by Helen Brooks
‘Fabia? Listen to me. You have to want this in your mind as much as your body; I’m not settling for second-best. Do you hear me?’
‘Second-best...?’ As she pulled herself back into the cold light of reason it was to see his face, inches from her own, his dark gold eyes blazing with passion and... something else, something she couldn’t understand.
‘I’m me, Alexander Cade, I won’t be a substitute for anyone else, in bed or out of it.’ They were still entwined in each other’s arms and for a fleeting moment she wished he hadn’t spoken, wished his hands and mouth had continued to do their devastating work which would have ended in only one conclusion. And then she realised where she was, who she was and the fact that she was stark naked in his arms, her nightie having obviously been discarded some time along the way without her even being aware of it.
‘Do you care for me, even a little?’ As she tried to jerk herself out of his embrace he held her still tighter. ‘Do you?’
‘Let go of me.’ How could he ask her that? What sort of woman did he think she was? That she invited this from anyone? Of course she cared for him; she— The door in her mind slammed shut. He had got under her skin, that was all. That had to be all. ‘Please, Alex, let me go.’
He held her for one long moment more and then slid his feet over the side of the bed flinging the duvet over her nakedness as he did so, his face set in a mask of tight control although she noticed, with a small dart of surprise, that his hands were shaking as he stood up and moved across to the dressing-table, resting both hands on the smooth marble surface as he bent down with head lowered and legs apart. ‘That’s that, then.’ His voice was husky and deep. ‘Now I know where I stand.’ She couldn’t reply, she was beyond speech, her mind spiralling in such a whirlwind of confusion that it was a physical pain.
As he kept his head lowered she saw his hand move out to touch something on the dressing-table top and realised with a little dart of horror that she had left his present there the day before, unable to make up her mind whether to give it to him or not, unsure of how he would react.
He picked it up, reading the little card as he did so, and then turned to look at her, his eyes remote and unfathomable. ‘Do I take it this was meant for me, or is the Alex on the top of the card someone else?’
‘Of course it was meant for you,’ she said shakily. ‘I just changed my mind, that’s all.’
‘A woman’s prerogative.’ His eyes returned to the tiny package in his hands. ‘May I?’ She nodded helplessly, her face white.
As he opened the small box and held the tiny key-ring aloft the little mirror flashed in a ray of moonlight from the window and he remained perfectly still for a moment. ‘Thank you.’ He slipped the box into his pocket. ‘I shall treasure this, whatever the motive was in buying it.’
She stared at him, mesmerised by the compelling look on his face, a composite of pain, hunger, anger and... something else she couldn’t place. He turned and walked to the door, twisting on the threshold to glance across at her again, the strangeness still visible in his tight jaw and shadowed eyes. ‘And I do know, Fabia,’ he said quietly, his voice now devoid of all emotion.
‘You know?’ she whispered in bewilderment.
‘Who caught who.’ A tiny muscle flickered for a moment in the hard jaw. ‘But how was I to know how much it would hurt?’
As the door slammed behind him she shuddered for a second at the constrained savagery with which he had closed it, and then buried her head deep in the soft pillow as hot tears flooded her eyes.
‘But how was I to know how much it would hurt?’ What did that mean—after an evening spent with Susan? This whole thing was a maze, a minefield of half-spoken suggestions and confusing innuendoes, and if she took the wrong path... She shook her head as the wet pillow stuck to her cheeks. Alex, oh, Alex... There had been something in his face as he had left that had frightened her, a tight coldness, as though he had reached a decision that was painful but irrevocable. She fell asleep as dawn touched the night sky with tentative fingers, confused, frightened and desperately alone.
CHAPTER NINE
THE next three days passed as if in a dream. The arctic weather still held the world outside in a breathtakingly beautiful icy grip but Alex didn’t suggest they visit the lake again. They went on a couple of long walks with the dogs and visited some old friends of Isabella’s, but Alex had departed from her in some unfathomable way, although he was as attentive and polite to her in private as when they were in company. He made no effort to touch her now when they were alone and even his endearments for Isabella’s benefit were restrained. If his grandmother noticed that something was amiss she didn’t mention it, although Fabia caught the bright robin eyes glancing at them more than once.
When she awoke on the morning of her departure she lay for some time in the big warm bed, gazing out of the window at the white lacy pattern Jack Frost had painted on the glass, unable to believe that she was going to say goodbye to Isabella and the rest of the household that day. Now the time was here she felt suddenly bereft and utterly alone, her stomach clenched in a giant knot and a feeling of something like panic sending fluttering shivers down her limbs. She wouldn’t allow herself to think of Alex, not for a minute, a second.
She had packed the night before and now, after a quick shower, she dressed slowly in trousers and a warm jumper, looping her hair into a high ponytail and wearing no make-up except for a light touch of blue on her eyelids.
As she entered the big breakfast room Alex looked up from behind his paper and just for a moment, before the heavy veil dropped down over his eyes, she thought she saw a flash of something almost like pain in the tawny gaze. ‘Good morning, Fabia.’ As the deep rich voice spoke her name it registered on her for the first time that there had been no ‘angel-face’ since the day of the party, and again she felt a loss she had no right to feel. ‘Your day of release.’ He smiled grimly. ‘All good things come to those who wait.’
He wasn’t joking and she didn’t smile, merely inclining her head towards him before going to the long sideboard and helping herself from the covered dishes of scrambled egg, mushrooms, tomatoes and fried ham and sausages. ‘What time do you want to leave?’ she asked quietly as she seated herself at the table.
‘After lunch.’ His voice was abrupt. ‘The roads aren’t too bad now we haven’t had any fresh falls of snow for a few days so we should be able to drive straight back without too much difficulty.’
She nodded slowly. He obviously wanted to get rid of her as quickly as possible now her mission was accomplished. The shaft of pain she felt almost took her breath away but as she continued eating, mechanically, the little voice of logic reassured her that it was probably the best thing. She had no place in his world so the sooner she left it the better.
‘Miss Fabia?’ Christine’s grey head peered round the breakfast room door. ‘Mrs Cade would like a word with you later if that’s all right. She’s feeling tired so she isn’t getting up today. Perhaps you’d take mid-morning coffee with her about eleven?’
‘Of course.’ Fabia looked at the elderly companion in concern. ‘Is she well, Christine? I mean, she’s not—?’
‘I think all the excitement of the last few days has worn her out,’ Alex said quietly. ‘She would insist on having a grand sort of Christmas despite all advice to the contrary, almost as if she senses...’ His voice trailed away and he rose from the table stony faced. ‘She’s just tired, Fabia, that’s all. She is eighty-seven, after all.’
She wanted to offer some word of comfort to him as he strode from the room but there was nothing she could say. His grandmother was an old, old lady with a weak heart and she knew her imminent death would hit him hard. She had been mother and father to him all his life, after all. Maybe it was his anxiety for Isabella that had turned him into this cold, reserved stranger with his carefully polite voice and distant smiles? Or maybe he’s just fed up with me, she thought miserably. Their relationship had hardly been a sm
ooth one, after all.
The big grandfather clock in the hall was chiming eleven as she knocked on Isabella’s door later that morning. As before, the tiny woman seemed lost in the huge bed, but Fabia was relieved to see that she was as bright-eyed as usual, with vocal cords intact.
‘Come and sit by me, child, don’t dither!’ Fabia joined her by the bed with a wry smile twisting her lips. It would take more than exhaustion to quell Isabella’s sharp tongue. ‘Now, you’re leaving after lunch, so Alexander tells me?’ Fabia nodded slowly.
‘I’d like to thank you for such a lovely holiday,’ she began politely, but Isabella’s lined face pulled itself into an irritated grimace and she waved a hand in front of Fabia’s face, bidding her silence.
‘Be quiet, girl. I want to have a little talk with you and we haven’t got much time. I can never be alone in this house for long, always someone coming to bother me.’ She glanced up at Fabia, her black eyes piercing under the shock of snow-white hair. ‘Now, then, I like you, Fabia Grant, I like you very much.’
‘Thank you.’ Fabia stared at her in surprise.
‘And because I like you I am going to say things which you may think impertinent, but then I’m an old lady, so...’ She shrugged graphically with the twist of her shoulders that was pure Latin.
‘I don’t usually care for the women my grandson attracts,’ she said blandly as Fabia stared at her wide-eyed. ‘There have been one or two who have been...acceptable, but not what I would choose for him, not at all.’ Fabia flushed scarlet, her cheeks burning hot. ‘You, as I say, are different and he knows it. I brought him up to recognise the wheat from the chaff and I wouldn’t like to see him hurt.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Fabia stared into the lined old face in confusion.
‘I’m not saying he hasn’t sown some wild oats, mind, but then you’d hardly expect him to have reached the age of thirty-five without having had a few...encounters, would you?’ Fabia shook her head dazedly. ‘But he knows a diamond when he sees one.’ The black eyes held hers fast. ‘You understand me, child?’
‘Look, Isabella...’ Fabia paused, uncertain of how to continue. The whole point of her being here had been to give Isabella’s last days the comfort of thinking that her grandson just might have met the right girl at last, but it was all supposed to have been vague hopes and dreams. This direct confrontation was not at all what she had supposed but then, knowing Isabella as she now did, she should have known, she thought wryly!
‘You know he cares for you, girl? That he cares very deeply indeed?’ Now Fabia rose from the chair at the side of the bed with a little gesture of repudiation that was instinctive rather than tactful in the circumstances.
‘I’m sorry, Isabella, I don’t think things are quite what you think, not yet at any rate,’ she added hastily. ‘Alex—’
‘Alex is in love with you, my dear,’ the old lady said flatly.
‘Has he told you that?’ Fabia forgot to pretend as she met the old lady’s tight gaze.
‘No, not in so many words,’ Isabella admitted slowly. ‘But I’ve seen the way he looks at you, child. He’s never looked at another woman like that and besides,’ she paused reflectively, ‘it’s just the way my dear husband used to look at me.’
‘It is?’ Fabia realised her mouth was wide open and shut it with a little snap. ‘But I don’t think—’
‘This is a cosy little huddle.’ The deep voice from the doorway interrupted them seconds after a brief cursory knock. ‘Is it private or can anyone join in?’
‘See what I mean?’ Isabella said to Fabia with a resigned little shrug. ‘Never a minute to myself, visitors, visitors all day long. And then they wonder why I’m tired...?’ She looked up at her grandson as he crossed the room to stand by her side, the wealth of love in her eyes belying the harshness of her words. ‘You can both kiss me goodbye now,’ she added grandly. ‘I shall sleep directly afer lunch.’
They left the room a few minutes later with Isabella’s words ringing in Fabia’s ears, and as she ate the light lunch Mary had prepared for them in the comfort of Alex’s sitting-room she glanced at his sombre, distant face once or twice, seeking something, anything, that would indicate Isabella was right. But there was nothing in the cold, slightly cruel slanted eyes that gave her any hope and his face could have been cut in stone, such was the lack of expression on the chiselled features.
They left the house just after one, with Mary’s goodbyes ringing in her ears and the dogs’ mournful eyes when they spotted the suitcases making her more depressed than ever.
‘Isabella asked me to tell you that she would like you to visit again soon,’ Alex said suddenly after they had driven a few miles in complete silence. ‘Do you think that may be possible?’ There was a certain inflexion in his voice, a tilt to his head, that made a surge of wild hope flare briefly, only to die as quickly as cold reason inserted itself grimly into her head.
He wanted what he considered was the best for his grandmother at the moment, she told herself flatly, and he had warned her at the outset of all this that Isabella was a born matchmaker. ‘Maybe,’ she said quietly. ‘Let’s just play it by ear, shall we?’
He turned quickly to give her a flash of a smile that had some of the old warmth in it, and as he did so her heart turned over. ‘Suits me,’ he said lightly. ‘I’ll be in touch.’ That wasn’t quite what she had meant but somehow the feeling that had swamped her so fiercely had taken her breath away and she let his remark go unanswered, more shaken than she cared to admit. It’s just physical attraction, she told herself as the powerful car ate up the miles effortlessly, that’s all. He’s stirred your senses, but so what? It doesn’t mean anything.
By the time they reached the grey streets of London, filled with black watery slush and tall austere buildings grimy and grim in the dim half-light, the light, crisp white world she had left behind seemed a million miles away. This is reality, she told herself silently as Alex drove towards her flat; come down to earth, girl, before he breaks you into a hundred little pieces.
‘You’re a wonderful advertisement for the beauties of Cumbria,’ Alex said drily as they drew up outside her block of flats which looked even grubbier than normal. ‘Could you just try and pretend that you’ve enjoyed yourself, if only to ease my guilt?’ There was a dark mockery in the words that hurt her but she forced her voice to be as light as his as she replied.
‘I’ve had a lovely time, thank you, Alex, and I’m sure the guilt is only a momentary lapse. There’s no need to come up,’ she added hastily as he reached for her suitcase on the back seat, ‘it’s not heavy.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ he said mildly as he helped her out of the car and followed her into the building after locking the car doors. ‘Isabella would never forgive me if you were accosted on the last lap.’ She smiled tightly. Damn Isabella, she thought suddenly, and you and the whole caboodle!
As she opened the door and switched on the light the little flat reached out to her welcomingly, and foolishly she had to bite back the tears before turning to Alex, her hand held out in farewell. ‘Goodbye, Alex, and thank you again.’
He raised an eyebrow at the outstretched hand but took it anyway, raising it to his mouth before turning it over and gently kissing the palm in a long lingering caress. She had the urge to snatch it away but controlled it masterfully, keeping a bland smile on her face as he raised his head and looked straight into her face. ‘I’ll phone you,’ he said huskily, his eyes bright in the artificial light.
She shrugged carefully. ‘If you get time,’ she said coolly as he let go of her hand that was burning where his lips had touched. ‘I know you’re a very busy man.’
He gave her one last long unsmiling look and then stepped backwards out of the door, closing it behind him as he went, and she was alone.
* * *
The next few days limped by in a confusion of disorientated thinking, sudden flashes of sharp knife-like pain and nights of crying. She made more mistakes at work
in seven days than she had in the whole of the seven years she had worked there, couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep and began to feel she was going slowly crazy...and still Alex didn’t call.
As she left work on the Friday night, ten days after Alex had brought her home and disappeared out of her life, she found she was dreading the weekend ahead.
All this has just brought back all the old memories about Robin, she told herself for the hundredth time as she made her way through the busy London streets crowded with dour-faced commuters; it’s no more than that. Give it a few more days and you’ll be back to your old self. He’s just unsettled you, that’s all. Was he seeing Susan again? He could be with her now, this second—how would she ever know? He had obviously decided not to contact her again, anyway—that much at least was clear.
As a solitary snowflake landed on her nose she glanced up into the heavy white sky angrily. And now it was going to snow again! Even the elements seemed intent on reminding her of him at every turn. Well, she’d had enough of this! She was going to stop feeling sorry for herself, she was going to get back to being the old Fabia who was in control of her life and her destiny, and no six-foot-four Adonis with dark hair and tawny eyes was going to stop her.
As she turned the corner and saw the big sedate Bentley parked outside the flats her stomach jumped into her mouth and she came to an abrupt stop, causing several people behind her to cannon into each other like a human train. She didn’t even hear the irate man behind her growling an insult about women pedestrians; all her energies were concentrated on the big tall figure uncurling himself from the car interior, his honey-flecked eyes tight on her face across the distance separating them. Calm, now, calm, she warned herself silently as she walked towards him on legs that were suddenly wobbly.
‘Fabia.’ Her name was a caress in itself as the low rich voice reached out to her and as he reached her side he bent and deposited a swift kiss on her wet hair. The sky was full of whirling flakes of snow now and already the ground was turning a virginal white. ‘How are you?’
