A Bad Enemy (11 page)

She had plenty of time to think. Since the start of the world, there had never been a longer day. The reporters tried a couple more times to persuade her to go out and talk to them, and pose for photographs, and eventually went away, thwarted and grumbling. Lisle was almost sorry to see them go, because at least their presence gave her a reason—an excuse to be uptight.

Gerard had given her an enquiring look when she came back from the library, and she had said merely, 'He's out of the office?, thankful when he didn't press her further.

Later Gerard himself went out, to pay his respects to the village local and its hand-pumps, but she refused his invitation to accompany him.

Alone, she sat, trying to come to terms with what had happened, although she could still scarcely believe it. Could it be like that—could your whole life change irrevocably in just a matter of hours? She had always expected to learn to love, to be aware of its slow growth out of liking over a period of time. No one had ever warned her that it could flower inside her with such swift and overwhelming passion. Yet from the first moment, she had been conscious of that stark, unwilling attraction towards Jake. It had disturbed and harassed her, forcing her to behave out of character a dozen times and more. The fight had been on from the start, but her adversary had been herself.

Lisle groaned aloud. What an appalling, shattering mess she was in—in love with a man who openly despised her, even though her body had roused a transient desire in him, and involved with him in this farce of a fake relationship.

It was as if fate had suddenly turned on her with sharp teeth and claws to tear and rend her.

Gerard phoned later to say that he had met an old friend in the pub, and was going to play squash, 'to sweat out the jet-lag,' as he put it.

Lisle pulled on a jerkin and went for a walk through the fields. The house, which had always been such a sanctuary, seemed suddenly a box, its walls closing in on her. She could breathe better out in the air, but the slightly dank mist which was rising did little to raise her spirits.

She walked mechanically, almost unaware of her surroundings, her mind running on wheels round a well-worn and painful track.

If Murray lived, there would be increasing pressure from him to bring about a marriage between Jake and herself, and although Jake would eventually find some way out for them both, it was going to be an agonisingly difficult and embarrassing process.

If Murray died, and that was something she had to face too, then the problem of the engagement would be solved immediately.

But whatever happened, there would be heartache for her.

She had had to escape from the house because it held too many painful memories already. She had sat in the drawing room, twisting with pain as she remembered being there with him, his kisses warm and seductive on her body, trying not to think of him with Cindy Leighton in the familiar privacy of the fiat she should have guessed they shared.

She should have realised too that they would be together. If Cindy was departing for the States soon, then it was obvious that she and Jake would snatch every opportunity to be with each other. She wondered if Cindy knew the truth, about the supposed 'engagement, and remembering the expression in her eyes when they'd met the previous day, and the tabloid interview which Gerard had mentioned, thought it was probable that she did.

Perhaps they had even laughed about it together, secure in a relationship which did not need the convention of marriage, allowing them to enjoy each other without commitment. For a girl with a bright new career awaiting her, and a man who admitted openly that he was not interested in marriage, it was an ideal arrangement.

But not for me, Lisle thought wretchedly. I couldn't accept that kind of relationship.

But if that was all there was, whispered an inward voice slyly, you'd take it, then, and be thankful. Half a loaf has always been better than no bread at all.

Yet how would she have felt, she asked herself miserably, if she had given herself to him the other night, only to watch him go back to his mistress the following day? That would have been a hideous situation, leaving her pride, her self-respect in ruins.

To be taken, and then see him walk away, would be unbearable. But what would it be like, during this ghastly sham of an engagement, to be with him, yet always on guard against the betrayal of her deepest feelings? They couldn't always be metres apart. They were supposed to be promised in marriage, and people would, expect them to seek each other out, to touch, even to kiss.

She stood still in the middle of the field, looked up at the lowering sky already greying into evening and said savagely, 'Oh hell!'

She trudged to the nearest gate and let herself out oh to the lane. It was time she was getting back. Gerard would be wondering where she was, and if they were late at the hospital, Murray would be worried.

When she heard the car's engine behind her, she simply stepped on to the verge and walked on without even lifting her head, until she realised suddenly that its lines were familiar, and that it was slowing and stopping.

There was nowhere to run to, nowhere she could hide. In the pockets of her jerkin, her fists clenched convulsively, then relaxed.

Jake got out and stood beside the car, stripping off his driving gloves, waiting for her to come up to him.

Lisle felt as if her high russet boots were weighted with lead. She stood, and looked at him gravely, her chin high, the green eyes questioning.

'Walking home?' Jake asked. 'I'll give you a lift.'

'I'd rather walk,' she said quietly.

His face hardened instantly. 'And I'd rather you drove—with me. Get in.' He opened the passenger door.

Wearily she sank on to the seat and waited tensely for him to join her.

He said, 'Didn't you notice it had started to rain?'

'Rain doesn't bother me that much.' It was true, but in the warmth of the car, her jerkin suddenly felt damp and clammy, and she shivered slightly. Jake sighed and reached into the back of the car, dragging forward a black leather coat which had been lying across the seat.

'Here,' he said brusquely, 'put this round you.'

'I'm quite all right…' she began.

'Take it—or are you afraid of contamination?' She heard the sneer in his voice, and her lips tightened. She draped the coat round her shoulders, and sat looking rigidly ahead.

He commented, 'You seem surprised to see me.'

'I am. I thought I asked you to go.'

'You didn't ask anything, beauty, you told me, and that's an entirely different matter.' He started the car and it moved forward. 'I came principally to see what you wanted.'

'What I wanted?' she stared at him.

'Why, yes. Brenda Pearce told me you'd rung the office today, and I presume the anonymous call to the flat later was also made by you. You should have held on,' he added sardonically, 'I was only in the shower.'

Lisle bit her lip, hating the intimate picture his words conjured up. 'There was really no need to make a special trip,' she said. 'I only wanted to ask—why you'd announced our—our engagement, without even consulting me.'

'I did it because Murray insisted,' he said. 'I think he suspects our hearts aren't really in this manufactured courtship. As for consulting you, there seemed little point when I already knew what you'd say. I take it that I was right,' he added, after a pause. 'You weren't ringing to congratulate me on my initiative?'

'No, I wasn't,' Lisle snapped. 'Do you realise we've had a stack of journalists on the doorstep all morning?'

He looked amused. 'I thought you might. What did you tell them?'

'No comment.'

He laughed. 'You learn fast, beauty.'

'Not through choice.' That damned coat seemed to enfold her as closely as his arms, and she had to fight an impulse, to tear it off and fling it through the window.

'Your mood is a little sour, darling,' he said mockingly. 'I shall have to think of something to make you feel more bridal.'

Lisle turned her head away in case one of those swift, searching glances discovered something in her face she would prefer to remain hidden.

At last she said, 'You surely didn't drive all this way just to say that.'

'No, I didn't.' He was braking smoothly, bringing the car to rest at the side of the road, and Lisle stiffened instinctively.

Jake sighed. 'There's a most unflattering look of panic on your face, Miss Bannerman. Relax—I gave up making love in cars in my salad days.'

'I'm not interested in your reminiscences,' Lisle said tautly. 'Say what you came to say, and get back to—to London.'

Jake made an impatient, angry sound. He said wearily, 'All right, Lisle, we'll play this your way. Let me have your hand—the left one.'

She looked at him, her lips parted in bewilderment, and after a moment he reached across and pulled her hand towards him. The magnificent solitaire diamond flashed and glittered like a flame enclosed in ice as he slid it on to her finger.

'No!' Lisle said hoarsely, trying to tug herself free.

'Yes.' He did not release her. 'Murray expects it.'

'Of course,' she said bitterly. 'Just as Murray expected you to propose to me, just as he expected to see the notice in the papers. But what about me? Am I not supposed to have any feelings at all?' Her voice almost broke on a sob, then she added savagely, 'You will remember to call a halt to Murray's expectations eventually, I hope? Preferably before the honeymoon.'

'Well, we've established you don't care particularly for diamonds,' he said drily. 'But what have you got against honeymoons?'

Her shoulders sagged. 'In theory, nothing,' she said tiredly. 'I'm sure no marriage should be without one. It's just that I don't think I can take much more of this farce.' She looked at him, her green eyes wide and troubled. 'Please don't make me wear this ring.'

'You'd prefer emeralds? I'd wondered about that, myself…'

'No,' she interrupted heatedly, 'I don't want any kind of a ring!'

He shrugged. 'It's just a convention,' he said. 'I didn't realise it might offend your liberated principles.'

He was misunderstanding her quite deliberately, she thought bitterly. She took a deep breath. 'It's a convention observed by couples who are genuinely engaged to each other. We are not. We are pretending to be engaged to fulfil some obligation you owe to my grandfather. I think this ring carries the pretence a stage too far.'

Jake gave her an ironic look. 'That was a nice little speech. Have you been rehearsing it?

'Whether I have or not, I mean every word of it, and that's all that matters.'

'Not quite all,' he said. 'There's Murray. Like it or not, we've embarked on this sham together for his sake, and we're going on with it.'

'For how long?

'As long as it takes,' he assured her with grim emphasis. 'I'll take you to the hospital this evening, and when he sees the ring, he'll believe that I've started my wooing of you, and be satisfied. You can play your part by looking as if you've been swept off your feet just a little,' he added cynically.

Lisle looked down at the cold glitter on her hand. 'Naturally.' Her tone was dry. 'No doubt I slipped on the ice.'

He grinned. 'You're getting the idea, beauty,' he said approvingly, and the car moved forward again.

Gerard was coming down the stairs, as Lisle walked into the hall, Jake following closely behind her. She stopped when she saw him, and Jake paused too, putting a hand on her shoulder to steady himself.

Gerard smiled. 'Hello, young lovers,' he remarked. He looked at the ring, and his brows rose. 'Goodness, I didn't know they'd sold off the Koh-i-noor!'

Lisle gave a taut smile. 'Perhaps you'd get Jake a drink. I'll warn Petey that there's one extra for dinner.'

That accomplished, she went up to her room. For a long, long moment she stood in front of the full-length mirror studying herself minutely, then she went into the bathroom and ran herself a swift scented bath. The warm water relaxed her and took the chill from her tense limbs, and she towelled herself briskly until her body glowed. There was a favourite dress hanging in her wardrobe, stark black in a soft fine woollen material, long-sleeved, full-skirted, with a deep scooped neck. Against it, her skin looked like a pearl, and she left her throat deliberately bare, fastening the delicate diamond drops which had been Murray's gift to her on her twenty-first birthday into her ears. Her hair, brushed until it gleamed, she left loose on her shoulders.

The tension in the air was like a physical assault when she entered the drawing room, although on the surface everything looked calm, even amicable.

Gerard's smile looked as if it had been painted on as he greeted her. 'A glass of sherry, my sweet?'

She smiled her thanks and sank down gracefully on to the chesterfield, crossing her legs elegantly as she did so. She hadn't missed the sudden arrested expression on Jake's face as he'd turned to look at her, or the heated flare behind the grey eyes, and she felt an inward glow of satisfaction. He had told her to play her part, and she intended to.

'What have you been talking about?' she enquired lightly as she accepted her drink from Gerard.

Gerard grimaced. 'Harlow Bannerman—and my part in its downfall.' He attempted for equal lightness of tone, but Lisle could hear the note of resentment underlying it. 'This must be my day for hearing home truths,' he went on. 'Odd, my horoscope didn't mention it this morning.'

She saw Jake flash him an impatient glance, and groaned inwardly. Gerard so often picked the damnedest moments to be whimsical.

'How did the squash go?' she intervened hurriedly.

'Paul won easily, I'm afraid. He's become indecently fit since the last time we played, given up smoking entirely, and joined United Joggers or some ghastly thing. I'm to tell you, by the way, that you've broken his heart.'

She said wryly, 'I think it will soon mend.' She'd known Paul all her life, liked him, flirted with him and held him firmly at a distance. He was a born Lothario, with one broken marriage already behind him.

'You've had a telephone call too,' Gerard went on silkily. 'Oliver Grayson, and none too pleased either. But that might have been just because he found he was talking to me.'