Confrontation

by Sarah Holland

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The journey home was akin to returning from Mars in a space shuttle. As Stephen drove across the border from the countryside to the city, she saw the orange street lamps, the neon signs, the skyscrapers and the red-gold smog clinging to the Turneresque sky above London and felt as though she was hurtling through the earth's atmosphere from outer space.

  Leaving the cottage had been like burying her own heart. Driving back to the hotel in a squad car had been a test of nerves, because she had known Mark would have checked out, and she was right, but it still hurt to hear the receptionist say it in such a friendly, polite manner. She expected he would have gone to see Jack Rachey on the way home, to get the contract signed. He wasn't the type of man to let personal matters affect business. Then the long drive back to London had begun, and now they were nearly home.

  'You must be exhausted,' Caroline said sympathetically to Stephen when they finally pulled up outside the house her flat was in. 'Come in for some coffee and something to eat.'

  'Delighted,' groaned Stephen.

  'I feel a bit mean asking you to bring my case in,' she said, 'but my ankle...'

  'I could take you to hospital,' he said at once. 'Perhaps you ought to have X-rays, see if the bone's broken.'

  'No, it's getting better already,' she shook her head. 'Besides, Mark felt for a break when it happened, and I trust his judgement.'

  'It doesn't hurt any more, then?'

  'My ankle is relatively pain-free,' she said huskily, and got out of the car.

  The flat seemed strange. Everything was so familiar. Yet everything had changed. Her life had changed during those snowbound days in Cornwall. She was in love for the first time, and the pain that went with her discovery was wrenching. She didn't want to be back here. She wanted to be in the cottage, with Mark, discovering him, falling in love with him, making love...

  She cooked Stephen a cheese omelette, served it with salad.

  Stephen ate hungrily. 'It must have been awful for you,' he said between mouthfuls, 'stuck in that cottage alone with Mark Rider for a weekend!'

  Caroline flicked her gaze from him. 'Yes...' Her voice was husky with pain, yet she felt a sick excitement too, as though something wonderful had happened, something incredible and fantastic, and she wanted to shout it to the whole world, tell everyone her secret. But Mark didn't feel the same. So how would she ever be able to tell anyone? It would have to be a secret forever... and suddenly she no longer wanted to keep secrets. Not from him. Not from Mark.

  'Quite appalling.' Stephen shook his head. 'The way he just walked out like that, I mean. He didn't even say goodbye to you, did he? He must dislike you as much as you dislike him.'

  She was pale, silent, her face averted.

  'What did you do to pass the time?' Stephen asked. 'Or did you just ignore each other?'

  'We argued,' she said with a pained smile, and remembered all those arguments with a deep need to return to them, to listen to him talk, watch his handsome face and lean body.

  'He really is an arrogant bastard, isn't he?' Stephen drawled, hands behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. 'Everything you told me he was, in fact. Tough, cynical, ruthless. Poor Caroline, getting stuck like that with no one to turn to but him.'

  Caroline drew a shaky breath. Was Venetia saying all of this to Mark right now? Jealousy tore through her with such savagery that she could scarcely breathe. How dared he go to another woman, she thought irrationally, how dared he? He's mine...the possessive phrase caused her agony and ecstasy. At last someone who really was hers, all hers, nobody else's. Even if it remained forever a secret, she knew deep inside that Mark was hers. But she could never tell him...

  'Never mind, darling.' Stephen was smiling at her. 'It's all over now. You're safe, back home, and with me. We can start making plans. An engagement party, I think. Then there are the wedding arrangements to discuss. My parents want to meet you next weekend... oh, there are a million things to do!'

  She looked at him suddenly, shocked by the turn the conversation had taken. Guilt washed over her in waves. I can't leave him like this, she thought. I can't let him talk about a future that is not going to happen.

  'Stephen...' she began slowly.

  'I know,' he touched her hand. 'You need to rest before we start thinking about --'

  'No.' She got to her feet, folding her arms, walking to the window. The London roof-tops seemed to gleam slate grey. 'It's not that, Stephen. I'm afraid it's rather more serious than needing a rest.'

  He frowned. 'What do you mean?'

  She drew a very deep breath. No point in mincing words. Just be clear and honest and gentle, she thought, and said, 'I mean I can't marry you, Stephen. I'm sorry.'

  There was a long silence.

  Turning, she saw his stricken face and was consumed with guilt. 'I should never have accepted this ring,' she said unsteadily. 'It was just such a shock, and you'd gone to so much trouble, that I --'

  'I can't believe you're saying this!' He spoke hoarsely. 'You were so sure before you went away. You'd agreed to meet my parents, you'd --'

  'I did tell you I needed to think about it, Stephen.'

  'And over the weekend you did?'

  She flushed, nodding.

  Stephen looked away. There was a long silence. He raked a hand through his blond hair, his smile angry. Suddenly, he asked, 'What made you change your mind?'

  Caroline didn't see the point in hurting him by telling him about Mark. So she said, 'I'm sorry, Stephen. The truth is I just don't feel ready for marriage yet.'

  There was another long silence. Then he nodded, unsmiling. 'I can understand that. I mean—obviously, I'm hurt. But at least it's clean cut. It's all above board and honest. After all,' he gave a wry laugh, 'it's not as if there's another man involved!'

  Caroline went white, her face pinched.

  'I could take anything but that.' Stephen raked a hand through his hair. 'If it was another man—well, I'd go completely berserk. But as the only man you saw since we got engaged was that swine Mark Rider...'

  'We can still be friends,' Caroline said huskily, desperate to get off the subject of Mark, 'can't we?'

  'Of course.' Stephen got to his feet, his smile pained. 'But I'd rather leave it for a week or two if you don't mind.'

  'I quite understand.' Caroline stepped towards him, handed him the engagement ring.

  Stephen took it, and stared at it.

  Caroline put a hand on his handsome cheek. 'If there's anything I can do...'

  'Don't touch me like that!' Stephen winced, brushing her hand away. 'My God, I want to keep my dignity!'

  Caroline stepped back at once, eyes filled with sympathy.

  'Just keep away from me for the next few weeks,' Stephen said softly. 'Let me get over this alone.' He turned on his heel, strode for the door. 'I'll be in touch...' he said, and left the flat, slamming the door behind him.

  When he had gone, she felt overwhelmed by guilt. He had no idea that she had become involved with Mark over the weekend. Nor must he ever suspect. It would only hurt him and make him bitterly angry. And what purpose would it serve? At least I didn't lie to him, she thought: only by omission, and then to save his feelings and his pride.

  Liz came in at six.

  'Wow!' she laughed as she saw Caroline in the living-room. 'The abominable snowman returns!'

  Caroline looked up, green eyes pain-filled. 'Hi...'

  Liz dropped her keys on the sofa, moving towards her at once. 'Caro, what on earth is it? You look absolutely devastated.'

  Caroline held out her naked left hand.

  Liz stared. 'Oh, no! The engagement's off? But why? What happened?'

  'Mark Rider happened,' she said with hoarse bitterness, and her hands flew to her face. 'Oh, my God, Liz! I fell in love with him. I fell in love...'

  'What?' Liz sank down beside her on the chair arm, eyes filled with concern. 'Caro...'

  'He took me away for the weekend to seduce me,' Carol
ine said thickly, the need to tell someone suddenly overwhelming. 'I refused, of course, so he offered to make me his mistress. Luxury apartment, fast car, charge account at Harrods—you know the kind of thing.'

  'What a heel!'

  'I refused that, too.' Caroline laughed, tears stinging the back of her eyes. 'Then we crashed in the blizzard and got trapped in a cottage together for forty-eight hours. It was hellish, Liz. I'm so attracted to him... I couldn't stop him every time he tried to seduce me.'

  'Couldn't stop him...' Liz repeated in horror.

  Hot colour flooded her face. 'I didn't give in to him, don't worry about that. But the more I didn't, the more he tried. It was just a remorseless seduction. The whole weekend.'

  'He's a very sexy man,' Liz agreed with a sigh. 'I can't think how you resisted.'

  'It was so difficult,' she whispered. 'We had to sleep together to keep warm. We had to eat together, talk to each other, wake up together, share a bathroom, a kitchen, swap confidences...'

  'Like living with him,' Liz said, nodding slowly. 'Yes, I can see exactly what happened. You relaxed with a man completely for the first time in your life, and the result was that you fell in love.'

  She caught her breath, staring, then said in a husky rush, 'But, Liz, I don't see how it happened or --'

  'That's the point though, lovey,' Liz said, smiling. 'You don't see. It's not like getting a job. It's an invisible process that builds up slowly and naturally, and suddenly hits you when you least expect it.'

  She stared, pulses leaping. 'But I—I feel so emotional and --'

  'Well, you would.' Liz laughed, grey eyes gentle. 'Caro, you've been sealed off all your life from real relationships. I've lived with you for a year now, and this is the first time we've ever had a conversation like this.'

  Caroline flushed. 'I'm so rarely at home and --'

  'No,' Liz said quietly. 'You just automatically behave as though you have no feelings or personal life or even a need to confide.'

  'But how could I have fallen in love with Mark in just two days?' she asked hoarsely. 'Even if I was forced to— have a real relationship with him?'

  'Because he was the right guy,' Liz said, smiling. 'It was obviously fate that threw you together in that snowbound cottage.'

  'If only that were true!' Pain struck her heart and she said bitterly, 'But it's not. He's not in love with me, Liz.'

  'Isn't he? You surprise me. From the sound of him, he's a similar creature. Otherwise, why would he have mistresses?'

  'Because he's an attractive swine,' she said bitterly. 'A sexy, arrogant bastard. You can string all the adjectives you like together, in a variety of ways, but they still describe Mark's attitude to women.'

  Her frown deepened. 'You mean there was no change in his attitude towards you? Through the whole course of the weekend? Oh, I can't believe that, Carol'

  'Why not?' she asked huskily. 'You know what kind of man he is!'

  'Yes, but this can't be a one-way thing.' Liz said, 'Not in these circumstances. When a relationship deepens to this extent, it's always a shared experience.'

  Later that night, Caroline lay in bed staring at the dark, sifting through her shell-shocked mind to try to find some grain of hope in Liz's words.

  Mark's attitude towards her had changed over the weekend. That had been obvious when he'd very nearly made love to her before the rescue people arrived. But that must have been the need to satisfy his lust. He'd waited long enough, after all, and most men in his situation would probably have been shaking with lust by the time the woman gave in.

  Bitter tears scalded her cheeks as she remembered how Mark had strode out of the cottage without a word, without so much as a backward glance. So much for talking on the way back to London!

  No doubt his tenderness towards her in the bedroom had been born of a desire to keep her ready to make love to him once they returned to London. But when Stephen arrived, he'd realised his opportunity was lost forever.

  Tomorrow she would have to face Mark at the office, and what would she say? How would she act? The thought of it was terrifying, but she steeled herself to do it.

  One thing was clear, though. She must not tell him her engagement to Stephen was over. If he knew that, he would realise he could renew his pursuit and eventually persuade her into bed with him. They both knew now that she wouldn't be able to resist him if he was persistent enough, but the thought of making love to him, knowing she loved him so deeply and was unloved in return, filled her with deep horror.

  In fact, it made her cry herself to sleep in silent misery...

  Next day, she arrived at the office exactly on time. Shaking with nerves, she hung up her coat as usual, and moved towards the desk, her heart pounding loudly.

  The buzzer on the intercom went loudly. Her pulses jumped like crazy. She took a deep breath, leaned over and depressed the key.

  'Yes, sir?' Her voice was as steady as she could make it.

  'Bring in the mail, Miss Shaw.' Mark's voice was strong and clear and her heart sank as she realised how completely he felt nothing for her but lust.

  'Right away.' She felt like crying, but was far too proud. She picked up the stack of mail, lifted her head, and walked the few feet to his office door.

  Her heart almost burst at the sight of him, leaning back in his chair, hands clasped behind his arrogant dark head. He wore a stylish grey suit, a silk tie, a tight waistcoat, a gold watch chain. He looked unbearably gorgeous. She wanted to kiss his handsome mouth, run her fingers through his black hair, feel his strong hands on her body...

  Their eyes met and she felt as though she was falling down a mine shaft, her heart plummeting with love. Mark looked away and her heart dropped on to a knife.

  'Good morning, sir,' she said in a clipped, professional voice and walked to the desk in her high heels and red silk shift dress.

  'Good morning,' he said tightly, and his eyes flashed over her body. 'You got home all right, then?'

  'Stephen drove me,' she said, and handed him the mail.

  'Ah, yes!' he drawled unpleasantly. 'The plastics man and his --' He broke off with an indrawn breath as his eyes shot to her left hand, then to her face.

  Flushing, Caroline stepped away from him, horror in her eyes as she tried to drag that betraying left hand behind her back.

  'It's over,' Mark said thickly, and his hand shot to her left wrist, jerking her towards him as he studied her bare hand. 'Who broke it off, Caro? You or him?'

  'None of your business!' she said shakily, furious with herself for not realising he would notice at once that her ring was gone.

  'None of my business!' he bit out, getting to his feet. 'What the hell are you talking about?'

  'My personal life,' she said unsteadily, struggling to get away from him. 'It is and always will be none of your business!'

  He towered over her, silver eyes leaping with fury. 'Don't tell me it had nothing to do with me, because I won't believe it. It was all you talked about in that damned cottage. Your wonderful, rosy marriage to Stephen Daly complete with bluebirds flying around your entwined heads!'

  'Shut up, you cynical --'

  'What happened, Caro?' he demanded. 'Did you tell him what happened between us there?'

  Hot colour flooded her face. 'Nothing happened between us!' she said unsteadily, avoiding his eyes. 'Nothing...'

  His hands gripped her shoulders, dragging her towards his hard body. 'Now look me in the face and say that!' he said under his breath.

  Caroline closed her eyes, her head jerking away from him.

  'I said look me in the face, you little bitch!' he bit out under his breath, and his fingers clamped like a steel vice on her flushed face as he turned it ruthlessly to his.

  Her eyes opened. She stared into the glittering silver eyes. 'Nothing happened between us...' she whispered, heart banging.

  'You practically went to bed with me. You offered yourself to me. If those damned rescue workers hadn't come along, I'd have had you, and then where
would you be—looking me in the eye and telling me nothing happened?'

  Furious, she struggled against him, breaking away, backing, her body shaking and her eyes blazing fierce green. 'Just sex! That's all! You nearly seduced me—so what? It didn't happen, and now that we're out of that claustrophobic situation it never will!'

  He stared, his fists clenching at his sides, breathing hard. Suddenly he said in a tight voice, 'Who broke off the engagement, Caro?'

  She blinked rapidly, too shocked at the sudden change of attack to speak.

  His eyes were intent on her face. 'Was it you?'

  She flinched, turned her back on him. She couldn't lie. Not directly. But she couldn't tell him it had been her decision. It would reveal her true feelings for Mark, and she couldn't let him see them.

  'Answer me, you obstinate --!' he swore savagely.

  'Answer me!'

  'No,' she said, tight-lipped, trembling.

  He bit out an expletive under his breath and slammed a hand violently on the desk.

  'Temper tantrums, Mark?' Caroline said thickly, turning, seeing him standing with violent brooding fury. 'They won't do you any good. You can shout and bully as much as you like, but it won't make me reveal a shred of my personal life to you.'

  His eyes were a violent grey. 'Nothing's changed, then? You're still the same frigid, close-mouthed little --'

  'I'm still my own person,' she clipped out through pale lips. 'And the only power you have over me is during working hours.'

  His face grew black with rage. 'I see. That's the way we're going to play it. Very well, then, Miss Shaw,' he bit out. 'Get into your office, and get me Venetia Blake on line one. The private line, if you recall.'

  Jealousy flared in her with such savagery that she could only stare at him, green eyes livid, mouth rigid, body trembling with the force of her raging emotions.

  Mark laughed cruelly under his breath. 'Oh, you can dish it out but you sure as hell can't take it.'

  Her face flamed. 'I don't know what you're talking --'

  'Get in your office, Miss Shaw, and do as you're told,' he bit out. 'And while you're at it, I want Jack Rachey on line two in three minutes. He's in London, at the Ritz, and you and I will be lunching with him there at one o'clock.'