by Susan Napier;Kathryn Ross;Kelly Hunter;Sandra Marton;Katherine Garbera;Margaret Mayo
Anna tried her hardest to keep her dignity because she knew that yelling back at him would get her nowhere. But it was difficult when confronted by such a fierce and unrelenting condemnation.
‘Oliver—’
‘Don’t!’
‘Don’t what?’ she asked with a quick frown, wishing she hadn’t felt the usual rush of adrenalin. She didn’t need anything that would let her down.
‘Don’t try to get out of it.’
‘You’re jumping to conclusions.’
‘I wish I was.’
‘I haven’t been anywhere near your father’s precious jewellery. I didn’t even know it existed.’.
‘And I’m supposed to believe that, am I?’
‘It’s the truth.’
‘So where the hell is it?’
‘I don’t know. If you don’t want to believe me, that’s your prerogative, but I’ve not seen it, I’ve not taken it, and I’ve not given it to Tony.’
For a fraction of a second he looked as though he wanted to believe her, but then his face hardened again, the rage continued. ‘Tony’s address—please.’
The ‘please’ was an afterthought, but he could have dropped to his knees and begged and it would have got him nowhere because she had no idea where Tony was. There had been no contact between them since he’d called off their engagement.
‘I don’t have it.’
‘Liar!’ he ground through his teeth.
Anger welled in Anna like a pan of milk on the boil. ‘I have never lied to you, Oliver, and I’m not lying now. I don’t know where your damn jewellery is. Maybe your father got rid of it. Have you seen it since he died? Where did he keep it?’
‘In the safe—and yes, I’ve seen it.’
‘So how was I—’ Anna touched her two hands to her chest ‘—supposed to have taken it?’
‘Because the key to the safe was with the rest of the house keys. It was labelled “cellar,” apparently to confuse any potential burglar—but you had plenty of time to try all the keys before you took off in the Land Rover.’
‘Are you sure it doesn’t have a combination lock as well, which I’m miraculously supposed to have known?’ she asked scathingly. ‘This is ridiculous, Oliver. I’m not going to listen to any more of your accusations.’
Anna was so incensed she could have hit him. Had their relationship disintegrated to such a degree that Oliver thought her capable of stealing? She swept savagely past him, shaking off his arm as he tried to stop her, running quickly down the stairs, and storming out of the house.
At the Lodge she phoned for a taxi. Then she ran up to her room, snatched her case from the top of the wardrobe and flung her clothes into it. By the time she had finished, when every last possession was packed, the taxi had arrived.
Anna was still spitting fire as she left behind the house where she had once been so happy. The sad part was, Oliver hadn’t even come after her.
She had a long wait at the airport. Turning up without a ticket or with any thought as to what time the next plane to Dublin was hadn’t been a very good move. What it did do was give her time to think.
And at the end of all her thinking she knew that she was doing the right thing. Trying to mend bridges never worked. Twice Oliver had hurt her; he was not going to get the chance to do it again.
She was extremely bitter and deeply hurt that he’d thought her capable of stealing his family heirlooms. It proved that he’d never really loved her. Sex had, as she’d suspected, been the only common bond between them.
If he had loved her, he’d have trusted her implicitly; he wouldn’t have thought for even one second that she was responsible. She was well rid of him.
It was late evening and dark when Anna arrived at the cottage. She was cold and tired and considerably out of sorts. She switched on the electric fire in the living room, filled the kettle and put that on to boil, then went upstairs and switched on the electric blanket.
That done, she emptied her suitcase unceremoniously on to the spare bed, telling herself that she would put everything away in the morning. She sorted out a nightdress and dressing gown and undressed in front of the fire downstairs. She made herself a mug of drinking chocolate, ate half a packet of biscuits, because she was suddenly starving, and then went to bed.
And amazingly she slept for ten hours. When she opened her eyes she couldn’t remember where she was, but it didn’t take long for the whole sorry affair to come flooding back.
Was Oliver glad to be rid of her, she wondered sadly, or would he come chasing after her demanding to know what she’d done with the jewellery? He’d be in for a big disappointment if he did, because she hadn’t a clue what had happened to it.
What she did know was that her marriage to Oliver was definitely over; it was a part of her life best forgotten, a closed chapter. Today she was going to make a fresh start.
She jumped out of bed, showered and dressed, plucked a loaf out of the freezer, toasted a couple of slices, made a big pot of coffee, and spent the next hour thinking about her future.
For the time being, she’d stay here. She’d get a temporary job again in Wexford, and once she felt up to it she would return to London and settle back into her old life.
She’d made a big mistake in marrying Oliver, the biggest mistake of her life. Love at first sight, marrying on an impulse, rarely worked. She should have known that; she’d heard it said enough times.
Anna spent the day settling in, shopping for food, and generally making herself comfortable. Tomorrow she planned to go job-hunting.
Oliver couldn’t believe he had accused Anna of stealing. The Anna he had married would never do something like that. Not in a million years. The money that she’d taken was a different matter altogether—she’d seen that as her own and he shouldn’t have judged her now on the strength of what she’d done then.
But what was he to believe? Where had the jewellery gone? Who had taken it? Looking at the situation logically, Anna was the only one who’d had the keys to the Hall, who’d had the opportunity.
He’d seen the gems in the safe in the days after the funeral—and now they were gone—and Anna had paid a visit to her mysterious brother again! Everything pointed to her—and yet deep down inside him he knew that she wasn’t guilty. He should never have accused her; he was the world’s biggest idiot.
The trouble was she’d been driving him insane for weeks with her tempting body and her enticing green eyes. Every time she looked at him he’d felt a surge of hunger, a very real need to take her to bed again and make wild passionate love.
It kept him awake at night and tormented him during the day and the time had been drawing close when he could hang on to his emotions no longer. It was why he had snapped. Why he had accused her. Why he hadn’t been thinking straight.
And now it was too late.
Oliver had wanted to stop Anna on that fateful day; he’d wanted to go after her, tell her he’d been mistaken, that he’d made his accusation in the heat of the moment and he knew he was wrong. But he also knew that he needed to give her time to calm down.
So he’d waited a couple of hours before returning to the Lodge—then had the shock of his life when he discovered that she’d disappeared and taken everything with her.
He had thought she meant that she wasn’t staying at the Hall, not that she was leaving him altogether. Damn! What was he to do now? Was there any chance for them or had he well and truly ruined any future prospects?
Accusing Anna had been a moment of madness. His blind fury had killed her love for him. Killed it stone dead.
He poured a whisky and tossed it down his throat. In fact, he had several whiskies and he spent the rest of the day in a self-induced alcoholic haze, trying to convince himself that he was better off without Anna.
In the cold light of dawn, he knew differently. His head throbbed, his mouth felt like a sewer, but he knew that he had to find her. He loved her too much to let her go without a fight. She was sure to have gone to t
he cottage to pick up her car. With a bit of luck, she’d stay a few days and he would find her there.
When Melanie phoned just as he was about to ring up and book his flight, he cut her short. He didn’t want Melanie hanging around any more. He’d done his duty; he’d been nice to her while she was grieving over Edward, but enough was enough.
And when it rang again immediately afterwards he barked fiercely, ‘Melanie, I thought I’d told you—’
‘I don’t know who Melanie is but it’s definitely not me.’
Oliver was momentarily taken aback by the man’s amused voice. ‘I’m sorry, who is this?’
‘Chris Paige, Anna’s brother. Is she there?’
Anna’s brother! The mysterious brother whom he’d never been allowed to meet.
‘No, she isn’t,’ he said perhaps more sharply than he intended, but he could do without these calls at this precise moment.
‘When will she be home? I really would like to speak to her.’
Oliver closed his eyes and leant his head back against the chair. ‘Never.’ Had he really said that, or was it only in his mind?
‘What do you mean never?’
Oh, Lord, he had said it. He’d have to tell the truth now. ‘She’s left me.’
There was a short, palpable silence before Chris said slowly, ‘Because of the money she lent me? Were you still hassling her over that?’
So it was her brother after all that Anna had given the money to, and she’d told Chris about his reaction. What sort of a fiend did that make him? And while Oliver was still wondering how to answer, Chris spoke again.
‘Did she ever tell you the real reason she lent it to me?’
‘No,’ Oliver admitted quietly, rubbing a hand over his throbbing brow.
‘It was because I made her promise not to,’ admitted Chris. ‘I did eventually release her from that promise but it was my fault all the same that you never got to hear the truth.’
‘A promise?’ What was the man talking about?
‘I needed money; my business was in trouble. I knew it was only a temporary thing, but—’
‘And you made Anna promise not to tell me?’ cut in Oliver impatiently. ‘For goodness’ sake, I’d have lent you the money myself if I’d known, if Anna had spoken up.’ None of this made any sense.
But when Chris finished explaining, Oliver had to admit that Langford Properties probably wouldn’t have put the business his way if they’d known he was in financial trouble.
‘So what are you going to do about my sister?’ asked Chris, swiftly dismissive of talk about work.
‘I’m going after her,’ Oliver declared firmly. ‘Though whether she’ll have me back is another story. I’ve said some distinctly terrible things to her.’
‘I guess you have plenty of humble pie to eat. Anna has lots of pride, you know. But, for what it’s worth, I think she still loves you. Good luck.’
As Oliver put down the phone he knew he would need all the luck he could get. Chris didn’t know the whole story. He’d probably never have suggested attempting a reconciliation if he did. He would have told Oliver to keep well away from his sister with his ridiculous and unfounded accusations.
Chapter Ten
ANNA had been expecting Oliver ever since Chris’s phone call; she’d even stood at the window most of the day watching and waiting. At first she’d thought about scooting off somewhere, to London maybe, somewhere where he wouldn’t find her.
But she’d decided ultimately that the confrontation had to be made, final decisions reached. Divorce was her only option. There was no point in remaining married to a man who didn’t trust her, who would never trust her.
Chris had tried to persuade her to give it another go, but Anna knew that she daren’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t. ‘He’s not getting the chance to hurt me again,’ she’d declared fiercely.
She gave up her vigil when it grew dark. He wasn’t coming. Not today, anyway. Thank goodness. All this nervous agitation for nothing. She was in the kitchen preparing a light supper when Oliver pounded on the door. The sudden sound frightened her but she knew instinctively that it was him.
Her legs felt as though they were filled with lead as she made her way to the front door. It took an age for her to get there. And when she opened it she didn’t stand back for Oliver to enter but waited for him to speak, snapping on the outside light so that she could see him more clearly.
He looked dreadful. His golden eyes were sunk into deeply shadowed sockets, his cheeks were drawn, and it pleased her that he’d been suffering, too. Why should she be the only one to feel like hell?
‘Anna.’ He nodded.
So he wasn’t going to make the opening move; he was leaving it up to her. ‘Hello, Oliver. I’ve been expecting you.’ She deliberately kept her voice icy cold and impersonal. ‘A pity you didn’t phone, first. It would have saved you a journey.’
‘I understand that I’m not welcome,’ he said, his eyes narrowing on her pale face. ‘But surely you’re not going to turn me away?’
‘Is there any reason why I shouldn’t?’ she asked sharply. ‘Didn’t I make it clear that it’s all over between us?’
‘We need to talk,’ he said.
‘Why?’ she asked heatedly. ‘Because you’ve found out about the promise I made Chris? That I really do have a brother? It makes a difference, does it?’ She was ready to spit fire. If he thought he could come here and apologise and it would make things all right again then he was deeply mistaken.
‘It doesn’t make a difference—of course not,’ he retorted. ‘I was in the wrong and I admit that. Now can I please come in?’
Anna could see that she was not going to get away with keeping him on the doorstep so she reluctantly stepped aside, though she heaved a sigh to show her disapproval. ‘You’ve wasted your time. Nothing you can say will make any difference to how I feel.’
No man truly in love with his wife would accuse her of stealing family jewellery, he would at least discuss it first. But not Oliver. Oh, no, he’d acted first and thought last. And now, having realised that he’d made a mistake, it looked as though he wanted to put matters right.
And pigs might fly!
Anna closed the door behind Oliver and followed him through to the sitting room. It was a tiny room, nothing at all like the handsomely proportioned sitting room at Weston Lodge. And there was no escaping him.
His devastating masculinity filled the cramped space; his cologne invaded it; his very presence was a threat to her sanity. ‘Now say what you’ve got to say and then go,’ she said crisply, trying not to look at him, but it was impossible.
Oliver Langford could not be ignored. He wore the same black squidgy leather jacket that he had on the fateful day they’d first met, black sweater, black jeans. Sexy, dismayingly exciting.
He stood, apparently waiting for her to be seated before he took a chair himself. And Anna, who had been determined to remain standing, who had no intention of encouraging him to linger, found her legs would hold her up no longer. Please don’t let him stay long, she prayed, as she slid down on to the nearest chair. I’m not up to this.
Oliver sat too. ‘I made a huge mistake.’
‘I won’t argue with that,’ she said. ‘Is that why you’re here, to apologise?’
‘Something like that.’ And then he frowned. ‘Are you all right, Anna? You look very pale. Are you eating properly?’
Oh, Lord, she hoped he wasn’t going to question her over her health. There were some things she’d rather he didn’t know. ‘Of course I’m eating,’ she snapped. ‘As a matter of fact, I was just making myself some supper.’
‘Then make it supper for two. I’m famished.’
Anna groaned. Did he have to add to her torment? ‘It’s only a tuna sandwich.’
‘I like tuna.’
‘And some salad.’
‘That’s good.’ He pushed himself up. ‘I’ll come and help, shall I?’
Help or hinder? She needed neither.
‘There’s not really room for two in the kitchen, as you very well know. I can manage on my own. You stay here. I’ll bring it in on a tray.’
‘I seem to remember we worked well together at one time,’ he said with a sudden gleam in his eye. ‘It was a very cosy arrangement.’
Yes, so cosy that their bodies continually brushed against each other. It had been an exercise in physical excitement. They’d even made love in the kitchen. But that was then and this was now, and she didn’t want any reminders.
‘Cosy arrangements are no longer the order of the day,’ she told him coolly. ‘You’d best remember that. I’d rather you stay here.’
He shrugged. ‘You’re the boss.’ And reluctantly he sat down again.
When Anna reached the kitchen she stood with her back to the wall and took in several deep, steadying breaths. Although she’d been expecting Oliver, had decided exactly what she was going to say to him, she hadn’t been prepared for this adrenalin rush.
She had thought that every single one of her feelings had been destroyed, she’d thought all that remained was hatred. How, then, could she explain the fact that her insides had sizzled simply by looking at him?
Or was she receiving mixed signals? Was it sizzling hatred and not desire? Was it resentment that pulsed through her veins not hunger? How could she be sure? She did know, though, that if she didn’t hurry and finish the sandwiches he would come in search of her.
The thought electrified her into action and ten minutes later all was ready. Oliver had thoughtfully moved the coffee table between the two chairs and she set down the tray, congratulating herself on appearing calm and untroubled when it was a far cry from the feelings churning inside her.
They spoke little over supper although Anna knew it wouldn’t be long before Oliver started on what he’d really come here for. Was it to apologise? Was it to beg her forgiveness? Was it to say he’d made a grave error of judgement? Or was it to sort out their divorce?
‘What are you thinking?’
Anna looked across at Oliver. He had stopped eating and was watching her intently with those devastating golden eyes.
