Act of Betrayal (20 page)

of us can do that. But it doesn't solve anything anything.' Her

voice broke on the last word. Jason's hands tightened. He said,

'But there is a solution. And you know it.' He bent, and his

mouth took hers. For a moment she was still, then her trembling

lips parted and her body yielded against his. His kiss deepened

instantly, and his hands released their punishing grip on her

shoulders to slide sensuously down the slender lines of her body

to the swell of her hips, and then up again to her breasts, his

fingers outlining her nipples through the soft fabric of her

dress. When at last he lifted his head, his breathing was hurried

and his eyes glittered with a light which filled her with aching

remembrance. He said huskily, 'This isn't enough for either of

us. I want you, Laura. Come to me.' The urgency in his voice was

matched by the clamour in her own flesh. Her throbbing pulses,

the sensual quiver along her nerve endings signalled the

surrender of her body, but already her mind was sounding alarms.

Because he'd said 'Come to me' not 'Come back to me' and in one

small word there was spelled a whole world of difference. She

stepped away, pressing her hands against her flushed cheeks. Her

voice was almost inaudible. 'No.' 'Laura.' He turned her to face

him, his eyes ravaging her face. 'What the hell is this?'

She was shivering suddenly. It would be so easy to go into his

arms, to give him everything he wanted, to take everything that

she had ever needed. So easy, and yet so impossible, because down

that road lay humiliation and disillusion as she already learned

to her bitter cost. She wrapped her arms round her body, and

faced him, her chin lifted defiantly. 'I've never cared for

crowds,' she said, coolly and distinctly. 'I'm not joining your

harem again, Jason, now or ever. When I have a man, I need to

know that, as long as it lasts, he belongs to me, totally and

exclusively, and you don't fit into that category.' He was very

still for a long moment, then he laughed a harsh ugly sound in

the silence of the sunlit room. 'And do you find many of these

paragons, darling?' He asked with bitter cynicism. ' If your

reluctant chauffeur of the other night is a fair example, then

it's little wonder that you turn to fire each time I touch you.'

She winced under the sting of his words, but managed to shrug.

'Think whatever you want. But it doesn't mean I'll ever be

content with the crumbs from your table the odd moments you have

left over from your other women.' She paused. T assume Miss

Marshall will be sharing your new home.' 'Your assumption is

correct.' His eyes were granite hard as they watched her. She

said, 'Does…does my cousin know this?' 'Perhaps.' His voice was

dry. ' I haven't told her, but she has her own methods of

gathering information.' 'You don't think you should tell her?'

'When the time is ripe. Not before.' His mouth twisted

sardonically. 'For someone who's no longer concerned in my

affairs, you seem to be taking an extraordinary interest. But you

needn't fear for Celia. She's more than capable of taking care of

herself.'

' I don't want to see her hurt.' She spoke intensely. ' I don't

want to see any of my family hurt.' 'How compassionate,' he said.

'Why did you never extend the same clemency to me, Laura. I was

your family once. Who knows? I may even be part of it again one

day,' he added cynically. 'When you marry Celia?' She was aware

her breathing had quickened. 'My uncle would never allow it.'

'Your uncle wouldn't be consulted,' he said insolently. 'Anyway,

he has no reason to put a spoke in my wheel this time.' 'Except

that he dislikes you,' she threw at him. 'He'd have disliked

anyone you married,' he said. ' I expect to find him far more

amenable the second time around.' She said with difficulty, 'Of

course there's the contract. You…you have the upper hand now. I

was forgetting.' His smile wasn't pleasant. 'Unlike kindly Uncle

Martin. He has a great deal to remember these days.' 'He looks

ill,' she said bitterly. 'He isn't a young man, Jason. Couldn't

you find yourself a worthier adversary?' His smile deepened. 'Oh,

but I have, sweetness,' he told her gently. He picked up her

hand, kissed her soft palm, then released her, turning and

walking back to the french windows and out into the sunlit

garden. Laura drew a deep shuddering breath, then sank down on

the sofa burying her face in her hands. She felt shattered, her

senses and emotions in shreds. She couldn't think straight, but

out of the incoherencies whirling in her head came the certainty

that it would be better if Jason did not come back and find her

cowering here still, like a wounded animal. She forced herself to

the door, and out into the hall, intent on reaching her room. She

was halfway up the stairs when she remembered her precious

advertisements, and with a little groan, ran down again. In the

kitchen, Mrs Fraser was looking miffed. ' I wish Miss Celia would

advise me of her plans rather earlier,' she said. 'I'd no idea

there's to be guests tonight, and I only hope there are enough

cutlets to go round.' 'Well, I shan't be here for dinner,' Laura

said. 'So that should make everything right again. Mrs Fraser

when you tidied the drawing room, did you find some newspapers

and magazines, because they belong to me and I haven't finished

with them yet.' T did.' Mrs Fraser nodded acidly. 'All over the

sofa, they were. The room looked as if an earthquake had hit it.

You'll find them by the door in the laundry room. I wasn't going

to make a special trip to the dustbin with them,' she added

disapprovingly. 'Of course not. Thank you,' Laura managed

civilly, resisting an unholy impulse to spit in the housekeeper's

eye. She wondered if Mrs Fraser had seen all the little pencilled

circles and drawn her own conclusions, but there was nothing in

her demeanour to suggest this. Laura retrieved the pile and

carried it up to her room, stowing it in the recess under the

window seat. The familiar niggling battle with Mrs Fraser had

restored her equanimity to some extent, and it still seemed that

her only option was escape and as soon as possible besides. She

would put as much distance between herself, this house, this

family, this town this man"-as was humanly feasible. And she

would try to blot out from her consciousness the certain

knowledge that however far she might travel, Jason would go with

her, in her heart and in her mind.

IT had been a long hot journey, and a fruitless one, and Laura

was tired as well as despondent as she drove through the lanes.

She'd been for an interview to a private residential home for the

elderly in a neighbouring county. They'd advertised for a

cook/general help and Laura had guessed as soon as she arrived

that the duties would probably include lending a hand with the

heavy nursing. She'd been chilled to the bone by the comfortless

lounge, and the sad, hopeless faces she saw there, and worried by

the evasive answers which the proprietress had returned to her

careful questions about diet and nutrition. , She'd already come

to the reluctant conclusion that she and Mrs Fitzsimmons were

never likely to get along when the only qualified nurse in the

establishment had muttered out of the corner of her mouth, 'It's

a dogsbody she wants, dear. There's precious little cooking goes

on at this place, poor old beggars.' It was almost a relief to

have been told that Mrs Fitzsimmons felt an older person would be

more suitable, even though it was a response which set her teeth

on edge. Perhaps I should be less fussy, she told herself

miserably. Perhaps I should have ignored the fact that all I

could see in the kitchens were fish fingers and huge cartons of

instant mashed potato, and sold myself to that awful woman. And

perhaps pigs might fly, the other half of her mind returned

succinctly. But a wasted journey was always dispiriting,

especially in view of the fact that it was still too early to

return home. She'd managed to convey the impression to Celia that

she was off to visit an old school friend, so she wouldn't be

expected back for several hours yet. She glanced at her watch. If

she took the next left fork, she'd find her way to one of the

local inns situated on the river. She could sit in the garden and

watch the water flow under the little stone bridge while she had

a quiet drink and contemplated what her next move should be. And

later, she could eat there, too, which solved another problem.

It's ridiculous, she told herself, all this lurking round the

countryside, but it was also inevitable. If Celia had the

slightest inkling what she was up to, Laura knew she would tell

Jason immediately, and she did not want him to know anything. She

tried to argue with herself over and over again that even if he

did know, he would probably be totally unconcerned might even

think 'good riddance', but a more compelling instinct told her

that he wouldn't let her escape him so easily. That he would try

somehow to put a spoke in her wheel, for his own incomprehensible

reasons. And that was what she had to guard against at all costs.

That and the danger that she might be tempted to stay, waiting on

the fringe of his existence, hoping against hope . . . She tore

her mind back to the here and now, and realised, swearing mildly

under her breath, that she had missed her turning. It wasn't a

disaster, there was another crossroads a few miles further on,

just past... Just past Mill Cottage. The car was already slowing

to the pressure of her foot on the brake when she shook herself

mentally. Now that really was ridiculous. She coudn't spend the

rest of her time in the locality, weaving her way through the

lanes in order to avoid one house. Nor would Jason be there

anyway, she realised. It was far too early in the evening. He was

working late more and more, to Celia's open annoyance, and none

of her usual ploys from coaxing to sulks had produced the

slightest alteration in any of his plans. If he intended to marry

her, Laura supposed that it was only right Celia should know from

the start what she would have to contend with. But if she

imagined the company would be her only rival for his attentions,

then she would be bitterly wrong, Laura thought with a little

sigh. Celia had been disgruntled too that Jason hadn't allowed

her a free, or, in fact, any sprt of hand with the alterations

and re-decoration which had been going on at Mill Cottage. He'd

hired a top London firm, but had made it clear that they were

working on his instructions and his alone. If they hadn't hurt so

much, Laura would have found Celia's efforts to mask her baffled

resentment almost amusing. As the remnants of the mill ruins came

in sight, she found herself tensing, her fingers gripping the

wheel nervously. But she was worrying for nothing. The place was

empty, of course. In fact, for all she knew Jason wasn't even

living there yet. She always tried to switch off whenever Celia

raised the subject of Jason's activities in front of her. But

there was someone at the cottage she realised with dismay as the

car rounded the last slight curve in the lane. There was an

estate car parked on the grass verge in front of the low front

wall, and a woman's slim figure was moving about, taking things

out of the boot. At the sound of Laura's engine, she turned,

shading her eyes against the sun, and Laura recognised with a

sinking heart that it was Clare Marshall and that she was waving

and clearly expecting her to stop. Reluctantly she did so, but

kept her engine running. 'What a pleasant surprise.' The other

woman smiled at her as if it was true. 'Were you coming to visit

us?'

'Er…no.' Laura knew she was flushing, and hated herself for it.

'On the contrary, I was on my way to the Wild Goose and missed

the turning It might be the truth but it sounded feeble in the

extreme. Clare Marshall gave her a coaxing look. 'It's still very

early. Wouldn't you like a coffee or better still a lager? I put