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'Hmm. I've often thought I'd like to give writing a try. Trouble is, I never seem to have the time.'
'Yes, that's often a problem,' Jared agreed smoothly.
Petra couldn't stand this a moment longer: Simon, happily unaware of those currents that she—and Jared as well, she was sure—could feel swirling around them, that treacherous undertow pulling at all three of them and threatening to drag them down. She looked pointedly up at the pine clock on the wall. 'Darling, we really ought to be going. Simon's taking me out to lunch,' she added more coldly to Jared's left shoulder. She paused for him to get the message and leave, but he only said, 'How nice for you,' and went on propping up the unit, so finally she went on, through her teeth,
'Well, I'll go and get ready, then. I shan't be long.' And, with a smile which was entirely and only for Simon, she quitted the room.
She closed her bedroom door, then realised that she was trembling in every limb. She stood in the middle of the carpet, struggling for
composure, her lingers twining and untwining endlessly. How could she stand it—three months' living next door to him, when he'd obviously set himself up to be her tormentor, pure and simple? No, not pure—not where Jared was concerned. And certainly not simple.
She took a lot of care choosing what she was going to wear. There were not that many good clothes in her wardrobe—
— she had been working too hard the last couple of years for a wild social life
— but, even so, she discarded most of them before pulling out the outfit on the rail at the end. It was a black and white tweed Chanel-style suit—chain-store variety, though that certainly didn't show
— edged with black velvet braiding and with gilt buttons. She'd bought it last autumn for a reception at Simon's school, when she'd desperately wanted to look good to impress his rather starchy colleagues—and at the stunned looks in some of their eyes she'd thought she'd probably succeeded. Throwing the suit, and the blouse that went with it—in palest sea-green silk-look polyester—down on to the bed, she flew through to the bathroom, shedding garments as she went, and leapt into the shower . . .
There was a full-length mirror in her wardrobe door. She turned, slowly surveying herself, and a little smile curved her lips. The blouse, together with a touch of tawny colour on her cheekbones, some mascara and a slick of peach lip-gloss on her full mouth, enhanced the brilliance of her eyes and the pale fire of her hair, while the short-cropped jacket set off her slender waist, and the knee-length skirt her long, slender legs.
She gave a little nod of satisfaction. Tights were all very well for comfort — she wore them day in, day out—but for sheer glamour it just had to be worth the wrestling match with a suspender belt to wear slinky black twelve-denier stockings like these. Thrusting her feet into high-heeled black pumps and smoothing down her skirt, she took a last slow look at herself. Good. Sophisticated and cool that was the impression she wanted to create today. That would show him, once and for all —
With a guilty little start she caught herself up. All of this ... it was for Simon, of course it was—and no one else. After all, it wasn't every day a girl celebrated her engagement, was it?
Snatching up her bag, and the fine gold chain with a teardrop pearl on it, she ran lightly downstairs. Outside the kitchen door, though, she paused, her fingers on the handle. There was silence the other side. Good—that must mean Jared had finally taken himself off. She went in, then stood, frozen in the doorway, as she saw Simon, still in his car coat, leaning against the sink, staring out towards the village, which lay in a cleft of the valley below. Jared was sitting on one of the chairs, rocking it back and forth on two legs, apparently completely at his ease, and studying a knot in the pine table.
As both men swung round towards her she met Jared's gaze first, saw that barely perceptible something in his eyes, and then they locked with hers until she felt as though she was falling endlessly through water, unable to breathe.
'You look very nice, Pet.' Simon's voice, a shade constrained, broke the spell.
'Thank you, kind sir.' She gave him a grateful smile, and went across to him, holding out the gold chain. 'Would you do this up for me, please? The clip's so tiny that I can never manage it.'
'Wait a sec. I'll just take my driving gloves—'
'No need. I'll do it.' Another voice, velvet-smooth, cut in, and another pair of hands reached for the chain to scoop it up out of her palm, so that she was forced to submit, standing, head bent, while Jared's fingers brushed against her nape, making the tiny pale hairs prickle.
'Thanks.' But she didn't look at him, only gave Simon a dazzling smile. 'Right. I'm ready.'
'Well,' Jared said languidly, 'I'll get started on making myself at home—settling in.'
She turned and shot him a quiet scowl. Did everything he said have to be barbed—have a second meaning for her ears alone?
'Or maybe I'll take it easy,' he continued as she followed Simon through the door. I'm still a bit jet lagged—though, how bad as I was last night, am I, Petra?'
She felt his eyes on the back of her head, but would not look back. 'I really wouldn't know, Jared,' she said icily, then locked the door and took Simon's hand, 'Let's go, love, shall we?'
'Well, enjoy your lunch.' Jared lifted a long leg over the wall between the two gardens. 'See you later, Petra. Bye, Simon. It's been a real—pleasure meeting you again.'
As she buckled her seatbelt Simon switched on the Rover's ignition with a sharp little click.
'I see he's lost none of the famous Tremayne charm,' he snapped irritably. He always was an absolute bastard, that one.'
'Yes, he was, wasn't he?' she agreed absently, then, rousing herself from a far from pleasant reverie, put her hand on his arm. 'Please, darling, don't let's talk about Jared any more.' She managed a light laugh. 'I want to enjoy today.'
'It's been a marvellous day, Simon. Thank you—and thank you for this.' She gave him a rather blurred smile, then looked down at her left hand, the diamond solitaire winking on her fourth finger. 'It's beautiful.'
He moved closer to her on the sofa, taking her hand and holding it tenderly between his. 'As I told you, my sweet, nothing but the best for a beautiful Easter bride.'
