His eyes on her tear-stained face, he put the tray on the cabinet and, sitting down on the edge of the bed, reached out a hand to tilt her chin. ‘Regrets?’
‘It’s too late for regrets.’ In spite of all her efforts her voice shook betrayingly.
He freed a strand of hair caught in her earring, curled it round his finger and tucked it behind her ear, before cupping her cheek.
There was tenderness in his eyes, in his touch, and, feeling an uncontrollable wave of love, she turned her face into his palm.
The breath hissed through his teeth and then he was holding her close, his mouth muffled in her hair. ‘I think it’s about time we were—’
The trill of a phone cut through his words.
He drew back and, taking the mobile from his jerkin pocket, walked across to the window, saying over his shoulder, ‘Don’t let your coffee get cold.’
There were two cups on the tray, and, as she turned to pick up the coffee-pot and fill them, she heard him say a business-like, ‘Lombard.’
A second later his voice changed to a softer, more caring tone. ‘Hello, sweetheart, how are you…?’
Fiona, Madeleine realised, and something inside her shrivelled up.
‘That’s good… Yes…yes, that’s right. No, I’m afraid we’re snowed up, you wouldn’t get here by road today. Probably not tomorrow, either…’
Her heart starting to race, Madeleine wondered if perhaps the other woman was in some clinic, and wanting to come home for Christmas?
‘Yes, that would be fine,’ Rafe agreed. ‘I’ll make the arrangements. As a matter of fact it will fit in very nicely with my other plans…’
If Fiona was intent on coming here, somehow she had to get away. The panicky thought was going through her mind when he added, ‘I’ll ring you back in a little while… Yes, yes, I will… Bye.’
He dropped the phone back into his pocket and returned to sit on the bed, making the mattress depress beneath his weight.
She was taken completely by surprise when he asked casually, ‘How do you feel about a trip to London?’
‘A trip to London?’ she echoed blankly.
‘I thought we might have lunch at the Denaught.’
‘Lunch at the Denaught… But I—I thought…’ She stammered to a halt.
‘That I meant to keep you a virtual prisoner?’
Annoyed by his amusement, she demanded, ‘Wasn’t that what you intended me to think?’
Taking a sip of his coffee, which he liked black and sugarless, he admitted blandly, ‘I did mention keeping you with me. But I was hoping to rely on persuasion rather than actual physical confinement.’
Wondering what kind of game he was playing, why he’d suggested having lunch out, she said, ‘Didn’t you just say we were snowed up?’
‘To all intents and purposes we are. But we have a small snowblower that Jack can use to keep the helicopter pad clear. Ever been in a chopper?’
‘No.’
‘Fancy the idea?’
The true answer was no. She was afraid of heights and didn’t much care for flying in any form. But it would be a chance to leave the house. A chance, once they were at the Denaught, to escape. If she excused herself to go to the powder room, hopefully she could get a taxi and be away before he missed her.
Trying to keep the excitement out of her voice, she read-justed the duvet and said, ‘Yes, that would be very nice.’
‘Of course, I’ll want your word that you won’t try to run. That you’ll stick with the role of the physiotherapist Harriet hired.’ Try as she might she was unable to meet his eyes and, with a hark back to childhood, the hand hidden beneath the duvet had the first and middle fingers crossed as, after the briefest hesitation, she agreed, ‘Very well.’
‘Good. Then while you shower and dress I’ll have a word with Jack and get everything organised.’
The second the door had closed behind him, she jumped out of bed, pulled on her clothes and hurried along the corridor to her flat.
As soon as she had dried herself and dressed she put on her make-up and coiled her hair, leaving the same small gold hoops in her ears that she’d worn the previous night.
She couldn’t wait to get away. It would mean leaving her cases, but once she was safely in London she could arrange to have them picked up. In the meantime, Eve would lend her whatever she needed.
Dressed in a cream blouse and a fine wool suit the colour of molasses, she pulled on a pair of matching suede boots and crept downstairs.
As soon as she’d found Mrs Boyce and retrieved her handbag, she would go back to the flat and phone Eve.
There was no sign of the housekeeper, and, having peered into several rooms, including the kitchen, she was returning to the hall when Rafe appeared wearing a hip-length leather jacket.
‘Lost?’ he queried.
‘I was looking for Mrs Boyce.’ Instinctively she spoke the truth.
‘Mary’s off until after Christmas. Annie will be filling in for her, when she gets here.’
‘Oh…’ Madeleine said. But, thinking back, she could vaguely remember Mrs Boyce mentioning it.
‘Were you wanting the housekeeper for any particular reason?’ he asked.
Doing her best to sound casual, she explained, ‘Last night I couldn’t find my handbag. I thought I must have left it in the living room, but when I went to look it wasn’t there. I presume Mrs Boyce must have found it and put it somewhere safe.’
‘Well, if that’s all it is, there’s no problem.’
‘But I need my purse and—’
He smiled lazily. ‘Don’t worry, I promise I’ll buy lunch. Now, about ready to start?’
There was money in her flight bag, and she would need money for a taxi. Her mind working overtime, she said, ‘Not quite… I’d better fetch a coat,’ and fled back upstairs.
It was a moment’s work to unpack her cream coat, and her flight bag was where she’d left it. Knowing how useful its contents would be, she hesitated, sorely tempted to take it.
But the last thing she wanted to do was alert Rafe. Giving up the idea, she unzipped it and felt for the money she’d slipped into the inner pocket alongside her passport and other papers.
The pocket was empty.
It must be the one on the other side. That too was empty.
Feeling as though she’d been kicked in the solar plexus, she made a more thorough search.
Everything else was there, but her money, her passport and other travel documents were gone.
Suddenly it all added up.
There were money and papers missing, a phone that wasn’t working, no keys in the doors, a handbag that had mysteriously disappeared…
Realising that the whole thing had been carefully planned, she clenched her teeth.
‘Got a problem?’
Looking up, she found Rafe was standing in the doorway, watching her.
Her voice tight with barely controlled anger, she began with the least important. ‘The phone up here isn’t working…’
‘So Mary said,’ he agreed blandly.
‘There are no keys to the doors, and, before you try to fob me off with excuses, I know they’ve been purposely removed…’
Those lazy green eyes regarded her calmly. ‘Then presumably you know why?’
‘Oh, yes, I know why. To prevent me locking myself in, and to enable you to come in and out whenever it suits you—which you’ve no right to do…!’
‘It is my house,’ he pointed out when she paused to draw breath.
‘It might be your house, but that doesn’t give you the right to walk in and take my belongings…’ she said breathlessly.
When he simply stood there and watched her, her voice shaking, she accused, ‘You came in while I was asleep—’ recalling the dream that the slight noise he must have made had triggered off, she shuddered, before going on ‘—and you stole my handbag and the money and papers from my flight bag. Don’t bother to deny it.’
‘I wasn’t goin
g to deny it,’ he said mildly. ‘Though stole is hardly the correct word. I’m merely keeping them safe until I’m satisfied you don’t intend to do anything silly.’
‘How dare you?’ she cried hoarsely. ‘You’ve no right to treat me like this—’
‘Perhaps we could leave the recriminations until later? The chopper’s warming up ready and Jack will be standing around waiting for us.’
Then, with a glance at her mutinous face, ‘Unless you’ve changed your mind about going? If you have, we could always stay at home.’
She had opened her mouth to say that she had no intention of going anywhere with him, when she hesitated. There would be no chance of escaping if they stayed here. Better to put on a reasonably amicable front and go with him. Then at the first opportunity she would slip away. Either Eve or Noel would pay her taxi fare…
‘Well?’
‘I haven’t changed my mind.’
Picking up her coat, he helped her into it. ‘Then let’s go.’
Outside it was a perfect winter’s day, with a cloudless sky as blue as lapis lazuli. Though the sun shone brightly, the air was glacial, and frost sparkled like glitter on a Christmas card.
Snow covered everything in a thick white counterpane, filling in hollows, redefining the landscape, piling on sills and ledges, burying shrubs and plants, clothing bare branches and weighing down the green arms of the pine.
The apron outside the front door had been partially cleared and, harnessed to what appeared to be a child’s sleigh, a small, sturdy pony waited placidly.
‘Courtesy of the previous owner, who was going to live in Australia,’ Rafe explained as he helped Madeleine into the sleigh and fitted himself in beside her.
Pressed as they were, hip to hip and thigh to thigh, there was just enough room for the two of them.
‘It belonged to his children… Cosy, wouldn’t you say?’ Robbed of breath by such close contact, Madeleine said nothing.
‘We do have a snowmobile,’ he went on, ‘but there’s something wrong with the engine and Jack is having to work on it.’
Finding her voice, she asked, ‘How far is it to the helicopter pad?’
‘Only a few hundred yards. But considering the conditions, I thought this mode of transport might be preferable to walking, and Jack says Hercules can do with some exercise.’
He made a clicking noise with his tongue, and apparently eager to live up to his name, Hercules set off with a will.
Though the sleigh ran easily enough, the pony’s short legs sank into the snow alarmingly until they got under the lee of a wall bordering the path to the flat, raised ground where the helicopter pad and hangar were situated.
Looking for all the world like a plastic bubble, the helicopter was waiting, its door open, its rotor blades turning gently.
Jack came to meet them and take charge of the sleigh while Rafe, a hand at her waist, escorted her across to the small silver machine.
After a momentary hesitation, she ducked her head and climbed in.
Rafe closed the door and, a moment later, swung in beside her. Then, having fastened both their seat belts, he put on the headset and turned his attention to the controls.
The engine note rose to a whine and a second or so later, the downdraught from the rotor blades whipping up the surrounding powdery snow, they lifted off into the blue, blue sky.
As they levelled out Rafe glanced sideways at her, noting her absolute stillness, the slim hands clasped into fists, the way her eyes were fixed blindly on the control panel.
‘OK?’ he asked above the engine noise. She nodded without moving her gaze.
Reaching out, he took the nearest hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
She gave him a small, wavering smile.
‘That’s my girl.’
After a minute or so she took a deep breath and forced herself to look down. She was rewarded by a truly fantastic view. A winter wonderland of glistening snow, a montage of fields and hedgerows and silver filigree trees.
Fascinated, she began to pick out small dwellings and isolated farms, streams and roads, and clearly, on the smooth white snow, the tracks of animals.
Then in no time at all, it seemed, the countryside gave way to town and they were coming in to land on the Denaught’s clearly marked helicopter pad.
With its high grey stone walls, its towers and turrets and battlements, the place looked more like a castle than a hotel, Madeleine thought.
On the same wavelength, as he so often was, Rafe raised his voice to tell her, ‘Long before it became one of London’s top hotels, the Denaught was a fortified country house belonging to Sir Ian Bolton.
‘After the Bolton family died out, the place stood empty for a time until some property developer realised its potential.’
When they touched down and the rotor blades slowed, he removed his headset and, unfastening their seat belts, queried, ‘So how do you feel about your first helicopter flight?’
She surprised herself by saying, ‘I enjoyed it. I hadn’t expected to, as I’m terrified of heights.’
‘It’s somewhat different from standing on the edge of a precipice.’
‘I pictured it as being just as terrifying.’ She laughed.
‘But still you came.’ His voice was dry.
She hoped he hadn’t guessed what she had in mind. It would make getting away all the more difficult, if he had.
But if the worst came to the worst, she would refuse point blank to go back with him. And if he tried to force her she would kick up a fuss, she decided as he came round to help her out.
The Denaught appeared to be very busy, and she was greatly cheered to see a red-coated doorman dealing with a steady trickle of taxis arriving at, and leaving, the main entrance.
There was much less snow here, a mere carpet compared to the thick covering they’d left behind them, which made walking easy even in fashion boots.
‘Better make the most of it,’ Rafe said, when she remarked on the fact. ‘If the forecast is right, we’ve more heavy snow coming overnight, with blizzards in our neck of the woods…’
‘Good afternoon, Mr Lombard…madam…’ A youngish, round-faced man in a smart navy-blue uniform appeared from nowhere. ‘Lovely day.’
‘It is indeed,’ Rafe answered.
‘If you and the lady want to go straight in, I’ll take care of things.’
‘Thanks, Steve.’
‘You seem to be well-known here,’ she remarked, as they made their way across the concreted area and through a side-entrance.
‘Yes, it’s a place I often use. Apart from the fact that they have an excellent chef, the helicopter pad is extremely useful, and I keep a car here,’ he added nonchalantly.
As they reached the foyer, with its crackling log fire and seasonal decorations, a grey-haired, distinguished-looking man wearing a cream carnation in his buttonhole, bore down on them.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Lombard…’
‘Afternoon, Charles. This is Miss Knight.’
‘Miss Knight…’ Obviously one of the old school, the manager made her a courteous little bow.
‘I must apologise for giving you so little notice, at a peak time,’ Rafe said.
Charles waved away the apology. ‘It’s always a pleasure to have you here, Mr Lombard.’
As their coats were borne away by one of his minions, he added, ‘Your usual table’s ready, and your guest has arrived.’
Rafe nodded. ‘Thanks.’
‘The young lady’s waiting for you in the private lounge.’ He indicated a door to the right.
Madeleine’s thoughts began to race as, a hand beneath her elbow, Rafe escorted her across the foyer towards the lounge.
Remembering his previous phone conversation, she felt hollow inside.
As Fiona couldn’t get to the hall, had he suggested that they meet here?
But if he had, why had he included her? Unless he’d decided that she was safer under his eye than left to her own devices.
After all, he had no idea that she and Fiona had ever met, no idea that she knew about the bargain he had made with his godfather.
And she was hardly likely to tell the other woman how he’d tricked her into going to the hall. So perhaps he was hoping to present her simply in the role of physiotherapist?
The role he had asked her to play.
Another thought struck her. Did he mean to take Fiona back in the helicopter? Though how did he intend to extract ‘reparation’ from her with his fiancée on the scene…?
Well, whatever his intentions, if it was Fiona waiting in there, he had a nasty shock coming.
But if it was Fiona, she’d rather tell him the truth now than have to face the other woman.
At the door to the lounge, her insides churning, she dug her toes in and asked jerkily, ‘Who is it that’s waiting?’
‘You’ll see.’
‘I’d like to know.’
Shaking his head, he said decidedly, ‘That would spoil the surprise,’ and, opening the door, propelled her inside.
She was aware of a log fire burning in what seemed to be a deserted room, before a small figure came hurtling towards her. Almost knocked off balance, she found herself being hugged with a warmth and enthusiasm that went straight to her heart.
‘Katie!’ she exclaimed, half laughing, half crying. ‘How you’ve grown. You’re getting really tall. You almost come up to my chin.’
‘You haven’t changed at all,’ Katie declared. ‘You’re just as beautiful as ever.’ She turned to Rafe and gave him a hug.
‘Thank you for bringing her, Uncle Rafe.’
Then, taking Madeleine’s hand, she went on happily, ‘I’m so glad you’re back. I’ve missed you. Aren’t you pleased to be home?’
Glancing up, Madeleine met Rafe’s ironic gaze. Dragging her eyes away, she said, ‘Of course I am.’
‘School’s broken up for Christmas, so when Mum told me you were staying at the hall so you could treat Uncle George, I asked if I could come and see you. But Uncle Rafe said you were all snowed up…’
So it had been Katie Rafe had been talking to when he used the endearment sweetheart, not Fiona.
‘Did you enjoy flying in the helicopter?’ Katie asked eagerly.
Love Without Lies Page 11
