‘You seem very distraite. It makes me wonder if you’re planning something…’
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘I WAS thinking.’
He pursed his lips. ‘Not particularly happy thoughts, judging by the look on your face.’
Cursing herself, knowing she must allay his suspicions, Elizabeth said with perfect truth, ‘I’m not looking forward to having to tell Richard how things are. It’s sure to come as an awful shock.’
‘He’s certainly not going to like the fact that the woman he thought of as his is really mine,’ Quinn commented, with what sounded remarkably like triumph. ‘However, I might let him have the diamond as a consolation prize…’
Catching Elizabeth’s expression, Quinn paused. ‘But perhaps you don’t want him to have it? Maybe you’d prefer to keep it?’
‘No, I certainly wouldn’t.’
‘Then why the frown?’
‘I thought that was a very callous thing to say,’ she muttered. ‘Poor Richard’s bound to be hurt and miserable…’
‘It’s my opinion that he would have been a damn sight more hurt and miserable if you had gone ahead and married him…
‘At first I was jealous as hell every time his name was mentioned. Then I realized, despite your efforts to convince us both to the contrary, that any feelings you had for him were lukewarm, rather than passionate… And I strongly believe that every man should have a wife who genuinely loves him.’
‘With the exception of yourself?’ The words were out before she could stop them.
Apparently unruffled, Quinn observed, ‘You may not love me, but at a guess I should say you feel a lot more for me than you do for him.’
She was unable to deny the charge.
For Richard she had felt a straightforward liking and respect and a growing fondness. The feelings she had for Quinn went a great deal deeper, were far more complex and ambivalent… A combination of love and something close to hate; a yearning to be with him, vying with the need to escape; a wealth of warmth and tenderness, coupled with a passionate resentment that he thought so ill of her.
Quinn watched her through his lashes, as though expecting a contradiction, but, biting her lip, she stayed silent.
‘I presume you’ll want to talk to Beaumont before we start for the States?’ he asked after a moment.
‘Yes.’ She must talk to Richard as soon as possible, but she had no intention of going to the States, or anywhere else, with Quinn. Though a sense of self-preservation warned that this was no time to say so.
It would be a great deal more prudent to pretend to go along with his plans until she was safely back in Cantle Cottage with the door locked against him…
‘Confessing to your fiancé that you already have a husband isn’t something you can really do over the phone,’ Quinn went on, ‘so that means waiting until he gets back from Amsterdam.
‘Even so,’ he added with satisfaction, ‘we should be able to travel, say, Wednesday or Thursday at the latest. If we fly Concorde to New York I might even be able to take my seat at the World Banking Conference before we begin our honeymoon proper.
‘And, speaking of honeymoons, I wondered about Hawaii as a possible destination? Unless you can think of anywhere else you’d specially like to go?’
Seeing he was waiting for an answer, she murmured that Hawaii sounded wonderful, and, afraid he’d read her face, rose and began to clear the table.
She was putting the dishes in the sink when, pushing back his chair, he queried, ‘Need any help?’
‘No, thank you,’ she answered politely, and, taking care not to look in his direction, heard him leave the kitchen.
Through the window she could see grey mist hanging over the now neglected garden, and a bank of thicker fog lying out at sea. If they didn’t leave soon the journey back to London could well be a hazardous one.
As soon as everything was in order, Elizabeth dried her hands and hurried up to her room for her case and shoulder-bag. Leaving them in the hall, she went in search of him.
She was both surprised and dismayed to find all the lights were on in the study and a cheerful fire was burning.
Showing every sign of being settled for the day, Quinn was sitting at the desk glancing through a miscellaneous pile of notebooks.
When he looked up, she asked with more impatience than she’d intended to show, ‘Shouldn’t we be leaving soon?’
‘What’s the rush?’ he asked mildly.
‘Well, we…we don’t want to miss the tide… And the fog shows every sign of getting worse.’
‘It’s no great tragedy if we’re forced to stay. Though our meals may be a little bohemian, we’re not likely to starve.’
‘No, but I…I’d like to get back.’
‘Any particular reason for the hurry?’
‘I don’t feel comfortable here,’ she said in a rush. ‘If you remember, I didn’t want to come in the first place.’
‘Guilty conscience?’ he asked succinctly.
‘No,’ she denied.
His face a little stern above the black polo shirt, he suggested, ‘In that case why don’t you sit down in front of the fire until I’ve had a look through this lot?’
As, seeing nothing else for it, she took a seat, he queried, ‘By the way, do you know if Henry kept a diary?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. I know he did a lot of writing, but I never saw him with anything resembling a diary.’
Quinn returned his attention to the task in hand, while Elizabeth did her best to possess her soul in patience.
After a little while the inactivity began to fray her nerves. Glancing up, she saw Quinn’s eyes were fixed on her thoughtfully. ‘You seem restless.’
‘I feel restless,’ she admitted.
‘You used to be a great reader, and there are plenty of books.’
‘I couldn’t settle to reading.’ With a great deal of truth, she admitted, ‘I keep thinking of all the things I have to do when we get back to town.’
‘Such as?’
Needing convincing reasons for returning as soon as possible, she said, ‘I must let Lady Beaumont know I won’t be going back… Then there’s the cottage to clean through, and I’ll have to make arrangements about the keys and find someone else to keep an eye on the place… And of course there are things like credit card statements and bills to be paid…
‘The more I think about it, the more there seems to be to get done. In fact I’m beginning to doubt if I can be ready in time…’
Still watching her, Quinn said nothing.
Flustered by that narrow-eyed, assessing look, she stumbled on, ‘But as you have a seat at the World Banking Conference you could always go on ahead…’
‘I think not.’ There was a little edge to his voice, a certain grimness that suggested he didn’t altogether trust her apparent capitulation.
As if to prove it, he added wryly, ‘The last time I went back to the States and left you alone I returned to find the bird had flown…’
‘Oh, but I—’
‘Then, I had very little choice. I couldn’t let my uncle lose the bank he’d been head of for the whole of his working life.
‘This time, however, I have no such debt of gratitude to repay, and I have every intention of putting personal considerations before business.’
Trenchantly, he added, ‘Experience has taught me a valuable lesson, and I never make the same mistake twice…’
It was a pity she couldn’t boast the same, Elizabeth thought vexedly. If she hadn’t been weak enough to give in to him a second time, she wouldn’t be caught in this trap.
‘No, my sweet Jo, I intend to be by your side day and night until I’m satisfied that you really do mean to stay with me.’
‘How cosy.’
‘Do I detect a sour note?’
‘It makes you seem like a gaoler.’
Shrugging, he answered, ‘Needs must,’ and returned to his perusal of the notebooks.
With a
sinking heart she faced the fact that simply going back to Cantle Cottage and locking him out—if she could—wasn’t going to work. As long as he knew where she was, he wouldn’t give up, and if he laid siege to the place, what then?
He couldn’t force her to go back with him, but she would be fighting herself as well as him, and how long could she hold out?
Somehow she must get away from him, and the sooner the better. Every moment they were together found her deeper in his toils. Soon she wouldn’t have the strength to go, and she couldn’t bear to live with a man who despised her.
It seemed the only way to be free of him was to disappear as swiftly and completely as she had done before.
Though for most of the time she had lived without happiness or pleasure or laughter, but with an almost constant ache of regret for what might have been, she had survived.
And she could do it again. If she could get away.
But the last time she had taken him by surprise. This time it would be so much harder. From what he’d just said, even when they were back in London, he had no intention of leaving her side…
As she mulled over the possibilities, a daring thought struck her. Could she possibly slip away now, while he was occupied? If she could take the car, even though it was foggy, she ought to be back in town by early evening.
He would almost certainly follow her by whatever means he could… But with a head start it should be possible to pick up her few belongings, leave the Mercedes outside the cottage, and disappear before he arrived on the scene.
Yes, it might just work. It was certainly her best chance.
So long as she could find the car keys and take care not to miss the tide…
Roused into action, she jumped to her feet.
Looking up, Quinn enquired idly, ‘Going somewhere?’
Her brain suddenly icily clear, her answer came pat. ‘Yesterday you mentioned that you wanted to clear the house… I thought while I needed something to occupy me I’d go and sort through the clothes and things that are still in my room. I’ll put them in bags for some charity or other…’
Her voice as casual as she could make it, she asked, ‘Have you any idea how long you’ll be?’
‘I doubt if I’ll be finished in time to get across today. I want to look at these, and I still have to go through the contents of the safe and find the brooch Henry wanted you to have.’
Cocking an eyebrow, he added, ‘I hope you don’t mind too much if we have to spend another night here?’
It might be exactly what she needed. If she could get safely over and leave him stranded here it would give her even more time.
‘No, I don’t mind.’ Realizing she’d sounded far too eager, she bit her lip and, trying to appear reluctant but resigned, added, ‘It’s no use minding if it can’t be helped.’
Then, to allay any possible suspicions, she said, ‘I’ll have a look through the freezer and see what I can find for our evening meal. Is there anything in particular you fancy?’
‘Not really. Surprise me.’
With a bit of luck she’d do just that.
The jacket she’d been wearing the previous day was lying over a chair. It was the only coat she had with her, but if she picked it up it might arouse his suspicions… She would manage without it.
As she turned towards the door, he said, ‘Come and give me a kiss before you go.’
His hair a little rumpled, as though he’d been running his fingers through it, a stray lock falling over his forehead, he looked boyish and oddly vulnerable.
Elizabeth had a sudden vivid picture of his early years, the child he must have been. Young, sensitive, desperate to be loved and wanted after his mother’s death, feeling abandoned by the next woman he’d given his love to, and rejected by his father…
It was a blessing his aunt and uncle had loved and wanted him. Even so, his earlier experience must have left some scars.
Walking over to the desk, she stooped to kiss his cheek. She felt an almost maternal tenderness, and a great sadness that he couldn’t care for her as she cared for him.
‘I was expecting a proper kiss,’ he complained, as she straightened.
Her stomach clenching as though a lift had dropped, it occurred to her that this might be the last time she would ever kiss him.
She bent and kissed his lips. Firm, chiselled lips that could soften into sensuality, and spark off a wild hunger, but which at the moment were quiescent beneath hers.
‘That’s better,’ he muttered. And, suddenly all man, with a movement she was unprepared for he pulled her on to his knee and deepened the kiss, sending both her senses and her sense of purpose reeling.
With a tremendous effort of will she pulled away, her grey eyes clouded with emotion. The lure was sweet…but, if she took it, before long only bitterness would be left.
When he would have kissed her again, she put her fingers over his mouth. ‘We’ve both got work to do,’ she said huskily. ‘If we go on like this we’ll never get back to London.’
‘I didn’t realize what an eminently sensible woman I’d married.’ Sighing, he let her go.
Trying to look casual, unhurried, she made her way to the door, and though she knew his eyes were on her she refused to look back.
As soon as the door was safely closed behind her, she went up to his room as quickly as possible. The olive-green jacket and sweater he’d been wearing when they arrived were hanging over the back of a chair.
Trying not to feel like the thief he thought her, she searched hastily through the jacket pockets. They yielded a wallet, an international driving licence, a small comb, a pocket knife and a folded handkerchief. Then, just as she was giving up hope, a set of keys.
The sudden blaze of excitement fizzled out as she realized they were house keys. So where had he put the car keys?
Without much hope she went through his grip. It contained nothing but his evening wear and a couple of changes of clothing. A quick look round the room also proved fruitless.
The car keys were almost certainly in his trouser pocket. That left only one thing to do: she must walk across.
Then what?
A train? Or perhaps someone would have a car she could hire? Though both those options would almost certainly take time… And, as soon as he realized she was gone, if the causeway was still clear, he’d follow her.
Well, she’d just have to pray that he missed the tide. She didn’t dare think about the alternative… Unless… Jenny Hicks!
While she’d been living at Saltmarsh, Jenny had been the town’s librarian, and they’d become good friends. Jenny’s parents had kept a small, but cheerful, bed and breakfast place quite close to the shore.
Of course that was over five years ago, but the family were local, born and bred in Saltmarsh, which made it unlikely that they would have moved.
To the best of her knowledge, Quinn knew nothing about them, so she’d be safe hiding out there until she was sure he’d gone. Then she could make her way to London, or some other big town, where it would be easy to disappear. She had money and credit cards with her…
Thoughts racing, she crept downstairs and picked up her shoulder-bag. It seemed best to leave her case. She would get on faster without it, and if Quinn should come through the hall its presence might help to lull any suspicions.
Jenny would probably be happy to lend her anything she needed until she’d had a chance to do some shopping…
The hinges of the heavy front door groaned a little as she opened it, making her hold her breath. When there was no sign of movement from the study, she gave a sigh of relief and pulled the door to quietly behind her.
As soon as she was outside, the raw, foggy air wrapped around her, making her shiver. But if she walked fast enough, she told herself bracingly, she wouldn’t feel the cold.
The car was still standing in front of the garages, where Quinn had left it, and, with a sigh of regret, she hurried past it and down the paved incline, glad that the study was on the other
side of the house.
But even if Quinn had been able to look out in that direction he would have had a job to see her. It was a lot foggier than she’d realized. Reaching the shoreline, she glanced back. The house was only a dark, featureless bulk in the murk.
From somewhere close at hand an invisible sea bird called mournfully. It was answered by the harsh, mewing cry of a gull.
Teeth chattering, and already chilled to the bone, she looked ahead. Some half-mile away, on the mainland, partly obscured by the grey, shifting curtain, the lights of the town signalled warmth and shelter.
Thanking heaven that she was wearing flat-heeled shoes, and taking care to watch the thin white poles that, planted at intervals, marked the edges of the causeway, she made what speed she could, alternately walking and running, her thoughts keeping pace.
Having to do it this way meant she dared not go back to Cantle Cottage, because Quinn was sure to have it watched. But she had nothing there she couldn’t bear to leave behind. At least for the time being…
A stitch in her side made her pause for a moment to catch her breath, before hurrying on.
At the first opportunity she would have to call Australia and ask Emily Henderson what she wanted to do about the keys, and finding a new caretaker for the cottage…
A worse problem was breaking the news to Richard. Though uncertain just how much she would need to tell him, she would have to write as soon as possible and let him know the engagement was off.
It seemed a cowardly way to do it, but she wouldn’t dare try to see him. Quinn would be waiting for just that very thing…
The causeway, which on a fine summer day was no distance at all, now seemed an awful long way, and though she kept moving as fast as possible she felt almost paralyzed with cold.
And surely the visibility was getting much worse? With a sudden shock of fear she realized that within the last few seconds the white poles stretching ahead had disappeared. So had the lights of the town.
A bank of denser fog rolling in from the sea had overtaken her silently, stealthily, a smothering blanket, deadening sound and obscuring everything.
Fighting down raw-edged panic, she tried to think logically. The only thing she could do was keep going. She couldn’t be too far from the mainland. Once she was off the causeway and away from the sea, visibility was almost certain to improve.
Marriage on Trial Page 11
