Love's Only Deception

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘If anyone was acting it was you!’

  ‘Give up, Caroline,’ he sneered. ‘The charade is over. I wouldn’t marry you now if you gave me half your shares to do it.’

  ‘And that I’ll never do!’ Her eyes blazed.

  ‘Then it will have to be Donald after all. Don’t worry,’ he mocked harshly, ‘he’ll still be willing—Mummy and Daddy will make sure of that. Of course it’s more long-term than marrying me would have been, but you would eventually have control. Donald certainly isn’t strong enough to stop you.’

  Callie stood up, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. ‘Why are you twisting everything? Why try and make it look as if I’m the one who tried to trick you, when all the time you know you took over from Donald when you saw he wasn’t going to succeed?’

  ‘I didn’t take over anything from my simpering cousin—’

  ‘Of course you didn’t,’ she recalled bitterly. ‘It was your idea in the first place, wasn’t it?’

  ‘What was?’ Logan frowned.

  ‘To marry me and—’

  ‘If you say I wanted control of Spencer Plastics just once more I swear I’ll hit you!’ he ground out furiously.

  ‘Hit away,’ she challenged. ‘It won’t change the facts.’

  ‘The facts as you’re twisting them. Just tell me one thing, would making love to you have been part of the plan too if I hadn’t said no?’

  Callie swallowed hard, her cheeks colouring bright red. ‘As you’ve just said, you were the one who said no,’ she muttered, too embarrassed to look up.

  ‘And that denial made you want me, didn’t it?’ he scorned.

  ‘No—’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he gave a taunting smile. ‘The rest of it may have been an act, your words of love a lie, but your response to me is genuine.’

  Callie turned away. ‘That’s a lie! Having you touch me makes my skin crawl,’ she told him with more vehemence than truth.

  ‘Does it?’ he scoffed, coming forward with determined strides. ‘We’ll just put that to the test, shall we?’

  Her eyes were wide with fear as he pulled her hard against him. ‘No!’ She pummelled her fists on his shoulders and chest as he lowered his head to grind his mouth down on hers.

  The contempt he felt for her was a tangible thing, and not for a second did she respond. Then his savagery turned to subtle seduction, his mouth tasting hers, his hands caressing her back and waist, leaving her trembling and wanting more by the time he drew back.

  His eyes were like chips of ice as he looked down at her, thrusting her completely out of his arms as she would have leant weakly against him. ‘Is your skin crawling now?’ he taunted.

  ‘I—’

  ‘Don’t attempt to lie again, Caroline. You may not want to, but you like what I do to you.’

  She licked her lips nervously, knowing it would be useless to deny it. ‘So?’ she challenged.

  ‘So did you like it when my uncle touched you too?’

  She stiffened. ‘Jeff?’

  ‘Yes—Jeff,’ he drawled. ‘Quite a philosopher, my uncle.’

  She flushed. ‘He was worth ten of you!’

  ‘So you did like it when he touched you,’ Logan rasped.

  ‘I don’t understand—’

  ‘How long did you live with him?’

  ‘About four years. But I knew him for a couple of years before that.’

  ‘That would make you sixteen when you met?’

  ‘About that, I suppose,’ she nodded, frowning.

  ‘My God!’

  Callie still frowned her puzzlement. ‘What does my age have to do with anything?’

  ‘Not a lot. I just had no idea that that twenty-two-year-old façade hid a woman of forty!’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Never mind,’ he dismissed angrily. ‘Didn’t it bother you that my uncle was twenty-three years older than you?’

  ‘Bother me?’ she queried.

  ‘Obviously not,’ he rasped. ‘And to think I imagined myself a good judge of character,’ he added disgustedly.

  Callie flinched as if he had hit her, knowing that the insult was meant for her—even though she had no idea why he had said it! In fact, half of this conversation was a puzzle to her.

  ‘This time you weren’t so clever, were you?’ she snapped.

  ‘No. And for once I have something to thank Charles for, although he doesn’t realise it.’

  ‘Because he knows the truth,’ Callie said angrily. ‘He knows you were the one who thought of marrying me to get those shares, that you were the one who decided to carry out that plan.’

  Logan took a threatening step towards her, his expression savage. ‘I warned you—’

  ‘That you’d hit me?’ she faced him fearlessly. ‘Well, go ahead! But it won’t do anything but increase my contempt for you.’

  ‘Your contempt for me?’ he echoed scathingly. ‘And what about my contempt for you? God, I thought you were too young for me, but the thought of you with my uncle—It sickens me!’

  Callie gasped. ‘Jeff and I—?’

  ‘Yes!’ Logan snapped. ‘Was it worth it, Call—Caroline? Did you enjoy being the mistress of a man old enough to be your father? Did you like it when he made love to you?’

  She had gone a sickly grey colour, her breathing constricted in her throat. ‘I— You think that Jeff and I—’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think it—I know it. The whole family knew he’d been living with someone for the last four years.’

  ‘Obviously none of you were interested enough to find out who with,’ she said dully.

  ‘I hadn’t seen him since I was ten or eleven!’

  ‘Maybe if you had, if you’d ever spoken to him, you wouldn’t be such an arrogant bastard,’ she gritted with dislike. ‘I didn’t live with your uncle—’

  ‘You’ve already admitted that you did!’

  ‘But not in the way you mean—’

  ‘What other way is there?’ he derided. ‘Either you did live with him or you didn’t.’

  ‘I did. But—’

  ‘But you didn’t sleep together? Spare me that, Caroline—’

  ‘My name is Callie,’ she told him vehemently. ‘It’s always been Callie.’

  ‘Except on an official basis then you’re Caroline, like in a will.’ He shook his head. ‘Over the years, mainly because of my own experience with them, I’ve learnt not to trust women—any woman. But my uncle was certainly fooled by you. Was he very naïve, or just not very bright where you’re concerned?’

  The colour came and went in Callie’s hollow cheeks. ‘About as bright as you, I would have said,’ she scorned, to hide her pain. Later she could allow herself to feel every stab wound Logan had given her. Now, at this moment, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how he had misjudged her—and his uncle. He could go on thinking these terrible things about Jeff and herself. Her love for him had died the moment she knew he was only using her, that his love meant nothing.

  ‘Yes,’ he rasped. ‘But then I knew about you all the time, didn’t I?’

  ‘Oh yes!’

  ‘Then I don’t think there’s any more to be said,’ he told her distantly. ‘I’m glad to say you haven’t succeeded in your plan.’

  ‘Haven’t I?’ she taunted coldly. ‘As you said, there’s always Donald. You and your uncle don’t seem—on the best of terms,’ she added mockingly.

  ‘So?’

  ‘I’m sure he would rather keep the shares in the family—his family.’

  ‘You little—!’ Logan thrust her away from him.

  ‘God, you sicken me!’

  ‘No more than you sicken me,’ Callie said bitterly. ‘So we’re both agreed that we’ve had a lucky escape.’

  ‘Without doubt.’

  ‘Then let’s just leave it at that, shall we?’ She collected her bags together.

  ‘Leave it?’ he taunted grimly. ‘Oh no, we won’t leave it. But the next time we meet will be a
cross a boardroom table. And believe me, you won’t have things your own way then.’

  ‘I never thought it for a moment.’ Although that had been when she thought she just had Sir Charles to contend with, Logan was a much more formidable opponent.

  And she was determined to fight now, she wouldn’t let Jeff’s memory be tainted in any way. Logan had told her exactly what the family believed about them, and that shocked her more than anything she had heard here today. Jeff had been of their flesh and blood, didn’t they know him well enough to realise that he would never ever have contemplated the relationship they thought him guilty of? One day she would take great pleasure in telling them the truth, but not yet, not until they had known her full contempt.

  ‘As long as you realise that,’ Logan nodded arrogantly, and left the room as softly as he had entered it.

  Callie was too numb to cry, too hurt, too bewildered—too damned mad! The arrogance of that family, to think they could say those things about Jeff and get away with it. For herself she was past caring, but for Jeff and—

  ‘Caroline?’ Donald Spencer hesitated in the doorway, his expression uncertain. ‘Is it all right if I come in?’

  ‘Why not?’ she scorned, checking she had her handbag and case. ‘I was just leaving anyway.’

  ‘Ah. Well, I—I was wondering if you would like me to drive you home?’

  His nervous eagerness jarred her nerves, but what he had just said reminded her of the fact that she had come here with Logan, that she no longer had transport home. ‘You’ve only just arrived,’ she pointed out stiffly.

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘But it’s Christmas Day.’

  ‘All the more reason for me to drive you home, there won’t be any public transport today, and I doubt you’d get a taxi either.’

  He was probably right, and yet she was loath to accept anything from this family; she disliked every member of it, with the possible exception of Cicely Carrington, who probably still hadn’t caught up fully with the conversation. And yet what a triumph to leave with Logan’s cousin, to show him that after all there was still Donald.

  ‘Caroline?’ he prompted hopefully.

  ‘All right,’ she accepted briskly. ‘As long as we can leave now.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course. Straight away.’ He took the small suitcase out of her hand. ‘Of course,’ he repeated excitedly.

  Callie walked down the stairs with her head held high, Donald trailing dog-like behind her, almost dropping her overnight case in his hurry to rush forward and open the huge double doors to the drawing-room.

  ‘Thank you,’ she nodded distantly, her eyes cold as her gaze passed slowly over every person in the room.

  Cicely Carrington still looked totally confused, Lady Spencer looked irritated, Sir Charles looked glowering, and she looked lastly at Logan, meeting his open contempt with equal scorn. Not an hour ago she had thought him the most wonderful man in the world, had wanted to spend her whole life with him, and now she hated him with such a vengeance she would do anything she could to hurt him.

  Lady Spencer’s expression brightened as she saw Callie’s case in her son’s hand. ‘You’re leaving now, then?’ she said in her aristocratic voice.

  Callie’s mouth twisted. ‘Yes, I’m leaving. Donald has kindly offered to drive me.’

  ‘Anyone care for a drink?’ Logan cut in tautly, making straight for the drinks cabinet as no one answered him.

  Callie watched with cold eyes as he poured himself a large glass of whisky, drinking it down in one gulp before refilling the glass.

  ‘Isn’t it a little early for that, Logan?’ his mother frowned at him.

  ‘A moment ago you were going to toast my engagement,’ he reminded her grimly.

  ‘But that was with champagne!’

  ‘And now I prefer whisky,’ he refilled the glass once again, seeming to feel nothing as he drank the fiery liquid straight down. ‘I thought you said you were going, Miss Day,’ he said rudely.

  Callie flushed. ‘I am. I just wanted to thank your mother—’

  ‘Take it as said,’ he rasped.

  ‘Logan!’ his mother gasped. ‘I’ve never seen you behave like this before—’

  ‘I’d never met Caroline before,’ he scorned. ‘You have to hand it to her, Mother, she’s beautiful enough to drive a man to drink—or suicide.’ His eyes darkened. ‘I suppose Uncle Jeffrey’s death was an accident? You hadn’t found yourself a younger man, had you, Caroline?’

  A red tide of anger passed over her eyes, and when it cleared four shocked faces and Logan’s furious one, the red marks where her fingers had made contact with his face showing up clearly against his otherwise pale skin.

  ‘You’ll regret you ever did that,’ he told her through gritted teeth.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said coldly, her hand stinging from the force of the slap. ‘Ready, Donald?’

  ‘Er—yes.’ He eyed his cousin warily.

  Logan’s expression was contemptuous. ‘She’ll eat you for breakfast,’ he sneered.

  ‘Well, at least he might be asked to stay for breakfast!’ Callie had the satisfaction of seeing Logan pale even more, a pulse working erratically at his jaw. ‘I’ll be seeing you again soon, Logan.’

  ‘You certainly will,’ he acknowledged tautly.

  She was shaking by the time Donald helped her into the passenger seat of the Jaguar, adjusting the seat-belt for her before moving round to get in behind the wheel.

  She stared straight ahead for most of the journey, too sickened by what had happened to want to talk to anyone, least of all the insipid Donald. For once he seemed to know how she felt, and wisely remained silent—although it couldn’t last for long.

  ‘I do think it was very bad of Logan,’ he said when he finally couldn’t contain himself any longer.

  She looked at him with dull eyes, no joyous gold flecks in their depths. ‘What was?’

  ‘Well, tricking you in that way—’

  ‘Wasn’t it what you intended yourself?’

  Donald flushed. ‘Certainly not!’

  She sighed. ‘Too much has been said to lie now. You even admitted it earlier.’

  ‘Well—yes.’

  ‘Thank you. And in future I would prefer equal honesty.’ She rubbed her temples wearily. ‘There doesn’t seem to have been much of that lately.’

  ‘I say, Caroline,’ he turned to frown at her, ‘has Logan really hurt you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ She straightened her shoulders. ‘It was just a game—a game we both lost.’

  ‘You don’t have to lose,’ he pointed out tentatively. ‘There’s still me.’

  ‘Is there?’ she said dully.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he nodded his eagerness.

  Callie shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, Donald. Spencer Plastics is just going to have to take its chances between the three of us.’

  Donald chewed on his bottom lip. ‘My father isn’t going to be very happy about that.’

  She only just bit back her bitterness, not giving a damn about Sir Charles’ happiness. ‘Why?’ she queried calmly.

  ‘He wants to expand Spencer Plastics,’ Donald confided.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Logan doesn’t.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Donald eyed her curiously. ‘He doesn’t usually stand out against my father, but this time he has. How would you feel about the expansion?’

  The need to hit out at Logan was strong, and yet she didn’t know enough about the facts to hit out in this way. ‘I’d need to know more about it before I passed any comment either way,’ she answered evasively.

  ‘I’m sure my father would be only too happy to explain to you.’

  ‘Some other time, Donald,’ she dismissed sharply.

  ‘Maybe after the holidays?’

  ‘Maybe,’ she agreed noncommittally.

  She heaved an inward sigh of relief as they turned into the road she lived in. London was curiously deserted on this overcas
t Christmas Day. It had to be the one day in the year when even England’s capital ground to a halt.

  ‘Thank you, Donald.’ She hastily opened her door and got out on to the pavement, the bitter-cold wind cutting into her.

  He took her small case out of the boot. ‘Like me to come up with you?’

  ‘No! Er—no, thanks, Donald,’ she erased the sharpness from her voice. ‘Please go back and have your lunch.’

  ‘I’d rather stay with you.’

  She could believe he meant that. Christmas in the Carrington household didn’t look like being much fun. ‘Your aunt is expecting you, Donald,’ she insisted. ‘Call me after the holidays, will you?’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  She nodded dismissively, hurrying up to her flat. It all looked exactly as she had left it—the bright gaiety of the decorations and Christmas tree, her opened presents beneath the latter, the nightgown and négligé Logan had bought her lying mockingly in the box.

  The first thing she did was pack up all the presents Logan had given her, including the necklace she had forgotten to return to him earlier. Everything would go back to him, she didn’t want anything he had given her.

  She lived the next few days in a haze, going to bed, getting up in the morning, switching on the television and dully watching the antics of celebrities who seemed to be perfectly normal the rest of the year.

  She forgot all about eating, so that by the time Christmas was at last over she was pale and listless. She went into Jeff’s studio a lot, the place where she felt closest to him. This studio had always been sacrosanct when Jeff was alive. It was very full at the moment, as he had been preparing for another exhibition, one guaranteed to be even more successful than the last.

  Jeff didn’t just make likenesses in clay, he made his subjects come alive; he had a rare sensitivity that incorporated a person’s personality into the sculpture and not just a physical outline.

  The one Callie loved the most stood in pride of position beside his work-table, set there to give Jeff encouragement in times of lack of inspiration. And as he had been a true artist, a genius, there were all too many of them.

  The subject was a woman, the whole figure no more than two feet long, the form of a sheet draped over the lower half of the body, the waist slender, the breasts full and uptilting, the neck slender, the face so beautiful, so without pain or suffering, that just to look at it made Callie want to cry.