by Penny Jordan
He marvelled a little at himself that he was foolish enough to believe that giving her the news would influence her attitude towards him—soften her antagonism, make it easier for them to communicate, to… To what? Become lovers… But it wasn't just her body in his bed that he wanted. Had that been the case…
Admit it, he derided himself, you're practically obsessed with the woman and you always have been right from the start. You don't just want her, you love her…
The telephone rang and he reached for the receiver. It was the call he had been waiting for. As he replaced the receiver he thought that Helen had been worth cultivating, even though at times he had found annoying her possessiveness, her unsubtle determination to turn what was really little more than a business acquaintanceship into something much more personal.
At times he had felt quite sorry for her. She was an attractive woman with a good career, but she was one of those women who thought that her looks and her sexuality entitled her to preferential treatment in life.
She was looking for a rich husband, or a rich lover, and her way of going about her hunting repelled him. He couldn't help contrasting her attitude with Sage's. Sage who was so independent, so proud, so reserved…or who had been until she had broken down in front of him and told him…
He felt his stomach muscles tense as awareness wrenched through him. He had been a fool not to take advantage of that weakness. Not to… Not to. what… fling her to the floor and possess her? That wasn't the way he wanted it to be between them. He wanted her… of course he did, but he wanted more than her sexual compliance… her reluctant and angry admission that she desired him. He didn't want to master her, to dominate her, to use her own need against her, he didn't want to subjugate her in any way at all. He wanted her to come to him freely, proudly, lovingly. He wanted the moon, he told himself wryly. He was never going to get her to hand her heart to him on a plate, but he couldn't prevent his mind from dreaming.
As he drove towards Cottingdean he wondered how Sage would react to his news. She wouldn't be expecting to see him as his extended deadline was not yet up and she would probably anticipate that he would telephone. She would already be tense; even more so because of her mother's serious condition. He made a silent prayer that all would be well. He liked and admired Liz Danvers. Had found her a charming and sincere woman and had marvelled a little that she should have produced this volatile, quicksilver Sage.
The drive took longer than he had expected. When he reached the house it was quiet, although lights seemed to blaze from every one of its windows. He wondered if perhaps Liz Danvers…
His body tensed as he looked up towards the upper storey. He wondered which window was Sage's… He even wondered how she had furnished that room, and then laughed at himself for acting like a boy daydreaming over some unreachable idol. He parked his car and got out.
When he rang the doorbell, the door was answered by Faye. He asked for Sage and Faye frowned at him. Sage was still in her mother's study—the last time Faye had looked in on her, she had been curled up in a chair like a small child, fast asleep, and Faye hadn't the heart to wake her.
She had taken Sage's advice and talked with Camilla about her own past. Her daughter's reaction, her shock and her anger, her immediate love and warmth… her maturity and compassion had taught Faye a great deal about her daughter and even more about herself. This child she had given birth to, had loved and protected, was now almost an adult. She realised that she had tended to forget at times that Camilla was David's daughter as well as her own; that she had inherited in full measure her father's wonderful clear-sighted vision, his compassion, his depth of understanding.
'I'm afraid Sage isn't seeing anyone at the moment,' she told their visitor, but he ignored her, firmly stepping past her so that she had no option but to let him in and close the door behind him.
'She'll see me,' Daniel assured her. 'She's expecting me…'
Was she? Sage had said nothing to her. Faye glanced helplessly and betrayingly towards the study door, and Daniel took advantage of her hesitation to walk towards the door, saying coolly, 'She's in here, is she? Don't worry, I'll announce myself…'
'You can't go in there…' Faye started to protest, but it was already too late. He was opening the door and going inside.
Sage was lying curled up in one of the chairs, one hand under her face. She had been crying and he could see the oddly touching traces of mascara on her skin. She looked like a child, he reflected, watching her, but she wasn't a child, and just the sight of her made his heart contract and his body go weak.
The room was half in shadow, illuminated by the fire and a single lamp on the desk behind her.
As he walked towards her he saw some photographs lying on her lap. Some of them had spilled down on to the floor and he bent automatically to pick them up, tensing when he recognised Scott's youthful features smiling back at him.
A mixture of pain, anger, and resentment churned through his stomach. He had a momentary impulse to pick up the photographs and hurl them into the fire. Was it never going to end… was she never going to forget, to stop looking into the past and face the future? He was jealous, he recognised. Jealous of Scott. Jealous of her love for him. So searingly jealous in fact that he wanted to destroy if not the man then at least his celluloid image.
As he bent over her she moved and frowned, her eyes slowly flickering open. For a moment she looked at him without pretence or defences, and what he read in them made him ache to reach out to her, to take hold of her, but already her expression was changing, becoming distant… veiled…antagonistic. She swung her feet to the floor and tried to stand up, but he was standing in her way.
'Daniel!' she demanded huskily. 'What are you doing here? Who let you in?'
'I came in answer to your ultimatum,' he told her curtly. 'Remember it? Or were you too busy wallowing in self-pity reliving the past? My God, Sage… What's wrong with you? You're an adult woman, not a girl. You…'
Muddled with sleep and emotion, it was several seconds before Sage realised what he meant. He had picked up her photographs and now he threw them down on the desk in a gesture of disgust. Impulsively she caught hold of his sleeve so that he turned to face her.
'Daniel, you don't understand… Scott is—'
'Oh, I understand all right,' he interrupted her roughly. 'I understand… And to think…'
His face grew bitter… hard… his expression chilling her.
'There was a time when I thought that you and I could have a future together, that maybe… just maybe you'd come to your senses and realise… You want me and I certainly damn well want you… and I promise you this, in my bed you'd have found a hell of a lot more pleasure than any other man has ever shown you…'
He stopped and cursed himself under his breath as he saw her expression—he was going about this in completely the wrong way. He knew her well enough to realise how she was going to react to that kind of announcement and he couldn't really blame her, but he had been so shocked, so angry, so bitterly hurt to discover her crying over Scott—it had been like a blow delivered right against his heart. He knew that he could never endure wondering how often she was thinking about Scott, how often she was wanting him, aching for him, even though he also knew that if only she would admit it the emotions they generated for one another between them were far more powerful than anything she had ever felt for Scott McLaren. But she wouldn't admit it, and suddenly the thought of forcing her to do so was like a bad taste in his mouth.
Groggy with sleep, Sage stared at him. He was jealous… jealous of Scott, she recognised, with a surge of emotion so intense and so betraying that she almost reached out to him and took hold of him. Just in time she stopped herself and said instead, 'Daniel, you don't understand—'
'Like hell,' he interrupted her furiously. 'I understand well enough—and to think I came here tonight hoping, wanting… Well, I might as well tell you, since that's why I'm here… You're off the hook, Sage, your precious village is
safe… they've rerouted the road.'
She stared at him. 'They've what? But they can't have done. Not at this stage.'
'It was always on the cards,' Daniel told her brusquely. 'But you were so determined to win out against me, to put one over on me, that you never seemed to realise it. You shouldn't take things so personally,' he told her acidly.
'Daniel, I…'
There was so much she wanted to explain to him. So much she wanted to share with him. The words trembled on the tip of her tongue—just one sign of encouragement from him and they would have come tumbling out… but instead he turned his back on her and said grimly, 'Well, I'll be on my way. I apologise for interrupting your wallow in self-pity. Shame that Scott isn't here to witness it, isn't it? Goodbye, Sage!'
Somehow the way he said it made her body tense as it recognised something her heart didn't want to know. He was walking out on her. There would be no other time, no second chance…but before she could stop him, before she could say anything, Faye came in, saying quickly, 'Everything's arranged, Sage, they're putting off the operation for another twenty-four hours…'
Daniel was already in the hall—another moment and he would be gone. She tried to follow him, but her feet were numb, she couldn't move and as she tried to stumble after him she heard the front door opening and closing.
She reached it just as his car started to move down the drive. She turned and, as Faye looked into her face, her sister-in-law demanded, appalled, 'Sage, what is it… what's wrong?'
'Nothing,' Sage lied bleakly. 'Nothing at all.'
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
'I can't believe it, Scott… even now. And to think all these years you've known and you've never—'
'I couldn't tell you,' Scott interrupted. 'I promised Dad I wouldn't and, remember, Sage, for all I knew your mother… our mother… might have told you and you might not have wanted to get in touch. When Dad told me you'd been on the phone…'
'My brother…' Sage repeated softly. 'My twin. That's why I always felt so close to you. So—'
'It's been the same for me,' Scott assured her. 'Better in some ways because I knew—worse because knowing made me want to be with you, to share it with you—'
'And you're a father—two boys…my nephews…' she suddenly realised with laughter that was closer to tears.
They were all at Cottingdean. Scott and Lewis had arrived last night, and from the moment of his arrival Lewis had taken charge of them all, in a way that made Sage realise all too well how easily her mother would have fallen in love with him.
He was so alive… so very vigorous and male, even now… he must have been such a contrast to Edward, Edward who, even as a child, Sage had recognised as being someone who needed constant care, constant cherishing.
How painful it must have been for her mother to love Lewis and yet know that she could not leave Edward. She knew how painful it had been, how much she had longed to go with Lewis, to… She must make sure that he had an opportunity to read the last diary at least, before he left for the hospital—to understand… Alaric Ferguson had told them that there was little point in their being at the hospital during the operation, but Lewis had ignored this advice and was insisting that he was going to be there, and seeing the anxiety, the fear in his eyes, Sage hadn't had the heart to demand that they all share that vigil with him.
She sensed that he wanted to be alone with her mother… that he needed to be there with her.
He was her father, she his daughter, although they were both still a little wary of that relationship, a little hesitant… both of them remembering the past.
Three hours before the operation was scheduled to take place, Lewis McLaren left for the London hospital. Sage watched him go with mingled feelings. The hours passed slowly and for comfort she sought out Scott who came to stand close beside her, his arms around her. She felt so at ease with him… so relaxed. It surprised her how easily she had accepted their relationship, how complete it made her feel… how right. Knowing the truth highlighted the difference between how she felt about Scott and how she felt about Daniel.
Even in the past she had desired Daniel… had loved him, probably, but had not been able to recognise that fact, her perceptions clouded by the intensity of her involvement with Scott.
She told Scott as much, laughing at his astonishment. 'You love Daniel Cavanagh! We still keep in touch, you know. He's a fine guy, but the two of you…'
'Oh, he doesn't love me,' Sage assured him wryly. 'Although—'
'Although what?'
'Although he wants me,' she told Scott mischievously, and was amused by the sternness of his expression.
'Friend or not, if he thinks I'm going to stand by and let him sleep with my sister—'
Sage laughed at his outrage.
'I'm a grown woman, Scott,' she reminded him gently. 'Not a child. But you're right. The way I feel about Daniel is too powerful to allow me to have a relationship with him that's only sexual. It would be too painful, too potentially humiliating for me when it was over. I don't think I'd be able to trust myself to take my rejection gracefully…I never was very good at accepting rejection,' she added wryly.
Scott hugged her. 'When I knew the truth, you'll never know how much I wanted to share it with you, but Dad told me he'd given your mother his word that you wouldn't be told. It seems that she felt that even if you were told you wouldn't believe it, that you'd think she was lying to you to keep us apart—and there was still Edward…'
'Yes,' Sage agreed quietly, 'she was probably right.'
And then of course later, when she was older, when Edward was dead, well, she had hardly given her mother the opportunity or the encouragement to confide in her, had she? And yet now she realised how much her mother must have always wanted to tell her, to share with her her own pain and need.
'Does he still love her?' Sage asked him simply.
'Yes. He's never stopped loving her.'
'Then why, when my father…when Edward died, why didn't he come to her?'
'Pride, I guess… She'd been pretty brutal with him, telling him she'd never loved him… I guess he told himself that the next time, if there was to be a next time, she could do the running. I guess he never allowed himself to believe that she'd want him to go to her.'
'But he's here now…'
Scott's eyes were sad as he asked emotionally, 'Wouldn't you be, given the circumstances?'
Both of them were silent, sharing their thoughts, their emotions.
Had she known Scott all her life, had she shared this closeness with him, would she have been a different person, a more whole person, a gentler person? Sage wondered, and then ruefully made herself admit that she probably would not; that she would all too likely have dominated and bullied him, that she would have been destructively possessive and jealous with him, and that in many ways it was perhaps just as well that they had grown to adulthood separately—that she had learned that it was not possible nor right that one person should ever wholly possess or dominate another, even out of love— before she experienced this closeness, this completeness with another person.
Scott was her brother, her twin, her other half, but he had other important relationships, with his father, his wife… their children, and as he talked to her about them and she heard that love and pride echoing in his voice it underlined her own aloneness, and traitorously it' was to Daniel that her thoughts turned. Daniel who infuriated her, aroused her, unnerved her… Daniel who had turned his back on her and walked out on her before she could explain, before she could make him understand that she hadn't been indulging in some foolish reliving of the past, in daydreaming over Scott.
Daniel… her face grew shadowed as she acknowledged how much she wanted him to be here, how much she wanted him to share this special time with her, and emotively she said to Scott, 'You must be missing your wife…your sons… You should have brought them with you.'
The surprised, pleased look he gave her warmed her.
'I wanted to b
ring them,' he admitted, 'but Averil said that this was a very difficult and special time for the three of us… Dad, you and me… She sends her love, of course, and the boys are dying to meet you. Averil knows all about you, but the boys… Well, as you can imagine, they're thrilled to discover that they have an aunt…'
'I'm looking forward to meeting them already,' Sage laughed, her laughter fading as she added abruptly, 'Did Mother… does Mother… does she know about your wife, your family…?' She thought how painful it must be for her mother knowing that she had a son, grandchildren… and knowing at the same time that she would never be able to get close to them.
'Yes,' Scott told her simply. 'But she's never met them. She and Dad…' He shrugged his shoulders. 'Well, there was so much bitterness there—on Dad's part anyway— that I felt I owed it to him not to… and then there was you. I felt I couldn't… We all decided that it was best that things remain as they were.'
'And between you, the three of you decided that I couldn't be trusted with the truth,' Sage suggested wryly but without rancour.
What was the point in working herself up into a rage about something which was in the past, something which could not be altered? Perhaps their joint decision had been the right one… If she had been told the truth then, when she had lacked the maturity to see the sacrifices her mother had made, to be aware of her suffering, she would probably have turned against her… she would probably in her possessive and immature intensity have demanded and expected from her mother and from Scott a far too intense depth of emotional support. She would have made demands on them which it would have been impossible for them to meet. Idealistic, impossible demands which in the end would have destroyed their relationship and maybe her along with it.
Years ago, when she had accused Daniel of gloating over Scott's desertion of her, he had told her bluntly— and, she had thought, cruelly—that she was emotionally immature, that she was looking to Scott to put right all the perceived wrongs of her childhood… that she was looking to him to fulfil too many roles in her life and that the real need she was hiding was her need to come to terms with herself, to accept herself… to like herself.
