Innocent on Her Wedding Night (18 page)

She hadn’t slept well the previous night. Something had disturbed her—voices, somewhere—probably in the street below. And afterwards, she’d been restless, with the result that she hadn’t responded immediately to her alarm clock when it sounded, and had been forced to rush.

As usual, Dan had already left. Unusually, however, he’d left the living room untidy—a used glass on the table and sofa cushions tossed to the floor. Well, Mrs Archer could deal with that, she’d thought as she fled. She didn’t have time.

Yet here she was now, with unexpected time on her hands and no idea what to do with it.

As she unlocked the front door and went into the flat she became instantly aware of sounds coming from the kitchen. The chink of crockery, she realised. The opening and closing of cupboard doors.

She halted, surprised and a little startled, because it was too early for Mrs Archer, who usually arrived around midday. Unless, of course, Dan had changed her hours again.

But it wasn’t a middle-aged cleaning lady who emerged from the kitchen, but someone she’d never seen before. A girl with a mane of silvery fair hair spilling over her shoulders, who was wearing one of Dan’s shirts and nothing else, judging by the amount of expensive golden tan she was revealing. A girl with enormous blue eyes, full lips, and legs that went on for ever.

She checked too, when she saw Laine, her blue eyes widening as they absorbed the navy uniform dress, with the prominent Citi-Clean logo just above the right breast.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Are you the maid? Dan didn’t mention you’d be turning up.’

He didn’t mention you either, thought Laine, feeling almost sick with shock, her eyes flicking involuntarily to the still displaced sofa cushions. And last night’s voices hadn’t been in the street, but right here. And thank God I didn’t get up to investigate, because who knows what I might have walked in on?

She found a voice from somewhere. Not one that she particularly recognised, but it would do. ‘Actually, I live here. But I work for a maid service somewhere else.’

‘I see,’ the girl said doubtfully, then smiled, her face lighting up with swift charm. ‘No, frankly, I don’t see. I can’t get my head round any of this. Daniel Flynn—flat-sharing? Unbelievable. And a place like this too.’ She paused, flushing a little. ‘I’m sorry. That sounds horribly rude, and I’m sure it’s really nice in its way, but it’s just—not Dan’s kind of territory.’

‘I agree,’ Laine said evenly. ‘It seems like he’s slumming to me, too. But I wasn’t around when he did the deal with my brother.’ She paused. ‘Perhaps he didn’t explain that he—he’s an old friend of the family. And this is strictly a temporary arrangement while the renovations on his house are being completed.’ She added stiltedly, ‘Of course you know he’s bought a house?’

‘Oh, please let’s not go there.’ The girl groaned comically. ‘Morning, noon and night I hear nothing but complaints about builders, delays, supplies, penalty clauses. The whole bit. You must be sick of it too.’

‘Daniel and I just share a roof,’ Laine said quietly. ‘I’m not in his confidence.’

And I know nothing about you either, she thought, except that you’re the current update on the usual model—like his cars. But, then, why should I know? The only real surprise here is that it’s never happened before. Why I should have assumed he’d continue to play away instead of bringing his girls back here. After all, he has no reason to spare my feelings—even if he knew they existed.

‘Oh,’ the girl said slowly. ‘Well—I’m Belinda. And I’m also in real trouble.

Because Dan made me swear I’d be out of here by now—only, like an idiot, I went back to sleep.’ She shrugged, her expression rueful—conspiratorial. ‘You know how it is.’

No, Laine returned silently, the ache inside her twisting into quiet agony. I don’t know, and I never have.

‘I thought I’d make myself a drink before I went in the shower,’ Belinda continued. ‘I was hoping there’d be some herb tea around, but I can’t find any.’

‘There should be some camomile,’ Laine said steadily. ‘Try the last cupboard to the right of the stove.’

‘Terrific.’ Belinda lingered, her glance questioning. ‘Would you like some, too—er…?

Laine forced her mouth into the approximation of a smile. ‘It’s Laine,’ she said. ‘Laine Sinclair, and I’ll pass on the tea, thanks.’

‘Fine.’ The other shrugged again. ‘Then, I’ll—see you later.’ And she disappeared back into the kitchen, allowing Laine to escape into her bedroom.

Moving like an automaton, she removed her uniform and put it on a hanger, then wrapped herself in her old robe and lay down on the bed, aware that she was shivering.

I can’t go on like this, she thought. I can’t bear it

Knowing that something must be so is one thing, but being confronted head-on by the evidence is quite another. And his Belinda seems really nice. In other circumstances I might have liked her, wanted to get to know her better.

As it is…

She turned over, burying her face in her pillow. And when, some time later, she heard a soft tap on the door and Belinda saying, ‘Laine, I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving now,’ she made no reply.

Denise, she found, had been correct in her prediction. By midafternoon they were both back in uniform and back at the flats, making up the lost hours.

‘It’ll mean overtime,’ Denise said. ‘But that won’t stop my old man playing hell. He expects me there when he gets home.’ She paused. ‘Got anyone waiting for you, gal?’

‘No,’ Laine said. ‘No one at all.’

But in this instance she was wrong, because when she got back to the flat, just after nine-thirty in the evening, Daniel was there, pacing up and down, his face like thunder.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ he demanded, swinging round as she entered. He was barefoot, his casual black shirt hanging open over a pair of close-fitting jeans. He looked bad-tempered and incredibly sexy—as if he’d just fallen out of bed, she thought, wondering whether he’d spent the evening alone, or Belinda had come back. If so, she was not there now, and Laine despised herself for the relief that flooded her.

Daniel thrust the evening paper at her. ‘Have you seen this?’ He read the headline aloud. ‘“Drug dealer shot in Kensington slaying.” And right where you work, Laine. You could have been in the middle of it. I’ve been worried sick.’

‘Then don’t be.’ She glared back at him. ‘It was over when I got there, and all it meant was a later start and an even later finish.’ She paused. ‘And, in any case, it’s no damned business of yours.’

‘Don’t be so bloody silly.’ His voice was rough. ‘I’m bound to be concerned.’

‘No,’ she said with equal fierceness. ‘You’re not. You have no obligations towards me in any way at all—as I decided a long time ago.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Nothing.’ She cursed herself silently for the tiredness that had caused that slip of the tongue. ‘You said it yourself—you’re not my brother or any other relation. Please remember that, and get off my case.’

She bit her lip. ‘Also, I’ve had a swine of a day,’ she added chokingly.

‘So I really don’t need to be shouted at—especially by you. I just want to have a bath and go to bed—if that’s quite all right?’

There was a taut silence, then he said, ‘Have you eaten?’

She could hardly remember. ‘No,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘Not lately.’

‘Then go and have your bath, and I’ll make supper for you.’

She looked down at the carpet. ‘Be careful,’ she said in a low voice. ‘That sounds dangerously like kindness again.’

His mouth twisted. ‘I’ll risk it if you will. Now, be off with you before I start shouting again.’

She got to her bedroom door, then turned as a thought struck her. ‘Anyway, how did you know the area I worked?’

‘I wrote you a reference.’ He shrugged. ‘It made sense to find out what kind of outfit it was and what was involved.’

She stared at him. ‘You wrote it—yourself?’

‘Isn’t that what you asked me to do?’

‘Why—yes.’ But she’d assumed that he’d hand the task on to his secretary, as he’d told her.

‘Well, then.’ His voice slowed to a drawl. ‘And I suggest you go—unless you want me to run your bath for you, and put you in it?’

She caught her breath on a startled gasp, then shot into her room, closing the door behind her with emphasis. From temper to teasing, she thought in bewilderment. So what mood would he be in next? And how safe would it be to find out?

She stood for a moment, staring into space, then shook her head, telling herself she was overreacting, and went into the bathroom, shedding her clothes on the way.

She half filled the tub, sinking down into the water with a small sigh of pleasure as she closed her eyes, yet aware at the same time that complete relaxation was beyond her.

Knowing that he’d been on her mind all day, her strenuous mopping, vacuuming and polishing punctuated by images of him and Belinda together, making love, leaving her struggling between shame and misery.

And where Daniel was concerned she didn’t have to imagine a thing. Not since that day she’d walked back into the flat and met him, strolling naked out of her bedroom. One more memory among the many she was unable to blot from her consciousness.

But then everything that had occurred between them was in the past, she thought.

No present, and certainly no future—unless, somehow, she made it happen.

She slid further down into the water, thinking unwillingly of Belinda, the golden—the beautiful—and curved in all the right places, as revealed by that inadequately fastened shirt. And then looked down at herself.

Not just slim—she could almost count her ribs. Her breasts were reasonably shaped, but small, and her hipbones were altogether too prominent.

No wonder Daniel had seen her as a child, to be treated with kindness and forbearance.

But that wasn’t enough. Not then. Not now.

Living with him, she thought, but not living together. Loving him, but always being forced to hide it. To accept loneliness and isolation, and at the same time to conceal the longing that crucified her—and now the jealousy.

Ever since their wedding night she’d walked a tightrope between misery on one hand and pride on the other. But now her balance was slipping, and she couldn’t guarantee how much longer she could remain in control of her emotions. Of the physical needs she’d tried to ignore over the requirements of sheer survival.

Only that wasn’t working any more—creating a problem she knew she wasn’t experienced enough to solve.

And to begin with she had to go back into the living room, and sit with him, eating whatever food he’d prepared, and appearing grateful but not overwhelmed.

When all the time…

She dried herself slowly and dressed in another of her collection of anonymous white blouses and an ankle-length green skirt that she’d bought originally for her honeymoon and worn rarely since.

Certainly Dan had never seen it, or much of her trousseau at all—apart from the yellow dress he’d claimed he wanted to unbutton, creating at least an illusion of desire for his girl-bride.

And, of course, her nightgown.

But she doubted whether he’d noticed that, because by then he’d only been looking at her face, searching her eyes, focussing on the movement of her lips as they spoke the words that would drive him away from her.

Words that still rankled with him. Words that he would never forgive, but which might prove her salvation. Might prevent her from throwing away her hard-won pride in some ludicrous attempt to make him see her as a woman—even for only a few hours. One night out of his life and hers, she thought with sudden yearning.

Was that really so much to ask?

And knew that it was. That it had to be. That anything else was unthinkable.

Therefore she left her small store of cosmetics in their bag, so that it wouldn’t look as if she was making any special effort, and instead simply brushed her hair until it curved to her shoulders before she went to join him.

Daniel was stretched out on one of the sofas, watching some news programme on television and drinking wine when she came in, and she felt his eyes flicker over her in swift appraisal as he rose and handed her the glass he’d filled for her too.

He said laconically, ‘Supper’s on its way,’ and disappeared into the kitchen.

She sat down on the other sofa, curling bare toes into the rug as she sipped her wine, feeling its coolness refresh her dry mouth. At the same time she noticed the small dining table had only been set with a place for one.

‘You’re not eating?’ she queried when he returned a few minutes later, carrying a plate.

‘I had an early business dinner,’ he said. ‘Come and eat this while it’s hot.’

‘This,’ she discovered, was a mound of perfectly scrambled eggs, sprinkled with tiny slivers of smoked salmon and accompanied by fingers of golden toast.

‘It’s amazing,’ she said after the first forkful. ‘I had no idea you could cook.’

He brought his glass and the bottle to the table and sat down. His voice was dry. ‘I suspect the things that we don’t know about each other could fill a medium-sized book.’

When she’d finished, she sat back with a sigh of contentment. ‘If you’d asked me, I’d have said I was too tired to eat.’

‘How about talking?’ he said. ‘Are you too tired for that?’

Laine fiddled with the stem of her glass. ‘That—rather depends on the topic of conversation.’

‘Not an easy one, I fear.’ His tone was blunt. ‘I want to know how much money your former boyfriend took from you down in Florida. Jamie reckons he cleaned you out.’

She flushed. ‘Jamie should not have discussed it, and you had no right to ask him.’

‘I was here when you woke up screaming.’ He spoke calmly. ‘So let’s not talk about rights.’

‘But I wasn’t screaming over the damage to my bank balance.’ She drank some more wine. ‘Over being a fool, perhaps. But that’s all over and done with, and I have to forget it and move on.’

‘Except you seem to be moving backwards.’ He took her hand, inspecting the small square palm and the slim fingers with their blunt unvarnished nails, running the ball of his thumb over their faint roughness.