving from people going up and down the stairs.
'I remember,' Rene said brusquely. 'And Bellmer knows about the shares? You told him?'
Jassy read the shock in his eyes with surprise and impatience. He must have had more to drink than she thought. 'I didn't have to, he already knew— you told me he did,' she snapped miserably.
'I was very angry that morning,' Rene said slowly, shaking his head. 'Very angry. But there are only three people who know about those shares—Morgan, you and myself.'
'And Max,' Jassy added.
'No. Unless you have told him, he does not know.' Rene was emphatic.
Jassy put her hand over her eyes. 'I don't believe you,' she said slowly as the implications of what Rene had revealed sank in.
'Jassy.' Rene took her hand and pulled it away from her eyes. His expression was sincere and worried. 'You must listen. I don't remember what I said that morning, I was mad with anger, and despite what you think, I do care for you, cherie, I've always cared for you. I swear to you that Bellmer did not know about the shares. Do you think Morgan would have let that information leak out? He only told me because he thought the wedding was set up. You did not even know yourself.'
'Why are you telling me all this now?' she asked painfully. 'When it's too late.'
'There used to be an affection between us, cherie— oh yes, I know what you think of me, and you're probably right. I am what Papa wanted me to be.' He shrugged. 'It suits me fine. But I did not mean to hurt you Jassy, ever.'
She stared into his face, glimpsing the old Rene she had known and liked, and she believed him, even though she could not forgive him. 'Thank you for telling me the truth. Better late than never, I suppose,' she laughed, high and brittle. 'Congratulations on your engagement. Goodbye, Rene.'
'Jassy ' He tried to detain her again, but she
walked away, swiftly, back into the noise of the party, feeling worse than she had ever done in her life.
'Where have you been? I missed you.' Max's low, easy drawl hardly penetrated her thoughts, as she got to his side. 'Talking with Rene,' she answered automatically, her voice deadly.
Max stared down at her probingly. 'He's upset you?' It was more of an angry statement than a question.
Jassy shook her head, looking him straight in the eye. She had to know the truth.
'Do you know that I own shares in Morgan's company?' she asked, carefully searching his lean, beautiful face for signs of deceit. There were none.
'Good for you,' he answered uncaringly. 'Jassy, has Moreau upset you?'
He did not know, he had never known, but most of all, he did not care! Her eyes filled with tears as bright as the diamonds at her throat.
Max saw them, and his body tensed with anger. 'That bastard—I'll kill him!' he grated brutally, his eyes searching the room for Rene.
'Max——' She laid her hand on his arm, feeling the hard, clenched muscles beneath the expensive material. 'Please take me home now, please!' she begged, with her heart in her eyes.
He took one look at her and agreed. 'Okay, Jassy, we'll go now.'
They drove back to Oakdene in silence. Max attempted conversation, but Jassy could not answer him, however hard she tried. She glanced at him covertly, his hard profile unreadable in the darkness, the muscle twitching in his jaw the only indication of his anger. She was appalled at the extent to which she had misjudged him. The coldness and the cruelty she had shown him because of this misjudgment had surely killed any affection he might have felt for her. She had gone too far, and he would never love her now.
If she was pregnant, she would leave him without ever letting him know that she was carrying his child. He deserved to be free of her, free to find a woman he could love. The thought of another woman sharing his life, his love, was unbearable to her, but she had to face it. He had married her because he desired her, because she needed help, and she had learned over the past month how kind and caring he was. For her part, she had thrown that kindness back in his face, denying him her body when she had longed to give it to him.
She only hoped her deep love for him would make her unselfish and help her to give him up.
The car was suddenly lit up by a jagged fork of lightening ripping open the sky. Jassy looked up in surprise. They were pulling through the gates of Oakdene, home already. She flinched at her own thoughts. Oakdene was no longer her home, she must remember that.
By the time the black Mercedes had pulled up at the front door, the rain had started, pelting the car roof like drumbeats. Max switched off the engine, and turned to her.
'You look exhausted,' he said with a gentle smile.
'It's been a tiring evening,'Jassy replied noncommittally, not meeting his eye.
'I'll make you some hot milk, you look as if you could do with a good night's sleep,' he said, searching her pale, anguished face with concerned eyes. His kindness hurt her more than any physical blow.
'Why are you so kind?' she asked desperately.
Max frowned. 'I've only offered to boil some milk,' he replied drily.
The rain was driving down even harder now, accompanied by deafening claps of thunder and blinding streaks of lightning. Max opened the car door. 'Wait here. I'll open the front door and bring you an umbrella. You're hardly dressed for this.' He slid out of the car, his jacket soaked through before he reached the house.
Jassy watched him go in agony, tears rolling unheeded down her cheeks. It hurt too much to be with him and, obeying her deepest instincts, she slid out of the car and began to run, urtcaring of the rain that soaked her to the skin in seconds.
She headed for the trees around the house, where she would be unseen. She had only just reached cover when she heard Max calling her. Ignoring him, she ran on desperately, knowing exactly where she was going. They had been riding together at the weekend and had passed a deserted pavilion near the river. Max had explained that it was due for demolition, after being empty and unused for years. Jassy had been fascinated by its deserted air, the neglected rotten wood of its intricate facade, promising herself that she would return at a later date and paint it.
It took her twenty minutes to reach the pavilion, by which time she was absolutely soaked through, the brown velvet of her dress sodden and heavy with rainwater, and splattered with mud. Cold and shivering with pain and reaction, still tearful, she pushed open the old rotten door which gave easily against her weight, and stepped inside.
It was pitch-black, but at least it was shelter and she was out of the rain. She sank to her knees, giving herself up to the sobs that were racking her body. When at last she could think coherently again, she shifted herself into a more comfortable position on the cold floor, and considered what she would do.
She had been hurt and hysterical when she ran from the car, not thinking, but answering her deep need to get away from Max. Would he be worried? She doubted it. No, that was unfai
r, he would be concerned for anybody out on a night such as this.
She lit a cigarette from her bag and decided what to do. She would stay here until morning. She had a little money with her, perhaps she would go to Roxanne for help, or Lavender. She would sort something out, because she knew one thing for certain. She could not face Max.
CHAPTER TEN
SHE was dreaming as she dozed uncomfortably. A dark, blurred form was chasing her through equally dark, sinister streets. She could not get away, her feet were heavy and difficult to move, the ground like quicksand, the black, menacing figure catching up with her. She could not see his face, even though the eerie yellow light fell clearly on his moving shape. He was getting nearer and nearer. . . . She woke with a scream, shivering uncontrollably, not knowing where she was, and wondering why she could not see. Of course, she was in the pavilion by the river; she must have fallen asleep.
The rain had still not stopped, it was pelting against the building, and there was another noise. Jassy held her breath, straining her ears to hear. Footsteps coming towards the door—that was the noise. She froze in panic, her heart racing, deafening her, totally paralysed as the door groaned open and the slow footsteps came nearer. A beam of torchlight touched the wall behind ler, and she shrank into herself, speechless with fear.
Jassy, are you in here?' Max's voice, strained and urgent, came to her ears, and she let out the breath she had been holding for so long, on a long moan of pure, shaking relief.
The torchlight caught her, blinding her for a moment, then Max was at her side, swearing long and hard beneath his breath, as he looked down at her, a lost and lovely child in the dim light.
'What the hell are you doing here?' he asked furiously. 'I've been out of my mind with worry!'
Jassy did not answer, could not have answered to save her life. Still swearing, Max reached down and touched her wet cheek. It was ice cold. He bent with fluid, athletic grace and lifted her effortlessly into his arms, and leaving the pavilion, carried her back to the house.
Jassy lay limply in his arms, her head bent to his shoulder, her arms around his neck. 'What time is it?' she roused herself sufficiently to ask.
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