Just for a Night (12 page)

‘Nine, miss.' The butler frowned ever so slightly, then gave a small knowing nod, rather reminiscent of Henry's body language. ‘Just one moment, miss,' he said, and disappeared for a few seconds before reap
pearing and holding out his hand. ‘I think, perhaps, these are yours.'

She took the hairpins and wished with all her heart that the polished wooden floor would open up and swallow her.

‘I won't mention finding them to His Lordship, miss,' Talbot added, without a hint of conspiracy and totally ignoring her wild blush. ‘Or your little visit here this morning. It would only upset him.'

Marina was taken aback. She blinked, then glared at the butler through her own distress.

Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?
scorned that brutally honest side of hers, which responded rather badly to hypocrisy and double standards.
To hell with your feelings, Miss Marina, as long as we don't upset His Lordship!

‘Thanks a million,' she snapped, and, whirling, she stalked off, the pins clenched in an angry fist.

What a first-class idiot she was to ever hope that what they'd shared last night might mean something special to James! Okay, so he might not love her as she loved him, but it was galling to find out she was probably one in a long line of ladies who'd left pins behind in his bedroom. Or panties. Or whole damned negligées!

As for Talbot—there were no flies on
him
! Clearly James had trained him better than Henry! Talbot probably had a whole cupboard full of ladies' leftovers somewhere! No doubt he'd even prepared the room for His Lordship last night beforehand, delicately
leaving behind a ready supply of condoms in case His Lordship had an unfortunate slip of memory.

Can't have the Winterborne blood being contaminated in any way, can we? Can't go letting
common
flesh get too close to the purer strains. After all, commoners might have unspeakable diseases. Or, worse, they might actually
breed
!

Marina had worked herself up to a good head of steam by breakfast time. But once Rebecca joined her on the stairs, holding her hand and chattering away like the happy little girl she was, Marina resolved to put her bad temper aside. What would be the point in spoiling the day for Rebecca by being cranky? Or in spoiling the day for herself? She'd known the score, hadn't she?

But it was infinitely hard to hold her tongue when James came downstairs in a darkly brooding mood. He presented himself briefly in the morning room, saying he wouldn't be having any breakfast and that he'd already had coffee in his room. He then disappeared into his study with the excuse that he had estate business to attend to while he was down.

A most put-out Marina was left to entertain Rebecca, who didn't seem to mind. If Marina hadn't liked the child so much she might have gone and given James a piece of her mind. How dared he treat her so shabbily? As it was, she set to giving the little girl some quality time while they could be together. After all, Rebecca had to go back to the hospital that afternoon.

‘I don't want you to ever go back home, Marina,'
the child said with touching sincerity, over the morning tea party they were having in the gazebo. ‘Can't you stay longer?'

‘I'm afraid not, sweetie. I really must be going home. Oh, dear!' she exclaimed as a thought struck.

‘What is it?'

‘I just realised. I…I haven't rung home to let them know I'm catching the next plane. I wonder what time it is in Sydney? I think there's ten hours' difference, which would make it nine at night. I'll have to go back to the house and ring straight away, Rebecca. You'd best come with me.'

‘Oh, do I have to?'

Marina had no intention of leaving the seven-year-old unattended next to a lake. ‘Yes, you do,' she insisted. ‘It'll only be for a few minutes. Come on.'

‘Oh, all right. I'll go and talk to Mildred.'

Mildred directed Marina to James's study door, then walked off with her charge already talking fifty to the dozen. Marina knocked, and entered after a brusque, ‘Come in.'

James was indeed sitting behind a desk. But he wasn't working. He was leaning back in a large wing-backed leather chair and seemed to be contemplating his shoes, which were propped up on the leather-topped desk.

He's been avoiding me, Marina realised.

His feet dropped to the floor at her entrance, but that wasn't as far as her heart had dropped. He snapped forward, clearly agitated by her sudden appearance. ‘I thought you were Talbot,' he said.

‘No, it's just me,' she retorted coldly. ‘Last night's lay.'

His eyes showed shock at her words.
And
her tone.

‘I have to ring Sydney,' she went on curtly. ‘I need to tell Shane to meet the following day's plane. Mildred said I could use the phone in the hall, but I'm funny about things like using other people's phones for long-distance calls. I worry about the money it's costing.

‘Silly me!' She smirked at his still shocked face. ‘I should have realised money means nothing to men like you. Sorry for interrupting your work. I'll just trundle on back the way I came and use the phone in the lower hallway, like Mildred said.

‘Don't worry. I'll soon get the hang of doing in Rome as the Romans do. It's just that I'm not used to creeping into a gentleman's bedroom in the dead of night. I'm not used to a gentleman's gentleman secretly handing me my hairpins in the morning like it was the most normal thing in the world. And I'm certainly not used to my lovers—as pathetically few as they have been—treating me the next morning like I have a contagious disease. As I said. Silly me!'

She spun on her heels to leave, and would have done so if he hadn't grabbed her from behind, pulling her back against him and kicking the door shut with his foot. With an amazing burst of strength she wrenched out of his hold and whirled, her hand slicing across his face with incredible force. The sound of it striking his cheek was like the crack of a bull whip.
She stared, stunned, as the perfect imprint of her hand flared against his skin.

‘Oh!' she cried, then stared down at her own stinging hand. She might have burst into tears if she hadn't been so appalled.

James just stood there, his hand lifting slowly to trace the red welts as they rose. ‘Remind me not to grab you too often,' he said drily.

‘James, I'm sorry!' she blurted out.

‘Don't be,' he said. ‘I dare say I deserved it. And it's I who am sorry. I didn't stop to think how my mood this morning might appear to you. Lords don't often have to think of others, although I honestly do try to.'

Which he did, she knew. She'd seen the evidence of his thoughtfulness. With William. And Henry. And Rebecca.

‘You can make your call in here,' he said, and pointed to the phone on the desk. ‘I think I'd best go and put a cold compress on this.'

Marina groaned once he'd left the room. She felt bitterly ashamed of herself. He hadn't made false promises to her. He hadn't treated her that badly. She'd had no right to hit him. She was acting like a melodramatic fool!

Sighing, she walked slowly over to pick up the receiver, having to stop and think at length before remembering the overseas codes and dialling.

Shane answered fairly quickly.

‘Yep?' he said succinctly.

‘Shane, it's Marina.'

‘About time, too, madam. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me.'

‘Of course I haven't forgotten you,' she said carefully. She had no intention of breaking up with him over the phone and thousands of miles away. To do so would be cruel, and Shane didn't deserve that. ‘The thing is, Shane, today's plane was overbooked and they've asked me to delay my flight till tomorrow.'

‘What? With a first-class seat? You just damned well tell them that's not on. Insist on the Sunday flight.'

Marina sighed. ‘I can't do that, Shane.'

‘Women!' he scorned. ‘How do you ever think you're going to get on in this world if you don't insist on your rights? Your mother would have told them what for, Marina. She was one tough lady. Still, I guess the airline pays for everything when this happens, don't they? But don't let them put you in some second-class joint tonight. Insist on a five-star hotel, with taxis to and fro.'

‘I'm staying the extra night at His Lordship's apartment in London,' she explained. ‘It's in Mayfair. And his car will take me to the airport.'

‘My, my, how toffy! So what's the old geezer like, eh?'

The old geezer walked in at that point and stood there, watching her. Marina was somewhat relieved to see his cheek had returned to normal.

‘He's very nice,' she murmured.

‘And very rich.' Shane sounded envious. ‘Has he
given you a gift in appreciation of your generosity in going over there?'

‘Not exactly.'

‘What do you mean by not exactly?'

‘Well, he
has
put all he owns at my disposal,' she said, her chin lifting as their eyes met across the room. ‘And that's been very…memorable.'

‘Pigs! The least he could have done was give you something personal.'

‘I must go, Shane. This is costing a fortune. Don't forget to meet the plane.'

‘See yuh.'

She hung up and battled to stop her chin from quivering.

‘You're not still going to marry him, are you?' James asked in a disbelieving voice.

She laughed the threatened tears away. But it was not a nice laugh. “You're not still going to marry Lady Tiffany, are you?” she shot straight back.

‘But you don't
love
him,' he went on, as if he hadn't heard her counter-argument.

‘And you don't love
her
!' she cried, and threw her arms up in the air at his obtuseness. ‘For pity's sake, face it, James. Whether you love
me
or not is immaterial. You don't love
her
. If you did, you would have made love to her by now. Nothing would have stopped you. Not honour, conscience or some stupid sacred duty to her brother!

‘You're a passionate man. For you, love and sex will never be separated. You might like and admire her. You might feel responsible for her. You might
wish to protect and cherish her. But you absolutely do not love—'

A loud ‘ahem' in the open doorway behind James stopped Marina in her tracks. It was the inimitable Talbot, doing a perfect imitation of Henry at his most formal.

‘I'm sorry to interrupt, My Lord. But you have a visitor.'

James turned slowly. Stiffly. ‘A visitor?'

‘Yes, My Lord. Lady Tiffany.'

Marina threw a shocked James an equally shocked look.

‘Lady Tiffany?' he echoed, his voice taut.

‘Yes, My Lord. She's waiting for you in the drawing room. She wishes to see you…alone.'

There was a moment's fraught silence.

‘Please tell Lady Tiffany that I will be along shortly.'

‘Yes, My Lord.' The butler gave the minutest of bows and was gone.

Marina had to admire the swift way James had composed himself. But what on earth was Tiffany doing back in England a day earlier than expected? And why had she hot-footed it straight down
here
?

Her actions smacked of something suspicious. Marina wondered now if she had been told something about herself and James. Had there been some gossip which had led to that phone call on Friday about her having second thoughts?

Marina recalled the media had snapped more than a few shots of her and James together the Wednesday
he'd brought her home from the hospital, one with his arm around her waist. It had been in all the morning papers. Maybe someone had also seen them together at the theatre and had hurried to inform Tiffany. People could be dreadful mischief-makers.

Another more horrible thought intruded.

‘James, surely Henry would not have—?'

‘No,' he broke in curtly. ‘Henry would
not
have.' He came forward and took her by the shoulders, holding her firmly and forcing her to look him square in the eye. ‘Before I see what Tiffany wants,' he ground out, ‘tell me one thing. What was behind your tirade a minute ago? Dare I hope you really, truly love me, Marina? Or was there some other reason for it?'

‘I…I…'

‘Don't lie to me. I need to know the truth.'

Hope filled her heart at his passionately urgent demand. ‘Yes,' she told him. ‘Yes, I do love you. Really. Truly.'

‘Dear God, why didn't you say so last night?'

‘Why didn't
I
? Why didn't
you
?'

He looked bewildered. ‘How could I, when I thought you were leaving me to go back to Australia, that all I could have with you was just the one night?'

Her breath caught. ‘I…I only said that because I was so sure you didn't really love me, that all you wanted was sex.'

‘Ahh.' He sighed deeply, then smiled the widest, most satisfied smile. ‘Stay here, my love. I'll try not to be too long.'

Marina watched him stride out of the room, her heart already racing along with her mind.

His love…

He'd called her his love.

He loved her. He really, truly loved her—loved her more than he'd ever loved Tiffany.

Armed with that knowledge, Marina knew she would go to the ends of the earth for him now. He would never have to live without her. Never, for as long as they lived!

M
ARINA
was pacing impatiently around the room when Talbot appeared in the doorway.

‘His Lordship would like you to join him and Lady Tiffany in the drawing room, miss,' the butler announced. ‘It's the second door along on your—'

‘Yes, yes, Talbot,' she broke in agitatedly. ‘I know where it is. Thank you.'

Talbot disappeared and Marina sucked in several steadying breaths. But to no avail. She was suddenly besieged by nerves, and the most undermining thoughts.

Why hadn't James come back to get her himself? Had Tiffany dashed straight home from Italy after the wedding because she regretted her phone call the other day? Was she at this very moment begging James's forgiveness, telling him she loved him and still wanted to marry him? Had he taken one look at her perfectly matched self and decided he could not possibly throw away the life he had planned with her in favour of a working-class Aussie girl he'd only just met?

Marina knew she was being ridiculously negative, but it was still with great reluctance that she stepped out into the hallway and headed towards the drawing room.

During her grand tour the previous day, Marina had thought the drawing room the most welcoming room in the house. The wallpaper was a soft green, with white flowers strewn across it. The drapes at the tall windows were gold and the carpet a toning pattern. The furniture, which was arranged in cosy groups, consisted of armchairs covered in green and gold brocade and various mahogany side-tables on which sat vases of fresh flowers picked from the gardens.

The whole room had a warm and friendly look.

But Marina felt anything but warm at that moment. Her stomach churned as she reached the drawing room doorway, then contracted at the sight before her eyes. James was standing in front of the fireplace, his arms around Tiffany. She had her head on his chest and she was weeping. Was that good news or bad?

‘Don't cry, Tiffany, love,' James was saying in soothing tones. ‘There's no reason to cry now, is there? You've done nothing to be ashamed of or feel guilty over. You're one of the sweetest, nicest girls I've ever known. And I still love you dearly. Don't distress yourself so. This is not the end of the world.'

Marina must have made some sound, for James glanced up and smiled an apologetic smile at her.

‘Sorry to send Talbot for you,' he told her gently, ‘but Tiffany was upset, as you can see. Though not about what you might be thinking,' he added. ‘I haven't had the opportunity to explain about us. Tiffany has been telling me about this man she met in Italy. And fell in love with…'

Marina's eyebrows shot up as her heart leapt with a combination of shock and delight.

Lady Tiffany, who was looking beautiful and fragile in a pale blue dress, drew back from James's arms and shot Marina a confused look. ‘Us?' she repeated, glancing from Marina back to James.

‘Yes, Tiffany,
us
,' he confessed firmly. ‘Marina and myself. Come over here, darling,' he said, and stretched out a beckoning arm towards her.

Marina's insides were trembling as she walked into its welcoming warmth, all her nerves and doubts disappearing as James gathered her to his side.

‘We fell in love with each other this past week,' he told Tiffany gently. ‘We didn't mean for it to happen any more than you meant to fall in love with your Italian. We tried to fight our feelings, but in the end fate conspired against us and we… Well I have to confess that our relationship has progressed beyond the platonic.'

Tiffany was definitely looking a little shell-shocked, but not at all shattered.

‘But I want you to know,' Marina added, ‘that till you rang James on Friday he was a perfect gentleman—and fiancé—in every way.'

‘I'm quite sure he was,' Tiffany agreed sincerely, then smiled up at him. ‘Oh, James, this is such wonderful news. You've made me feel so much better! There I was, terrified that along with losing your good opinion of me I might have broken your heart. But I can see that it is in very safe hands indeed. I could not hope for you to find someone any sweeter than
Marina, here.' And she came forward and kissed Marina on the cheek.

‘And what a lucky girl you are too, Marina,' Tiffany continued. ‘To have a man like James fall in love with you. I admire him more than any man I know. To be honest, I have hero-worshipped him since I was a little girl.'

‘Come now, Tiffany,' James muttered. ‘Don't go embarrassing me.'

‘What is embarrassing about my saying I have always loved you? For I have. And I still do. But I see now it is not the sort of love a wife should have for her husband. Just as the love you have for me is not the sort of love a husband should have for a wife.'

‘Tiffany, I—'

‘No, no, James, let me finish. I think Marina should hear this too.'

Marina was all ears. She had never heard anything she wanted to hear more.

‘I know about the solemn promise you made to Peter, how you vowed to look after me if ever anything happened to him. That was why you asked me to marry you in the first place, wasn't it? Because you thought I needed you by my side to protect me from this world. And I can understand why. I have been such a child. About everything. But I think I'm on the way to growing up a bit now.

‘My Italian taught me in a single hour what twenty-one years of being the naive child of my hopelessly old-fashioned and starchily staid parents could never
teach me. What true love was all about. What desire was. And passion!'

‘Tiffany!' James exclaimed, shock in his voice. ‘You haven't? You didn't? Not after one miserable hour with a man you'd just met?'

‘Oh, dearest James, of course not. I couldn't change the habits of a lifetime that quickly. But I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to. You and Marina must know what that is like, being in love yourselves.'

James was not going to be so easily mollified. Clearly he was also not about to forget that promise to Tiffany's brother. ‘That's all very well, but who
is
this man? Where did you meet him? Does he love you back?'

Tiffany's smile made her whole face light up. ‘He said he did. A hundred times. Oh, James, he is so wonderful. And so handsome. And so…so…'

‘Sexy?' Marina inserted mischievously.

Tiffany's high colour and slightly flustered state transformed her from her usual cool beauty to a creature of startling sensuality. Her Italian lover might not yet have taken her virginity, but he'd certainly given her innocence a nudge.

‘Yes,
very
sexy,' she admitted, and blushed even more furiously.

‘But can he look after you?' James demanded to know. ‘Has he a job? He doesn't know you're from a titled family, does he?'

Marina could only smile at this very male trait of looking first to financial matters. But she was glad James didn't seem to notice the change in the girl. He
must truly love
her
not to be affected by Tiffany's blossoming sexuality.

‘James, don't badger the girl!' Marina protested. ‘When are you going to see your Italian again, Tiffany?'

‘He'll be in London next week,' she said excitedly. ‘His family are in fashion. The Ferruccis. You must have heard of them. They own an exclusive label, with boutiques all over the world, so I don't think you have to worry about Marco being a gold-digger, James, dear.

‘Besides, we Ravensbrooks don't have that much money left anyway. My father's already frittered away most of the family's fortunes. Why do you think I have a job as a tour guide over at Bellham Castle? Any man marrying me certainly won't be marrying me for my money!'

James frowned. ‘He's asked you to marry him already?'

‘No, of course not. But he will,' she said, with all the confidence of the young and inexperienced.

Marina was not about to disillusion her by saying that men didn't always ask the girls they said they loved to marry them. They
made
love to them. But that was a different matter entirely.

Marina's thoughts suddenly struck closer to home. James claimed he loved her—and she really didn't doubt that—but his claim hadn't been accompanied by an offer of marriage. Of course he'd hardly had the opportunity, but maybe he never would. Maybe
his loving her was not going to be enough to take them to the altar together. Not in
his
world.

A knot of immediate tension formed in Marina's stomach. Was it all too good to be true?

Tiffany stayed a little while longer, chattering away about her gorgeous Italian, who had been a guest at one of the pre-wedding parties and then at the wedding itself, where he hadn't minded her purple bridesmaid dress at all. Probably because his family's bridal boutique in Rome had provided all the clothes for the wedding party.

He wasn't a relative of the bride and groom. Or a personal friend. In fact the bride and groom hadn't been aware of his true identity. To them he'd been merely the man from the bridal boutique who was contacted when one of the dresses hadn't shown up.

The bride's mother had been so impressed with his helpfulness and charm that she had impulsively invited him to both the pre-wedding party that night and the wedding itself. It was Tiffany who was to later find out he was one of the famed Ferruccis, although he had modestly declined her wish to tell all and sundry. He'd said he was enjoying being treated like a nobody.

‘I have heard the name Ferrucci,' James said, still not sounding happy. ‘But I know nothing of the family. I'm also not sure your folks will be happy with your getting mixed up with some Italian, Tiffany.'

‘They'll have to like it or lump it, I'm afraid. I'll be twenty-one next month. I think that's old enough to make my own decisions, don't you?'

Personally, Marina thought twenty-one was still awfully young. She'd been a right ninny at twenty-one.

And you're still a ninny,
that perverse voice piped up.
Thinking that the Earl of Winterborne was going to marry you!

‘I'd better be going,' Tiffany said. ‘But before I do I want to tell you how happy I am for you both. I think you're much better suited to James than me, Marina. You'll be able to stand up to him. And you're nice and tall as well. James always rather overawed me a bit.'

‘And your Italian doesn't overawe you?' James asked.

Tiffany's laugh was a little self-conscious. ‘Oh, yes, he does. Terribly. But in a different and rather delicious way. It…it's hard to explain,'

Marina knew exactly what Tiffany meant.

‘You be careful with this Italian fellow, Tiffany,' James warned. ‘Don't rush into things. Men of his ilk are used to girls coming across without their having to promise them anything.'

‘Oh, Marco's not like that,' Tiffany denied. ‘He's very passionate, but very sincere. He said he's prepared to wait for me for for ever, if necessary. But I don't think he'll have to wait as long as that.' And she winked at them both.

When James scowled, Tiffany laughed. ‘Do stop worrying, James. I promise I won't do anything
you
wouldn't do with Marina. Now I simply must go. Walk me to the car, will you?'

They did, and waved her off. But once the car was out of sight Marina turned to him and voiced the mounting worry in her mind.

‘Interesting observation about the male gender you made just then,' she began, matter-of-factly, even though she felt nauseous inside. ‘So tell me—are you going to prove to be a man of that ilk you spoke of, who expects a girl to come across without him promising her anything? Is your so-called love for me just words, or are you going to put a decent proposal where your mouth is?'

‘Ahh,' he said. ‘Trust you to cut straight to the crux of the matter.'

‘It's the nature of the beast,' she agreed, rather tartly. ‘Well, James? Are you going to ask me to marry you or not? Because if you're not, then don't expect a repeat performance of last night. For all his miserliness, Shane at least gave me an engagement ring in exchange for my favours in bed!'

James glared at her for a moment, then took her arm and started propelling her down the front steps.

‘What? Where are you taking me? Take your hands off me and just answer the question, damn you!'

‘I will, when I'm good and ready,' he said curtly. ‘Now, do please shut that very loud mouth of yours for a few miserable seconds, will you? I do not want William, who is just over there washing the car, knowing my private business.'

‘No kidding?' she mocked. ‘Since when do the aristocracy care about their staff knowing their private business? Talbot already knows exactly what went on
in your room last night, and I'll warrant William has a pretty good idea too!'

‘Be quiet, woman, or by God I'll make more noise than you—and in a way that will have William and the rest of the household scandalised for a decade!'

‘Why, you're nothing but a bully!' she protested as he shepherded her across the lawn and down to the boatshed on the edge of the lake. Once there, he wrapped a solid arm around her waist, opened the door, hoisted her off her feet and carried her inside, then kicked the door shut behind him.

‘Tiffany was right to dump you,' she huffed and puffed. ‘Keep this manhandling stuff up and I'll dump you as well.'

‘The only one being dumped around here is
you
, Miss Loud Mouth.' And he dropped her onto an old divan in the corner.

She stared up at him as he stripped his sweater over his head and tossed it aside, then began with breathless speed on his trousers. ‘You wouldn't!' she gasped, despite her eyes being glued to his body and her pulse-rate accelerating like mad.

‘I surely would. So get your gear off as well, my dear future wife.'

‘Your what?'

‘You heard what I said.'