by Anne Mather
‘I know you must be mad at me,’ she exclaimed, before he could say anything. ‘When I got home an hour ago, Mrs Francis couldn’t wait to tell me you’d spent the night at the apartment, waiting for me. But—well, it was just impossible for me to get away yesterday. There was this reception yesterday evening, and Ra—I mean, the buyers—all stayed on for it.’
Reed expelled his breath levelly, and thrust his hands into the hip pockets of his trousers, wondering why he hadn’t caught the night flight to New York after all. ‘You enjoyed yourself, I gather.’
‘Oh, tremendously!’ Celia declared fervently. ‘It was great fun! I don’t know why I’ve never gone before.’
Reed nodded. ‘Well—good.’
Celia sighed. ‘And what about you?’ she asked, contritely, slipping her hand through his arm and pressing herself against him. ‘I suppose you’ve had a rotten weekend! Did you go to Stonor? But, of course you must have done.’
‘Yes.’ Reed detached himself without haste, and walked casually over to the drinks tray. ‘Do you want a Martini?’
‘Pernod, darling, please,’ said Celia, subsiding on to a sofa. ‘That’s what I’ve been drinking all weekend. Lots and lots of Pernod!’
Reed poured himself a scotch, and than handed Celia her drink. ‘A votre santé!’ she toasted him smilingly, lifting her glass, and Reed made some suitable comment before raising his glass to his lips.
Seating himself on the sofa opposite, he made a concerted effort to think of something relevant to say. But the headache he had had earlier in the day had returned to throb at his temples, and it was incredibly difficult to be civil to Celia when his mind was occupied elsewhere.
‘So,’ she said encouragingly at last, ‘what sort of a weekend did you have?’
‘Oh—fine.’ Reed’s cheeks hollowed. ‘A rural one.’
‘And you spent last night at the apartment,’ Celia remarked, returning to her original theme. ‘I’d have phoned if I’d known where you were. But I rang Stonor and I rang here, and as you weren’t at either …’ She shrugged. ‘I forgot Liz was spending the weekend at her mother’s.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Reed wondered how he would have explained the fact of his not answering the phone if Celia had rung her apartment. God, he thought angrily, he should be feeling one hell of a heel, instead of tearing himself to pieces over a woman who didn’t seem to care if she never saw him again!
‘Is something wrong?’ Not noticeably perceptive, Celia had nevertheless observed the signs of strain in Reed’s face, and leaving her seat, she joined him on the sofa where he was sitting. Putting an arm around his shoulders, she rested her cheek against his sleeve, and murmured softly: ‘Honestly, I’m sorry about last night. But—well, you might as well know, there was this gorgeous Frenchman, who seemed to find me quite irresistible! I was flattered. I admit it. And that’s really why I stayed on. Oh—it was nothing serious. Just a—flirtation. His name was Raoul, and I let him take me to dinner. But that’s all.’
Reed turned his head to look at her. ‘Were you attracted to him?’ he enquired tensely, and Celia shrugged.
‘I suppose so.’
‘How attracted?’
‘Darling, not as attracted as I am to you,’ she assured him firmly. ‘It was just a—a weekend’s flirtation. I told you. You don’t have to worry. I wasn’t unfaithful, or anything like that.’
Stifling an oath, Reed got to his feet, and swallowing the remainder of his drink, he went to pour himself another. The appalling truth was, he had wanted Celia to tell him she had been unfaithful. Maybe then, he could have excused his own selfish behaviour. With the knowledge that what he was doing was not so outrageous, he might have come to terms with it. As it was, his attraction to Antonia continued to torment him, like an uncontrollable fever in his blood.
‘Reed—darling—’ Celia was behind him suddenly, sliding her arms around his waist, pressing her face into the hollow of his back. ‘You’re not jealous, are you? You know you have no need to be.’
‘I am not jealous!’ Reed said the words between his teeth, wishing with an urgency that bordered on desperation that he were. ‘Celia, please,’ he exclaimed, extricating himself from her hands. ‘Look—I’ve got to tell you, I’m leaving for New York in the morning. I’m sorry, but it’s unavoidable. I don’t know when I’ll be back.’
‘New York!’ Celia gazed at him petulantly. ‘You’re not serious! You know it’s Daddy’s birthday on Wednesday. What about the dinner party? You promised you’d come!’
‘I’m sorry.’ This exchange was not going at all well$$, and Reed knew he was to blame. ‘Something’s come up, quite unexpectedly. And I’ve got to go myself. I promised my father I would.’
‘And of course a promise to your father is more important than a promise to mine,’ declared Celia sulkily.
‘Cee, it’s only your father’s birthday. This is important!’
‘My father’s birthday is important,’ retorted Celia sniffing. ‘For heaven’s sake, why can’t you send someone else? Mark Hammond, perhaps. Or Lucas Turner. You always said you could delegate.’
‘Not in this instance,’ replied Reed flatly. ‘I’ve got to attend a meeting of financiers. It’s not something I can delegate.’ He paused, and then said quietly: ‘You can come with me, if you like.’
‘No, thank you.’ Celia shook her head. ‘I don’t like New York at the best of times, and I have no intention of disappointing Daddy.’
‘Of course.’ Reed inclined his head, despising the relief that had enveloped him at her words. If he had thought she might have accepted, he would not have made the offer, he realised disgustedly. Dear God, what had Antonia done to him? Why couldn’t he put her out of his head?
‘Oh, well—’ Celia, as if sensing his uncertain mood, gave a characteristic sigh. ‘There’s no point in getting angry, I suppose. You have your work, and I have mine.’ She took a breath, and then continued carefully: ‘So—you won’t object if I don’t stay the night, will you? I am—rather tired. It’s been a hectic weekend.’
Reed, who had been trying to find a reason to make the same excuse, breathed a little more freely. ‘I think that’s a good idea,’ he averred swiftly. ‘I’ve got to leave for the airport early in the morning, and you wouldn’t want to eat breakfast alone, would you?’
Celia hesitated, his abrupt acceptance of what had been a tentative suggestion evidently not meeting with her approval. ‘I—can stay, if you want me to,’ she ventured, but Reed was already lifting her coat from its resting place.
‘Not tonight, Cee,’ he said evenly, as she rose reluctantly to her feet. ‘I’ll ring you from New York tomorrow. By the time I get back, maybe we’ll both have more time for one another.’
CHAPTER NINE
BY Friday, Antonia’s nerves were in a terrible state.
It had been a nervewracking week, not helped by the knowledge that once again she had allowed a man to make a fool of her. She must have been crazy to allow Reed to spend the night at the flat, she told herself fiercely. Crazier still, to go to bed with him without taking any precautions to protect herself. What if she became pregnant again? she thought desperately. What if history was about to repeat itself? There was no possible chance that Reed would feel responsible for her. He had got what he wanted, and she doubted she would ever seé him again.
It was all so stupid, so ludicrous! She had suspected what manner of man he was when he started pursuing her, but instead of sticking to her guns and keeping him at arm’s length, she had allowed him to get under her skin. He had used every trick in the book to persuade her—his beautiful apartment, the house at Stonor’s End; he had even pretended he cared about her daughter, when all he had really wanted to do was sleep with her. And how he had; and it was over; and she didn’t know how she was going to cope with it.
She had thought, at first, that that was what she wanted. When Tuesday and Wednesday went by and he didn’t ring, she had managed to convince herself that s
he was glad it was over. Their relationship had never had any future, she had known that, and in spite of the bitterness his betrayal aroused, she had half-believed she was unscathed by the experience.
But when Thursday came, and then Friday, and she was forced to face the fact that their brief affair really was over, the whole weight of what it meant to her enveloped her like a shroud. It was no use pretending to herself any longer. She was not—she had never been—the kind of girl who slept around. With Simon, it could be excused as a youthful indiscretion, an indiscretion she had paid for with the destruction of her career. With Reed, there were no excuses of that kind. She was a woman now, not a child, and she could not console herself with childish vindications. She knew why she had let Reed stay at the flat; she knew why she had made love with him. It was very simple: she had fallen in love with him. In spite of herself, she had fallen under his spell, and no amount of self-condemnation would make it otherwise.
Of course, it was crazy. Even without his so-suitable fiancée, he was not the kind of man to get seriously involved with someone like her. The gulf between them was too wide, both financially and socially. She had been a diversion, that’s all. Something he had wanted, and got. And the guilt she had felt about Celia, and which was now absolved, was no compensation for the rawness his abandonment had created.
‘You don’t seem well,’ said Mr Fenwick, on Friday afternoon, coming into Antonia’s office as she was clearing her desk. ‘Are you going north this weekend? If not, my recommendation is that you take it easy over the next couple of days.’
Antonia’s smile was thin. ‘I’m—not—going north this weekend,’ she assured him quietly. ‘And I shall probably take your advice. I am feeling a bit—under the weather.’
‘I knew it.’ Mr Fenwick seemed pleased with his diagnosis. ‘I said to Heather on Wednesday that you seemed out of sorts.’
‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ said Antonia, sliding her blotter into a drawer. ‘I—if that’s all for today, I’ll go now. I’ve got some shopping to do on my way home.’
‘Of course, of course.’
Mr Fenwick stepped back politely, and Antonia slung her jacket about her shoulders. ‘See you on Monday,’ she said, striving for a bright tone, and her boss nodded understandingly as she disappeared out of the door.
The idea of buying food was not appealing to her, but realising she had to eat if she wanted to survive this present disaster, she bought some cooked ham for her dinner. A loaf of bread and some cheese completed her purchases, and deciding to leave the bulk of her shopping until the following day, she made her way to the bus-stop. She could have walked, she supposed, feeling in her pocket for some change. The truth was, she didn’t feel as if she had the energy, and she propped herself against the post, hoping she would not have to wait long.
The sleek bonnet of the Lamborghini pulling alongside her brought her up with a start, and her mouth went dry when Reed opened the window and said harshly: ‘Get in!’
With a red double-decker bus looming in the distance, and Reed parked in the space where the bus would stop, Antonia did not stop to consider her actions. Pulling open the door, she scrambled into the low vehicle, and Reed drove swiftly away without saying another word.
She thought he would take her home, but he passed the turning for Clifton Gate and drove on through Maida Vale and Kilburn. He seemed to be following the signs for the North Circular Road, she thought blankly, and then abandoned that thought when he turned into the grounds of a small hotel.
Switching off the engine, he half-turned in his seat towards her, but Antonia purposely stared straight ahead. She had no idea why he had come to find her. She could not comprehend what his motives might be. And in spite of his compulsive attraction, she refused to give in to his sexual bribery.
‘Are you hungry?’ he inquired, evidently noticing the loaf of bread sticking out of her bag, and she shrugged.
‘It—it’s just some ham and cheese, for—for my dinner,’ she replied unevenly.
‘Are you mad at me?’ he asked softly. ‘You didn’t seriously think we wouldn’t see one another again, did you?’
Antonia shook her head. ‘I don’t have to think, do I?’ she said, in a tense little voice. ‘Only—only obey.’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake!’ With a smothered oath, he moved, his hand sliding possessively beneath her hair, forcing her to look at him. ‘What do you take me for$$, you stupid little bitch?’ he demanded savagely. ‘I’ve been in New York. I just flew back this morning. I thought it would give us a breathing space, but damn it, I didn’t intend it should fuel that goddamned pride of yours!’
Antonia stared at him. ‘New York?’ she echoed faintly, and he nodded.
‘I had to attend a conference. My father arranged it all. I arrived home this morning; I took a shower, a couple of hours rest, and then I came to meet you. Unfortunately, you had left by the time I arrived.’
Antonia moistened her lips. ‘I left early—’
‘So your superior told me.’
‘You—you spoke to Mr Fenwick?’ Antonia was appalled.
‘An old guy with a weight problem?’ Reed’s fingers gentled at her nape, and his eyes softened. ‘Hell—have I missed you!’
Antonia drew back. ‘Reed—’
‘Shut up, will you?’ he muttered, without aggression, and before she could protest, his mouth had covered hers.
The console was an irresistible barrier between them, and Reed swore again when she succeeded in using it to her advantage. ‘Wh-what excuse did you give Celia for leaving your car outside Eaton Lodge all night?’ she got out huskily, deliberately raising his fiancée’s name between them, and Reed regarded her broodingly before flinging himself back in his seat.
‘I didn’t have to give her an excuse,’ he retorted harshly. ‘She didn’t arrive back from Paris until Monday, and Mrs Francis assumed I had spent the night in the apartment upstairs.’
‘I see.’ Antonia swallowed. ‘How convenient!’
‘Yes. Wasn’t it?’ Reed’s nostrils flared. ‘I’m lucky that way.’
‘So—where are you going now?’ Antonia enquired carefully. ‘To—to see Celia?’
Reed expelled his breath wearily. ‘Is that likely?’ he demanded. ‘As a matter of fact, Cee doesn’t even know I’m back in the country. So far as she’s concerned, I’m still in the big apple! Does that satisfy you?’
Antonia bent her head. ‘So where are you going?’
‘I thought—I really thought—we might be driving north,’ declared Reed quietly. ‘But as you’re buying ham and cheese for your evening meal, I guess you haven’t any plans for that.’
Antonia gasped. ‘You really expected to go to Newcastle?’
‘To meet Susie? Yes, why not?’
‘After—after what happened?’
‘Particularly after what happened,’ he retorted roughly. ‘Oh, Toni—’ it was the first time he had abbreviated her name, except when he was making love to her, and her senses tingled; ‘—I don’t want to forget what happened!’ He gazed at her intently, his eyes sensually brilliant. ‘I want to do it again! Over and over. Until you can’t think or feel or taste anyone else but me!’
‘You’re crazy—’
‘About you? Yes, I am,’ he conceded emotively. ‘Let’s go to Newcastle, Antonia. Let’s spend the weekend together, at least. Hell, I’ll even promise to be good, if you’ll just stop fighting me!’
Antonia bent her head. ‘We can’t—’
‘Why can’t we?’
‘I haven’t packed, and we can’t go to the flat—’
‘Buy a toothbrush,’ declared Reed reasonably. ‘What else?’
‘I haven’t told my mother.’
‘Phone her.’
‘Wh-what can I say?’
‘Tell her a friend has offered to drive you up for the weekend, and you don’t want to refuse.’
Aware that she was allowing him to railroad her again, Antonia shook her head. ‘I can�
�t.’
‘Why the hell not?’
Antonia gulped. ‘Because you don’t care, do you? You don’t care about anyone but yourself. So long as you get your own way, you don’t give a damn!’
Reed hunched his shoulders, and for several moments there was silence in the car. Then, flatly, he conceded her accusation: ‘No,’ he said, flexing his neck muscles with weary impatience. ‘No, you’re right. I’m completely amoral.’ He reached for the ignition. ‘I’ll take you home. I can always tell Cee I gave you a lift from the bus-stop.’
Antonia, who had been expecting another argument, felt her stomach plunge as he spoke. His careless acknowledgment of her words left her with a distinctly hollow feeling inside her, and although she knew if she remained silent he would do as he had promised, her treacherous emotions refused to let it go.
‘It’s easy for you, isn’t it?’ she choked bitterly, as the engine sprang to life. ‘Off with a mistress, and on with a fiancée! Either way, you can’t lose!’
‘Is that what you think?’ His lips twisted as he looked at her.
‘It’s the truth! You—you satisfy your—your carnal desires with—with one or other of us, don’t you?’
Reed swore then, an ugly word that Antonia could not mistake, and the engine died as he grasped her face between his hands. ‘Do you really want to know the truth?’ he snarled, and she trembled at the anger in his expression. ‘The truth is—I haven’t been able to touch Cee since that night I took you to the apartment! You say it’s easy for me—well, believe me, it’s not!’ His incensed breath filled her mouth and she tried to look away from him, but he would not let her. ‘Let me tell you,’ he went on grimly, ‘I didn’t intend to get involved with you. God help me, I thought I felt sorry for you! I fooled myself into thinking we could be friends! Friends!’ He groaned. ‘Friends don’t fill your mind to the exclusion of everything—and everyone—else! Friends don’t keep you awake half the night, with the kind of ache I haven’t had since I was a schoolboy!’ His eyes darkened. ‘It dawned on me by degrees, that what I really wanted to do was make love with you, and that’s a complication I could have done without!’
