A Bad Enemy (4 page)

She swallowed, steadying her hurried breathing. 'You have no right to say these things to me! What do you imagine my grandfather would think if he could hear you?'

'Murray hasn't been living in a vacuum for the past year or two,' he said. 'I don't think he suffers from many illusions, even about you. Love isn't always blind, you know. He probably wants to get you married off before some real disaster occurs. And as our paths hadn't crossed, I expect he hoped I wouldn't have heard of the reputation you were so busily garnering for yourself.'

Reputation, Lisle thought. If it wasn't so appalling, It would be almost funny. Because Gerard's accusations weren't so far from the truth. She couldn't explain it. It might be some kind of mental revulsion against her brother's inveterate womanising it might be that she had never met a man who appealed to her sufficiently, or even because of some basic unsuspected flaw deep within her personality, but she was still, at twenty-three, a virgin.

The coffee was cold now, and bitter, but even so she doubted if she could have lifted the cup without betraying how she was shaking. Jake was watching her closely—waiting for a confession, or some attempt at self-justification, she wondered furiously. Well, he'd wait for ever! she told herself, avoiding his intent gaze.

He said coolly, 'It's time we were going up to the ward. Sister was noncommittal but not particularly optimistic when I spoke to her, but he's conscious, and when he sees us together there'll be just one thing on his mind. Can I take it as read that you won't contradict me if I tell him we've just become engaged?'

She moistened dry lips. 'Will he believe it—as we've only just met?'

He shrugged one shoulder. 'If we were trying to convince him it was a love match, probably not. But as all three of us know the score, I think it will be a great relief to him that we're not wasting any time.'

'That's putting it mildly.' Lisle threaded the strap of her bag through her fingers. She managed an unsteady laugh. 'Just what am I being rushed into?'

'Well, certainly not marriage,' he drawled. 'I have no plans in that direction, and if I had they wouldn't include you, my dear Miss Bannerman. This is a pretence engagement, the sole purpose of which is to put your grandfather's mind at rest and reassure him about your future when he's no longer here to worry about you. So don't indulge in any fantasies that I've been swept away by your undoubted charms.' He stood up, and once again she was made unwillingly aware of his height, and the sheer domination of his personality. She had met a lot of successful men, but few of them had an iota of his undoubted physical attraction, and most of them by his age—mid-thirties, she judged— were already married and settled with families.

She walked silently beside him towards the lift, and still in silence rode up to the next floor where the intensive care unit was established.

It was like something out of a space odyssey, she thought uneasily, looking around her.

Sister in her sexless white gown was briskly reassuring. 'He's doing as well as pan be expected, that's all I can say,' she told them in her office. She gave a rich chuckle. 'He's certainly a bonny fighter, but he's been getting himself dangerously over-excited. He's been giving my young nurses hell because they wouldn't bring him a telephone trolley—the very idea! I had to speak severely to him,' she added tranquilly.

Lisle managed a wavering smile in return. She was sitting in a chair facing Sister's desk, and Jake was perched on the arm of it. She was acutely conscious of the warmth of his body near hers, and it had been all she could do not to draw away when he sat down so close to her.

Jake said calmly, 'I hope the good news we have for him won't have an adverse effect.'

'Anything that will stop him worrying so much can only do good.' Sister paused. 'Am I to take it that congratulations are in order?'

With a shock, Lisle felt Jake's hand cover hers, then lift it to his lips. It was only the briefest caress, but her flesh felt as if it had been seared with a brand.

'You've guessed our secret, Sister,' Jake, said softly. He looked down into Lisle's startled face, his tips smiling tenderly, but his grey eyes brilliant with mockery. 'As we're making no announcement yet, darling, we're going to have to try and hide our feelings for each other, at least in public.'

Through frozen lips, she managed, 'Yes.'

He bent towards her, and for one paralysed moment she thought he was going to kiss her on the mouth, and every nerve in her body reacted in tension. His touch on her hand had been ordeal enough, but to feel his lips on hers, caressing, exploring, parting, would be unendurable.

And he knew that quite well. Still holding her panic-stricken gaze with his, he drew back, his smile hardening sardonically. 'Shall we go and see Murray, my sweet?' Sister bustled out and they were left to follow.

Lisle's lips moved. 'I don't think I can go through with this.'

Jake rose. 'Oh yes, you bloody well can.' He took her arms, hauling her bodily out of her seat. 'Everyone is capable of one selfless act, and this is going to be yours. Murray is going to rest with a tranquil mind tonight because he knows that what he cares most about in the world—Harlow Bannerman and you—are both in safe hands. So smile, darling. Pretend I'm an important customer or that poor devil who was pawing you when I arrived at the flat.'

She said dazedly, 'Who…?' and saw the contempt flare again in his face.

He said half under his breath, 'No, I suppose you can't even remember his name. Heaven help any guy who falls hard for you, you little tease. Now look happy, and remember it's not for me, it's for Murray.'

But she was hard put to it to retain any semblance of cheerfulness when she stood by her grandfather's bed. She had never really understood what people meant when they talked about shadows of their former selves, but she knew now, because what seemed to be lying there was just a shadow of the man she loved. She sank her teeth into the softness of her inner lip as Murray Bannerman muttered something and opened his eyes. They had always been fiercely, intensely blue, but now that fire seemed muted, and his voice no more than a gruff whisper.

'Darling girl—so you came. And Jake. That's good. Good.'

She was amazed to hear how normal her voice sounded. 'Of course we're here. Don't try to talk. Everything's going to be fine.'

'Fine,' he repeated, and the faded eyes sought hers in a kind of entreaty. 'You and Jake.'

'Yes,' she said, her tone firming. 'He—he spoke to me about it, and although it was—rather a shock, I can see it would be best—for the company and for everyone, so I've agreed. I will marry him.'

The moment she'd spoken, she wished she hadn't used those particular words. At this moment, and in the presence of a man who could be dying, they savoured too closely of some kind of oath, the precursor to some future ritual where she and Jake would be made one, and she shivered suddenly.

Jake said, 'I'm going to take her away now, Murray, take her home, and let you get some rest. But we'll be back in the morning. Sleep well.'

Lisle felt the pressure of his hand on her arm, and turned away, fighting sudden blinding tears. He looked so frail, she thought in agony. What guarantee was there that he would see another morning, or know that they would return to share it with him?

She knew Jake was watching her, his dark brows drawn together in a frown of genuine concern, and as they walked to the lift, she fought a superhuman battle for control of her emotions and won. She hated him. She wanted nothing from him, especially his compassion.

They reached the ground floor and the doors opened silently, Jake standing aside to allow her to precede him.

Lisle said rapidly, 'There's a public telephone over there. Would you mind calling me a taxi, please.'

'There's no need for that,' he said brusquely. 'You're coming with me.'

'Oh, please!' Just for a moment her tone veered towards slight hysteria. 'How far do we have to carry this farce? Grandfather can't see us now, or know that we've gone our separate ways.'

His brows lifted. 'I was looking at the situation rather more practically. As we're both going to the Priory, one vehicle is surely quite sufficient.'

She looked at him stupidly, his words registering in some distant recess of her mind. 'You—you're staying at the Priory?'

'I told you I was staying there,' he said impatiently.

'I'd forgotten.' She gave herself a mental shake. 'Not that it matters. I can go to a hotel.'

'Like hell you can,' he said grimly. 'The Petersons are expecting you, and your old room has been prepared. What am I to tell them if you don't turn up? That your aversion to me is so great you can't face spending a night or two under the same roof?'

'You're the one with the instant solutions to everyone's problems,' she shot at him. 'You think of something.'

'I already have,' he returned. 'You're coming to the Priory with me, if it means I have to kick your charming backside every step of the way to the car.'

Lisle was going to say, 'You wouldn't dare,' but the words shrivelled in her throat as she realised there was very little if anything that Jake Allard wouldn't dare.

'Very wise,' he approved sardonically, reading her sudden silence with perfect accuracy. 'What a tragedy you weren't the man of the family. You have an infinitely better nose for danger than Gerard has. Now come on. Mrs Peterson promised she'd have supper waiting for us whatever time we got there.'

'Oh, I'm sure she's had her orders,' Lisle said scornfully. 'But don't you think you're being a little premature—coming on like the master of all you survey? You're not in the driving seat yet.'

'Perhaps not,' he said silkily. 'But when I am, my copper-haired vixen, you're going to be the first one to know.'

Lisle tossed her head angrily, and giving him a look in which frustrated rebellion and sheer venom were mixed about equally, went ahead of him into the darkness. 

The Priory was only a few miles' drive away, and as the car drew up on the gravelled sweep in front of the house, Lisle could see the massive double doors already opening to reveal Mrs Peterson's anxious figure in the stream of light from the hall.

'Oh, Miss Lisle!' Mrs Peterson's arms clasped her to her ample bosom. 'What a homecoming for you, my dear! But he'll get over it, don't you fret. He'll see us all out, I shouldn't wonder.'

Lisle smiled faintly as she kissed the plump cheek. 'Sister says he's a bonny fighter, Petey.'

'Hasn't he always been?' Mrs Peterson smiled at Jake. 'Good evening, sir, and thank you for bringing her. I've laid supper in the small dining room—it's cosier for two. I'll go and see to the soup while Peterson takes Miss Lisle's case up to her room.'

Lisle had been about to intervene, and say she couldn't eat a thing and would prefer to go straight to her room, but at the mention of soup, hunger betrayed her. She knew Petey's soups of old, made from bone and marrow stock and thick with fresh vegetables. Even Jake's presence across the table couldn't take the edge off such delights, she thought, realising how empty she was. No wonder, really. All she'd consumed since a light lunch had been a gin and tonic, a few canapés, and a cup of coffee at the hospital.

She washed and tidied her hair in the downstairs cloakroom, but left her face innocent of make-up. The last thing she wanted was Jake Allard to think she was employing any deliberate arts to attract him.

When she went into the drawing room, he was standing in front of the log fire, whisky and soda in hand. He said, 'May I get you something?'

'The perfect host,' she said on a jeering note. 'No, thanks.' Alcohol might help her to relax, she thought, but it was more important to keep all her wits about her.

He said, 'You have a very beautiful home.'

'Indeed I have,' she agreed. 'I'm surprised you haven't persuaded Grandfather to sell it to you, along with everything else.'

Jake looked amused. 'I still might.'

'No, you won't,' she said with satisfaction. 'The Priory comes to me in Grandfather's will. Gerard gets his collection of pictures, the London flat and half the money. He showed us both when he drew the will up a few years ago.'

His brows rose in mocking acknowledgment. 'Very businesslike. And how reassuring to know exactly where you stand.'

'Indeed it is.' Lisle drew a deep breath. 'And I hope I don't have to inherit for at least ten years, if not twenty.'

The mockery was wiped away. He said soberly, 'I wouldn't count on it, Lisle.'

'Don't say that!' She shook her head in violent negation.

'Like you, I hope he lives for ever,' he said quietly. 'But we need to be realistic.'

She didn't want realism. She wanted the comfort and reassurance that her grandfather had represented since she was a small child. Without, him, she thought confusedly, she would be totally bereft. If the worst did happen, she would leave London and come to live here in the house she loved. Her inheritance should ensure an adequate income, and she could live within it as long as she wasn't extravagant. She wouldn't really regret the loss of her job in the public relations department at Harlow Bannerman. She hadn't been a roaring success there, although she'd often felt she might have been if she'd only been given a chance. But nothing exacting, nothing that might stretch her mind and get the best out of her had ever come her way. The Bannerman name had always been there like a barrier. They had treated her like an unpredictable toddler, treading warily round her, and feeding her the odd unimportant sweet to keep her quiet. They had written her off as useless before she had even got there, she thought resentfully, and no one had ever bothered to discover what her capabilities were since.

She thought, without surprise, that it was probably from the PR department that the rumours about her sexual favours to customers had first emanated. She couldn't pretend that she was the flavour of the month with many of her colleagues. In fact, she heard herself described as 'Lady Muck' on more than one occasion when they thought she was out of the way. At the time, it had hurt, but she had made herself laugh it off. She was Lisle Bannerman, and nothing they could say could touch her.