by Susan Napier;Kathryn Ross;Kelly Hunter;Sandra Marton;Katherine Garbera;Margaret Mayo
When had he returned? After his father’s death, or immediately after she had left? What sort of thoughts went through his head as he lay here each night? Was he remembering her and the amazing lovemaking they’d shared—or the way things had used to be before she moved in? Was this what he preferred—the life of a bachelor?
Even as her mind tried to make sense of what she’d just discovered, Anna heard a movement behind her, and whirling round she came face to face with Oliver.
It was a heart-stopping moment. He was as gorgeous as she remembered, his black hair short as though he’d just had it cut, his face a touch gaunt perhaps, his eyes shadowed, but that was perfectly natural under the circumstances. She could imagine how she’d feel if she lost either of her parents.
‘Mrs G said I’d find you here. Thank you for coming, Anna; it means a lot to me.’
‘It was the least I could do.’
There was an awkward silence and to break it Anna impulsively hugged him. ‘I’m sorry about your father’. It was the sort of hug she would give Chris.
But it was a mistake. She had thought she could make it impersonal. Grave error. There was nothing impersonal about her feelings for Oliver. Her mouth ran dry and a mountain of pulses jerked into overtime.
Even Oliver looked stunned, though she couldn’t accept that he’d felt anything. More than likely he was wondering what had made her do it, praying she wasn’t intent on trying to revive their marriage.
He needn’t worry. Whatever feelings ran rampant inside her, she intended to keep them hidden.
‘I didn’t realise you were living back here,’ she said in an effort to defuse the sudden tension.
He offered no explanation, simply saying, ‘If you want this room I can easily move—’
‘No.’ Anna stopped him before he could go any further. ‘I’ve already claimed one of the others. I was just passing the time. I’m sorry if I’ve intruded.’
She could easily imagine what it would be like sleeping in the bed they had once shared. It was bad enough at the cottage, but here, where they’d spent so many long, deliriously happy months, it would be unbearable. How could he do it?
‘So long as you’re comfortable.’
Such forced politeness. Best put an end to it. ‘I think I might go and unpack and take a shower.’
But he seemed not to want to let her go. ‘Carl met you all right?’
‘Yes, the plane was on time.’
‘I would have come myself but—’
‘You had other obligations,’ she cut in. ‘I understand. This is a sad time for you, Oliver. If there’s anything you want me to do, any help I can give, you only have to say.’
‘Thank you,’ he said and, with an expectant lift of one eyebrow, added, ‘Will you have dinner with me this evening?’
This wasn’t what Anna had meant and her eyes widened in dismay.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said at once. ‘It’s just that I could do with some company right now. But it’s all right, I understand how you must feel. I’ll cancel the booking and—’
‘No, I’ll come,’ she insisted, feeling sorry for him then.
But later, when she joined Oliver downstairs, when her insides sizzled at the mere sight of him, she began to wish that she’d refused. It was going to be hard hiding the attraction she still held for him.
She guessed that part of it would never go away. She could hate him for what he’d done, the way he’d accused and distrusted her, the way he’d simply abandoned her, but the physical magnetism—that lethal attraction she had felt on the ferry—would always remain.
He was wearing a white shirt and close-fitting dark trousers; his matching jacket lay casually over the arm of a chair. His tie was black and she was reminded how fiercely he must be missing his father.
She herself had chosen to wear a black dress—not purposely in respect for Edward but because it was the only outfit she had brought with her which was suitable for dining out. It had long sleeves and a scoop neck, was fitted to the hips and then flared gently to mid-calf.
Oliver’s eyes roved lazily over her, lingering on her mouth, the same sort of appraisal he’d made when they first met and it sent the same sort of dizzy feelings through her, but he made no comment, simply enquiring, ‘A drink before we leave, perhaps?’
Anna shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’ The sooner they went, the sooner they’d be home.
It was a restaurant he’d taken her to before, quietly elegant with tables set far enough apart for conversations not to be overheard. There was no lounge, the bar was in a corner of the dining room, and they were shown straight to their table.
‘How did you know where to find me?’ she asked after they’d ordered drinks and made their choices from the extensive menu.
‘I rang Dawn.’ His lips twisted wryly. ‘I know you asked her to tell no one but I gave her little choice. Don’t be too hard on her.’
Anna actually already knew what he’d done. She’d phoned Dawn last night after Oliver’s news about his father, and discovered that Oliver had contacted her sister not long after she’d left for Ireland. The fact that he’d known for all these weeks where she was but done nothing about it spoke volumes.
After the funeral tomorrow he would politely thank her for coming, wish her a safe flight back to Ireland and that would be the end of her marriage.
She had also asked Dawn whether Chris knew that she and Oliver had split up. But her sister had kept her promise in this instance. Anna was aware, though, that the time had come to contact him, her parents too. They had a right to know what was going on.
She’d rung them a couple of times from Ireland but they’d been under the impression that Oliver was with her, and she’d never told them otherwise.
During the meal Oliver steered the conversation away from all things personal, talking mainly about his job, which suited Anna down to the ground. But as he talked she gained the impression that he wasn’t happy in his work any more. It wasn’t anything he said, just his general attitude. There wasn’t the fire and enthusiasm that he’d always had.
Maybe it was because of present circumstances, but somehow she didn’t think so. Something had gone wrong that he wasn’t telling her about. Which made her sad because he’d always told her everything. She’d congratulated him when things were going well, commiserated if he’d had problems, calmed him when he was angry over something. And now she was no longer a part of that life.
They were halfway through their main course when an attractive blonde wearing a skirt only just long enough to be decent, stopped at their table. ‘Oliver, what a surprise.’ And, in a very loud aside, ‘What’s she doing here?’
‘Melanie,’ he said, politely standing up but not answering her question. ‘I thought you were in Egypt.’
‘I came back this morning. I couldn’t believe it when Daddy told me about Uncle Edward.’ There were tears in her eyes as she spoke. ‘I tried to phone you. You poor darling, you must be devastated.’ She wrapped her arms around him. ‘You shouldn’t have to bear this alone. If only I’d been here, I—’
‘He isn’t alone.’ Anna heard herself say the words, though they either didn’t hear or ignored her. She’d met Melanie a few times and on no occasion had the girl enamoured herself to her. In fact, she had treated Anna with icy disdain.
Anna had always assumed that Oliver continued to put up with her for his father’s sake—but when he held her now, when he stroked her hair, almost as though he were comforting Melanie instead of the other way round, Anna felt he was taking things too far. This girl had treated him scandalously, for pity’s sake. Why was he behaving like this?
Fury zipped through her veins. Would either of them notice if she got up and walked out? Melanie shouldn’t be allowed to do this to Oliver, not after all she’d put him through. Goodness, he’d not even welcomed her, his own wife, with this much fuss.
She stood up, picked up her bag and was halfway across the dining room when Oliver caught her up.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked quietly.
‘To the Ladies.’ Because I suddenly feel sick, she added silently.
‘You’re not walking out because of Melanie? I know she can be a bit full on at times, but for my father’s sake I can’t ignore her at a time like this.’
‘You’re a free man,’ she tossed airily. ‘You can do whatever you like, be with whomever you like. It really doesn’t matter to me any more. If you’d prefer Melanie at your side, now she’s home from her holiday, then—’
‘No!’ He said the word sharply and loudly. ‘I want you. You are my wife.’
‘You walked out on me, Oliver.’
He closed his eyes for a second as if to say, I know and I shouldn’t have done. But when he looked at her again his expression was blank, his feelings well hidden. ‘Whatever I did, I want you with me now.’
For appearances’ sake? she felt like asking, but she didn’t. It was the wrong time to goad him. ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ she said coolly, and carried on to the cloakroom.
But she didn’t hasten, taking time to dab powder on her nose and reapply her lipstick. She was running a comb through her hair when the door opened and Melanie waltzed in.
Anna saw her through the mirror, saw the calculating gleam in the blue eyes, and knew immediately that there was trouble brewing. Melanie wasn’t here to touch up her make-up, she was spoiling for a fight. Anna turned to face her.
Melanie spoke first. ‘I think you have a cheek coming back for Uncle Edward’s funeral when Oliver chucked you out.’
‘Since Oliver doesn’t mind, I hardly think you have any say in the matter,’ Anna said with quiet dignity, wondering exactly how much he had told this girl about their break-up. She had no intention, though, of getting into a slanging match. Melanie wasn’t worth it.
‘Oliver doesn’t love you any more.’
It was a childish statement and Anna’s finely shaped brows slid up. ‘He’s told you that, has he?’ It was the truth, yes, he had stopped loving her—but she didn’t need it ramming down her throat.
‘Not in so many words,’ Melanie admitted with a careless shrug, taking a brush from her bag and dragging it needlessly through her long thick hair. ‘But we’ve spent a lot of time together since you split up. He needed someone to soothe his ravaged breast,’ she added dramatically. ‘You could say we’re back on to our old footing. He’s a fantastic lover, isn’t he? The best. I’ve made sure he’s not missing out.’
Surely this couldn’t be true? Anna felt her heart take a dive. Oliver wouldn’t jump from her bed to Melanie’s when he’d declared so strongly that he no longer felt anything for this other girl, would he? Not when Melanie had ruined their relationship with her outrageous bragging.
On the other hand, he was a healthy male with a good appetite for sex; she couldn’t expect him to remain celibate for long.
It hurt, though, accepting that he might have turned to Melanie in her absence and it was difficult to remain calm. Somehow she managed it. ‘Good for you,’ she said with a cool little smile. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, Melanie, I’ll get back to Oliver before he thinks we’ve both deserted him.’
It took even more of an effort to walk to their table and pretend there was nothing wrong. She saw Oliver watching her, frowning, wondering. And she was determined she would give him no cause to ask questions.
‘Sorry I took so long,’ she said, pasting a brilliant smile on her face.
‘What did Melanie have to say?’
‘Melanie?’ she asked innocently. ‘Not a lot. She’s very distressed about your father, of course. Is she here on her own? Is she joining us?’ She tried to make it sound as though she didn’t mind, that she would welcome the other girl.
‘I believe she’s with a friend,’ Oliver told her, his attention distracted as Melanie emerged from the cloakroom. They both watched as the blonde made her way to a table the other side of the room and sat down opposite her male companion with an apologetic smile.
He was a dark-haired, I’m-good-looking-and-I-know-it individual who Anna wouldn’t trust as far as she could throw him. A typical rake out for a good time.
How could Oliver bear to touch a woman who went out with men like that? wondered Anna.
‘Do you know him?’ she asked.
‘Who?’
‘Melanie’s friend. You seemed to be watching them very closely.’
Oliver shrugged. ‘Just curious, that’s all. I can’t say I’ve ever met the guy—but then, Melanie has lots of friends.’
‘She’s a very attractive girl.’ In an artificial sort of way.
‘Mmm, I suppose so.’
‘Do you still fancy her?’
‘What is this, a third degree?’ he asked sharply. ‘I’ve invited you out tonight. I don’t want to talk about Melanie.’
‘But you are very close?’ She noticed he hadn’t answered her question.
He shrugged. ‘She’s almost one of the family. I’m glad she’s back in time for my father’s funeral. She’d have been terribly upset if she hadn’t found out until too late.’
‘Didn’t anyone think to phone her—leave a message at her hotel?’
‘No one knew exactly where she was. In Egypt, yes—but precisely where, no. Not even her own father. She has a habit of taking herself off on a whim and telling no one.’
‘I see. Did she perhaps holiday with that guy she’s with now?’
‘I don’t know.’ Oliver began to sound distinctly irritated. ‘And I don’t really care. It’s no business of mine.’
Oh, but it was, thought Anna. He was getting too worked up to be completely disinterested.
‘I want to talk about you,’ he said, fixing his eyes steadfastly on hers. ‘I want to know why you left so suddenly. I couldn’t believe it when my father told me that you’d gone. It didn’t make sense. Why didn’t you come and see me first?’
So Edward had said nothing about ordering her out, and she could hardly lay the blame now with his father not yet buried. Anna lifted her shoulders in a dismissive gesture. ‘What was there to discuss?’
‘There was absolutely no need for you to leave,’ he declared firmly. ‘And why Ireland? I know I was angry with you—damned angry, as a matter of fact—but you didn’t have to shoot off like that.’
‘I thought it best,’ she said quietly.
‘And you’re happy there?’
Anna shrugged. ‘It’s temporary.’
‘And the boyfriend?’
‘What boyfriend?’ she asked coldly.
‘The one you gave the money to. Is he with you?’
Anna closed her eyes. This was most definitely the wrong time and the wrong place for this kind of conversation. ‘You’re wrong about Tony but I have no wish to discuss it. I think actually I’d like to go home.’ How easily the word slipped out. ‘I mean back to your house,’ she corrected quickly. ‘I’m tired.’
‘Very well.’ He beckoned the waiter for their bill and surprisingly he never once looked in Melanie’s direction as they left the restaurant. But Anna did, and the look of venom in Melanie’s eyes was enough to send icy shivers down her spine. The message was clear, this was not going to be the last she saw of her.
Chapter Four
ANNA had insisted on going straight to bed when they got back to Weston Lodge despite it being only a little after nine. The fact that Oliver still refused to give her the benefit of the doubt, that he still thought she’d given the money away for personal gain, hurt too much for her to put herself in line for any more accusations. She wanted to spend as little time with him as possible.
She heard him come upstairs a little before midnight, heard him pause at her door, and she waited, wondering if he’d turn the knob and walk in. Her hammered heartbeats echoed in her ears as seconds became a minute and a minute became two.
But finally, much to her relief, he moved on. She heard the faint squeak of the bedroom door—it had always done that and they’d always promised to get it
oiled—and the gentle click as it closed. Only then did she realise that she’d been holding her breath.
What had he been thinking as he stood outside? She would have liked to believe that he’d been tempted to come in and make love to her with that driving animal passion which had always set her body on fire. But she knew differently. That part of her life was most definitely over.
Would she ever, though, really know what was going on inside Oliver’s head? Was he glad or sorry that their marriage had ended? Was it his intention to file for divorce as soon as the funeral was over? Or did he strongly regret them breaking up but was far too proud to go back on his word?
Dawn was breaking when she finally fell asleep, and when Anna didn’t go down for breakfast Mrs Green brought a tray to her room. ‘Oliver’s orders,’ she said firmly as Anna sleepily pushed herself up. ‘You have to eat. He said you hardly touched your meal last night. A waste of money, that was; I could easily have cooked you something nice and light.’
‘You’re very kind, Mrs Green,’ said Anna as she lifted the silver cover and saw scrambled eggs, bacon and mushrooms, as well as crisp toast and butter and a pot of marmalade. ‘But I’ll never get through all this.’
‘You’ve lost weight,’ the housekeeper said warningly. ‘I bet you haven’t been eating properly. Now tuck in like a good girl. I’ll put your tea here on the side. Would you like me to pour it?’
‘I can manage, thank you.’
No sooner had Mrs Green gone than Oliver walked in. His hair was still damp from the shower, and he was dressed in black trousers and a white silk shirt. He looked sombre and pale and her heart went out to him. ‘Did Mrs G pass on my orders?’ he asked gruffly.
‘It depends what they were,’ she replied, taking a fork to the scrambled egg.
‘You didn’t eat enough last night to feed a sparrow’, he muttered uncompromisingly. ‘You haven’t been down for breakfast and the funeral’s in a little over an hour. What game are you playing?’
Anna felt a pang of horror. ‘I hadn’t realised how late it was. I haven’t time for breakfast now.’ The fork went flying. ‘I’ll—’
