Laura laughed as she imagined him sitting on the rug all alone indoors, surrounded by food. "It's a good thing I came, then."
"Yes. I'm glad you did." Daniel was serious all of a sudden. "Laura, I'm so sorry about this afternoon. I should never have spoken to you the way I did." He sighed. "I know it's no excuse, but it's just the way I've been lately. The business is growing so fast, I've hardly had time to breathe. I guess it makes me impatient. I'm used to having to make snap decisions and judgements." He shrugged. "I'm not always right."
"No, you're not." But she decided to take his apology at face value. He looked tired, and she put her hand on his arm. "What you need is a holiday. Maybe you should book one with Stone Brothers."
He rolled his eyes. "No, thank you. My idea of a holiday is to sit at home for two weeks without going near a train, plane, or hotel." He started to pass her the food, and Laura helped herself. "Unfortunately, I'm up to my eyes for quite a while yet."
"Are you sure you can't you employ someone else?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I'm coming round to the idea that I'd like to," he said. "That I need to. But first I have to find the time to actually sit down and discuss it with Ben."
"I had an idea about that," she said cautiously.
"Oh?"
"I don't want to interfere."
He patted her knee. "You're not interfering, you're expressing an opinion, which you're not usually so shy about. Come on, out with it."
"Well, I was thinking about Becky," she told him. "You said she had to give up her job to care for the boys full time. I was wondering if it might give her a break if the company could find some way of paying for one-to-one care for them for a few hours a day, or maybe a day or two a week, while Becky helped out at Stone Brothers. It might give her a rest from them and be a change for her." She shrugged. "I know it won't help with all your travelling," she went on, unsure as to whether she should have said anything. "But it might be good for Becky, and for Ben."
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "It's certainly a thought," he mused out loud. "A good one. I could talk to Ben about it." He smiled. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, enjoying the delicious picnic and gazing out over the town beyond the tree-covered hillside. It was getting dark and lights were coming on, giving the view a magical quality. The dark bulk of the Santa Luzia basilica loomed behind them with its huge round windows and dome. Apart from the odd couple out for a walk, there were few people around.
Content after her supper, Laura accepted the coffee Daniel held out to her. Warming her fingers on the cup, she shivered a little.
"Are you cold?" he asked. "I have a spare sweater in the car."
Laura was about to shake her head—she was only slightly chilled—but she stopped herself. The idea of snuggling into an oversized sweater of Daniel's was too appealing.
He fetched it for her, and she tugged it on. "Better?"
"Mmm. Better." Breathing in Daniel's scent from the fabric, Laura gazed out across the town. "I love this place," she murmured.
"Maybe you ought to consider a move out here."
She laughed. "I told you before—I'm not sure I want to throw in a good job with security for a pie-in-the-sky dream."
Daniel reached out to stroke her hair, and Laura thought her heart would thump right out of her chest at his touch.
"Don't you ever do anything reckless, Laura? Take a chance?" His voice was low, husky, and she sensed that the direction behind his words had subtly altered.
She shook her head. "No, never." Except I fell in love with you, and I couldn't get more reckless than that!
"Perhaps you should try it." He took her coffee from her and pulled her close, circling one arm around her shoulders and twining his fingers in her hair. Slowly, his mouth met hers and he whispered her name against her lips before kissing her oh-so-gently, his breath hitching as the kiss deepened.
Laura twined her arms around his neck and pressed close. Don't do this! her common sense screamed at her. It will only make it worse when he goes! But that voice of reason was drowned out by the longing that swamped her and drove her on until she could barely breathe.
"We agreed to be just friends," she reminded him.
Daniel ran his mouth down her neck to her throat, until she thought the pulse there would beat right out of her skin. "Agreements get broken. It happens in business all the time."
"But this isn't business!" she protested feebly.
"You're right, it isn't. Shut up." His mouth met hers again to perform the task, and she did as she was told. She couldn't do any other. She couldn't speak; she couldn't think. His kisses blocked out all rational thought.
Finally, he pulled away, shaking his head as though to clear it.
"What's wrong?"
He planted a light kiss on her nose and inclined his head towards a couple walking hand in hand down the nearby road. He must have heard their footsteps and for modesty's sake broken their kiss—although how he'd heard anything if his heartbeat was thumping as loud in his ears as Laura's was in hers, she had no idea.
"Time to go," he said quietly.
Laura nodded and allowed him to pull her to her feet. They packed up the picnic things and took everything to the car. She had no idea what had just happened. Had he broken their kiss because they had company? Or because he was already regretting it? Her head spun, swamped with conflicting feelings. This was the man she loved, but he didn't love her back. All she had to take home with her was the memory of a few kisses, to dust off from time to time when she was back in the routine of her own life.
The drive back was silent, and when they had parked and walked down to their rooms, he stared at her for a long time before taking her face in his hands for one last, lingering kiss. When he pulled away, the regret was clear in his eyes.
"Laura, I'm going to say goodnight."
A small sound of distress escaped from her throat, and she closed her eyes as she fought for control.
Daniel swore softly. "Laura, look at me."
Obediently she opened her eyes, willing the gathering tears not to fall in front of him. Daniel seemed to be fighting his own battles as he searched for the right words.
"There is nothing I would like more than to invite you into my room tonight," he told her. "But I'm not going to. I don't want you to be a one-night stand. It wouldn't be fair on you." He smiled wryly. "Or on me, actually. You and I have become good friends—finally. I don't want to spoil that." He ran his hands over tired eyes. "You deserve something more. You're kind and loyal and you should be with someone special. Someone who might be around for more than five minutes at a time. I couldn't be that person even if I wanted to be."
He traced his thumb across her cheek, placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, and went into his room, closing the door softly behind him.
Laura stood for a long time, shivering, until she realised she was still wearing Daniel's sweater. Hugging it close, she let herself into her own room and sat on the edge of the bed, numb with misery. Daniel's parting words had been kind and tender, his intentions admirable, but they still boiled down to a rejection.
The tears that had threatened outside were unstoppable now. Laura sobbed until she was exhausted enough to sleep.
****
Woken by the shrill sound of her alarm clock, she struggled to open her eyes. For a moment, her mind remained happily ignorant of yesterday's dramas. For a moment. And then it cruelly replayed the day on fast-forward. Arguments, recriminations. The knowledge she was in love with a man who had no intention of being in love with anyone. Reconciliation. A farewell kiss.
She shuffled to the door and glanced up the path to the car park, but the sinking feeling that had pervaded her whole body as she woke had already told her what she would see. Daniel's car was gone, and Laura knew he wouldn't be coming back.
Feeling lonelier than she had ever felt in her life, she headed for the bathroom. Shocked at the miserable
image that stared back at her from the mirror, she forced herself to shower and dress, and carefully applied more makeup than usual to mask her swollen eyes and tear-stained face.
And then she straightened her spine. There would be no more tears. What was the use of crying over a man who didn't care for her the way she cared for him?
When she reached reception, a large bunch of roses rested on the doorstep. Where they could have come from at this hour, she had no idea. Carrying them inside and placing them on the desk, she opened the accompanying card with shaking fingers.
"I'm not avoiding you—honest. I have a meeting in Porto. Besides, I'm no good at goodbyes. Daniel."
Laura stared at the note until the words blurred through the tears pricking at her eyes. So, he had a valid excuse for his early departure, but what did that mean, he was "no good at goodbyes"? Was there a chance he found it painful to say goodbye to her? Or did he only mean it was an embarrassing situation, best avoided? She would never know. Nor did it matter, because whichever way she looked at it, it was still goodbye, and it was as final as it could be.
Laura sank down at the desk and brushed furiously at the tears rolling down her cheeks. She had promised herself she wouldn't cry again, but she hadn't bargained for feeling so utterly wretched. And somehow, she knew there would be many more tears to come.
Chapter Twenty-One
Laura wearily stacked the pile of exercise books to mark and hoisted them into her arms, peering over the top as she headed out of the building and across the school car park. Throwing everything onto the back seat of her car, she was about to climb in when she heard a shout. She turned to see Jean, her head of department, running to catch up with her.
"Hello, Jean. Is anything the matter?" she asked, a smile plastered on her face—something she'd been doing for weeks now to the detriment of her overstrained facial muscles.
Jean frowned. "I was going to ask you the same thing. I've been trying to catch you alone for days!"
Warily, Laura asked, "How do you mean?"
The other woman sighed. "Look, Laura, you can tell me it's none of my business, but I can't help noticing you've not been yourself since the new term started. It's not that you're not doing your job well or anything like that – quite the opposite, as usual. But you look awfully tired, and I'm worried about you. Are you ill or something?"
Or something. Laura shook her head. "No, Jean, I'm fine. Please don't worry about me. I'm sure it's just the same old story – all work and no play, or however it goes."
Jean nodded. "Well, alright. I don't want to interfere, but please promise me you'll take more care of yourself?"
"I promise. Have a good weekend, Jean."
Laura watched her walk away before climbing behind the wheel. Her reflection in the driver's mirror did nothing to cheer her, but she'd grown used to seeing the pale complexion and dark circles under dull eyes staring back at her. It wasn't hard to see why Jean was worried.
With a sigh, she set off home. She was growing tired of reassuring everyone she was fine. She was about as far removed from fine as she could be. Three weeks into the autumn term and she seemed to be getting worse, not better. It felt like years since she was in Portugal.
Her week there after Daniel left had flown by in a sort of numb haze. There was another wedding to get through the day after he went, and Paulo and Rachel had returned that night. Laura was kept mercifully busy catching up with their news and updating them, although that, of course, involved telling them about Daniel and his potential business. It had been so hard discussing him without giving her feelings away. Maria had watched her like a hawk, and Laura suspected she wasn't easily fooled. Rachel, too, had sensed something was wrong, but she managed to convince her she was just a little run-down and her holiday was doing her the world of good.
Laura winced. She wished she'd never gone there this summer, never met Daniel—but it was too late for that. She had met him, she'd fallen in love with him, and now she was paying the price.
Daniel had never said he would be in touch, and sure enough he hadn't been. He'd never promised her anything. But her naïve assumption that thoughts of him would fade as time passed—that if she threw herself wholeheartedly into her life and work back home she would soon forget him—had long since gone. Lately he seemed to enter her thoughts, unbidden, at the slightest opportunity. She hated what this was doing to her; hated not being in charge of her own emotions. She'd never been that way before. But then she'd never been in love before.
Loaded down with books, Laura let herself into her flat and threw them on the sofa so she could riffle through the post.
Bills, junk mail . . . and a postcard from Viana do Castelo. Hurriedly, she flipped it over. It was from Teresa. It seemed Daniel and Paulo had struck an amicable deal last week in Portugal, and both Paulo and Rachel passed on their gratitude for all her help. Teresa finished in her inimitable teenage manner, "Aren't you missing Mr. Stone's handsome face, Laura? I am!"
Laura filled the kettle, in need of a cup of tea. If only they knew how much that deal had cost her . . .
A knock at the door made her jump, but when she opened it to find her big brother standing there, she shrieked in genuine delight and threw her arms around him.
"Steve! What a lovely surprise!"
"Hello, little sis. How are you?"
"I'm fine," she lied, well-practised at it. "Do you want a cup of tea? I was just making one."
"Okay." He followed her through to the kitchen. "For crying out loud, what happened to you?"
Not daring to face him, Laura fumbled in the cupboard for tea bags. "What do you mean?"
"I mean the way your clothes hang off you like that. Have you lost weight?"
"A little." She shrugged casually and changed the subject. "So, what are you doing here? I haven't seen you for ages. Since before I went away, wasn't it?"
He nodded and took the hot mug she offered him. "Thanks. I . . . er . . . I came partly because I have an announcement to make, actually." He loosened his tie and nervously cleared his throat. "Better get it over and done with. I'm getting married."
Laura's jaw dropped and she struggled to hang on to the mug she was holding. "Married! Who on earth to?"
"A woman called Clare. I met her at work a few months ago."
"But I didn't even know you were going out with anyone!" Laura said, unable to hide the accusatory tone in her voice. Steve always shared everything with her!
"I know. I'm sorry. I wanted to keep it to myself for a while." He winced at her hurt expression. "Laura, you know as well as I do that being a bachelor had become a sort of religion for me. For both you and me. But then I met Clare and everything changed. I've never felt this way before. Everything seemed to be going so well, I didn't want to rock the boat. It was as though going public might jinx it or something."
He sipped his tea. "I've wasted too many years shutting myself off from relationships, keeping people at a distance, all because of what Dad did." He shook his head. "The trouble with trying to avoid getting hurt is that you don't get to enjoy the good bits either." He smiled sheepishly. "I knew the minute I met her that Clare was the girl for me."
Laura spluttered over her tea. "Don't you start with all that love-at-first-sight stuff," she tried to joke.
She felt a little ill. She and her brother had been in this together—it was a kind of family creed, never getting close to anyone, using their father's defection as proof they were doing the right thing . . . and never seeing the relationships that did work, the couples that stayed together. Rachel and Paulo. Maria and her husband.
"Are you alright?" Steve's voice cut across her thoughts. "You're rather pale. I know it's a bit sudden, my getting married and everything, but . . ."
Laura fixed a happy expression on her face, although of all the people in the world, Steve was the one person she doubted she could ever fool.
"I'm fine, of course I am. And I'm thrilled. It's such a surprise, that's all." She kissed him on t
he cheek. "So, when do I get to meet this love of your life?"
Steve beamed, his face lit by a happiness that took her breath away. "Next week, maybe? I'll arrange for us to go out for a meal." He pointed at her waistline. "You could do with one. You're going to love her, I promise."
"I'm sure I will. I'll look forward to it."
Steve headed for the door then stopped, suddenly awkward, shifting from foot to foot.
"Your mother's worried sick about you. You've hardly visited, and you won't admit anything's wrong when she asks. She says it's ever since you got back from Portugal. I didn't believe her, but I do now—I can see it with my own eyes. Were you ill out there? Or has something happened?"
Defiantly, she shrugged. "I'm just a little run-down with the start of term and everything."
"Come on, Laura, you can't fool me and you know it. Tell me. Please."
"There's nothing to tell," she insisted stubbornly.
Seeing he wasn't getting anywhere, Steve took a different tack. "It's not anything to do with this Stone character, is it?"
"How do you know about him?" Laura's voice was too quick, too sharp.
Steve pointed to the postcard on the desk. "I'm nosy. I read it while you were making the tea." His expression was triumphant as Laura paled. "It is him, isn't it?"
She shook her head. "No, Steve. Mr. Stone was just a guest at the hotel. He owns a travel company and wanted to do business with Paulo. Teresa has an active teenage imagination and she had a crush on him, so she assumed I must have, too. Don't read any more into it than that." Weary of defending herself against his brotherly onslaught, she tried to change the subject. "I'm so pleased at your news, and I can't wait to meet Clare."
"I can take a hint. I'll go, but I don't believe a word." Steve opened the door. "I think you fell in love and it all went wrong and it hurts." He cupped her chin in his hand. "Don't shut yourself in here forever, Laura. If he's worth it, go after him. If not, well . . . being a hermit doesn't solve anything. It's just a waste of time. Believe me, I know." He stepped out. "Take care. And call me if you decide you want to talk."
Holding Back Page 18
