by Natalie Fox
‘The guy who owns the bar in the village. He’s getting married tomorrow and has invited us both.’
‘He doesn’t know me!’ Verity protested. Her heart was back to normal and so were her wits. Had she really expected a proposal?
‘The whole village is invited. Shall we go?’
She didn’t want to, absolutely not. It would be painful. But she wanted to get out of the old mill house. Apart from a few walks when the weather had been good, they had never ventured out together. They’d been cocooned for almost a month, living and loving together and not seeing another living soul. Perhaps too much of a good thing.
‘Why not?’ she answered coolly.
The wedding-day dawned bright and beautiful. Verity lay next to Rupert, her arm across his chest, and gazed out of the window. Their last full day together and they were going to a wedding. Her heart ached for it to be their own, but that was a hopeless dream. Yet she would settle for just one declaration of love from Rupert. She didn’t need marriage but she needed him in her life to love her; perhaps that was a hopeless dream too.
They had their breakfast on the terrace, laughing and joking, but there was a void already opening up between them, stilting that humour.
‘When will you be coming back to England?’ she asked him as she sat back and sipped her coffee. The sky was so blue it made her ache inside. There was the sweet scent of pine in the air and she wanted to remember this forever.
‘I don’t know, maybe next week. I’ll see how I survive without you.’ He was grinning as he said it and for once Verity didn’t appreciate the smile.
‘You’ll have to make your own bed and do your own washing-up from now on.’ She kept her voice light. She didn’t want him to know how desperate she felt about leaving.
‘I managed before.’ This time there was no accompanying grin.
And you’ll manage without me forever because there isn’t anything there, Verity mournfully thought. He’d made it clear from the start that he wasn’t promising anything, and if she had fallen in love with him she only had herself to blame. She had been warned.
‘We’d better get ready,’ she said brightly and stood up to clear the dishes. Rupert was still sitting there after she had washed up, distant and morose and gazing into space.
The village church was packed and cold, and Rupert slid his arm around her to keep her warm.
‘The bride is quite fat,’ Rupert whispered, ‘she obviously hasn’t read your book.’
‘It wouldn’t have done her much good—she’s pregnant!’
They discussed this on their way home, after the reception, which was held in the local bar and spilled out on to the plaza. Rupert drove and Verity sat next to him, clutching a piece of the bridegroom’s tie in her hand. At the reception the groom’s tie had been cut into small pieces and each guest had bought a piece, and the money collected was part of the couple’s dowry. Verity was enthralled by the custom, amazed how sensible and practical it was.
‘Must have been a shotgun wedding,’ was Rupert’s cynical contribution to the discussion.
‘Not necessarily,’ Verity argued. ‘They were obviously very much in love.’
‘They had no choice but to put a brave face on. An abortion in a Catholic village like this was probably out of the question.’
‘The question probably didn’t even arise!’ Verity snapped back. ‘They were in love and wanted that child; their timing was just a bit out, that’s all. Why do men always think abortion is the answer?’
‘I didn’t say that, Verity,’ Rupert insisted darkly as they turned into the pink driveway.
‘OK, let’s drop it,’ she suggested flintily, and was the first out of the car and into the house.
She left Rupert to lay the fire and ran upstairs to her bedroom to change her clothes. It had been a long day and she was tired and her suitcase was staring at her as she opened her bedroom door. Oh, God, this was their last night together. She slumped down on to the bed and held her head in her hands.
How would they leave it? Would he want to see her in England? It would be different in England. Both returning to such a very different life from the one they had shared here.
‘I’ll drive you to the airport tomorrow,’ he told her when she came downstairs. So their parting had been on his mind too.
‘It’s not necessary,’ she told him quietly as she passed him to go to the kitchen.
He caught her wrist and pulled her to him, but not into his arms, just in front of him so he could pressure her shoulders and keep her still.
‘It is necessary,’ he insisted. ‘It’s a long drive and...’
‘And you’ll have to get a taxi back—’
‘It isn’t a problem.’
‘I don’t want you to drive me to the airport!’ Her voice rose dramatically and she swallowed hard. ‘I’d much rather go on my own,’ she said more levelly.
‘Do you hate airport goodbyes?’
Her heart iced. And it would be goodbye. He’d said it and he meant it.
‘They don’t bother me,’ she told him dismissively and tried to shift away from him.
It seemed to irritate him and his fingers tightened on her shoulders.
‘I warned you, Verity. I warned you I couldn’t make any promises—’
‘About what?’ she stormed, angry now because of her disappointment. ‘Us? I knew the score, Rupert. I don’t expect anything from you, so don’t waste your breath offering me excuses.’
‘I’m offering you nothing of the sort. I didn’t want any of this to happen—’
‘But it did, and whatever you say it won’t right a wrong.’
‘It was wrong, was it?’
He obviously didn’t think it had been, but then he wasn’t suffering and she wasn’t going to show him she was.
‘No, it wasn’t,’ she offered on a sigh. She looked into his eyes but they were as unreadable as when first they had met. For a short time, since she had loved him, she had seen those eyes soften, but no more. ‘I have no regrets, Rupert, but tomorrow I go home and I have a life and a job to pick up on and that’s all I need.’
His fingers bit into her fiercely. ‘That’s all you’ve ever needed, isn’t it? Someone to ease your way back into life after Mike’s death.’
‘Well, we did each other a favour, didn’t we?’
‘Meaning?’
‘You filled a few gaps in my life and I filled a few in yours. We’re quits, so let’s leave the score even, shall we?’
‘So this was all a game to you—’
‘Some game, some damned rules! You started all this, Rupert,’ she cried. ‘If you had just kept yourself to yourself, just as we had arranged—’
‘Stop it, Verity,’ he growled. ‘You sound like one of those typical females I despise so much.’
‘Oh, the Sarah sort? You know, I can sympathise with her. Life with you must have been a miserable tirade. I bet the poor girl didn’t know where she was with you from one day to the next.’
He said nothing but his eyes darkened so threateningly that she felt fear rattle its chains. She pulled herself away from him and rubbed her shoulders.
‘I’m sorry—’
‘Don’t apologise for the truth,’ he rasped. ‘Sarah too was quite inept at voicing her opinions till she walked out on me. Now she just sends me bills, but I don’t fall into those traps so easily now—’
‘How dare you? How dare you insinuate that I would do the same?’
‘I didn’t. You took it that way. Now listen, Verity,’ he ordered blackly, ‘I told you from the off that I’m not into the wedded-bliss game—’
‘Who mentioned marriage?’ she stormed, her eyes wide and raging.
‘No one, but before you get any ideas—’
‘I haven’t any ideas, Rupert bloody Scott. And that is your big problem. You think that every female that comes on to you wants marriage. So Sarah gave you a hard time—tough. I won’t. I’ve enjoyed our affair but if I never saw you aga
in it would be too soon!’
She swung from him then and powered out to the kitchen. She wanted to power up to her bedroom but that would show she cared and was ready for a good sulk. Well, she’d get on with the dinner and just show him she didn’t care a damn about leaving him tomorrow.
Later, when they were in bed and making love for the last time, Verity behaved badly. She knew what she was doing and her only excuse was that she was hurting so badly inside that it seemed the only way. She was demanding; not verbally, she didn’t have to speak; her hungry body said it all. But at the same time she gave as good as she demanded, wanting to store away every caress, every kiss, every hungry thrust of his manhood in her memory banks.
Deep into the night when he slept beside her she coiled herself into him and cried quietly to herself, ashamed and remorseful for demanding so much of him. She smoothed her hands over his exhausted body and kissed his lips softly and let her tears dry on his face. It was all she had to leave him, tears of sorrow and regret for their very imperfect affair.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘Have you got everything?’
How banal, how damned unoriginal! Verity wanted to scream it but didn’t. It would show her bitterness and Rupert would read it as sadness, and she had her pride.
‘Yes, everything,’ she told him brightly.
He settled her lap-top computer on the back seat of the hired car and slammed shut the door.
‘I can still drive you down to the airport.’
‘Forget it,’ Verity told him with a forced smile. ‘It’s a lovely day. I’ll enjoy it better on my own.’
She thought she saw hurt in his eyes but she had thought she’d seen much more this morning when he had woken her with soft tempting kisses. But she was wrong, of course, just hopefully seeking something that wasn’t there.
‘I’ll phone you,’ he murmured as he took her in his arms for the last time.
‘Yes, that would be nice,’ she murmured back and as his mouth closed over hers she wondered how he would do that, for he didn’t know her number or where she lived or very much about her at all. She wondered that because she was forcing herself to think of anything but what was really on her mind—the terrible feeling of loss.
She didn’t look back, not even a glance in the rear-view mirror, not even a perfunctory wave out of the open window as she rattled down the dirt-track road and out of his life.
‘Who sent the roses?’ Alan asked a few weeks later. They’d arrived that morning. Delivered to the office because that was the only place he knew where to find her.
‘A secret admirer, probably,’ Verity told him and nothing more. The card with no message, simply Rupert’s name on it, was ripped and in the bin. If only he’d written something...
‘A bit late for Valentine’s Day.’
‘Is it?’
Verity didn’t even bother to look up from her work. She was still frosty with Alan. On her first day back to work she had coldly told him exactly what she thought of him, as she had done her cousin Stuart. She had also told them that absolutely nothing had come of their disgusting plan and she didn’t want to hear another word mentioned about Rupert Scott. The subject was closed.
‘Still mad with us?’ Alan asked quietly, determined to reopen it. He sounded repentant and Verity wavered.
She looked up then. They would never know how much. She was mad with everyone, even herself. How could she have been so stupid and let all this happen? Now she was going to pay for that disastrous affair, more than she could ever have anticipated.
‘I feel sorry for you both more than anything, not that you deserve my sympathy,’ she retorted loftily. ‘You and your warped ambition, willing to sacrifice my honour for your own ends, and as for Stuart, poor soul, my heart bleeds for him, he’s getting his come-uppance all right, at the hands of his greedy grabbing wife, your sister Angie.’
‘It was her idea, you know,’ Alan told her, ignoring the slur on his sister and perching on her desk as if ready for a good old heart-to-heart.
Verity shuffled papers. She really didn’t need this. She sighed. ‘I’m not surprised by anything that Angie does, but what does surprise me is the way you both went along with it. I really believed you cared about me.’
‘We do, and we thought we were helping.’
‘Helping yourself!’ Verity cried. Her hand came up and kneaded her feverish brow. She didn’t feel well and hadn’t felt well since she had realised ...
‘That was an afterthought.’
Verity’s eyes widened. ‘An afterthought?’
‘It was true that Stuart arranged that dinner party to get you two together, thinking that it might help you and us, but the rest was all to do with Angie.’
‘Yes, I can imagine! You two amaze me, grown men as well, manipulated by little Angie,’ she gibed sarcastically.
‘She didn’t manipulate us, Verity,’ Alan said calmly, ‘just made us see something we missed. She saw the look in Rupert Scott’s eyes every time he looked at you.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Verity smiled cynically. She didn’t believe the look could have been anything but derisive. ‘Contempt, was it?’
‘Far from it,’ Alan smiled. ‘Women are far more astute than us poor blind males. Angie saw the interest, the attraction, the lust, if you like.’
Verity shook her head in disbelief. ‘Rubbish. Shall I tell you something? He didn’t even remember my name when I turned up at El Molino. Hardly the reaction you’d expect from a man champing at the bit. No, Angie saw what she’d hoped to see, Alan. She wanted Rupert to be interested in me, for her own ends!’
Why, she’d done the very same thing herself. Imagined that Rupert had cared for her when she had caught him looking at her in a certain way. But looks were deceptive and, besides, they weren’t enough, nor were bouquets of red roses with no message!
‘That’s unfair, Verity. We all care very deeply for you. Do you honestly believe we would have arranged for the pair of you to spend such an intimate time together if we didn’t think some sort of happiness for you would come out of it?’
Verity lost her temper then. She stood up and angrily faced her boss. ‘You wanted to get us together for his advertising and his magazines—’
‘OK, what we did was out of order but worse things have been done in the name of business; nevertheless, we all hoped you would get some happiness out of it,’ Alan insisted.
‘Well, I didn’t!’ Verity cried, trying to hide the hurt from him. The opposite, the very opposite. Even the good times had soured now. How could she have even thought she’d been happy in that old mill house when her love hadn’t been returned?
‘I’m sorry about that,’ Alan offered at last after studying her intently. ‘But I know it all looks black to you and our intentions not particularly honourable, but when Angie saw the way he looked at you... well... we just thought no harm would be done.’
No harm done, she mused ironically after Alan had left. If only they all knew how deeply the damage went. She stared at the deep red roses. Moonlight and roses, she had never thought it possible from him. And if only this hadn’t happened ... her hand strayed to her stomach... she could appreciate that he might, he just might care a tiny bit. But she had to force herself to think otherwise, that the moonlight had been a prelude to the affair and the roses the grand finale.
‘I... I didn’t expect you so early.’
Verity stood back from the door of her first-floor flat. Her heart was pounding erratically but Rupert stood as still as a statue in front of her. The Rupert Scott she had first known; sophisticated, cool and aloof. She knew then that Angie had been very wrong and hadn’t seen any sign of interest in those cool grey eyes. They weren’t capable of showing or feeling any emotion.
‘Aren’t you going to ask me in?’ were his first stiff words.
She stood back further and let him step into the small hallway. He turned to her as she closed the door after him.
‘Why the coolness on the phone, Verit
y?’
She led him through to her small sitting-room. She’d made it as comfortable as possible for him, lit the gas log fire, bought fresh flowers that very morning, plumped up the cushions. She wanted to show him that she had a life without him and a pleasant one too.
‘I was just surprised you’d called. How did you know my telephone number?’
‘Don’t be absurd. I looked in the telephone book, of course.’ His voice was brittle.
Of course. She hadn’t thought. The call and his request to see her had been such a surprise that she hadn’t wondered till now how he had known her number.
‘Sit down,’ she offered nervously.
He did, in her favourite armchair. He looked so very different from the Rupert she had loved in Andalucía. His hair had been cut since then and was stylishly blow-dried. He looked good in his formal grey suit, almost the same colour as his eyes. She still loved him; how could she stop?
‘Did you get the flowers?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
There was a long, long silence in which Rupert stared at the floor and Verity watched him staring at the floor. They had shared so much and now suddenly there was an unbridgeable gulf between them.
‘The cold farewell at El Molino, the frosty phone call, and now this bleak reception,’ he said at last. ‘Are you trying to tell me something, Verity?’ He looked up at her then, his jawline stretched taut as if he was gritting his teeth.
Verity stood by the fire, leaning one arm on the stripped-pine mantelpiece. She felt at an advantage standing and she needed to be at an advantage with him, but all the same her insides twisted painfully.
‘It depends on what you want to hear,’ she said coldly.
Another awkward silence before he spoke. ‘When you left El Molino so breezily I hoped you were just putting on a brave face. I’d like to believe you didn’t give me a backward glance because your eyes were filled with tears.’
She couldn’t believe his cruelty. Had he come here to turn the knife? ‘I... I can’t believe we are discussing something so very unimportant—’
