Had Alex fallen for Rachel? Had Rachel fallen for him? She wanted that neither of them should be hurt again. And, oh, lord, what about Vere?
Fabienne had driven through the village of Sutton Ash, and was on the drive of Brackendale when she realised, most particularly, that she did not want Vere to be hurt. Oh, grief, she thought, and steered her car round to the rear and pulled up.
Because of the time Rachel did not hang around with the children but, leaving Fabienne to put the car away, collected up their gear and went straight into the house.
The car was garaged and Fabienne had her overnight bag in one hand, the garage door key in the other when, hearing a sound, she spun round from the garage-and met the glare of Vere Tolladine's grey eyes full on. And then she knew. It was not Brackendale so much that she had been desperate to get back to, but its owner. It was Vere she had missed, not his home. Only
then, on seeing him again, did Fabienne acknowledge what had been there all the time-that she was in love with him.
Which was a great pity. Because in a voice that was far from loving towards her-in fact in a voice that assured her he felt nothing for her whatsoever save fury-Vere Tolladine positively roared, 'What the hell do you think you're doing bringing those two mites home at this time of night!'
Fabienne stared helplessly at him. From somewhere, she knew, she was going to have to find some stiffening-that, or let him wipe the floor with her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SHE was not, Fabienne decided on that instant, the type to let anyone wipe the floor with her. So, regardless of how her heart ached just to see him, she mentally drew herself up to her full height and, maybe when she should have tried to be a small degree conciliatory, 'A late night occasionally never hurt anyone!' she tossed at him.
Vere did not care for her standing up to him now any more than he had before; she could tell that from the way his mouth firmed, and the way he looked as if he could cheerfully throttle her. 'Those children are seven years old,' he reminded her harshly, 'and have to be up for school in the morning.'
'They will be up for school-I'll personally see to it!' she snapped. 'And I suppose you'll personally cope with their ill-humour, their aggression brought on by tiredness, too!'
'I've done it before!' She refused to be shouted down. 'And anyway,' she sped on, before he could get another word in, 'I've coped with your ill-humour, your aggression without too much trouble, so-'
'You insufferable, impertinent...' Words seemed to fail him. 'Baggage?' she supplied.
'Why the hell I put up with you, I don't know!' he roared. 'The feeling's mutual!' she hurled straight back-though took a hasty step to one side when Vere took a 'God give me strength' kind of indrawn breath and moved, his arms coming up, towards her. 'Don't you dare hit me!' she yelled in panic, fairly certain then that he was about to either beat her or strangle the life out of her.
Abruptly, as her panicky words reached him, he stopped. And hostile wasn't the word for it then when, 'Get out of my sight-fast!' he thundered.
For once in her life Fabienne was pleased to obey an order without further comment. She went, and quickly!
Up in her room she closed the door and leant against it, and swallowed hard. It was then that she discovered that she was shaking from her encounter with Vere. She took a fractured breath and, knowing that there was no way she was going to sleep, she went and sank down into her bedroom chair. Oh, God help her, this was dreadful! Would Vere really have set about her?
An hour later she had calmed down sufficiently to realise that, although it was probably on the cards that Vere might have caught hold of her the better to ram home his point of view-whatever that point of view was-he was probably as appalled as she at the notion that he might physically have set about her. Another hour passed during which she acknowledged that being in love was hell. It gave you, freely and un-asked for, the sick pain of jealousy, the confusion of not knowing where the devil you were and the bewildering, wild, emotions of wanting only to be loving and gentle-while at the same time it let loose a veritable virago in your mouth.
It was no use wondering what in creation was the matter with her-she knew. She was in love with the cantankerous swine!
For a further age Fabienne sat there, sleep light-years away, and it was only when she moved her position and caught sight of her watch and, startled, saw that it was ten-past three, that she realised that if she did not want to feel like a piece of limp rag in a few hours' time she had better try to get some sleep. She was wide awake still, though, and thought that perhaps a shower might help her to relax. It did not, and she was in bed but still wide awake when dawn started to filter across the night sky.
When she did finally become drowsy and succumb, she was aware of not a sound. That was until some sound brought her slowly to the surface. She still had her eyes closed when that sound came again. It was the sound of an all-male voice-a voice she would know anywhere as it repeated, 'Fabienne!' At once her eyes shot open. But for a moment, as her eyes registered the tall, all-masculine Vere Tolladine standing there, she had no idea where she was. 'What...?' she gasped helplessly.
'Excuse me for barging in,' Vere drawled, not looking in the least apologetic, 'but I thought someone ought to come and check that you hadn't died in the night.'
Her head suddenly cleared and with it came the reality of where she was, and who he was, and that today was Monday. 'What time is it?' she questioned huskily, and was not at all surprised to find that her voice was husky. This might be reality, but it still seemed unreal somehow.
Her question was straightforward, but his answer threw her into the wildest depths of confusion for, his voice unhurried, he took his glance from her tousled hair and dainty features and, with a meaningful glance at her bosom, 'Time you covered yourself up, I'd suggest,' he replied.
Her glance followed his and she just could not believe that when she always-but always-slept with the duvet up around her ears, she had for once been so
restless in her sleep that the duvet, while covering one shoulder and one breast, had moved in the hours of sleep she had managed. What was more, somehow-and she was too stupefied to wonder how-the strap of her thin cotton nightdress was somewhere down her arm and now, in full view of Vere's not uninterested gaze, was one naked and beautifully rounded, pink-tipped breast.
'Oh!' she cried in horror, and was in such a panicky rush to get herself covered up that the whole of the duvet looked like ending up on the floor. 'If you were a gentleman, you'd help!' she wailed, and righted the cover, aware that her face must be as scarlet as her entire body felt. 'If you were a lady I'd-'
Vere began to mock. But suddenly, as he looked at her flushed face and noted her panicky, agitated manner, so he broke off and, all mockery gone, his tone grew more astounded than anything. 'Good God!' he exclaimed. 'You are a virgin!'
Fabienne was by then sitting up and, with the duvet now hugged up over her shoulders and safely tucked in, so she began to feel a touch more confident.
It was in the sparky manner of the old Fabienne Preston, anyhow, that she told him in no uncertain terms, 'At the risk of getting the sack-clear off!' His answer was to grin. A huge, very pleased and amused grin-and suddenly Fabienne was feeling a whole lot better. I love you, she thought, and somehow, just at that moment, it seemed right that it should be so. He was affable, friendly-and as she looked at him it registered that he was immaculately suited, clearly about to leave for his office. 'What time is it?'
she repeated, more urgently this time, the reality that she had slept right through her normal waking time, that she had overslept, starting to sink in.
'You know that cocky bit about the children being up for school and how you were personally going to see to it?' Vere asked, high amusement still lurking in his eyes. 'Well-you missed it.'
'Oh, grief,' she groaned and, while she loved him the more that he could refer to their set-to last night without rancour, she all but hopped out of bed then and there-but remembered. 'Er-
if you wouldn't mind,' she hinted, sufficiently chastened to amend her previous 'clear off slightly.
'Have a lie-in,' he suggested, making not the smallest move in the direction of the door.
'Kitty and John, they'll... '
'Be deep into their schoolwork by now, I shouldn't wonder.' She started to relax. 'You've already taken them to school?' she guessed. And, when he
nodded, she had the craziest notion that he had returned just to see her.
'You came back?' she queried, her voice again gone husky. He studied her for some long moments, his eyes roving her face, her clear skin. But when he spoke Fabienne realised just what a cloud-cuckoo-land she must be in to think for a moment that, just as she wanted to see him, Vere in return wanted to see her. For his tone was the most casual when he replied, 'I forgot my briefcase.' To her joy, though, he did not at once go on his way but, with a flick of a glance to his watch as if to say he could spare her another minute, he came and parked himself on the end of her bed and enquired, 'Do anything special over the weekend?'
'We had a special birthday party for my father on Sunday,' she answered.
'So Kitty told me. She and John got on well with your nephew Philip by the sound of it.'
'They did. They-'
'What about Saturday?'
'They-' she began.
'They went for a walk-and can they have a dog like Oliver.'
'Oops,' she laughed. 'I'm sorry.'
'Think nothing of it,' he returned, the corners of his mouth starting to pick up. 'So what did you do on Saturday?' he questioned, clearly having heard in a very short while all that the twins had been up to.
'I stayed home, and-' Abruptly she broke off. She had been about to mention that her brother had taken Rachel out to dinner but all of a sudden she felt sensitive that Vere might be hurt if he knew that.
'And what?' he demanded, the hint of a smile on his mouth coming to nothing. 'You want to be bored?'
'So bore me.'
'So I stayed home and peeled potatoes and folded napkins prettily, and...'
'No boyfriend?'
'I did get an offer, but he wouldn't take the twins as well.' Vere's right eyebrow ascended but she again saw humour come to his eyes. 'The man's a complete cad!' he observed drily, and she loved him so much and
wanted to laugh-but he was going on. 'So, although you were supposedly off duty, you still felt a strong sense of responsibility for Kitty and John.'
'They were my guests.'
'Which means,' Vere began, his look steady on her warm brown eyes, 'that you worked all weekend.'
Just to have him this pleasant to her, this charming, wiped out every memory of how hostile he could be when he felt like it. But, with her backbone already feeling like so much water, Fabienne struggled with all she had to hide her inner feelings.
'Oh, I wouldn't call it work,' she answered, and damned, as Vere stared thoughtfully at her, the fact that her voice was still husky. 'I suppose,' he mused out loud, 'that if I were halfway towards being a decent employer I'd offer you time off in lieu.'
No! She did not want that! On the one hand it was a tremendous relief that it was not the husky tone of her voice or the emotions in her over him, which he'd seen and been thoughtful about, but on the other hand she wanted to see more and more of him, to be with him-albeit with others.
She would positively loathe time off in lieu!
'Nobody-' she found a grin to toss his way 'mould accuse you of that.'
'Ye gods-did I call you cocky?' he retorted, his eyes on the impish curve to her mouth.
Her grin widened-then all at once her heart started to pound for all it was worth. Because suddenly Vere stood up, left the end of her bed, and seemed to come closer. If he kisses me I've no resistance, she panicked, half in need, half in fear of yet giving herself away.
But, just to show how mindless she had become in her love for him, Vere showed not the smallest likelihood to kiss her, but instead took another quick glance to his watch and, remarking, 'Must away to earn a crust,' he went striding to the door.
Fabienne sat just where she was for some minutes after he had gone-had Vere really come to her bedroom? Had she and Vere really had that conversation just now-she in her bed and he sitting on the end of it, all business-suited and ready to go to his business?
Fabienne got out of bed and headed for the shower to get ready to start her day. Yes, it had happened-and a smile came to her mouth as she recalled the way he had thrown back at her her 'They will be up for school-I'll personally see to it'. She had deserved that. Though, considering the time it must have been when she had eventually closed her eyes, perhaps it was not so surprising that she had overslept. She must have slept soundly, too, for if the children had tiptoed in to see her then she had not heard them.
The first sound she had heard had been the voice of the man she loved calling her name.
She was not the only one up late that morning, she discovered. Although she could remember days when Rachel had not surfaced at all-or at any rate not shown her face. She met Rachel on the landing as they both left their rooms. 'I'm late!' Rachel exclaimed at once. 'After promising myself that I was not going to stay in bed a minute past eight ever again, I did it again.'
'Don't worry about it-I was late myself this morning,' Fabienne smiled, and went down the stairs with Rachel, all at once overwhelmingly glad that Rachel had assumed that, late or not, she had been up in time to take the children to school that morning. For she suddenly knew that she did not want to tell Rachel anything of Vere's visit to her room. It was private, and beautiful, and if love had made her a miser then so be it, but she just did not want to share it with anyone.
Rachel seemed pensive over breakfast, she thought, though Fabienne was pleased to see that she had bothered with her hair and had applied a small amount of make-up-a vast difference from the 'far-away' woman she had been not so very many short weeks ago.
'Anything in particular you'd like to do today?' Fabienne enquired as they drank their coffee.
'I-' Rachel began, when just then the phone rang. Rachel did not move, and Fabienne was nearer to it.
She discovered it was Alex on the other end. 'Did I forget something?' she asked, having seen him not twenty-four hours ago, and, as fear abruptly struck, 'Are Mum and Dad OK?'
'Fine, fine,' he assured her straight away and gave her more to think about than he knew when he went on, 'I don't suppose Rachel's around, is she?'
'Rachel's here with me now. Did you want to...?'
'Can I have a word?'
Fabienne was glad she had her back to Rachel, but managed to cover the surprise that hit her by quipping in sisterly fashion, 'Don't work too hard,'
and with that she turned round to Rachel. 'Alex wants a word,' she said, and held out the phone.
Without saying anything Rachel left her chair. 'Thanks,' she offered as she took the phone from her. 'Hello,' Fabienne heard her say down the phone.
Then, 'Fine. How are you? Really?' And, with nothing being said to indicate her presence was needed, Fabienne made herself scarce. This was obviously a personal call.
Fabienne's head was buzzing with the whys and the wherefores, and the implications she saw in her brother telephoning especially to speak privately to Rachel.
First and foremost she did not want Alex to be hurt, she thought as she went upstairs to collect her bag. There was no way that she could stand by and watch him suffer again, she fretted as, downstairs again, she passed the breakfast-room where Rachel and her brother were still in telephone conversation.
And what about Vere? she thought as she went and unlocked her garage.
A whole conglomeration of 'if this, if that' was rocking her as she backed out her car. Vere most of all, more than her dearly loved brother even, she could not bear to be hurt.
And what about Rachel? she worried, as she halted her car on the standing area and sorted out some of the debris that Kitty and John had managed to leave in the back during the
car ride home yesterday. It was true, as she'd owned only that morning, that Rachel appeared to be coming out of her depression. But... Fabienne's thoughts slid quickly back to Vere again. Oh, she couldn't bear it if he was the one to be hurt. But then, what of Alex? What of Rachel?
With her head chasing around in the same agitated circles, Fabienne suddenly realised that, whatever happened, there was absolutely nothing that she could do about it. But, from what she could see, of a certainty someone was going to get hurt.
She tried to tell herself that she was making a mountain out of a molehill.
Alex had only been out with Rachel once, for goodness' sake. And one date and the odd phonecall did not make a full-blown relationship, did it? Even
if it was true that Rachel was the first female she knew whom Alex had shown an interest in since his divorce.
Fabienne was just thinking of how her brother must have been the first man Rachel had dated since her husband, when Rachel came looking for her.
'Shall we go for a walk?' Rachel asked.
'Good idea,' Fabienne responded, but could not help but notice the strange mood Rachel was in throughout the walk-one moment silent and pensive, the next her speech jerky, her manner restless.
They returned to Brackendale for a snack lunch, but it was a bit of a wasted effort because neither of them had any appetite. Though Rachel did surprise her as they returned to the drawing-room by going to move nomadically to stare out of the window, from where she announced, 'I think I'm going to sell my house.'
'Oh?' Fabienne queried, hiding the jolt of surprise to hear that part of her delighted that Rachel was at last showing signs of wanting to make her own decisions, while another part of her wondered if Rachel was intending to move into Brackendale permanently.
'I know now that I shall never want to live there again,' Rachel went on. 'I've lived here; I've been in your home-suddenly everything I had with Nick seems sullied, sordid-and nothing to do with me, the person I know I am deep down.' By the sound of it, Rachel feared she had been in danger of accepting the sordid standards of her womaniser of a husband, and had let her own higher standards drop. 'If I can help at all?' she offered, unable to fault the notion that for Rachel's own sake it might benefit her to get rid of the home which her dead husband had sullied by taking his mistress there. 'Thanks, Fabienne-I might take you up on that.'
Bachelor's Family Page 11
