by Penny Jordan
‘This time all I asked for was his telephone as proof that my orders had been carried out, but next time—’
‘Stop it,’ Lucy implored him. ‘You can’t get away with this. The police will catch the men responsible...’
Andrew Walker laughed.
‘No way. Those gutter vermin know exactly how to slink away into their sewers, and they know what will happen to them if they dare to betray me. One word to the authorities and they’ll be deported—if they live that long.’
Lucy shuddered. She couldn’t doubt any more that his threats were real—and enforceable. She had to do something to protect Marcus, and she knew there was only one thing she could do. Tears filled her eyes. The only thing she could do was the one thing she most wanted not to have to. But she had no choice. Marcus’s safety was more important to her than her own happiness.
‘It’s up to you, Lucy,’ Andrew Walker was telling her, with horrible fake affability. ‘A partnership with you and Prêt a Party and Carring remains perfectly safe...’
Lucy managed a small uncaring shrug. She had gone over and over this so many times last night. She knew exactly what she had to do to save Marcus. She could save Marcus—but she couldn’t save her marriage as well. Hot tears burned her throat raw, but she refused to think about her own despair.
‘You can’t blackmail me through Marcus,’ she told him dismissively. ‘I don’t want him hurt, naturally, but frankly I wish I’d never married him. I knew it was a mistake the moment I saw Nick again.’
Well, that much was true. But not in the way she was implying to Andrew Walker.
The reason she had known her marriage to Marcus was a mistake was because Nick had revealed to her the danger she had put Marcus in—and Andrew Walker was underlining that right now.
She could see Andrew Walker was frowning, and sensed that he did not believe her. Panic twisted her insides. Very well, then, she would just have to make sure that she convinced him.
‘I realised when I saw Nick at the airport that it was him I loved,’ she lied. ‘I’ve told Marcus that, and I’ve told him I want a separation.’
Andrew Walker still wore a frown.
‘Well, this is a surprise. And one that I am sure will delight Nick...if it is true.’
‘It is true. But I doubt that it will delight Nick. Why should it? He doesn’t love me,’ Lucy told him.
That much was true. Nick wasn’t capable of loving anyone other than himself.
‘Nonsense. He adores you.’
‘I don’t want to talk about Nick,’ Lucy told him. ‘Ultimately, of course, I shall divorce Marcus, but in the meantime I shall probably leave the country and go and live somewhere else.’
‘Isn’t that all very hasty and unnecessary?’ Andrew Walker cautioned her. ‘I must admit that you have surprised me—if you’re telling me the truth.’
‘Why should I lie?’ Lucy challenged him, hoping it wasn’t as obvious to him as it was to her. ‘I don’t love Marcus. I don’t want him hurt, particularly, but I don’t want to be involved in what you’re planning for Prêt a Party-and nothing you do to Marcus will change that,’ she told Andrew Walker shakily. ‘Because I won’t be.’
‘Why don’t you wait until you’ve spoken to Nick before you come to a decision about that, Lucy?’
Andrew Walker was smiling almost paternally at her now.
Speak to Nick? She’d rather die! Maybe she would even die... But Andrew Walker had already told her that they needed her name for Prêt a Party, which meant they needed her alive. But not Marcus. They didn’t need Marcus to be alive. Marcus...
* * *
‘McVicar rang me this afternoon, whilst I was on my way back from Leeds. He told me that you’ve been in touch with him to ask if Blayne could still be considered an employee in Prêt a Party since he did not sign a termination agreement,’ Marcus announced coolly.
Were you hoping that he was still involved, Lucy? When I saw you with him at the airport, was that a chance meeting or a planned one? Do you want him as a partner in your bed? Instead of me?
No, that was nonsense. Okay, so after the fuss she had made over the telephone he was surprised that Lucy was behaving so distantly to him now that he was home, but he wasn’t really going to let himself think he was actually disappointed by her lack of reaction to his return, was he? And he certainly wasn’t going to allow himself to think that her coolness towards him hurt.
Coffee spilled from the mug Lucy was holding onto the new limestone kitchen floor. Her heart was jerking in uncomfortable, uncoordinated, irregular beats that were making her feel nauseous.
‘I simply wanted to know what the situation was,’ she defended herself.
‘Why didn’t you ask me?’
‘You’re my husband, not my solicitor.’ She couldn’t bear the sight of the bruises on Marcus’s face, and was terrified of breaking down in front of him and telling him what was going on.
Mr McVicar had assured her that there was no way Nick could claim to have any ongoing involvement in Prêt a Party, but she still felt desperately afraid and worried. For herself, but most of all for Marcus.
‘Has it been decided what we’re doing for Christmas yet?’ he asked, deliberately changing the subject.
‘I spoke to my mother yesterday morning. She’s spoken to your mother, and to Beatrice, and Beatrice has suggested that we all get together.’
‘Where—not in this wretched castle she wants to hire for George’s birthday, I trust?’
When once she would have laughed, now Lucy could only manage the paltriest of wan smiles, Marcus noticed bitterly.
Why? Because secretly she was thinking she wanted to spend her Christmas with Blayne? The pain that thought caused him was almost beyond bearing. Where had it come from and what did it mean?
She still hadn’t said a word to him about seeing Blayne, and Marcus wondered how much contact there had been between them since then.
‘No.’ Lucy gave him a rueful look. ‘Mother is talking about us all going to Framlingdene and staying there.’
Framlingdene was the National Trust Property that had originally been the country seat of Lucy’s father’s family. The family had retained the right to use a suite of rooms there.
‘Will there be enough room for all of us?’
‘No, not really. I think it would be better if we simply stayed here in London. We normally have a big family party at Great-Aunt Alice’s on Boxing Day, since she’s got the space, and I imagine we could all have dinner there quite easily.’
‘Well, it certainly makes more sense than driving up to Yorkshire. Lucy—is something wrong?’
His question shocked and surprised Marcus almost as much as it obviously did Lucy. Since when had he wanted to talk about emotions?
Lucy’s colour came and went whilst she struggled between truth and fear—and love.
In the end, love won out.
‘No, of course not. Why should there be?’
‘No particular reason—other than that you don’t exactly look like a glowing newly married,’ Marcus heard himself saying curtly.
‘Glowing newly marrieds are normally glowing because they are in love with one another,’ Lucy told him lightly. ‘And we aren’t.’
She would have to tell him soon that she wanted to end their marriage. Soon, but not yet. Please, just let her have a little more time with him. One birthday, one Christmas...she would tell him before the New Year, she promised herself.
* * *
Lucy hesitated outside the jeweller’s. It was Marcus’s birthday today, and tonight they were going out for dinner with his family. She had already bought him a new silk tie, and she certainly couldn’t afford to buy him one of the expensive watches displayed in the window in front her.
Besides, he would replace his s
tolen Rolex himself in due course. It had been insured.
Even so... There was a discreet sign in the window saying that they also sold good quality ‘previous owner’ watches.
She could always go in and enquire.
Half an hour later she was back on the pavement outside the shop, huddling into her coat to protect herself from the icy blast of the wind, the Rolex watch on which she had just spent virtually every penny she had in her bank account safely tucked in her handbag.
It was exactly the same model as the watch Marcus had had stolen, and she was thrilled to be able to give it to him for his birthday. Would he keep it for ever? Even after they were divorced? The pain caught her breath and held her immobile in its grip.
* * *
They were going for dinner at the Carlton Towers—mainly because in Marcus’s opinion they served the best steak in London.
Marcus arrived home just as Lucy stepped out of the shower. By the time he had reached the bedroom she had wrapped herself in a towel and was seated on their bed, his watch carefully gift wrapped beside her.
‘What’s this?’ he demanded as she handed it to him.
‘Your birthday present.’
‘I thought I had that this morning.’
‘Your tie? Yes, I know. But this is something extra,’ Lucy told him huskily.
She was beginning to have an effect on him that wasn’t what he had planned, Marcus acknowledged as he sat down beside her and unwrapped his present.
He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. But when he removed the paper and saw the familiar Rolex box he was surprised.
‘It isn’t new, I’m afraid. I couldn’t... But it’s just like the one you lost.’
It wasn’t—not quite—because the one he had lost had originally belonged to his father. But he didn’t tell her that. Instead he put the watch on without a word, and then took hold of her and kissed her fiercely.
It seemed to have been such a long time since he had kissed her like this—even though in reality they had only been back from their honeymoon a fortnight. And if he had not made love to her as passionately since their return then that was very probably down to the fact that she had not encouraged him to do so. Lucy had that brief thought, and then she stopped thinking about anything as he rolled her down onto the bed beneath him and kept on kissing her.
Yearningly Lucy kissed him back. She loved him so very much...
* * *
‘You two are late. What kept you?’ Lucy’s mother asked, when Lucy and Marcus hurried into the restaurant of the Carlton Towers hotel.
Automatically Lucy looked at Marcus. Thank goodness it was too dark in here for anyone else to notice the look Marcus was giving her.
‘Marcus, you’ve got your watch back,’ Beatrice announced halfway through dinner.
‘Actually, no. Lucy gave me this for my birthday.’
Again he looked at her, and this time Lucy suspected that Beatrice had seen the gleam in his eyes, and had guessed exactly what the giving of the gift had led to, because she suddenly grinned and said quietly to Lucy, ‘Aha—now I think I know why we weren’t the last to arrive for once. I thought it was unlike my normally prompt brother to be late.’
It was gone midnight when they finally got home.
‘Only another three weeks to Christmas,’ Lucy said sleepily.
‘Mmm. Early in the New Year would be a good time for us to start looking for that country house we’ve been thinking about, I suspect.’
Lucy’s heart missed a beat. Early in the New Year their marriage would be as good as over, thanks to Nick and Andrew Walker.
‘What’s wrong?’ Marcus asked her sharply.
‘Nothing. What makes you think there is?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that the emotional temperature has just dropped by ten degrees might have something to do with it,’ Marcus responded, his voice every bit as cool. ‘Something’s on your mind, Lucy.’
‘Nothing is on my mind. I’m just tired, that’s all,’ she lied.
‘I want to get this business of Prêt a Party’s debts sorted out before the New Year,’ Marcus announced. ‘I think we should go and see McVicar together and—’
‘No!’
‘Why not?’
‘I’ve already told you. Prêt a Party is my business and I want to keep it that way. And—and I don’t want to be bullied into doing something I don’t want to do!’
Marcus didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. The look he gave her said it all.
Lucy wanted to plead with him to understand, but how could she do that? Dorland had not been joking when he had said to her that Andrew Walker was a bad man. People’s happiness, people’s lives meant nothing to him, or to those he worked for; she knew that. Ending her marriage to Marcus was the only way she had of protecting him. It was like...it was like performing an amputation to save a person’s life, she told herself. But whilst Marcus would survive that amputation, and probably go on to make a perfectly happy life for himself without her in it, she knew that losing him would leave her bereft for the rest of her life.
* * *
Only a week now and it would be Christmas. All the Knightsbridge shops and of course the big stores—Harrods and Harvey Nicks—had been flaunting their Christmas finery for weeks. Lucy had done all her shopping—her cards were posted, and her presents wrapped. Mrs Crabtree had taken some extra holiday so that she could spend more time with her daughter and her grandchildren, and Lucy had been enjoying showing off her domesticity to Marcus via her cooking—even if he had turned the tables on her by cooking for her last night.
He hadn’t mentioned Prêt a Party again, but there was a tension between them that hurt her—though at the same time she was clinging to every second of the time she had with him.
At least he was still making love to her—every night, in fact—with skill and passion and determination. But not, of course, with love.
The doorbell rang as she was on her way through the hall. Automatically she went to answer it, and then froze as she saw Nick standing on the steps.
She tried to close the door, but Nick pushed it open and stepped into the hall, telling her sullenly, ‘What are you doing? I thought you’d be pleased to see me. Andrew said you would be when he told me to come round.’
Andrew Walker had sent him here? Why was she not surprised?
‘Nick, you shouldn’t have come here,’ she protested. ‘If Marcus saw you...’
‘He isn’t here, is he?’
‘No, he’s at work. But if he were here—’
‘But he isn’t,’ Nick cut her off. His earlier sullenness had been replaced by the slick, facile falsity of what Nick considered to be charm and what she knew to be a shallow pretence of it.
‘You know, Lucy, Andrew’s right—we did rush into divorcing without giving our marriage a proper chance. I admit that I was a bit thoughtless, and selfish...’
Had Andrew Walker made him repeat those words until he had them off pat? Lucy wondered cynically. They certainly didn’t ring true, and neither did they accord with the look of patronising conceit she could see in Nick’s eyes as he looked at her.
‘I’m not surprised you regret marrying Carring. I suppose when you compare him to me, you’re bound to find him wanting—especially in bed.’ He smirked. ‘Bed is my speciality, after all—remember?’
Lucy longed to tell him that all she remembered of his so-called speciality was how barren and empty it had been, in every single way, but of course she could not do so.
‘You were my first lover,’ she told him quietly instead.
‘Yeah, and I guess you took it for granted that all men would be as good as me—right? Silly little Lucy.’ He shook his head mock-playfully. ‘But never mind. Pretty soon you and I can start making up for los
t time. In fact...’ He looked towards the stairs. ‘Why don’t we start right now, eh? Why don’t I take you upstairs and give you a very special Christmas present?’
Lucy wanted to scream at him to leave before she was physically sick. But if she caused him to think that she loved Marcus then she would be putting Marcus in very great danger—and giving Andrew Walker something to blackmail her with.
‘Not here,’ she demurred, trying to look regretful. ‘Perhaps if I came to you...’ Never in a thousand years.
‘Came to me? How about I make you come for me, Lucy? And it wouldn’t take long, would it? I can see in your eyes how much you want me. Come on...’
Nick was reaching for her hand and pulling her towards him. She could smell the too-strong scent of his cologne, overpoweringly unpleasant after the familiarly of Marcus’s cool freshness.
‘Nick—no! I was just on my way out...to meet my mother,’ she fibbed.
‘Andrew told me to give you a message from him,’ he told her, abruptly releasing her. ‘You told him that you planned to leave Carring, but you’re still living here with him.’
‘I can’t just walk out,’ Lucy protested.
‘No...’ Nick gave a speculative look around the hallway. ‘I dare say you want to make sure you get a nice fat slice of his millions before you leave, and I don’t blame you for that.’
‘Yes. That’s...that’s exactly what I’m planning to do,’ Lucy agreed untruthfully. ‘And I can’t meet up with Andrew at the moment, Nick. Marcus might get suspicious. In fact he’s already suspicious because I won’t let him become a partner in Prêt a Party.’
‘Well, Andrew’s getting very impatient—and so are the men he represents. Andrew said to tell you that if you don’t get rid of Marcus voluntarily, then he’s going to have to make arrangements to do it for you. Oh, and he said to tell you not to even think about telling Carring what’s happening, because that will be as good as signing his death warrant.’
* * *
Lucy had no idea how long it was since Nick had left. And she didn’t know either that her body was cramped and stiff from sitting on the stairs, her arms locked tightly around her knees as though she were trying to stanch a wound that would not stop bleeding. She did know—vaguely—that it must have gone dark outside, because the hallway was in darkness.
