Love's Only Deception

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘I never doubted it,’ she replied with certainty. ‘Maybe you’ve changed your mind?’ Her breath caught in her throat as she waited for his answer.

  ‘Not for a moment.’

  Her breath left her in a sigh. ‘That’s all I needed to know. I won’t talk to you about Jeff again—’

  ‘No!’ he shook his head. ‘He was important to you, I have no right to deny you to talk about him.’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘Maybe you could just not do it too often, eh?’ he added ruefully.

  ‘I won’t,’ she said happily, raising her face for his kiss.

  Logan drew back with a sigh, resting his forehead on hers. ‘I must have spent the worst night imaginable.’

  ‘No, I did that.’ Her fingertips gently touched his hard cheek.

  ‘God, I’m a fool,’ he groaned. ‘I think I’ve always been possessive. Maybe it comes from being an only child, but anything that’s important to me I find impossible to share.’

  Callie frowned. ‘But Jeff could never have hurt you. He—’

  ‘No more, Callie,’ he put gentle fingers over her lips. ‘It’s Christmas, we’re newly engaged, so no more arguments. This last one nearly killed me,’ he admitted raggedly.

  Such pain merited a kiss, two kisses, three kisses, so many kisses that when they slowly moved apart they were both breathless.

  Callie gazed up adoringly into Logan’s harsh features softened by love. ‘I hate to spoil the moment,’ she murmured softly. ‘But what time is your mother expecting us for lunch?’

  ‘Lord, yes!’ He straightened in his seat. ‘Thanks for reminding me.’ His gaze was caressing as he started the car. ‘The necklace looks nice, by the way.’

  ‘So do the cufflinks,’ she said shyly. It had given her intense pleasure to know that the cufflinks he wore with the light blue shirt were the ones she had bought for him.

  They were laughing together when they entered Mrs. Carrington’s house half an hour later, Callie once more secure in Logan’s love.

  But shyness overcame her at the thought of meeting her future mother-in-law. ‘Do I look all right?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘Beautiful.’

  ‘Seriously, Logan—’

  ‘Seriously, Callie,’ he teased. ‘You look beautiful. That silky thing is perfect.’

  ‘That silky thing’ happened to be a tan and brown suit that fitted smoothly over her slender figure, the high heels on her sandals adding height and giving her confidence. Her hair gleamed cleanly golden, the fringe winged back, the rest hanging straight to her shoulders.

  ‘If you’re sure?’ She was still nervous. The housekeeper who had opened the door to them was daunting to say the least, although Logan greeted her familiarly enough.

  ‘I’m sure,’ he smiled, her hand held firmly in his. ‘I can’t wait to see my mother’s face when she sees you.’

  An elderly woman rose from the chair next to the fire, her grey hair softly permed, grey eyes twinkling kindly in the linked powdered face. Mrs. Carrington was no taller than Callie, although age had given her a regal bearing, and her figure was still petite; she was wearing a ‘silky thing’ herself, in blues and greens.

  ‘Logan!’ she greeted her son with obvious warmth, receiving his kiss on the cheek with a similar gesture.

  Logan pulled Callie forward as she hung back shyly. ‘Mother, this is Callie Day—my fiancée.’

  His mother looked startled, surprised, but most of all, overjoyed. ‘Welcome to the family, my dear,’ she said warmly, kissing Callie on the cheek. ‘Goodness, this is a happy day for me,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I thought Logan would never get married!’

  His arm was possessive about Callie’s waist. ‘One look at this young lady and I was lost,’ he told his mother cheerfully.

  ‘You weren’t so pleased at the time,’ Callie teased, at once feeling at ease. There was none of the resentment from Mrs. Carrington that she had heard about in other mothers where their sons were concerned.

  ‘No,’ he gave a throaty laugh. ‘But I am now.’

  ‘This calls for champagne!’ His mother’s face glowed with excitement. ‘Logan, ring for Kath and then we can toast the two of you.’

  ‘Champagne at twelve-thirty, Mother?’ he mocked, ringing for the housekeeper.

  ‘For breakfast if we want it,’ his mother refused to be daunted. ‘Oh, Logan, you couldn’t have given me a nicer Christmas present!’

  It was the perfect opportunity for Callie to give Mrs. Carrington the roses and cut-glass vase, and she in return received a bottle of Chanel from the other woman.

  ‘I had no idea the friend Logan was bringing with him was going to be my daughter, or I would have bought you something more personal.’ The elderly woman arranged the roses in the vase while the housekeeper left to get the champagne. ‘And talking of families…’ she was looking out of the window into the driveway now.

  ‘Oh, Mother, you haven’t!’ Logan groaned, closing his eyes.

  Mrs Carrington looked flustered now. ‘It’s traditional, Logan, you know that. They always come to me for lunch on Christmas Day.’

  ‘Yes,’ he sighed his displeasure. ‘It’s the one tradition I always disliked.’

  ‘Logan, behave yourself!’ he was told sternly. ‘I know you don’t like them, and they know it too, but please just for once try to behave yourself.’

  Logan joined Callie on the sofa, scowling darkly. ‘God, I’d forgotten they’d be here,’ he muttered. ‘If I’d remembered we wouldn’t have come. Lord, they’re all I need!’ he finished disgustedly.

  Callie was no longer listening to him, her eyes widening with shock as she recognised Sir Charles and Lady Spencer, the anaemic Donald following them into the room.

  ‘This is—is your family?’ she choked.

  He nodded, still scowling. ‘My aunt, uncle, and weak-kneed cousin Donald.’

  Callie felt as if she were going to faint, paling even more as Lady Spencer instantly recognised her.

  ‘You!’ she gasped, her expression as horror-struck as Callie’s own must be.

  ‘Good God!’ Sir Charles stared at her in disbelief.

  ‘Caroline…?’ Donald frowned.

  She slowly stood up, swaying as she did so. Christmas had suddenly turned into a nightmare, one she might never come out of.

  Logan stood up too, his arm coming about her waist. ‘You’ve already met my fiancée?’ he said slowly.

  ‘Fiancée?’ Lady Spencer echoed shrilly. ‘You mean you’re going to marry this—this person?’

  His eyes became steely. ‘Yes, I am. What does it have to do with you?’

  ‘Logan!’ his mother begged pleadingly.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mother,’ he said tautly. ‘But Aunt Susan is being rude about Callie, and I—’

  ‘Caroline,’ his uncle corrected angrily. ‘Caroline Day.’

  ‘Yes,’ Logan nodded, waving Kath away as she arrived with the champagne. The woman left with a puzzled frown.

  ‘Very clever of you, my boy,’ his uncle snapped. ‘I could have sworn your lack of interest that day in my office was genuine. I had no idea you intended taking up your idea yourself.’

  Logan gave an impatient sigh. ‘What idea?’

  ‘Why, to marry Caroline and keep the shares in the family.’

  ‘No…!’ Callie moaned, pain shooting through her body. ‘Oh no, not Logan!’

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ he rasped. ‘Callie—’

  ‘Caroline,’ she corrected shrilly. ‘My name is Caroline Day, as you’ve known all the time.’ She wrenched away from him.’ ‘How could you, Logan? How could you?’ she choked, her eyes huge in her pale face.

  Logan was the person behind Donald’s desire to marry her for the shares in Spencer Plastics, just as Logan himself had set out to marry her for the same reason. She had thought a warped mind was behind the scheme, now she knew it had to be true. Everything Logan had ever said to her was a lie, every word of love had been a lie, their whole engagement was a
lie.

  She drew off the engagement ring and held it out to him, surprised at her own control. ‘I won’t be needing this any more.’ Her voice was brittle.

  Logan looked at her with dazed eyes. ‘You’re going to marry me. You said you were,’ he finished lamely.

  ‘And if your mother hadn’t invited your uncle and aunt I probably would have done,’ she said bitterly. ‘For that I thank you, Mrs Carrington,’ she looked at the elderly woman, her head held high. ‘You can have no idea what you’ve saved me from. I know you weren’t involved in this—this desception,’ her voice softened. ‘Jeff always spoke of you so lovingly.’ She now knew that Logan’s mother was the sister Jeff had admired so much, that Logan’s mother was ‘Cissy’.

  ‘Jeff?’ Logan echoed sharply. ‘You can’t mean this Jeff you’re always talking about was my Uncle Jeffrey?’

  She gave him a scornful look, her heart breaking inside at the way he had deceived her, at how he was still trying to deceive her. ‘Stop pretending, Logan,’ she said hardly. ‘I know the truth now, so you can stop the act.’

  ‘The truth? But I— You’re the woman who lived with my uncle?’ His eyes had narrowed to icy grey slits.

  ‘You know I am!’

  ‘I think it’s too bad of you, Logan, to try and get control of Spencer Plastics in this way,’ Donald reproved.

  ‘Shut up, Donald!’ his cousin rasped, running a hand through his dark hair, for once not his immaculate self.

  ‘Donald’s right,’ his aunt put in waspishly. ‘I think the way you’ve gone about this is very underhand.’

  ‘Underhand!’ Logan repeated disgustedly. ‘As I understand it, my dear cousin would have been only too happy to have achieved the same result.’

  ‘Well—yes,’ Donald flushed. ‘But at least you knew about it. It was your idea, after all.’

  ‘Yes, it was my idea,’ Logan ground out, looking at Callie with bleak eyes. ‘But I had no idea how young and beautiful Miss Day was.’

  ‘And as soon as you did you decided to marry her yourself,’ his uncle concluded. ‘Really, Logan, you could have let us in on your plans.’

  ‘And have you ruin it all?’ he scorned.

  ‘As they have now,’ Callie said dully, each word Logan uttered cutting into her like a knife. He had seemed so genuine in his love, so much in love, and it had all been a sham. How he must have laughed at her easy capitulation, her girlish adoration of him. Well, she wasn’t a girl any more, she had suddenly grown up, and if she had been determined to fight the Spencers she was ten times more determined to fight Logan.

  ‘Yes,’ he bit out, his eyes a cool grey, his jaw rigid. ‘But for whom?’ he questioned bitterly.

  Callie frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What indeed?’ he drawled insultingly.

  ‘You won’t get away with this, Logan,’ his uncle snapped. ‘I have no intention of letting you gain control of Spencers.’

  ‘Neither do I!’ Callie told him vehemently.

  Logan spoke to his uncle, but his gaze didn’t waver from Callie. ‘And why would I want Spencers? My own company is enough for me.’

  ‘Men like you never have enough!’ Callie said contemptuously.

  ‘Men like me?’ he repeated softly dangerously.

  ‘Power-hungry!’ Her mouth curled back in a sneer.

  ‘Well, really, my dear, there’s no need to resort to insults,’ Lady Spencer put in in her ultra-superior voice.

  ‘Isn’t there?’ Callie scoffed. ‘Believe me, I haven’t even started yet.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ ice seemed to drip from Logan’s voice. ‘You’re finished.’

  ‘Logan—’

  ‘Stay out of this, Mother,’ he said dismissively.

  ‘Yes, please do.’ Callie spoke gently to the bewildered woman; most of the conversation was obviously going over her head. Jeff had been right to pick her out as his favourite; Cicely Carrington was completely without guile or avarice—unlike her son, who possessed cruelty and greed in full measure. ‘I’m sorry this had to happen here,’ she said softly. ‘Jeff wouldn’t have liked to have seen you hurt.’

  ‘Jeff? You mean Jeffrey?’ Mrs. Carrington was slowly catching up with the conversation. ‘You mean my brother Jeffrey?’

  ‘Of course, Cissy,’ Sir Charles answered impatiently. ‘Haven’t you understood a word of what’s been said?’

  Although she was the elder of the two Cicely looked flustered by his brusqueness. ‘Well, not really,’ she stuttered. ‘What does Jeffrey have to do with Callie and Logan?’

  ‘Everything!’ Logan declared with feeling.

  ‘Oh, Cissy, do listen!’ Lady Spencer was abrupt with her sister-in-law. ‘Caroline is the girl who lived with Jeffrey until he died.’

  ‘And where is Caroline now?’ Cissy blinked her puzzlement.

  ‘Here,’ Callie told her quietly.

  Cicely Carrington looked at her with light grey eyes, frowning deeply. ‘But—but you can’t be!’

  ‘But I am.’

  ‘No, my dear. You see—’

  ‘Mother, I’ll fill you in on the bits you missed later,’ Logan interrupted tersely.

  ‘Does this mean that you and Callie aren’t getting married?’ Disappointment showed in her face.

  ‘Definitely not!’

  ‘I’d rather be dead!’

  The two of them had spoken at the same time, their denials equally vehement, and Logan’s mouth tightened at Callie’s answer. ‘You’re lucky you aren’t already,’ he rasped coldly.

  ‘I’m not frightened of you,’ she scorned.

  ‘Then maybe you should be.’

  The very coolness of his voice was what made her blanch. ‘I’ll go upstairs and get my things, then I’ll leave. Merry Christmas, everyone,’ Callie added cryptically, leaving the room with her head held high, waiting until she had closed the door before allowing her shoulders to slump, the tears to fall.

  This morning she had been so happy, a false happiness as it turned out, and now her world had shattered into tiny fragments, fragments she didn’t have the will or energy to even try to put back together.

  There were raised voices coming from the drawing-room now, evidence that the Spencers were still annoyed at Logan’s duplicity. He had been so clever—the apparently accidental meeting, giving up Danielle to go out with Callie as if she were special in his life, the no-touching approach that was intended, and had succeeded, in making her want him to touch her. Yes, she had fallen into the trap he set for her, had been a willing victim, and the price was a broken heart, and a lack of trust in anyone ever again.

  There was still one thing she had to verify in this situation, the final nail in the coffin, so to speak, an idea brought about by something James Seymour, of all people, had said.

  She had brought Bill’s report on Spencer Plastics with her, not really wanting to leave a private documented file like that about her flat over Christmas. There was only one thing in that report that interested her, one piece of information that would damn Logan for ever in her eyes.

  Yes, there it was, in Bill’s neat handwriting—a list of the shareholders of Spencer Plastics. Herself, Sir Charles, and Cicely Carrington, and below the latter was the name of the person who controlled her shares for her, and that name was Logan Carrington.

  She had thought Donald was ‘the nephew’ James Seymour spoke about with such dislike; now she knew it to be Logan. She hadn’t thought it could be poor Donald, he was so innocuous no one could possibly take such a dislike to him!

  ‘I’m glad you can still find something to smile about,’ snapped a contemptuous voice.

  Callie turned to face Logan, swallowing her nervousness, determined not to let him see how much he had hurt her. ‘What do you want?’ she asked rudely.

  ‘To talk.’ His mouth twisted. ‘What else?’ He came fully into the room and closed the door behind him, more threatening with every step he took towards her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

&n
bsp; CALLIE stood up, stiff with contempt. ‘I have nothing more to say to you,’ she told him haughtily.

  ‘Maybe not,’ he scorned. ‘But I have plenty to say to you.’ His icy gaze levelled on the file she still held in her hand. ‘And what would that be?’ he taunted.

  She gave a startled look. ‘This? It— Why, it— Give it back to me!’ she cried as he snatched the file away from her. ‘How dare you!’ she blazed.

  ‘Didn’t you learn anything about me, Call—Caroline?’ His voice hardened over the latter. ‘You should have learnt, even in our brief acquaintance, that I don’t suffer fools gladly.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning you’re a fool.’ He flicked slowly through the handwritten sheets in the file. ‘You’ve done your homework thoroughly, I see.’ He closed the folder with a snap and threw it down on the bed, thrusting his hand savagely into his trousers pockets. ‘But not thoroughly enough,’ he added contemptuously. ‘You would have been better sticking with Donald,’ he scorned. ‘I know he doesn’t have control of his shares yet, but it’s only a matter of time, just until Charles dies or retires—although the latter isn’t very likely,’ he derided. ‘But he would still have been a safer bet than me.’

  Callie was very pale, shaking with reaction. ‘I don’t understand what you mean.’

  ‘Like hell you don’t!’ Logan rasped. ‘But I’d never have let you take control of Spencer Plastics.’

  ‘Take control…?’

  ‘If you’d married me, I would have taken control, not the other way around!’

  ‘Oh, I know that,’ she scorned. ‘It was a very clever plan, carried out with so much more finesse—and experience—than Donald ever could.’

  Logan’s mouth twisted. ‘Don’t try turning the tables on me, Caroline. I had no idea who you were until just now—’

  ‘Don’t lie to me!’

  ‘Whereas it’s obvious you knew all there was to know from the first.’ His glance flickered pointedly over the file.

  ‘No—’

  ‘The evidence damns you, Caroline,’ he scorned harshly. ‘Your acting is superb—that degree of shyness you occasionally display was just the added touch needed to gain a man’s interest. I fell for the whole thing, the whole damned act!’