Romance of a Lifetime (6 page)

'I'll meet you there,' he added quickly.

'But——'

'You really should go and answer that telephone; whoever it is doesn't seem about to give up.' He took her key out of her hand and unlocked the door for her, pressing the key back into her hand. 'Goodnight, Beth.' He bent and slowly brushed his lips against hers, his eyes dark as he turned her gently and pushed her inside her room, closing the door softly behind her.

Beth stood dazedly just inside the room, one hand slowly moving up to touch her lips where they still tingled from the caress of Marcus Craven's. It had been the briefest of touches, and yet it had been as if an electric shock had coursed through her body. It had been—-

Oh, damn, the phone!

She glared at it resentfully as it continued its insistent ringing. Marcus was right—whoever it was seemed very determined.

Her mother…

Oh, God, what had her mother found out that was important enough to ring her this time of night?

'well, say something!' Katherine demanded impatiently at her continued silence, Beth sighed, having sat down on the side of the bed. 'What is there to say?'

'What is there…? What…?' her mother spluttered. 'Didn't you hear what I said—Charles is going to name Martin as his heir instead of you!'

She had heard her mother the first time. It didn't seem unexpected to her, in fact it was an obvious move on her father's part if she sat and thought about it logically. As far as her father was concerned she had let him down as a daughter, and now he had no further use for her. She certainly hadn't thought he would want to name her as his heir, had been left in no doubt how he felt about her.

'It's only to be expected, Mu—- '

'Not by me, it isn't,' her mother cut in furiously. 'I almost hit Charles when he told me of his plan earlier. I probably would have done if I hadn't known the satisfaction it would have given him!' Beth could imagine her mother's eyes flashing hi anger.

'As it is, I told him exactly what I thought of the idea.'

'And?' Beth prompted drily.

'He told me that it wasn't an "idea" at all, that it will very soon be fact!'

Of course it would. Her father would hardly have told her mother of his plans if he had thought for a moment she could in any way thwart them.

'Then that seems to be that, doesn't it?' Beth dismissed without rancour. In fact, she was relieved about the whole thing. She wanted as little to do with her father as he obviously wanted to do with her.

'It most certainly is not,' her mother snapped.

'You don't think I'm just meekly going to accept

that, do you? Because I can assure you I'm not!

I think you should come home—- '

'Mummy—- '

'On the first plane available and… What?' her mother barked impatiently as she realised Beth was trying to say something.

She drew in a deep breath, knowing her mother wasn't going to like what she was about to say. 'Mummy, I'm not in the least concerned about being Da—about being his heir.' She still found it difficult to think of him as her father, stumbling over calling him that, finally deciding not to call him anything. 'I'm glad it's all finally over.' And she really felt as if now it could be, knew there would no longer be any tie to her father. And she was so glad.

'It isn't,' her mother bit out tautly. 'I haven't stayed married to your father all these years to have him calmly disinherit you now.'

'But I don't want his money, Mummy——'

'Neither do I,' her mother said with distaste. 'But I don't intend Martin to have it either!'

Martin… Beth had tried so hard not to think of him at all the last few days; it had been vital to her even beginning to enjoy this holiday.

'I think he's probably earned it,' she told her mother bitterly.

'Oh, darling——'

'Forget it. Mummy.' She still felt too raw to talk about Martin. 'I'm really sorry if the news upset you, but please don't be outraged on my behalf; I'm glad to have it all behind me.' And now, finally it just might be. She had no reason now to see her father or Martin ever again.

Certainly not that of duty!

'I actually feel quite light-hearted,' she assured her mother. And she did, feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had tried so hard to be the daughter her father wanted, had ultimately failed miserably, and now neither of them owed the other anything. She was finally completely free of him.

'And I feel murderous,' her mother informed her needlessly; it was perfectly obvious how she felt about this new development!

'If the two of them think they can get away with this, they're mistaken!'

Beth wished her mother didn't feel quite so volatile about the subject; she wasn't too likely to just drop the subject if that was the case. Maybe that was understandable in the circumstances, but Beth knew she would rather just forget the whole thing.

'Da—Charles,' she amended tightly, 'can leave his money where he wants.'

'Not to Martin,' her mother ground out. 'Never to him!'

Beth felt numb where both men were concerned. 'Can we talk about this when I get back, Mummy?'

'It will be too late then!'

'I doubt that Charles intends dying in the next week or so,' she derided. Yes, she decided, it felt much easier, much simpler, to call him Charles. She had lived without a father most of her life, had known Charles as that only briefly. But he was no real father to her, had never wanted to be, and never would be again.

'That isn't the point.' Katherine was impatient with her again. 'I will not allow him to do this to you—he's already done enough.'

More than enough, that was why she wanted no further part of him. 'It's up to you what you do, Mummy,' she told her flatly. 'I can understand how you feel, but I don't want to be involved in it. This particular quarrel is between you and Charles.'

'All right, darling,' her mother sighed. 'I realise why you feel the way you do. But your father has had this coming to him for some time.'

Beth instantly felt misgivings; her mother in full flow was something to behold. 'Had what coming to him?' she prompted warily.

'I'm not sure yet,' her mother said slowly. 'But I'm not just going to leave it.'

Beth felt her uneasiness deepen. 'Please leave it, Mummy.'

'Don't give it another thought, Beth.' Her mother sounded preoccupied. 'Enjoy the rest of your holiday, and I'll see you in about ten days' time.'

'Mummy—'

'I shouldn't have bothered you with this at all,' jshe dismissed brightly—too brightly for Beth's peace of mind. 'I persuaded you to go on this holiday in the hope you would forget about Charles and Martin for a couple of weeks, and now I've gone and brought it all up again,' she realised self-disgustedly. 'I was just so angry— I'm calmer now,' she continued hi that over-bright voice. 'We'll talk when you get back.'

'Mummy——' Too late, her mother had already rung off.

Beth slowly replaced her receiver. She could call her mother straight back, but what good would that really do? She knew her mother well enough to be aware that would achieve absolutely nothing; her mother would simply tell her nothing more on the subject.

But Beth still felt that sense of uneasiness, as if there was more to come. She could go home, of course, get the next plane back to England, as her mother had first suggested she do. But she really had no desire to go back to England just yet, had actually started to enjoy this holiday.

How much Marcus Craven was starting to mean in all that she didn't want to hazard a guess.

The kiss he had given her earlier, just before they parted, came back in full force. It shouldn't have come as any surprise to her, when he had insisted on seeing her back to her room, that he had claimed the time-honoured salute to the end of their evening. And yet somehow it had caught her off balance, her reaction instinctive rather than controlled. And, although she had responded only briefly, she
had
returned the caress.

What would have happened if her mother hadn't telephoned at that moment?

Nothing, she told herself firmly. She had learnt the hard way that she shouldn't trust her instincts, that they let her down when she most needed them.

But her first instinct had been to mistrust Marcus Craven; should she ignore that? She didn't know any more.

She had trusted her instincts three years ago, had ignored her mother's warnings about Charles, had felt almost shy about meeting him again after all those years.

She had spent most of her life living quietly on the Isle of Man with her mother, had received terse birthday and Christmas cards along with a suitable present for her age-group on each occasion every year from her father. She had always written a polite thank-you note in return, and that had been their only contact for all those years. There had been no visits, no telephone calls.

But shortly after she had turned twenty-one it had been different. Her father had telephoned her, asking her to visit him in London. Beth had been so taken aback she hadn't known what to say. Her mother had known exactly what
she
had wanted to say, and yet she had accepted it when Beth's curiosity got the better of her and she arranged to meet her father in London the following week.

She and her mother had lived very quietly on the island, commuting from their home in the south of the island to the boutique they ran together in the capital, Douglas. They had made occasional buying trips to London, but this visit to her father in London was to be nothing like that. Her mother had held her tongue when Beth told her of the invitation, although knowing Charles as she did she must have been sorely tempted to discourage her from going anywhere near him. But as a mother she had realised that Beth had to learn these things for herself, that she couldn't protect her any longer.

Her father had been charm itself. Tall, and, at fifty, still very attractive, his hair iron-grey, his eyes the same inflexible colour of steel. Beth had been bowled over by him from the first.

That first weekend had been spent in a whirlpool of dinner parties and social occasions, and at all of them her father had proudly introduced her to his friends as his daughter.

Always hovering on the edge of their group at these social occasions had been Martin Bradshaw, her father's assistant, smoothly stepping in at her side if her father should be called away anywhere. He was tall and blond, with deep blue eyes set in one of the most handsome faces Beth had ever seen.

It had only been later that Beth had realised that was exactly what Martin was; her father's 'Blue-eyed Boy'!

That weekend had been the first of several visits to her father in London, and on each visit she had met Martin agaitf too, quickly coming to look forward to those visits for that very reason.

Her mother had gently tried to warn her to be cautious where both men were concerned, but it had been too late for that; she was completely charmed by her father and the attention he lavished on her, and more than halfway in love with Martin.

When the invitations to London had become more and more frequent, her father asking that she come and be his partner or hostess at one function or another, she had been so thrilled that she had ignored her mother's warnings, quickly arriving at a stage where she had just wanted to see and be with Martin; and as he was her father's valued assistant she had seen him a lot during those weekends.

But it hadn't been enough; she had wanted more than just the friendship he seemed to offer.

And despite all her mother's concern it had ultimately been she who had made it easy for Beth to move to London!

The boutique they ran on the island had done well—in fact more than well—and now that Beth was no longer a child and dependent upon her Katherine had decided that the time had come to expand into the rest of the world, opening first one boutique in New York, and then one in London too. Katherine had gone herself to take charge in New York, leaving Beth to maintain things on the island. But when they had opened in London several months later it had been easier to leave Beth's maintain things on the island. But when they had opened in London several months later it had been easier to leave Beth's assistant in control on the island and take over in London herself.

It had been the move her father and Martin had been waiting for!

She had only been in London several weeks when Martin began to call at the boutique on one pretext or another. She had been deeply flattered, overjoyed when he had finally invited her out to dinner.

Beth still shuddered when she remembered how worried she had been at the time that her father wouldn't approve of the relationship!

That first invitation had led to others, and within weeks she had known she was head over heels in love with Martin.

And her father had known, and approved, of what was going on.

By the time Beth's mother had returned from New York it was to celebrate Beth's and Martin's engagement.

Beth had been so excited that evening, her father throwing a huge party for all his friends and associates. Her mother had seen that excitement and done her best to feel happy for her, to appear approving to all the people who eyed her so curiously; they had all been aware that Charles had a wife somewhere, but this was the first time most of these people had actually seen her.

Beth had been so proud of her mother that evening, of her beauty, the elegant way she dressed, the dark green gown she wore a perfect foil for her blonde hair and green eyes, but most of all Beth had been proud of the way her mother held her head up high and withstood all that curiosity that was directed at her.

Her mother had met Martin for the first time that evening, and Beth had sensed her reservations about him. But she had dismissed the feelings, knowing that her mother was always cautious until she knew someone well. She hadn't doubted for a moment that her mother would come to love Martin once she got to know him.

The wedding had been weeks later, a grand affair, totally suitable for the daughter of Charles Palmer. Beth had walked down the aisle with stars in her eyes, had thought Martin the most handsome man in the world as he waited for her, like a golden Adonis.