Excerpt About the Author Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE EPILOGUE Copyright

“Tell me that desire isn’t crawling along your veins at this moment.”

He whispered to her in a low, wickedly seductive voice. “Tell me that you don’t want me to kiss you, caress you, make love to you now...here in this room...on this floor...in front of this fire. Tell me that you don’t want me, Judith. Tell me....”

About the Author

MIRANDA LEE is Australian, living near Sydney. Born and raised in the bush, she was boarding-school educated, and briefly pursued a classical music career before moving to Sydney and embracing the world of computers. Happily married, with three daughters, she began writing when family commitments kept her at home. She likes to create stories that are believable, modern, fast paced and sexy. Her interests include reading meaty sagas, doing word puzzles, gambling and going to the movies.

Night of Shame

Miranda Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

I CAN’T possibly face him, Judith agonised, her eyes squeezing shut against the thought of seeing him again. Seven years might have passed, but she had never forgotten or forgiven, either herself or the perpetrator of her shame and guilt.

‘What ever possessed you to invite him?’ she cried, green eyes flying open. ‘Tonight is a prewedding party, not a business get-together.’

The tall man standing by the mantelpiece continued calmly smoking his pipe, one hand resting on the marble shelf.

‘Did you hear me, Raymond?’ Judith said sharply. ‘I asked you why you invited Alexander Fairchild.’

Raymond sighed patiently then sat down in his usual armchair beside the fireplace. Leaning forward, he slowly stoked the burning logs. Sparks shot up into the chimney. He didn’t look at her, just stared into the glowing embers.

‘Why shouldn’t I have invited him?’ he said at last in an irritatingly calm voice.

‘Because you hardly know him, for one thing! You only met at lunchtime.’

He looked up then, and shrugged. ‘What has that got to do with anything? Besides, how was I to know it would cause trouble? I had no idea you even knew the man.’

Judith wanted to scream. How could he sit there, treating her panic so casually? Couldn’t he see she was in danger of falling apart?

Judith strode towards his chair, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. ‘Uninvite him, Raymond,’ she said in a low, desperate voice. ‘Please. I beg of you.’

‘You still haven’t explained what you’ve got against the man. Or where and when you met.’

‘He’s a bastard,’ Judith stated agitatedly. ‘A rotten bastard!’

One of Raymond’s eyebrows shot up. ‘It’s not like you to swear, my dear. Now why, pray tell, do you call him such names? He seemed a decent chap to me.’

‘You don’t know the man. I do. And I really do not wish to discuss him. You’ll just have to take my word for it.’

She spun away, face flushed, heart racing.

My God, I’ll have to stop this, she thought frantically. Or crack up completely. I must pull myself together. It’s the shock, that’s all. Suddenly hearing his name after all these years, and, worse, the prospect of actually seeing him again.

The thought of spending even one moment in his company was too much to contemplate, let alone a whole evening.

‘I can’t uninvite him,’ Raymond stated matter-offactly. ‘I don’t know what hotel he’s staying at.’

Judith whirled back to face her fiancé. ‘Then I simply can’t go. I won’t be in the same room as that man, I tell you.’

Judith knew immediately she’d taken the wrong tack with Raymond over this issue. When his face hardened, she sank down in the chair opposite him, her eyes pained and pleading. ‘Can’t you say I’m not well?’

His return gaze carried exasperation. ‘That’s quite impossible, Judith. Margaret is giving this party for you!’

Judith detested conflict and open confrontation of any sort. But her nerves were wearing thin over the situation and she found herself giving vent to her feelings for Margaret for once.

‘No, she isn’t,’ she snapped. ‘She can’t stand a bar of me. She’s giving the party for you, Raymond, her beloved big brother.’

Raymond’s expression was one of impatience. ‘I know you two don’t exactly hit it off, but at least she’s trying.’

‘She certainly is. Very trying. She’s hated me from soon after I came here to nurse your mother.’

‘Really, Judith, how can you say that? Mother’s illness was a big strain on the whole family. If Margaret was a bit short with you sometimes, it was prompted by worry.’

Judith could not trust herself to answer, looking down at the rug to hide her frustration.

Short! Margaret had been downright hostile from the moment it had become apparent that Mrs Pascoll had taken a real fancy to her new nurse. Even Judith’s seven years of dedicated nursing and looking after Raymond’s increasingly frail mother hadn’t tempered the animosity from his sister.

When Mrs Pascoll had died a few months back, and Raymond had asked Judith to marry him, all hell had really broken loose. Admittedly, Judith herself had found his proposal a shock, so she could almost understand Margaret’s feelings on the matter.

Judith had refused at first, but Raymond had been persistent and persuasive. They liked each other, he’d argued. They liked doing the same quiet things: reading, music, movies, the theatre.

Romantic love, such as it was, was for teenagers, he’d pointed out sensibly. True love was based more on companionship than passion. They could grow to truly love each other once they were married. He was sure of it. He had also promised her at least one child—another winning argument with Judith. She would never have seriously considered a childless marriage. Not at her age.

Raymond’s wealth had not been a major factor in her decision at all, yet when she’d finally consented to his proposal his sister had accused her of being a fortune-hunter. It was ironic that Margaret herself had, the previous year, married a much younger Latin-lover type with more looks than money, the complete antithesis of Margaret, who had more money than looks. Though Margaret pretended to be happy with Mario, Judith was convinced Raymond’s sister was as miserable as ever.

Raymond’s most convincing argument for Judith’s marrying him, however, had been that she could keep her own bedroom. He was not a highly sexed man, he’d explained. Not sexless, mind. Just not one driven by carnal needs. He’d confessed to Judith that for some years he’d had an arrangement with a lady-friend of his, whom he visited every couple of weeks. They were not in love, he’d assured her, and he would naturally terminate this intimacy once he was an engaged man.

It suited Judith very well not to have a husband driven by carnal needs. That kind of passion was something she could well live without. It made her shudder just to think of it. All Judith wanted from life these days was a peaceful existence. The last thing she wanted was emotional upheaval and traumatic confrontations. But seeing Alex again would bring both!

‘This party Margaret’s throwing tonight,’ Raymond said, ‘is her way of holding out an olive branch to you, Judith. You must come,’ he ordered, ‘no matter what.’

She looked up and studied Raymond. He was leaning back in the bulky armchair, a quietly autocratic figure, his pipe resting in the corner of his mouth.

He was not a handsome man. His sandy hair was receding, his face was long, his nose sharp, his eyes pale grey and piercing. On either side of his mouth deep grooves ran from his cheeks to his chin.

Despite these unprepossessing physical features, however, Raymond exuded a certain attraction which had nothing to do with his looks. Perhaps it came from the power which went hand in hand with wealth. Raymond was a very rich man. He also had a strong and decisive character which Judith both appreciated and had learnt to rely upon.

‘You really can’t avoid the issue, Judith,’ he insisted logically. ‘Why, exactly, are you so upset at the prospect of meeting Alexander Fairchild again? And why do you call him a rotten bastard?’

Raymond removed his pipe and gazed steadily at her, waiting for an answer.

Judith was silent. She sat stiffly, shifting her eyes towards the fire to avoid his penetrating regard. The flames danced before her but she did not see them.

‘Were you lovers at some stage?’ he asked.

‘No!’ she denied hotly while throwing him an apprehensive glance.

‘There’s no need to shout. I don’t expect you to be a virgin, Judith, at the age of twenty-nine.’

Her blush took them both by surprise. She’d meant to tell Raymond; had been waiting for the right moment. But it hadn’t presented itself yet.

‘Good God,’ he muttered. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Judith’s chin lifted in an odd defiance. ‘Does it matter? I thought men of your generation liked their brides to be virgins on their wedding night. I mean...I thought you’d be pleased.’

‘To be honest, I’m more surprised than pleased. You’re such a good-looking woman. And you were engaged once before, weren’t you? And not to a man of my...er...generation. I always imagined most young couples slept together before they married these days.’

‘Well, Simon and I didn’t,’ she said quite sharply, piqued that Raymond seemed to be finding fault in her virginity. ‘Our courtship took place while he was in hospital, recovering after a car accident. By the time he was fit and well and able to make love, we were engaged, and I...I wanted to wait. It was only going to be for another short month and Simon said he didn’t mind. He said it would make our marriage all the more special.’

Tears pricked at her eyes as she remembered him saying that, and the warm, understanding kiss which had followed. She knew he’d been frustrated by then, but he’d been prepared to wait. She’d been the one who hadn’t been able to wait in the end.

And it had cost Simon his life.

That overwhelming sense of guilt swamped her, fiercer than it had been for years. Dear God, would she never forget? Or forgive herself?

One thing was for certain. She would never forgive Alexander Fairchild. The man was as good as guilty of murder in her opinion. She hated him with a passion, hated him for doing what he’d done to her, and to Simon.

A silence had fallen in the room, the only sound the flames crackling in the hearth.

‘You must have had some sort of relationship with Fairchild,’ Raymond resumed at last with relentless logic, ‘or he wouldn’t be able to turn you inside out like this.’

‘He was Simon’s best friend,’ she choked out, as though that explained everything.

‘So?’ Raymond was clearly puzzled. ‘That doesn’t make much sense, Judith. Look, I know you were engaged to this Simon person, and that he was killed in a motor accident a couple of days before your wedding. But what does Fairchild’s being his best friend have to do with that? Your fiancé was alone in the car, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I don’t understand. Why don’t you try to make me understand, Judith?’

Shame compelled her to lie, plus the knowledge that Raymond would never understand or condone the truth. Not that she could blame him. She’d never understood or. condoned it herself.

‘Simon and Alexander had a violent argument that night,’ she explained, running her tongue over dry lips. ‘When Simon sped off crazily in the car, Alexander knew he was drunk and upset, but he...he didn’t try to stop him. He was directly responsible for the accident and Simon’s death, and I’ll never, ever forgive him!’

A frown creased Raymond’s high forehead. ‘What was the argument about?’

‘What?’

‘The argument between Fairchild and your fiancé.

What was it about?’

‘Oh...er...I don’t really know. There was a lot of shouting and a scuffle, then Simon drove off. What does it matter what it was about now? All I know is that Alexander was to blame for Simon’s death.’

‘You really think so?’

‘I know so! Why do you think I don’t want to go tonight? Why I can’t bear to be in the same room as him?’

Two totally exasperated eyes looked straight at her. ‘I never thought you were a fool, Judith, and I’m sure you’re not. I can well understand how distressed you must have been at the time of your fiancé’s death. But distress does have a way of distorting things in one’s mind. With the passing of the years, surely you can see now that Mr Fairchild was not to blame for the accident itself? A man is master of his own destiny. If your fiancé was drunk, he should have refrained from driving.’

Judith opened her mouth to protest but Raymond swept any objection aside.

‘Don’t forget how you originally met the man,’ he went on stolidly. ‘In hospital...after a car crash. Doesn’t sound like your Simon was the most sensible driver in the world. I think you’ve harboured an unfair grudge against Fairchild all these years, Judith, and it’s high time you put it aside.’

With a pompous flick of his wrist, Raymond checked the time on his wristwatch. ‘It is now six forty-three, my dear, and we are expected at eight. Let’s hear no more nonsense. Go and put on one of those glamorous gowns you’ve been buying lately. I want to be the envy of everyone there with my beautiful fiancée on my arm.’

Judith stared at Raymond. He actually meant it. He expected her to simply brush aside her distress as easily as he had and go to the party. He probably expected her to smile at Alexander and act as if nothing had ever happened between them.

He must have seen her shock for he suddenly leant forward and took her hands in his. ‘Come now, Judith, you can’t honestly expect me to ring Margaret up at the last minute and say you won’t be going. She would never understand.’

Judith nodded slowly. It was hopeless. She would have to go and that was all there was to it.

‘I am right, you know,’ Raymond insisted. ‘Your antagonism towards Fairchild is all out of proportion. Time has distorted things in your mind. When you see him again, you’ll recognise that. But if you find he still upsets you in any way, then simply avoid him. All I ask is that you be tactful. Now off you go like the sensible girl you are and get ready.’

Judith suppressed a sigh and rose automatically.

‘I’ll bet Fairchild has hardly given you a second thought in all this time,’ Raymond added with cold logic.

Those last words hit home, right to the core of her heart. He was right. No doubt Alexander hadn’t given her a second thought. She hadn’t been a real person to him, merely a weapon in his need for vengeance.

‘You’re quite right, Raymond,’ she said with a fierce hardening of her heart. ‘Quite right. Thank you for pointing that out to me.’

Judith turned and moved purposefully across the drawing room and out into the foyer, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

Damn you, Alexander Fairchild, she was thinking angrily. Why did you have to show up in my life again now? Now, when I’m on the verge of finally finding some happiness and peace of mind. Why couldn’t you have stayed in the past, a guilty ghost locked away for ever, together with my night of shame?

Fury and frustration carried Judith swiftly across the spacious foyer, but as she put her foot on the first step of the ornately carved staircase and her eyes lifted to follow the luxurious curve of peacock-blue carpet a disturbing memory struck. Her foot froze, her hand reaching out to curl tightly over the ornately carved knob at the bottom of the balustrade.

She’d been coming down such a staircase when she’d first seen him...

Judith shook herself violently. Her hand released its tormented hold and she continued her ascent, determined not to give in to the maudlin memories that had begun crowding around the edge of her mind. But it was difficult.

At the top of the staircase, she halted again, groaning as she realised the house itself was working against her. It kept reminding her of that other lavishly furnished house, the one to which Simon had taken her a week before their wedding.

Judith had known he came from a well-to-do farming family, but she still hadn’t been prepared for the splendour of his home, or the cool sophistication of his mother and sister. Everything had been so overwhelming that first day that she’d found herself acting far more gauchely than she ever had before. Tongue-tied, too.

Simon’s father had been quite nice to her, but his mother and sister had let her know, with cleverly disguised barbs, that they thought her highly unsuitable to be Simon’s wife. They’d also managed to make her feel hugely indebted to them for paying for the wedding, even though she hadn’t asked or expected them to. They’d insisted. Frankly, she would have much preferred a small, quiet ceremony in Shyness.

Judith had tried to dismiss their rudeness and cloak herself in Simon’s love, reminding herself constantly that she was marrying him, not his family, and they would live in Simon’s lovely little unit in Shyness, not out here in this daunting country mansion.

But then Alexander had arrived, and even the security blanket of her love for Simon had been snatched away. Judith could still remember walking down that staircase with its deep red carpet and the exquisite Chinese rug lying across the bottom.

She’d been putting her foot on that rug when the doorbell had rung. Not wanting to meet another new face that first day, she’d scuttled halfway back up the stairs before Simon’s voice had halted her mid-flight.

‘Where on earth are you running off to, Judith? That will probably be Alex. Wait on! Surely you want to meet our best man?’

She waited. Simon strode across the foyer to fling open the front door.

‘Alex! Great to see you again, old man. Come in, come in!’

Simon gave his friend a big bear hug, thumping him on the back. He was always like that. Warm. Affable. Not afraid to show his affection, like some men.

Alexander grimaced at first, as though he didn’t like being hugged. For a split second, he looked as if he would pull away, but then he glanced up over Simon’s shoulder and spotted Judith on the stairs.

He stared at her.

She stared right back, and her heart skittered to a faltering halt.

He wasn’t as handsome as Simon in the classical sense. His features were harsher, creating angles and shadows on his face which Judith found instantly, stunningly attractive. As dark as Simon was fair, Alexander’s ruggedly tanned face projected a masculine maturity which Simon’s pretty-boy looks lacked.

Simon had told her Alexander was the same age as himself—twenty-five—but he looked much older. There was a knowingness about his eyes as well, those penetratingly intelligent black eyes which rooted Judith to the spot on the stairs, seeming to see right into her soul—a soul which was in danger of damnation from the first moment they met.

His intense scrutiny seemed to go on for ever, yet it probably lasted only a few brief moments. It was long enough, however, for Judith to know that her love for Simon was a cruel illusion. Here was a man who could move her more with a look than her fiancé could with the most intimate of kisses.

When he finally looked away, Judith swayed, clutching wildly at the balustrade for support. She felt as if someone had stabbed her, so sharp was the constriction in her chest. A fierce flush spread over her cheeks, testimony to the overheated state of the blood which suddenly rushed through her veins.

‘Judith!’ Simon called. ‘Come down here and meet Alex. Yes, right now,’ he insisted when she hesitated in her fluster. ‘She’s a little shy, is my Judith,’ he explained to his silent friend. ‘But that’s why I love her so. No more blonde bimbos for me, Alex. I’m a changed man.’

How dreadful those next few days were. How confused she was. Simon was even more attentive and loving to her, and she simply could not bring herself to call off their engagement.

If only she had someone she could confide in...

But she was alone in Australia. Her family had emigrated from England when she was a child, but her older sister, Helen, had returned to England on a holiday and subsequently married there. When her father had died of a coronary two years ago, her mother had returned to London to live with Helen. She hadn’t had the money to fly over for the wedding. Besides, Helena had been eight months pregnant.

No, there was no one to confide in. No one to warn her that what she was feeling for Alexander Fairchild had brought down kings, and kingdoms. Only afterwards would Judith appreciate that mindless passion always exacted a price. At the time, she convinced herself that once the wedding was over and Alexander was out of their lives everything would be all right.

She did her best to keep out of his way that week, aware of the dangerous nature of her feelings, but he seemed to seek her out deliberately, as keen on her company as she was terrified of his. To give herself credit, she did make sure she was never alone with him, but that didn’t stop the longing. Or the dark desires. Her dreams were haunted by his presence, fiercely erotic dreams in which she went further than she’d gone with Simon. Much, much further.

Once and only once, Judith allowed herself the luxury of staring openly at him while he was deep in conversation with Simon’s sister. But, unexpectedly, Alexander suddenly glanced across the room and straight into her hungry gaze. She immediately wrenched her eyes away and fled the room, thoroughly ashamed of herself. Had he seen the lust lurking in her soul? she agonised. Had he seen the shameful truth?

Oh, yes, he’d seen, she soon accepted. And was already plotting how to use it for his own vicious ends.

‘Judith, what are you doing standing up there, staring into space?’ Raymond’s sharp words snapped her back to the present. ‘We’ll be late.’

Judith’s face betrayed nothing, but her heart was still thudding with her distressing memories. How on earth was she going to bear seeing that man again?

One look at the stern male face below made her see that she would simply have to see him. There was no other way out, unless she wanted to risk her relationship with Raymond.

Pride came to the rescue, demanding that she not let Alexander Fairchild destroy her life and her peace of mind a second time. Raymond was a good man and they would have a good marriage. If bells didn’t ring when he kissed her, then so much the better. Bells had certainly rung when Alexander had kissed her, but they’d never been going to turn into wedding bells. They’d tolled a different bell, leaving her to be crippled for years by guilt and shame.

‘I was just going,’ she told Raymond with surprising calm. ‘It won’t take me long to get ready.’

See, she told herself as she swept down the hallway and into her bedroom. You can handle this. You’re different now. You’re an adult, not some silly, impressionable young girl. He won’t get to you a second time. You simply won’t let him!

CHAPTER TWO

JUDITH’S bedroom was the last on the right-hand side of the upstairs hall. Its one large window looked out over the pool and showed a glimpse of Sydney Harbour through the tall trees which lined the back yard. The furniture in the room was dark and elegant, and of good quality walnut, the furnishings equally elegant, in rich cream and apricot colours.

Despite its sophisticated decor, it looked like a young girl’s room, for it was full of soft toys of every shape, colour and size. Most of them were bears, sitting in rows along the wall and on every available shelf. But there was also a pair of white rabbits perched on the armrests of the armchair under the window, and a huge pink elephant filling one corner. A long sausage dog called Woofa lay across the end of her bed, and a huge St Bernard called Berni stood guard next to the door.

Judith’s pride and joy, however, was her prized panda which shared her bed, getting under the sheets with her at night and lying contentedly against her pillows during the day. Peter Panda had been a present from her father on her eighth birthday, and had proved to be a great comfort to her in moments of loneliness or distress. She loved the feel of his velvet-soft fur, and his wonderful ability to listen to her complaints and confessions without a single critical word.

Judith had added to her collection of silent comforters during her growing-up years whenever she had money of her own. Each toy had been selected for its extra-soft feel and the expression of love and sweet sympathy in its eyes. Whenever she looked at them and held them, Judith instantly felt better. She believed they were worth their weight in gold, and had saved her a fortune in therapy and medication.

Raymond’s mother thought her toys cute. Raymond had simply smiled indulgently when he’d first seen them. Margaret had denounced Judith’s collection as neurotic and unhealthy.

‘I’ll bet she even talks to them,’ she’d sneered to Raymond one day.

Which, of course, she did.

‘You’ll never guess who’s turned up again,’ she told them all as she hurried into her room. ‘Alexander Fairchild! But don’t worry, I’m not about to make a fool of myself again. Can’t talk now. I have to get ready and I’m running late.’

Flinging open the doors of the wardrobe, she ran her eyes over the clothes hanging before her.

Judith had never been a flashy or a sexy dresser, not even back in her days with Simon. Nowadays, her attire was even more conservative. But Raymond was right. She’d been shopping for her honeymoon lately and had purchased a couple of outfits which might be described as glamorous. Raymond was going to take her on a South Pacific cruise and had instructed her to buy some clothes suitable for elegant evening dining.

Her hand moved to one such new purchase. Primrose-yellow, it was a deceptively innocent creation if one kept the jacket on. The dress, however, was styled like a petticoat, silky and clinging, with shoe-string straps holding up a bodice that moulded around her breasts like a second skin.

Judith stared at it for a moment, unsure of wearing such a provocative gown in Alexander’s presence. Till she reminded herself that her passion for the man had been a one-sided affair, his desire all being pretence. She could probably stand naked before him tonight and he wouldn’t turn a hair.

Angry defiance took hold of Judith at the thought. She threw the outfit onto the bed then marched into the shower. Some considerable time later, she stood in front of the dressing-table mirror, gnawing away at her bottom lip as she surveyed the dress again, now that it was on her body.

Judith was not a busty girl.

But still...

She gulped at the sight of her tall, slender form encased in that clinging yellow silk. The effect was not only sexy. It was downright seductive!

Despairingly, she dragged on the thigh-length jacket with its long sleeves and high Chinese collar, then took another look. Ah, that was much better. Her braless breasts, and especially her irritatingly hard nipples, were now well covered. No way did she want anyone misinterpreting any unfortunate body language, especially Alexander. She was determined to show him she felt nothing for him any more, nothing except a mild derision and a total lack of interest.

A loud rap on the door made her jump.

‘Ten minutes, Judith,’ Raymond ordered peremptorily through the door. ‘I’ll meet you downstairs, at the front door, right on the dot of seven forty-five.’

Judith bristled at Raymond’s officiousness, which was silly, because he wasn’t being any different from his usual self. He’d always been a bit bossy, and punctuality was an obsession with him. Being a trained nurse, she was used to schedules and appointed times. Usually, she found them comforting. But tonight, for some reason, she was irritated by Raymond’s autocratic attitude.

‘I’ll be ready, Raymond,’ she called back, gritting her teeth as she did so.

Turning back to the mirror, Judith set about doing her hair, deft fingers whisking her long chestnut-brown locks up at the sides, and anchoring it on top of her head with a gold and tortoiseshell comb. The rest she left to tumble halfway down her back, its natural wave demanding no attention other than a quick brush.

She’d already done her make-up, her clear olive complexion needing little adornment, just a brushing of blusher. At night, she always emphasised her large green eyes with mascara and earth-toned eye shadows. Her mouth, which was wide and full, did not really suit red lipsticks, so she generally stuck to browns.

Judith stared at the finished result in the mirror. She looked good. More than good. She looked glamorous, and sultry, and downright sexy.

‘What do you think?’ she asked her silently watching audience. ‘Too provocative? Yes? No? Say something, for pity’s sake!’ She whirled round to glare into Peter’s soulful eyes. ‘I know what you’re thinking. You think I want him to look at me—just once—with real desire in his eyes, don’t you? Don’t you?’ she repeated, stalking over to snatch the panda up and shake him.

‘Well, maybe I do,’ she admitted with a strangled sob, and hugged the panda tightly to her. ‘But there’s no danger of that happening, Peter. He never really fancied me, not one little bit. He just pretended. He didn’t want me. He just wanted revenge!’

It had happened two days before the actual wedding, the night of the big party, when everyone for miles around came to meet Simon’s prospective bride. Anyone who was anyone, that was. Simon’s family only mixed with the best in country society.

Judith felt ill-at-ease all night in her simple green party dress, especially when Simon kept leaving her alone for great chunks of time on end. She’d never been one for mixing at parties, not having been blessed with Simon’s easy charm. Several times, she felt Alexander’s intense gaze upon her, but she steadfastly resisted looking back at him.

By the time the antique clock on the wall in the main living room struck midnight, the party was in full swing. Drinks flowed. A lot of people were merry, and many were downright drunk. A sozzled Simon had just reappeared after another absence, only to immediately excuse himself again. He’d said he was going to get her a drink, despite her protest that she didn’t want another. She’s already had far too many glasses of champagne on her relatively empty stomach, and her head was beginning to spin.

Five minutes went by, then another, and he did not return. She was about to go in search of him when Alexander appeared by her side, a glass of white wine in his hand.

‘Simon asked me to bring you this,’ he said. ‘His mother wanted him for something. He shouldn’t be too long. Do you mind if I stay and talk to you for a while?’

His eyes locked with hers and immediately she was lost. ‘I...no, I...I don’t mind,’ she said shakily.

They talked and talked. Simon didn’t come back and Judith scarcely noticed. Alexander told her how he and Simon had become best friends while doing an economics degree together at Sydney Uni a few years before, but that whereas Simon had gone on to a position as a trainee executive in a large insurance company he had had to give up his own banking career to return to run the family farm near Goulburn. His father had tragically lost both his legs at the knees when he’d been run over by the tractor.

Judith found him a man of great depth, not at all what she’d expected. She would have preferred to find him shallow and insincere, unworthy of her mad longings—someone she could despise and thereby kill her infatuation.

But any despising was not to come till much later. That night she found nothing to despise, only to desire.

An hour passed. Alexander went in search of the still missing Simon, only to return alone, a dark frown on his face. Abruptly, he took the now empty wineglass from her hand and asked her to dance.

What madness! What joy! She could touch him and no one could condemn her. She could revel in his nearness, for she was safe in the company of others.

But he steered her away, first out onto the terrace and then down into the extensive grounds. When they reached a secluded spot behind a hedge, he swung her to a stop and just stared down at her. She was both afraid and thrilled by the look in his eyes. When he kissed her, the dam of desire she’d tried so hard to bottle up spilled wide open and all her passion for him poured forth.

Oh, such a torrent of feeling it was. Such a flood of longing. She was just swept away. Within minutes he had her on the ground, her clothes pushed aside. She was panting beneath him, eyes squeezed shut, mouth agape.

Alexander was only a second away from total possession, Judith clinging to him in abandoned submission, when the cold clarity of Simon’s voice froze her with shame.

‘You lying, cheating little bitch!’

Alexander rose quickly, pulling down her skirt and adjusting his own clothing with amazing speed. Judith just lay there on the grass, stricken with shame. Her eyes were round with shock. How could you have done this? her conscience cried piteously.

Simon was no longer looking at her but glaring at Alexander, wild fury in his eyes. His arm swung round with violent intent, but Alexander warded off the blow with his elbow. Simon swayed, and Judith saw that his cheeks were flushed and his eyes bloodshot. He was very, very drunk, she realised as she scrambled to her feet at last.

‘Please, Simon,’ she said pathetically, grasping at his arm. ‘I...I’m sorry. I—’

He struck her. A savage blow to the side of her head, sending her sprawling. Alexander grabbed her before she fell to the ground, then whipped round to face Simon. ‘I’ll kill you, you bastard,’ he threatened. ‘Touch her again and I’ll kill you.’

‘She’s all yours, dear friend,’ came the sneering retort. ‘Screw her to death for all I care.’

Simon lurched across the lawn and into his blue Aston Martin. The car burst into life and screeched off down the drive, sending a shower of gravel scattering at their feet. They didn’t even have time to speak to each other before they heard the sound of the crash and saw the fire-ball in the distance.

Simon’s family and friends never found out why he’d driven off so crazily to his death. Alexander didn’t confess to anything. Judith had begged him not to. And when he announced that he wasn’t able to stay for the funeral, a sudden downturn in his father’s health calling him home, she thought it was for the best. How could she possibly stand by his side at Simon’s graveside?

By the time Simon was buried, her guilt was overwhelming. She knew then that it would take her a long time to get over what she’d done. Her only comfort was the knowledge that Alexander must truly love her to have betrayed his best friend like that, as she must truly love him.

He’d promised to come back and get her in a couple of days. She was counting the moments till his arrival, wanting to get right away, away from the misery in that home, away from the scene of their crime, so to speak.

But it wasn’t Alexander who came. It was his sister, Karen...

Judith was lying down in her room when she was told there was someone on the front veranda to see her. The visitor refused to come inside.

Puzzled, Judith went downstairs and out on to the veranda, gazing with curiosity upon the pretty dark-haired young woman waiting there. She’d been crying, Judith noted.

‘You’re Judith Anderson, Simon’s fiancée?’ the girl asked.

‘Yes.’ But who on earth was she?

The girl pulled out a crumpled handkerchief from a plain black handbag and blew her nose. A thick lock of hair fell across her eyes and she agitatedly pushed it aside. The gesture reminded Judith of someone, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on who.

‘I’m sorry,’ the girl blubbered. ‘I’m really sorry.’ Then she totally lost control and the tears flooded anew.

Judith took her elbow and led her to the long seat against the wall. ‘Let’s sit down,’ she said gently, ‘and you can tell me what you’re sorry about, plus who you are.’

The girl lifted her tear-stained face, her brown eyes widening. ‘Oh, that’s right. I forgot. I...I’m Karen Fairchild, Alex’s sister.’

Of course, Judith realised. The same forehead and hair—hair that was always falling forward.

‘If only I’d known,’ Karen blurted out. ‘I’d never have told Alex. Never! But he was insisting that I come to your wedding, and I just couldn’t.’

With that she buried her head in her hands and wept some more.

Judith’s thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion. What terrible thing was this girl trying to tell her?

‘What shouldn’t you have told your brother?’ she asked slowly, already dreading the answer.

The girl looked hard at Judith now and the weeping stopped. ‘I’m not sure you’ll want to hear this, you having loved Simon. But I loved him too and I’ll never forgive Alex if he was to blame for Simon’s death. He didn’t say much when he came home but I knew. I just knew he’d done something.’

Judith stood up abruptly and walked over to the edge of the veranda, her heart thudding heavily in her chest. She took a deep breath to calm herself and turned to face her visitor.

‘Let me get this clear, Karen. You were in love with Simon?’

The girl nodded.

‘And Alex found out?’

‘That’s part of it...’

‘So what’s the other part?’

Karen looked upset, as though she wished she hadn’t started this confession. ‘I suppose I’ll have to tell you it all now,’ she said unhappily, then fell silent.

Judith waited for her to go on, unable to trust herself to speak. The feeling of foreboding was fierce within her heart.

‘Last Easter,’ the girl began at last, ‘Simon came down to stay at the farm for a few days. Alex had to work most of the time and I...well, it fell to me mostly to entertain Simon.

‘It wasn’t Simon’s fault. Really and truly. I threw myself at him and he...well...I knew he didn’t really love me, that it was just...you know. But I didn’t care. I was mad about him. I even told him it was safe. I had this silly idea that you couldn’t get pregnant the first time. By the time I realised I was, I knew there was no chance between Simon and me. He’d been gone for weeks and hadn’t answered any of my letters. Then Alex got a note saying he’d met this great girl and was going to marry her...’

Karen looked wretched and Judith just stared at her.

She was not feeling what she should be. She was not shocked over Simon’s less than gallant conduct, just increasingly terrified of hearing what she feared would come next. Her expression must have revealed some of her turmoil for Karen rose and came forward and took her hand in a gesture of sympathy.

‘I’m truly sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I know this must be hurting you, but I have to make you understand. I have to know.’

‘Go on,’ said Judith coldly, drawing her hand away. No one warmed to the bearer of ill tidings.

‘I had an abortion,’ came her reluctant admission. ‘An aunt of mine in Sydney helped without telling the rest of the family, but when I came home I had a type of nervous breakdown. Everyone tried to find out what was wrong but I never told them.

‘Then the invitation to your wedding came and Alex thought it would cheer me up to go. I couldn’t cope with that and refused to come. The night before Alex left to come here he tried to persuade me again. I’m afraid I became hysterical and told him the truth.

‘I’ll never forget the look on his face. It was horrible. I tried explaining that Simon wasn’t to blame but he didn’t believe me. Alex is not one to forget or forgive. I knew he’d do something awful, and he did, didn’t he? Simon’s dead...’

All the blood had drained from Judith’s face. Karen’s words were almost too distressing to contemplate, the truth behind them starkly plain for Judith to see. Alexander had used her, used her to gain revenge. Maybe he wasn’t a murderer in the literal sense of the word, but he was very definitely to blame for the circumstances leading up to Simon’s death. She could well have understood his beating Simon up, but to involve an innocent party...

Innocent? How could she call herself that? She hadn’t been innocent. She’d allowed herself to be seduced, had wallowed in the moments of betrayal almost as much as Alexander had. Even poor dead Simon could not claim total innocence. He should have protected his friend’s kid sister, not slept with her.

The only true innocent in all this was the girl standing in front of her, who could be no more than seventeen. She didn’t deserve to suffer any more. Judith knew her own life was destroyed. She could not destroy Karen’s further.

‘Tell me I’m wrong,’ the girl pleaded. ‘Tell me Alex wasn’t in any way to blame for Simon’s death. I’ve been so afraid.’

Judith gathered all her mental and emotional strength. ‘Let me assure you, Karen,’ she lied staunchly, ‘that Alexander had nothing to do with Simon’s death. Simon was entirely at fault. He went joyriding in his own sports car while drunk. He lost control on some gravel on a corner, skidded off the road and crashed into a tree. Alexander had nothing to do with it. He and Simon had been getting along famously all week so Simon must have made him understand what happened where you and he were concerned.

‘For pity’s sake don’t accuse him of anything. Let it go, Karen. Go home and let it go. Now, if you’ll excuse me I must go and get ready to go home too. I have to catch tonight’s train back to Sydney.’

She didn’t wait to see the relief in the girl’s face, walking back inside like some half-charged robot. She went upstairs to her room, where she sat down and wrote to Alex, telling him she was sorry but she knew they would never find happiness after Simon’s death and she didn’t want to see him ever again.

It wasn’t till much later that she realised what a futile gesture it had been. She’d thought she was protecting Karen at the time, but of course Alexander would never have come after her. The only thing she’d gained by writing that letter was that she’d started taking control of her life again after being severely out of control since meeting him.

After posting the letter, she’d taken the train back to Sydney that night, quit her job and her shared flat, then accepted the first live-in nursing job she could find. She’d been installed in the Pascoll home within thirty-six hours of arriving at Central Station.

Judith shook herself back to the present, taking some comfort this time not from hugging Peter Panda but from the harsh memories themselves. Remembering what had happened would keep her on her guard against Alexander tonight.

Not that she really had anything to fear. Alex’s own conscience should keep him at bay this time. It would take an especially wicked individual to ignore his own ignominy and act as if it had never happened.

Judith didn’t doubt that Alexander was going to get quite a shock when he saw her tonight. And in a way that gave her a perverse sense of satisfaction. The man should never be allowed to forget what he had done. When he saw her he would be forced to remember. She might even slip in the odd barb or two, make him suffer a little as she had suffered over the years. At the same time she would give the impression that she had well and truly recovered and was on the verge of a superbly happy life.

It would not be easy to put all that across, but she was determined to do it.

But when she placed Peter back on her bed and turned to pick up her tapestry evening purse from her dressing-table she became aware of dozens of black beady eyes following her every movement. For the first time in her life, Judith found no comfort in her friends’ presence. They seemed to be looking at her with worry, not warmth. Peter especially.

‘I’ll be careful,’ she said at last. ‘I promise.’

And, steeling herself, she left the sanctuary of her bedroom and hurried along the hall in the direction of the stairs.

Raymond was already waiting for her at the door, looking a little agitated, probably because she was a few minutes late. His eyes lifted to watch her descent and when her jacket flapped open the shock on his face was evident.

His reaction annoyed her. ‘Don’t you like the way I look?’ she was driven to ask when she joined him.

‘What? Oh, yes...of course.’ He gave her another long, frowning look. ‘You look quite...striking.’

‘Thank you, Raymond,’ she returned coolly, irritated that his admiration had been so slow in coming. If you could call the way he was looking at her admiration. His expression was more like one of troubled speculation. Judith sighed inwardly. She certainly didn’t seem to be finding favour with him tonight.

Not that she could really blame him. She wasn’t being her usual quiet, amenable self, that was for sure.

Feeling suddenly guilty, she linked an affectionate arm through his and gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ she said soothingly. ‘I’ll be nice to Margaret tonight, and I promise I won’t make a scene with Mr Fairchild.’

Raymond relaxed a little and patted her hand. ‘Thank God for that. I’m having important business dealings with the man and I wouldn’t like anything to interfere with them.’

Important business dealings?

Judith blinked her confusion. Raymond’s business was a large frozen food company inherited from his father, it’s main products being vegetables. His life was running this company, and he ran it very profitably. When he’d told Judith about his having to put off a business dinner with Alexander and invite him to the party tonight instead, she’d assumed he was signing him up to supply fresh vegetables. Alexander was, after all, a farmer.

‘I’m not sure I understand,’ she said. ‘What kind of important dealings?’

‘I want to buy some land from him,’ Raymond explained as he opened the front door. ‘I’m going into the crop-growing business myself. It’ll be much cheaper in the long run than buying supplies from various farmers.’

‘You mean you’re buying Alexander’s farm?’

‘What on earth are you talking about, Judith?’

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Oh, I see. Alexander’s given up farming and gone back into banking.’

Now Raymond was the one who looked puzzled. ‘Banking? Fairchild’s no banker. He’s in real estate. Owns great tracts of rich land in the Riverina and along the Southern coastline.’

‘But...but...’

‘Come, Judith,’ he said, ushering her out of the door. ‘No more talk of Fairchild. It’s nearly eight. You know how I do so hate to be late. Luckily, I’ve already got the car out.’

CHAPTER THREE

THE night was cold outside. Sydney in August was still nippy, and often windy. Spring was nearly a month away.

Judith shivered as they hurried down the front path and over to the waiting grey Mercedes. It was all very well for Raymond to dismiss Alexander from his mind. Judith’s mind had never been that kind. She’d tried to dismiss him over the last seven years, but had never really succeeded.

Now he’d been forcibly thrust to the forefront of her thoughts again but he wasn’t even the same man she remembered. How on earth had he gone from being a small-time farmer to a high-powered real-estate man in only seven years? It seemed impossible. Unless he’d inherited money.

Or married it...

The thought of Alexander marrying had never occurred to her before, which was crazy. Why shouldn’t he be married? The man was now thirty-two years old.

She ached to ask Raymond if he was aware of Alexander’s marital status, but knew it would be too revealing a question. Her own inner churnings over the matter were revealing enough as it was. Why should she care if he was married or not? She hated the man, didn’t she?

Raymond drove as he always did. In silence. He needed to concentrate, he’d told her the first night he’d taken her out to the ballet—about a year ago. And she always obliged by not indulging in any distracting chatter.

Normally, she found this quite relaxing, but tonight it gave her too much time to think. What would have happened, she agonised, if Alexander’s sister hadn’t told her the truth? Would she have run after Alexander when he hadn’t shown up as promised? What excuse would he have made not to have any more to do with her? Guilt?

Perhaps. Probably. And she would have believed him. Her own guilt had been crushing.

Her head whirled and her thoughts tumbled on. What would have happened, too, if Simon hadn’t followed them that night and caught them in the act? Judith didn’t believe Alexander’s intention had been to cause Simon’s death. She believed he had come to the house that first day intending to have things out with his supposed best friend. She’d witnessed his tension during that first hug.

But then he’d spied Judith, stupid, smitten Judith, standing there drooling open-mouthed over him, and his plan had immediately changed from open confrontation to devious revenge. He would seduce Simon’s silly fiancée, maybe even make her pregnant, as Simon had Karen. He would destroy Simon’s happiness, uncaring if he destroyed hers at the same time.

Ruthless, he’d been, in his vengeance. Quite ruthless.

Admittedly, there’d been evidence of some regret afterwards. He’d seemed genuinely distressed by Simon’s death. But it had been too late then, hadn’t it? Too late for Simon. Too late for herself...

Judith’s stomach churned as she thought of all she’d suffered at his hands. God, but she hated him, hated him with the same kind of passion which had once filled her with desire. The only desire she had now was to see him in hell—the same hell he’d consigned her to all those years ago!

‘We’re ten minutes late,’ Raymond pronounced as he turned the Mercedes into Margaret’s street, a very fashionable address in Hunter’s Hill.

‘We’ll still be the first ones here, Raymond,’ she said, knowing from experience that when people said parties started at eight most of the guests turned up at nine, or later.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the lovely old two-storeyed home Raymond had bought and presented to Margaret as a wedding present, the absence of other cars at the kerb or in the driveway confirming Judith’s opinion that they were the first arrivals.

‘Mr Fairchild doesn’t know I’m your fiancée, does he?’ she asked as they made their way up the steep front steps.

‘I certainly never told him,’ Raymond replied. ‘And there are no photographs of you on my desk. You know I don’t go in for that kind of sentimentality,’ he said firmly, and rang the doorbell.

Judith frowned at this last remark as they waited silently for the doorbell to be answered. Were all men as practical and pragmatic as Raymond? Was sentiment a strictly female prerogative?

Surely not, she decided. Simon had been a very warm and sensitive man. It had been the first thing she’d noticed and loved about him.

Judith herself felt things very deeply and was quickly moved to sympathy for the plights of others. That was why she’d decided to be a nurse in the first place. Unfortunately, however, sometimes she felt things too deeply.

After she’d completed her training as a nurse, she’d worked in the Aids ward for a while, but had finally had to request a transfer to a general ward after breaking down once too often. She’d been just too heartbroken at her patients’ suffering and their lack of any real hope.

Over the years she’d learnt to control her emotions better, especially in public, but she was still a softie underneath, crying copious tears at sad movies. Letters from her mother or her sister could start her off, as did pictures of neglected and abused animals in newspapers. She usually hid her tears, however, turning to her toy friends for comfort rather than real people.

Raymond would be embarrassed if she ever blubbered all over him. It was as well, Judith decided now, that she was to keep her own bedroom after they were married. At least there she had Peter to blubber all over. He didn’t mind one bit!

‘For pity’s sake stop worrying about Fairchild,’ Raymond snapped suddenly, breaking into her thoughts. ‘He might not even turn up. You know how people are about parties these days.’

Judith’s heart leapt momentarily at the possibility that she still might escape the awful prospect of coming face to face with Alexander again. But somehow she didn’t think fate was going to be that kind.

‘He’ll show up,’ she muttered.

Raymond shot her a sharp look. ‘You promised you wouldn’t make a scene.’

Judith sighed. ‘I won’t, Raymond. But I’m not going to pretend I’m thrilled about seeing him again.’

‘Just don’t do or say anything that might jeopardise my business dealings with him.’

Judith fell silent, hurt by Raymond’s total insensitivity towards her feelings on this matter. It showed her just where she rated with the man she’d agreed to marry. She would always play second fiddle to his business. She would never come first. Never.

Judith’s unhappy thoughts were scattered by the opening of the front door and the appearance of Margaret’s sleazily handsome husband. Admittedly, Mario did cut a fine figure of a man in the black silk-blend dinner suit he was wearing, but there was something infinitely repulsive about his oily, slicked-back hair and slightly feminine features, not to mention his overly effusive manner.

‘Ray! Judy! Marge will be so pleased you’re finally here.’ His Latin accent was attractive but his penchant for nicknames annoyed Judith to death. ‘It wouldn’t do for the guests of honour to be too late, would it?’

He babbled on as he ushered them both into the hallway. The central heating, rather stuffy after the crisp air outside, enveloped Judith, causing beads of perspiration to break out on her forehead. She drew a tissue from her purse, dabbing nervously at her face.

‘Here, Judy,’ he said, stepping round behind her. ‘Let me take your jacket. You look hot.’

With one swift movement, deft fingers removed the security of her jacket. Judith glanced apprehensively over her shoulder, only to see two lecherous dark eyes raking over her bosom. She flushed under Mario’s lustful stare and turned to Raymond for sanctuary. Swiftly linking her arm through his, she was about to bustle him into the large living room on their left when she was halted by the sight of Margaret floating down the stairs towards them in lavender chiffon.

Dear Lord, what an unattractive woman she was!

Her looks were similar to her brother’s, but where he could be described as tall and lean Margaret was skinny and shapeless. Raymond was able to carry off a long face and large nose with distinction. On his sister, they looked horsy. The down-turn of a sour mouth didn’t improve things, either.

‘How naughty of you to be late, Raymond, love,’ she said brushing her brother’s cheek with a kiss before flicking cold eyes over Judith. ‘My, that’s a daring little dress you’re wearing tonight, Judith.’

‘She has the figure to wear it,’ Raymond retorted, surprising Judith with his defence of her. In the past, Margaret’s snide remarks had seemed to go right over his head. She smiled her gratitude at him but he didn’t smile back, his eyebrows bunching together as he scowled down at her cleavage.

Judith’s heart leapt when the front doorbell rang behind her, but it wasn’t Alexander who was ushered in. It was a couple she didn’t recognise. Frankly, she didn’t recognise any of the people who arrived over the next hour, other than Raymond’s secretary, who came on her own. A widow in her early forties, Joyce was a pleasant but rather plain woman who had worked for Raymond for eons and was devoted to him.

Judith found herself introduced to distant relatives of Raymond’s she’d never met before, then half a dozen business associates and their wives, plus several sophisticated couples who were part of Margaret and Mario’s social set.

They all gave Judith a thorough once-over, and once again Judith got the impression she was found wanting as a bride-to-be. Too young for Raymond, their eyes seemed to say. And far too flashy.

But Judith was beyond caring what any of them thought. She stood by Raymond’s side near the marble fireplace, smiling plastic smiles and sipping champagne while her whole attention was riveted on the doorway which led back to the front hall. She was watching and waiting for Alexander to arrive, dreading it, yet desperate for it at the same time. There was nothing worse than waiting for something awful to happen. Far better to get it over and done with.

But Alexander didn’t arrive. Nine o’clock came and went. The introductions dried up and the party settled into full swing. More champagne flowed. Finger food was served from circling trays. The tone of the background music changed to a dancing beat.

The more sedate guests found chairs and sofas while the young at heart spilled from the main living room into the large family room beyond, where they could dance on the polished wooden floor. Raymond and Judith settled in a corner of the lounge room, along with Margaret and Joyce, while Mario was off dancing and flirting as usual.

Judith wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or not by Alexander’s non-appearance. There was a tight pain in her chest from holding herself in anticipation of seeing him again which was not at all relaxing. When the sound of the doorbell came again—at least fifteen minutes after the last arrival—she suddenly felt faint. This was him. She just knew it.

‘Perhaps that’s our errant Mr Fairchild,’ Raymond whispered in her ear as Margaret rose and went to answer the door. ‘I sincerely hope so.’

Judith felt Joyce’s eyes on her as she waited in stiff silence for Margaret’s return. Why was Raymond’s secretary staring at her like that? she wondered. Did she look as pale as she felt? And as petrified?

Please, God, don’t let me still feel what I once felt for him, she prayed as she waited. I couldn’t bear it.

She stared blankly down into her half-empty glass of champagne, flinching when Raymond abruptly got to his feet.

‘Alexander!’ he boomed in a hearty greeting. ‘You made it. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.’

‘I had a business dinner I couldn’t get out of,’ came the deeply timbred reply. ‘I came as soon as I could get away.’

A shudder ran through Judith at the sound of that voice. So utterly male. So impressively mature. It hadn’t changed one bit.

Her eyes slowly lifted, following the length of his tall frame, which was casually yet elegantly encased in a beige woollen suit and a black crew-necked sweater. Shock rippled through her when her gaze reached his face, for there he had changed.

Never a classically handsome man, the years had etched a brutal harshness on his already sharp features, and he looked every one of his thirty-two years. His once longish, wavy black hair was cut very short on top, the sides slicked ruthlessly back. His skin was weathered and deeply tanned. There were deep lines around his mouth, crow’s-feet around his eyes and a smattering of grey at his temples. He looked tough as teak, and every inch the ruthless bastard she’d always believed him to be.

Hard black eyes suddenly met hers, and for a moment he stared at her in total astonishment.

‘Judith?’ he said, his voice a shocked rasp.

Judith was speechless as she gazed up at him. Nothing had changed, she realised with a sinking heart and a rapidly escalating dread. Nothing...

‘You know Judith?’ Margaret said, her thin eyebrows arching in surprise.

‘Mr Fairchild’s an old friend of Judith’s,’ Raymond supplied into the decidedly thickening atmosphere. ‘They haven’t seen each other in years. No doubt you’re somewhat surprised to find you already know my fiancée, Alexander. I know Judith was a bit taken aback when I dropped your name this evening, weren’t you, darling?’

‘Indeed I was,’ came her amazingly calm reply. It showed Judith she was far more capable of handling the situation than she would ever have expected. Inside she was a mess, but it didn’t show on the outside, she realised with enormous relief.

‘How are you, Alex?’ she asked with cool composure, a light smile playing on her lips. ‘You’re looking fit and well. Raymond tells me you’ve gone into real estate.’

‘That’s right.’

Judith gained some satisfaction from seeing that her adversary was far more rattled than she appeared to be. His nostrils had flared wide at the revelation that she was Raymond’s fiancée. Now he was frowning as though he could hardly credit his misfortune in meeting up with her again.

‘How did you and Judith come to be friends?’ Margaret insisted on knowing. ‘Goodness, I hope you’re not some long-lost love come to claim Raymond’s fiancée at the last moment,’ she added, with a dry little laugh.

Judith felt sick at this ironic remark. Love had never come into it. Not even on her side. She could see that now. Her feelings for Alexander were exactly the same as they’d been seven years ago. It was lust, not love. One look, and her body still snapped to attention, craving the chemistry only he could evoke. Yet she loathed the man. How perverse could one get?

‘Hardly,’ Alexander drawled. ‘Judith was once engaged to my best friend.’

‘Really?’ Margaret was all ears. ‘I had no idea you were engaged before, Judith. Did you know she was engaged before, Raymond?’

‘Yes, of course I did,’ he snapped. For once, he was looking at his sister with irritation. ‘Judith doesn’t like to talk about it. Her fiancé was tragically killed in a road accident a couple of days before the wedding.’

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