Roberta Leigh - It All Depends on Love

by Roberta Leigh

  'Was your trip successful?' she managed to ask.

  'Very.'

  'May I talk to you alone?' she questioned softly.

  'I've a mass of things to do. Later maybe.' He walked past her at a run.

  Tessa went equally fast to the kitchen, though not fast enough to miss the expression on Ingrid's face as she followed more slowly on his heels, smug as a woman heading the queue at a Harrods sale!

  Throughout the morning Tessa waited to see Patrick, but it was well into the afternoon before she was summoned to his study.

  He was still in his city suit, indicating he had worked full stretch since returning home. Yet he no longer appeared tired, and she guessed that, like herself, he found hidden reserves when his workload demanded it. One more thing—among so many—that they had in common. If only she could make him realise it.

  She gave him a wide smile. 'I'm glad you're back, Patrick. I missed you very much.'

  He scowled. 'Only because you don't have enough to occupy you. You shouldn't have taken the job at Greentrees.'

  'I met you through it.'

  'That's another reason why!'

  ‘But——-'

  'No buts, Tessa, and no arguments. I made it quite plain what the position was between us before I went to the States, and I haven't changed my mind. I only called you in here to give you this.'

  This was a small, beautifully wrapped package, and, anticipating an expensive little trinket, she was struck dumb to find a double row of shimmering pearls. Real ones.

  'Like it?' he asked.

  'It's beautiful,' she gasped. 'But I—I can't accept it.' She closed the case and held it out to him.

  'Don't be childish. I want you to have it. It's because of you I found a fortune. I still have nightmares when I remember how close a junk man came to getting it!'

  'I don't need payment for what I did. Anyway, you've already given me a stereo. That was generous enough.'

  'And I want you to have the pearls too. Regard it as a gift from my company, if you prefer it,' he added, noticing her mutinous expression. 'Quit arguing, girl, and put it on.'

  Reluctant, she stood there doing nothing, and he took the pearls from her hand, put them round her neck and closed the diamond clasp. Then he drew her over to a small Chippendale mirror and pivoted her to face it.

  The alabaster of her skin reflected the luminous glow of the pearls, their coolness quickly warming as his nearness made the blood pound in her body. She gave a tremulous sigh. If only he'd encompass her the way his gift encompassed her throat! Her eyes met his in the mirror, and it was as if he read her thought, for a spark of flame lit the blue depths, and his lower lip moved slightly. But he said nothing, and silently stepped back from her.

  'Patrick, I——-'

  She broke off as Ingrid came in, her rap on the door in unison with her entry. Quick as a flash the pale eyes homed in on the pearls, then went to Patrick.

  'I hope I'm not interrupting you?' she asked.

  'No,' Patrick said.

  'Yes,'said Tessa.

  Ingrid's lips curved in an arc of amusement, and if Patrick saw it he pretended not to as he returned to the chair behind his desk.

  'I was giving Tessa a thank-you gift. Perhaps you can persuade her she deserves it. She seems to believe she doesn't.'

  'Of course you do, my dear.' Ingrid favoured her with a honeyed smile. 'It's childish to be modest about what you did. Accept the gift and enjoy it.'

  Mutely applauding the girl's acting ability—it was as good as her own!—Tessa shrugged. 'I can't see myself having any use for a necklace like this. It's far too grand to go with jeans and T-shirt!'

  'Look on it as a nest-egg and put it in the bank,’ Patrick interpolated.

  'I'm sure you'll find an occasion to wear pearls,' Ingrid said dulcetly. 'I think they'll go well with your Rolex.' She slipped her hand into her pocket and drew out Tessa's watch. 'I popped back to the pool after you'd gone the other day, and found it on the grass.'

  'Thank goodness.' Tessa reached for it, and slipped it round her wrist. 'I was afraid I'd lost it.'

  'I hope Tessa doesn't believe my gift's a Hong Kong copy,' Patrick chuckled.

  'This isn't a copy,' Ingrid trilled, her perfectly arched eyebrows rising. 'It's worth a couple of thousand pounds at least.'

  Patrick went motionless, and Tessa wished the ground would open and swallow her.

  'Will you leave us alone, Ingrid?' he requested.

  'Of course.'

  With a gracious nod she went out, and, as the door closed on her, Patrick's hard blue gaze probed Tessa's face.

  'Where did you get it?' he asked quietly.

  'I didn't steal it, if that's what you're implying!"

  'I never suggested you did. I merely want to know where you got it.'

  Here was the opportunity Tessa was looking for, and, drawing a steadying breath, she took it.

  'Mr Anderson gave it to me. He's——-'

  'What?' Patrick roared. 'Why you rotten little——-'

  'Oh, do be quiet, and let me explain,' Tessa shouted back. 'You see, I'm——-'

  'I see very well what you are!' he blazed. 'A cheap gold-digger!'

  'I'm not a gold-digger!'

  'And you're certainly not cheap!' he added.

  'If you'll shut up a minute, I can——-'

  'Invent another fantasy to fool me with? Forget it. Everything you've ever told me has been a He. You said you hadn't met Mr Anderson dll he gave you a job, and now you expect me to believe he gave you a watch worth thousands? What did you have to do to get it? Make eyes at him the way you've been doing to me? Is that why you make a play for older men? Because they're easier victims?'

  Grim-faced, he strode to the door, pushing her so roughly aside as she went to stop him that she slipped and crashed to the floor. Before she could rise to run after him, he disappeared from sight.

  Grimacing with pain, she got to her feet and headed for his sitting-room. But he wasn't there, and she hurried into the main house.

  'There you are,' Ingrid observed, emerging from the computer-room and closing the door behind her. 'There's no need for you to stay on any longer today. Mr Harper's going through one of the new software programs with Mike, and we'll be delaying dinner till rune.'

  'Suits me. I've no objection to working late.'

  'How conscientious of you! But it isn't necessary.' A pale hand came up to smooth the silver-blonde hair. 'I do hope I didn't embarrass you about your watch. If I had known you'd pretended it wasn't real, I wouldn't have mentioned that it was.'

  'Forgive me if I don't believe you!'

  'You think I want to get you into trouble?'

  'Damn right I do.'

  'Foolish girl.' Ingrid's lip curled pityingly. 'Don't you know how unimportant you are to me?'

  'Then why have you been so anxious to get rid of me?'

  'Because you're an embarrassment to Mr Harper, and the sooner you leave for good, the better.'

  It was all Tessa could do not to blurt out her identity. But Patrick had to be told first, and, swallowing her anger, she marched to the front door.

  'You'll soon have your wish, Miss Mortensen. After tomorrow I won't be a Girl Friday, and I definitely won't be your general dogsbody!'

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  With no chance of seeing Patrick till morning, Tessa did her best to relax, but, going to bed after a warm bath, she found herself staring through the window at the dark bulk of Finworth Hall, its lights glimmering through the trees.

  Maybe she would stroll over. If she struck lucky she might catch Patrick by the pool—he often went for a late-night swim. Slipping out of her nightdress and into a cotton skirt and blouse, she tiptoed from the house.

  The moon lit her way, a million stars sparkling above her. Lifting her face to the sky, she felt herself to be a microcosm in the universe, yet even if she was infinitesimal, her love for Patrick was immense. It was inconceivable that they wouldn't eventually share a life together
.

  Speeding across the grass, she peeped through the windows of the computer-room. Only Jenna Donaldson and her husband were there, and as she watched they switched off the lights and went out.

  She set off for the pool. It was deserted, a solitary lamp throwing a pale glow over the water, but through the drawn curtains of Patrick's sitting-room she glimpsed a warmer light, and moved towards it, her canvas shoes soundless on the York stone terrace.

  Poor darling, he must still be working. She had no right to disturb him, yet it was unthinkable to turn back without confessing the truth regarding the watch, and Uncle Martin's being her godfather.

  Should she say what she had to say baldly, or lead up to it? She sighed. Regardless of how she planned it, it would take its own course. Yet the end result would be the same: Patrick was going to be livid, until his sense of humour got the better of him and he saw the funny side of the whole episode.

  More importantly, he would admit he loved her, and accept her career.

  Excitement burgeoned, threatening to overwhelm her, and she ached to call his name, to see his face as he realised how badly he had misjudged her this afternoon. Almost affectionately she tapped the watch on her wrist. He would fall over himself with contrition when he remembered his cruel remarks. Gold-digger indeed!

  Eyes sparkling mischievously, she reached the french windows. The curtains were almost drawn, and, wishing to savour the sight of him, she moved forward and peeped through a chink in the brocade.

  Burning the midnight oil? Working on a problem? Who was she fooling? The strength seeped from her, paralysing all movement. It couldn't be true. She wasn't seeing straight!

  Closing her eyes, she squeezed them tight, then opened them again. But nothing had changed and she found herself staring at the same scene—Patrick lying on the settee with Ingrid in his arms!

  White-hot fury engulfed Tessa, and she wanted to yell and scream. But no sound emerged from her dry throat, and she remained mute, and motionless as a statue. Yet could a statue bleed, cry, shatter into a thousand pieces and still remain intact? She gazed down at herself, surprised to find she was the same, when she knew she would never be the same again.

  How blind she was, so busy playing her own game against Patrick that she had never realised he was playing a sadistic game with her. His jealousy of her was nothing but male ego!

  Tessa wanted to walk away from the window, but masochism impelled her to stay, watching as pale arms wrapped themselves round a bronzed neck, and pulled the wide-shouldered, muscular body down upon the slender one. She saw the avid red mouth press itself on a mouth that had once voraciously drunk from hers, and the soft moan of pain that escaped her came from the very depths of her being.

  Blindly she turned and ran back the way she had come, prey to a thousand bitter thoughts, though the bitterest was the admission of her stupidity.

  Once in her room, anger took over. Patrick was a swine to have made love to her when he was having an affair with Ingrid. She would have respected him more him if he had bluntly admitted it.

  True, he had told her not to try to seduce him, even occasionally made a half-hearted attempt not to kiss her, but if he had genuinely wished to dissuade her from making a play for him he would have come clean about Ingrid. Much as she hated admitting it, he was having two women on a string.

  Now that she understood the reason for Ingrid's bitchiness to her, her anger against the girl faded. She almost felt sorry for her for not realising what a woman-iser Patrick was! Or did she believe that if she hung around long enough he would eventually marry her? Whether or not he did, he wasn't going to be faithful to her. A man who enjoyed two-tuning women wasn't the steadfast kind.

  Only one thing was certain. She wasn't going to be around to witness what happened.

  Pacing her bedroom, Tessa considered whether to walk away from the entire situation without saying goodbye. She was sorely tempted, but decided it was the coward's way out. Besides, it would give her great pleasure to disclose her identity and cut Patrick down to size.

  Strange to remember this had been her initial intention when first embarking on her charade, though the cut wouldn't have been a painful one, merely a little nick to warn him not to judge people by their appearances. But now she determined to cut him deeply, and she toyed with a hundred ways of making him suffer, each one more painful than the last.

  Finally, exhausted by her rage, she sat by the window, watching the moon glide across the sky and dawn slowly send pink and lemon fingers across the lightening blue. As colours took form, her rage faded, replaced by a resolve to carry on with her life and not allow him to make her bitter.

  A few hours ago she had believed her world was at an end, but she saw this wasn't true. Using her skill as a surgeon to make people well was still supremely important to her and, once immersed in her work, she would regain her perspective and realise Patrick wasn't the only man in the world for her.

  Fine words, she reflected bleakly, for he was the only man in her world.

  'You're pale as a ghost,' Mrs Benson greeted her next morning. 'Not having a relapse, are you?'

  'No. Just a lousy night.'

  'You're working too hard at the Hall. You came here for a rest, but you've done nothing except rush back and forth like a demented hen!'

  'I won't be rushing in future,' Tessa stated. 'I'm returning to London. I'm fit enough to work and the hospital needs me.'

  'A bit sudden, this decision?'

  'Not really. I've thought about it for days.'

  'I wish I were a fly on the wall when you make your confession to Mr Harper!'

  'I don't plan to tell him.’

  Mrs Benson's mouth fell open. "Why not? Is anything wrong?'

  At the concern on the woman's motherly face, Tessa almost confided in her. Yet if she did, she would burst into tears, and she was damned if she was going to shed any more over Patrick.

  'What began as a joke doesn't seem funny any longer,' she murmured. 'I'm going to give in my notice and quietly disappear.'

  'What will happen when you come here again? You're bound to bump into Mr Harper sooner or later.'

  ‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,' Tessa hedged, reluctant to say that when she did visit her godfather she'd make sure she remained within the confines of the house and garden.

  Mrs Withers was as astonished as Mrs Benson to learn she was leaving the Hall. 'But the woman Mr Patrick engaged isn't starting for another month.'

  'I'm sure you can manage without me,' Tessa said brightly.

  'That's as maybe. But you seemed so happy here.'

  'I was. But I won't be if I stay on. I'm bored with country life, and fancy moving back to London.'

  'I dare say it's too quiet here for a bright young girl like you. It's time you started thinking of your future. When are you leaving?'

  'Today.'

  'Don't believe in giving much notice, do you?'

  Wishing it were possible to go this very second, Tessa forced a smile. 'You know how inconsiderate the young are!'

  'Get away with you!' Mrs Withers scolded. 'You're a kind-hearted girl, and thoughtful too. It's my guess Miss Mortensen's said something to upset you.'

  'If that was my reason for leaving, I'd have walked out the day I arrived!'

  'Does Mr Harper know you're going?'

  'Not yet. He's next on my list.' Not giving herself time to chicken out, she almost ran to the computer-room.

  Patrick was in earnest conversation with the Donaldsons, and, beyond a curt nod in her direction, ignored her, his attitude showing he still thought she had wheedled her Rolex out of a foolish old man.

  So what? His opinion of her no longer mattered. Patiently she stood her ground, and he finally came across to her.

  'Are you waiting for me?'

  'Yes. I have to talk to you.'

  'Later. I'm up to my eyes.'

  'When later?'

  He frowned. 'Come to my study at four.'

  Knowing the
impossibility of doing any work—she was in too much of a state of tension—Tessa returned to Greentrees and packed her cases.

  'What did Mr Harper say?' Mrs Benson enquired, watching her push her lunch back and forth across her plate.

  'I haven't spoken to him yet. I'm meeting him later.'

  'It wasn't such a good joke after all, was it?'

  'No, Mrs B. It wasn't.'

  Luckily the woman knew when to be quiet, and, grateful for it, Tessa managed to eat a little lunch before going to her room.

  At one minute to four, she rapped on the door of Patrick's study and went in. He was sitting behind his desk—barricading himself from her? she wondered—his face stony, his fingertips together.

  'I'm leaving today,' she announced baldly.

  'You haven't much alternative, have you?'

  'Not after the way you're so ready to judge me. You know, Patrick, there's one thing you haven't taken into account. If I were really the gold-digger you think me, I'd have helped myself to a few of the things I found in the attics. You'd never have known, and I could have been thousands of pounds richer.'

  'That's true,' he granted. 'I thought of that while I was waiting for you just now.'

  'And?' she questioned, hoping this had made him reassess his condemnation of her. Not that it would make any difference to her leaving here. With Ingrid as his lover, there was no future with him for herself.

  'I don't think you're a thief, Tessa,' he admitted slowly. 'But I believe you use your youth and—and your not inconsiderable charm, to get what you want.'

  His reply gave her the impetus she required to wipe the supercilious smile off his face. When she told him who she was, he would be laughing the other side of it! What pleasure to watch him squirm. Then she would laugh and confess that her entire performance—including her crush on him—had been an act.

  'I'm not running away with my tail between my legs,' she began.

  'I didn't expect you to. You're nothing if not brazen.'

  'And you're a rotten judge of character!'

  'If you came in here to have a slanging match, I suggest you go.' '