White Rivers

by White Rivers (retail) (epub)

  And you’re the most short-sighted fool in the world, if you believe all that, thought Skye.

  ‘So you think I should agree then.’

  ‘Of course. Anyway, I’d trust you to do nothing untoward, even if I didn’t trust him. You’re a wife and mother, and a sensible matron now, my dear.’

  She was incensed by his condescending words. She might be a wife and mother, but that didn’t turn her into a drab. Her mirror told her exactly the opposite. She had inherited the Tremayne beauty and colouring, and her shape was still voluptuous enough to attract admiring glances wherever she went. It was only Philip who couldn’t seem to see it any more.

  She went straight to the telephone before she could change her mind, and called Nick at home.

  ‘Please go ahead and make all the arrangements, and let me know the details.’ She didn’t elaborate, knowing there was no need to do so.

  ‘Right,’ he said briskly, allowing no emotion to colour his voice. ‘I’ll contact Dr Rainley and The Laurels first thing tomorrow morning, and I’ll be in touch as soon as everything’s confirmed.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Skye replaced the receiver, not wanting to prolong the conversation, and knowing that for good or ill, she was going to spend three days and two nights with the man she was growing far more attracted to than she had any right to be.

  Chapter Eleven

  For someone who was so content with her lot now, Vera was openly envious when she heard about Skye’s forthcoming trip.

  ‘What are you planning to take with you?’

  ‘What do you mean? What should I be taking?’ Skye said, not quite following her cousin’s line of questioning.

  ‘Well, clothes, of course. I’ve never been to Bristol, but it’s a fashionable city, by all accounts.’

  ‘Vera, you know very well I’m going to view a rest and care home for Uncle Albie, not going there to fritter my time away. This isn’t a pleasure trip.’

  Her cousin pulled a face. ‘Oh, I know all that, of course, and I’m sorry if I sounded uncaring. But neither Lily nor I had much time for creepy old Uncle Albie, if you must know. And you’re not going to spend all your time looking around a musty old house, are you?’ She gave a mischievous grin. ‘I envy you Nick’s company too. Not that I’d exchange him with Adam, but Nick’s going to be quite a catch for somebody. You’ll both turn folks’ heads.’

  ‘I doubt that such a thing has occurred to him, and it certainly hasn’t to me!’ Skye said dismissively, ignoring the quickening of her pulse at Vera’s words.

  ‘Oh Skye, sometimes I could shake you! You were always so spirited and daring, and the envy of us all. I don’t know what’s happened to you lately. You’ve become – well, I certainly wouldn’t say matronly in appearance, but in outlook, just a little, darling. Truly.’

  Skye was startled as Vera echoed Philip’s exact word, even if it wasn’t in the same context. Or maybe it was. Had she become matronly in her outlook? She certainly wasn’t ready for that label yet, and if it were so, then she must rectify it immediately.

  ‘So in order to redeem myself in your so worldly eyes, what clothes would you suggest I take for this pleasure trip that isn’t a pleasure trip?’ she demanded of Vera. She saw the other girl’s eyes become dreamy.

  ‘Well, I know it isn’t a honeymoon…’

  ‘For glory’s sake, it’s anything but that!’

  Vera’s face went a violent pink. ‘Oh Lord, you know I didn’t mean that at all. But I dare say you’ll be staying in a swanky hotel, where folk dress up for dinner and suchlike,’ she said, the words tumbling out in an embarrassed rush. ‘You and Nick are both so elegant, and you’ll make quite a dash in the dining-room, so you must take a couple of special outfits, like the one you wore to my wedding.’

  As Vera paused for breath, a swift memory of Nick Pengelly’s eyes widening as they met hers in the church, soared into Skye’s mind. That scintillating instant when she knew that for good or ill, here was someone special… She abandoned the thought angrily.

  ‘That outfit would be far too grand.’

  ‘No it wouldn’t,’ Vera insisted. ‘You looked so beautiful in that colour, Skye, no matter what my mother said.’

  ‘You mean about green being unlucky?’ Skye said, starting to smile. ‘I don’t believe any of that nonsense, anyway.’

  ‘Then take it with you. Have you worn it since?’

  She hadn’t. There hadn’t been a suitable occasion – and this certainly wasn’t it. She wasn’t going to Bristol to make a poppy-show of herself, nor to impress Nick Pengelly, she thought defiantly.

  But when the appointed day arrived, both the shimmering shot silk outfit, and her favourite bronze silk evening frock, were placed carefully inside folds of tissue paper in Skye’s small suitcase. It was only for the reason Vera had implied, she told herself. She wouldn’t want to let Nick down in any fashionable establishment by appearing the country bumpkin. She couldn’t deny, though, that she was nervous, and the further the train took them on the long journey away from Cornwall, the more she asked herself just how wise she had been to agree to this. To her relief, Nick’s attitude during those long hours of travelling was businesslike and professional, and it was only as they neared their destination that he smiled with any real warmth.

  ‘Do you know you’ve hardly said a word for the last half an hour or so?’ he remarked.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been admiring the changing countryside, and also feeling a little sad at how far away from home Uncle Albie will be. I didn’t mean to be rude.’

  ‘You weren’t. Anyway, I doubt that Albert will be too bothered where he is, so don’t look so edgy. I’m not going to eat you, Skye, so please try to relax.’

  She felt her face go hot. ‘Do I seem so much of a country hick to you? If you understand what I mean?’

  He laughed. ‘Of course I do, and I’m fascinated by your transatlantic vocabulary. Don’t ever lose it. And no one could ever take you for anything but a beautiful and sophisticated woman. William will love you.’

  She stared at him suspiciously, knowing he referred to his ex-partner. ‘I’m hardly likely to meet him, am I? I assumed that while you had your meeting with him, I would take a look around the city by myself.’

  ‘Oh, did I forget to mention that he’s arranged a small dinner party on Friday evening, and that we’re invited?’

  ‘You certainly did forget to mention it! How long has this been planned?’

  It was ludicrous to feel angry and upset, though it wasn’t simply on account of being invited to a dinner party. She wasn’t exactly a recluse, and would normally look forward to it immensely. It was the fact that she was being manoeuvred again, and that he was doing the manoeuvring.

  ‘Why don’t you trust me, Skye?’ Nick said at last, ignoring her question, and reaching out his hand to cover hers for a moment.

  She looked at him helplessly. He must know the answer to that. He must know she was dangerously close to falling in love with him, or could be, if she once let herself forget that she was a married woman with three children. A wife and a mother and a matron, for God’s sake… As the word filled her head she tilted her chin up high. Did she have a mind of her own, or not! It was up to her whether or not she let this man come within one breath of her senses…

  ‘Of course I trust you,’ she said. ‘You’re my lawyer, aren’t you? With a reputation to protect.’

  ‘Touché,’ he said softly, and then the train was steaming into Bristol’s Temple Meads station, and there was no more time for talking in the general mêlée of alighting and hailing a taxicab outside the grand edifice of one of Brunel’s engineering masterpieces.

  ‘The Georgian Hotel,’ Nick told the taxi driver who was already putting their suitcases inside the boot of the car. And within minutes they had left the railway station and were merging into the hustle and bustle of the city’s trams and motor cars and drays, and there was no turning back.

  Skye couldn’t h
ave said why that particular phrase entered her head, but once it had, in an odd way she found it easier to relax than at any time during the day. There was little point in doing otherwise now.

  So she was here with Nick. They were staying for two nights, and they would oversee the home where Uncle Albie would live out his days. And tomorrow evening there would be a dinner party, and in her suitcase was the glittering shot silk ensemble that Nick had so admired at Vera and Adam’s wedding.

  Even then, all her womanly instincts had told her it was far more than mere admiration. His eyes had told her how beautiful and desirable she was to him, just as his words had told her since then. And despite all her misgivings, the tingling excitement filling her veins now was something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  Her own fatalistic thoughts filled her head once more. There was indeed no turning back now. Primmy and Morwen would have echoed the sentiments. Tremayne women believed in fate.

  Skye looked away from Nick before he could read what was in her heart. She tried to concentrate on what she could see of the city, knowing the children would want to hear all about it when she returned home. She was enchanted by it already, so vibrant and alive, from its bustling heart around the river, where tall ships still vied for position with busy little river tugs, to the soaring green Downs above.

  She knew this had always been an important seafaring port, from the days of the infamous slave trade to the commercial exports of the day. But what made her draw in her breath was the sight of the beautiful, slender span of the Clifton Suspension Bridge, the second of Brunel’s great Bristol marvels.

  ‘I never imagined it would be like this! It’s so exciting a city, and yet in a way so terribly sad.’

  ‘Sad?’ Nick said, not understanding.

  ‘For Uncle Albie,’ she replied, more soberly. ‘He would have loved to paint all this, and now he’ll appreciate none of it.’

  ‘But if it wasn’t for his state of health he wouldn’t be here at all. You can’t have it all, darling. None of us can.’

  She wouldn’t comment at his endearment. Nor the unbidden thought that entered her head that they couldn’t have it all either. They could only have these few precious days that would be as fragile in the great scheme of their lives as a loose leaf torn out of a book.

  ‘The Georgian Hotel’s just ahead of us now, sir.’ The broadly spoken driver swivelled his head back towards them, his gaze fully approving of the goddess-like vision in his taxicab. ‘If you and your lady wife will go along inside, I’ll bring in the bags for ’ee both.’

  Nick’s hand on her arm prevented Skye from making the light observation that she wasn’t his lady wife. What did it matter what he thought? They would never see him again.

  She looked instead at the impressive hotel where the cab was drawing up. It was grand all right, and Vera had been quite right to advise her to take suitable attire. And at last she accepted how lovely it would be to dress up in her finery and enjoy herself for a few days, with no cares on her mind of the clayworks or the pottery; no worries about the children or of Philip’s black moods. She could just be herself.

  When Nick had registered for them both, a young lad in the hotel uniform of plain trousers, green striped waistcoat and matching striped pillbox hat, jumped to attention and carried their luggage up the curving staircase to the adjoining rooms on the second floor. A few minutes later, Nick tapped at Skye’s door, and she flew to let him in.

  ‘Is everything all right, my lady?’ he enquired with a smile.

  ‘It’s very much all right! I even have my own bathroom – and have you seen the wonderful view from the window, Nick?’

  He followed her across the room. The hotel was perched above the dizzying heights of the Avon Gorge, and far below them they could see the winding, sluggish waters of the river as the tide receded into the Bristol Channel.

  ‘It’s spectacular,’ he agreed. ‘And so are you.’

  ‘Please don’t say such things,’ she replied quickly. ‘You promised.’

  ‘And when was paying a compliment to a lovely woman so very wrong?’ As she felt his hands on her shoulders, she tensed slightly, but he didn’t move away. ‘Your husband should be proud of a wife who can cope with whatever life throws at her, Skye. That’s just one of the reasons why I think you’re a very special woman.’

  She shouldn’t ask. She knew she shouldn’t ask…

  ‘One of the reasons? You mean there are others?’

  He laughed, dropping his hands from her shoulders and turning away from her. ‘Plenty, but you’re not going to tempt me into saying them now, or it will take for ever. I’ll send down for some tea to be sent to both our rooms while we unpack, and then I intend to take a bath. I have my own bathroom too. It’s one of the luxuries we pay for in this hotel. Later, we could take a short stroll around the Downs before we change for dinner this evening. How does that sound to you?’

  ‘It sounds perfect,’ she said, half relieved that she was going to have some time alone, half annoyed that he hadn’t continued the provocative conversation she had begun. ‘And when are you going to see your ex-partner?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning. If you wish, I’ll order a taxicab to take you shopping or sightseeing. In the afternoon we’ll visit The Laurels, which is very near here, and once we’ve satisfied ourselves that it’s the right place for your uncle, our business will be officially over. We can enjoy William’s dinner party with a clear conscience.’

  She avoided his eyes, knowing that the feelings inside her involved anything but a clear conscience. They were alone together in a hotel – disregarding all the other guests – and once their business tomorrow was over, they were free to enjoy themselves. And before that, there was tonight…

  Skye shivered as he left her. She had never intended to let these few days become a liaison, and nor had she ever betrayed Philip – except in her thoughts and dreams, her guilty conscience reminded her. But the thought that occurred to her more and more often was, would Philip even care? He was so wrapped up in himself and his students lately that she seemed no more than an appendage in his life. But she had a life too, and it had become singularly empty without the fulfilment of her husband’s love. She was restless, frustrated, and probably a ready target for an unscrupulous man who intended to seduce her.

  She flinched visibly, knowing she would never accuse Nick Pengelly of being such a man. Any seduction that occurred would be one of mutual desire and longing… All her nerves were on edge again, and her hands were damp as she answered the door and let the maid inside with her tray of tea and biscuits.

  ‘The gennulman in room 204 said he’d see ’ee in half an hour, ma’am, so would you like me to run ’ee a bath while you drink your tea?’ the girl asked, her accent as broad as the taxi driver’s.

  ‘Yes please,’ Skye said quickly, glad to be diverted from her own wayward thoughts. A bath would be wonderful, to wash away the grime of travelling, and to get her thoughts properly organised again, and away from the dangerous direction they were leading her.

  Later, to her relief, she discovered that Nick was decorum itself. She needn’t have worried. As they strolled around the heady greenness of the Downs, high above the city, he tucked her hand inside the crook of his arm in a friendly, but not too familiar way. They might have been brother and sister… as Albert and Primmy had been…

  They walked for a long time, while she admired the steep sides of the Avon Gorge, and the glimpse of the ships docked further along the river, so miniaturised from this height. On the opposite side of the Gorge from the Downs was a vast stretch of dense woodland, in stark contrast to the elegant buildings on the Bristol side.

  As they turned away from the stomach-churning height and began to walk along one of the winding roads that circumvented the Downs, Nick pointed some distance ahead.

  ‘You see that large building set well back from the road?’ he said. ‘That’s The Laurels.’

  ‘What!’ Skye exclaimed. ‘I imagi
ned we’d have to travel some distance.’

  ‘Not at all. It seemed a good idea to stay in a hotel within walking distance, and my ex-partner recommended the Georgian as being very comfortable. This part of the city is an acknowledged healthy area, well away from the industrial heart and the stench of the river – which I’m told can get pretty strong in the summer.’

  She wondered if he was saying all this to calm her. They were so close to Uncle Albie’s new home. They could go there now and be done with it all… they could go home tomorrow… As if sensing her thoughts, his arm squeezed hers.

  ‘It’s too late to visit The Laurels today, Skye. The staff don’t welcome visitors without appointments, and the place where a man will end his days deserves proper consideration, don’t you think?’

  ‘Of course I do.’ She wasn’t sure if he meant to censure her, but she was mildly irritated by the words. Of course she would want to see that all was well. ‘Can we go back to the hotel now, please? I’m feeling chilled.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m not having much consideration now, am I?’

  But she sensed that he was. He must know how jittery she was feeling, and not only about Uncle Albie. But she had also given him the impression that she was some feeble little female who couldn’t walk ten steps without complaining… and for a woman who had once been in the thick of wartime hostilities in France, the idea was ludicrous.

  ‘Thank God I’ve said something to make you smile – though I’m not sure what it was,’ she heard him say. ‘You’ve been very un-Skye-like for the past hour.’

  ‘Really?’ She looked up at him defiantly. ‘I doubt that you have any idea what the real Skye is like!’

  ‘But I’d like to, very much,’ he said softly, which made her instantly mute again, pursing her lips and turning away from his gaze. Like a frightened virgin; the phrase slid into her mind again.