Innocent on Her Wedding Night
Sara Craven

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Former journalist SARA CRAVEN published her first novel ‘Garden of Dreams’ for Mills & Boon in 1975. Apart from her writing (naturally!) her passions include reading, bridge, Italian cities, Greek islands, the French language and countryside, and her rescue Jack Russell/cross Button. She has appeared on several TV quiz shows and in 1997 became UK TV Mastermind champion. She lives near her family in Warwickshire – Shakespeare country.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Endpage

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

AS THE lift began its journey to the fourth floor, Laine Sinclair put down her bulky travel bag, flexing cramped fingers, and sagged back against the metal wall.

Adrenalin had got her this far, fuelled largely by anger and disappointment, but now, with sanctuary almost within reach, the savage energy was draining out of her, reminding her that she was jet-lagged and that her damaged ankle, in spite of its rudimentary bandaging, hurt like hell.

Home, she thought longingly, raking a hand through her light sun-streaked hair. Home, bath—and bed. Especially bed. Maybe she’d wait long enough to make herself a hot drink. Probably she wouldn’t.

There’d be no one around at the flat. Jamie would be at work, and it wasn’t one of the cleaner’s days. So there’d be no cosseting, however much she might need it.

But there would be absolute peace and quiet, and the opportunity to sleep off some of her stresses and strains before the inquisition started.

She could hear it now. What are you doing back here? What happened to the boat charter business? And where’s Andy?

At some point she would have to come up with the answers to all that, and more, but she’d worry about that when she had to. And that, she thought, was not yet.

And at least Jamie, with his own chequered career, was unlikely to say I told you so.

The lift stopped, and as the doors slid open she hefted her bag on to her shoulder, and stepped into the corridor, wincing as her ankle protested.

She fumbled in her travel belt for her latch key. She hadn’t intended to take it with her. It was to have been left behind, like a symbol of her old life.

Not needed on voyage, she thought, her mouth twisting. And how ironic was that?

She let herself in, put down her bag, and stood, looking appraisingly around her at the big living room which, with the galley kitchen opposite her, formed the flat’s neutral territory. Two en-suite bedrooms faced each other across the shared space, ruled by their own strict privacy laws. A system that worked, and generally worked well.

She noted, brows raised, that the flat seemed unusually tidy for once, with none of the empty wine bottles, crumpled newspapers and takeaway cartons that marked her brother’s normal passage through life when she wasn’t there to prevent it.

Maybe all that persistent nagging had paid off at last. And at least she wouldn’t have to clear a path to get to her own immaculate bedroom.

But on that thought dawned two others. First—that the door to her room was standing open, when it should be closed. Secondly—that she could hear someone moving around inside.

Well, what do I know? she thought wearily. I haven’t been here for over a month. Maybe Mrs Archer’s changed her hours, and that’s why the place is almost hygienic for once.

Her lips parted to call out—to establish her presence and reassure—but the words were never uttered. Instead, her bedroom door was flung wide, and a stark naked man walked out into the living room.

Laine shrieked. Closing her eyes, she took a too-hasty step backwards and stumbled against her abandoned bag, ricking her ankle again, and sending a shaft of pain up her leg which made her teeth ache in sympathy.

The interloper said something that combined blasphemy and obscenity in one gracefully drawled phrase, then vanished back into the room he’d just left.

Leaving Laine standing there as if she’d been turned to stone, a small frightened voice in her head whispering a beseeching No—oh, no … over and over again.

Because she knew that voice. Knew it as well as she knew her own, even though she’d never expected to hear it again.

The body she hadn’t recognised from that brief glimpse, but then she’d never seen it less than partially clothed before.

However, she was in no doubt at all over the intruder’s identity. In which case, she thought shakily, grabbing at her bag, she was on her way out of here.

She was halfway to the door when she heard his voice again, reaching her across the room.

‘Elaine.’ The hated full version of her name, pronounced with a kind of weary disdain. ‘Of all the people in the world. What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Daniel?’ Somehow she made herself say it. Utter it aloud. ‘Daniel—Flynn?’

She turned back slowly and carefully, dry-mouthed, noting with relief that at least he had a towel draped round his hips this time, as he stood in her bedroom doorway, one bare shoulder propped almost negligently against its frame.

He hadn’t changed much in the past two years, she thought numbly. Not on the surface, anyway. The unruly dark hair, shining with damp, was still longer than convention demanded. The lean, incisive face with its high cheekbones and sculpted mouth, was as heart-stopping as ever. The tall body was even more powerful than she remembered, with the long endless legs, and the deep shadow of chest hair that arrowed down towards his flat stomach.

So, although the rudimentary decencies had been observed, there was still clearly nothing to be relieved about, she told herself as she began to shake inside. In fact, quite the contrary …

‘I don’t believe it.’ She invested her tone with considered venom. ‘My God, I hoped I’d seen the last of you.’

‘And instead you saw a damned sight more than you bargained for.’ He looked her up and down, the hazel eyes frankly insolent under their heavy fringe of lashes as he took in the grubby white denims, and crumpled dark blue top. ‘That’s life?’

‘What are you doing here?’ Laine lifted her chin haughtily, trying not to blush.

‘Taking a shower.’ His tanned face was inimical. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘And equally obvious that isn’t what I meant.’ She struggled to steady her voice. To try and regain some control of this disturbing and unwelcome situation. ‘I’m asking what you’re doing in this flat.’

‘But I asked first,’ he said. ‘I understood you were establishing a new career being decorative in the Florida Keys.’

‘I was working in a boat charter business down there, yes,’ she said curtly. ‘What’s it to you?’

‘I was simply wondering why you’re stumbling around here instead of fixing frozen daiquiris on the poop deck.’

‘I don’t have to explain myself to you,’ Laine said coldly. ‘All you need to know is that I’m home to stay, and you can get dressed and the hell out of my flat before I have the law on you.’

His look was contemptuous. ‘And I’m supposed to tremble and obey? Is that it? No chance, sweetness. Because, unless your dear brother’s been lying to me, and frankly I don’t think he’d dare, half this desirable residence is his, and that’s the half I’m using.’

‘You are using?’ she said slowly. ‘By what right?’

‘I have a three-month lease,’ he said. ‘Properly drawn up and legally enforceable.’

Her heart was thudding unevenly against her ribcage. ‘I gave no permission for this.’

‘You weren’t here,’ he reminded her. ‘And Jamie guaranteed that happy state of affairs would continue. He thought that you and your fellow boat charterer were all set to walk into the sunset together.’ He inspected her bare left hand, his mouth twisting. ‘Or did he get that wrong?’

Yes, she thought. Completely wrong. But at the time it had made more sense to let Jamie believe that …

Aloud, she said, ‘A slight change of plan.’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘So another one bit the dust? I do hope you’re not making a habit of it.’ He waited for the sharp indrawn breath she could not control, then went on smoothly, ‘However, it was on the strict understanding that I’d have the place to myself that I arranged to tenant the flat during your brother’s absence in the United States.’

‘Absence?’ she repeated numbly. ‘Since when?’

‘Since three weeks.’ He paused. ‘It’s a—temporary secondment.’

‘Why didn’t he let me know?’

‘It all happened rather quickly.’ The silky drawl was even more pronounced. ‘He tried to contact you, but you seemed—unavailable. Phone calls and faxes to your registered office were left unanswered.’ He shrugged, drawing her unwilling attention to his elegantly muscled shoulders, and rather more besides.

God, but that towel was skimpy, she thought, her throat tightening. And none too secure either.

She decided to avert her gaze. ‘Always supposing this dubious agreement is valid,’ she said through gritted teeth, ‘that doesn’t explain why you were coming out of my bedroom.’

‘Except that it’s now mine,’ he said. ‘For the duration.’ His smile was harsh. ‘I’m sleeping in your bed at last, darling. Now, there’s a thought to savour.’

‘Not,’ she said, ‘as far as I’m concerned.’

‘There was a time,’ he said softly, ‘when the idea seemed briefly to hold a certain amount of appeal for you.’

‘But that,’ she said, ‘was before I turned out to be “a cheat, a liar and a bitch”. And I quote.’

His brows lifted. ‘Indeed you do—and with remarkable accuracy. But moving into your room wasn’t a deliberate choice prompted by malice. Or any nostalgia for what might have been,’ he added, his mouth curling. ‘Simply a question of expediency.’

‘However, you must be able to understand,’ she went on, as if he hadn’t spoken, ‘why I wouldn’t wish to share a roof with you now any more than I did two years ago.’

‘I can see it might be a problem,’ he agreed.

‘I’m glad you’re prepared to be reasonable.’ She was surprised, too, she thought, taking another, more even breath. ‘Then perhaps you’d make immediate arrangements to remove yourself and your belongings to a more appropriate environment?’

His grin was total appreciation. ‘Presumably somewhere like the lowest pit of hell? But you misunderstand me, sweetheart. Any problem that might exist is yours, not mine, because I’m going nowhere. What you decide, of course,’ he added, ‘is entirely your own business.’

She stared at him, lips parting in dismay. ‘But you can’t do this.’

He shrugged again, casually adjusting the slipping towel. ‘Try me.’

‘But you don’t really want to live here,’ she said uncertainly.

‘Why not? Apart from the last five minutes, it’s been pleasant enough.’

‘But such a come down.’ She made herself drawl the words, as if she’d suddenly seen the humour in the situation. ‘It’s just a flat, after all. Not a glamorous penthouse pad for a millionaire publishing tycoon. No diamond encrusted taps or wall-to-wall women. Not your sort of place at all.’

She paused. ‘Unless, of course, Wordwide International has gone into liquidation since you’ve been running it, and this is all you can afford these days.’

‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ he said, his face expressionless. ‘But things are just fine in our part of the market. And I’m staying here because it’s temporarily convenient for me to do so.’

He folded his arms across his chest. ‘Face it, Laine, you chose to return without a word to anyone, least of all Jamie. He seemed to think you wouldn’t be coming back at all—ever. And life doesn’t stand still waiting for you. However, my deal is strictly with Jamie, so I have no power to prevent you using the other half of the flat, if you wish,’ he added evenly.

‘That’s quite impossible.’ She didn’t look at him. ‘And you know it.’

‘Actually, no,’ he said. ‘I don’t. Stay—go—it makes no difference to me. Unless you’re deluding yourself that I still harbour some faint inclination for you. If so, think again.’

He paused grimly, watching the helpless colour warm her face. ‘But be aware of this—you’re not going to insult me out of occupation, and an appeal to my better nature won’t work either.’

‘I wasn’t aware you had a better nature.’

‘It’s currently under severe pressure.’ He paused. ‘If you won’t share, you leave. It’s that simple, so make your mind up.’

‘This is my home,’ she said. ‘I have nowhere else to go.’

‘Then do what I did,’ he said. ‘Call in a favour.’ He added with a touch of grimness, ‘Although I suspect that might be difficult. You and your brother probably owe far more goodwill than you can ever repay.’

Laine drew a swift, sharp breath. ‘That is a—loathsome thing to say.’

‘But realistic.’ He gave her a level look. ‘So, if you’ve finally decided that here is better than a corner of Cardboard City, I suggest you stop arguing and start getting organised, because it could be a lengthy business.

‘And if you want to eat, you’ll also have to shop, because I’m not funding your food. We’ll discuss sharing the other bills later.’

He turned to go. ‘And don’t ask for your room back,’ he added. ‘As a refusal often offends.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Laine said between her teeth. ‘After all, in a few weeks you’ll be gone, and until that happy day I’ll camp in Jamie’s room.’

His grin was sardonic. ‘Prior to having this place fumigated and the bed ritually burned, no doubt.’

‘My own thoughts precisely,’ she threw after him as the door closed.

For a moment she stood where she was, staring at the wooden panels. It’s a nightmare, she told herself. That’s all. And presently I’ll wake up to find it’s over, and then I can start putting my life back together again.

She was trembling so violently inside that all she wanted to do was let herself sink down on to the floor and stay there. But Daniel could re-emerge at any moment, and the last thing she wanted was to be found crouching on the stripped and polished floorboards at his feet like some small wounded animal.

She’d never thought she would see him again. Or not face to face like this, anyway. Had told herself that he was out of her life for always. Deliberately put herself at such a distance that she would be spared the pain of even an accidental glimpse of him. Promised herself that, gradually, the memories of everything that had happened between them would begin to fade, and she would find some kind of peace.

Yet here he was again, and all the shame and the trauma of their shared past were still as vivid and as painful as ever.

I haven’t forgotten a thing, she thought. And neither has he.

She passed the tip of her tongue over her dry lips. Faint inclination. That was the phrase he’d used, and it had bitten into her consciousness like acid dripping on metal.

Because that was as much as it had ever been. All the helpless passion—the feverish longing—had been on her side alone.

But I can’t let him think it still matters to me, she told herself. I dare not. I have to convince him that it’s all over for me too. That I’ve grown up and moved on.

She waited until her heartbeat had steadied, and her breathing rate had calmed a little, then made her way slowly over to Jamie’s room, favouring her damaged ankle as she went.

She turned the handle and made to push the door open, but it resisted stubbornly, as if there was some obstruction behind it. Laine put her shoulder to it, managing to create a gap just wide enough to give her access, and squeezed through it, wincing.

Then stopped dead, with a gasp of sheer dismay.

Because this was no longer a bedroom, but a landfill site. Every inch of space seemed to be occupied by something. There were stacks of boxes on the floor, next to crates of books and CDs, and a row of suitcases, elderly and unmatching. The bed’s bare mattress, she saw incredulously, was covered by the entire contents of her own wardrobe. And the blockage behind the door had been caused by an over-stuffed black binliner which had apparently fallen from a similar pile.

As if in a dream, Laine reached down and lifted it back into place.

Cardboard City, she thought, was right here, waiting for her.

It would take hours, she realised limply, to clear sufficient space just to cross the room. As for the leisurely bath and so-needed sleep—well, that was going to remain just a dream for the foreseeable future.

To her horror, she felt her eyes burning with sudden tears. After all the ghastliness with Andy, to come home to this! Plus bloody Daniel Flynn.

A lengthy business. His own words—the rotten bastard.

Because he’d known exactly what she was going to find here. These things weren’t Jamie’s, so they had to be his. He was sleeping in her room, and using this as his private dumping ground.

‘If I could only get to the window,’ she muttered furiously, crushing down any lingering remnants of self-pity. ‘I’d throw the whole sodding lot into the street.’

He’d emptied everything she possessed on to the bed—even her underwear—and the thought made her cringe. She’d wash and iron every single item before she allowed any of them anywhere near her, she promised herself grimly.

But if he thought she was going to deal with this appalling mess alone, he could think again. He was not going to get away with it, she vowed as she limped back across the living room and banged on the door.

It was flung open almost immediately, and Daniel confronted her unsmilingly. The towel had been replaced by a pair of jeans, but he was still barefoot and bare-chested, and Laine felt her mouth dry as unwanted memory pierced her.

‘What now?’ he demanded.

‘That other room,’ she said huskily, ‘is a pigsty. A tip. And I want to know what you intend to do about it.’

‘Nothing,’ he returned curtly. ‘Not my tip. Not my problem.’

Laine gasped. ‘What the hell do you mean? It’s packed to the ceiling with your surplus belongings, and I want them moved. Now.’

‘The true voice of command.’ His mouth curled. ‘Your sea-faring days haven’t been wasted. What’s next on the agenda, Captain? A little light keel-hauling?’

She jerked a thumb in the direction of the room behind her. ‘That is now my half of the flat,’ she said. ‘And I want it cleared.’

‘Then I suggest you get started.’ He sounded faintly bored. ‘Although God knows where you’re going to put it all. And—just for the record—nothing in that room is mine. Some of the things belong to your brother, but most of it he’s storing for someone called Sandra. I believe she went with him to New York.’

‘Jamie left them?’ She stared at him. ‘Left me to cope with that terrible mess? Oh, he couldn’t have done. He wouldn’t …’ Her voice trailed away.

‘No?’ His smile was cynical. ‘If you wish to take the matter up with him, I can give you his number in Manhattan.’

‘Please don’t trouble yourself,’ she said crisply. ‘I’ll manage.’

She’d planned to wheel round and march away with dignity, but in mid-turn her ankle gave a jab of pain so fierce that she yelped aloud and faltered.

‘Going for the sympathy vote, Laine? It won’t work.’

But neither would her ankle, she realised, taking a deep breath as she gingerly tested her weight on it and winced uncontrollably.

‘What’s the matter?’ One swift stride brought him to her, his hand under her elbow.

‘Don’t touch me.’ She tried to pull away, but he’d seen the bandage and his grip tightened.

‘What the hell have you done to yourself?’ He sounded resigned.

‘My ankle’s twisted, that’s all,’ she said shortly. ‘Please leave me alone, and don’t fuss.’

‘I’m not the one squawking with pain.’

To her horror, Daniel picked her up and carried her to one of the long sofas that flanked the fireplace, placing her on the cushions. It was the work of a moment, but it forced an all-too potent reminder of the cool, clean scent of his bare skin into her consciousness.

Oh, God, she thought, a feeling akin to panic unravelling inside her, I don’t need this …

He knelt, and began to undo the bandage.

She said tautly, ‘I can manage by myself.’

His glance was ironic. ‘Now who’s making the fuss?’

Laine subsided, flushing mutinously. She stared over his shoulder, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, her nerve-endings jangling as Daniel frowningly examined the swollen joint.

‘When did you do this?’

She hunched a shoulder. ‘The other day.’

‘You should have rested it at once,’ he said tersely. ‘So start now.’ He rose lithely and went into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a plastic bag filled with ice cubes. ‘Here. Hold this against it.’

She complied reluctantly, her expression rebellilious as Daniel tied it on with the discarded bandage.

‘Thank you,’ she said tautly when his task was completed.

‘No need for gratitude,’ he said caustically as he straightened. ‘I have a vested interest in seeing that you have both legs in good working order. Job hunting requires a lot of exercise, and you need to start earning without delay.’

She lifted her chin. ‘Please don’t worry. I’ve always paid my way.’

‘Not always,’ he said softly. ‘But these days I prefer cash, rather than kind. It’s more reliable.’

She was rigid. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘Work it out for yourself,’ he said coldly, and disappeared back to the kitchen, leaving her gasping in fury. When he returned, he was carrying a glass of water on a saucer, with two capsules lying beside it.

‘Here,’ he said. ‘Take these.’

‘What are they?’

‘Painkillers,’ he said with a hint of acid. ‘Don’t worry. You won’t wake up in two days’ time in some Middle Eastern brothel.’

If you knew, she thought, as she reluctantly swallowed the capsules, and handed back the glass. If you had the least idea of what’s happened in the past few days, then perhaps you’d understand why I’m strung on wires. But you don’t—and anyway you’re the last person in the world that I could ever tell.

He was looking at her frowningly. ‘Have you eaten?’

‘There was food on the plane,’ she returned evasively. She hadn’t touched any of it. She’d felt sick to her stomach, as well as sick at heart, her mind going in dazed circles as she tried to make sense of what Andy had done. The brutal extent of his betrayal.

And to come reeling out of hell, after all she’d been through, to find this man of all men waiting for her was the final shattering blow.

He paused. ‘I’m going to make coffee. Do you want some?’

Laine shook her head. ‘No—thank you.’

She leaned back against the cushions, closing her eyes. Blocking him out physically would be a start, she thought wearily. The beginning of a long, uphill struggle to free herself from him, and the memories he evoked, which, incredibly, still had the power to devastate even two long years further on.

But her senses still told her when he moved away, and how pathetic was that? How could she be so aware of a man who’d deliberately and cynically betrayed her? Who’d destroyed her self-esteem and her trust, along with the first delirious ache of first love. A love that had left her in small pieces, unfulfilled and almost destroyed.

But she couldn’t let herself think about that. Not now. Not ever. She had other far more important considerations to deal with—like finding work.

As he’d so charmingly indicated, she thought, gritting her teeth.

She could hear the distant chink of crockery as he moved around in the kitchen, and shifted restlessly on the cushions.

Oh, God, these coming weeks were going to be the kind of agony that no painkillers could ever touch, but, whatever her feelings, she couldn’t afford to move out immediately, and he probably knew it.

She’d always hoped that if they ever met again by some mischance, far in the future, she’d be so bolstered by her own success—her own happiness—that she could look him in the eye with indifference.

But Fate had planned it otherwise.

She had no idea how much money she had in her bank account, but it couldn’t be much. And she’d used the last remaining bit of credit on her card to buy her ticket home, so that was another bill she could expect eventually.

And now, with Jamie gone, she couldn’t even beg a temporary loan.

I think I’ve just hit rock bottom, she thought. Unless there’s another layer they haven’t mentioned.

‘Don’t go to sleep, Laine.’ His voice made her jump. ‘Try and switch yourself to London time, or you could be jet-lagged for days.’

She opened reluctant eyes and looked at him. He was holding out a beaker.

‘I suggest you drink this. You need the caffeine to get you started.’

She said haughtily, ‘If this is intended as some kind of olive branch …’

‘I know. I can stick it where the sun don’t shine. But don’t worry. It’s not peace I’m offering—more an armed truce. Now, take it.’

She bit her lip, and obeyed with open reluctance. The brew it contained was black and strong without sugar, just as she liked it, which somehow made acceptance even more galling.

He sat down on the sofa opposite, stretching out long legs, observing her narrow-eyed. ‘And what are your career plans now that boat chartering has hit the rocks?’

She stiffened defensively. ‘I didn’t actually say that.’

‘You didn’t have to. You hardly came in whistling A life on the ocean wave.’

She took another sip of coffee while she tried to think of an acceptable approximation of the truth. ‘Let’s just say that my partner and I discovered we had irreconcilable differences and leave it at that.’

Daniel’s brows lifted sardonically. ‘Well, that has a familiar ring,’ he commented, making her wince inwardly. ‘Is this a final breach, or more of a decree nisi?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Is it over, or only over unless—or until—he comes grovelling on his knees for forgiveness?’

Her stomach gave a sudden crazy lurch. ‘That won’t happen. And I’d rather not discuss it any further.’

‘A Sinclair family trait,’ he said softly. ‘Leaving all kinds of things unsaid. Rather like trying to cap a volcano, don’t you think?’

‘No,’ she said stonily. ‘I don’t. I think privacy should be respected.’

‘Is that why you couldn’t be reached in Florida?’

No, she thought. That was because Andy hadn’t paid the rent on our office, and the landlord closed it down. But I didn’t know that at the time.

‘Jamie and I are brother and sister,’ she returned. ‘But we’re not joined at the hip.’

‘I can tell that,’ he said. ‘Sandra came as quite a surprise, didn’t she?’

‘Jamie’s had a lot of girls, and will probably have many more,’ she said. ‘It’s no big deal.’

‘I think,’ he said, ‘this one might be.’

‘Oh, really?’ Her tone was sarcastic. ‘You’ve been out of our lives for two years. Now you’re suddenly in my brother’s confidence? I don’t think so.’

‘You’re the one that’s out of touch, Laine. Jamie and I have been in contact quite a lot in recent months—one way and another.’

There was something about that—the phrasing, perhaps, or an odd note in his voice—which sent a prickle of unease down her spine.

Because on the face of it there was no need, or even likelihood, for their paths to cross. Jamie was a minor cog in a firm of City accountants. Daniel had inherited his family business empire and become a publishing magnate before he was thirty.

And, besides, he’d been Simon’s friend, she thought flatly, fighting the instinctive pain. No one else’s. Simon, her adored eldest brother, the golden boy, ten years her senior.

Daniel’s best mate at school from way back. Both high-flyers in the sixth form, members of the First Eleven at cricket, and demon tennis partners.

But there the resemblance ended. Because Daniel was a loner, the only son of a driven father who, after his wife’s death, had poured all his energies, all his emotions into work, into relentless expansion and acquisition, leaving little time to give to a small boy. In school holidays he’d been left to the mercies of paid staff, or farmed out to various business acquaintances with young families.

While Simon had had his mother, two younger siblings, and Abbotsbrook, that wonderful crumbling relic of a house with its huge untidy garden to come home to at the end of each term. A place where every summer gave the illusion of being filled with sun and warmth.

Eventually, grudgingly, Robert Flynn had agreed that his son could spend part of his holidays with his friend’s family.

After all, as Angela Sinclair had remarked, the house was always full of people. There were guests almost every weekend. One more would make little difference.

Except to me, Laine thought with a pang. It made all the difference in the world to me …

But that was forbidden territory, and she dared not go there. Particularly now.

She finished her coffee, and put the beaker on the floor. ‘Jamie’s well below your league, isn’t he? You always seemed to regard him as something of a pain. And you certainly can’t be short of places to live, so why here?’

‘It’s an arrangement that suited us both.’

‘And Cowper Dymond don’t have a New York branch,’ she went on. ‘So what’s Jamie doing over there?’

‘He’s working for me,’ Daniel said. ‘In the royalties section of Hirondelle Books.’

‘Working for you?’ Laine’s voice was incredulous, but her uneasy feeling grew. ‘But he had a perfectly good job. Why should he change?’

‘Perhaps that’s something else you should discuss with him?’ Daniel drained his coffee cup and rose. ‘He’s expecting your call.’

She stared up at him. ‘You’ve been talking to him? You told him I was here?’

‘While I was in the kitchen,’ he said. ‘I suggested that his room should be cleared, and the contents put into storage at his expense, and he agreed. Unfortunately, the removal firm I called can’t come until tomorrow, so you may have to spend the night on that sofa.’

‘You called?’ Laine lifted her chin. ‘I’m perfectly capable of making my own arrangements,’

‘You wish me to ring back and cancel?’ Daniel suggested pleasantly.

She wanted to say yes, but she knew it would be foolish, especially when he’d obviously pulled strings to get the job done quickly. And sleeping out here in the living room for any longer than was absolutely necessary had no appeal at all.

‘No,’ she said reluctantly. ‘Let’s leave things as they are.’

‘A wise choice,’ he approved. ‘You’re learning.’ He paused. ‘I have to go into the office for a couple of hours, so you’ll be able to pound your brother’s ears with your objections over my unwanted presence to your little heart’s content. Not,’ he added, ‘that it will make a blind bit of difference. The deal is done. But you might find it cathartic.’

He read the message conveyed by her over-bright eyes and compressed lips, and grinned.

‘And keep off that ankle,’ he advised. ‘You need it to heal quickly. So that you can start pounding the pavements instead.’

Knowing that he spoke nothing but the truth did nothing to improve her temper or calm the riptide of emotion threatening to overwhelm her as she watched him walk away and go into her bedroom—her bedroom—closing the door behind him.

A shudder ran through her. What a mess, she thought. What a blinding, unbelievable mess. And how in God’s name am I ever going to cope with it?

CHAPTER TWO

THE pain in her ankle was gradually turning to a dull throb. But the pain building inside her was a different matter. There was no quick fix for that, and it threatened to become unendurable more quickly than she could have imagined in her worst nightmares,

Yet she should have known, after these last two years of utter wretchedness. Months when she’d tried so hard to bury the hurt and bewilderment in the deepest recesses of her mind. And forget him.

Attempts that had never worked. That had eventually convinced her that only a complete change in her circumstances would do.

Which was why she’d made the reckless decision to relocate to Florida, without fully considering all the implications. Because she’d seen Andy’s proposition as a chance for rehabilitation—a way of turning her life around and making a new start.

With an ocean—a whole continent—between Daniel and herself, she’d reasoned wildly, she might just stand a chance …

But now, after only just over a month, she was back, and in a worse situation than before. And shock and anger were fast giving way to total desperation as she contemplated what the weeks ahead of her would hold.

Seeing Daniel each day, she realised, her throat tightening. Knowing that he was sleeping only a matter of yards away every night. Oh, dear God …

She had a sudden image of him as he’d been that night, two years ago, his tanned skin dark against the white towelling bathrobe, his face stark with disbelief in the moonlight as she’d told him, over and over again, her voice small and raw, the words stumbling against each other, that their marriage only a few hours earlier had been a terrible—a disastrous mistake. And that it was finished—over and done with—even before it had begun.

Forcing him to accept that she meant every word, and that there would be no second chance. Until at last he’d believed her, and turned away in bitter condemnation.

But he’d done as she wished. The marriage had been dissolved, more quickly and quietly than she’d believed possible.

What a strange word ‘dissolved’ was to use in the context of ending a marriage, she thought. It sounded almost gentle, implying that the relationship had been made to vanish, like rain falling on the earth. Not the agonised tearing apart—the destruction of her hopes and dreams—that had really taken place.

Nor had it led to Daniel simply disappearing from her life, as she’d hoped. Because once Laine had started living and working in London he’d been only too much in evidence.

She’d glimpsed him in the distance across crowded rooms. Looked down from the circle of a theatre to see him in the stalls, or discovered his picture in some paper or magazine. Never alone, either. The parade of his women seemed unending. Although, as she’d reminded herself wretchedly, that was only to be expected.

After all, he was a free man, in a way that she would never be a free woman. Because his heart had not been broken, or his life shattered, as hers had been.

But she’d never, mercifully, been close enough to him for their eyes to meet, or any greeting to be exchanged. Some atavistic instinct had always seemed to give her advance warning when he was around, enabling her to steel herself and move unobtrusively out of his orbit.

Until, of course, today, when her antennae had been disjointed—thrown into confusion by the events of the last forty-eight hours.

But how could I have thought—how could I possibly have dreamed—that something like this could happen? she asked herself, her throat tightening. Never—never in this world …

She checked, her heart thudding erratically against her ribs, as his door opened again. This time he was transformed into business formality, in elegant charcoal pants and an immaculate white shirt worn with a crimson silk tie. He was slotting thin gold links into his cuffs as he strode past her towards Jamie’s bedroom without even glancing in her direction.

She found a voice. ‘What are you doing?’

He said crisply, ‘Making it possible for you to get to your bathroom without damaging that ankle even more.’

‘Please don’t bother.’ Laine lifted her chin. ‘I can cope perfectly well alone.’

He threw her a sardonic glance. ‘Oh, that it were true.’

He pushed the door ajar and edged round it, and the next few minutes were filled with various brisk bangs and thuds, and a few muttered curses, while Laine sat chewing her lip.

She hated being forced to be beholden to him, even in the least respect, she thought furiously. But this would be the last time. She’d see to that.

From now on she would build a firewall round herself, she promised silently. Practise every avoidance tactic available. Because this was a question of sheer survival.

When Daniel came back, dusting off his hands, she was sitting rigidly upright, her face inimical.

‘Thank you.’ Her tone was ice.

‘Gratitude,’ he said, ‘may not be your predominating emotion when you see the state of the bathroom.’ He shrugged into his jacket and picked up his briefcase. ‘But—that’s your problem. One of many, I suspect.’

He paused, took a business card from his wallet, and tossed it down beside her. ‘Jamie’s contact number,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’ll want a word with him.’ His smile grazed her. ‘You both have some explaining to do.’

At the door, he took a final look back at her. ‘And, talking of explanations, one of these days or nights—if the conversation palls—you might care to tell me why you put us both through that farce two years ago. Standing beside me in church, making vows you had no intention of keeping, even for twenty-four hours. When the simplest course would have been to call the whole thing off, saving us both a load of grief.’ He allowed a heartbeat for her to assimilate that. Then, ‘See you later,’ he added with cool emphasis. And went.

‘Look,’ Jamie said with a defensiveness Laine could recognise even from the other side of the Atlantic, ‘I didn’t really have a choice. And what’s the beef anyway? Okay, your marriage was a total fiasco, but that’s long over, and I don’t suppose he bears a grudge. Not after all this time.’

You think that? You really believe it?

‘Anyway,’ he added into the silence, ‘there was a time when he was practically one of the family, especially after—after …’

‘Don’t,’ Laine said, her voice suddenly husky. ‘Just don’t.’ She took a deep breath, struggling with her composure. ‘You have to understand that things are different now. And I—I don’t think I can do this.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ His voice took on a peevish note. ‘The two of us got by on a policy of strict noninterference, didn’t we? Same roof, separate lives. And it will be the exactly same with Daniel.’

No, she said silently. It won’t be. It can’t … Because I’ve done that once before. And how can I live through that same nightmare all over again and remain sane?

‘He’s away a lot anyway,’ he added. ‘Visiting the corners of his far-flung empire. And when he is there, he certainly won’t be sniffing round you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. Once bitten, twice shy.’ He laughed. ‘Besides, I’ve seen a sample of his current ladies, and you’re not in the same league, sister dear.’

He had not, she thought, needed to tell her that. She knew it already. Had known it for too long.

She kept her voice steady. ‘Thanks for the reassurance. Now, perhaps you’ll tell me what he’s doing here in our flat?’

He was silent for a moment. ‘He bought a house a while back,’ he said. ‘He’s been having it totally renovated—remodelled. Until it’s finished he needs somewhere temporary to crash that doesn’t involve long expensive leases with penalty clauses. It’s that simple.’

‘Forgive me,’ Laine said grittily, ‘if our ideas of simplicity don’t quite coincide.’ She paused. ‘You haven’t yet mentioned why you’re working for him.’

‘I needed a job. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.’

‘You had a job,’ she said. ‘At a decent firm. What happened?’

There was a silence, then he said, ‘I got fired.’

‘What?’

‘Fired,’ he repeated. ‘As in sacked, let go, contract terminated.’

Laine felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. ‘What did you do?’

‘Where shall I begin?’ He paused theatrically. ‘Inattention to detail. Poor time-keeping. Unexplained absences. Particularly those. They went through the procedures meticulously—written warnings, the lot. And I was found guilty on all charges.’

‘This is—unbelievable.’

‘Not really. Who wants to trust his business accounting to a guy who’s hung over before noon? Old Balfour went through my client records like a ferret. I think he hoped they could make it a police matter.’

‘Was that—possible?’

‘No.’ He paused. ‘I may be a total idiot, Laine, but I don’t have a death wish.’

‘No?’ she asked bitterly. ‘Well, you could have fooled me. And this sudden departure to the States sounds very much like a moonlight flit. Please tell me I’m wrong.’

‘You’re like a bloody Rottweiler,’ he said pettishly. ‘You won’t let go.’

‘My God, do you blame me?’ She drew a deep breath. ‘Jamie—the truth. What kind of obligation are you under to Daniel Flynn?’

There was a silence, then he said grudgingly, ‘I owe him—big time.’

It was the admission she’d least wanted to hear.

She said carefully, ‘Do you mean that literally, or figuratively?’

‘I mean it every which way,’ he told her heavily. ‘Six months ago I saved a client a lot of tax. He was grateful, and took me out to dinner. Afterwards we went to this gambling club, the Jupiter, where he was a member. We played roulette, and I won—quite a lot. Clive said I was a born gambler, and he sponsored me for membership. I started going back there. Once a week at first, and then more often. I won a little, but my losses soon began to mount up.

‘That’s when I ran into Daniel again. He was at the baccarat table one night. I could tell he was surprised to see me because the Jupiter catered for seriously high rollers. He invited me to have a drink with him, a chat about old times. But I soon realised he was trying to warn me off—advise me not to get in too deep. He said the Jupiter had something of a reputation. But I wasn’t prepared to listen.’

He continued impatiently, ‘I won’t make excuses, Laine. It was too late. I was already over my head, heavily in debt and unable to pay, and the club wanted its money.

‘I’d got to know Sandra, one of the croupiers, and she warned me that there were—people looking for me. That’s when I went to ground. Stayed away from the flat. Didn’t go to work. I—I’ve never been so scared in my life.

‘Eventually Daniel found me,’ he continued heavily. ‘I was—staying with Sandra’s cousin, and he persuaded her to give him the address. Said there was a family connection, and he wanted to help.’

‘Family connection?’ Laine echoed with angry derision. ‘My God, he has a damned nerve.’

‘Well, he was momentarily my brother-in-law. And what would you have preferred?’ He was angry too. ‘For me to be found in some alley, beaten to a pulp? In hospital with two broken legs? Daniel was a total bastard—he played absolute hell with me—but he also saved my life. Not for my sake. He made it damned clear that he thinks I’m pretty much a waste of good space.’ There was a faint choke in his voice. ‘No, he helped me only because he knows that Simon would have done the same.’

She said numbly, ‘Yes—of course, he would …’

‘So,’ Jamie went on, ‘he paid off the club, and got Sandra out of it, too, in case her bosses found out she’d been helping me and—objected.

‘That’s why he offered me a job in New York. He said we might find the climate healthier than London for the next few months. I told you—I don’t have a death wish, so I agreed. Letting him use the flat seemed a pretty small return, all things considered.’ There was a pause. ‘And, to be fair, I didn’t think you’d ever find out.’

‘Except I have, and now I’m being punished for your misdemeanours,’ Laine said with renewed crispness.

‘Well, that won’t worry him,’ Jamie said with a touch of weariness. ‘To be honest, he doesn’t seem to have a lot of time for either of us.’

He paused, ‘Anyway, what exactly are you doing back in the UK? Is the business doing so well that you can afford a holiday?’

No point in pretence. ‘There is no business. Not any more.’

‘You have to be kidding.’ His tone was incredulous. ‘Everyone wants to go fishing off the Florida Keys. It’s a licence to print money.’

‘Perhaps,’ she said. ‘But Andy decided to sell the licence.’

‘At a healthy profit, I hope?’

‘I imagine so,’ Laine said, her voice bright and brittle. ‘Unfortunately he never discussed it with me—before, during or after the transaction. Particularly after. I got back from trying to find us some alternative office premises and found it was a done deal and that Andy had—moved on.’ She took a breath. ‘I—decided against looking for him.’

He said slowly, ‘You mean—he took—everything? But you invested in that boat—every penny you had.’

‘So I did,’ she said. ‘But unfortunately I ended up with a nil return, silly me.’

There was a silence, then he said, ‘My God, Laine, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ she said, crisply. ‘I reckon in many ways I got off quite cheaply.’

‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But I genuinely thought you were happy—settled. That you were making yourself a life.’

‘I suppose I did too.’ But is that really the truth, or was I simply buying myself some time while I waited for the healing process to work?

‘However,’ she went on, ‘it’s left me in a bit of a spot, financially. And I rather hoped you’d be around—to help.’

‘Well, I would be,’ he said. ‘Under normal circumstances. But my salary level at Wordwide isn’t brilliant, and I have to start repaying Daniel.’

He paused awkwardly. ‘And there’s Sandra. She’s got a job in a diner. The money’s putrid, so she has to rely on tips to boost it. We’re having quite a struggle.’ Another pause. ‘What about the gallery? Couldn’t you get your old job back?’

‘Unlikely. They’ll have replaced me long ago.’

‘I suppose so.’ A longer silence. ‘You could always try Ma.’

‘No,’ she said, quietly. ‘That’s one of several things I won’t even consider.’

‘Daniel being another?’

‘The prime example,’ she confirmed. ‘Besides, it’s clear that you’ve used up any residue of goodwill he may have had towards the Sinclair family.’

‘You could try being nice to him,’ Jamie suggested.

Her voice was suddenly husky. ‘What the hell do you mean?’

‘Well, not what you’re thinking, obviously.’ He was defensive again. ‘But when you were a kid you used to follow him round like a puppy. And there must have been a time when he liked you too, or he wouldn’t have asked you to marry him. And even though it turned into a disaster, you might catch him at a sentimental moment.’

‘I don’t think he has them.’ Laine found herself sinking her teeth into her lower lip. ‘No, from here on I’m strictly on my own, but I’ll manage. Watch me.’

‘Is Daniel around now?’

‘He went to his office.’ She added coldly, ‘He looked the image of a man about to make his next million.’

‘Well, don’t knock it,’ Jamie said, with something of a snap. ‘I’ve no idea what happened between you two years ago, and I don’t want to know. However, I’ll just say this.’ His voice became urgent. ‘For God’s sake take it easy where he’s concerned, and don’t go out of your way to upset him, Laine, whatever you may feel. Because I can’t afford it. And maybe you can’t either.’

He paused. ‘Keep in touch.’

Laine replaced the receiver, and sat for a long while, staring into space.

Any fleeting plan of having the locks changed in Daniel’s absence no longer seemed to be an option, she thought, her mouth twisting.

She realised she wasn’t shocked or even particularly surprised by Jamie’s tale of woe. He seemed to have been tottering from one disaster to the next since adolescence. Flirtations with alcohol and drugs had led to expulsion from two schools, and he’d distinguished himself at the third with a brief and unsuccessful career as a bookmaker in the sixth form. Only the fact that his final public examinations were looming had saved him from yet another ignominious exit.

His time at university, however, had been relatively peaceful, and he’d apparently transferred seamlessly to Cowper Dymond.

Laine had hoped her brother’s problems were behind him, but how wrong could anyone be?

She supposed he was not entirely to blame. As their family life had begun to fall apart it was Jamie who’d absorbed most of the resultant pressure. Their mother’s dependency had been transferred to him.

Nobody expected very much of me, Laine thought. I was the youngest. The baby. The little sister.

She replaced the phone on its rest, and stood up. The ice pack had helped reduce some of the swelling to her ankle, and she’d apply another one later.

But now she had things to do. And making Jamie’s room at least habitable was the first of them. Comfort could follow once the place had been emptied tomorrow.

As Daniel had piled everything neatly in one corner, she could actually move around it as long as she was careful. She began by clearing her clothes from the bed, and hanging them in the fitted wardrobes, alongside the few things Jamie had left, then filling the empty drawers in his dressing chest.

She fetched clean linen and made up the bed, before devoting half an hour’s energetic cleaning to the scruffy bathroom, throwing away half-used toiletries and oddments of soap, and scouring the basin and tub.

Particularly the tub—because she had plans for that.

When basic hygiene had been restored, she stripped and put on her favourite robe, an elderly blue velour, much rubbed, but as comforting as a hug from a friend.

She unpacked her bag and put the modest amount of clothing it contained into the washing machine, along with the garments she’d just discarded. Her precipitate departure meant that she’d had to leave much of her stuff behind.

I seem to be spending my entire life in flight, one way or another, she derided herself. But now the thing I’ve dreaded most has happened, so there’s no point in running any more.

Finally, she ran herself a generous bath, scenting it lavishly with her favourite oil. She gave her hair a vigorous shampoo using the hand-shower, before sinking down with a grateful sigh into the water, immersing herself to the tops of her breasts. She leaned back, closing her eyes as the fragrant warmth caressed her skin.

This was heaven. The shower on the boat had been intermittent at best, and at times totally non-cooperative. Her last exchange with Andy had been on that very subject. She’d said they must get it fixed before the next season. He’d grunted.

Nothing new in that, she thought. But maybe she should have reckoned up the number of grunts per conversation and drawn some kind of conclusion from them. Then she might have been more prepared for his selling their only asset and doing a runner with the proceeds.

She’d known, of course, that Andy bitterly resented the fact that she’d refused any physical involvement with him, and supposed he could not, in truth, be blamed for that. However, she’d made no actual promises, she told herself defensively.

It had been the chance of a new life halfway across the world, out of harm’s way, that she’d wanted. Not him. And she’d agreed to go with him just as his business partner, not his lover. He should have taken nothing for granted.

But he was a good-looking example of the blond, curly haired, rugged corner of the market, and charming with it—on the surface at least—so he probably hadn’t had too many rejections in his life. No doubt he’d believed that proximity would do its work, and that he’d persuade her round to his way of thinking in due course.

Well, she thought with a swift shiver, at least I was spared that. The money was all he got from me.

He’d totally underestimated her indifference to him sexually, just as she’d completely missed the signs that beneath the charismatic son-of-the-sea pose was a common swindler.

A brilliant fisherman, of course, in every way. Bait the hook, she thought bitterly, and reel ’em in.

But they’d had a good business going there, she reflected with regret. Their clientele had registered few complaints, and an abundance of compliments, especially about the good food she’d managed to produce in a galley that just bordered on the adequate, and money had been there to be made. But she could see now that, outside the thrill and glamour of the chase for the big game fish, it had all been too much like hard work for Andy. He wanted easy pickings, and no slog over bookkeeping or maintenance.

In retrospect, she could see she should have been warned that all might not be as it seemed. Except that she hadn’t allowed herself time to think—or to wonder what she might be getting into.

Oh, his proposition that she should invest in his business had come at exactly the right moment, she thought, her mouth twisting in self-derision. And when you’re thrown a lifeline, you don’t always check the rope for durability. You’re just too thankful to be rescued …

Dear God—some rescue! As she’d come back to the boat that day, weary and disheartened by lack of success in finding their business the new shore premises it needed, she had already known that persuading Andy to sit down and talk through their current difficulties would present a mammoth problem.

So, she’d not anticipated an easy time. She had, however, expected that he’d be there. Not that she’d find the revolting Dirk Clemmens waiting for her down in the saloon, a bottle of bourbon open on the table in front of him beside a sheaf of papers.

Of all their clients, this wealthy South African had been her least favourite. She’d loathed the way he made any excuse to touch her, brushing past her unnecessarily close. Making sure their hands met when she passed him a drink or served food. She didn’t like the friends he brought with him either, overweight and loud-mouthed. Or the girls who lay around sun-bathing, wearing only thongs when not completely naked.

Andy’s mouth had curled, however, when she’d complained about Clemmens and his groping. ‘Why should you care?’ he’d demanded sullenly. ‘We both know he’s on a hiding to nothing with you, sweetheart.’

And, suddenly, inexplicably, the burly South African had been right there, back on the boat, and she’d seemed to be alone with him, which had bewildered her as well as filling her with an odd sense of foreboding. But she’d hidden it well, keeping her voice cool. ‘Where’s Andy?’

‘Oh, he’s gone.’ He sounded almost casual. ‘We did a deal, chickie, and I’m now the new owner—in full possession.’ He had soft pink lips that always looked wet, and he stretched them now in an ingratiating smile. ‘Welcome back.’

Laine had stayed very still. She said quietly, ‘There must be some mistake. Andy and I were partners.’

‘Yeah, he told me. Sleeping partners.’ He gave a lascivious chuckle. ‘Which suits me just fine—so let’s keep the arrangement going, shall we?’ He pushed a glass towards her. ‘Sit down, honey. Have a drink while we discuss your—duties, eh?’

She said desperately, ‘But surely he must have left me a message of some kind?’

‘Yeah, he did. Now, how did he put it?’ He pretended to think for a moment. ‘Oh, I remember. He said to tell you, “So long, honey, and don’t think it wasn’t nice.’”

The shock of what he was saying brought bile into her throat, but it seemed wiser to take a seat while she tried to assimilate the full horror of Andy’s defection, and this resultant change in her circumstances.

She poured some whisky into her glass, and took a minimal sip as she waited for her mind to stop reeling.

Andy, she thought. Andy—whom she’d trusted—had done this to her. Had cheated her, stolen from her, and left her to this creature, whom he knew she hated. Was this his idea of revenge for turning him down—to abandon her to the mercies of a man whom she knew wouldn’t take no for an answer?

Was every man she came across going to betray her in some way?

Her stomach churned as she tried to think what to do next. Her instinct was screaming to her to make a dash for it, but, although Clemmens was a big man, he was light on his feet, and she wasn’t sure she could out-run him. And the thought of being caught by him—subdued—was terrifying.

No she would have to be more clever than that. Besides, she couldn’t simply leave empty-handed. Her wallet, with what ready money she possessed, was with her in her shoulder bag, but her passport was in her cabin with the rest of her things, and she needed it.

However, he’d clearly been celebrating his purchase, and this could work in her favour. She’d seen him drink before and, despite appearances and his own bragging, he didn’t have the hardest head in Miami.

She waited until he started shuffling through the papers, muttering with satisfaction, then swiftly tipped her drink down her skirt. It felt horribly clammy, and she immediately stank of spirits, but she could only hope Clemmens had imbibed enough himself not to notice that.

She poured another modest amount for herself, then refilled his glass, pushing it within easy reach. His fingers closed round it, and he drank.

He wiped his mouth with his fist, belched, and looked at her. ‘Andy tells me that once you’re in the sack you’re not nearly as prim and proper as you make out, sweetie.’ He laughed again. ‘I sure hope that’s true, because I pay by results.’

She smiled at him. Raised her glass in a semi-toast. ‘Then I trust you’re prepared to be generous, Mr Clemmens.’

Andy, you total bastard! Whatever you’ve done with the money, you could have spared me this—animal.

She sipped, then sent the rest over her skirt, as he splashed more bourbon into his glass, spattering his papers in the process.

He swore. ‘Get a cloth.’

She obeyed reluctantly, hoping he wouldn’t notice her damp skirt. But he simply grabbed the cloth from her hand, and began to dab clumsily at the top document.

‘God, it’s hot in here.’ He ran a finger round the collar of his polo shirt. ‘Isn’t there a fan or something?’

‘There used to be.’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe Andy took it with him.’

‘No, he took nothing but the asking price. I saw to that.’

Her heart skipped a beat, but her tone held nothing but indifference. ‘Then it’ll be somewhere in the guest quarters.’

‘Well, don’t just sit there.’ He leaned back against the cushioned seat, closing his eyes. ‘Get it.’

Laine rose and picked up her bag from the side of her chair. Was it really going to be this easy?

She went straight to the tiny space she’d occupied since she came on board, and changed swiftly out of her ruined skirt into a pair of white jeans.

She retrieved her passport, and thrust as much as she could carry into the smaller of her two travel bags, knowing that she needed to travel light.

Then, soft-footed, she went up on deck. She’d just stepped on to the gangplank when Dirk Clemmens’ voice sounded just behind her. ‘Where d’you think you’re going, chickie? You come here, now, like a good girl.’

As he reached for her Laine ran, hurling herself headlong on to the dock. Clemmens, panting close behind, made a grab for her but missed, and, bawling with rage, overbalanced and fell flat.

Laine, landing awkwardly, twisted her ankle, but kept going somehow, biting her lip against the pain. A glance over her shoulder showed that a small crowd was already gathering round Clemmens, who was trying to sit up.

She heard his voice like a wounded bull. ‘Stop her—she’s a thief.’ But she didn’t falter, or slacken her pace. She received a few curious looks, but no one attempted to detain her.

She turned abruptly and dodged into a bar that she knew, and made her way through the groups of drinkers as if on her way to the women’s room. Once at the rear, she took the emergency exit instead, finding herself in a quiet backstreet.

However, she’d shot her bolt, and she knew it. She was limping heavily now, and her ankle was swelling up like a balloon, so she hailed the first cruising cab she saw and asked to be taken to the airport.

And now here I am, she thought mirthlessly, as she climbed out of the bath and swathed herself in a towel. Out of the frying pan, straight into the inferno.

She towelled herself down swiftly, then rubbed the excess moisture from her hair and combed it back from her face with her fingers, grimacing as she remembered that her hairdryer was one of the items she’d been forced to abandon on the boat.

But I had a spare one here, she thought, getting back into her robe. I kept it in my dressing table.

Will it still be there—and do I have the nerve to check?

Yet, it was safe enough, she assured herself. Daniel was at the office, and she was surely entitled to retrieve her own property?

She limped across the living area, pushed open the door of her bedroom, and went cautiously inside—only to pause with a small, shocked gasp as she looked around her.

Because it was unrecognisable. The pretty wallpaper with its delicate tracery of honeysuckle had been painted over in plain ivory, and her pale yellow silk bedcover had been replaced by something far more austere in dark brown. The curtains were brown too, and even the bedside rugs had been changed.

Every trace of her, every charming personal touch that her earnings from the gallery had provided, seemed to have been deliberately erased.

They say you shouldn’t go back, she thought, because you’ll find the space you occupied has gone.

And I’m suddenly beginning to feel as if I no longer exist.

As if everything I loved most has been taken away from me. My father first, when I was a baby, then Simon, and eventually Abbotsbrook. Maybe it was never the sanctuary I imagined, and my last memories of it were pretty hideous, but it held a kind of security all the same.

I always thought one day I’d go back, and somehow rediscover everything that was precious from my childhood.

She bit her lip. Oh, come on, now, she adjured herself impatiently. You’re here to dry your hair, not collapse into sentimentality.

She took a breath, then raised her head and looked across the room into the dressing table mirror. If Daniel hadn’t changed, there was little difference in her either. Her hair was still mousy, albeit streaked by the sun, and her figure remained like a stick. Her eyes would always be more grey than green, although she did have her mother’s cheekbones, which perhaps redeemed her face from being totally nondescript.

But not a great deal to set, all the same, against Daniel’s known preferences in womankind. The glamorous leggy blondes with the knowing eyes who’d made her adolescence miserable.

Or Candida, she thought, flinching as she recalled the sultry mouth, the body that swayed inside its clothes as if impatient to be free of them, and the sweet husky voice like poisoned honey.

How could any man resist her?

Deep within her something twisted in renewed agony, and she heard herself gasp.

‘Do not,’ she said aloud, her voice vehement. ‘Do not go there.’

But it was too late. And suddenly it was all too much, the throb in her ankle swamped by this other fiercer pain. She was alone, broke and scared. And she’d been through forty-eight hours of sheer trauma only to find a different kind of hell waiting for her in the place that should have been her refuge.

And Laine put her hands over her face, sank down on the edge of that immaculately smooth, alien bed, and wept, her whole body shaking with her sobs, until she had no more tears left.

CHAPTER THREE

FOR a long time after she was calm again Laine remained where she was, lying face downward on the bed, her fingers digging almost convulsively into the quilted satin of the bedcover.

But she knew she couldn’t stay there. Recognised, in fact, it would have been better if she’d never entered the room at all. Because Daniel was here, all around her, tormenting her senses and her memory.

The faint scent of his cologne was in the air. The subtle musky fragrance she’d always associated with him. That she’d breathed in so many times in the past with all the helpless longing of first love.

‘Time I wasn’t here,’ she said aloud.

She got slowly to her feet, meticulously restoring the coverlet to its former pristine condition. Making sure there was no untoward sign of her presence. And she managed to find her hairdryer, too—not where she’d left it, of course, but at the back of a shelf in the row of immaculately organised wardrobes.

Out of sight—out of mind, she thought as she crossed the living area to the other room. Rather like myself.

He’ll probably never know it’s gone.

And at that same moment she heard the rattle of a key in the front door.

Oh, God, she thought, her heart thudding. He’s back. I got out just in time.

She tossed the hairdryer onto the bed, and turned defensively, pulling the door shut behind her as Daniel came in. He looked preoccupied and not particularly good-tempered.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said stiltedly, wincing at the absurdity of the remark.

His tone was acid. ‘Who were you expecting?’

‘Well, not you. Not so soon.’ She paused. ‘You—startled me.’

‘I can see that,’ he said brusquely. ‘You look like a ghost.’ He walked over to her, putting a finger under her chin as his frowning gaze scanned her face.

‘Don’t.’ Laine pushed his hand away.

‘You’ve been crying,’ he said. ‘Why?’

‘Is it any concern of yours?’

‘Probably not. But I’ve no wish to share my living space with the human equivalent of a leaking tap.’ His mouth tightened. ‘Do us both a favour, Laine, and give some thought to growing up.’

He walked over to the other room, disappearing briefly to emerge a moment later with a laptop computer in a carrying case slung over his shoulder.

She braced herself, but he made no comment, so it seemed she’d covered her tracks successfully.

‘See you later,’ he tossed at her as he passed.

‘As if I had a choice,’ she returned bitterly as the door closed behind him.

And he would, of course, catch her looking like something the cat dragged in, with wet hair and her old robe. Although that was probably safer, under the circumstances. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel even a momentary attraction to her. Not that it was likely, she reminded herself, and went into her room to dry her hair.

Although thick, it was soft and fine, and needed skilful layering to give it any real shape. No chance of that, however, until she discovered just how dire her financial situation was, she thought as she put down her brush.

She dressed swiftly in a blue denim skirt and a thin, collarless white blouse. Her ankle was still making her flinch whenever she put weight on it, so she fetched some more ice cubes and stretched out on the sofa, resting the aching joint on a cushion.

But she couldn’t completely relax. Her mind was buzzing—on fire—teeming with stray images from the past, all as vivid as they were unwelcome.

Reminding her starkly that she could barely remember a time when she hadn’t been in love with him.

Recalling the day when, at six years old, she’d emerged on hands and knees from her special den in the garden and looked up to see him—this stranger—standing at Simon’s side, tall and dark against the sunlight.

‘I told you this is where she’d be,’ her brother had said, his voice teasing and affectionate. ‘Jamie built this little place as a hide, so he could watch birds, but as usual he got bored with it, and now it’s Laine’s. Get up, scrap, and be polite to my mate Daniel.’

As she scrambled to her feet, she said with dignity, ‘It’s my secret place. You’re not meant to tell.’

Daniel bent and carefully removed a dead leaf from her hair. ‘My lips are sealed,’ he said. ‘I promise.’ He paused. ‘Are you a birdwatcher too?’

She shook her head. ‘I come here to read.’

‘What’s the book of the moment?’

She looked back longingly. ‘Treasure Island.’

‘Good God,’ he said, exchanging amused glances with Simon. ‘So, who’s your favourite character?’

She gave it some thought. ‘I don’t think any of them are very nice. They’re all greedy, and Jim spies on people.’ She paused. ‘Ben Gunn isn’t too bad, I suppose, because he only wants toasted cheese.’

‘You heard it here first, folks,’ Simon said, grinning. ‘Stevenson, eat your heart out. Come on, Dan, let’s leave her to her pirates and get some tennis in before tea.’ He ruffled her hair, dislodging more dead leaves. ‘See you later, Lainie. And clean up a bit before Ma sees you. She seems a bit agitated today.’

‘That’s because Mr Latimer was here yesterday,’ Laine informed him. ‘She’s always in a bad mood after that, because she hates him. She calls him that “bloody man”.’

There was a brief silence, then Dan turned away, apparently overcome by a coughing fit, while Simon looked down at his younger sibling, his young face suddenly weary.

He said quietly, ‘But you don’t have to do the same, Lainie. Is that understood?’

She said uncertainly ‘Are you cross too?’

‘No,’ he said, forcing a smile. ‘No, of course not. It’s just that a visit from the trustee isn’t the ideal start to a vacation.’

It was good that Simon was home, Laine thought contentedly, as they departed and she went back to her book. Because it meant that Mummy would stop frowning, and smile instead.

The housekeeper, Mrs Evershott always sounded the gong for meals five minutes early, so she gauged she’d have plenty of time to wash her hands and comb her hair before tea.

But that day her mother had arranged for it to be served on the lawn, as a tribute to the good weather, and there was no way she could reach the house unobserved.

‘Elaine!’ Angela exclaimed from the shelter of her parasol. ‘What have you been doing? Rolling in mud? And where’s your hair ribbon?’ She turned to the others at the table, shrugging helplessly. ‘What a ragamuffin. A cupboard full of pretty dresses, and she insists on those old shorts.’

She sighed. ‘I don’t think her poor father would recognise his Lily Maid these days.’

‘Lily Maid?’ Daniel queried politely, while Laine stared down at the grass, shuffling her feet in their blue flip-flops, knowing what was coming next, and dreading it.

Angela sighed again. ‘My mother-in-law was a big Tennyson fan, and when she saw the baby for the first time she was folded in a white shawl—looking like a lily, apparently. So Mama persuaded Graham to christen her Elaine, after the girl in the poem—The Lily Maid of Astolat.’

There was a pause, then Dan said politely, ‘That’s a charming story.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Laine said with sudden fierceness. ‘Elaine’s a silly name, and Jamie says she was a wuss for dying just because Sir Lancelot wasn’t in love with her—and he says I’ll grow up to be a wuss, too, because I’m called after her.’

There was an odd silence, then Simon put down his plate and began to laugh, to be joined by Dan and eventually Angela.

‘It’s a bad day for literature in this house,’ Simon managed at last, wiping his eyes. ‘And we’re laughing with you, scruff, not at you. Now, come and have some tea, and I’ll have a word with Master Jamie when he shows up.’

Everyone had laughed that summer, Laine thought. It was one of the happiest she’d ever spent, and the start of many more.

And she’d had Simon and Daniel to thank for that.

Up to then, she’d been left pretty much to her own devices in the school holidays. Unlike Jamie, who’d attended a local preparatory school as a day boy prior to following Simon to their father’s old school in the autumn, Laine had made few friends locally. The other children at the village school, finding that she wasn’t interested in the latest junior fashions, and that she preferred reading to the television programmes they all seemed to watch, had tended to ignore her.

And even with her beloved books she’d found herself lonely at times.

But that holiday had been altogether different. The weather had been good, so they’d all been able to spend as much time outside as possible. And Laine had been included in all their activities. It had all been casual—no big deal. She’d just been expected to accompany them.

Until then she’d always been faintly nervous of the river that bordered the end of the Abbotsbrook grounds. She’d been learning to swim at school, but Angela had said firmly that the river was a very different proposition from the swimming baths in the nearby market town, and that Laine must keep well away from it at all times.

But Simon and Daniel had changed all that. Under their eagle-eyed supervision, her technique and confidence had surged ahead, until, as Simon had told their mother, she could swim like a fish.

‘Or an eel,’ Jamie had put in. ‘Eel-Laine.’ And he’d continued to torment her with the nickname, roaring with laughter at his own wit, until Daniel had taken him quietly to one side and stopped it.

But none of Jamie’s teasing had had the power to upset her. She’d been far too happy.

Some of the best days had been spent out on the water in the old dinghy. When the boys had fished, she’d been provided with a small rod and line to hunt for tiddlers.

If they’d played cricket she had cheerfully fielded for them, and had zealously located balls that had been hit into the shrubbery from the tennis court.

Most of all, they’d both talked to her as if they were genuinely interested in what she had to say.

But the holiday had ended far too soon for Laine. Simon had joined his school’s climbing club the year before, and had become swiftly and seriously addicted to the sport, so he’d been taking the last two weeks of his vacation in the Lake District, while Daniel had been summoned to join his father for a rare break in the South of France.

As goodbyes had been said, Laine had launched herself at Daniel, arms and legs wrapped round him, clinging like a monkey. Hugging him strenuously, she’d whispered, ‘I wish you were my brother, too.’

‘Elaine!’ Angela reproved. ‘Kindly stop making a spectacle of yourself. Daniel, do put the wretched child down. I must apologise to you for this ridiculous behaviour.’

‘It’s not a problem, Mrs Sinclair.’ He lowered Laine gently to the ground, ruffling her hair. ‘Please believe I’m very flattered.’

‘Also very tolerant.’ She offered him a limpid smile. ‘But you’re not a babysitter, you know. Perhaps on your visit at Christmas we can all do some rather more grown-up things.’

There was a brief, odd silence, then he said quietly, ‘Of course.’

Christmas, Laine thought ecstatically. He would be back at Christmas. He and Simon. And that would be the best present she could have.

Hero-worship, she told herself wearily, as she got up from the sofa to take the bag of melting ice cubes back to the kitchen. That was what it had been. The world’s most gigantic crush. A childish phase that she should have outgrown quite easily.

However, for the next five years, her entire life had seemed to take its focus from school and university vacations, and she’d waited for them with almost painful eagerness, knowing that Daniel would join them for a week or two at least.

Not that the holidays had been unalloyed delight any more. As she’d got older Laine had become aware that were undercurrents beneath Abbotsbrook’s seemingly tranquil surface. And that Mr Latimer’s all too regular visits were invariably a cause of friction.

She’d been curled up on the window-seat in her room one spring evening, when her mother’s voice, raised in complaint, had reached her from the terrace below.

‘I thought everything would change when you were eighteen,’ Angela was saying. ‘That you could persuade the wretched little man to keep his distance.’

He said tiredly, ‘Ma, the trust will stay in force until Jamie and Laine are both eighteen. You have to accept that.’ He paused. ‘And you’d see less of Latimer if you curbed your spending a little. Fewer weekend parties, maybe?’

‘Your father started them. And it’s the only way I can keep in touch with our friends when I’m buried down here all year round. I wish to heaven I could sell the place and move back to London.’

‘You know the terms of Dad’s will,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until Laine comes of age for that—if you still want to.’

‘I’ll want to,’ she said. ‘If the house is still standing, that is. The damned place is falling apart, and Latimer won’t release enough money to do what’s necessary. Then I have to put up with people treating the place as a shrine—turning up in droves so they can see the room—the desk—where he created “all those amazing fantasy novels, Mrs Sinclair”,’ she added, in a savage mimicry of a Transatlantic accent.

‘And I’m sick of them telling me what a tragedy it was he was taken so soon. Do they think I don’t know that? I’m his widow, for God’s sake. And he wasn’t “taken”. It was a heart attack, not abduction by aliens.’

‘Well, don’t knock the faithful fans,’ Simon advised crisply. ‘After all, it’s Dad’s royalties that have been paying the bills, and frankly they’re not as good as they were a few years ago. In fact, I wonder …’

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