The drive to London was uneventful. A liveried doorman took charge of the car, and they were ushered into the impressive foyer.
Sara, used to the rather flamboyant way her father had of dealing with such people as doormen and waiters, liked the calm pleasantness of Luke’s manner.
In no time at all they were being shown upstairs to their suite. This one did have two bedrooms, but one of them was, of course, for her grandmother.
Sara went to help her get unpacked, guessing that she would be apprehensive about the coming appointment, and hoping that her company would help to keep the apprehension at bay. She said as much very quietly to Luke, adding that she would come and unpack their cases later.
He gave her a rather odd look, as though both surprised and puzzled by her instinctive thoughtfulness.
It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t fit into the mould Cressy had cast for her, she reflected rather wryly as she left him.
Her grandmother was nervous, very obviously so, and although Sara had no experience of illness personally, she knew how tense Tom always got on these occasions.
With Tom, she simply held him and cuddled him, talking or reading to him. With her grandmother, she tried to distract her in a different way, asking her more about the history of the house and the families who had lived in it.
The appointment wasn’t until three in the afternoon, but none of them did justice to the lunch that they were served. They were eating in their suite, and Sara couldn’t help reflecting how much her life-style had changed. She had lived in London for years and had never once set foot in such a luxurious hotel, but when someone one loved’s health was at stake, luxury was of scant importance.
It was Luke who took over her role of keeping her grandmother calm once they got in the taxi to go to the specialist’s rooms off Harley Street. There was such a caring, gentle side to him where her grandmother was concerned. Sara swallowed a lump in her throat, knowing that that tenderness would never be directed at her.
The specialist’s waiting-room in the elegant Georgian terrace was well decorated and comfortable, but it still had that aura of waiting-rooms the world over; even the air seemed tainted with the hopes and fears of the people who had been here. Her pulse was jumping nervously, Sara knew, and there was a strained look tightening Luke’s mouth.
The specialist saw her grandmother first. She was with him for nearly half an hour—a lifetime, during which Sara didn’t speak and neither did Luke.
It was so sad that neither of them could share with the other their fear for a person whom they both loved. Luke out of dislike and contempt, and herself out of pride and fear. Once she voiced those fears, she was all too likely to break down completely. There was nothing she wanted more than the luxury of being held in Luke’s arms and comforted by the physical reality of him.
At long last, the door opened and the specialist asked them to join him. He was a tall, spare man with far-sighted, faded blue eyes and a calmly reassuring manner.
He explained carefully and simply that the leaking heart-valve causing her grandmother’s condition was deteriorating, and that surgery was going to be necessary.
Both of them must have registered their shock, because he was at great pains to reassure them that the operation was a relatively simple one.
‘And the benefits are enormous,’ he promised. ‘Most patients are amazed by the results.’ He turned to Sara’s grandmother. ‘You’ll find you’ll be able to do things you probably haven’t been able to do for years. Physically, you’ll be stronger and fitter than you’ve probably ever been in your life.’
‘This operation… is it… is it very dangerous?’ Sara asked huskily.
He paused for a moment, and then looked at her.
‘Potentially, all operations are dangerous, but I promise you, if I didn’t think there was every chance of success, I would not be recommending it…’
He meant it, Sara recognised.
‘So when do you suggest…’ Luke began voicing what was in all their minds.
‘The sooner the better,’ came the prompt reply. ‘You have a very good private local hospital with an excellent surgeon. I propose to telephone him this afternoon. With any luck, he will be able to operate at the end of the week.’
‘So soon…’
Sara was barely aware of the choke in her voice.
‘I promise you, there really is nothing to worry about,’ the specialist told them kindly. ‘You know,’ he added, looking at Sara’s grandmother, ‘you should have had this operation before now.’
‘I know, and I’ve kept putting it off, but you see, now I’ve found Sara…’ She reached out to touch her hand. ‘And now that she and Luke are married…’
‘Quite so,’ agreed the specialist. ‘Now, there are just one or two things to run through.’
Before they left, he unlocked a drugs cabinet and gave Luke a small phial of tablets.
‘Just a mild tranquillizer,’ he told them. ‘I suggest you have one when you get back to your hotel, Mrs Fitton. It will help you to relax, but eat first. The hospital will probably contact you direct, but you should hear from my secretary tomorrow with a date for the operation.’
They went back out on the street before her grandmother had any opportunity to change her mind.
‘He’s right, you know,’ she admitted when they were back in the hotel. Afternoon tea was being served in the Promenade Room, and Luke had insisted that they join the other guests to sample this genteel luxury.
‘I should have had the operation before, but I’m such a coward. The mere thought of undergoing an operation…’
‘You won’t know a thing about it,’ Luke promised her, ‘and with these modern anaesthetics… well, I suspect you’ll be back on your feet before you know it.’
Before they went back upstairs, Luke excused himself to go and have a word with the reception desk. When he came back, he was smiling.
‘I’ve managed to get tickets for Phantom of the Opera,’ he told them.
Sara knew how much her grandmother had longed to see this musical. She had read all the reviews when it had first opened, and Sara had often heard her say how much she would like to see it.
Now she demurred that, with Luke and Sara so newly married, they ought to go out and enjoy themselves without her, but Sara was quick to reassure her that the evening would not be enjoyable at all without her there to share the pleasure.
Again, she sensed that Luke was watching her, although he made no comment. That came later, when her grandmother was resting, prior to going out.
‘So you can be thoughtful when you want to be, even if it was contrived.’
‘I love my grandmother,’ Sara told him, facing him squarely. ‘And I quite genuinely meant what I said.’
‘Oh, I don’t doubt that. After all, it means you won’t have to spend the evening alone with me, doesn’t it?’
Sara blinked, not sure if she was hearing correctly. Surely the boot was very much on the other foot? But caution and—yes, pride too, kept her silent.
Now she knew why Luke had insisted on them packing evening clothes. Sara had brought the new dress her grandmother had bought her. She had lost a little bit of weight, and the fabric made her skin look almost luminescent.
Luke had arranged that they would supper in their suite after the musical.
It was a wise suggestion, Sara thought; dining out would probably have been too much for her grandmother, on top of everything else that had happened that day.
This was the first time she had seen Luke in evening clothes, and her breath caught slightly in her throat as he walked into the sitting-room. She had deliberately vacated their bedroom the moment she was ready, in order to give him privacy to shower and change.
She saw him stop and study her, and she tensed uncertainly. Was there something wrong with her dress-her make-up? She wasn’t used to dressing up like this.
‘Such a picture of almost madonna-like innocence.’ The harsh note in his voi
ce stung her sensitive nerves. ‘How elusive you can be at times! It’s very effective, but then, I suppose you’re well aware of that.’
How she hated the irony in his voice! She wanted to protest that he was wrong, that she was not as he thought her, but she had condemned herself with her words. And, even if by some miracle he did believe her, what would it achieve? It wouldn’t make him love her.
They went straight back to the hotel after the show, with her grandmother still raving about it. The mask worn by the phantom was so effective that even now Sara felt almost haunted by the tragedy of the story.
She had cried once during the show, too caught up in the emotions of the story to stop herself. Luke had given her a handkerchief, and she had read in his eyes a totally male amusement for her female weakness. Just for a second, their joint barriers had been down. He had moved towards her as though to comfort her, and then her grandmother had said something and the moment had been lost.
After the supper they were served in their suite, her grandmother followed the specialist’s advice and took her tablets. Sara went in to see her and found her on the verge of sleep.
If she should lose her grandmother now… She bit her lips, her eyes clouded with her fear as she went back to the sitting-room.
Luke was poring over some papers. He worked very hard, too hard perhaps, filling the empty spaces in his life with his work. Spaces left empty by the death of the woman he loved, Sara reminded herself.
‘Is she asleep?’
‘Yes. Luke, this operation… Is it…’
‘You really are concerned for her, aren’t you?’ He got up and came over to her, gripping her chin gently and turning her face into the light. ‘You’ve been crying again.’
She blushed as awkwardly as a small child, her face going even hotter as his fingertips traced the line of her tears.
‘I love her so much. I’m afraid of losing her.’ Her voice wobbled, and suddenly she didn’t care any more about her pride. She was so frightened and alone. Her grandmother was the first and the only person who genuinely loved her, and the thought that she might lose that love…
‘I know it’s selfish of me…’
‘To love someone?’
The dark eyebrows rose, and Sara shook her head.
‘No, to be so frightened of losing her.’
‘Not selfish, but odd, given the fact that you stand to inherit very generously under her will…’
‘You think I care about that?’ She withdrew from him abruptly. ‘You think that money is more important to me than love?’ she demanded fiercely.
Abruptly, she realised what she had said. Her whole body froze, and they stared at one another like two antagonists.
Sara was the first one to break the spell of silence that held them in thrall.
‘I… I think I’ll go to bed. It’s been a long day and… and I’m tired.’
She was shaking violently as she undressed and then showered in the enormous and very comfortable bathroom. The bed was unfamiliar, and she couldn’t sleep. Tension made her head ache and her muscles clench. She was so frightened, so very frightened.
She was still awake when Luke came to bed, but she closed her eyes and lay still, observing the unspoken code they had evolved.
She heard the shower running, and tried not to imagine the muscled nudity of his body. The ache that had been with her since the night they had made love flared up sharply, and she rolled over, burying her face in the pillow to stifle the small sound of anguish rising in her throat.
She felt the bed depress as Luke climbed in, and immediately her tension increased. He had turned off the lamp, and the room was in darkness. The double glazing muted the sound of the London traffic, but it was still there. Strange how it had not bothered her while she’d lived in the city, but now, after the quiet days of Fitton Place, she was immediately and irritatingly aware of it.
She turned over restlessly, longing to be able to sleep. There were more and more nights like this recently; nights when she would wake just after Luke came to bed and then lie there aching for him, longing to be able to reach out and touch him, needing him as a lover and as a friend.
She moved again, and then stiffened as she felt her leg muscles cramp. The pain that shot through her was agonising. So much so that she couldn’t stop herself from crying out as she struggled to sit up and escape from the excruciating discomfort gripping her body.
‘What is it?’
She could barely speak for the pain. ‘Cramp…’
She could feel her skin dampening with sweat as she fought against the locked muscle, and then the warmth of Luke’s hands slid over her, seeking and finding the bunched sinew.
The relief was exquisite, the pain fading slowly as he expertly massaged her leg, leaving only a dull ache.
In her agony, she had kicked aside the bedclothes and, as the immediacy of her pain left her, she realised that Luke had exposed the whole length of her leg, from the thigh downwards. She quivered, unable to suppress the fierce shaft of desire surging through her. His hand still rested against her skin, and she ached for him to caress her, to love her.
There was enough light in the room for her to see the outline of his face. She expected him to move away immediately he realised the cramp had gone, but he didn’t.
She looked at him, and heard herself saying words she had never dreamed she would say to any man, her voice liquid and soft with desire.
‘Make love to me, Luke. Please make love to me tonight.’
He moved and she tensed herself for his withdrawal, her skin going hot with shame and shock, and then his hands were on her shoulders, dragging her against his body, his mouth hard and demanding on her own.
It was a dream, it had to be; and yet the things she was feeling were real enough. They welled up inside her, making her cling eagerly to him.
‘Beautiful. So beautiful.’
His voice was unfamiliarly slurred, drugged almost, the touch of his hands hungry and yet… and yet tender, she recognised through the jolts of pleasure running through her like liquid fire.
Luke took hold of her, pushing her away from him.
His face was flushed, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe.
‘Oh, God, what are you trying to do to me? I shouldn’t want you. I try to tell myself that I don’t want you, but the minute you touch me…’
He made a sound of anguished protest, and then reached blindly for her, slanting his mouth across hers and holding her still while he ravished it with fierce, biting kisses that gradually softened and deepened until her whole body was responding.
‘I shouldn’t be doing this.’
She heard the strangled words, and knew he shared her own sense of almost hurting immediacy. As though another woman had taken her over, discarding the shy, almost prim Sara she had always thought herself to be, she discovered she was touching him, caressing him. She cried out his name as pleasure spilled through her in a quick torrent that she knew was only a preliminary to what she would feel, driven to keep him with her by whatever means she could, her body responding instinctively to the needs of her love.
She fell asleep in Luke’s arms, oblivious to the pain in his eyes as he watched her.
They returned to Cheshire in the morning. As he had promised she would, the specialist’s secretary rang first thing to tell them that the operation was scheduled for the end of the week.
Seeing the fear cross her grandmother’s face, Sara reflected that it was probably just as well that she wouldn’t have a long wait.
Once they arrived home, Anna and Tom had to be told the news.
Tom had become very attached to her grandmother, and Sara had to suppress a small smile as he assured her gravely that hospital could be ‘quite nice’.
‘I’ve been in lots of times, haven’t I, Sara?’ he asked proudly.
‘Well, not lots,’ she amended, ‘but certainly several.’
And so he had as a younger child, when his asthma attacks had
been so frightening that their doctor had insisted on him being hospitalised.
‘Yes, and you always stayed with me, didn’t you, Sara?’
‘Sara stayed with you?’ Luke intervened, frowning, his eyes questioning Sara, although his words were for Tom.
‘My father and Laura were often away on business,’ she explained evenly. ‘It seemed only sensible that I should look after Tom.’
She didn’t want to go into any further detail in front of Tom. He was sensitive enough to know that his father especially had always semi-rejected him, but Luke wouldn’t let the subject drop and said tersely, ‘But I understood that Cressy looked after Tom.’
‘Cressy?’ Tom scowled. ‘I know she’s my sister, but sometimes I don’t like her. Why does Luke think that Cressy looked after me, Sara?’ He looked up at her, and Sara ruffled his hair.
‘Oh, I think he must have misunderstood something that Cressy told him, Tom,’ she explained levelly, looking at Luke.
‘Yes, sometimes it is possible to make mistakes about people—to misinterpret things that are said,’ Luke agreed, equally evenly, but the way he was looking at her told Sara that he was thinking about last night. Just the memory of the way she had clung to him and had begged for his lovemaking was enough to make her look away in embarrassed confusion.
She had tried not to think about last night—not to remember how ardently she had responded to Luke’s touch, how much she had wanted him. She had asked him to make love to her and he had done so, but it had been his first wife he had thought of when he held her in his arms. Just hearing Tom’s artless remarks about Cressy wasn’t going to change his opinion of her. How could it? That had been formed before he had even met her or her stepsister.
She was glad that the necessity of finalising all the details for her grandmother’s operation kept her busy for the rest of the day. It meant she had less time to dwell on the shaming events of last night, and on the emptiness of her future with Luke. If they had a future.
The house would hold them together legally—but emotionally, physically? These were bonds that could only be formed with mutual love and trust.
Man of Stone Page 11
