by Anne Mather
‘I’ll take that,’ said Eliza, without hesitation, and Olivia was only too eager to hurry forward and open the door for her.
The look she and Bella exchanged after the maid had departed was less amicable, but as if determined not to create any more unpleasantness between them, the old lady gestured to the percolator and asked whether she would like a cup.
‘Er—no, thank you.’ Olivia swung the door open again. ‘I—I’ll be on the patio, if—anyone wants me.’ She hesitated. ‘Oh, and by the way, there—er—there’ll be one extra for dinner this evening.’
She allowed the door to swing closed behind her as she finished speaking, so she neither saw nor heard Bella’s reactions. Walking doubtfully across the hall, however, she half expected a peremptory summons, but none came, and she reached the garden room without incident and went through the open french doors.
Thomas was trimming the hedges that sheltered the pool area, and Olivia had a few words with him before going indoors again to collect the daily newspapers. She decided to sit on one of the tapestry-covered couches in the garden room as it was still cool outside, but as she read her way through the Daily Express and the Telegraph, the sun dispelled the haze. It was going to be hot, she thought with satisfaction, and watched the glistening waters of the pool half dreamily.
The sudden splash as an arrow-dark body hit the water startled her, and she sat up in surprise, watching dark arms cleaving through the waves their entry had created. It was Richard. She would have known that dark head anywhere, but she would not have expected him to swim after such an enormous breakfast.
Remaining uncomfortably in her seat, she watched his progress from one end of the pool to the other, not quite knowing what to do. It would be silly to run away, but on the other hand, if she stayed, she was obliged to make some reaction. The most natural thing would be for her to walk outside and speak to him—thank him for the present he had left for her—and realising she would never overcome her fear of Richard by avoiding him, she got determinedly to her feet.
Richard had swum back to the other end of the pool by the time she emerged, and when he saw her he turned on to his back, maintaining a lazy backward crawl.
‘Good morning,’ she said, and even to her ears her voice sounded stiff and formal.
‘Good morning,’ he responded, his mocking expression denoting his awareness of her feelings. ‘Coming in?’
‘Er—not right now, no.’
His eyebrows arched. ‘Going somewhere?’
‘No.’ She shook her head, pushing her hands into the pockets of her denims. ‘I—er—I came to thank you. For the car. I—don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t like it?’ he queried, and she was quick to offer denial.
‘I love it,’ she protested, and then sighed frustratedly when she saw he had only been teasing her. ‘Seriously though, I—I never expected—anything like that.’
Richard shrugged, turning on to his stomach again to swim to the side and vault out of the water. Immediately, he was too close, and she pretended an interest in the falling petals of a magnolia vine to move away from him.
Richard picked up the towel he had dropped on the mosaic surround of the pool, and began drying himself vigorously. His exertion drew Olivia’s eyes, but she avoided his gaze and seated herself rather nervously on the cushions of a rattan lounger. She was wondering how to bring up the subject of Jules’s proposed visit, and she dreaded Richard’s anger when he found out.
She had been staring rather concentratedly at the water, and when she looked up, her eyes dazed by the glare, she saw with surprise that she was alone. Richard had disappeared, and she looked round rather impatiently, wishing she had taken the opportunity to speak to him while she had the chance.
She was still sitting there when he came back, dressed now in jeans and a sweat shirt, his hair still damp and clinging to the nape of his neck.
‘Tennis?’ he asked, and she looked up, somewhat disconcerted.
‘What?’
‘Tennis,’ he repeated, standing over her, tall and disruptive in the tight-fitting clothes.
‘Oh …’ Olivia got shakily to her feet. ‘I—why—I haven’t played this year.’
‘It will do you good, then, won’t it?’ he countered, his lashes shading his expression. ‘Come on. I know about your boy-friend coming here this afternoon, so there’s no need for you to look so worried! Now, can we play tennis, instead of cat-and-mouse?’
Olivia stared at him. ‘Who—who told you?’
‘Does it matter? I know.’ Richard’s eyes narrowed. ‘Smile for me! I didn’t come all this way to see long faces.’
Olivia’s lips quivered. ‘You—you don’t mind?’
‘Let’s say I’m prepared to be generous,’ he remarked dryly. ‘Do you need to change, or will you play in those clothes?’
It was good to get out on the tennis court and confront Richard with action, not words. She had always liked tennis, and she was good at it, due in no small measure to the coaching he had given her since she was a little girl. They had played long and often, and he had always limited his game to suit her inferior strength. This morning however, he exercised no such leniency. He played her off the court, beating her 6–0 set after set, until she threw down her racket in disgust and stormed back to the house. She was hot and sweating, and not at all in the mood to be polite to Alex, seated beside a tray of coffee on the patio.
‘Oh, there you are,’ he said, getting to his feet as she came striding through the yew arch. ‘Miss Ponsonby brought this out a few minutes ago, obviously expecting you and Rich to share it. Can I pour you a cup?’
‘No, I don’t want any.’ Olivia’s teeth ground together, as she saw the file under his arm. ‘Are those papers for Rich to see? Don’t you ever get tired of working, Alex? Don’t you ever just relax?’
Alex was offended and looked it, but Olivia was unrepentant. ‘I was just checking some figures,’ he declared, as she flopped down moodily into the chair beside the one he had been occupying. ‘And I don’t know where Richard is.’
‘He’s following me,’ retorted Olivia, lifting her arms to cradle her head against the back of the chair, aware as she did so that Alex’s eyes were drawn to the fullness of her breasts. Dropping her arms again, she declared: ‘We’ve been playing tennis, or at least I have. I think Richard was fighting the war of independence all over again!’
‘And don’t you hate to lose?’ mocked her stepbrother, sauntering across the patio towards them. Apart from the beading of sweat on his forehead, he seemed unconcerned, and Olivia reflected savagely that he didn’t look particularly in need of a holiday at this moment. ‘Poor Olivia,’ he added, for Alex’s benefit. ‘She’s no Chris Evert.’
Olivia pursed her lips. ‘I’m out of condition,’ she said, as Richard annoyingly took the chair beside her, and he grinned.
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ he murmured, almost inaudibly, and her cheeks flamed as he stretched his long legs out in front of him.
‘Rich and I were playing just last week,’ Alex volunteered, unwilling to sustain any antipathy between them, and Olivia straightened her spine in an aggrieved attitude. ‘A man can always beat a woman,’ he assured her sympathetically, but it was no balm to her indignation.
‘I think I’ll go and take a shower,’ she said, standing up, and Richard resignedly got to his feet.
‘Don’t run the water too hot,’ he remarked ironically, and unable to think of a suitable retort, she made no response.
Nevertheless, she made sure her door was locked before taking off her clothes, and by the time she came downstairs again, lunch was served.
‘What time is this young man coming?’ asked Richard, helping himself to salad from the wooden bowl Bella had offered him, and Olivia forced herself to meet his gaze without flinching.
‘I’m not sure,’ she admitted. ‘Two—maybe three o’clock. We didn’t fix a time.’
Richard nodded, passing the salad bowl to Al
ex, and reaching for the mustard. ‘I presume he knows where we live?’
‘He should,’ cut in Bella shortly. ‘He’s brought Olivia home plenty of times.’
‘Has he?’
Richard looked thoughtful, and Olivia turned indignant eyes on the housekeeper. Why couldn’t Bella mind her own business? It was nothing to do with the old lady who brought her home.
‘Janice Gerrard is coming over,’ she remarked, hoping to divert him. ‘She asked if she could. She—well, she’s a fan of Jules!’
‘Such nonsense!’ Bella sniffed. ‘Her mother should have more sense than to encourage it.’
‘I think Mrs Gerrard has the right attitude!’ exclaimed Olivia angrily. ‘She realises young people have to be allowed to think for themselves.’
‘Janice Gerrard doesn’t have a thought in her head,’ retorted Bella impatiently. ‘She’s just interested in men!’
‘Forget it, Bella.’ To Olivia’s amazement, Richard silenced any further argument. ‘What Janice does or does not do is no concern of ours. I like her. She’s a nice kid.’
Olivia forked a slice of tomato into her mouth. Good for Janice, she thought resentfully. Richard liked her, so Bella was told to lay off. Not so her! Bella could say what she liked and Richard didn’t turn a hair.
She had lost her appetite, and Bella frowned when she saw the amount of food left on her plate. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with you all!’ she declared. ‘First Richard eats next to nothing of that lovely breakfast I prepared for him, and now you leave your lunch!’
‘I’m not hungry,’ said Olivia tightly, daring her to challenge that, and Richard shrugged.
‘I guess it’s the heat, Bella,’ he offered, and Alex chimed in to say that as far as his employer was concerned, the time change was bound to make some difference.
Nevertheless, Olivia couldn’t help feeling surprised that Richard had not eaten his breakfast. Lunch and afternoon tea were served on the flight from New York, and he could have had nothing to eat since the evening of the previous day. She wondered if she was judging him too harshly, whether indeed he was suffering from exhaustion, and hiding it from her. Yet he had just played a blistering game of tennis, and she couldn’t believe he had had anything other than beating her on his mind.
When the meal was over she wandered outside again. After she had had her shower, she had changed into a simple cotton dress, with a smocked bodice beneath narrow straps and a full skirt, and the sun was hot now upon her bare shoulders.
‘Olivia …’ She had not heard Richard behind her, and when he threw an imprisoning arm across her shoulders, she had to steel herself not to draw away. ‘I’m going into Chelmsbury with Alex.’
‘You are?’ Her response was breathy, governed by her traitorous emotions, and he nodded in complacent understanding.
‘Yes. I thought you’d prefer to greet Merignac without our audience. Besides,’ he paused, ‘he’s your guest, not mine!’
Olivia could not have been more astounded. Richard was actually considering her feelings! She could hardly believe it.
A little of her astonishment must have shown in her face, because he pulled her closer to him for a moment, saying disruptively: ‘Don’t look so shocked, I’m only loaning you to him. If I thought there was any danger of you becoming seriously involved, I shouldn’t be so generous, believe me!’
‘What do you mean?’
The words were wrung from her, and he bent his head to tease her mouth with his own. ‘Do you want a demonstration?’ he demanded, in thickening tones, and her limbs started their uncontrollable trembling.
‘You—you shouldn’t do this,’ she protested, twisting her face away from him, and his lips trailed caressingly along the curve of her jawline instead.
‘Why not?’ he asked, one hand sliding beneath her arm to cup the ripe fullness of her breast. ‘I told you—you’re mine. You always have been, only you never realised it before.’
‘You—you have no right——’ she choked, as his fingers found the hardening point of her nipple, but his low laugh was triumphant.
‘I don’t think your body agrees with you,’ he retorted, his own breathing quickening in spite of himself, and with a muffled oath, he set her free. ‘I’ll be back in a couple of hours,’ he added harshly, and after raising her resisting fingers to his lips, he left her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JULES climbed, dripping, out of the pool, and came to stand beside the air-bed Olivia was occupying. She was smoothing a screening lotion over her arms, but she looked up at him enquiringly as he continued to watch her, and his lips parted in a caressing smile.
‘I could do that for you,’ he suggested, squatting down beside her, but she shook her head when he reached for the bottle.
‘You’re wet,’ she protested. ‘You can get me a can of Coke, if you like. I’m longing for a drink.’
Jules grimaced, but he rose obediently to his feet and went to get an iced can from the refrigerated trolley Bella had unwillingly wheeled out for them. He collected a can of lager for himself, and then came back to her, tearing off the metal ring.
‘Do you wish a glass?’
‘No, I can manage.’ Olivia took the Coke from him and raised it eagerly to her lips. ‘Mmm, that’s gorgeous!’ she added, wiping drips of the sticky liquid from her chin. ‘It’s so hot!’
Jules nodded, and squatted down beside her again, his face very close to hers as she looked at him. There was a seriousness about his expression which she had not seen before, and she shifted a trifle awkwardly beneath his gaze, loath to identify what she could see in his eyes.
‘Olivia,’ he said, and her lips parted expectantly. ‘Olivia, I want to talk to you.’
‘You do?’ She strove to keep her tone light. ‘What about?’
‘Us.’ Jules edged his way on to the air-bed, and she moved over a little to allow his weight to come down beside her. ‘You and me, Olivia. And what we are going to do.’
Olivia set the can of Coke aside, screwed the lid on to the screening lotion, and moved her shoulders in a dismissing gesture. ‘Do?’ she said, glancing sideways at him. ‘I don’t know what you mean. We’re going to spend the rest of the afternoon here, and then, when—when my stepbrother comes back, we’ll have dinner.’
Jules let her finish, but his expression mirrored his contemplative mood. He was staring straight ahead of him, brooding on some point in the middle distance, then when she stopped speaking he turned to look at her.
‘I do not mean now—this minute—this week even,’ he declared evenly. ‘I mean—I have to return to France in four days’ time. And I want you to come with me.’
‘What!’ Olivia was astonished.
‘I mean it.’ Jules did not give her time to protest. ‘This last week, it has been—good for me. I know it. I work well when you are around. You have become a very necessary distraction to me, Olivia.’
Olivia shook her head helplessly. ‘Jules, I’ve enjoyed being with you, too, but—I can’t come to France with you!’
‘Why not?’
‘Why not?’ She looked about her distractedly. ‘Why, because I can’t. Because my home is here. Because—because I intend to get a job, and be independent …’
Jules gazed at her passionately. ‘I do not think you understand,’ he murmured, putting his can of lager aside to grip her upper arm with caressing fingers. ‘What I am offering you is a job, a lifetime job. I want you to marry me.’
‘To marry you!’ Olivia gulped, and shook her head. ‘Oh, Jules——’
‘Please.’ He put a silencing finger to her lips. ‘Do not speak too hastily. Listen to what I have to say. I love you—you know I do. Have I not proved it? Do you know you are the first girl I have not slept with on the second or third date? Do you think this is normal practice for me? I assure you, it is not. But you are—how shall I say?—so sweet—so beautiful—so adorable! I did not want to hurt you. I did not want to lose you. I respect you, and I want you to be my
wife.’
Olivia clasped her hands together tightly. ‘Jules, we’ve only known one another for two or three weeks! These things can’t be decided so quickly.’
‘Pourquoi? I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, at Lucie’s party. I knew then that I would have to have you. But I respect your feelings, and I want to marry you.’
Olivia glanced rather apprehensively towards the house. She was unutterably relieved that Richard was not around to overhear their conversation. She dared not contemplate his reactions to Jules’s proposal.
‘You can’t marry someone just because you want to go to bed with them,’ she said now, trying to be reasonable, but Jules refused to be diverted.
‘Did I say that was why I wanted to marry you?’ he demanded. ‘Did I not tell you I love you? Therefore I want to marry you.’
Olivia bent her head, smoothing her palms along her updrawn legs. ‘It’s very flattering, of course, but——’
‘Flattering? Flattering? What is this flattering? Olivia, petite,’ he kissed the tips of his fingers in an extravagant gesture, ‘you would flatter me if you would say yes.’
Olivia allowed a tentative smile to touch her lips. ‘Thank you.’
‘Non, I mean it.’ And he really sounded as if he did. ‘Olivia, what can I say to make you believe me? We have known one another a short time, that is true, but time is not important in les affaires de coeur!’
Olivia’s fingers curled round her ankles. ‘I—I don’t think I’m ready for marriage yet, Jules.’
He sighed. ‘How do you know?’ He caught her chin in his grasp. ‘You care for me, just a little, non?’
Olivia hesitated. ‘I—I like you a lot.’
‘You see!’
‘But I don’t know if I love you.’
‘I could show you that you do,’ he whispered huskily.
Olivia pulled her chin away. ‘By going to bed with me, I suppose,’ she said flatly.
