A Bad Enemy (9 page)

Lisle thought Oliver still heard from her occasionally. Certainly he seemed to harbour no bitterness towards her, and there were no children for them to squabble over.

She thought Oliver would probably have made quite a nice father, and in fact could still do so. If he remarried, he might well want to start a family.

She bit her lip hard. She must stop casting Oliver in these roles, she thought. He was attractive and reliable and certainly one of the cornerstones of Harlow Bannerman, but she had never considered him in the light of a future husband before, or anyone else either, if it came to that.

She was letting Murray's ridiculous suggestion completely unnerve her, and it wasn't necessary. The engagement was only a fake, and there would be no marriage. After all, what had Jake said? '
I have just as little taste for you as you have for me
.' That was her safeguard.

But after last night, just how safe was it?

He had wanted her badly, and she had been going quietly crazy in his arms when Gerard's call had interrupted them, and she found herself wondering how she would have felt if there had been no phone call, and she had let him make love to her there on the rug, and perhaps later up in his room. She pushed the thought resolutely away. There was no profit in that kind of speculation.

The car positively gleamed when she had finished, and she felt proud of her handiwork as she re-coiled the hose, and put the wax polish and the cloths back in the garage. Her grandfather's Jaguar gleamed in the shadows, and she wondered with a pang whether Murray would ever sit behind the wheel again.

She was passing through the hall on her way to the stairs when she heard Jake's car pull up. She took the stairs two at a time. She felt windblown and grimy after her exertions, and she didn't want to face him. At least not yet. Mrs Peterson was serving dinner before they were due to go to the hospital, and during the meal she would try and persuade him that there was nothing he could usefully achieve by remaining at the Priory.

It wasn't even as if she was going to be alone there with the Petersons, because Gerard would be arriving that evening, which was another excellent reason for Jake to return to London.

She pulled off her sweater, tossed it on the bed and walked into the bathroom to wash. When she returned to her bedroom a few moments later, it was to find Jake lounging on the end of her bed, waiting for her.

'Get out of here!' she snapped furiously, snatching up the guernsey and holding it in front of her.

He looked her over, the firm mouth mocking, the dark brows lifted in exaggerated surprise, his gaze lingering pointedly on her tied-back hair, the patched jeans, and the well-scrubbed face.

'What's the new image?' he drawled. 'A regression to adolescence?'

'What am I supposed to wear to wash a car?' she snapped defensively. 'Ermine and pearls? And perhaps next time you'd knock at my door, instead of just barging in!'

'I did knock,' he said, 'but you had the taps running. You can't have heard me. Anyway, why the sudden modesty?' Lisle was tugging the sweater over her head. 'There's nothing the matter with my memory.'

'And there was I thinking it was all a bad dream.' Lisle lifted her chin and stared at him. 'I presume you have something to say to me. Perhaps you'd say it and go.'

'So it's blunt speaking you're after,' he said reflectively. 'Very well. Lay off Oliver Grayson. He isn't fair game.'

Colour burned in her face. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

He sighed. 'You had lunch with him today-remember?

'Oliver happens to be an old friend,' she said stiffly.

'Lucky Oliver,' he said jeeririgly. 'No wonder he couldn't keep his hands off you. But it won't do, Lisle. He's a decent guy with one bad marriage already behind him. You're not going to screw his life up the second time around.'

'I've no intention of doing so.' She was shaking with temper.

'Well, you made a good start today,' he said derisively. 'Our subsequent meeting was a shambles. He wasn't thinking straight at all, and one didn't need to be Mastermind to guess who'd tied the poor man in knots. That's one of your specific talents, beauty.'

'Please don't call me that,' she said freezingly.

'Why not? You are beautiful—when you aren't using that enticing little body like a weapon.'

'And how does Miss Leighton use hers? Like a free gift?' She stopped dead, horrified. Her colour deepened. 'I'm sorry,' she apologised tautly. 'That was— indefensible. You seem to bring out the worst in me.'

'There seems plenty of it to bring out,' he returned drily.

Lisle was silent for a moment, mortified. Then she said huskily, 'I think it's time you stopped interfering in my life.'

'Stopped?' His brows rose. 'I haven't even started yet. And if we're talking about interference, perhaps you'd keep your delicate nose out of Harlow Bannerman's affairs.'

'I do work there.' She glared at him.

'There are various schools of thought on that subject,' he said softly. 'But I didn't mean the alleged labours for which you are so generously salaried. I meant your extra mural activities in the past twenty-four hours. The phone call to your brother warning him to get his chestnuts out of the fire, for instance, not to mention your lunch with Grayson.'

A dull flush rose in her cheeks. 'I've told you…'

'And I'm telling you,' he said flatly. 'You're wasting your wiles, beauty. Oliver Grayson is bought and paid for, and it would take a damned sight more than having you in his bed for him to transfer his allegiance from myself to your brother. I presume that was the purpose of today's exercise?'

'Presume what the hell you like,' she said shortly, reflecting bitterly on the rotten luck which had brought them all together in the same restaurant. 'You think you have everything cut and dried, don't you, but being too sure of yourself can be dangerous. You surely don't imagine that Gerard is just going to sit back and see control of the company just vanish from his grasp?'

'This sisterly devotion is becoming absurd,' he said wearily. 'Gerard has never had control of Harlow Bannerman in his life, and nor will he ever have it. If it wasn't me, it would be someone else, but not your brother. He's wasted too many resources, upset too many people. The family name doesn't mean a great deal when there's no trust,' he added cynically.

She swallowed. 'So—what's going to happen to him, if you get your way?'

Jake shrugged. 'That's largely up to him, Lisle. He hasn't pulled his weight so far, and he's unlikely to change, no matter how big a fright he's had. He's had a number of warnings in the past, from your grandfather and others, and he's ignored all of them, so he can't hope for a great deal in the future. But I daresay he'll stay on in some capacity, somewhere where he can't do a great deal of damage.'

'I see.' Lisle was silent for a moment. 'And what's going to happen to me?'

He shrugged almost negligently. 'Nothing's been decided yet,' he countered.

'Really?' She sent him an amazed smile. 'Well, be sore and tell me as soon as it is. And now perhaps you'll get out of this house,' she added unevenly. 'Gerard will be back later tonight.'

'And you're afraid of a confrontation?' he asked mockingly. 'I had the impression that you loved them.'

'I don't have to explain to you,' she said. 'You're a guest under this roof, Mr Allard, and an increasingly unwelcome one. Surely that's enough.

'More than enough.' He stood up slowly. 'But don't you think Murray will wonder where I am—in the circumstances?'

'I'll think of some story that will satisfy him. After all, you're a very busy man. He wouldn't expect you to be dancing attendance here for ever.'

'Not on my future wife?' he enquired sardonically, and Lisle flushed angrily.

'Can we please forget that nonsense?' she requested tautly. 'It may amuse you… '

'It doesn't particularly,' he said. 'And it may not be as instantly forgettable as you seem to think. Unless you want Murray to have a relapse by telling him it's all a sham.'

'Of course I don't,' she denied heatedly. 'But-oh, all this could have been so easily avoided. Why couldn't you have been honest with him when he first mentioned it—told him—well, told him there was Cindy Leighton?'

He looked faintly amused. 'I didn't think it was necessary. Knowing Murray, he's probably aware of her existence anyway, but why should he care? He may be straitlaced, but he's also a realist. And Cindy is no more interested in marriage than I am,' he added sardonically. 'In case that was worrying you.'

'I'm neither worried nor interested,' she said at once. 'Your—love affairs are no concern of mine.'

His smile widened. 'One of them nearly became your—intimate concern, last night,' he reminded her.

She looked back stonily. 'That is something else I'd like to forget.'

Jake laughed out loud. 'Well, that shouldn't be too difficult. There wasn't a great deal to remember.'

Not for you, she thought. Nor for you. For you—just another female body—another available girl. And if it didn't happen as you planned, then that's not important either, because there'll be plenty of other willing ladies to console you even after Cindy Leighton has gone to the States.

Just for a moment, the knowledge caused her a pain so sharp that she nearly cried out, then she was under control again, except for a deep inner trembling that she was unable to explain to herself. Or deny.

Someone else's voice seemed to say, 'That's true. Well, goodbye, Mr Allard. It's been—educational, if nothing else.'

'It has indeed,' he agreed. 'And it's not over, either.'

When he had gone, Lisle sat down on the floor, staring in front of her, as if she'd been asleep, and woken to find herself in a strange and hostile landscape. There was a new and horrifying possibility clamouring for attention in her mind and she did not want to hear what it was telling her, or even acknowledge its existence.

Because it wasn't true. It couldn't be true.

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, looking as if mesmerised at the rumpled coverlet on the bed which evidenced where Jake had been sitting, remembering with hungry candour the lean graceful shape of his body, and wondering with despair if she would ever be able to look at him, or be in his presence again without the memory of its naked warmth and strength against her own, to torment her.

Murray was openly sulky when Lisle visited him alone that evening.

'Where's Jake?' was his opening remark when she entered his room, and it was clear that her carefully worded phrases about 'Urgent business in London' and being 'called away at the last moment' cut very little ice.

She held his hand. 'Aren't I good enough for you any more?' she asked, teasing but a little troubled at the same time.

'Of course,' he said a little testily. 'But damn it, girl, I want you to get to know each other. There might not be all that much time left, and I want to see you married before—before…'

She lifted his hand to her cheek, her mouth trembling. 'Don't talk like that—please. You're going to be all right. You're much better. Anyone can see that.'

He looked at her as if he didn't see her. 'It should have been Gerard,' he said half to himself, 'but he isn't fit. I knew it, but wouldn't admit it. Far better if I had. But it's not too late. The Bannerman line will go on. Your children and Jake's—they'll carry the thing on, one day. That's the answer, and I have his word on it.'

Lisle heard him with dismay, wondering if she ought to press the buzzer for a nurse, but then he seemed to relax, and started to talk about something else in a normal tone, as if he had purged himself of his obsession at least for the time being, and the rest of her time with him passed without incident.

As she drove up to the house, she noticed there seemed to be lights on all over it, and as she entered the hall, she was aware of the loud chatter of the television in the drawing room.

Gerard was sprawled in one of the armchairs, glass in hand. He looked tired and bad-tempered.

'So there you are,' he greeted her fretfully. 'That was one hell of a flight!'

'When did you get in?' Lisle walked across and added another log to the fire.

He shrugged. 'A couple of hours ago—perhaps more.'

'It didn't occur to you to go straight to the hospital.' Lisle dusted off her hands and straightened, facing him.

'Frankly, no,' he said. 'I wanted a word with you first to find out how the land lies. You weren't the soul of clarity on the phone, you know.'

She said woodenly, 'Grandfather's had another coronary, but he's responding well to treatment. That's as much as I know.'

'Not that,' Gerard said irritably. 'Although naturally I'm relieved that the news is so good. What I need to know is what that damn Allard has been up to.

Lisle gave him a level look. 'I hope that drink was strong, because you're going to need it.'

When she had finished her recital, he began to swear, a long, monotonous stream of obscenity which made her flinch. He hurled his glass against the mantelpiece, smashing the fragile tumbler into tiny fragments. Then he sat for a long time holding his head in his hands. When at last he looked at her, his face was as beautiful and as ravaged as a fallen angel's.

He said hoarsely, 'What the hell do I do?'

She knelt on the rug, collecting the broken glass into the palm of her hand with meticulous eare. 'What can either of us do? We'll be lucky if we're both still working by this time next week.'

'That won't matter much to you, of course,' he said, and laughed suddenly. 'A marriage has been arranged— my word, how true! How very true. There's your new career, sweetie, just waiting for you to step into it. Mrs Jake Allard—the official title holder. There've been plenty of unofficial ones, but I don't suppose you'll mind that.'

She said with stiff lips, 'Not in the slightest, as there isn't going to be a marriage.'

'No?' He watched her smiling. 'I wouldn't be too sure— especially if Murray is recovering as well as you say. He's got something to live for now—his first grandson, out of Harlow Bannerman, by Allard International. He'll be able to set up his own private stud book.'