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‘How cosy!’
Fortunately the arrival of iced melon wedges provided a welcome interruption, and Tamara concentrated on the delicious fruit while Nigel skilfully drew Zach out about his novel.
As a bystander Tamara was amused to see how well Zach parried Nigel’s more searching questions, but underneath her amusement lay a pain that shadowed her eyes and brought a hard tight lump of tears to her throat.
Their main course consisted of spare ribs and a delicious assortment of garden-fresh vegetables.
‘I’m afraid it’s only cheese and biscuits for dessert,’ Zach apologised smoothly when Mrs Wilkes had removed their plates. ‘When Nigel told me he wanted to bring his assistant for some reason I expected a man.’
‘No way,’ Nigel chuckled. ‘For one thing no man could possibly be as decorative, but as it happens, Tamara is the best secretary I’ve ever had. How long do you think it will take to get the first chapters done?’ he asked Zach. ‘I’d like to try and bring the book out in time for next year’s Christmas trade, but that will mean a bit of a rush. I’m off to Milan next week—I’ve got a book lined up there. Someone who claims to be in the know about the Italian terrorists—says they’ve got some pretty high-up Government connections. Probably a load of waffle, but one can’t afford not to investigate.’
‘How long do you expect to be away?’ Zach enquired politely.
‘Er … two or three weeks, it just depends. Now, about your novel, how long do you think before you can let me have those early chapters?’
It was plain to Tamara that Nigel was anxious to pin Zach down to a definite contract, and having read what he had done Tamara could understand why.
‘I could probably let you have the first three by the time you get back,’ Zach replied smoothly, ‘provided you’re willing to loan me the services of your assistant.’
There was a sharp clatter as Tamara’s knife fell from nerveless fingers, and then Nigel was saying quickly,
‘Of course I’ll find you a secretary, Zach, there’s plenty of girls in the office who’d be delighted to …’
And just as quickly and far more determinedly Zach was interrupting blandly, ‘That’s very kind of you, Nigel, but I prefer to work with someone I know if possible, and Tamara can’t possibly come with any better recommendation than your own. As you said yourself, you’ll be away, and of course I don’t expect to use her … skill for free.’
Had Nigel noticed the insulting way in which Zach had lingered over those last few words? Tamara wondered, not able to look at either of them.
She knew Nigel must have guessed that Zach was the father of her baby and he had tried to circumvent Zach’s suggestion tactfully.
‘It’s up to you,’ Zach added with a nicely judged touch of boredom. ‘If you want the chapters …’
‘Of course, of course,’ Nigel agreed quickly. ‘Would you mind, Tamara?’
‘I … I don’t see how I could do it,’ she said huskily, ‘I couldn’t possibly commute.’ Too late she realised that Zach would probably expect her to stay with Malcolm’s parents too, but to her dismay he shrugged and said coolly,
‘Of course not, but that’s no problem. There’s half a dozen bedrooms lying empty here, and in point of fact it would probably be more convenient to have you on the premises. I take it that if it’s necessary you won’t mind working some evenings? I’ll make it worth your while, of course.’
With what? Tamara longed to scream at him, hating the insulting way he looked and spoke, but for Nigel’s sake she suppressed the words and merely replied tonelessly, ‘If it means the work can be completed more quickly that will be all the payment I’ll need.’
She had the satisfaction of seeing Zach’s skin darken slightly under his tan, but when he turned aside to say something to Nigel, a wave of nausea suddenly swept her, forcing her to her feet, her lips as pale as her skin as she swayed sickly.
‘Tamara!’ Nigel was at her side instantly. Tamara forced a small smile.
‘I’m fine,’ she lied. ‘If I could just go outside for a moment—some fresh air.’
‘Of course.’ Imperturbably Zach led the way to the french windows, opening them and allowing her to precede him outside. Tamara had grown used to feeling queasy first thing in the morning, but this was the first time she had felt so desperately ill during the day. She longed to creep away somewhere and be on her own. To her relief Nigel, sensitive to her distress, drew Zach’s attention to something inside the dining room, and Tamara walked the length of the balustraded terrace, taking deep calming breaths of the pure fresh air. She was just about to venture across the smooth expanse of the lawn when her earlier nausea returned, leaving her retching helplessly, her face pressed to the cool brickwork, while her body shuddered agonisingly.
‘So … An old trick but an effective one. I doubt the Colonel will wish his grandson to be born out of wedlock. But why?’
Zachary was leaning against the balustrade, surveying her wan face with an intensity of anger that almost frightened her.
‘Why what?’ she stammered.
‘Why get yourself pregnant?’ Zach demanded brusquely. ‘And don’t tell me you’re not. Mrs Wilkes would be mortified if she thought that was the effect her cooking had on my guests, but it wasn’t the cooking, was it, Tamara? So I’ll ask you again—why? Frightened you might lose him to Karen after all?’
‘It’s none of your damned business!’ Tamara cried, goaded beyond endurance, almost hating him for suggesting that she had actually planned to become pregnant to force Malcolm to marry her. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that her engagement was over, but if he should then guess the truth and suspect her of engineering him into marriage instead of Malcolm. No, she could not bear that!
‘No?’ There was silky menace in the word. ‘You won’t forget that while you’re here living under my roof, you’re here to work for me, not spend your time with Mellor?’
