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Towelling himself dry, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror. As though it had argued with him, he muttered, ‘OK, so there’s something to be said for a man doing the pursuing, too, but not right now. Right now, Victoria is what I need.’
Even to himself he didn’t sound convincing. Scowling, he flung the towel in a corner of the room and strode stark naked through to the bedroom, flinging himself on the bed and reaching for the TV remote. He would call Victoria but not tonight. Maybe when he took the architect’s plans and ideas up to London he’d ring Tom’s daughter and suggest dinner. For now he’d get room service to send up a bottle of Scotch and a steak; he couldn’t be bothered to get dressed and go down to the restaurant. And his restlessness and irritability was nothing to do with the fact that he had behaved so appallingly to Marianne Carr and that she must hate his guts.
Flicking through the channels he settled on a twenty-four-hour news programme but almost immediately his mind went back to the matter in hand.
The last thing he would contemplate was getting involved with the daughter of his father’s old flame; the woman was poison like her mother. She just hid it better. Whatever it was that had enticed the men in Diane Carr’s day had been passed down in the genes, that much was clear.
He turned on his elbow and picked up the telephone. A few glasses of whisky and he’d reclaim his equilibrium. End of problem.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘HE SAIDwhat?’ Crystal stared at Marianne, shaking her head. ‘Look, I promise you it wasn’t like that.’
‘You know about it, then?’ Marianne was beginning to feel as confused as Alice in Wonderland. Nothing was as it seemed. They were sitting in the drawing room at Seacrest with a tray of coffee in front of them, but she had succumbed to pressure from Crystal and related all that had passed between her and Rafe before she’d even had a sip of coffee. Now she reached forward and took a hefty gulp of the scalding-hot liquid before saying, ‘Am I the only person in the world who doesn’t know about Andrew Steed and my mother?’
‘It was all so long ago, Annie. Of course I knew Andrew, having been born in the village about the same time as him, and when I first came to live with your mother she confided in me what had happened, but it wasn’t general knowledge. She felt awful about hurting Andrew but the truth of it was, once she met your father she realised what she felt for Andrew was a pale reflection of the real thing. But Diane would never have been influenced by what either beau had materially. You must believe that.’
‘I do. Of course I do.’ But it didn’t stop her feeling a little hurt that her mother had never told her about Rafe’s father. Just for a moment Marianne understood a glimmer of what Rafe must have gone through when he’d found out. It was obvious he’d loved his mother and considered his father had short-changed her in some way, although from what she knew she didn’t think that was fair. From all accounts, Andrew Steed had been completely honest with his American wife.
‘I’m sorry Andrew’s son is so hostile. I wondered why he was acting strangely, but it seems to me he needs to sort this out with his father first and foremost,’ Crystal said firmly. ‘He can’t take it out on you just because his father loved your mother.’
‘That’s what I told him.’
‘Good.’ Crystal paused. ‘He’s rather dishy though, isn’t he?’
‘I hadn’t noticed.’ Liar, liar, pants on fire. ‘Look, I’ve signed everything I can for the time being and I really think I ought to get back to London tomorrow and explain things to my boss and my landlord. Will you be all right here by yourself?’
‘Of course. I’m used to holding the fort while your parents went on holiday or popped up to see you for the weekend, after all.’
‘This is different, though,’ Marianne said soberly.
‘I’ll be fine.’ Crystal took a deep breath. ‘I can begin sorting out the rooms and so on. We’ll need to get organised if we’re going to have builders tramping everywhere.’
‘I’ll come down again at the weekends but I feel duty bound to work out my notice.’
‘Of course and you must.’
It was much later that night when sleep was far from her and she had tossed and turned and her bed was a tangle of sheets and duvet, that Marianne admitted she had been battling to keep Rafe out of her thoughts all day. It was humiliating—deeply so, in view of all he had said—but for some reason he had forced himself into her psyche and she couldn’t get rid of him.
When the alarm clock on her bedside cabinet showed two o’clock Marianne gave up all thought of sleep and decided to go for a walk in the garden. She was hot and sticky and it would be cooler out there; it always was, with the sea breeze making itself felt even on the hottest summer night. Pulling her robe over her thin silk pyjamas, she thrust her feet into old flip-flops and left the bedroom, treading carefully so as not to wake Crystal, who was a light sleeper at the best of times.
Once outside, the cool night air was wonderfully fresh after the humid stickiness of the house. She breathed in its sweetness, scented with the rich perfume of roses and stock. Walking across the smooth green lawn which bordered the house, she wandered into the more dense blackness beyond, right down to the old gnarled seat which nestled in one corner of the large grounds close to the drystone wall. The trees which surrounded the gardens made the shadows pitch-dark but she felt no fear. This was her home, her sanctuary and she could never be frightened within its bounds.
Once seated, she felt for the little initials carved in the back of the seat. Her father had made the bench for her mother just after they were married and put their entwined initials in a love knot. It was too dark to see them but the feel of the little letters under her fingertips was comforting.
And then the tears came. In the house she had always tried to cry quietly, not wanting to upset Crystal, but tonight in the garden all restraint disappeared and she howled out her grief and pain and loss in a way she hadn’t before. She was going to miss them so much and they had gone much too soon. It wasn’t fair; none of this was fair.
She was in full flow when a sudden scrambling and disturbance on the other side of the seven-foot wall brought her heart into her mouth. She didn’t have time to move before a voice said, ‘Marianne, is that you? Don’t be frightened. It’s me, Rafe Steed.’
Rafe? Shuddering sobs were still shaking her frame as she desperately tried to recall what she had been moaning out loud. ‘Mum’ and ‘Dad’ had featured, she knew that, and she had been railing against fate.
The next moment a dark figure was on top of the wall. ‘Can I come down?’
She couldn’t believe this was happening. Her voice choked, she said, ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk on the beach. Then I decided to come back via the cliff path and I heard…’ He paused. ‘I thought about pretending I wasn’t here but I c
ouldn’t. I’ll go if you want.’
