Levelling the Score

by Penny Jordan

  At eleven o'clock Madame Le Brun subtly indicated that it was time for her guests to leave.

  Simon's father drove off first, leaving Jenna and Simon to follow. The strain of the constant pretence was taking its effect on Jenna, and they had gone several kilometres before she realised that Simon had turned off the main road, and moreover that he was slowing the car to a halt in a convenient lay-by.

  'What… Simon, why are you stopping?' she demanded uncertainly. 'Everyone will wonder where… what we're doing.'

  'No, they won't,' he told her equably, switching off the engine. 'On the contrary, I'm sure they'll think they know quite well what we're doing.'

  He saw from the sudden change in expression that she had grasped his meaning. Anger flared in her eyes, her skin heating.

  'Why did you flinch away from me like that after dinner?'

  No preamble, no opportunity for her to pretend she didn't know what he meant, but what could she tell him? The truth was… The truth was that she had been so unbearably aware of him that it had either been flinch away or betray to everyone present, including Simon himself, just how she felt about him.

  Fear made her defensive.

  'What was I supposed to do?' she snapped. 'Fall into your arms with a sigh of rapture? We're supposed to be showing everyone that we're not suited, not acting the part of lovers who can't wait to fall into bed with one another.'

  There was an infinitesimal pause and then he said coolly, 'I was simply picking up my coffee cup… If you think that that constitutes lover-like behaviour, I begin to wonder at the nature of the relationships in your past.'

  It was said quietly, but it couldn't have shocked Jenna more had he shouted the words to the skies. He was so dangerously close to guessing the truth. Panic hit her and she lashed out blindly, not choosing her words, only knowing that she must somehow stop him from discovering it.

  'How dare you call into question my sexuality, just because you don't arouse me? Is that what it is, Simon? The fact that I'm indifferent to you? Well, I'm sorry if you can't accept that fact. I realise I'm probably the first woman never to desire you to the point of lunacy, but…'

  Her head jerked back as he re-started the car with a savage oath, pulling out so quickly that she almost lost her balance. She had never seen him react like this before, no matter what the provocation. The reality of how much she had angered him left her feeling shaky and weak. She was possessed by a craven and dangerous urge to tell him the truth, but she suppressed it ruthlessly.

  Tears clogged the back of her throat and stung her eyes, and she tried to swallow them down. She couldn't endure much more of this emotional torture. Why couldn't Simon simply tell his parents that they had made a mistake?

  When they got back, she escaped to her room on the pretext of having a headache. She thought she saw her grandmother glance thoughtfully at her, but if she was suspicious she didn't show it, merely saying placidly, 'You always did suffer in hot weather. That Celtic skin, I suppose.'

  As though in punishment for her deceit she did wake up with an aching head, but she knew that it owed more to her sleepless night and churning emotions rather than any atmospheric pressure.

  She dressed and went downstairs, feeling listless and out of sorts. Contrarily her mood was not improved by the information that Simon had driven into the nearest town to see if he could get his spare tyre repaired, and also to collect fresh supplies.

  'I thought he might as well get them for us, as he was going in,' his mother explained. 'I don't mind doing the local shopping, but when it comes down to it French supermarkets are just as boring and stress-inducing as British ones. We're going to Gouffre-de-Padirac today—it's a trip we've been promising ourselves for ages.'

  'Yes, you ghoulish creature,' Simon's father agreed. 'What do you think of a woman who complains all year long about the lack of sunshine, and then when she gets it prefers to spend several hours underground punting along a dark, icy river?'

  Jenna laughed dutifully, declining an invitation to join them.

  'I'm afraid I'm feeling rather lazy. I think I'll just spend the day sunbathing and watching the river.'

  'Well, Simon shouldn't be too long. We probably won't be back until this evening, so don't worry about preparing any meals. George is taking your grandmother and me out for dinner this evening for a treat.'

  They left half an hour later, and Jenna wasn't sorry to see them go. She went upstairs and changed into a brief bikini top and shorts.

  There was a spot by the river which she loved; secluded, and shaded by trees, it was almost idyllic.

  She found the huge paperback she had bought on the ferry—a historical family saga of a type that she loved, and, picking up a couple of apples and her sunglasses, headed for the river.

  In no time at all she was thoroughly involved in her book—she had always found reading a marvellous antidote for a fit of the blues, but now, guiltily, she knew that she was deliberately using it as a form of escape… but why not? Surely anything that reduced her present stress level could only be of benefit. She was desperately afraid of betraying the truth, and each day that went past seemed to wind the coil of tension inside her a little tighter.

  Simon hadn't returned by lunch time, and as she went inside to prepare herself a light salad and take refuge from the hot midday sun Jenna wondered if his tardiness was deliberate. The thought that he could be feeling the strain as much as she was herself was a novel one, but that could explain his totally out-of-character burst of temper last night.

  After lunch she cooled down with a shower, donned fresh clothes and, after covering her skirt, with a protective sun cream, returned to the river.

  The sun had changed direction now, and threw dense shadows over the river. She found herself beginning to doze, a legacy from last night's loss of sleep.

  A male voice woke her… not Simon's. This was far less assured, hesitant almost, and possessed of an unfamiliar accent.

  She opened her eyes and looked upwards. A tall, lanky man stood looking down at her, his brown hair sunbleached at the ends. He had nice blue eyes and a rather hesitant smile.

  'Pardonnez-moi,' he began in awkward French, 'mais—'

  'I'm English,' Jenna told him with a smile.

  'Oh, great! Perhaps you can help me then. I seem to have got myself lost. I'm looking for a farmhouse that belongs to some friends of mine. I thought it was down here, but I must have gone wrong somewhere. I wonder if you know them.'

  He gave her the name of Simon's parents, and she stood up, dusting down her shorts.

  'You aren't lost. This is the right place. I'm Jenna—'

  'Of course, I ought to have recognised you from Simon's description.' He grinned at her. 'I thought he must be exaggerating, but I see that he wasn't. I'm John Cameron. I don't know if he's mentioned me.'

  He held out his hand to her and she shook it automatically. What on earth had Simon said about her? And, moreover, she would have expected John to have learned about her via Susie rather than Simon.

  'Yes. He has.'

  'I'm over here on business, and I thought I'd give myself a short holiday at the same time. I knew that Simon's folks would be down here…so I thought I'd invite myself to stay here for a few days.

  Susie and I had arranged—' He broke off and asked abruptly, 'Is Susie…?'

  Anticipating his question, Jenna shook her head regretfully. 'No, I'm afraid she isn't here…'

  So this was the man Simon was so keen for his sister to marry. She eyed him thoughtfully. Yes, he would make a good foil for Susie's vibrant butterfly personality. Behind his shyness she sensed a solid core of dependability, a stubborn determination to pursue what he wanted… witness his arrival here.

  Oh, Susie, she thought wryly, you won't escape easily from this one.

  'Well, then, do you expect her?' he persisted.

  Again Jenna shook her head, softening the blow by adding, 'Of course, that doesn't mean that she might not just turn up—you know Susie…
'

  She wasn't going to tell him that by now Susie could well be married to someone else. She would' let Simon deliver that blow.

  'Are you hungry?' she asked instead'.

  'Oh, look, I don't want to put you to any trouble.'

  'It's no trouble, I was about to make something for myself. Everyone else is out, but they shouldn't be all that long. I was expecting Simon back ages ago.'

  Only now, as she said it, did she realise how long and lonely the afternoon had been without him. If they had really been engaged, if they had really been in love, they could have passed the afternoon blissfully alone…

  Shocked by the sensuality of her own thought patterns, she hurried towards the house.

  She wondered if John Cameron had booked into an hotel, or if he was expecting to stay at the house. There were still two empty bedrooms.

  It didn't take long to throw together a simple meal. They ate it outside on the patio, exchanging desultory conversation.

  He didn't ask her what she was doing at the farmhouse and Jenna did not volunteer any explanation. Matters were complicated enough as they were without her adding yet another victim to the conspiracy.

  She suddenly heard the familiar, throaty roar of Simon's car engine and for a moment felt totally unable to move. Colour surged up under her skin, and she felt as idiotic as a teenager, suddenly about to confront her idol.

  She heard the car door slam, and it galvanised her into action. She stood up hastily, half losing her balance.

  John Cameron gallantly came to her rescue, leaping to his feet, and steadying her.

  He was just about to release her, as she thanked him shakily, when Simon came round the side of the house. 'Simon… '

  She wondered if John, like her, saw the sudden hardening of his mouth as he paused, before acknowledging his friend's greeting.

  In anyone else that faint narrowing of his eyes, the way he had looked from her to John and back again, might be construed as burgeoning jealousy…the response of a very possessive lover in fact, to seeing his woman in the arms of someone else.

  Dismissing the notion as pure fantasy, Jenna hung back slightly to allow the two men to greet one another, but to her surprise Simon virtually ignored John's outstretched hand, coming instead to her side and putting his arm round her.

  'I'm sorry I was so long. Repairing the tyre took longer than I expected.' He was standing so close to her that she could smell his sweat. To her astonishment she found it dismayingly erotic, aching to turn into his body and press herself against him.

  'John arrived an hour or so ago,' Jenna told him, fighting to appear calm and normal. 'He thought he'd got the wrong place when he only found me here…'

  'Jenna and I are spending a month with both families prior to our wedding.'

  Jenna blinked at the warning off tone in Simon's voice. He couldn't really think that John… He must be getting carried away with his self-imposed role, she decided wryly, pulling away from him.

  'I'm sure the pair of you have a lot to talk about, so I'll leave you to it.'

  She had never visualised Simon as a jealous lover, having only previously had a teenager's awe of his masculinity. It was strange to imagine him as vulnerable to his emotions as any other person in love. But of course he was not in love, and any jealousy he was showing was simply another bit of role-playing and nothing more.

  Even so, she spent the rest of the afternoon in shameful self-indulgence lying on her bed, daydreaming that Simon was her lover, that he was jealous…

  She got up when she heard Simon's father's car returning, her body aching tormentingly. Determinedly she refused to feel sorry for herself. It was her own fault, she should never have given in to such temptation…

  She shivered slightly as she went downstairs, her mind still full of mental images of Simon's golden body, her senses still so finely tuned that it was almost possible she could actually feel the sensation of it pressing against her own.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  « ^ »

  'I hope I'm not intruding.'

  Jenna was sitting in her favourite spot by the river, knees drawn up, hands clasped loosely round them, watching the antics of a pair of water rats on the opposite bank.

  At the sound of John's voice they disappeared. She shook her head and smiled up at him. A phlegmatic, calm, gentle man, John was an easy companion. Unlike Simon, he didn't cause her to suffer a constant seething cauldron of emotions.

  'There's something about water, isn't there? I grew up in Ontario, almost right alongside the Lake. My father farmed… '

  'Is that what you do?'

  He shook his head as he sat down alongside her.

  'No, I design and modify computers. My folks are dead now, but the three of us, myself, my brother and my sister still own the land, only now we've converted the lakeside into a holiday marina, with log cabins and a caravan park. My brother runs it, and I normally go up and help him during the summer.'

  He had been smiling, but suddenly he frowned.

  'It's a good life, but not what you'd call sophisticated. Ontario doesn't boast anything like London, although I love it.'

  Without him saying so, Jenna knew that he was thinking of Susie.

  He confirmed it, saying awkwardly, 'You and? Susie have always been friends, haven't you?'

  'For a long time, yes, although these days our lives have taken different paths.'

  'You know that we… that Susie and I were engaged?' He said it abruptly, turning his head slightly away from her as though to conceal his pain.

  'Yes… yes, I do. I'm sure she didn't mean to hurt you,' she added softly. 'She isn't like that… just giddy, and slightly thoughtless at times…'

  'She's like a rainbow,' John said sombrely. 'Dazzling and radiant, but impossible to hold on to, to imprison.'

  Her heart went out to him, but what could she say? She had absolutely no idea how Susie really felt about him. The fact that her friend hadn't even confided in her that they had been engaged, the fact that she had deliberately misled and lied to her… Now it was her turn to look the other way.

  'Both Susie and Simon are very charismatic.'

  'Yes, Simon's a lucky man…to have found someone like you.' She didn't know what to say. She could hardly tell him that her engagement was built on even less firm foundations than his had been.

  It was relaxing, sitting here talking with him. He was the sort of man who grew on one, Jenna decided. The sort of man who could provide a comforting bulwark against the unpleasant harshness of life. The sort of man who made good husband and father material. She could just see him patiently explaining things to small children, answering their endless questions… It was a role she found difficult to visualise Simon in, and yet some day presumably he would marry and have children.

  Perhaps he would leave them to the care of his wife and a nanny, while he rose higher and higher up the legal profession ladder.

  Barristers did not have much time for family life. And yet, in almost direct contrast to that, he had bought himself a house. She frowned a little, bending her head, and absently watching the progress of a small beetle along a stalk of grass.

  What was it that made people fall in love so ridiculously and unwantedly?

  Take herself and John. They would have made an almost ideal couple. She sensed that they shared the same ideals, the same values, and yet much as she enjoyed his company, there was no spark there, none of that savage, bitter excitement that raced through her veins whenever she set eyes on Simon.

  'You must be looking forward to going home.'

  His quiet comment threw her off guard and she stared at him, wondering if she had said or done something that betrayed the truth, and then she realised that he was referring to their supposedly imminent wedding.

  'I still can't quite believe it's all happening.' It seemed a fairly safe remark to make.

  John smiled at her. 'I rather thought those would have been Simon's sentiments.' He qualified his statement by adding, 'When
they were in Canada last year, Susie used to tease him about you…'

  Susie had teased Simon about her! She felt as though she had just received a blow to her heart. She had guessed, of course, that her friend must have realised how she felt about him, but she had never expected Susie to betray her by discussing her feelings with Simon, by joking with him about them… But then she had been inclined to be blind where Susie was concerned, she realised bitterly, remembering how her friend had used and deceived her.

  She was mulling over her shock and pain, when John continued wryly, 'I must admit I rather envied you, when I heard Susie saying that you had held Simon at an arm's length for years. I wondered how on earth you managed to do it. It struck me quite forcibly that if I was able to do the same thing with Susie, she might not have left me.'

  Jenna barely heard the last part of his conversation. It was obvious that John must have somehow got Susie's teasing comment mixed up, if he believed that Simon loved her.

  'It's hell on earth loving someone who doesn't love you back,' he continued quietly. 'It's self-destructive, and a whole host of other emotions I don't even like to name, and yet there's nothing you can do about it.'

  Jenna felt for him. She knew exactly what he meant. She reached out and covered his clenched hand with her own.

  A shadow fell across them and Jenna looked up to see Simon frowning down on them.

  'Ma sent me to tell you that lunch is ready.'

  Jenna accepted the hand that John automatically held out to her as she scrambled to her feet. She walked ahead of the two men down the narrow footpath, assuming that since they were friends Simon would appreciate John's company more than he would hers, but to her surprise, when she turned to wait for them, she saw that they were walking singly, and that Simon was still frowning and tight-lipped.

  Maybe he was feeling the strain of this bogus engagement as much as she was herself. Well, if so, it was his own fault.

  All through lunch Jenna was aware that something had annoyed Simon. He barely spoke to either John or herself, limiting himself to monosyllabic responses when anyone addressed a direct comment to him.