How, why, or even when it had happened was no longer important. It was a feet, she had fallen in love with another Carl, another man who had no interest in marrying 'a girl like her9. But at least Bart had been totally honest from the beginning, had made it clear he wanted to go to bed with her and nothing else. Then why had he suddenly changed? Just now she had been practically begging him to kiss her, and he had pushed her away from him. Maybe he was no longer interested in her in that way, not now that her body ached for his. Since Carl she hadn't been physically attracted to any man, hadn't really been attracted in any way, her feelings seeming frozen. Now her heart had been laid bare to the love Bart had made her feel, a love he didn't want.
'What did you say to Bart to send him off to London in such a hurry?" Derek wanted to know the next day. 'You weren't being your usual bitchy self to him, were you?' he frowned. 'The poor man has hardly left your side since he brought you here.'
Eve had been listening to Nurse Evans chattering all morning about how Bart had sat with her most of the time, and quite frankly she was sick of hearing what a paragon he was. If he had really cared he would have stayed on. 'Why does everyone call him a "poor man"?’ she asked waspishly. 'I'm the one that's been ill,' she added childishly.
'You're certainly back on form now,' Derek grinned. 'It's hard to believe after the way you've been this past week.'
'I feel fine,' she muttered. 1 just want to get out of here.'
Derek shook his head. 'Not yet, not for at least a week. Bart said that under no circumstances were you to leave here before he gets back.'
Everyone talked about Bart with such respect, she was surprised she hadn't noticed it before. But then maybe she had been blinded by prejudice. Maybe? She had! But the blinkers had been removed now, painfully so, and it wasn't helping the situation, that everyone else seemed to have liked and' respected him from the beginning. It just made her past behaviour seem more petty than she already knew it to be.
'Did he think I might?' she snapped.
'Yes,' came Derek's blunt reply.
Rebellion warred with the need to see Bart again, and finally that need won. 'Then he was wrong,' she said quietly, her eyes evasive as Derek gave her a sharp look. 'I've risked my health once,' she excused. 'I'm not about to do it again.'
'Good girl!' He squeezed her hand.
Her mouth twisted. She wasn't being 'good' at all. Right now she was being bad, very bad. She desperately wanted to see Bart, to be with him. Over the next few days that need deepened, so much so that she just longed for his return.
She was much better now, got out of bed hi the mornings and dressed herself in the clothes that she had amazingly found filled most of the wardrobe, had washed her long hair, brushing it until it hung soft and silky over her shoulders. Her light make-up added colour to her cheeks, and she knew that despite how ill she had been for a time she was now ready to leave. And still Bart hadn't returned. He had been gone four days already, when would he come back? And when he did would it just be to say goodbye to her?
On the sixth day after Bart's departure the doctor gave her her discharge. And still Bart hadn't returned. She wasn't even going to see him again before she left!
'Why so glum?' Derek asked as he came to collect her. 'I thought you'd be glad to get out of this place.'
'I am,' she replied jerkily, forcefully packing her clothes away in her suitcase. 'Although everyone has been very kind,' she added grudgingly. 'About the bill----'
'Bart's taken care of it,' he dismissed.
Eve sighed, stopping to look up at him. 'Don't you think I owe him enough already?'
Derek shrugged. 'He wanted to pay for it.'
'That really isn't the point-----'
Talk to him about it, Eve,' he cut in firmly. 'I wouldn't presume to discuss it with him.'
She could see that Derek would be no match against the much more forceful Bart. 'You'd better give me his telephone number, then,' she said moodily. 'I'll call him.' She closed her suitcase with a firm snap. Derek frowned. 'No need for that.'
'I have to,' she insisted, pushing her hair back over her shoulder, the black off-the-shoulder gypsy-style blouse and pencil-thin camel coloured skirt showing off her slender curves, slightly thinner than she had been the last time she had worn the outfit. Her shoulders were left bare, tanned a golden brown from her afternoons of sunbathing on her boat earlier in the summer. She looked cool and beautiful, her sophisticated clothes giving her confidence. 'He's been more than generous already.' She took a last look around the room to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, going through to the adjoining bathroom to check there too.
'That wasn't what I meant.' Derek stood in the doorway, moving back as she came into the main room. 'I meant you don't have to call Bart, you can tell him.'
She gave him an impatient glance. 'How?'
'Well, he's outside----'
'Bart is?’ she stiffened.
'Mm,' Derek nodded. "He's talking to the doctor.'
Eve dropped down weakly on to the bed. 'When did he get back?" she asked dazedly.
'Late last night.'
'Oh. I—I didn't think he was coming back.'
'Apparently he's been very busy. He looks it too. There must be more to being a wealthy banker than I realised,'
Derek added with humour.
Eve wasn't really listening to him. Bart was back, was just outside talking to the doctor. She could hardly believe it. She had felt so miserable as she got ready to leave this morning, hadn't been the picture of health and happiness of a girl about to leave hospital.
Now she felt glowing, her eyes a deep sparkling blue in her anticipation of seeing Bart again after all this time. Would he be cold towards her, as he had been before going to London? Oh, she hoped not.
'Derek—-'
The door opened and Bart and the doctor came into the room. Eve ate him with her eyes, although he didn't even spare her a glance. He looked so handsome, the dark brown shirt and cream trousers casual in the extreme, and yet on Bart they looked immaculate. He was the sort of man who could wear denims and still walk into any company and be the most handsome and distinguished man there.
His hair was golden blond, but she could see several strands of grey among its thickness. She could also see deep lines of cynicism about his eyes and the firmness of his mouth. But he looked so good to her, so handsome, that she couldn't take her eyes off him.
'Ready to leave us?' Julian Reeve smiled at her.
She had come to like this young doctor over the last few days, returning his smile warmly. She was in such a good mood now that Bart was here that she would probably have smiled at the devil himself if he were here. 'More than ready,' she nodded agreement eagerly.
He shook her hand firmly. 'And take better care of yourself.'
'She will.' Bart spoke for the first time, his tone -curt.
'Fine,' the doctor nodded. 'I'll leave you now.'
'How are you?' Bart asked Eve once the doctor had left them.
'I'm well,' she replied stiltedly, her manner as stiff as his in her excitement at seeing him again.
'I'll take this out to the car,' Derek indicated the suitcase. 'See you outside.'
Eve didn't even notice his departure, still having eyes only for Bart. Derek was right, he did look tired. And she couldn't help wondering if his mistress had helped to make him that way. Jealousy ripped through her as she thought of the unknown woman.
Bart looked her over critically. 'You really are feeling better?' he probed.
'Yes,' her voice was husky.
'Good,' his tone was brisk. 'Then we'd better be going. You feel up to the drive?'
Eve frowned. 'It's only a few miles. I'm not made of glass, Bart.'
'Hampshire is more than a "few" miles.' His mouth twisted. 'It's going to take us several hours to get there. But you can sleep on the back seat if you're tired.'
'Hampshire?' she repeated dazedly. 'But---'
'Of course.' He sighed. 'Derek h
asn't told you, has he?'
'Told me what?' she demanded, wondering what sort of plans had been made behind her back.
'That you're coming home with me,' Bart told her calmly. 'To my house in Hampshire.'
She swallowed hard. 'I— I am?'
'Yes,' he nodded abruptly. 'You're going to have that rest I wanted you to have in the first place. You'll be staying with me for at least a month, maybe longer.'
CHAPTER SIX
'I—I WILL?' she stammered, overwhelmed by this sudden gift of time with him when she had thought she would never see him again.
Green eyes sharpened on her pale face. 'Are you sure you're feeling better?'
'Yes!' Her tone was indignantly impatient now.
'If you say so,' he shrugged, but still he frowned. 'No argument about the Hampshire idea?'
'No.'
'Why not?' he asked abruptly.
Eve shrugged. 'I need the rest.'
Bart raised his eyebrows. 'You're very meek all of a sudden,' he said thoughtfully. Her eyes sparkled with anger. 'And you don't like me to be meek,' she recalled. 'I'll have to remember that.'
Some of the harshness left his face. 'When you want to annoy me, hmm?'
'Yes,' she snapped. If he preferred antagonism then that was exactly what he was going to get.
'That's better,' Bart grinned, taking hold of her elbow. 'Let's go, Derek's waiting for us.'
Derek was waiting beside the dark limousine Eve had been given a lift in the first night she had met Bart, although the chauffeur was noticeably absent. Derek sat in the back, the dividing window wound down, and Eve sat beside Bart in the front. He drove the huge car confidently.
He turned as he saw her questioning look. 'You're wondering why I don't drive myself all the time,' he mused. Eve flushed at his ability to be able to read her mind. She would have to be careful of that, it wouldn't do for him to guess she was in love with him. 'Yes,' she confirmed tautly.
'I usually work in the back on the drive to and from work,' he explained.
'You work too hard,' she said without thinking, hearing Derek's snort of disbelief from the back and realising he thought she had been too outspoken. 'Sorry,' she mumbled. 'It's none of my business when you choose to work.'
‘No, it isn't,' he agreed tersely.
They dropped Derek off at the hotel he and Judy had been staying at. 'I have my own ear here,' he explained at Eve's dismayed look. 'We'll be driving back to London later today. Give me a call when you feel like having visitors,' he grinned at her, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
'Eve won't be in a prison.' Bart had obviously picked up Derek's mocking tone, scowling heavily. 'No one is making her accept these arrangements.' He turned to give her a dark look. 'Would you rather go to a nursing home?'
'No,' she shook her head firmly.
'Very well.' His hard gaze returned to Derek. 'Visit Eve any time you like,' he said in an offhand voice, 'She won't be going anywhere.'
Derek looked a little sheepish. 'I only meant--'
'It isn't important,' Bart cut in impatiently. 'I'd like to get going now, I have a dinner engagement this evening.'
Eve stiffened at his mention of a dinner engagement, managing to turn and wave to Derek out of the back window, her smile brittle and meaningless. Who was Bart having dinner with this evening? Was he just going to leave her in his house in Hampshire and go off to London to be with his mistress? She couldn't bear that, she would rather become his mistress herself than let that happen. 'Well?' he suddenly rasped. She blinked at the suddenness of the question. 'Well what?'
‘What's wrong?' he sighed. 'You haven't said a word for the past ten minutes.'
'I didn't know I was here to provide you with entertainment,' she said waspishly. He grinned. "This car may be big, but it isn't big enough for the form of entertainment I enjoy.'
Eve blushed scarlet. 'I suppose that's where you're going tonight,' she snapped. Tell me, purely for interest's sake, does she have a round bed or just a king-size one?'
'Purely for interest's sake,' Bart drawled, 'what the hell are you talking about?' 'You know,' she said moodily. 'I would hardly be asking if I did,' he scorned.
'And I wish I knew what bed sizes had to do with the business dinner I'm attending this evening.' She blushed.
'Business dinner?' 'Yes,' he nodded. 'What did you think it was, an assignation with my mistress?'
'Well, you said you had one!' He raised his eyebrows. 'Did I?' 'You know you did!' She was beginning to feel stupid now, a stupid jealous female. And if she weren't careful Bart would realise that was exactly what she was. "The first night we met you said---'
'I believe I said a lot of things that night,' he recalled harshly. 'But then you were at your most provocative that night.'
'Does that mean you don't have a mistress?' She held her breath as she waited for his answer. I wouldn't say that,' he said noncommittally. that's the matter, Miss Icicle Heart, don't you like other people to enjoy themselves?’ he taunted.
Her hands clenched together in her lap, and she only just stopped herself from hitting him. Loving . this man didn't make him any less the arrogant tease he was.
"You can do what the hell you please,' she told him heatedly. 'And I don't have an icicle heart!'
'Then maybe you don't have a heart at all,' he dismissed scathingly.
'You were right the first time, the day you cancelled my concert. I've been hurt before,' she recalled dully, 'and I don't intend repeating the experience.' But she had, she had! And she had never admitted her past disillusionment to anyone.
Tell me about him,' Bart's jaw was rigid, his gaze fixed firmly on the road in front of him.
‘He—I—No,' she refused jerkily, 'I can't. I never talk about him.' ‘Why?'
"Why? I—Well------'
'Does he still mean so much to you?' Bart rasped. 'No!' her denial was emphatic. "No, it isn't that,' she said more calmly. 'He's just a painful, embarrassing experience that I would rather forget.'
‘How old were you when he happened?' Bart asked dispassionately, as if he were clinically interested in the heartbreak she had suffered:
'Almost twenty,' she revealed tightly. 'Old enough to know better than to get involved with a man like him. I suppose we all have to find out the hard way.' 'And the affair was your way?' 'There was no affair!" she flared. 'At least, not in the way you mean.' She blushed as he turned, his piercing gaze probing her flushed features. He shrugged. "What other way is there? Either you did sleep with him or you didn't. Did you?' he rapped out.
'Yes. No! I—Mind your own business!' She turned away, staring sightlessly out of the window. 'Don't you know?' he taunted mockingly. Pain flickered across her face before it was quickly hidden. 'Of course I know,' she answered in a controlled voice. 'I know all too well the way your current mistress feels----'
'We weren't discussing me,' he cut in abruptly.
'What's the matter?' she scorned. 'Don't you want to see it from the woman's point of view? To know the humiliation of being the person you go, to when you have a spare hour or two and feel like spending them in bed? To----'
'That's enough!' he ordered tightly. Eve gave a taunting laugh. 'You really don't want to hear it, do you?' she sneered, 'Well, you're going to!' She turned in her seat to face him, tense as a coiled spring.
'Whoever the woman in your life is she probably feels exactly as I did. You go to her, spend a few hours of forgetfulness in her arms before going back to your work and family, forgetting her until the next time you feel like going to bed with her. What you haven't considered—or perhaps you have and it just doesn't bother you—is that once you've gone she's going to realise she was just a body in a bed to you, and she'll hate you for it. Until the next time, when she'll love you again. Do you have any idea of how degrading that feeling can be?'
'No,' he ground out. 'But you obviously do.' 'Oh yes,' she acknowledged shrilly, 'I know. And no man will ever do that to me again!'
'This man—t
he man you were involved with—did he----' For once Bart seemed to have trouble articulating, his hands gripping the steering-wheel until his knuckles showed white.
'Yes, that's the way he treated me,' she snapped bitterly. 'And I was too damned stupid to realise until it was too late. You see, at nineteen, I still thought mere was such a thing as love——' Her voice broke. 'I hadn't met anyone like you then.'
Bart turned to look at her briefly, his skin pulled taut across his hard cheekbones. 'What the hell do I have to do with the way this man treated you?'
Her mouth twisted. 'Have you forgotten the relationship you offered me the first night we met?'
A ruddy hue coloured his cheeks. 'You made me angry—'
Her harsh laugh cut into his explanation. 'I made you angry?' she scorned. 'What do you think you did to me? You insulted me in the worst way possible, thought I should just be grateful you had noticed me.'
‘Eve-----'
'Don't deny it, Bart.' She shook her head, biting her bottom lip.
'Okay,' he snapped, 'I won't deny that I insulted you, but the second part is completely untrue. And I'm nothing like the man you got yourself involved with----'
'I didn't involve myself with him,' she gasped. 'I fell in love with him.'
'And by the sound of it he already had a wife and family!'
'Something he kept very quiet about, I can tell you,' she said fiercely. 'But then, men like you are all the same-----'
'Will you stop likening me to the swine who hurt you!'
'But you are like him,' she said dully. She had forgotten for a while, had wanted to forget because she had fallen in love with him. But in the end he was going to hurt her as much as Carl had—more so, because she loved Bart as a woman, and not with the calf-love she had felt towards Carl.
Strange, she could see it that way now. At the time it had had the effect of changing her whole life, and now it meant nothing to her, less than nothing. Oh, she regretted that part of her life, hated the fact that Carl had made love to her, but the past couldn't be changed, it could only be accepted. And she thought she was finally doing that. But men like Bart still didn't marry 'girls like her', and any relationship she had with him would be as transient as it had been with Carl. Could she accept that? When she had the answer to that she would be able to start living again. She noticed Bart struggling beside her to light a cheroot. 'Let me,3 she offered instantly. He leant forward as she struck the lighter, instantly surrounded by a thick cloud of smoke. 'Thanks,' he said tersely, pocketing the lighter. 'I'm sorry if you think I'm like this other man,' he added abruptly.
Red Rose For Love Page 9
