by Sandra Field
In response to that involuntary movement, Gray’s arm tightened and he glanced down at her ashen face. ‘We’d better get you straight home.’
Turning to the other man, he said coolly, ‘Goodnight and thanks for the party.’
They were moving away when he added over his shoulder, ‘Oh, by the way, Sue Collins seems to be looking for a rich husband. She’s just assured me she would do anything for a man who could give her the kind of lifestyle she’s set her heart on.’
Sketching a mocking salute, Gray led Rebecca across the garden to where his car was parked and, her knees feeling like jelly, she sank into it with relief.
He drove back to Santa Rosa without saying a word, while Rebecca shrank into herself, her mind refusing to let go of what had happened that evening.
As her skin crawled and nausea filled her, time and time again she unwillingly relived the moment when Andrew Scrivener had crushed her to him, and his mouth, with those thick, sensual lips had closed over hers.
As soon as they came to a halt by the veranda, before Gray could come round and help her, she stumbled out of the car, and the instant he had opened the front door of the house she made to brush past him.
He caught hold of her arm. ‘Where are you off to in such a hurry?’
She turned large, unseeing eyes on him. ‘I’d like to take a shower.’
His face softened. ‘Very well. Don’t be long, and I’ll fix us a nightcap.’
Going straight to her bathroom, she stripped off her things, stepped into the shower stall and for a long time stood under the flow of hot water, letting it run over her face and into her mouth, trying to wash away any last traces of that kiss.
A loud rap at the door made her jump. ‘All right in there?’ Gray called.
‘Yes,’ she answered in a muffled voice.
‘I’ll give you five more minutes.’
She turned off the shower, rubbed herself dry and, pulling on a towelling robe, took the pins from her hair and brushed out the damp, tangled mass.
Then, too tired to bother getting dressed again, she slipped her feet into mules and went out onto the moonlit patio just as she was.
He settled her into a chair and passed her a brandy. As she opened her mouth to protest, he said firmly, ‘It’s for medicinal purposes. You need it.’
‘Perhaps I do.’ She took a sip, and felt its smooth, fiery warmth slide down her throat to banish the last of the lingering nausea.
His eyes gleaming silver in the moonlight, he studied her face. ‘Feeling somewhat better?’
She nodded.
‘I’m sorry you had such an unpleasant experience.’
‘It was partly my own fault,’ she admitted. ‘I should have had more sense than to go with him.’
Then anxiously, ‘What if he withdraws from the deal now he’s been humiliated?’
‘My guess is, he won’t. He’s too good a businessman to let anything get in the way of making money.’
‘Suppose you’re wrong?’
He lifted broad shoulders in a shrug. ‘If I am, Finance International will just have to weather it.’
‘I’m only sorry things happened the way they did. Perhaps if I’d behaved differently…’
‘You mean, if you’d agreed to marry him?’ Gray asked with grim humour.
‘It’s no laughing matter. You may find yourself in serious trouble with Philip Lorne, and it will be all my fault for behaving so stupidly.’
‘There’s no need to start blaming yourself. If it hadn’t been for you, Scrivener would have already pulled out.’
‘I just wish you hadn’t had to get involved,’ she said miserably, ‘then at least he couldn’t have blamed you.’
Gray gave her an ironic smile. ‘Are you suggesting that instead of riding up on my white charger I should have left you to defend your own honour?’
Repressing a shudder, she assured him, ‘I’m very pleased you didn’t.’ Then guiltily, ‘And I haven’t even thanked you yet.’
‘Think nothing of it. Any time you need rescuing just let me know and I’ll make sure I’m on the spot.’
That sparked off a thought, and she asked curiously, ‘How come you were on the spot? How did you know where to find me?’
‘When I’d looked all over for you, I did what I should have had the sense to do in the first place; put pressure on Sue Collins.
‘She admitted that the whole thing had been arranged, and that when she had got me safely out of the way Scrivener was planning to show you the house he’s having built.
‘I was hoping against hope that you wouldn’t be fool enough to go inside, and it was a great relief when I reached the trees and saw the pair of you start to return.
‘Everything seemed to be fine, so I decided that, rather than make an uncomfortable threesome, I would stay out of sight until you’d passed, and then cut across the garden back to the house.
‘Fortunately, as it turned out, I found myself unwittingly eavesdropping when you stopped fairly close to where I was standing.’
‘But if you overheard everything, why didn’t you…?’ With a sudden unhappy realisation of what his answer would be, she faltered to a stop.
‘Step in sooner? I can only apologise for not doing so. But I still wasn’t one hundred per cent sure that you weren’t playing hard to get, that you didn’t want to be the fourth Mrs Scrivener.’
‘So you did think I was just like the others…’ she whispered, her hurt showing.
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t think that. I’ve never thought it since first meeting you. Though I must admit a few doubts had crept in.
‘On the first occasion this marriage thing came up you didn’t exactly dismiss it out of hand. In fact, if I remember rightly, you said something like, “I’ll bear that in mind.”
‘And tonight, when I mentioned making hay while the sun shone, you answered, “I might just do that.”’
‘I only said those things because I was hurt by your attitude and what you’d said. I had no intention of doing anything of the kind.’
‘Then why did you choose to go to Hillsden?’
‘I didn’t want to go, but I thought a party might help to ease the…the situation…’
‘If only I’d realised that. But when I discovered you’d gone off with Scrivener quite happily in spite of my warning, it made me wary of interfering.
‘Though I couldn’t resist following to make sure you were all right.’
In a heartfelt voice, she said, ‘I can only thank God you did.’
CHAPTER TEN
AFTER a moment, his voice thoughtful, Gray said, ‘I must admit that I was fascinated to learn what lengths he’d go to to try and persuade you.
‘Knowing how much you love Elmslee Manor, I did wonder if offering you that might do the trick.’
Rebecca shook her head. ‘Though I’d give the world to have Elmslee, I’d never marry Andrew Scrivener to get it.’
Jokingly, he asked, ‘If I happened to be rich enough to offer you Elmslee, would you marry me?’
‘No,’ she answered unhesitatingly. And knew, even as she spoke, that if he wanted her for his wife she would marry him if he hadn’t got a penny and could offer her nothing but a shack.
‘So you put me in the same class as Scrivener?’
‘You must know perfectly well I don’t.’
‘Then it’s because you still love Jason?’
‘I don’t still love Jason,’ she said flatly. ‘I realised that the morning we left Boston.’
‘If that’s the case, as you’ve been willing to sleep with me, I’m intrigued to know why you wouldn’t marry me if I was rich enough to give you Elmslee as a wedding present.’
‘Because you’d always believe you’d bought me.’
‘And you’d like your husband to respect you?’
She lifted her chin. ‘Yes, I would.’
‘Fair enough…But there’s one important thing you haven’t mentioned.’
When she just
looked at him, he said, ‘Love. I heard you tell Scrivener that you could never marry a man you didn’t love.’
‘No, I couldn’t.’
‘And of course you don’t love me.’ It was a statement not a question. All the same he seemed to be waiting for an answer.
About to assure him she didn’t, she paused, knowing it was a lie. From the moment he had walked into the summer house she had been lost. In Boston she had warned herself not to let him become part of her life, necessary to her, but it had already been too late. She had loved him even then.
But she mustn’t admit it. He’d made it plain that he didn’t want any emotional entanglements, and if he learnt the truth now it would only embarrass him…
‘Having trouble deciding?’ he queried.
‘N-no…’
‘No, you’re not having trouble deciding? Or no, you don’t love me?’
‘No, I don’t love you.’ Despite all her efforts her voice shook slightly.
‘But what guarantee is there that love will make a marriage work? It would have been a terrible mistake to marry Jason.’
‘Yes, I know,’ she admitted quietly. ‘Though, looking back, I can see now that I never really did love Jason. It was just infatuation.’
Sighing, she added, ‘I suppose, never having been in love before, I couldn’t tell the difference.’
They both fell silent, and after a moment, watching her stifle a yawn, Gray said abruptly, ‘Time for bed, I think.’
All at once her breathing grew shallow and her pulses quickened. Now he was finally convinced that she wasn’t a gold-digger, if he suggested moving back into her room she would welcome him with open arms.
But he made no such suggestion.
When they reached her bedroom door, he hesitated for a moment as though about to kiss her goodnight. Her lips had parted in eager anticipation, when he walked away with just a quiet, ‘Sleep well.’
Sleep, however, proved to be elusive, and she tossed and turned restlessly for what seemed an age. When she did finally drop off, it was to dream that she was trapped in an underground maze with no way out, and Andrew Scrivener close at her heels.
He reached out of the darkness to grab hold of her and she awoke with a silent scream, drenched in perspiration and with a wildly beating heart.
Afraid to go back to sleep again, she lay with her eyes wide open, staring up at a ceiling dappled with moon shadows.
She wanted to be with Gray, wanted the comfort of his arms and the feel of his body next to hers. Wanted to lie with the man she loved.
But perhaps he no longer wanted her?
No, she couldn’t believe that. Some instinct told her that, while he didn’t love her, he did want her. So why hadn’t he suggested moving back?
The answer came immediately. Because he was too proud. His leaving had been at her behest, so he was waiting for her to ask him to come back.
Or go to him.
He might be asleep, the hesitant part suggested.
If he was, which somehow she doubted, she could always wake him.
But after what she had said earlier in the evening, it would mean sinking her pride.
So what? Pride was a cold bedfellow. And after this holiday he would go back to the States and all she would have would be memories.
Barefoot, and in her thin cotton nightie, she padded to his door and knocked.
After a moment it opened, and he stood there naked.
Taking a deep breath, she said awkwardly, ‘I seem to be making a habit of this.’
‘I’m certainly not complaining.’ Smiling at her, he added, ‘Though you are a shade overdressed.’
The rest of the holiday proved to be sheer bliss and they enjoyed life to the full. Some days they took the car and went sightseeing, either inland or to the coast; others they walked hand in hand or just lazed in the sun.
Gray taught her how to swim with some degree of confidence, and even dive, and, having come across a pack of cards, she taught him how to play cribbage, a game she had often played with her father.
At times they shared a companionable silence, at others they talked freely, but by tacit consent they avoided all personal topics. They ate simply, and mostly out of doors, except for in the mornings, when, having made sweet love for most of the night, they breakfasted in bed before showering together.
It was the happiest time Rebecca had ever known and she wanted it never to end.
Then all too soon the last morning arrived, and with it Gloria Redford, who had popped in to return their clean laundry and resume her caretaking duties.
For once she said hardly anything, apparently made speechless by the huge tip Gray gave her, and the promise that he would do his best to find a job for her husband without delay.
Touched by his kindness, and battling against the feeling of sadness that the end of the idyll brought, Rebecca felt tears sting behind her eyes. But somehow she managed to keep smiling while they said their goodbyes, and set off to drive back to San Francisco. They were boarding the plane before she thought to ask, ‘Will we be going straight through?’
‘No, as it’s such a long haul I thought it best to break our journey in Boston, so I’ve booked a room at a hotel near the airport.’
Rebecca sighed. In less than twenty-four hours they would be home and parting company. But, as though they were both determined not to spoil their last day together, neither of them mentioned it.
When they reached London it was damp and overcast, and the contrast to the golden days they had just spent lowered her spirits even more.
As soon as the airport formalities were over, a uniformed chauffeur appeared as if by magic to deal with their luggage and lead them to where a sleek limousine was waiting for them.
As he began to load their cases into the boot, she braced herself and said to Gray, ‘If it’s out of your way to drop me, I can always get a taxi.’
‘It isn’t out of my way,’ he answered evenly.
Handing her into the car, he followed her in and took a seat beside her, before adding, ‘Though unless you insist, I wasn’t intending to take you home just yet. There are still a lot of things to be settled.’
Her heart gave a little flip. ‘Things?’ she echoed.
He looked at her with those fascinating green eyes. ‘I presume you won’t be taking up Scrivener’s offer of a job?’
‘No, I certainly won’t.’
‘Then we still have your future to consider. I thought, if you’re agreeable, you could stay at my house until we’ve had a chance to really talk?’
It was a wonderful, unexpected gift, and, choked by excitement, all she could do was nod.
‘Good,’ he said casually. ‘Then we’ll discuss the various possibilities as soon as I’ve dealt with the business that brought me back to London.’
The white-stuccoed town house they drew up in front of had a handsome portico, long windows and a basement guarded by black wrought-iron railings.
Situated in a quiet square near Regent’s Park, it was much bigger and grander than anything she might have imagined.
While the chauffeur dealt with the luggage, Gray explained, ‘It was my grandparents’ house. Jason always referred to it as “the family mausoleum”.’
‘Why was that?’
‘Come and meet the housekeeper, and you’ll no doubt understand why. Mrs Sheldon is somewhere in her nineties. She’s been with the family since the year dot, and she still runs the household with the proverbial rod of iron.
‘I offered to have a stairlift installed, but she soon put me in my place. She said when she was too old to climb the stairs she would let me know.’
Grinning, he added, ‘She called me Master Graydon until I was twenty. I’m quite fond of her. She’s one of the reasons I keep the house on. I think it would kill her if she had to leave.’
Opening the door, he ushered Rebecca into a large wood-panelled hall with an elegant staircase and a crystal chandelier.
As he closed the doo
r behind them a small, upright figure appeared, dressed neatly in black. Her silver hair was taken up in a bun, and the skin of her pale face stretched so tightly over the bones that it appeared translucent.
She could well have been a corpse, Rebecca reflected, if it hadn’t been for the small, birdlike eyes that were so amazingly alive and intelligent.
‘Mr Graydon. It’s nice to have you back.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Sheldon.’
‘Did you have a good holiday?’
‘Marvellous.’ Gray put an arm around Rebecca’s waist, and smiled at her.
Her heart in her eyes, she smiled back.
‘Mrs Sheldon, this is Miss Ferris.’
‘How do you do?’ Rebecca turned to the old lady, whose sharp gaze had been assessing her.
After a moment, with what seemed to be a nod of approval, the housekeeper said, ‘If you’d like to freshen up, Miss Ferris, I’ll show you to your room.’
So Gray had made arrangements for her to stay before he’d even asked her!
As she glanced at him, he said easily, ‘When you come down again you’ll find me in the den.’
Mrs Sheldon, proving more sprightly than Rebecca would have expected, led the way upstairs and opened a door to the right. ‘This is the Rose Room. I hope you’ll be comfortable.’
‘Thank you. I’m sure I will.’
‘I’ll get Watkins to bring up your luggage. If you need anything, just ring for Mary.’
Large and airy, the room had Regency wallpaper, a pale carpet and long windows that overlooked a walled garden. It smelled pleasantly of beeswax and lavender, and was furnished with antiques that wore the patina of age.
The first door she tried refused to open, the second led into an en suite bathroom that had all the trappings of the twenty-first century. It looked so inviting that she decided to have a quick shower before going down again.
There was a tap at the door, and the chauffeur carried in her case and put it on a low chest. When she thanked him with a smile, looking gratified, he gave her a smart salute.
As she opened her case and took out a change of clothing, she wondered why Gray had asked her to stay. What it was he wanted to talk about.
