Highland Fling (25 page)

‘Oh. I see. I’m sorry Max. I ... I just thought that perhaps we could go out for dinner tonight that’s all. You know, last night in town and all that. Not a problem though. I should have realised you’d be busy. I’ll go. Don’t worry. I’ll see you later.’ Lizzie smiled then turned to go.

‘Wait.’ Max was beside her in a split second. ‘Dinner would be great. If you don’t mind waiting in my office for an hour we’ll do that. I really can’t get out of the meeting. I must get back to it actually, so if you want, I’ll take you up to my office now and leave you in my secretary’s capable hands ... What? You look annoyed. I’m sorry Lizzie but –’

‘No. Of course you must get back and I’m not annoyed. I ... I’d just rather not wait in your office that’s all. I haven’t been in there since ... well since your previous secretary worked for you. I’d just rather not be there. Silly I know, but there it is. Why don’t I wait in the pub? I’ve got a book with me so I can continue reading that and have a glass of wine – which I must admit, I would kill for right now.’

Max’s brows drew together but he didn’t press the issue. ‘That sounds like a plan; if you’re sure you’ll be okay in the pub for an hour on your own. I’ll get someone to help you there.’

‘Max! I can get to the pub on my own thanks. It’s only round the corner, if I remember correctly. The Black Swan isn’t it? And I’m sure I can handle an hour alone in a pub without some major disaster befalling me.’

The Black Swan, or The Mucky Duck, as the regulars called it, was actually an ancient Inn dating back to the fourteenth century that had been added to and extended over the years. On the ground floor was a large bar area and a cosy a la carte restaurant, together with a further brasserie-style restaurant. Upstairs were six en suite bedrooms; now mainly occupied by tourists.

Fortunately for both Lizzie and Max, Max had never told her about the afternoons he, and his former secretary, Kim had spent in one or other of the bedrooms there, on the pretence of being out of the office at a meeting.

Even when cheating on his wife and in a way, his employer, Max didn’t like to be too far from his office – and the owners and staff of The Mucky Duck, where nothing if not discreet. At more than one time during its very long history it had also been affectionately known as Ye Olde Knocking Shoppe or something very similar; a fact that the current owners, seemed rather proud of.

Lizzie made her way to the bar and ordered a large glass of Chablis then she headed towards one of the booths which were half hidden towards the back of the pub – another reminder of its former past. One of the staff carried her glass over for her and put her crutches against the wall behind the high-backed padded seat, so they weren’t sticking out of the booth for someone to trip over. Lizzie thanked him and settled down with her book to wait for Max.

She didn’t know how long she’d been reading but she’d finished one glass of wine and a member of the staff had brought her a second – so somewhere in the region of thirty or forty minutes, when she heard a voice she recognised – and it wasn’t Max’s.

She scooted forward on the seat, half hoping, half dreading and saw three men and one woman standing at the end of the bar, farthest from her, all dressed in business suits. Two of the men were facing in her direction but she didn’t recognise either their faces or their voices. The woman was facing the bar, so Lizzie could see her profile. She was young; probably little more than eighteen or nineteen and stunning with short, naturally curly, black hair and a perfect figure which even a plain dark suit couldn’t hide. Lizzie didn’t recognise her either.

The third man she would recognise anywhere even though he had his back to her. She recognised his height and his build and the way his clothes seemed to fit so perfectly they could have been made especially for him – and probably were; recognised the colour of his hair and the way he threw his head back when he laughed; recognised that laugh; recognised those hands, one of which was holding a glass of champagne and offering it to the stunning young woman, the other of which was on the woman’s waist, gently coaxing her forward towards the glass of champagne – and towards him.

A river of fire swept through Lizzie’s veins, followed swiftly by a glacial flow which seemed to freeze both her heart and her reason. So Jack Drake was in the pub with a woman, a stunning young woman and although Lizzie had only seen Kim Mentor for a split second that day she’d found her in bed with Max, she knew for an absolute certainty, this woman wasn’t her.

Jack turned his body slightly and the woman raised one slim hand with long, red painted fingernails and placed it against Jack’s chest in a feeble attempt to push him away. He laughed and drew her closer, planting a kiss on the top of her head then pulling her to his side and wrapping his arm protectively around her. She leant in to him, took the glass he proffered, raised herself on tip toe and planted a kiss on his left cheek. The group all cheered and laughed and the woman remained encircled in Jack’s left arm until two other men Lizzie also recognised, joined the happy group.

Phil slapped Jack on the back and kissed the stunning woman on her cheek. Pete also leant over and gave her a quick peck. Jack released her and turned to the bar. Another bottle of champagne appeared and Jack handed glasses to Phil and Pete then filled them with champagne.

Lizzie was mesmerised. As much as her body seemed to be tearing itself inside out, she couldn’t look away. Jack seemed so happy, so carefree and the look of pure unadulterated love on his face when his eyes rested on the young woman was clear for all to see. And yet, this woman wasn’t his fiancée. Neither was she his sister – the only other reason a man would look at a woman with such a protective and loving eye; Jack was an only child, he’d told Lizzie that during their night together.

It seemed Jack Drake was no different from Max after all. Both of them wanted to have their cake and eat it. But Jack was actually far worse than Max. He was going to be married soon and more importantly, he was going to be a father. What’s more, Jack didn’t try to keep his bit on the side a secret; his friends all knew her and it seems, they liked her. A dreadful thought occurred to Lizzie. How long had he been seeing this girl? Before he went to Scotland? Before he and Lizzie ...?

A mixture of rage and jealously tore through her and she wished she could march over to him and slap his face then storm out in disgust, but she couldn’t even walk without her crutches and storming anywhere was a step far, far away.

Instead, she sat in the booth watching him and seethed; one minute wishing she could be in the young woman’s shoes, the next, wishing she could tell him exactly what she thought of his philandering, but all the time, telling herself what a fool she had been – what a fool she still was – for falling for the charms of Jack bloody Drake.

Even when he moved away from the bar and headed in her direction five minutes later, she couldn’t drag her eyes away.

Jack was in a good mood. It had taken him a while but he felt he had finally come to terms with the fact that, no matter how much he might wish it otherwise, Lizzie was lost to him for good. There really wasn’t any point going over and over in his head what he could have said or done differently. Nothing would change the fact that she was reconciled with her husband. And nothing would change the fact that she had used him.

When it came down to it – other than as a blow to his ego – did it really matter whether she had meant any of the things she’d said to him during their incredible night together, even if only for a moment, or whether she was just playing him the entire time? Ultimately, all she’d wanted was to get some sort of twisted revenge on both her husband and Kim.

Oddly enough though, it did matter, but for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. Whether she had felt anything for him or not, she had gone running straight back into her husband’s arms – and from what little he’d seen on that Saturday night – they both seemed very happy with the situation.

Phil was right; he had to put it all behind him and move on with his life. At least everything was sorted out with Kim now, so one good thing had come out of that weekend. He should be happy – things could have turned out a whole lot worse. A broken heart could mend. All it needed was good friends, a few drinks and ...

‘Lizzie!’

Jack stopped so abruptly that the man walking behind him crashed into his back, spilling his beer down the back of Jack’s charcoal grey suit.

‘Shit! Sorry mate,’ the man said.

Jack didn’t hear him, nor did he feel the beer which had splattered his suit jacket, and after giving Jack a few odd looks, the man shrugged and carried on towards his friends.

Neither Lizzie or Jack spoke for what seemed like an eternity but Lizzie’s mouth fell open, a hot red flush swept across her face and she eventually managed to drag her eyes away from his and cast them down at the table in the booth.

She fiddled nervously with the stem of her wine glass and tried to stop her eyes from darting a sideways glance at him.

Jack moved somewhat cautiously towards her, almost as though she were a rare bird and might fly away at any moment.

‘Lizzie?’ His tone was both questioning and disbelieving at the same time.

Lizzie tried to control her breathing; she felt she was gasping for air. After several seconds she managed a modicum of composure and slowly turned her head to face him, her blue eyes cold, hiding the anger and resentment threatening to explode from her at any moment.

‘Hello Jack,’ she said taking a deep breath.

‘Wh ... what are you doing here?’ he stammered.

Lizzie pursed her lips. She felt like saying, “Caught you in the act didn’t I?” Instead she said, ‘I’m having a glass of wine and reading my book. Do you mind?’

Jack seemed confused. ‘Do I m...? Um ... no.  Of course not. Why would I mind? It ... it’s just a surprise, that’s all. Um ... it’s lovely to see you, Lizzie.’ A smile began to form on his lips.

Her eyes travelled the length of his body and her lips curved into a tiny sneer. ‘Really Jack? Somehow I doubt that.’

His brows shot together and his penetrating sapphire eyes seemed to drill into her, weakening the barrier she was trying so hard to construct.’

‘I ...’ His voice trailed off as his eyes seemed to search her face.

Lizzie felt herself wilting in the heat of his gaze. She must hold her ground; those hypnotic eyes could so easily entice her.

‘Well, we did part on rather, shall we say, less than amicable terms.’ She raised her glass to her lips in an attempt to appear uninterested but her hand shook and she found it difficult to swallow so she quickly put it down again.

Jack watched her. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I’d almost forgotten that.’

Lizzie misread his meaning and instantly felt her hackles rise. ‘Naturally! With so many women in and out of bed with you it must be difficult to keep track. Don’t trouble yourself though Jack, it was hardly worth remembering. I’d almost forgotten it myself until I saw you again just now.’

‘What the ...?’

His eyes flashed and she saw the colour drain from his face, then rise again, this time to an almost blood red fury. His lips formed a tight, hard line and she noticed his fists clench. For one dreadful moment she thought he might lash out and strike her, but deep down, she somehow knew he wouldn’t.

She saw him take a deep breath and then his mouth curved into a grin; not the devilish grin she had come to know so well and love but a cruel, bitter grin that made the tiny lines around those exceptionally blue eyes, stand out.

‘Well,’ he said after a while, his voice now almost mellow ‘at least we remember each other’s name, that’s something I suppose.’

Lizzie’s mobile rang from inside her handbag but she made no move to answer it.

He glanced at her bag. ‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’

‘It’s probably Max,’ she’d said, before she could stop herself.

Jack’s eyes glinted then he smirked. ‘Well. Don’t let me stop you,’ he said, taking a step away from her towards the rear of the pub – and the gents’ toilets. ‘It was good to see you again Lizzie – for reasons you can’t even begin to imagine.’ And with that he was gone.

Ludicrously, she wanted to run after him. To ask him what he had meant by that. To ask him anything in fact, just to spend a few more minutes with him but of course, she could hardly even walk let alone run.

He’d have to come back though, she realised. He’d clearly headed for the gents, so he’d reappear sooner or later. All she had to do was wait. So she answered her phone – it was Max to say he’d be another fifteen minutes – and then she did just that.

Jack’s mood had gone from good to bad in about ten seconds flat. Why could seeing Lizzie make him feel so unbelievably happy one minute and then angry enough to kill, the next? How could she do that to him? Until he’d met her he’d always been so easy going. Nothing much had really bothered him. Even finding out his fiancée and his best friend had slept together behind his back hadn’t made him mad. Mind you, he might have felt differently about that if he hadn’t met Lizzie and already decided he didn’t want to marry Kim, though somehow, he knew he wouldn’t have. 

And how come he, who was never usually lost for words, could hardly manage to string more than one sentence together when he was talking to her? It was crazy. He was crazy – and that was the problem. No matter what he told himself or what he did to try to change it - there was one thing he had to accept – he was crazy about a married woman.

He couldn’t face her again. He wouldn’t describe himself as a coward but subjecting himself for a second time to her contemptuous sneer and dismissive comments, wasn’t his idea of bravery – more like suicide in fact; by a firing squad of looks and words. Then there was her husband. He’d no doubt be joining her and the thought of spending even ten minutes watching them all cosy together was even worse.

There was a side door between the gents and the main bar area. He could leave through that. He would call his friends and make some excuse, then meet them all later. Emma wouldn’t mind – and if she did, he would find a way to make it up to her.