Conflict Of Hearts

by Liz Fielding

  ‘Oh, no, Elizabeth. You did it for you.’ He turned abruptly, and stabbed at her with an accusing finger. ‘To get back in Daddy’s good books. It must have been quite a shock to discover that you were about to have serious competition for his attention.’ His hand dropped to his side. ‘It’s something of a relief, to be honest, to know that I needn’t feel so sickeningly guilty—’

  ‘Guilty?’ She was beginning to be utterly confused. ‘Noah, please don’t have any more brandy.’ She moved swiftly to the door. ‘I’ll make some coffee.’

  He caught her arm, detaining her. ‘I don’t want any coffee. Besides, you haven’t heard the best part yet.’

  ‘Best part?’ Her heart sank. It was going to get worse and she didn’t think she could bear it.

  ‘Did you know that Peter is thinking of transferring to England? He’s apparently been offered a move to London, with a promotion.’

  Lizzie shook off his hand and subsided wearily onto the sofa. ‘He wouldn’t...’

  ‘He was a little concerned that Fran might have to give up her job if he took it. That’s very touching, don’t you think?’ He lowered himself beside her, his legs stretching out seemingly endlessly in front of him, the warmth of his arm brushing against her shoulder. She shifted nervously away. ‘Unless, of course, he thought it would be the perfect excuse to put the width of the Atlantic between them?’

  ‘It wouldn’t make any difference to me.’

  He gave a hollow imitation of laughter. ‘Do you know, I actually suggested that if he stayed here it wouldn’t be very kind—?’ Lizzie’s hands flew to her mouth. ‘Yes. Quite a joke. Fortunately he interrupted before I made a complete fool of myself. He thought I was going to say that it wouldn’t be very kind to Fran.’

  She let out a soft breath of sheer relief that after all she had been through Noah hadn’t actually let the cat out of the bag. ‘What did he say?’ she demanded.

  ‘He cares for you very deeply. He wanted some assurance that I wouldn’t hurt you.’ He grimaced. ‘He apparently doubts my fibre as husband material. It took considerable self-control to allow myself to be lectured on my good fortune...’ He turned to her. ‘On your innocence...’ Lizzie paled. She tried to say something, but her mouth seemed glued together. ‘I believe I was able to reassure him that my intentions were entirely honourable.’

  ‘That’s... all right, then.’

  ‘I’m glad you agree. Peter Hallam is a very mixed-up young man. He needs time to sort himself out.’

  Lizzie nodded wearily. ‘Fran had a miscarriage just after their somewhat precipitate marriage. He blamed her...’ Anger flickered briefly across Noah’s face before it was shuttered against her. She shivered a little, as if someone had walked over her grave. ‘Hopefully this time everything will be all right. But she hasn’t told him yet... You can see why..:

  ‘Yes, I can see. But after this evening I imagine he will have worked it out for himself.’ His mouth twisted in a mockery of a smile. ‘Unless he’s quite stupid.’

  ‘He’s not—’ Lizzie stopped. Defending Peter was no longer her concern.

  ‘Perhaps I’m being unkind. He’s certainly no more stupid than I’ve been. There’s a certain irony in the situation, don’t you think?’

  She hadn’t noticed him move, yet somehow he seemed threateningly closer. ‘I...don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I think you do. I thought I was in control—forcing you to marry me to protect Fran.’

  ‘Giving up your precious freedom—the most noble sacrifice. Especially for a girl who was a virtual stranger.’

  ‘Sacrifice.’ He tested the word. ‘Yes. I suppose that describes the situation. But apparently it wasn’t my sacrifice. It was all yours.’ Lizzie edged nervously towards the end of the sofa. ‘You had your escape all planned. Then he begged you to go away with him. You married me as a last resort, to convince Peter that you weren’t interested in him. Very noble.’

  ‘Noble? Me?’ But her biting sarcasm was lost as her voice trembled beneath his probing eyes and she gave a shaky laugh. ‘You’re a much better catch, after all.’

  ‘Then why were you all packed and ready to leave, until you received a letter from him?’

  She lifted her chin a little defiantly. ‘He’d seen through your little game, you know. He was certain that we weren’t lovers.’

  ‘I wonder why?’ The edge of Noah’s voice was sharp enough to cut paper. Her eyes widened. Surely Peter hadn’t been that explicit? ‘You married me to convince Peter that you were no longer interested in him. You’ll be glad to know that it appears to have worked.’

  She was going to deny it, but suddenly it didn’t seem to matter. ‘He wasn’t thinking straight. He thought he had been trapped into marriage, cheated. He was overreacting to his disappointment about Fran’s miscarriage.’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t know if his marriage to Fran will work, but I was not going to be his excuse for running away without giving it a chance. But he wouldn’t listen.’ Her voice had begun to tremble slightly but she pressed on. ‘So I told him I was going to marry you... After all, it was what you wanted.’

  Noah came back from some vast distance inside his head and threw a sharp glance at her. ‘Just like that? You didn’t think twice?’

  Did it matter how many times she had thought about it? How she had agonised in that little café? ‘Once was more than enough. We had a common purpose at last, you and I. Six months will go quickly enough.’

  ‘I’m glad you think so. It certainly explains one thing that has been puzzling me.’

  She didn’t offer him a prompt. She didn’t want to hear what was coming next, but there was no escape.

  ‘It explains, my dear wife, why you didn’t make any attempt to stop me making love to you. You were afraid that your overreaction to the pre-marital contract had made me think twice.’

  He raised his hand and touched her lips very lightly with the tips of his fingers. Pressed hard against the corner of the sofa, she had no retreat. ‘So you decided to take out a little insurance against a change of heart. The ultimate sacrifice. I only hope you think he was worth it.’

  ‘Ultimate sacrifice?’ She knocked his hand away. ‘Isn’t that putting it rather strong? It was just sex.’

  ‘No, not quite. The first time is never...“just sex”. I apologise that I failed to realise... Not very bright of me, but then in view of the enthusiasm of your performance you can hardly blame me.’

  Performance! She rose shakily to her feet. ‘What’s the matter, Noah? Wasn’t I boringly virginal enough for you? Do you feel cheated? Perhaps you’d like a rerun, with me fighting for my honour every inch of the way? Would you think you’d had your money’s worth then?’

  There was a moment of total silence, then Lizzie took an involuntary step back, and then another as Noah, almost in slow motion, uncurled from the sofa to tower above her. But it wasn’t enough. Nowhere near enough. The world wasn’t large enough to escape the wrath that masked his face, and she backed rapidly until brought abruptly to a halt by the door, where finally her legs gave way and she crumpled helplessly to the floor.

  Then she closed her eyes, holding her head, shaking it painfully from side to side as she moaned, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...’

  He swore, a low and painful oath, before hauling her to her feet, steadying her none too gently as she rocked. Then he swung her up into his arms, holding her for just a moment, his face positively gaunt in the lamplight. She heard a voice that might have been her own, protesting feebly.

  ‘Be quiet. You’ve said more than enough.’ And he carried her up the stairs and deposited her upon the great four-poster bed. She wriggled frantically back against the carved headboard, certain that he intended to take her at her word. But he kept his distance. ‘You shouldn’t have done it.’

  She swallowed. I couldn’t help myself. It wasn’t planned, she wanted to say. The words wouldn’t come. She remembered too vividly that moment
when she could have stopped him, but didn’t. ‘Noah...’ Then, exhausted, confused, Lizzie covered her face with her hands, unable to bear his accusing eyes a moment longer.

  He sank onto the bed beside her, pulling her hands away, refusing to let her hide from him. ‘You love him that much?’ he demanded. ‘So much that you would do anything—even marry me—rather than let him make a total mess of his life?’

  He had it wrong. All wrong. But nothing she could say would ever convince him of that. ‘I thought it was Fran’s life that was the reason for this madness, Noah. Perhaps it’s time you told me why she’s so important to you.’ He didn’t answer. ‘Are you in love with her?’

  He abruptly released her hands and turned from her, raking his fingers through his hair, staring down at the carpet. ‘Lord, what a mess.’

  That just about covered it, Lizzie thought. But she still had her pride. ‘It doesn’t matter, Noah. It doesn’t make any difference. You don’t have to fed...responsible...’ She faltered as he swung round and his eyes stabbed at her.

  ‘And if you’re pregnant?’

  That was a possibility she hadn’t dwelt upon. There was no point. Either she was or she wasn’t. Nothing could change it. ‘It won’t be your problem, Noah. I promise you.’

  ‘It isn’t in your power to absolve me of that responsibility, Elizabeth,’ he said quietly, but there was a bottomless depth to the intensity of those words. Then more gently he added, ‘I’m afraid it never occurred to me that you hadn’t got that angle covered.’

  ‘I’m sorry—’

  ‘Don’t!’ She flinched at the harshness of his voice. ‘I don’t want to hear how sorry you are.’

  ‘Noah—’ She stopped. Nothing she could say could make it better. Maybe it was better not to try.

  He stood up. ‘You’d better try and get some sleep, Elizabeth. You look terrible.’

  It was nothing to the way she felt, but she refused to let him see that each word was like a knife-cut. ‘You say the kindest things.’

  ‘I don’t feel... kind.’

  ‘I would have said that you don’t know the meaning of the word, but I’ve seen you with Fran. I’ve seen the way you treat her like a piece of the most delicate Chinese porcelain, look at her as if she’s some kind of princess. I don’t know what it is between you two—’

  ‘Don’t!’ He placed his hand over her mouth. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Then he shook his head and straightened. ‘Just try and sleep. I won’t disturb you. You have my promise.’

  But the words had a hollow ring. She was already disturbed. Deeply, dangerously disturbed.

  Lizzie woke very early, opening confused eyes to a scene that finally resolved itself into a canopy of embroidered flowers and birds as she became accustomed to the dim light. Then a movement beside her warned her that although Noah had not joined her in the long hours when she lay awake, unable to close her eyes and shut out her misery, she was no longer alone.

  She sat up, throwing an anxious glance down at the bed beside her. But his back was turned to her, his breathing the slow, even pattern that indicated deep sleep, and she was able to breathe once more. Smothering a yawn, she very carefully eased herself back down on the pillow. She would be safe for another half-hour and she was so tired.

  But it was no good. She couldn’t go back to sleep. Her eyes were continually drawn to the figure sleeping beside her, half-turned onto his stomach. Drawn to the way his thick dark hair was cut to lie smoothly into the nape of his neck, to the way his back was bunched into power-packed muscle by an arm thrown at an angle across his pillow, and to the deep indentation along his spine that disappeared at waist-height beneath the sheet.

  She wanted to reach out and touch him, feel the warmth of silky skin beneath her hands, smooth away the cover so that she could enjoy his body without hindrance. Her own body reacted instinctively to the shocking sensuality of her thoughts, her nipples peaking, an urgent tremble invading her loins.

  But even as she reached out to touch the smooth, tanned skin she snatched her hand back from the brink of madness and, flinging back the bedclothes, fled to the relative safety of the bathroom, the sobering chill of a needle-sharp shower. She was shivering when she wrapped the thick, fluffy bathrobe about her. But she was safe.

  She was in the dressing room, sitting at the mirror brushing her hair, when she sensed that she was no longer alone and turned to see Noah standing in the doorway, watching her.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. She didn’t answer, returning to her task, but he didn’t go away. He advanced upon her, filling the mirror. ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Very well, thank you.’ The hand with the brush dropped to her lap. Her hand was shaking too much to continue.

  He pulled a face at her reflection. ‘Then heaven help you when you have a bad night.’ He reached for the hairbrush. ‘Good Lord, you’re freezing,’ he said as his hand touched hers. He put the brush down and, squatting down in front of her, took her hands in his, chafing some warmth into them. Then he briskly rubbed her arms and back through the bathrobe.

  ‘Don’t,’ she begged softly. ‘Please, don’t.’

  He stopped immediately and stood up, but the agony wasn’t over. ‘Come on, back into bed with you,’ he said.

  ‘No, I’m...’ The words disintegrated into a little scream as he bent and picked her up, striding across the room with her to deposit her upon the bed. ‘Here, put this on; it will warm you up.’ He held out the silk nightdress to her. She had pointedly ignored it the night before, preferring the safety of her striped cotton pyjamas.

  ‘This is silly, Noah. I’m just going to get dressed.’ He shrugged and caught the tie of her bathrobe. ‘All right!’ she squeaked, and slid beneath the sheets. She wriggled out of the bathrobe then, clutching the sheet up to her chin, held out her band for the nightdress.

  But, having thrown her robe over a chair, Noah chose to hold the frothy confection just out of reach, tantalising her with it. ‘I’ll give it to you on one condition,’ Noah said softly.

  ‘What condition?’

  ‘The next time you feel the need for a cold shower, Elizabeth Jordan, you invite me along. It would give me considerable pleasure to witness your suffering.’

  ‘Damn you, Noah! Give me that—’

  He placed his finger over her lips. ‘Not quite the attitude of a bride on the first morning of her married life-’

  ‘I didn’t choose to get married.’

  ‘Didn’t you? I thought we agreed last night that this was, after hall, exactly what you chose.’

  Lizzie glared at him. ‘But... It doesn’t make any difference.’

  ‘You think not?’ He sat beside her on the bed and tossed the nightdress on the floor. ‘It’s not as if you find me... repellent.’ His fingers traced the hollow of her shoulder, and he smiled as she shivered. ‘I don’t believe you could act quite that convincingly.’

  She edged away from him, but he had her effectively trapped, naked beneath the sheet. Suddenly Lizzie was very afraid that he was going to demonstrate precisely how different the situation was. ‘Noah, please!’ she begged, a little desperately.

  He smiled—a little twist of his mouth that was quite terrifying. ‘Please,’ he repeated softly, echoing the plea in her voice. ‘I liked that. Please, what?’

  ‘Don’t...play games with me.’

  He regarded her thoughtfully. ‘We have six months to fill. And I like... games. Did you know that you have the most beautiful neck?’

  She wanted to pull the sheet higher to cover her neck, but he was sitting on it. So she slipped further down against the pillows. His smile did not reassure her. ‘I’ll scream if you touch me,’ she said quickly.

  He rolled onto his side, propped himself on his elbow and smiled lazily down at her. She could feel the warmth of his body through his silk wrap, the linen sheet.

  ‘That rather depends where I touch you, Elizabeth.’ He laid his hand lightly on her breast, teasing a betraying
nipple.

  ‘Noah!’ she groaned.

  ‘You’ll have to raise your voice a little...’ his cool grey eyes had an almost hypnotic quality ‘...if you want to summon assistance.’ She didn’t. That was the trouble. ‘I believe you’ve stopped shivering, my dear. Could it be that you’re feeling warmer?’

  Warmer? She practically had steam coming out of her ears. ‘Just a little,’ she agreed, her voice little more than a croak.

  ‘You sound as if you might be getting a cold. Perhaps you’d better spend the rest of the day in bed. I’d be happy to—’ A tap at the door saved her from his opinion on the best way to spend the rest of the day. ‘Come in,’ Noah called.

  Mrs Harper bustled in, bearing a tray of tea. ‘I’ve brought up the papers for you, Mr Jordan, as you asked. There are some lovely pictures... Breakfast in an hour, Mrs Jordan?’

  Lizzie lay helplessly trapped beneath the sheet, burning with embarrassment. His little seduction had been nothing but a cruel tease. He’d known that they would be interrupted. Next time she might just prove more willing, and let him suffer too...

  ‘Half an hour,’ Noah intervened, managing to sound infinitely regretful. ‘Tell Harper that we’ll want the car at ten. He’d better check the traffic to Heathrow. Our flight is at midday.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ The moment she closed the door behind her Noah swung from the bed in one graceful movement and walked across to the table to collect the papers.

  Lizzie sat bolt upright. ‘Our flight? Where are we going?’

  ‘Cairo. Just for one night. You’ll need something glamorous for this evening. And something to cover up with. It can get cold once the sun goes down. As for the rest, something casual will do.’ He regarded her gravely. ‘But not—’

  ‘Jeans,’ she finished for him as he dumped the papers on the bed for her. ‘No need to labour the point, Noah. But I thought we were going to the cottage this weekend.’

  ‘We can go there any time. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity... and my wedding present to you. I went to pick up the tickets yesterday afternoon.’ He paused in the bathroom door. ‘And, even if I do say it myself, it’s a considerable improvement on that horrible tie.’