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‘Daisy, there are many things about me you do not know…yet.’ The dark voice was wicked, but then it changed to one of firm determination as he added, ‘But now you are going to eat a hearty lunch, yes?’ It was another order, not a suggestion.
‘As in the condemned man…?’ she countered swiftly.
Slade smiled. ‘That was breakfast,’ he said smoothly.
‘This is my breakfast.’
‘Ah…’
In spite of the butterflies in her stomach Dais
y found she was remarkably hungry once she began to eat—mainly due to the fact that she had been unable to eat any of Isabella’s excellent dinner the night before—and the food was delicious. The omelettes were light and fluffy and just how omelettes ought to be, the green salad was covered in the most marvellous dressing, and the tomato and herb pasta was gorgeous. It was all gorgeous, Daisy admitted silently to herself, and especially nice eaten alfresco in the warm sunshine. They could be a newly married couple sitting here eating lunch together… She jerked her mind back from such dangerous musing and bit savagely into a warm croissant, catching Slade’s eye as she did so and forcing a bright smile. And why did he have to look so gorgeous?
It was over the cappuccino that Daisy’s unease returned a hundredfold. There was something in Slade’s voice—she couldn’t exactly describe what—that told her his mind wasn’t really on the conversation they had been having about the sightseeing trip Mario had taken her mother and sisters on. She found herself looking at him warily but she aimed to make her voice brisk as she said, ‘That was lovely, Slade, but I must be holding you up? You never did say what time your plane was.’
‘No, I never did.’ She would have risen but he reached out and put his hand over hers, and when he looked at her he allowed her to see what was in his face for the first time and it scared her to death. ‘I came to your room last night to ask you something.’
‘No, Slade.’ She couldn’t take the tenderness, the love that was turning the piercing ebony eyes into soft, warm velvet. ‘Don’t do this.’
‘I have to. There is something I need to ask you, Daisy.’
He was going to ask her to marry him? Was that it? Fear swamped her like a thick sea fog and suddenly the fortifying effects of the meal were gone. She sat like a petrified rabbit, her eyes on his and her face white. ‘What?’ It was a tiny whisper but he heard it.
‘Who is Jenny?’
The world stopped revolving and became still. ‘What?’
She wasn’t aware she had spoken but she must have done because he repeated patiently, his hand still hard on hers and his eyes tight on her face, ‘Who is Jenny? Is she the other woman? The one your husband was having an affair with when you left him?’
He didn’t know. The relief was short-lived. He would find out; he would dig and dig now he had a name because that was what he was like. ‘Who…who told you about Jenny?’ she asked numbly even as she knew it must have been her mother or sisters.
‘No one has told me anything; that’s the trouble.’ There was the ring of deep frustration in his voice but he mastered it instantly, his tone soft again as he said, ‘Last night after you had gone Rose asked your mother if you were all right, and she said—’
‘Yes?’ Her eyes were fixed on his face but behind them her mind was racing, seeking an explanation that would satisfy him—something, anything, except the truth.
‘Your mother said she wished you would talk about Jenny and then she would know you were all right,’ Slade said quietly. ‘I asked who Jenny was and it was like hitting a brick wall; they were clearly horrified I had overheard.’
She was glad she was sitting down; her legs were trembling so much they would never have held her. She stared at him silently.
‘Who is Jenny?’ he persisted. ‘And why is she still so important in your life? You don’t love Ronald any more; a blind man could have seen that when you two met.’
‘No, I don’t love Ronald,’ she agreed dully. How could her mother have been so careless? How could she? she wailed inside.
‘So, tell me, talk to me.’
‘No, I can’t.’ She tried to take her hand away but he wouldn’t let her. ‘If I can’t talk about…about her with my family why should I talk about her with you?’
‘Because I agree with your mother,’ he said evenly. ‘I feel this Jenny holds the key to why you are so locked up within yourself it’s like you’re encased in steel.’
‘I’m not.’ Oh, God, please, God, if You are up there please help me at this minute, she prayed silently. I swear I’ll never ask You for anything else in the whole of my life but get me out of this. I just want to walk out of his life with some dignity.
‘You are and you know it. There’s a layer inches thick and I’ve had enough,’ he said calmly. ‘If I have to sit here for the rest of my life I’ll do it. I want an answer, Daisy, and I shall know if you are lying.’
He meant it. She closed her eyes for a moment, sick panic engulfing her. He wasn’t going to let up on this one.
‘I know the sort of person you are and after last night you can’t tell me you don’t love me, Daisy,’ he continued quietly, ‘because that particular line won’t wash. You love me and I love you but something is there like a great damn divide, stopping us getting together, and if it’s this Jenny—’
‘Don’t talk about her like that!’ It was out before she could help herself but the agonised cry stopped him in his tracks. ‘Don’t you dare.’ And she burst into hot, desperate tears.
