Stormspell (27 page)

Ruth came round to find herself lying on a sofa in an attractive green and gold painted sitting room. There was a window open nearby, and the breeze it admitted was cool and refreshing, restoring her strength and dispelling the feeling of giddiness which had preceded her loss of consciousness. Someone had removed her jacket, but she appeared to be alone in the room, and she expelled her breath unevenly, feeling the tears of pain and embarrassment prick her eyes. How could she have been so stupid? she asked herself bitterly. To faint on Mrs Crown's doorstep! It was so humiliating. She wanted to die with the shame of it all. What must she be thinking? What must Dominic be thinking? And what would Aunt Davina say when she found out?

With a sob of despair she tried to sit up. only to find herself pressed back again with a not ungentle firmness. 'Stay where you are,' Dominic told her harshly, coming round the couch to stand looking down at her. 'I'm sorry if my appearance shocked you. but how the hell was I to know I'd find you here?'

Ruth lay on the cushions, because it was easier to do so, but she moved her head anxiously from side to side. 'You don't understand,' she exclaimed. 'Aunt Davina sent me here. I—I'm supposed to buy those tickets you were supposed to be selling!'

Dominic came down on the edge of the couch beside her, and she had to shuffle herself as far across the soft leather as she could, to avoid contact with his hips. 'What was that?' he exclaimed, staring at her narrow-eyed, and with a feeling of helplessness she repeated what she had said.

'You—you see, Mrs Radcliffe told Aunt Davina some—someone had called, and I—I couldn't think of anything else.'

Dominic's expression grew brooding, as with an almost involuntary hand he smoothed the errant strands of hair back from her forehead. 'Why didn't you just tell her the truth?' he asked, his voice low and disturbing, and Ruth felt her response to his gentleness stir in the base of her stomach.

'You—you know why.' she got out chokily. 'I told you. There's no need for Aunt Davina to know about —about you—'

'So now you're getting yourself deeper and deeper into deception by concealing it?'

Ruth sighed. 'Not—not necessarily. As—as you're here, you could just sell me some tickets, if—if there are any available. I said they were for a ball, but they don't have to be. I mean, I could pretend I'd made a mistake. So long as yourmother doesn't know anything anything about it—'

'But she does,' he interrupted her dryly.

'She does?' Ruth was puzzled. 'You mean you've told her I'm here?'

'I didn't have to tell her. She saw for herself.' replied Dominic impassively apparently unable to resist the urge to tidy the silky strands from her nape, too. 'She spoke to you. Didn't you hear her?'

'You mean—you mean the woman behind you— that was your mother?' Ruth was horrified.

'I'm afraid so.'

'But—but,' Ruth struggled to recall what she could of the woman she had seen, 'she—she didn't seem old enough!'

'I'm sure she'll be very flattered to hear it.' remarked Dominic, with a wry smile. 'But I assure you that was the person you apparently came to see.'

'Oh, heavens.'

Ruth put up her arm to shade her eyes, trying desperately to cope with this new development. He was right; she should have told her aunt the truth. But that episode in her life was still too raw, too sensitive; and she had been unwilling to expose her own vulnerability. It had been easier to say nothing, to try and forget it, and in so doing erase the evidence of her childish infatuation.

'Stop it!'

Dominic's voice had deepened, and when she removed her arm to look up at him she saw the darkening emotion in his eyes. It didn't reassure her. She was too conscious of his power over her, but although she put out her hand in protest, his fingers moved purposely from her nape to follow the open neckline of her shirt.

'What am I going to do about you?' he demanded in a driven tone, his sensual touch probing beneath the clinging silk, to find the throbbing peak of her breast. His hands were cool and possessive on her skin, yet urgent as they parted her shirt to expose the swollen nipple, and Ruth, still weak and shaken, found it incredibly difficult to drag the two sides of her shirt together again.

'Your—your mother,' she articulated with difficulty. and his mouth assumed an ironic slant. 'Where —where is she? I—I must speak to her.'

'She's gone to get you a glass of water,' Dominic intoned flatly, watching as her shaking fingers struggled to fasten the buttons. 'Believe it or not, but she was concerned about you. She thinks you're rather sweet.'

Ruth completed her task, and shuffled up on the cushions, trying to get her bearings. Heavens. Mrs Crown could come in on them at any moment, and she must look an absolute sight. A hand at her nape assured her that her braids were still coiled in place, but she guessed her face was flushed, and the evidence of Dominic's outrageous behaviour was there in her eyes, if anyone chose to look for it.

'I—I thought you were supposed to be going to— to New York.' she said now, glancing about her for her jacket. Aunt Davina would be so shocked if she could see her, and six weeks of obedience to her aunt's dictates could not be shrugged aside.

'I was,' returned Dominic indifferently. 'I was on my way to the airport when you chose to drop at my feet.' His mouth twisted. 'Why are you wearing your hair like that? I don't like it.'

Ruth ignored this, concentrating her attention on his earlier statement. 'But you must have missed your flight!' she exclaimed, and he inclined his head laconically, as if it wasn't important.

'Oh. but that's awful!' she persisted, trying to keep her thoughts away from the warmth of his thigh against her leg, the long fingers resting only inches from her hand. 'I mean—what must your mother be thinking?'

Dominic shrugged his shoulders, and as he did so Ruth heard the sound of the door opening behind them. She guessed she was soon to find out for herself, and she was not surprised when Dominic got up from the couch to give his mother a faintly ironic glance.

Isobel Crown came round the couch to face the girl, and Ruth coloured anew at the ignominy of her position. However, Dominic's mother did not seem at all perturbed, and her smile was warm as she held out a glass of water.

'How are you feeling?' she asked, taking the seat her son had just vacated. 'I'm sorry if I appeared a little slow in recognising you. but Dominic had omitted to mention that you were in London.'

'Dominic.' echoed Ruth faintly, taking the glass and turning her face up to him. 'I'm afraid I—I don't understand—'

'Unlike you. I did tell the truth,' remarked Dominic lazily, his eyes meeting her startled ones in mocking audacity. 'Why not? My mother knows your name. What she didn't know was that you were Davina Pascal's niece.'

Ruth pressed her lips together to prevent them from trembling, and Isobel Crown shook her head sympathetically. 'You must not let my son upset you. Miss Jason.' she assured her. removing the untouched glass from her shaking hand. 'But of course we did know about you. and what you and your father did for Dominic, and I'd like to express our gratitude.'

Ruth didn't know what to say, and she looked reluctantly at Dominic again, seeking his assistance. How much had he told his mother? she wondered. What reason had he given for her being here? And now that Isobel Crown knew her identity, might she not reveal the truth to Aunt Davina?

'I told my mother that I didn't think your aunt was aware of our—association,' Dominic inserted now, with a wry grimace. 'I also admitted that I called on you yesterday evening, to assure myself of your— wellbeing.'

Ruth's tongue circled her lips. 'Did you?'

'Yes.' said his mother firmly. 'And I'm pleased to see that you've told your aunt at last.'

As Ruth cast another anxious look in Dominic's direction, he interceded again. 'She hasn't.' he said flatly. 'Quite the contrary, in fact. She told her aunt that I went to the house selling tickets for one of your charity balls!'

Isobel Crown looked astounded now, and Ruth felt terrible. 'I'm sorry.' she muttered uncomfortably. 'I didn't mean to—to involve you in any of this. And—and my aunt didn't think that—that Dominic. I mean. Mr Crown, himself came to - the door—'

'For God's sake, don't start calling me Mr Crown.' muttered Dominic grimly, before exchanging an impatient glance with his mother. 'She lied.' he declared shortly, thrusting his hands into his jacket pockets. 'She was-put on the spot, and she said the first thing that came into her head.' He sighed. 'It's my fault. I shouldn't have gone there in the first place.'

Isobel Crown surveyed both of them with faintly reproving eyes. 'I would agree with that.' she confirmed dryly. Then, to Ruth: 'Why didn't you tell your aunt the truth in the first place, my dear? Dominic's quite respectable. No one would have raised an eyebrow, you know. Not with your father as chaperon.'

'I don't think it matters why she did or she didn't.' Dominic retorted harshly. 'Either you're going to respect her confidence or you're not. Which is it to be?'

Ruth felt dreadful. She was responsible for the way Dominic was speaking to his mother, and she felt terribly guilty.

'I'm so sorry you've been involved in this. Mrs Crown.' she began unhappily, but now Isobel shook her head.

'No. Dominic's right. It's no business of mine why you chose to keep the matter to yourself.' She smiled. 'How old are you. my dear? How long is it since you last came to England?'

Ruth moved her shoulders a little jerkily. 'I don't remember how long ago we left England, but —but Daddy never came back. And—and I'm seventeen.'

'Mother!'

Dominic sounded exasperated now. raking back the silver-blond hair with agitated fingers, but his mother gave him a benign smile. 'Isn't it time you were leaving for the airport, darling?' she suggested, glancing at her wrist watch, and as Ruth acknowledged this with some surprise. Dominic explained.

'There is a later flight.' he informed her shortly. 'Come with me to the airport, and wish me a good trip.'

'I don't think that's a very good idea. Dominic.' his mother interceded smoothly. 'Didn't you invite Barbara to see you off? I hardly think—'

'Ruth knows about Barbara. Mother,' Dominic interrupted her sardonically. 'And no. I did not invite Barbara to the airport. As you may recall, we didn't part last evening on the best of terms.'

Isobel folded a pleat in her skirt, and gave Ruth a rather apologetic look. 'These young people.' she murmured, with a sigh. 'Always kissing and making up.'

Dominic's mouth had hardened perceptibly. 'All right.' he said. 'I'll go. I promised Jake I'd make that meeting in Newport tonight, and I will.' He paused. 'But you will ensure that Ruth gets home safely, won't you? And with a satisfactory explanation, hmm?'

'You can depend on me.' affirmed his mother, lifting her face for his kiss. 'Look after yourself, won't you. darling?' Her lips trembled for a moment. 'You're all I've got.'

Dominic squeezed her shoulder as he bent to kiss her cheek, and Ruth averted her gaze from the intimacy of their farewell. Then she forced a smile to her lips, as he strode towards the door, and wished with a foolish sense of regret that he had kissed her too.

There was a car parked in the Mews when Ruth returned from her driving lesson. It was a sleek grey sports car, and she guessed it belonged to one of Martin's friends. She could think of none of her aunt's associates who would drive a car like that, and she passed it admiringly as she approached the door. Perhaps, after she had passed her driving test. Aunt Davina would allow her to buy a car, although she doubted it would be anything as elegant as the silver- grey Porsche.

Entering the house, she slipped her key back into her pouch bag and began to remove her jacket as she climbed the stairs. She guessed Aunt Davina would be resting. She often rested in the afternoons, and Martin had gone to the race track again that morning. and was unlikely to be home yet. It was a week now since his first visit to the track, and his enthusiasm was wearing. Ruth knew her aunt hoped that familiarity would serve to blunt his devotion to the sport, but so far there was no sight of it waning.

Ruth had not been impressed when she accompanied him on that first occasion, but she acknowledged she had had other things on her mind. Her visit to Dominic's home had been exhausting, and her nerves were in no state to respond favourably to the sustained noise and confusion in the pits. She hadstill had that decidedly light-headed feeling, and a rather disgruntled Martin had brought her home sooner than he would have liked. He had not invited her to accompany him again, and she couldn't honestly blame him. In any case, she had no desire to repeat the experience, and appeased her conscience by listening politely to his experiences every evening, and sympathising when all did not go well.

Leaving the jacket of her velvet suit draped carelessly over the banister, Ruth entered the sitting room without hesitation, halting in confusion at the sight of her aunt seated on the couch, serving tea to her visitor. The sight of her aunt was surprising, but the identity of her visitor overshadowed all else, and Ruth had difficulty in preventing his name from spilling from her lips. For a week now she had struggled to put him out of her thoughts, but now here he was again, assaulting her emotions, and tearing aside her defences.

All the strength drained out of her, and she hardly heard her aunt's formal introduction. 'Of course, you know Mr Crown, don't you, Ruth? You met him last week at his mother's. He has very kindly called to assure himself that you're feeling better.'

Ruth clung to the door handle, aware that Dominic had got politely to his feet and was waiting for her to come and join them so that he could sit down again, but she didn't move. His audacity in coming here should not have amazed her. particularly after what his mother had told her, yet she found it hard to believe that he could do such a thing to her. Didn't he care what Aunt Davina might think —what his fiancee might think? And why was he pursuing her. when there were so many other girls in London?