by Liz Fielding
‘I’m afraid there seems to be some confusion over seating arrangements,’ Griff continued, producing his boarding card and addressing Rupert. ‘You appear to be sitting in my seat.’
Maddy, her eyes fixed firmly on the seat ahead of her, put her hand on Rupert’s arm. ‘Please stay where you are. I’m absolutely certain that Mr Griffin will be perfectly happy in the seat he occupied during take-off.’
‘I boarded at the last moment and had to sit in Economy. I did, however, request this seat especially.’
‘Did you? This seat? Is it special?’ Rupert, groomed from the nursery in the conduct of a gentleman, stood up and reached for the boarding card in his top pocket to consult the number.
‘Very special. I suffer acutely from a fear of flying. Unless I sit next to a qualified pilot I’m inclined to panic.’
‘Good Lord,’ Rupert said; then, as he sensed the tension that sparked between them, saw Maddy’s stark pallor, he realised that something was going on between the two of them that was far above his head. Latching onto something he did understand he said, ‘Maddy isn’t a qualified pilot.’
‘Oh, yes, Maddy is,’ Griff replied, with the absolute conviction of a man who knew what he was talking about as he swung into Rupert’s place alongside Maddy, stretching out his long legs as he settled in beside her.
‘I say—’ Rupert protested at the cavalier hijacking of his seat, at the possessive manner in which Griff took Maddy’s hand, apparently oblivious to the way she flinched away from him.
‘The thing about Maddy,’ Griff continued, his tone confidential as he directed his remarks to Rupert, ‘is her remarkable shyness about her accomplishments, but friends at the West London Aero Club tell me that she gained her licence after the minimum number of flying hours and was pronounced an exceptional student by her instructor.’
Griff had checked up on her? That easily? Maddy finally turned and stared at him and found herself drowning in the cool challenge of his eyes. Somehow, she had expected him to look just as she had last seen him — bare-chested, wearing nothing but a pair of scruffy shorts and ancient leather flip-flops, several days growth of beard where he hadn’t shaved. But he was cleanshaven, wearing a well-cut, tropical- weight suit in cream linen, his shirt open-necked, but his tie was draped around his collar as if, in his rush to catch the plane, he hadn’t had the time to knot it. It was silk, an extraordinary and very beautiful blend of the colours of the sea around Paradise Island.
On the hand holding hers was a signet ring, plain gold, but in the clear light at thirty thousand feet she could see the tiny griffin engraved upon its surface. How could she have ever been so stupid not to have realised? He had walked Paradise Island like a god, not like some casual trespasser.
‘Is that true, Maddy?’ Rupert demanded from the aisle, jolting her from her reverie. ‘Can you fly?’ He was astonished but clearly, very impressed.
Griff answered for her. ‘Take my word for it. Everything is true, except the fact that she’s an exceptional student.’ His jaw tightened ominously. ‘In my opinion, she’s reckless in the extreme, takes quite unnecessary risks, and any landing that needs a crane to rescue the plane from the sea—’
‘I haven’t yet learned your trick of doing it with the power turned off.’
‘Come back to Paradise and I’ll be happy to teach you.’ He turned to Rupert. ‘The thing about Maddy is that once she gets the hang of a thing she’s such an enthusiastic student.’
‘Maddy...’ Rupert muttered as they began to attract the attention of the other passengers. ‘Do you want me to go?’
The numbness had finally gone and Maddy was hurting. Griff was toying with her like a child twisting unwanted spaghetti around a fork and the pain was so intense that it was impossible to describe. And yet she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
‘Well, Maddy,’ he encouraged her, ‘answer Hartnoll’s question.’
Her cheeks were scorched by a fierce blush. How could he be so hateful? What on earth was he doing here anyway, tormenting her? He’d had his fun; what more could he possibly want from her?
But Rupert was waiting, agog at the barely sheathed hostility between them. ‘You remember Hugo Griffin, Rupert? He called in at Mustique with my godmother,’ she said, as if it meant nothing more than introducing someone at a cocktail party, determined that Griff should never know how much he had hurt her. ‘But Griff will do,’ Maddy added cuttingly, and then wished she hadn’t as he turned to face her and raised a brow in a tiny acknowledgement that her barb had found its mark and would be repaid with interest. ‘Rupert and I are flying home together,’ she said.
Something happened to Griff’s eyes. The green became a slatey grey and despite the fact that there was not the slightest change in his expression the tightening of his grasp upon her fingers betrayed how much effort it took to keep his feelings under close restraint.
The knowledge went to her head like a rocket and she added, ‘You’ll recall that he asked me to marry him.’
Out of the corner of her eye, Maddy saw Rupert stiffen and hated herself for using him. But he didn’t let her down. ‘As soon as you say the word, old thing...’
‘Covering all your options, Maddy?’ Griff asked softly, and her whole body gave a little jerk as she realised what he was implying. ‘But then the full moon is notoriously fecund.’
The gasp stuck in her throat
Did he truly believe her capable of foisting another man’s child on poor, unsuspecting Rupert? And yet, if he thought that, he would surely never bother her again. He would leave her alone to try and put her life back together, relieved no doubt to be rid of any responsibility.
For a long moment he regarded her, his eyes scouring her face, ransacking her mind to discover the truth. She kept her face quite blank, walled up her heart against him.
‘Don’t even consider it, Maddy. I’ll not allow another man to bring up a child that I have fathered.’
He wouldn’t allow? What the Dragon Man wanted, he took? ‘What will you do, Griff?’ she demanded. ‘Breathe fire?’
He didn’t answer, but removed the signet ring from his little finger and, taking her left hand firmly in his, slipped it onto her third finger and held it there. There was a terrifying finality about the gesture.
‘Take it back,’ she said, panic-stricken. ‘I don’t want it.’ But when she tugged at the ring it wouldn’t budge. ‘It won’t come off.’
‘Anxiety makes the body swell,’ he advised her. ‘That’s why small boys get their heads stuck in railings.’
‘Then I’ll summon the fire brigade and get it cut off,’ she threw at him, a little wildly.
‘No, you won’t, Maddy. You took a huge leap of faith when you gave yourself to me.’
‘And you are the dragon man…’
‘I am your destiny.’
Maddy felt herself being swept away on a rising tide of panic and she had to put a stop to it, do something before she did something really stupid like throw herself into his arms.
‘If you don’t go this minute and leave me alone, Griff, I’ll scream,’ she said very quietly. ‘You were very impressed with my scream. It was convincing...you said.’
For a moment he continued to challenge her, then, accepting the reality of her threat, he rose to his feet. ‘You have a scream that could cause a riot. Not wise at thirty thousand feet. I like flying with this airline.’ He reached into the overhead locker for a blanket and draped it around her, tucking it in as if she were a child. Then he touched her cheek gently. ‘You look tired, Maddy; try and get some sleep. I’ll have a car waiting when we land. Once we’re on the ground you can scream all you like, I promise.’ He straightened, nodded briefly to Rupert and walked away, found a seat somewhere behind them where, thankfully, she couldn’t see the way his hair curled into his neck, or the beautiful shape of his ear
A little sob escaped her lips.
‘Maddy?’ Rupert asked as he resumed his seat, his voice so gentle that she flinched
.
‘Don’t!’ she begged, and beneath the blanket she gave a little tug at the ring that was a shackle holding her fast to the dragon man. It stubbornly refused to budge. Her stupid trick finger wouldn’t let it go. ‘Don’t be kind.’
The stewardess returned with their drinks. ‘Ah, you have all sorted out the problem with the seats? That’s good.’
Maddy’s glass rattled against her teeth as she swallowed her drink and she was grateful — deeply grateful — that Rupert chose not to say anything. Later, she would try to explain. Later. But the tears were rolling down her cheeks and Rupert put his arm around her and drew her onto his shoulder.
‘Maddy, love...’
She was weeping silently into his lapel. ‘I’m sorry, so sorry to have involved you in that.’
‘Don’t fret. I’m sure it’ll all sort itself out... and if it doesn’t, if you really wanted me to marry you I dare say I could force myself,’ he said, passing her his handkerchief with an encouraging smile. ‘No matter what Griffin says.’
‘Please, don’t,’ she wailed unhappily into the soft linen. ‘I couldn’t feel any worse.’ But as the hours passed and they drew closer to their destination, she did feel a great deal worse. When she went to freshen up the fact that Griff was stretched out in his seat in the relaxed posture of someone deeply asleep did nothing to set her mind at rest. It suggested total confidence that he had everything under control.
‘He can’t make you go with him,’ Rupert insisted. ‘I’ll take you home. Or wherever you want to go. You could stay with my mother if you like.’ She shook her head, but when Rupert stood up she asked nervously, ‘Where are you going?’
He smiled a trifle absently. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be back in a moment.’ When he returned to his seat beside her a few minutes later he would not be drawn, but when the plane taxied to a standstill, the stewardess, all concern, ushered Maddy to the exit ahead of the other passengers.
‘How did you manage that?’ Maddy demanded.
‘I told her you were on your way to a clinic for a life-saving operation.’
‘She believed you?’
‘Next time you pass a mirror, Maddy, look in it. You’re so white under that tan that you look as if you’re about to suffer from liver failure.’
‘Oh.’ Then, glancing nervously behind her, she added ‘But it won’t help; we’ll have to wait for our luggage.’
But Griff, although hard on their heels as they approached Immigration, didn’t appear in the luggage hall and, having reclaimed their bags, Rupert steered her firmly towards his waiting Rolls.
‘But what could have happened to him?’ Maddy demanded as they were whisked into London.
‘Maybe his passport was out of date. Will you be all right?’ he asked as he dropped her off at her flat.
‘I’ll be fine. I just need a little space and a good night’s sleep.’
‘Well, if you need me, you know where I am.’ He paused, then said, with half a smile at his own foolishness, ‘But you don’t need me, do you, Maddy? You need him.’
CHAPTER NINE
DESPITE a restless night, Maddy decided to go into her office the day after her return. Anything had to be better than sitting at home dreading the ring of the bell in case it was Griff on her doorstep. Anything had to be better than sitting there longing for him to be there.
‘Your holiday doesn’t appear to have done you much good,’ her father said, when he dropped by later that morning. ‘Maybe you picked something up. Better see a doctor.’
‘It’s just jet lag. I didn’t sleep very well last night. How did you know I was back?’
‘Zoë telephoned to make sure you were home safely.’ Maddy felt her entire body jolt. She would have to face Zoë, but right now she didn’t feel strong enough. ‘She said there was some kind of mix-up at the airport?’
‘Mix-up?’
‘Was someone supposed to give you a lift?’ He didn’t wait for her answer, impatient with such trivia. He propped himself on the corner of her desk. ‘So, did you find out what’s going on with Hugo Griffin?’
‘Dad—’
‘He can’t be after her money. He owns an enormous transport company. Air, sea, car hire — you name it.’
‘Yes, I discovered that for myself. Is it sound?’
‘I wish I had a piece of it; the man has a genius for organisation apparently.’ Then he realised that she was serious. ‘Have you heard something?’
‘No. But Zoë gave him a cheque.’ She told him the amount and he whistled. ‘The thing is, I... I’ve got it. I don’t know what to do with it.’
‘How on earth...?’ he began, then apparently thought better of it. ‘Send it back to her. She’s had time for second thoughts; it’s more than most of us get...’ He stood up to leave. ‘Oh, by the way, she wanted me to give you a message. Apparently your phone was off the hook.’
‘I didn’t want to be disturbed. What was the message?’
‘She said to tell you that she’s sorry about what happened, that she’ll explain when she sees you and that you mustn’t, on any account, marry Rupert Hartnoll. For any reason.’ The unasked question hovered in the air.
Sorry?
Maddy felt like laughing at the inadequacy of the word, but it wasn’t Zoë’s fault that she had lost her head in the moonlight.
‘Well, you can tell her not to worry. I’m not going to marry Rupert. I’m not going to marry anyone,’ she added, with a determined set to her jaw, giving the dragon ring a surreptitious twist. To no avail.
‘No?’ Her father tried hard to hide his disappointment. ‘Well, of course, that’s what I told her,’ he said, ‘but she seemed absolutely convinced. I believe the woman’s wits are wandering. She should get married again; it would give her something to occupy her mind.’
‘That’s terribly chauvinist of you, Dad!’
‘Well, that’s me,’ he said. ‘I can’t pretend. What you see is what you get.’
‘Don’t ever change,’ she said, standing up quickly, turning to stare out of the window so he shouldn’t see the tears that suddenly stung her lids.
Her father joined her at the window. ‘I wish you could find someone, Maddy—’ Then, as she took a deep, shuddering breath, he asked, ‘What is it?’ He looked more closely at her. ‘Hey, girl, come and sit down. Whatever is the matter?’ He settled her on the sofa where she conducted informal interviews and poured her a glass of water, but she shook her head. ‘Tell me, sweetheart,’ he said, sitting beside her, taking her hands.
‘It’s difficult.’
‘I’ve never known you to back away from a problem.’
‘Oh, this isn’t like me at all.’ She gathered herself, tried to hold in her mind that moment on the beach when she had recognised a moment of absolute truth, a moment she had promised herself she would never regret. Well, fate, it seemed, was determined to test her to new limits. She tried a smile and found that it wasn’t as bad as she feared. ‘The thing is, I wondered, since you want to be a grandfather so badly, would you mind terribly if I managed it without actually getting married?’
‘That, I take it, is not a hypothetical question?’
‘It’s too soon to be sure.’ And yet she knew, had no doubt that she was already nurturing a tiny life within her. Wanted that life… ‘No,’ she said, with sudden conviction. ‘Not hypothetical.’
‘Was that what Zoë meant? That you shouldn’t marry Rupert just because—’
‘It wasn’t Rupert,’ she said quickly.
‘Are you going to tell me who?’
‘It... it doesn’t matter, not now. He’ll never know.’
‘I see.’ Her father frowned.
‘You don’t think I’m right?’
‘It’s your decision, I suppose, but if it was me…’ He let it go, patted her arm. ‘I’ll be here for you, you know that, I just wish you had your mother to talk to.’ He paused. ‘I had hoped you would see more of her if you decided to go ahead with the Paris office. I suppose t
hat’s on hold?’
‘I hadn’t thought about that, but I suppose so.’ Then she gave his shoulder a little shake. ‘If I have a baby, she won’t be able to keep away. Perhaps it’s a good thing. This way, you’ll get to see more of her too.’
‘Do you think so?’ He covered her hand with his own. ‘Look, you should still be on holiday; why don’t we both go to Paris this afternoon? Maybe, if we can show her how much we need her, we can persuade her to come home with us.’
* * *
Maddy dropped her bag, closed the door of her flat and leaned back against it. It had been wonderful to make her peace with her mother, wonderful to see the spark between her parents rekindled, but it was a relief to be home and be able to stop smiling, stop putting on a brave face for the world.
Her hand was full of mail, mostly Christmas cards she had picked up from her box, and she flicked through them, but there were no envelopes with handwriting she didn’t immediately recognise.
Relief and pain in equal amounts assaulted her. Had he come to the flat while she had been away? Gone away when he realised she wasn’t there, flown back to Paradise? Well, wasn’t that what she wanted? The reason she had so eagerly grasped the escape her father had offered?
She tossed the mail onto the hall table. She would look at it later; first she needed a shower and a cup of tea, in that order.
She was still under the shower when she heard the house phone buzz. She ignored it but it rang again — an urgent little tattoo that demanded attention.
She wrapped herself in a towelling robe and pressed the button. ‘Who is it?’
‘Maddy? It’s me, Zoë. Can I come up?’
Maddy held her breath for a fleeting second, wanting to refuse. But it was nearly Christmas. The season of goodwill. She pressed the front door release, opened her own front door and then retired to wrap her dripping hair in a towel.
She heard the front door close. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute, Zoë,’ she called. ‘Can you put the kettle on? I’ve only just this minute got back from Paris.’ There was no answer, but she heard the water being drawn in the kitchen. She walked back in. ‘Mum came back with us...’
