The Bride of Santa Barbara

by Angela Devine

  ‘Who is it?’ asked Beth sleepily without much interest. She was lying on the deck, creaming sunscreen over her shoulders for a carefully timed tan.

  ‘Benson,’ replied Daniel, switching off the phone. ‘He said Sunny called about half an hour ago and says she has been on location up near San Francisco. She’s driving through to Los Angeles and wants to stop for supper with us around seven. Is that OK with you?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Beth rather frostily.

  The request brought home the difficulty of her situation. Even if she were married to Daniel, there might well be times when he would entertain people whom she didn’t particularly want, but not his mistress, surely? The thought sent a familiar barb of pain through her. Was Sunny his mistress? Beth stared down at him with a troubled expression, wishing she could read his mind, wishing he would tell her what was going on.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked sharply, intercepting her look.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said huskily, managing a small unconvincing smile.

  He stretched out his hand to her.

  ‘Come here,’ he ordered gruffly.

  She slid down into the cockpit on the padded seat beside him. His right hand still held the tiller, but his left arm came round her and drew her firmly against him. So close that she could feel the warmth of his tanned thigh against hers and feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

  ‘Are you happy with me?’ he demanded harshly.

  She nodded silently, letting her long fingers trail along the inside of his leg. She wondered bitterly why it was so easy to touch him intimately yet so hard to speak to him of her feelings.

  ‘No regrets?’ he demanded.

  She sighed.

  ‘No regrets,’ she said bleakly.

  It was after six o’clock when they reached Daniel’s house in the hills and delectable smells of fried chicken were issuing from the kitchen. Benson came out into the living-room to greet them.

  ‘I wonder if I could persuade you to join me in the kitchen, Miss Saxon,’ he suggested with a smile. ‘I thought I might try that new potato salad recipe you were telling me about.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Beth, feeling rather flattered.

  In the couple of months since she had first met Daniel, she had struck up quite a friendship with the reserved British butler. She suspected he was probably rather like herself, someone with strong feelings who found it very hard to express them. When she had showered and changed she made her way to the kitchen, with the comfortable feeling of joining a friend. She found it was quite soothing to fry chips of bacon and chop up parsley while Benson chatted about his years in the British navy. Fortunately he already had some cold boiled potatoes ready in the refrigerator, so all she had to do was add the chopped hard-boiled eggs, the bacon, parsley and mayonnaise and a plentiful grinding of black pepper.

  ‘There,’ she said with satisfaction.

  ‘May I taste it?’ asked Benson, scooping some on a saucer with a fork. ‘Yes, that’s excellent. You know it reminds me of a lunch I had with my late wife Barbara ten years ago in Torquay. Funny how the taste of food can take you back, isn’t it? I can see our cottage now, with the sea below us and the red geraniums on the terrace.’

  ‘That sounds lovely,’ said Beth sincerely. ‘Did you miss it when you moved to the United States?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ agreed Benson. ‘But I felt a complete break was best after Barbara’s death. My sons were both grown-up and didn’t need me and Mr Pryor offered me a very tempting salary to come here and work for him. Very tempting indeed. And I always told him I would stay with him until he got married then I’d retire back to Torquay. Well, it looks as though I won’t have long to wait now, doesn’t it?’

  ‘What?’ echoed Beth aghast. ‘What do you mean?’

  Benson cleared his throat and looked embarrassed.

  ‘Oh, well, I’ll say no more,’ he apologised. ‘Perhaps I’ve already said too much.’

  Beth was still looking at him in consternation when the front doorbell suddenly rang.

  ‘Would you mind going, madam?’ asked Benson. ‘I’ve got my hands covered in flour and I doubt if Mr Pryor will hear it, shut away with that computer going.’

  ‘Not at all,’ agreed Beth.

  She hurried out of the kitchen into the hall with her thoughts whirling. Was Benson implying that Daniel was about to get married? Well, if so, it certainly couldn’t be Beth that he had in mind, for he had never mentioned anything of the kind to her. And that only left one possibility. Sunny Martino! Beth reached the doorway of the living-room and stood frozen in her tracks. Obviously Daniel had heard the doorbell, for he was striding towards the front door with an eager smile on his face. As he opened the door, Sunny burst in and flung herself on his neck. Daniel swung her around in a circle and then set her on her feet again, whistling a snatch of that poignant little tune that Beth had first heard on the day of their trail ride.

  ‘Well, how are you doing, Sunny?’ he asked.

  Sunny gave a low, sensual ripple of laughter and then stood on tiptoe lifting her lips to his.

  ‘Oh, it’s torture to go on seeing you like this, my darling,’ she trilled. ‘But soon the waiting will be over. The moment my divorce comes through we can be married at last. I can’t wait for the day!’

  Beth didn’t wait to hear any more. An incredulous feeling of horror filled her as she backed away through the living-room and she was conscious of only one thing. The need to get as far away as possible.

  Incredibly Benson was still in the kitchen frying chicken when she returned. She felt as if years must have passed and yet it couldn’t have been more than five minutes. With a dazed expression she looked about her, half expecting to see something like the devastation of the big San Francisco earthquake. Something to match the way she felt inside. But the kitchen looked just as always.

  ‘I’m leaving now!’ she blurted out.

  Benson looked shocked. Or at least, if Benson had ever shown his feelings, he would have looked shocked. Both grey eyebrows rose by almost a millimetre and his lips pursed.

  ‘Indeed, madam? You’re not hungry?’

  ‘No. No! Benson, I have to...I have to go. I’ve forgotten something in...Los Angeles. The wedding-dress for the auction tomorrow. It needs more seed-pearls sewn on the hem.’

  Benson sniffed.

  ‘Will there be any message for Mr Pryor, madam?’

  Beth’s eyes shot blue fire. ‘Yes! Tell him...tell him...oh, what’s the use?’

  Hastily biting her knuckle, she ran out of the room. There was no pursuit. Benson was like the three wise monkeys. ‘See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil’ was his motto, and he didn’t believe in interfering. And of course Daniel was too busy dancing attention on Sunny Martino out on the patio to care what Beth was doing. She saw their surprised faces as her car roared down the drive and felt a momentary surge of satisfaction. But it soon gave way to despair.

  As she drove down the coast road every mile was filled with memories of Daniel. She could not breathe the salt air or see the dark mechanical shapes of the oil rigs against the red blaze of the setting sun without thinking of him. Was it really only a couple of months since they had driven down this road together for her first fashion show in Los Angeles? She thought of all that had happened since then and an ache like a physical pain spread through her body. Try as she might, she could not stem the flood of memories. Daniel fishing her out of the Santa Barbara harbour in her wedding-dress, cajoling and bullying her into the frenzied task of replacing her lost fashion collection. Daniel in the candlelight at Emilio’s, his eyes glittering as he told her how much he wanted her. Daniel on the trail ride, looking totally at home in the saddle with blue sky and sun-bleached hills all around him. Daniel’s kindness and patience as he started the young filly, his rage as he hurled Warren into the night, his passion as he made love to Beth in the red glare of the firelight. And now his betrayal.

  ‘I can’t bear it!’ she
said aloud. ‘I can’t bear it.’

  Although it was Sunday, the traffic in the centre of the city seemed almost as gridlocked as on a weekday and it was almost three hours before she reached Daniel’s apartment block. When she did, she sat outside, hesitating as she looked at the familiar palm trees and the pale blue plumbago spilling over the side wall. The first place Daniel would look for her was her cottage in the Santa Ynez Valley, but after that he would certainly come here. And he wouldn’t be in a good mood. Beth winced, dreading the inevitable confrontation. Sooner or later she would have to talk to him, but tonight she simply couldn’t face it. That left only one place she could go. The shop on Rodeo Drive.

  It was close to midnight when she arrived there and the couch in the tearoom was just as uncomfortable as it looked. She lay awake for a long time, staring into the darkness, her throat aching with unshed tears. About two a.m. she drifted into a light doze, but was startled into consciousness by the clamour of the telephone. She jumped up and ran to it, but froze as her fingers touched the receiver. Daniel. It could only be Daniel. And she didn’t want to speak to him. Not now. Not ever. She let it shrill on and on, feeling as if every nerve in her body was in torment, until at last it stopped.

  Yet she could not postpone the ordeal forever. The next morning she was at Cadogan Hall bright and early, dressed in a stylish blue honeycomb-knit dress with enough make-up to cover her pallor. As she helped the models dress and listened to the murmur of the growing audience in the hall, she half feared and half hoped that Daniel would come and find her. But he didn’t. The thunderous applause at the end of her show assured her that her designs had been a success, but she scarcely cared. Her stomach was churning nervously and only guilt and a sense of duty brought her out into the audience to watch the wedding-dress being auctioned for charity.

  She saw him then and her heart missed a beat at the sight. He was wearing a pale grey suit with a blue shirt and striped tie and one glance was enough to tell her that he was seething. He sat forward in his place with his elbows resting tautly on his knees and his chin jutting forward. When his gaze met Beth’s he glanced instantly away and said something to the woman beside him. Beth’s spirits sank as she realised it was Sunny Martino.

  Even the auction of the wedding-dress wasn’t enough to take her mind off Daniel, although the bidding seemed to be climbing to astronomical heights. It was a dream of a dress in white organza with puffed sleeves, a lace overskirt, a dramatic train and a bodice and hem embroidered with tiny seed-pearls. Beth’s eyes widened as the final bid was announced and a bald, middle-aged man came forward to claim his trophy. Forty thousand dollars! It was unbelievable. Then her gaze slewed back to Daniel.

  He was coming towards her with a grim smile playing around the corners of his mouth and an unholy light blazing in his eyes. As he reached her he gave her a curt nod.

  ‘Hello, Beth. May I take you upstairs to lunch?’

  ‘Well, I—’

  ‘Good.’

  His fingers closed around her arm like a vice. This time there was no insistence on sending her off to fend for herself. Throughout the next hour he stayed beside her while buyers came to her with orders, photographers clustered to take her photo and the gossip columnists surged around interviewing her. Not that anyone would have been tempted to suppose he was in love with her. His expression was frankly murderous.

  ‘Right, we’re getting out of here,’ he announced at precisely two o’clock.

  ‘I don’t want to leave yet!’ protested Beth.

  ‘Sweetheart,’ growled Daniel in a voice that sent thrills of panic chasing down her spine, ‘we have business to discuss and, unless you want to discuss it here, we’re leaving now.’

  The drive home passed in ominous silence. Daniel ignored her tentative attempts at conversation, clearly determined to have the showdown on his own ground. Only when they were inside his apartment and the door had slammed shut behind them did he speak.

  ‘Well?’ he said in a soft, menacing tone as he advanced towards her. ‘Running out on me seems to be getting quite a habit of yours. Would you mind telling me why you left me this time?’

  Beth felt a flicker of alarm at the controlled rage in every line of his powerful body. Then an answering spark of anger flared up inside her, like a cinder whipped by a sudden wind.

  ‘No, I wouldn’t mind at all!’ she retorted, tossing her head. ‘I left because I’m not prepared to share you with Sunny Martino. Or anyone else.’

  ‘Share me with Sunny Martino? What the hell are you talking about?’

  His shock and outrage were so blatant that Beth paused for a moment. Could she possibly have made a mistake? Then she remembered her conversation with Benson and the words she had overheard between Sunny and Daniel and her anger flared up again.

  ‘You know perfectly well what I’m talking about!’ she exclaimed. ‘Benson dropped me a pretty broad hint that you were planning on getting married and I overheard that stuff that Sunny told you at the door last night about how it was torture to go on seeing you and how she was going to marry you the minute her divorce came through... What are you laughing at?’

  For to her astonishment Daniel’s stern expression had suddenly broken up. He stood staring at her for a moment, with twitching lips and gleaming eyes and then it was all too much for him, and he laughed until the tears came to his eyes. Beth watched coldly, wondering if he had lost his senses. At last he straightened up and shook his head, but even then his words made no sense.

  ‘I’ll be darned. Destiny’s Favourite.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ demanded Beth in a hostile voice.

  Daniel was still grinning and shaking his head but he managed to compose himself enough to whistle a few bars of a haunting little tune. The poignant melody that Beth had first heard on the trail ride. Then the notes petered out.

  ‘I’m not going to marry Sunny,’ he said flatly. ‘What you heard from her wasn’t a statement of undying passion, it was the opening lines from Destiny’s Favourite. Hell, that scene must have been played fifty times or more on television. It’s a private joke between Sunny and me.’

  ‘Then you’re not in love with her?’ said Beth uncertainly.

  ‘No.’

  Beth bit her lip, feeling humiliated and very, very foolish. The half-hidden grin on Daniel’s face didn’t help matters much. Angrily she pushed past him into the living-room.

  ‘Well, you can hardly blame me for thinking that you were,’ she flared. ‘Heaven knows you’ve done your best to make me believe that ever since I first met you.’

  She heard Daniel’s footsteps behind her. His voice was suddenly sober.

  ‘That’s true,’ he admitted, his warm hand descending on her shoulder. ‘I wanted you to think that.’

  She swung round to face him, anger surging through her.

  ‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘Just to get a good laugh out of how stupid I was?’

  ‘No,’ insisted Daniel. ‘Look, at first it was just to throw the reporters off our trail, but after that I kept it up because I wanted to make you jealous.’

  ‘Jealous! Why?’

  Daniel winced and seemed to search vainly for words.

  ‘Oh, I can’t explain it,’ he said impatiently. ‘It was all to do with Warren. I thought if you got the idea that Sunny was keen on me you’d realise you wanted me more than him and you’d give him up.’

  Beth gave a mirthless laugh.

  ‘You could have saved yourself the trouble,’ she said. ‘I gave up Warren the morning after the first fashion show. I just couldn’t keep on seeing him when I was so attracted to you.’

  Daniel let out a long, bewildered sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.

  ‘Well, if you were so attracted to me, why were you always fighting me off?’ he demanded.

  Beth felt as if she was skating on very thin ice. The memory of Greg flashed back to haunt her, but curiously it no longer seemed to have any power. She shrugged.

  �
�You reminded me of someone,’ she said. ‘Someone I knew a long time ago.’

  But Daniel was shrewd.

  ‘The guy you were involved with before you started seeing Warren?’ he demanded.

  ‘I suppose you could say that,’ said Beth with an uneasy grimace.

  Daniel’s eyes were narrowed and hostile.

  ‘Who was he?’ he rapped out.

  Beth flinched.

  ‘My sister’s husband,’ she said.

  ‘You had an affair with your sister’s husband?’ echoed Daniel in horror.

  ‘No!’ cried Beth. ‘He—he kissed me once. It made me feel terrible. Guilty, ashamed, distrustful of men with that kind of raw animal magnetism, men who had meaningless affairs with women they didn’t care about. When I met you, you reminded me of him.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Daniel wryly. ‘I appreciate the character analysis. But it may interest you to know that I fell in love with you the first day I met you and my intentions towards you have never been anything but honourable.’

  Beth stared at him in shock, unable to believe what she had just heard.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked slowly.

  Daniel paced angrily around the room, clenching and unclenching his fists.

  ‘Because you were involved with Warren,’ he said. ‘Or I thought you were. And also because you accused me of manipulating and railroading people. There was enough truth in that accusation to make it hurt. And I sure as hell didn’t want to railroad you. I wanted you to be certain of your feelings for me, so I never told you how much I loved you for fear of putting pressure on you. But maybe Sunny was right. She always insisted that I ought to tell you the truth.’