Roberta Leigh - Love in Store

by Roberta Leigh

  "Are you hurt?"

  "My leg," she mumbled.

  He bent toward it. His lids were lowered over his eyes but when he raised them she saw silver sparks in the grayness.

  "You've broken the skin. You had better go to First Aid."

  "But the parcel—"

  "I'll deal with that."

  Shakily she rose.

  "Can you manage on your own?" he asked abruptly.

  "Yes, thank you. But the parcel is an urgent delivery and—"

  "Stop worrying about it! I said I would deal with it. Now do stop bleeding all over the corridor and go and see the nurse."

  Feeling foolish, Samantha limped to the service lift.

  "The nurse is on the top floor," he called after her. "When you get out of the elevator, take the first corridor on your left. She is in the room at the end."

  Samantha nodded and was glad when the elevator doors closed her from his sight. Only then did she raise her leg to get a better look at it. There was a long jagged piece of broken skin and the area around it was already turning blue. It looked as painful as it felt and she was annoyed at how matter-of-fact Zachary Farrell had been about it. A shaky sigh escaped her. Considering they had been going at each other hammer and tongs only a moment before, it was foolish of her to expect him to show much sympathy. If it had been Marie Bergerac who had fallen on the steps…

  Somehow she could not imagine the curvaceous French girl doing anything so ungainly and once again she was annoyed with herself for being so clumsy. There was something about Zachary that put her on edge.

  "Nothing to worry about," the nurse said after bathing her leg and putting a bandage on it. "It will throb a bit, but it doesn't need any stitches."

  The telephone rang on her desk and she answered it, then held out the receiver.

  "Mr. Farrell," she mouthed.

  Wondering how Larry had got to hear she had hurt herself, Samantha said a surprised, "Hello," and was even more surprised to hear the deep voice that answered her.

  "I have arranged for you to go home," Zachary said. "The commissionaire has a taxi waiting."

  "I'm not ill."

  "Just ill-tempered," he rejoined, and put down the telephone before she could think of a suitable reply.

  Driving home in a taxi a short while later, she mused on this latest example of Zachary Farrell's behavior. It was the first gesture of friendliness he had shown toward her, which made her rather reluctantly admit that she had not displayed any to him either. Equally important, she had shown a predisposition for his cousin's company and, because of it, could not blame Zachary for believing she would side with Larry on any crucial point. She was always telling him she was unbiased yet her behavior belied her words. If she wanted to establish any friendship with the older Farrell cousin she would have to make her impartiality clearer. The best way of doing that was to see less of Larry, or to see more of Zachary. The very idea was laughable. He was totally occupied with Marie Bergerac. Remembering his financial generosity she was almost inclined to believe he was hopelessly enmeshed by the girl. Samantha's hair bounced as she shook her head. Zachary Farrell was too much in control of himself to be enmeshed by anyone. But if this was his character then he would never fall in love and his marriage—when he finally decided on it—would be a hard- headed decision. It was a saddening thought and she pushed it away from her. Zachary Farrell's private life was private and must remain so.

  For the next ten days Samantha lived up to her determination to act impartially to both the Farrell men. Since she was barely on speaking terms with Zachary it put some strain on her relationship with Larry, and she was obliged to refuse his next three invitations to go out with him. Each time she found a different excuse but she knew he was not fooled by it, and when he asked her for the fourth occasion, she could no longer find a valid reason for saying no.

  "I was beginning to think there was something wrong with me," he said plaintively as he drove her toward their favorite restaurant.

  "You aren't the only fish in my little pond," she teased.

  "I wish I were. I'm crazy about you."

  "I'm crazy about me, too."

  "Can't you be serious, Samantha?"

  "Not over you," she said firmly. "If you can't accept—"

  "Okay," he interrupted. "I'll accept that fact. But temporarily only. One day I'll make you forget your neutrality."

  She refused to rise to the bait and instead asked him to tell her about the annual staff party which was being held at Zachary's home the following Saturday.

  "It gives him a chance to play the king," Larry shrugged. "Welcoming the commoners to his home and all that.

  "I'm sure it would be far less bother for him if we had the party at a hotel in London. Zack says the staff love to come to the country."

  "Maybe they do," she replied. "A day in someone's country home is less impartial than an evening in a hotel."

  "Have you been talking to Zack about it?"

  "Of course not. What makes you think I have?"

  "Because those are the same words he used."

  Larry looked so disgruntled by what she had said that she tried to restore his humor in the only way she knew how. "Will you be free to drive me down on the Saturday?"

  If anything, this question made him more unhappy. "Unfortunately not. Zack expects me to get there on Friday to help with the arrangements. It's a waste of time actually—he has everything catered—but he does it deliberately to try and give me a sense of duty. He can't understand why I don't feel as paternalistic about Farrell's as he does."

  Samantha remained silent. Did Larry but know it, he was nudging her sympathies in Zachary's direction. It was a disquieting admission and she was afraid of it.

  "Why don't you come down for the weekend with me?" Larry broke into her thoughts. "I'm sure Zack wouldn't mind."

  "I'm sure he would. I'll be happier just coming for the day. I'll try and get a lift from Madame Vonet. We've become quite friendly."

  "She has her eye on the main chance. She wants to expand her department and now she knows who you are…"

  "I agree with all she wants to do," Samantha said coolly. "I've already told her so."

  "If you want my vote on it at the next meeting," Larry said, "just give me the word. You're so adorable I'll agree to anything you ask me."

  "Does the opposite apply, too?"

  "Come again?" he asked, not understanding her.

  "If you didn't find me adorable, would you disagree with what I asked you to do, even if it was a good idea?"

  "What a nasty question! I refuse to answer it on the grounds that it would incriminate me!"

  She smiled but only with her lips. She was beginning to see why Zachary was uneasy at having her in such a key position. Any persuasive person could talk Larry into doing what they wanted—particularly if she was female and pretty—and if she herself were unscrupulous, she could get Larry to go along with any scheme she wanted. More than ever, she failed to understand why Uncle John had not seen Larry's failings. Or had he been worried lest Zachary— left to himself—would become too much of a dictator?

  "I'm not sure if I want to come to the party," she said aloud. "Zachary and I aren't friends and I'll feel uncomfortable in his home."

  "It was Uncle John's home before it was his," Larry said. "You used to like going there. Anyway, it will look odd if you don't come."

  "Why? None of the staff know who I really am—apart from Madame Vonet."

  "They'll find out sooner or later."

  "How?"

  "When you decide what you want to do with your shares. If you keep them, you will have to take an active part in the company, and if you sell them, you're bound to hit the headlines." His eyes narrowed. "Do you know what those shares would be worth on the open market if you sold them?"

  "They're not mine to sell," she said promptly. "I'm holding them in trust."

  "For whom?"

  "Uncle John." She saw his face fall, though he was quick
to recover.

  "You're an honest girl, Samantha. As honest as you are beautiful." One hand lifted from the wheel and clasped hers. "I will expect to see you at Cramdene," he said. "If only to annoy Marie!"

  "I hadn't realized she'd be there." Samantha was dismayed at the prospect of seeing the French girl. "Does she work?"

  "Only at keeping Zachary happy." Larry flung her an amused glance and, seeing her expression, thought better of what he had been about to say. His next remark was innocuous and for the rest of the evening they steered clear of anything to do with the store or the people who ran it. Only when he deposited her outside her front door, did he again ask her to consider coming down for the weekend and, when she refused, gave her an overly warm good-night kiss, as if to establish that whether she wanted it or not, he regarded her as more than a friend.

  "I could go overboard for you," he said huskily.

  "You might drown."

  "What a lovely way to die!"

  She was still smiling as she let herself into the hall. Larry deserved full marks for his exit line. What he lacked in strength of character he made up for in charm. It would be easy for a girl to lose her head over him. In a way it was a pity that she couldn't, for he would make an amusing companion. But she wanted more than a man who would amuse her. She wanted someone with strength and determination; a man she could not rule and one who would not want to rule her either.

  That night she found it difficult to sleep and, rather than lie wakeful in bed, she went back into the living room and wrote a long letter to her mother.

  "I wish I were bade with you in Ireland," she concluded. "London life isn't for me. I find it too noisy, too smelly, and too hectic. But the cousins still fascinate me and I am treading a careful path between them. One day there is bound to be an almighty explosion between them and I'm doing my best to stave it off for as long as possible. But if Zachary tries to push ahead with his plan to build an annex, the eruption may come sooner than I want."

  She ceased writing and nursed her wrist for a moment, before continuing.

  "You see, the other directors are now willing to vote Zachary the money he needs for the building, but they can't do it if Larry votes against it—unless I side with Zachary, of course. It's frightening to think what power my small number of shares gives me."

  Once more she set down her pen, pondering as she had frequently done in the past weeks, on why Larry should be so much against his cousin's wish to expand. It was unlike him to be cautious, particularly when he knew all the Board wished to go ahead.

  "The time isn't ripe for us to get bigger," he had said on the last occasion she had broached the subject to him.

  He had gone on to give various reasons to substantiate his opinion but she had not believed any of them. Yet neither had she been able to find any other, deeper reason he might have for trying to thwart his cousin. Yet if she sided with Zachary no one could thwart him. It was a power she wished she did not have.

  She picked up her pen once more, but the impetus to write had gone and she closed the cap and set it on the pad. Yawning like a kitten, she went back to bed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The day of the garden party dawned perfectly and, more than ever, Samantha longed for the soft, green fields of Ireland and a sky that was rain-washed and clean. Here, the blue was always faintly tinged with exhaust fumes and no sharp breeze could clear the lead-polluted air. But once she and Madame Vonet neared Cramdene Lodge the atmosphere brightened considerably and, by the time they drove through the village of Cramdene itself, she could almost smell the sea.

  Zachary's house was little changed from when she had last been there as a child, though there was no Uncle John coming down the side steps to greet her, and she had no desire to fling herself into the arms of the black-haired man who stood so calmly greeting the people who laughingly tumbled from the buses and cars.

  In casual sports clothes he still exuded the aura of a business executive, though he went out of his way to see that everyone had deck chairs on which to sit or knew where the pool was if they wished to swim. Larry, equally casual in denim, joined Samantha some quarter of an hour after she had arrived, and apologized profusely for the delay.

  "Zack insists I personally settle all the middle- aged females," he grumbled. "He'd have me sit with them all day, if he could."

  "An excellent idea," she told him. "You'd do wonders for their ego."

  "They'd do nothing for mine!" He eyed her lemon pique dress with approval. "You look like a lemon sorbet."

  "But no licking!" she giggled and let him link his arm through hers as they wandered across the lawn.

  "I hope you've brought your swimsuit?" he asked.

  She shook her head. "I didn't know there was a pool here."

  "Zachery only put it in a month ago. He's a great one for keeping fit."

  "I shouldn't think he gets much opportunity."

  "He walks to the office each day from Lowndes Square."

  "I didn't know he lived so near to me."

  "Don't get any ideas," Larry teased. "You wouldn't want to bump into Marie!"

  Samantha felt a sense of shock. "Does she live with him?"

  "They don't actually share a home," he said slowly.

  The two people they were talking about came into sight. Marie was so petite that Zachary towered over her. It made him seem taller than he was, which no doubt made him feel good, Samantha thought sourly as she took in the highly expensive creation the French girl was wearing. Not from Farrell's either, she noted. As she watched them she saw Zachary's arm move. She did not know if it was deliberate but the gesture loosened him from Marie's hold, and Samantha noted with satisfaction that the girl did not take his arm again.

  "Sheath your claws," Larry whispered.

  "Were they noticeable?" Samantha asked.

  "Only to me."

  "I don't like her," she said defensively. "That white dress still rankles with me."

  "Well at least you don't have to serve her anymore."

  "Nor pack parcels," she responded. "That cousin of yours kept me in Packaging for three weeks."

  "Zachary did?" Larry looked astonished. "I'm sure he had nothing to do with it."

  "He was the one who sent me there," she said spiritedly.

  "You mean after the Board Room row?" At her nod he grinned. "I'm sure once he did it, he forgot all about it."

  Samantha sniffed, not liking the thought that, having relegated her to the basement, he had put her so completely out of his mind that he had not remembered where she was.

  "Anyway I've moved now," she said flatly. "I'm in Millinery."

  "Let me know when you're in Bedding!"

  "I didn't know you were a gardener."

  Larry roared with laughter. The sound caused Zachary to stop in his tracks and then come toward them. He had a smile on his face, which warned Samantha that some of the Farrell employees were watching them.

  "I am so glad you came—er—Samantha," he said politely. "You will join me at the Directors' table for lunch, won't you?"

  "Nothing could keep me away—er—Zachary." Her voice was demure but she was delighted to see Marie Bergerac scowl. In bright sunshine the French girl's dramatic coloring made her look even harder. Despite her studiedly chosen garden-party dress of white linen, she did not fit into her rural surroundings. Yet she made Samantha feel young and gauche and intensely conscious of her fair hair blowing in the breeze, a couple of ends wisping across her face. She put up her hand and pushed the curls away.

  "Would you care for a swim?" Zachery asked.

  This immediately made her feel she looked hot and disheveled and she answered with unusual asperity, "Not unless you don't mind nude bathing. I didn't bring a suit with me."

  "We have quite a few swimsuits lying round the house." He turned to the girl at his side. "You left a couple here, didn't you, the other weekend?"

  "They wouldn't fit Miss Byers," Marie said. "She's skinnier than I am."

  It wa
s such an obviously catty remark that Samantha almost miaowed. Hiding her amusement she glanced quickly away from Marie's face and found herself looking at Zachary. He, too, had a gleam in his eyes and she was surprised by it. But yes, it was definitely there, and his next words to Marie proved it.

  "Sometimes your English lets you down," he said softly. "The word you meant was slimmer."

  "Either way my swimsuits won't fit her."

  "Please don't be distressed about it," Samantha said politely. "I'll be perfectly happy to lie on a mattress and sunbathe." Linking her arm through Larry's, she urged him away, not pausing until they were hidden from sight by a magnificent wall of scarlet and white rhododendrons.

  "I love flowers," she said, and touched a huge bloom with her hand.

  "You're like a flower yourself."

  "A shaggy chrysanthemum," she teased. "That's what Marie would say."

  "She's a bitch." He moved closer, his breathing quickening.

  Samantha side-stepped him and resumed walking, but this time back toward the house, unwilling to remain in a secluded part of the garden with him.

  "I won't always let you run away from me," he said behind her, and nipped her playfully.

  She squealed and quickened her pace, turning a bend in the path so precipitously that she bumped into Zachary before she could come to a stop. His hands automatically clasped her waist to steady her. They felt warm through the thin cotton of her dress.

  "No parcel this time," he said.

  "And no stairs for me to fall up either!"

  A gleam showed in his eyes but it faded as Larry came into sight. Dropping his hands to his sides he moved away, following the path they had just taken.

  Buffet lunch—prepared by Farrell's own catering department—was served on the lawn. Small tables had been set up, each with its bottles of wine and fruit drinks. The formality of the first hour had gone and people laughed and joked and wandered from one table to another, though none ventured to the large round one where Samantha sat with Zachary and Larry and the other directors.