by Sara Craven
Which he seemed in no hurry to do, and she could only hope he’d put in an appearance before dinner was actually announced.
When the drawing room door eventually opened, she turned hopefully, but it was to see Lindsay Watson walk into the room. She was wearing a dark navy dress with a white starched collar and cuffs. There was a small silver watch pinned to her breast pocket, and her blond hair was drawn back into a severe bun.
On the surface, she was every inch the calm, efficient nurse, but her eyes were very bright and her face unusually flushed.
But why wouldn’t she be looking a little flustered? Chloe thought, taking a gulp of orange juice to ease the sudden dryness in her throat, if she’s aiming to be the next Lady Maynard and everyone in the room knows it?
Lindsay went straight to Sir Gregory, bending over him solicitously, and he nodded, smiling with an obvious effort.
Uncle Hal came over to Chloe. ‘Just what is Ian playing at?’ he asked in a displeased undertone. ‘I’ve tried to phone him, but I can’t get a signal in here.’
‘I’ll go out on the terrace and text him,’ Chloe said quickly. ‘Perhaps he’s been called out to an emergency.’
‘Then why didn’t he ring and say so?’ Uncle Hal demanded with inexorable logic, and Chloe could not think of an answer.
She slipped out through the French windows and went over to the balustrade, but she’d barely begun her message when she heard the crunch of footsteps on gravel and saw Ian appear round the corner of the house on the path below her, his face moody and preoccupied.
She leaned over the balustrade. ‘Ian—where on earth have you been? And what are you doing, anyway, coming in this way?’
He glanced up with a start. ‘Oh—Chloe.’ He gave an uneven laugh. ‘I forgot this was a social occasion and parked round by the stables. Force of habit, I guess.’
She drew a deep breath. ‘Well, at least you’re here. I was beginning to worry.’
He shrugged almost defensively. ‘I was busy. I just—lost track of time.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I understand.’
Except that I don’t. I don’t understand any of this, and I’m even more scared now than I was earlier, and I need you to take me in your arms and tell me that everything’s going to be all right. I need to walk back into that room with my hand in yours and make a joke about you getting lost.
But I already know in my heart that’s not going to happen. That somehow I’m on my own here.
And she thought of Darius’s cold green glance reaching her across the room, and suppressed a shiver.
She lifted her chin. ‘So,’ she said. ‘Let’s go in and have dinner.’
As Aunt Libby had prophesied, the food was a dream, and even Chloe’s persistent feeling of unease could put up no real resistance to its allure.
Ian was seated beside Lindsay Watson on the opposite side of the table and while they seemed to have little to say to each other, Chloe noticed with relief that he was chatting readily enough to Mrs Burton, his other neighbour. But he was also, she saw, enjoying more of the excellent wine being served than was wise.
Darius too appeared fully occupied at the far end of the table, entertaining Aunt Libby on one side and Mrs Vaughan on the other.
At the same time, Chloe was assailed at intervals during the long meal by a sharp tingle of awareness, warning her almost starkly that he was looking at her. In return, she tried hard to seem oblivious and did not allow herself as much as a glance in his direction.
Yet, all too often, she found herself remembering the brief snatch of conversation between Darius and Lindsay that she’d inadvertently overheard on the way into dinner.
‘Why the uniform, Lindsay?’ he’d asked. ‘You’re supposed to be off duty tonight, remember?’
‘Because I thought it was more appropriate.’ She did not look at him or smile. ‘Under the circumstances.’
Clearly, he’d expected her to present herself as his future wife rather than his father’s paid carer, thought Chloe, biting her lip.
When the meal was over, Sir Gregory rose slowly and with obvious difficulty and apologised for not joining the party in the drawing room for coffee.
‘Dr Vaughan will tell you that I must ration my excitements for the foreseeable future,’ he told them.
Chloe went upstairs with the rest of the women to comb her hair and renew her lipstick, but on her way down again she saw Darius standing at the foot of the stairs, and realised he was waiting for her.
She halted, disconcerted, before reluctantly continuing her descent, and his sardonic smile told her that her hesitation was not lost on him.
‘My father is resting in his library,’ he said. ‘However, he would like to talk to you, if you can spare him a few minutes.’
‘He wants to see me?’ She could not hide her surprise.
‘I’ve just said so.’
She stood for a moment, fiddling with the clasp of her evening bag. ‘Is he also going to tell me off about Samson?’
‘Good God, no.’ His tone was short. ‘You think I mentioned that to him? What the hell do you take me for?’
‘I don’t think I know any more.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But, while I have the chance, I need to say that I’m sorry for trying to ride him. I knew perfectly well that I shouldn’t.’
‘Yes,’ Darius said. ‘But I gather you’re not wholly to blame. Because for you to hear that I’d said exactly that was like showing a red rag to a bull, according to Arthur, who’s been kicking himself ever since for telling you.’
‘So now I’m a bull.’ She pretended to wince. ‘But thank you too for not mentioning it to my uncle—or anyone else.’
He said quietly, ‘The matter was dealt with in house. And I’ve never been a squealer, Chloe.’
‘No.’ She paused, then said in a rush, ‘Tim told me what you did for him—about the dog-fighting.’
‘Did he?’ He shrugged. ‘Well, it hardly matters. It was a very long time ago.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But people thought that you were involved in it, not Tim.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘They did. But I managed to live with it.’ He gave a faint smile. ‘Or maybe I should say away from it.’
‘What do you mean?’
He said flatly, ‘That it helped convince me that Willowford was not for me, and my place was elsewhere.’
She said uncertainly, ‘Yet you’re back now.’
‘For the time being.’ His voice was curt again. ‘And we’re keeping my father waiting.’
In spite of the warmth of the evening, Sir Gregory was sitting with a rug over his knees beside a small fire. His eyes were closed, but one hand was beating a restless tattoo on the arm of his chair.
Darius said gently, ‘Here’s Chloe, Father.’
‘Good,’ Sir Gregory said after a pause. ‘That’s good. Please sit down, my dear.’
As Chloe took the seat opposite, she heard the library door shut and realised Darius had left them alone together.
There was a silence, then Sir Gregory said, ‘My wife used to say you would be a beauty, my child, and she was quite right.’
Chloe flushed. ‘She was always very kind to me.’
He said haltingly, ‘She had great hopes for you. Believed you should be allowed to stretch your wings and fly.’ He paused. ‘She talked to you, I think, about her early life. The cities and foreign embassies that became her home?’
Chloe smiled. ‘Yes,’ she said gently. ‘She did. She made it all sound wonderful—exotic, exciting.’
‘She loved to travel. Perhaps even she did not realise how much it meant to her.’ He lifted a handkerchief to the corners of his mouth. Went on slowly, ‘When we first met and married, we planned to continue in the same way. To see the rest of the world together. Then my father died very suddenly, and we were obliged to come back here instead.
‘And, of course, everything changed. A house like this—an estate—brings its responsibilities with it. We could n
ot just leave it behind and go. Or so I believed. But then I was born and brought up here, and although I knew it was a backwater, it was my backwater, and I loved it.’
He sighed. ‘Then the boys were born, and that seemed another reason to build our lives around the home we were making here.
‘I thought Margaret shared my contentment, but in reality, she felt stifled by village life and its obligations. Being constantly under a spotlight. Eventually, Willowford began to seem like a prison to her.’
Chloe stirred uneasily. ‘Sir Gregory, I don’t think …’
He held up a hand. ‘Please, my dear, I need to tell you these things. My wife would have wished me to. Because you made the break when you went to university and afterwards, just as she’d always hoped you would. You took flight away from this small world.
‘Yet now, my son tells me, you have come back to be married and to settle here, so it is vital for you to be sure that this is really the life for you.
‘That it’s the only possible future you can see for yourself.’
He paused. ‘I believe you once wanted to be a writer. Has that been forgotten about?’
She stared at him, her breathing quickening, sharply, inexplicably. ‘No, not entirely,’ she said jerkily. ‘But I can always write after I’m married. I’ll have more time then. And Willowford is the only real home I’ve ever had. I—I always meant to return.’
He leaned forward with an effort, his gaze boring into hers. ‘And is it just as you remember, or has it changed? Are you even the same person that went away?’
‘Yes,’ she said huskily. ‘I am. And I admit that things here are different in many ways. But that doesn’t matter because I’ve come back to find the man I love, and be happy with him, just as I’ve always dreamed.’
There was a silence, then he said, ‘Ah,’ and leaned back against the cushions piled behind him. He turned his head slowly and gazed at the flames burning in the fireplace. ‘Then may your dreams come true, my dear. And now I wish you goodnight.’
Chloe stood outside the library door, her arms wrapped defensively across her body, as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. She would have sworn that Sir Gregory was barely aware of her existence, and yet he’d talked as if he knew and was concerned about her.
As, apparently, Lady Maynard had once been. A woman whose own wings had been clipped by duty, but who had always longed for the larger world she’d left behind. Who’d found village life stifling and oppressive.
But I’m not like that, Chloe whispered to herself. I don’t want to escape. Because I do belong here. I do!
‘Chloe.’ The thick carpet had muffled the sound of his approach, and she gasped, taking an instinctive step backwards.
‘I know my way back to the drawing room.’ She faced him, her heart pounding unevenly. ‘You really didn’t have to collect me.’
‘I came to bring you a message,’ Darius returned equably.
‘Your boyfriend seemed a little the worse for wear after his double brandy, so your aunt and uncle decided to take him home. He can collect his car tomorrow.’
‘They’ve already left?’ Chloe shook her head, mortification over Ian’s behaviour warring with other concerns. ‘Then how am I supposed to get back to the Grange? Or am I allowed three guesses?’ she added bitterly.
‘I think you’d lose.’ He sounded faintly amused. ‘The Vaughans live in your direction. They say they’ll be happy to drop you off.’
It was the last thing she’d expected to hear, and she managed a weak, ‘Oh. Well—thank you,’ in return.
It was time she returned to the drawing room and other people, but Darius was still there, not exactly blocking the way, but certainly too close for comfort.
She took a deep breath. ‘Ian doesn’t usually drink too much,’ she declared. ‘He—he’s been under a lot of stress lately.’
‘I can imagine,’ Darius said silkily. ‘Brought on by the prospect of his approaching nuptials no doubt.’
I led with my chin there, Chloe thought biting her lip savagely. Will I never learn?
‘Who knows?’ she said. ‘You may be tempted to hit the bottle yourself when your own day comes.’
‘Unlikely,’ he said. ‘I’ve no wish to bring a hangover to my wedding night.’ He smiled at her, his gaze unhurriedly brushing aside the cling of her dress as if it didn’t exist. ‘On the contrary,’ he went on musingly. ‘My wife will receive my sober and undivided attention.’
‘And that,’ Chloe said stonily, ‘is altogether too much information.’ She stepped forward. ‘Would you excuse me, please? I need to find the Vaughans. I can’t miss out on another lift.’
‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘But what are you going to do, Chloe, when you have no more places left to run to or people to rescue you? What will happen when you realise you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life?’
‘I already did that,’ she said with sudden hoarseness. ‘Seven years ago when I was fool enough to listen to the things you said to me—to let you anywhere near me.’
‘Rather an exaggeration, my sweet.’ His tone was light, but his face seemed carved from stone in the dim light of the passage. ‘Any damage caused was far from irreparable. And I was the bigger fool to let you off so lightly. It won’t happen next time.’
‘Next time?’ Her attempt at a laugh sounded as if she was choking. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses?’
‘Not yet,’ Darius said very quietly. ‘But when I do, I’ll take you with me.’ His hand snaked out and caught her arm, pulling her towards him. His fingers slid under the shoulder of her dress, baring the pale skin beneath it for the burn of his mouth.
The stark male heat of him pressed against her was igniting her quivering body, racing through her bloodstream and melting her bones.
His lips moved downwards, pushing aside the fragile lace that cupped her breast, in order to quest its hardening nipple and suckle it with heart-stopping sensuality.
‘No. Oh, God, no.’ The words seemed to come from nowhere, torn from her aching throat. Her hands thrust at him in an attempt to distance herself before her self-betrayal became complete.
His fingers wound themselves in her hair, pulling back her head so that he could look down into her white, desperate face and tormented eyes.
He said harshly, ‘Stay with me. Stay tonight. I’ll make some excuse to the Vaughans.’
‘No.’ Chloe dragged her dress into place with shaking hands. ‘Never. And you have no right to ask. Because I hate you. You—you disgust me.’
‘In other circumstances,’ Darius said very softly, ‘I would take you to bed right now and make you retract every word you’ve just uttered. As it is, my little hypocrite, I have to get back to my guests. However, I hope you have had a pleasant evening, and that you derive equal enjoyment from the sleepless night alone that’s waiting for you.’
He bent his head and let his mouth brush hers gently but with an agonising slowness that was somehow worse than any kind of force.
He said, ‘Until we meet again, Chloe.’
And left her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘I WASN’T drunk,’ Ian said irritably. ‘But I admit I was probably over the limit. Although that was hardly my fault,’ he added defensively. ‘Perhaps our gracious host shouldn’t have topped up my glass quite so often.’
Or maybe you should have simply put your hand over your glass to stop him, like all the other drivers, thought Chloe, but kept silent.
She said quietly, ‘I’m not having a go—truly. I think I’m just disappointed that we didn’t get to spend more time together.’ She paused. ‘I seem to see so little of you these days.’
‘Well, with your uncle’s retirement looming up, I guess that’s inevitable.’ Ian shrugged. ‘I have a lot to learn in the way of office management, for one thing.’
And what are the other things? Chloe asked herself. It seemed wiser, however, not to pursue the topic, while Darius’s mocking words about the p
ossible cause of Ian’s stress still twisted painfully in her mind.
But she would rather think about them than their incredible, shameful aftermath in his arms. And the implied threat in his parting remark which still made her shiver.
Once alone, she’d gone straight to the downstairs cloakroom, and splashed cold water on her wrists in an attempt to calm her tumultuous pulses, but there was little she could do about her flushed face and fevered eyes.
When she got back to the drawing room the party was breaking up, and her faint dishevelment seemed fortunately to go unnoticed in the flurry of goodbyes.
She’d expected to face some strong words about Ian’s conduct from Uncle Hal when she got back to the Grange but, to her surprise, neither he nor Aunt Libby mentioned it, preferring apparently to discuss the delicious food and Sir Gregory’s undoubted improvement in health.
She’d also anticipated that Ian would be eating his share of humble pie when she saw him next, but she was wrong about that too, she thought, sighing.
Pressure of work had reduced the already limited amount of time they spent together. They’d met for drinks a couple of times, had dinner in East Ledwick once, and been to the cinema to see a film during which Ian had gone to sleep.
All in all, it did not seem an appropriate time to raise the subject of their postponed engagement, although the situation could not be allowed to drag on indefinitely.
After all, she had come back to Willowford for him, she told herself, and now, more than ever, she needed the safeguard of his ring on her hand and the public declaration of commitment that would justify her return.
It should also be sufficient to keep Darius at bay both physically and mentally, she thought fiercely, recalling the shaming fantasies that had made her toss and turn all night long, just as he’d predicted.
