by Mary Lyons
Built in Regency times and carefully preserved by the efforts of the town council, the Assembly Rooms had originally been designed to cater for local meetings, dances and parties—providing a much-needed, central venue for a sparsely populated and rural area. However, as she gazed around the elegant room, filled with so many of her old friends and acquaintances, Amber realised that she and the other local inhabitants of the town were fortunate to still have the use of such a lovely old building.
‘The party appears to be going well,’ Philip said as he placed a fresh glass of wine in her hand. ‘Everyone seems determined to press ahead with strong opposition to the new marina.’
‘But it’s going to be difficult to save the Tide Mill,’ she sighed. ‘Especially since the developers have already been given planning permission to pull it down.’
‘Well, with snow forecast for the weekend, I don’t reckon there will be much building work taking place—not until the new year, at least,’ he pointed out. ‘I just wish that I could say the same for my own profession. Unfortunately, this is by far my busiest time of the year.’
Amber looked at him with concern. ‘I know you’ve been very busy this week. Are you on call again tonight?’
‘I’m afraid so.’ The young doctor gave her a tired grin. ‘However, let’s hope that all my patients stay well and healthy—for the duration of this party, at least! Incidentally, have I told you about the plans for my new surgery? I’m really very excited about the layout, and...’
But as Philip continued to expand on his architect’s ideas for the new building, Amber suddenly stiffened, her green eyes widening in shock as the crowd of people parted for a moment, and she caught a glimpse of the tall, dark figure of a man standing across the room.
Max...? What on earth was he doing here? she asked herself, suddenly feeling panic-stricken as she watched his hard, determined features relaxing into a courteous smile as he turned to shake someone’s hand.
How could she have been so stupid? She might have known that it was useless to try and avoid his baleful presence. But when she’d taken refuge in the kitchen garden—leaving Max to continue looking over a house which she was certain he had no intention of buying—she still hadn’t been entirely convinced that he was seriously intending to stay at Elmbridge Hall. He had, after all, only returned to the town in order to see Lucy. And once he’d discovered that she wasn’t due to return until tomorrow, surely Max would prefer the more convivial, lively atmosphere to be found in one of the small local hotels.
A bout of hard digging in the kitchen garden had, as always, helped to soothe her battered spirits. Although she’d eventually been driven back inside by a light snowfall and the gathering darkness, Amber had felt able to view the day’s sequence of events in a slightly calmer frame of mind than when she’d first stormed out of the house.
It was, of course, no good trying to fudge the issue: she’d been a perfect idiot. Not only had she been guilty of underestimating Max’s sheer ruthlessness, but also totally stupid to have allowed herself to be alone with him. Why hadn’t she remembered that a leopard never changes his spots? That even as a teenager, he’d been like the awful nursery-rhyme character, Georgie-Porgie, ‘who kissed the girls and made them cry’? Just about a perfect description of Max Warner—the root cause of so many tears and so much unhappiness in her life. But never, never again, Amber had grimly promised herself, returning to the house full of good intentions and firm resolve.
Pleased to discover that both Max and his car had disappeared, she knew that she hadn’t seen the last of him—especially as he had yet to state his intentions regarding Lucy. However, when he still hadn’t returned by the time she’d prepared an early supper for her mother, and Philip Jackson had arrived to give her a lift to the party, Amber had allowed her-self to hope that he might even have decided to go back to London.
Fat chance! she told herself, staring glumly down at her glass. Goodness knows, she hadn’t really wanted to come here tonight. But it had seemed important, if only for Lucy’s sake, to try and appear to be behaving as normally as possible.
Attempting to pull herself together and concentrate on Philip’s remarks about the plans for his new surgery, she heard the pager, which the doctor always carried in the top pocket of his jacket, give a sharp, high-pitched ‘bleep’.
‘I thought it was too good to last,’ he told her ruefully, bending down to give her a quick peck on the cheek before hurrying off across the room in search of a telephone.
Sipping her wine and hoping that Philip wouldn’t be long, Amber was startled when a hard, familiar voice spoke from behind her shoulder.
‘Has the good doctor left you all alone? What a shame.’
Spinning around, she glared up at Max, who was grinning wolfishly down at her.
‘He happens to be on call tonight,’ she snapped before realising that Max must have been doing his homework. How else would he have known that Philip was a doctor? ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded. ‘I can’t believe you’re interested in what happens to the old Tide Mill?’
‘Oh, I’m interested in all sorts of things,’ he drawled. ‘For instance, I’m looking forward to seeing how much the town has changed, meeting old friends and acquaintances, seeing Lucy...’
‘I’m not prepared to talk about my daughter—certainly not here!’ she retorted, glancing nervously around to see if anyone else had heard what he was saying.
‘Our daughter,’ he corrected smoothly.
‘OK...OK!’ she muttered, feeling almost sick with tension. Didn’t Max know or care about the torture he was putting her through?
‘You’re quite right. This is neither the time nor the place for that sort of discussion,’ he murmured, pausing for a moment as a waiter topped up their glasses. ‘So...maybe we could discuss our own relationship instead?’
‘What “relationship”?’ she ground out through clenched teeth. ‘As far as I’m concerned, we have absolutely nothing in common—except a very brief, unfortunate episode in the past. So, why don’t you leave me alone? Go off and play your rotten games with someone else. And there’s just the perfect companion for you,’ she added grimly, nodding her head towards a noisy group of men, surrounding a beautifully dressed, glamorous ash-blonde woman. ‘I hear that your old flame, Cynthia Henderson, can’t wait to meet you again. And since everyone knows that Cynthia can never resist a man with a large bank balance, I’m sure she’ll welcome you with open arms!’ Amber taunted, not caring if she was sounding like a first-class bitch in her determination to hit back at him.
‘Well, it certainly looks as if it’s my lucky day, doesn’t it?’ he drawled sardonically. ‘Because I thought that your arms seemed remarkably welcoming this afternoon.’
‘Oh, shut up!’ she snapped, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and the realisation that she could never seem to get the better of this indomitable man.
Luckily, she was rescued from having to say anything more by the approach of Sally’s husband, John Fraser.
‘Hello, Amber, you’re looking as lovely as ever,’ the lawyer smiled at her. ‘I’m sorry to be a nuisance, but I wonder if I could just have a quick word with Max? There are one or two people who would like to meet him, and...’
‘Sure,’ Max agreed quickly, promising to return in a moment, before following the lawyer back across the room.
Fervently hoping that she’d seen the last of Max, at least for this evening, Amber realised that she had a problem. However much she might want to leave this party as soon as possible, she had no way of getting home. With her old Land Rover in the local garage, and Philip busy with his sick patients, she was well and truly stuck. Desperately trying to find a solution to her dilemma, she was surprised to see Cynthia Henderson gliding purposefully across the floor towards her.
By far the most grown-up and attractive girl at school, Cynthia had managed to avoid the dire fate that—according to her teachers and the mothers of the other pupils in the class—lay in
wait for such a boy-mad, sexually promiscuous teenager. Cynthia had, in fact, matured into a very glamorous and distractingly beautiful woman. Marrying and discarding at least two husbands along the way, she was now the owner of a very expensive boutique in the centre of town.
‘Been abandoned, have you?’ Cynthia drawled as she came nearer. ‘Men really are the pits, aren’t they?’ she added, lighting a cigarette and casually blowing smoke in the other girl’s face.
‘You may have a point there,’ Amber agreed grimly, raising a hand to fan the fumes from her eyes.
‘Of course I do, sweetie,’ Cynthia murmured, her eyes flicking contemptuously over Amber’s plain black dress, which had clearly seen better days. ‘I mean—just look at those stupid women.’ She waved an elegant, crimson-nailed hand around the room. ‘As soon as they set eyes on darling Max, they all immediately went on “red alert”. A total waste of time, of course. You couldn’t expect such an attractive man to even give them the time of day!’ she added with a cruel laugh. ‘By the way, I hear Max is staying at your boarding-house for a few days.’
‘Yes,’ Amber told her stonily, not finding it at all difficult to understand why Cynthia was so deeply unpopular with the other women in the town.
‘Well, I don’t suppose he’ll be with you for long. As far as I can see, it looks as if Max hasn’t changed one bit.’ She gave another low, throaty chuckle of laughter. ‘Because, if I remember rightly—and of course I do!—he always did get bored very easily.’
Amber shrugged, steeling herself against the poisonous darts of this equally poisonous woman, who was clearly intent on reclaiming her old boyfriend.
Well, the very best of luck to her! Amber thought sourly. If Max wanted to get heavily involved with this sexy, ash-blonde divorcee, that was entirely his own affair. She didn’t give a toss what he did—just as long as he left her and Lucy alone. Right?
Unexpectedly overwhelmed by a sudden heavy weight of depression, her dismal thoughts were sharply interrupted as Cynthia gave a quick, breathless gasp of pleasure.
‘Max, darling! How wonderful to see you again!’ she cried as his tall, rangy figure crossed the room towards them. ‘It was very naughty of you to abandon poor little Amber....’ she added, winding her arms about his neck and giving him a long, lingering kiss on the lips.
Try as she might, Amber couldn’t seem able to tear her eyes away from the glamorous blonde’s voluptuous figure pressed so closely to that of Max, or to avoid noticing the way in which he was so enthusiastically responding to her kiss, his hands eagerly closing about her slim waist.
‘Umm...we must definitely do that again—very soon!’ Cynthia gave another husky, sensual laugh as she slowly removed her arms from around his neck. ‘The whole town is buzzing with news of the prodigal’s return. Is it really true that you’re thinking of settling down here in Elmbridge?’ she added, gazing hungrily up into his gleaming blue eyes.
Amber froze, her nails biting into the palms of her tightly clenched hands as she realised that the feelings tearing at her heart with such sharp, fierce claws were nothing more or less than an overwhelming surge of pure feminine jealousy. Feeling faint and almost sick, she stared down at the floor while she struggled to control her emotions. Like an animal in pain, she wanted only to escape, to seek the shelter of a deep, dark and private burrow in which to lick her wounds in secret. But of course, she couldn’t. Sunk in misery, it was some time before she became fully aware of the conversation taking place beside her.
‘...yes, I’ll be in touch with you again, very soon. Unfortunately, I’m afraid that it’s time Amber and I were on our way.’
‘What...?’
‘I’ve just bumped into your boyfriend,’ he told Amber, who was staring at him in glassy-eyed horror. ‘He was just rushing off to a bad car accident on the A45. Apparently it looks as if we’re in for a heavy snowstorm tonight. So I said that I’d take you back home.’
‘Surely there’s no need to leave so soon?’ Cynthia murmured, obviously not at all pleased by the turn of events. ‘I’m dying to hear what you’ve been doing all these years you’ve been away. And is it really true that you’re thinking of settling down here in Elmbridge? It would be such fun helping you to find just the right house. There are quite a few on the market at the moment, and...’
‘Oh, that’s no problem. I’ve already decided to buy Elmbridge Hall.’
‘What a brilliant idea!’ she exclaimed happily over Amber’s muffled gasp of protest. ‘And once you’ve renovated that poor, neglected house, there’s only one more thing you’ll need to make everything just perfect.’
‘And that is?’
‘Surely it’s obvious darling. What you need is a wife!’ Cynthia murmured huskily, throwing him a smouldering, sideways glance through her long, thick eyelashes.
‘You’re absolutely right,’ Max agreed. ‘In fact, I’m hoping to get married to an old girlfriend in the very near future.’
And we all know which ‘old girlfriend’ he has in mind, Amber thought miserably as Max led her from the room. If that smile of smug satisfaction and triumph on the glamorous divorcee’s face was anything to go by, the only question in Cynthia’s mind was precisely where she and Max would be spending their honeymoon.
* * *
The heavy, oppressive silence within Max’s car seemed never-ending. As did the short journey back to Elmbridge Hall. Tense and nervous, Amber stared blindly through the windscreen, the rapidly falling snow glistening in the bright glare of the headlights. She could hardly believe that it was still only Friday night. Just how long was she going to have to put up with the ominous, baleful presence of this hard and indomitable man?
Desperately trying to combat a rising tide of fear and panic, Amber closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest. It was nerve-racking to realise that they still hadn’t discussed the all-important matter of Lucy. Or could it be that Max was just playing a game with her? Maybe he was deliberately keeping her in this ghastly state of overwhelming stress and anxiety, piling on the agony until almost the last moment before his departure.
And that wasn’t all. On top of all her other problems, she now had to contend with his apparent decision to buy Elmbridge Hall. How dare he just casually announce the news to that nauseating woman, Cynthia Henderson? Surely he might have had the common decency to discuss the matter with her before telling anyone else. After all, it was still her home. It was up to her to decide whether or not she wished to sell it to Max.
Amber could almost tangibly feel the anger and fury raging through her veins at being treated as though she had no choice in the matter. For all he knew, there might be hundreds of people queuing up to purchase the Hall. The unfortunate fact that Max was the only person who’d expressed any interest in purchasing the old Tudor mansion merely served to increase her frustration at being treated in such a high-handed manner.
By the time Max brought the car to a halt outside Elmbridge Hall, she’d worked herself up into such a state that she could contain herself no longer. ‘What are you intending to do about Lucy?’ she burst out angrily as he came around to open her door. ‘And if you think you can just calmly announce that you’re going to buy my home, you’ve got another think coming!’
‘I suggest we leave any discussion on those points until we get inside. It’s freezing out here,’ Max said, taking hold of her arm and leading her trembling figure up the icy steps to the front door. ‘Why don’t you go and check that your mother’s all right?’ he added as they entered the house.
‘Why don’t you mind your own damn business—and stop ordering me around?’ she retorted furiously before stalking off across the hall towards Violet Grant’s wing of the house.
After checking on her mother, who was fast asleep, Amber was still fuming by the time she made her way to the sitting room, where Max had set out a tray containing a bottle and two glasses. Casting a jaundiced eye over the large flagon of rare malt whiskey—it was years since she’d been able to a
fford anything so expensive—she was slightly mollified by the fact that Max had also put some more logs on the smouldering fire in the huge grate, whose flames cast a warm glow over the antique furniture and old velvet curtains.
‘Here...this will warm you up,’ he said, holding out a glass of pale tawny liquid towards her.
Backing away from him, she shook her head. ‘No, I don’t want anything more to drink. I’ve already had a lot of wine at dinner, and...’
‘For God’s sake, relax!’ he retorted impatiently, firmly placing the glass in her hands. ‘Believe me, this is purely medicinal. Far from intending to seduce you with the demon drink, I’m merely trying to prevent you from looking quite so cold and tired.’
‘I really don’t...’
‘Drink it!’ he growled, frowning fiercely down at her until she did as she was told before leading her towards a comfortable sofa by the fire.
‘Whatever happened to the glamorous and charming “Mad Max” Warner? From what I can see, you appear to have all the charisma of a rattlesnake!’ she grumbled, determined not to admit that the fiery liquor was indeed making her feel a good deal warmer and less weary.
‘I’ve already told you to forget the past,’ he told her firmly, sitting himself down on the other end of the sofa. ‘I’m only interested in the present—and the future, of course. Which is why I want to discuss what we’re going to do about Lucy.’
Overwhelmingly relieved to find that Max was, at last, prepared to broach the subject that had been tormenting her for so many weeks, Amber took a deep breath. Whatever the provocation, it was desperately important that she remain cool, calm and collected throughout their discussion.
‘I know Elmbridge has changed and grown slightly larger since you’ve been away. But it is still a small market town, with everyone taking a close friendly interest in their neighbours. In other words,’ she gave him a weak smile, ‘it’s very much the same hotbed of rumour and gossip that it’s always been.’
He shrugged. ‘You’re not telling me anything that I haven’t already seen and heard for myself.’