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She dropped her lashes. The dark, accusatory glitter of his eyes hurt so much.
‘Had you so little faith in me?’ Ben demanded heavily. ‘I’ve already explained why I had to head to London at a moment’s notice, how I couldn’t wait to get back to hear your side of the engagement story. Couldn’t you have done the same? Waited to hear what I had to say? Why take your father’s word as gospel, write me off?’
Put like that, he had every reason to look so quietly, forbiddingly angry, she acknowledged miserably.
And if the alleged exchange of money for a promise had been the only thing she’d had to worry about at that time then everything would have been different. She would have waited at Langley Hayes to see if he did come back and would have asked him if what her father had said was true.
But it hadn’t been the only thing, had it?
‘There was more to it than that. I know what you did to Maggie Pope and your baby daughter.’ She could hardly get the words out, the memory of the shattering blow she’d endured still had the power to hurt and appall her.
She drew in a deep, ragged breath and said heavily, ‘When my father told me I didn’t want to believe it. But Maggie confirmed it. You got her pregnant but refused to take any responsibility. You washed your hands of both of them; you didn’t want to know. And turned your attention to your next willing victim. Me.’
She watched the colour drain from his face and flinched. The truth hurt, didn’t it just. Strangely, she ached to touch him, to make her peace with him. Love, she supposed, was responsible for this almost primal urge to offer comfort. When it came to the crunch love forgave everything, she acknowledged with a tremor of shock.
Instinctively, she reached out a hand but he shook his head abruptly and walked to the door, his voice tight as he bit out, ‘I have never touched Maggie Pope, much less fathered a child on her. You have to make a choice whether or not to believe me.’ He swung round, his black eyes impaling her. ‘In the end, it all comes down to trust, doesn’t it?’
The brisk walk back through the woods was accomplished in a silence so intense it set Caroline’s nerve ends jangling and made her mouth run dry.
She wanted to tell him she couldn’t condone what he’d done but she did understand. He’d been young, highly sexed and his father had set him a terrible example. And maybe, just maybe, he’d been living up to his own reputation as the village Lothario.
She wanted to beg him not to lie about it, especially not to her, not after the passion they’d shared. She wanted to suggest he made amends by getting to know his daughter, helping to provide for her.
Perhaps, that way, they could finally put the past behind them and go on…
The pace he’d set had made her breathless and her voice snagged as she began, ‘Ben—listen—please don’t lie to me—’
But he cut her short with one slashing movement of his hand. Scornful eyes stabbed into hers. ‘I have never lied to you. I suggest you start listening to your heart instead of your cold, judgmental brain. And while you’re doing that, you can finish up your work here.’ He pulled his lips back against his teeth in a humourless smile. ‘You might not have the time, or the inclination, when I’m through thrashing things out with you.’
Stung by his dictatorial, contemptuous tone, hurt by his refusal to trust her enough to admit he’d lied, she glared at him with tear-glittered eyes.
Ben swung round and stalked away, his stride long and rangy as he crossed the gravelled forecourt of Langley Hayes, his aggrieved pride showing in the tense set of his shoulders.
‘Wait!’ she cried, finding her voice, her tone every bit as dictatorial as his had been. But to her teeth-grinding chagrin he ignored her, striding to his car, gunning the powerful engine, wide tyres scattering gravel as he drove away.
Caroline gritted her teeth and stumped back into the house. The man was impossible. Was his ego so huge he couldn’t face humbling himself, admitting he’d done wrong? Did he have to lie about it?
Did he take her for a total fool?
Because twelve years ago Maggie Pope couldn’t have been lying. The girl, only a few months older than Caroline herself, would have had no possible reason to tell lies about the identity of her tiny baby’s father.
The perfect day she’d planned—they had both planned—had turned into a nightmare and there would be no going back, no reclamation of the stolen hours that had seemed so enticing earlier on.
Which was possibly just as well, she consoled herself crossly, hoping that if she whipped up enough anger then the heat of it would counteract the icy pain in her heart. It might have been twenty-four hours of paradise, but it would have been a paradise for blind fools.
The phone was ringing as she headed across the hall. Frowning, she decided to ignore it then rapidly changed her mind. It might be one of the contractors Ben had hired to reinvent the estate, and she wasn’t going to emulate him and throw a tantrum, regardless of normal everyday duties, nor storm off in a huff!
She took the call in the room that had been her father’s study and such was her jagged emotional state it was a full sixty seconds before she registered the identity of the caller.
‘Michael,’ she responded shortly.
‘The one and only! Listen, Caroline, I’m in the area—a big-house sale just outside Shrewsbury. If you’re finished up your end, and as hacked off as you so
und, you could come back to London with me. Yes?’
She had no further excuse for staying here but the mere thought of leaving Ben, putting their bittersweet reunion behind her, was like the pain of a thousand knives twisting in her heart.
But it had to be done.
