by Sara Craven
‘Oh, God.’ Dana bit her lip. ‘What did she say?’
Nicola grinned. ‘She began with “Over my dead body” and went on from there, adding pretty forcefully that Adam’s life is his own business.’
She paused. ‘What I can’t figure is how Zac got involved. Unless he fancies Robina for himself. Since his father’s heart problems, he must be under real pressure to marry.’
‘Poor Robina,’ Dana said lightly, aware of a sudden inner jolt.
‘You must be joking. When Zac eventually picks a wife, the world will be filled with the noise of shattered female hearts. And not just because he’s mega rich,’ she added drily. ‘Rumour has it that he’s a tiger in the bedroom.’
‘But who believes rumours?’ said Dana, lifting a hand ostensibly to push her hair back from her face, but actually to conceal that she was blushing. Aware too that she was trembling inside.
Which I don’t need, even if it’s with rage, she told herself grimly as they went back to the house.
Later, studying herself in the bathroom mirror, she felt moderately satisfied with the result. Tonight, she’d gone for basic black, a slender ankle-length sheath, cut high to the throat, but swooping wickedly at the back. Her newly washed hair was swept up into a loose knot on top of her head, with a few tendrils allowed to escape and frame her face, without concealing the jet hoops in her ears. Her eyes expertly shadowed looked exotic and mysterious, while her mouth, by contrast, was all innocence, painted a delicate pale rose.
Sophisticated? Maybe. Alluring? Perhaps. Enough to catch Adam’s attention and keep it? In the lap of the gods. But it would not be for want of trying.
She waited deliberately until the last minute before going down to the drawing room, aiming to time her entry so that she’d be the last to appear. But she hadn’t allowed for Robina’s famous unpunctuality, as one glance told her that she and Adam were still missing.
Damn, she thought, laughing and bobbing a mock curtsy in response to Eddie’s cheerfully non-PC wolf whistle. And avoiding even a glance in Zac’s direction.
She’d spotted him, lean and elegant in dinner jacket and black tie as soon as she’d walked in, that one fleeting look inflicting a potent reminder of the last time she’d seen him in evening clothes. The cool magic of his mouth in the darkness. The brooding gaze absorbing her half-naked body in the candlelight.
All of it telling her remorselessly that she was still a long way from forgetting.
Swiftly, she joined Emily and the others, laughing and chatting as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
The room soon began to fill up, with groups spilling out on to the terrace and the lawns beneath, so it was easy to lose herself among them.
Waitresses, hired for the occasion, carried round trays of wine and soft drinks, and a pianist provided a muted background of popular music old and new.
In the middle of it all, Adam walked in tight-lipped, in marked contrast to Robina who was smiling radiantly beside him in a white dress with a tiered lace skirt and white flowers in her hair.
‘Dear child.’ Aunt Mimi’s voice rang out effusively above the buzz of conversation, bringing it to a virtual halt. ‘How lovely you look. Just like a bride.’
Oh, God, thought Dana watching Nicola and Eddie exchange resigned looks. The woman must have a death wish. And I suppose I should be grateful to her, judging by Adam’s expression. Yet, somehow, I’m not.
She wandered on to the terrace and chose some chicken salad from the buffet, more for the sake of having something to do than because she was hungry.
And it was here that Adam found her later, leaning against the stone balustrade and sipping a glass of Sauvignon Blanc as she watched half a dozen couples at the other end of the terrace moving slowly in the twilight to the music wafting from the drawing room.
He said quietly, ‘I’ve had about enough of this party. What the hell was Nic thinking of? I can’t wait to propose the toast and watch them all leave.’
‘Well, you’ll have to get used to it,’ she returned lightly, wondering where he’d left Robina. ‘Mannion was made for entertaining, and as Nic’s having her wedding reception here, think how many toasts that will involve.’
He grimaced. ‘I’ll cross that bridge if and when I come to it.’ He paused. ‘Dana, we need to talk, but it’s hopeless here, like living in a spotlight. Can I call you at work next week? Fix something up? Drinks, maybe, or dinner?’
She studied her wine, quelling the bubble of triumph within her. ‘Do you think you should?’
‘Why not? You’re a free agent, I presume.’
‘But you,’ she said, ‘are not. And I don’t want to cause a rift between you and Robina.’
He said with faint grimness, ‘You won’t. She’s a lovely girl and we’ve had fun, but it’s over. We want different things.’
Does she know that? Dana wondered with a touch of unease. However, that is not my problem.
Adam moved nearer. His voice dropped another level. ‘Do you know how bloody fantastic you look tonight?’
‘You mean the plan has actually worked? Or do I say—what, in this old thing?’
‘You knock every other woman in the room sideways,’ he said slowly. ‘I should have seen it years ago.’
But I thought you did...
For an instant she was jarred, but dismissed it as a niggle. Because the past didn’t matter when there was the here and now. And the promise of the future.
The familiar strains of ‘As Time Goes By’ came floating through the gathering darkness. Adam took the glass from her hand and set it on the balustrade.
He said, smiling, ‘I think he’s playing our tune. Come and dance with me.’
Dana went into his arms, feeling as if time had actually rolled back. That this was how it should have been seven years ago. But worth waiting for, she thought feeling the warmth of his hand on her bare back as they began to move slowly to the music.
She’d imagined this moment so many times. Known exactly how she wanted it to be. Dreamed of her response, skin, bone and blood, to his touch.
Yet the reality was different. Paramount was a kind of satisfaction at being held in Adam’s arms for all to see. And her emotional and sensual reaction would impact later when her hopes became certainties. All she needed was time. And privacy.
She closed her eyes, listening to the melody, trying to capture the right mood, only to be interrupted by Zac’s voice, coolly amused and much too close at hand.
‘It is time for the toast, my dear Adam, or do you wish me to act as your substitute?’
‘No, of course I’ll do it.’ Adam glanced round at the other pairs, still entwined, and raised his voice. ‘Back inside, everyone and let’s drink to the happy couple.’
As the terrace began to clear, Dana deliberately hung back, and was glad she’d done so when she saw Robina move to Adam’s side, sliding a possessive hand through his arm.
She felt a pang—not jealousy or even remorse. Perhaps it was sympathy mixed with relief that she was not responsible for the heartache heading Robina’s way. That Adam’s decision had been made when the weekend began.
He was in his element, very much the master of the house as he made his brief speech, his words warm, affectionate and amusing.
I wonder who’ll do this for us when we’re engaged, Dana thought as she raised her glass amid the laughter and applause. Perhaps Eddie.
Certainly there’d be no good wishes for her future with Adam coming from Zac, who was leaning in the drawing room doorway, his dark face expressionless.
Well, let him think what he wants, she thought biting her lip. Let him discover that he can’t win them all. It will be good for his soul if not his temper.
She set herself to enjoy the rest of the party, dancing with anyone who asked her, chatting to
the older couples who remembered her kindly and explaining a dozen tines how she and Nicola had chanced to meet again. Resigned to the knowledge that she would spend no more time with Adam that evening, with Robina apparently glued to his side.
Her face had begun to ache with smiling, her body tense with the effort of trying to be wherever Zac was not, so it was a relief when people started to go and she could relax a little.
There would be coffee and sandwiches in the drawing room for the house guests, but Dana decided to slip away to her room and made a quiet excuse to Nicola.
She paused in the dark hall, drawing a deep breath as she looked up at the unlit chandelier, remembering how Adam had once caught her here and kissed her.
From behind her Zac said softly, ‘Sadly, it is the wrong time of year for mistletoe, mia bella, so you must console yourself with memories.’
She spun round gasping to meet the mockery in his eyes.
‘You were spying on us?’ Her voice rose.
He shrugged. ‘I was merely coming downstairs. Adam knew, but you, mia cara, were too absorbed in your Christmas idyll to notice me.’
She said curtly, ‘I was a child.’
‘A child,’ he said, ‘learning to be a woman, as we both have cause to remember.’
But I don’t want to remember, she thought. I want to forget everything you’ve ever said or done to me, as if it never happened. Just as I don’t want to be here in the dark with you now.
Her voice shook. ‘I’m not in a reminiscent mood. Excuse me, please.’
She turned to head for the stairs, but Zac halted her, his hands lightly clasping her hips, drawing her back against him.
He said quietly, ‘Not yet.’
They were not alone. She could hear, as he must, the voices from the dining room, a mere stone’s throw away.
All she had to do was call out and someone would come.
She felt his lips gently brush the nape of her neck, then continue slowly downwards between her shoulder blades, his kisses delineating every bone in her spine with tantalising delicacy.
She heard herself gasp. Felt the sharp inner clench of her body—the sudden heaviness of her breasts as their tumescent nipples pressed against the concealment of her dress in potent self-betrayal.
Wrong, she thought feverishly. This is so wrong.
Although this was exactly why she was wearing this elegant tease of a dress. But it was Adam who should have been here with her, ready to fulfil the vivid desires of her imagination,
Adam whom she wanted to turn her in his arms and kiss her mouth, then untie the knot of her halter-neck and take her swollen, aching breasts in his hands.
Adam—to carry her upstairs to his room and lie between her thighs on a soft, cool bed.
Not this other—her nemesis, who had harmed her enough already. Who had to be stopped before this went any further.
‘Let me go.’ The words might be hers, but the voice, driven and husky, belonged to a stranger. ‘Let me go—now.’
For a moment, he did nothing. Simply stood, his warm breath stirring the loose tendrils of hair on the back of her neck. Then, as her own breathing quickened in what she told herself was panic, he lifted his hands from her hips and she was free.
Free to cross to the stairs. To climb to the place where they curved and pause, for some incomprehensible reason, to look back over her shoulder.
Only to find the hall below silent and empty.
Which in some curious way, was also how she felt.
‘Madness,’ she whispered under her breath. Total madness. And she went on up the stairs into yet more darkness.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ONLY NICOLA AND Eddie were in the dining room when she went down to breakfast the following morning.
‘Where is everyone?’ she queried, taking a seat.
‘Mum and Dad have gone to church to have another word with the Vicar, and the gang are playing tennis before it gets too hot.’ Eddie was heaping marmalade onto his toast.
‘Like my parents, you were wise to disappear last night,’ he added. ‘Because, not long afterwards, all hell broke loose over the bedtime snacks when Nic’s aunt Mimi, who must have been a pit bull in an earlier life, went back to the subject of Adam’s marital prospects.’
He shook his head. ‘Consequently, Zac is driving a tear-stained Robina back to London to clear her stuff from Adam’s flat, and he’s following them, presumably to make sure she doesn’t miss anything.’
‘While Aunt Mimi has taken to her bed with some eau de cologne and a bottle of aspirin,’ added Nicola, handing Dana her coffee. ‘Hurrah for a weekend in the country.’
‘Oh,’ Dana said slowly. ‘Oh, dear.’
‘My sentiments entirely,’ said Eddie. He studied her, frowning. ‘But I have to say you look as if you could use some aspirin and eau de cologne yourself.’
A good night’s sleep was all she really needed, thought Dana. And to wake to good news.
Zac’s absence was naturally a relief, but she’d counted on seeing Adam today to make some definite arrangements for their next meeting. His departure without a word was an unexpected setback.
She smiled with an effort. ‘Self-inflicted wound caused by too much champagne. I’ll recover.’
She paused. ‘I’m sorry about Robina. But it might teach Mr Belisandro to think twice before interfering in Adam’s private life.’
‘Apparently that was all her own idea,’ said Nicola. ‘She sent Zac a text asking him to meet her, then just got on the train and came. He told her it was a mistake and urged her to go back to London, but she wouldn’t listen.’
Dana made an effort to speak lightly. ‘Perhaps he’ll console her, as you suggested, by offering her the vacant post of Mrs Belisandro.’
Eddie gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘That,’ he said, ‘I doubt very much.’
It was a long morning and Dana soon regretted her decision to leave after lunch with the rest of the group. Mimi Latimer appeared at coffee time, clutching a handkerchief with the melancholy air of Joan of Arc at the stake.
She really sees herself as the injured party in all this, Dana thought fascinated, as she observed the Marchwoods’ unavailing efforts to divert her into a more cheerful frame of mind.
She finished her coffee quickly, and went up to pack, finding Mrs Harris coming out of her room.
‘I was asked to give you a note, Miss Grantham. It’s been rather hectic this morning so I’ve left it on your night table.’
‘Oh, thank you.’ Dana affected an air of nonchalance to hide the fact that her heart was beating nineteen to the dozen.
An envelope was propped against the bedside lamp, containing a single sheet of notepaper. And a four word message, with no signature.
‘Until we meet again.’
So Adam did think of me after all, Dana told herself exultantly.
‘Until we meet again,’ she whispered, crushing the note in her hand. ‘And it can’t be soon enough for me.’
* * *
However ten days passed before the receptionist at Jarvis Stratton told her there was a personal call for her on line two, and even then she thought it was probably Nicola.
Instead: ‘Hi,’ said Adam. ‘How’s the property market?’
At last, thought Dana, suppressing a sigh of relief. She kept her tone casual. ‘In good nick, thanks. How’s the world of public relations?’
‘Just now I’m more interested in the private kind. Can I persuade you to join me for lunch today?’
Dana hesitated. He was taking a lot for granted. Anyone else and she’d have invented a prior engagement, and suggested the following week.
But why take the risk, just for the sake of her pride?
‘You called at the right moment,’ she said.
‘I was just going to order a sandwich.’
‘Great. There’s a wine bar not far from you called Sam’s Place. Why don’t we meet there at one?’
‘Why not indeed,’ she said, adding, ‘Must go. There’s a call on another line.’
It wasn’t true, but she was afraid of letting her inner jubilation show.
She wished she’d picked something more interesting to wear than a navy skirt and a blue-and-white-striped blouse. But what could he expect in the middle of a working day? she asked herself, as she freshened her lipstick and applied a discreet misting of scent to her wrists and throat.
Adam was waiting at the bar when she walked in.
‘It’s busy,’ she said, glancing around her.
‘Always, but I’ve got us a table in the courtyard at the back, and a bottle of Frascati on ice.’
‘One of my favourites,’ said Dana, mentally resolving to restrict herself to a single glass.
‘Hardly the way to celebrate our proper reunion,’ Adam commented when they’d sat down and ordered their food. ‘But I didn’t want to wait any longer.’
Then why did you?
‘And I didn’t have your mobile number,’ he went on. ‘I should have asked at Mannion, only the situation became rather fraught.’
Or you could have asked Nicola...
‘I guess that’s now settled.’ She made herself sound matter of fact, and he sighed.
‘Yes, thank Heaven,’ he said, adding swiftly, ‘which is no reflection on Robina. She’s a wonderful girl and one day she’ll make some fortunate man very happy. Only it was never going to be me.’
It was the kind of assurance she wanted from him, so why did she still feel so edgy?
The arrival of a basket of crusty bread and a bowl of olives made things slightly easier.
Searching for a neutral topic, she said, ‘Do you still play tennis?’
‘Hardly ever. My interests are sea-based these days. I belong to a sailing club on the south coast, and I do a lot of surfing and scuba diving in Cornwall and other places. I also belong to a club that looks for wrecks.’
