âNo. I'm staying here, waiting for Evie.' Didn't he care that something must have happened? Her happy-go-lucky, impulsive little sister had set out over two hours ago now, promising to be back within thirty minutes. Despite all his faults, he had never been a heartless man. So why wasn't he concerned?
Because he doesn't believe you, a weary little voice inside her head confirmed. He thinks the three of you set this up. She couldn't imagine why Kitty had been invited to share this break, or why she hadn't arrived yet. And she couldn't bother her head with it, not while she was so on edge, worrying herself silly over Evie's whereabouts, fighting to contain the pain of seeing him again.
She wrapped her arms around her body tightly. It was the only way to hold herself together. âI'm staying. You go. Just get out of here.'
Stress made her voice tight and thin. He wasn't going to help find Evie, that was obvious. He didn't believe there was a thing to worry about, and was, as usual, too sure of himself and his opinions to be persuaded otherwise. But when he'd gone then maybe, with the trauma of actually seeing him again behind her, she could think of what to do.
He gave her a long, considering look, his jaw tight. Then shrugged the beginnings of misgivings away. They'd probably made adequate contingency plans. None of them were fools. Despite their plotting they must have allowed for the possibility of his abrupt removal from the set-up.
Without any doubt she'd have a mobile phone tucked away in her luggage, hidden amongst the filmy folds of the seductive nightwear she favoured, and as soon as he left she'd be using it to summon one or other of the girls to fetch her out of here.
Her pride wouldn't let her go with him, and he could understand that. Leaving with him would be tantamount to confessing that the star role in this farcical conspiracy was hers.
Bella watched him stride to the door, then sprang after him urgently, catching him up as he was tugging the outer door open.
âPhone the local police.' She couldn't use his name. âThe first call box or house you come across. Let them know she's missing. Promise!'
His heart missed a beat then thundered heavily on. He turned to her with warning reluctance, and for the first time he allowed himself to scan the face that had so relentlessly haunted his dreams over the past year. The lovely lines were taut with strain, the perfect skin white and transparent, terror lurking deep in those spellbinding eyes.
And for the first time very real misgivings flooded icily through him as he met his own fallibility. She'd been telling the truthâas she saw it. She wouldn't involve the police, set an area search in motion simply to save her pride. And if she had a mobile she wouldn't be asking him to do the phoning.
âTell them I'll be here. I'll wait.' Her voice was ragged.
âOK,' he said roughly. He turned, then looked back at her. âI'll contact them. And I'll be back.'
He saw her sag with relief, tears starting in her eyes, and resisted the violent urge to take her in his arms, hold her for a moment and comfort her. He walked quickly into the darkness, his throat tight, dragging his mind away from her.
Thank God it had at least stopped snowing. Even so, there was a good inch of the treacherous stuff underfoot. Swinging into the Range Rover, he reached for the key he'd left in the ignition then put both hands on the wheel, thinking hard.
The events of the last few minutes told him that Bella was desperately worried over her sister's non-appearance, that her story was true. She really believed that something dreadful must have happened. The shock of discovering that had driven Kitty's involvement out of his head, while anxiety over Evie's fate had never allowed it to enter Bella's.
In all probability they were both the innocent victims of a cruel conspiracy. He'd get to the nearest phone and contact Kitty before he involved the police. If his gut feeling was right, there would be no need.
There was a torch on the passenger seat and he used it to have a look at the time. A few minutes after six. Too early for Kitty and Harry to have gone out for the evening. Too late for her to be shopping. He should catch her at home.
He turned the key in the ignition and nothing happened.
Â
Bella knew she had to pull herself together. Somehow. She moved briskly round the lamplit room, tweaking curtains, plumping up cushions that didn't need the attention, hoping the futile activities would settle her mind. A mind that was seething with all that was going on.
The shock of seeing Jake, here of all places. His cynical accusations. His cold admission that her absence from his life was a relief. Add Evie's disappearance to that little lot and you got a brain that was on the brink of blowing.
Sucking in her breath, she flew to the dying fire and carefully placed a few small logs on the embers. If Evie came back the poor love would be coldâShe caught the thought, altered it savagely. Not ifâwhen.
The police would soon be out looking for her, and that was an enormous consolation. She was scatty enough to have run out of petrol. Nothing more disastrous than that. And Jake had promised to come back and report, to wait with her.
The thought was deeply comforting. Yet she didn't want it to be! She wanted him out of her mind. It was the only way.
She turned from the replenished fire, satisfied that the fresh logs were beginning to flame, and Jake walked back in, his face black with temper.
As before, they faced each other wordlessly, until Bella found her voice and whispered, âDid you find a phone?'
He couldn't have had time, surely? He'd only walked out a matter of minutes ago. She put a hand to her heart as if to still the suddenly violent pounding. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
He looked as if he wanted to shake her to within an inch of her life. His black eyes were ferocious, his jaw clenched, dark with the perpetual five o'clock shadow she had sometimes teased him about in former, happier, long-gone times, knowing he had to shave twice a day if he wasn't to look like a hooligan with piratical tendencies.
âHardly.' His voice was dry. Coming further into the room, he removed his coat, tossed it over the back of one chair and sprawled down in the other. The hard line of his mouth told her he was controlling his temper, but only just; her head was beginning to ache, and there was an insistent thrumming noise inside her ears.
Both hands flew up to either side of her head, as if to hold it on her shoulders, as she rasped out thinly, âWhat are you doing?'
Sprawled out in a chair while Evie was missing somewhere on the bleak, cold mountainside! Oh, how could he? Long legs in soft dark cords stretched out endlessly, only the tense, hard line of the hunky shoulders beneath the Aran sweater testifying that his pose wasn't as relaxed as he was trying to pretend it was.
âYou tell me,' he came back, talking through his teeth. âI'm in your hands. You win, for the moment.' He gave her a thin, completely humourless smile. âRemove the distributor cap, take the rotor arm and no one's going anywhere. Evie's final chore before she high-tailed it back to civilisation? Neat. But not neat enough. I'm walking out of here at first light. You can do what you damn well like!'
CHAPTER THREE
âI
'LL go with you,' Bella said in a tight, emphatic voice. She would begin the long walk right now; her need to get away from here, and him, was enormous. But she knew it would be madness. Better and far less hazardous to make the trek in daylight.
A strange calmness filled her. A kind of numbness. Everything began to slot into place, like the pieces of a hitherto exasperating jigsaw puzzle. She didn't feel any pride in the achievement. On the contrary, she felt used, betrayed. A fool.
âWe've both been set up.' Was he feeling the same way? she wondered with a stab of sympathy. But she would need to develop a far more inventive mind to imagine him feeling foolish. Or used. He was always very much in control. Of everything.
She glanced up at him, but his features told her nothing. Blank. So what was new? Hadn't he always closed her out, guarding his emotions, keeping them to himself? Except when they'd been making love, she recalled unwillingly, feeling the colour come and go on her face. âI'm sorry,' she whispered, her voice thick.
She didn't know why she was apologising. His sister was just as much to blame as hers. She heaved another log onto the fire, for something to do with her hands. She didn't know where to put herself; the sudden, swamping embarrassment at having been forced into this situation was intense.
He said nothing. Just stared at her. Bella verbalised her thoughts, putting everything in order, hoping that that would help her cope.
âThey've been friends ever since we married. But you know that, of course. They obviously hatched the idea of getting us back together.' She smiled thinly, an acknowledgement of the vain futility of that forlorn hope. âKitty was to get you here, on some pretext or other, while my devious sister drove me down and dumped me. It would have been Evie who hung around until she knew you'd arrived, then spiked your car.'
She saw one dark brow slowly rise at that, but didn't grasp the significanceânot then. She moved, heading for the kitchen. âI'll make tea. But I warn you, there won't be any milk.' She was trying to be adult about thisâthis dreadful situation. They were in it together whether they liked it or not, until the morning anyway, and there was no point in behaving like a pair of squabbling children, sulking and not speaking to each other.
âTry the fridge,' he offered drily. He'd followed her through. She wished he hadn't. It was easier to act normally if there was space between them.
Bella plugged in the kettle she'd filled earlier. It felt more like a hundred years than a couple of hours ago since she'd heard the car arrive and had confidently expected Evie to come in out of the cold, needing a hot cup of tea.
She shook her head slightly at his suggestion, even managing a small, condescending smile. There would be no fresh provisions; she already knew that. But she crossed to the fridge and opened it, simply to humour him.
No one could have crammed another item in, even with a shoehorn. Her wretched sister's doing! She'd been nothing if not thorough! She'd been out all day yesterdayâChristmas shopping, she'd said. When in reality she must have come up here, stocked the fridge, made sure everything was ready.
âI can't believe it,' she said thinly.
Jake standing beside her now, murmured, âNo?'
Bella closed her eyes. Her head spun as the warm, intimate male scent of him overpowered her, forcing her to remember how it had once been for them: the deep, endlessly intense need, the hopes, the dreams, the lovingâoh, the loving...
âAren't you going to read it?'
The laid-back taunt made her eyes flip open, erotic memories thankfully slipping away, extinguished by his obvious and habitual disbelief in her which released her to enquire breathlessly, âRead what?'
âOh, come on, honey!' He reached for the stainless steel handle and reopened the door.
Bella bit her lip. Why dredge up that old endearment? Why employ that toneâhalf-amused, half-exasperated? The tone he'd used when he'd continually brushed aside every last argument she'd ever produced whenever she'd tried to make him see things her way.
âThis is the next step in the game, I imagine.' He indicated a rolled up piece of paper tied to a leg of the fresh turkey with a festive bow of scarlet ribbon. He removed it, closed the door with his foot and handed her the paper, his eyes coldly mocking. âYour cue to straighten things out, I guess. Exonerate yourself and put me in the pictureâjust in case I've lost the wits I was born with and am still staring into space, wondering why you're here and Kitty isn't.'
She dropped the paper as if it were contaminated. She was going to scream, have hystericsâshe knew she was; she could feel the pressure building up inside her!
Turkey legs tied up with red ribbon! Cryptic notes he seemed to know all about! His attitudeâoh, his attitude! Pitying yet contemptuous...
The paper was back in her hand almost before she knew it, his steely fingers closing over her own. âRead it,' he demanded, his voice hard, intolerant of argument.
Hand on hand, fingers on fingers. The slight contact immediately became the core of her very existence. Every atom of her body, every beat of her pulse, was centred on his touch, the abrasive warmth of his skin, the underlying steel of sinew and bone.
A whole year, and nothing had changedânot for her. She only had to look at him to need him, and his touchâah, his touch...
Her breath quivered in her lungs, fighting against the sudden, biting constriction of throat muscles, and his hand moved abruptly away, leaving her cold with a creeping coldness that invaded every part of her.
âWell?' he prompted cuttingly. âDon't you want to know what it says? Or perhaps you already know? Dictated it, did you?'
Her eyes moved to his, locking with the black, glittering depths until she could no longer stand the pain. A deep shudder raked through her, and her fingers were shaking as she unfurled the note.
Despite everything, he still believed she was the prime mover, that she'd set this thing up. Well, he would, wouldn't he? When had he ever believed a word she said?
It was the final straw, she thought, her eyes blurring as Evie's distinctive scrawl danced around on the paper. Her hands flew to her face, hiding the scalding outpouring of silent, unstoppable tears, the paper fluttering to the floor again. And through the storm of her emotions she heard Jake move, heard him drawl, reading aloud, every word a bitter punishment.
âYou'll forgive us eventually, I promise! But it's all your own faults. Yes, really! You won't see each other, talk to each other, even though you're still crazy about each other. Yes, you are! So marooning you together was the only answer. We were driven to it! So work things out, for pity's sake. Happy Christmas! E.'
And then silence. A long, hateful silence while the sobs built up inside her, threatening to pull her to shreds. How could Evie have done this to her? Dumped her in this hatefully embarrassing, hurtful situation?
They'd always been so close, looked out for each other since they were childrenâand now this, this shattering betrayal. Oh, how could she?
She'd accepted that something like this must have happened, but she hadn't taken it inânot properly. Not until now.
The sheer awfulness of the situation hit herâJake plainly believing she'd masterminded the entire thing, the gut-wrenching pain of seeing him, feeling his contempt, the deep anxiety she'd gone through when her sister hadn't returned, her imagination working overtime, dreaming up worst-case scenarios!
Reaction set in, releasing a crescendo of weeping, her whole body shaking with the force of it. Then the shock of feeling his hands on her shoulders, turning her gently to face him, made it worse. So much worse.
She would die if he offered her the comfort of his arms, and she'd die if he didn't!
He didn't.
Â
He wanted to hold her, but he didn't. Hell, if he took her in his arms he'd be a lost man! Common sense, the self-discipline of a rational human being, the primary human urge towards self-protectionâall down the drain.
His hands dropped to his sides. âCalm down. You'll make yourself ill.'
His shoulders rigid, he turned to make that forgotten pot of tea. Her sobs were a little less frenzied now, he noted. The Bella he had known had never cried. She'd had, in his experience, a pragmatic approach to problems. Yet she was clearly distressed nowâdeeply distressedâand all he could do was offer her tea?
She was distressed because he'd seen through the charade, because he'd realised she had to be the instigator, he reminded himself cynically. Had she really imagined he wouldn't. The whole thing smacked of complicity.
Pouring tea, he recalled how she'd drawn his attention to the distant sound of an engine. He hadn't caught it himself, but she'd obviously been waiting, ears straining, for the sound that would tell her the job had been done, and that Evie was triumphantly driving out of this winter wilderness with the rotor arm in her pocket.
She hadn't been able to hide her pleasure so she'd dressed it up as relief at the return of her so-called missing sister. And then, and only then, had she thrown herself into the anxiety act, begging him to contact the police, safe in the knowledge that he wouldn't be going anywhere.
Not tonight, at least. Tomorrow he'd be out of here, even if he walked the soles clean off his shoes! Although she'd said she'd go with him, he recognised that as sheer bravado. She could stay here and play the reconciliation scene to an empty house!
He turned, put two cups of tea on the central table. She was standing where he'd left her. Not weeping now, not doing anything. Her ashen face and the anguished twist of her mouth wrenched at his guts.
His mouth went dry, his throat muscles clenching. Had she wanted a reconciliation that badly? Badly enough to make her dream up this last-ditch farce?
Not allowing himself to even think of that, he said tersely, âDrink this; you look as if you need it.' He went to the work surface where the bottles were lined up like an invitation to a week-long bacchanalia. He selected a brandy, noting the expense she had been prepared to go to, and poured two generous measures into glasses that he unearthed from one of the cupboards.
Â
Bella watched him from heavy eyes. The hard, lean body was full of grace, despite all that sharply honed power. She knew that body as well as she knew her own. Better. She had never tired of watching him, of drowning in the effect he had on herâan effect that was threatening to swamp her all over again with its full and shattering force.
Her stomach twisted with unwanted excitement, her pulses going into overdrive, blood throbbing thickly through her veins. She whimpered, angry with herself, with the wretched body that couldn't accept that their marriage, their loveâeverythingâwas over.
She wanted to walk out of this room but couldn't move. There was potent chemistry here, keeping her immobile, a subtle kind of magic holding her against her will. She watched him turn. He was holding what looked like two huge doses of brandy in his elegant, capable hands.
âSit,' he commanded tersely. âTea and then a shot of brandy could help.'
âI don't want it.' She dragged her eyes from the heart-stopping wonder of him, fixing them on the floor, not caring if she looked and sounded like a sulky child.
She was no longer his wife, not in any real sense, so she didn't have to let him pull her strings, tell her what to do and when to do it. Not any more.
Besottedly in love with him, she'd never made a fuss when things hadn't worked out the way she wanted them to. She'd taken it for granted that, because he loved her, the decisions he made regarding the present and the future were the best for them. She'd believed he had some grand plan, the details of which had been a mystery to her.
Love had made her turn herself into a doormat She now knew he had never loved herâcouldn't have doneâso was it any wonder he'd thought nothing at all of walking all over her?
Thrusting the disturbing revelation aside, she lifted her head and gave him a defiant look. âI'm going to bed. I've had as much of today as I can stomach.' She was doing the dictating now, and in some perverse way was almost enjoying it. âYou said you'd be making tracks in the morning. Don't go without me.' She stared at him from glass-clear, challenging eyes. âMy sense of direction is nil, as you might remember. So take it as self-preservation on my part, not a warped desire for your company.'
Let him chew that over! Engineered this unlikely set-up, had she? Conceited brute!
She was at the foot of the wooden staircase when his terse voice stopped her in her tracks.
âHave you eaten today? You won't get far on what will probably turn out to be a ten-mile hike to get to anything remotely approaching civilisation on a diet of vinegary spleen.' His tone wasn't remotely humorous, nor even a touch compassionate. It was totally judgemental. âWas losing weight part of your job requirements? Stick insects still high fashion, are they?'