Читать книгу Long Night's Loving - Anne Mather, Anne Mather - Страница 9

CHAPTER FOUR

NOT for the first time since she’d arrived at Haversham, Maggie wished she had something different to wear. Her skirt was creased, and the skinny-rib sweater had a wine stain, she noticed unhappily.

Still, she had no choice but to wear it—and the skirt, she conceded ruefully. This wasn’t some fairy tale where, when she opened the wardrobes in her dressing room, she was suddenly confronted with a magical choice of clothes. Her cupboards were disappointingly empty. There wasn’t even a change of shoes.

Not that she had expected any. When she and Neil had separated, someone had taken intense pleasure in packing up all her belongings and forwarding them to her London house. They’d even sent the half-empty shampoo bottles she’d left in the bathroom. As if ensuring that she never attempted to visit Neil again.

Neil.

Still dressed in only her slip and pantihose, Maggie sank down onto the stool before the mirrored dressing table and regarded her reflection without liking. Hazel eyes stared back at her, green in some lights, and presently full of scorn for herself, and for the reason why she had come here. She’d known, before she left London, that, whatever resentment she might still hold towards her ex-husband, what she was going to ask him was outrageous. She’d known he’d never agree to it, not after all these years of sequestration. It wasn’t his problem. She’d made it hers when she’d accepted custody of their daughter. She couldn’t expect him to feel the same responsibility for Lindsey that she did. He was right. He owed Lindsey nothing. Certainly not the curtailment of his freedom, of the privacy he’d sought so long to maintain.

Yet when he’d insisted on her postponing her going to bed the night before she had known a brief spurt of expectation. She couldn’t think of any other reason why he might want to delay her and, for all her feelings of guilt and culpability, she had returned to her seat on the sofa, with the first shreds of hope she’d felt in a long time.

She should have known better. She should have realised that Lindsey’s involvement with a man old enough to be her father, and Neil’s estranged agent to boot, was unlikely to stir any but the most primitive feelings of resentment. Oh, sure, Neil didn’t like it, but throwing away his future for it was something else. He might find some other way to get back at Mike Reynolds for trying to blackmail him, but as far as he was concerned she was to blame.

Maggie’s lips trembled for a moment and, seeing it, she pressed an impatient hand against her mouth. You fool! she berated herself. You stupid fool! Did you have to lose what little dignity you possessed? Did you have to let him see how weak you were?

She sought blindly for her make-up case which was lying on the glass tray in front of her. Pulling out a jar of moist- urising foundation, she began to smooth it onto her face. Her skin was still supple, but she could only see the incipient wrinkles. Why was it that men aged so much slower? It wasn’t fair that women should bear that as well as everything else.

The first inkling she had had that Neil had more than a simple discussion in mind had come when, after getting them both a brandy, he’d chosen to sit beside her on the same sofa. Instead of removing himself to the comparative distance of the other sofa, he’d chosen to stretch his length beside her, his heels propped carelessly on the edge of the polished table, his thigh depressing the cushion by her hip.

‘So, tell me,’ he said, supporting his head with his hands linked at his nape, ‘how did Lindsey meet a rat like Mike Reynolds?’

Maggie endeavoured to appear unmoved by his proximity. ‘He—I—he already knew her.’

‘As a baby,’ he amended drily. ‘Lindsey was only ten when Reynolds and I parted company.’

‘I know that.’

‘So?’

‘So, all right.’ Maggie sighed. ‘She met him at a party given by the fashion wholesalers. They thought it would be fun, having some celebrities present.’

Neil looked at her out of the sides of his eyes. ‘Mike Reynolds is a celebrity?’ he said disbelievingly. ‘Since when?’

‘He has some celebrity clients,’ said Maggie uncomfortably, far too aware of the intensity of his gaze. ‘Not least yourself—at least, when you were working.’

Neil’s mouth turned down. ‘I haven’t stopped working.’

‘You know what I mean,’ declared Maggie, sighing.

‘Touring, doing gigs, appearing on Top of the Pops, that sort of thing.’ She ignored his ironic stare, and hurried on impulsively, ‘He still has several good bands on his books.’

‘Has he? I wouldn’t know.’

Neil’s tone was dismissive, but Maggie didn’t quite believe him. If she knew her ex-husband, he’d know exactly what Mike Reynolds was doing, and with whom. Since the man had cheated Neil out of more than a million pounds, she’d have expected him to be waiting for a chance to get even.

‘So, to advertise that rubbishy little business of yours, you introduced our daughter to the jerk of the year!’

‘No.’ Maggie was defensive. ‘And it’s not a rubbishy little business. We have two shops now. We have one in Bournemouth, as well as the one in London.’

“‘We?”’ Neil arched dark brows. ‘Is that the royal “we”, or do I take it you’ve got another man in tow?’

‘It’s we as in myself and Jackie,’ retorted Maggie hotly. ‘You knew my sister was a partner. It was because of her that I opened the boutique in the first place.’

‘I thought it was to—how did you put it?—find yourself? Or something equally unlikely,’ said Neil mockingly. ‘Well, have you found what you were looking for? Or are you still searching?’ He grimaced. ‘It’s a hell of a way to live your life.’

Maggie felt the unexpected prick of tears behind her eyes now. ‘You’re a cruel devil, Neil,’ she told him. ‘You never could resist making fun of me.’

‘Then why don’t I find it amusing?’ he enquired sardonically. ‘Come on, Maggie. Tell me about Reynolds. And why you would allow that bastard to get near my daughter.’

Maggie managed to stop herself from commenting on his sudden wish to assume paternity, and replied, ‘I didn’t allow her to get to know him. They already knew one another. Have you forgotten how often he used to come to the house?’

‘But she was a kid.’

‘She was when you and Mike broke up—’

‘Like I said, a kid.’

‘—but old enough to recognise him again when she saw him.’ Maggie sighed. ‘And she knew nothing about why you sacked him, and it wasn’t something I’d discussed with her since. I never thought it might become a problem. He was out of our life—out of all our lives. Or so I thought’

‘But now he’s back again?’

‘Yes.’

‘Doing what, exactly?’

Maggie lifted her shoulders. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that Lindsey is crazy about him, and she won’t listen to any objections I make.’

Neil hesitated. ‘Is he sleeping with her?’

Maggie’s face flamed. It was ridiculous, really, but his question was so unexpected, and she had forgotten what it was like to be that outspoken with a man. ‘Um—I haven’t asked her,’ she admitted at last, wishing she’d anticipated what he might say. ‘I doubt if he’s capable of sustaining any other kind of relationship, and Lindsey’s not—not unaware of sex.’

Neil’s expression revealed his frustration. ‘You mean she isn’t a virgin?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Maggie wished she’d never started this. ‘Whether I like it or not, girls of Lindsey’s age are sexually active. They get the Pill as soon as they’re old enough to be interested in boys. I might not have, but society has recognised that teenagers will experiment, and it’s better that they’re protected than not.’

Neil half turned in his seat towards her. ‘Since when have you become so knowledgeable about what teenagers think?’ he asked softly, and Maggie felt the draught of his warm breath against her cheek.

‘Since I was obliged to cope as a single parent,’ she responded stiffly, refusing to look at him. ‘I’m sure you think it’s all my fault, but, as I said earlier, Lindsey’s too old to be told who she can and cannot date.’

Neil frowned. ‘What did you say when she first told you she was going out with Reynolds?’

Maggie slumped back against the cushions. ‘She didn’t tell me. At least, not initially. I don’t know if he’d told her to keep it quiet, but they’d been seeing one another for almost three months before I found out.’

‘And how did you find out?’

‘He told me.’ Her lips twisted. ‘He called at the shop one afternoon when I was alone, and took great pleasure in relaying the fact that he was Lindsey’s new boyfriend. I knew she’d been seeing someone, but I’d assumed it was a boy she used to know. Mike said he’d been dating her since the night of the party, and that she was mad about him. And she was—is.’

Neil was silent for so long that she was obliged to look at him, half afraid of what she might see in his gaze. But to her surprise—and dismay—his eyes were fixed on her anxious face, and she froze into startled immobility when he reached out and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

‘Poor Mags,’ he said, drawing his fingers across her parted lips. ‘I can imagine how you felt when he said that. He always admired you, you know, so perhaps Lindsey is just a substitute. Not to mention what he thought he had to gain from it.’

Maggie blinked. ‘You’re not angry?’

Neil shrugged. ‘Sure I am, but I’m coming to terms with it. Besides, why should I give him the satisfaction? It would serve him right if I chose to call his bluff.’

‘But you can’t.’ Maggie was horrified.

‘Why can’t I?’

‘Well, because you can’t want Lindsey to go out with a snake like him.’

‘But as you said,’ he pointed out softly, ‘it’s not as if she was totally innocent. And Reynolds will soon get sick when he finds his plan isn’t working.’

Maggie stared at him. ‘I don’t believe this.’

‘What don’t you believe?’

‘That—that you’d abandon your daughter to get back at me.’

‘At you?’ Neil was taken aback. ‘What has it got to do with you?’

Maggie swallowed. ‘That—that crack, about him admiring me; what did you mean by that?’

Neil’s eyes widened. ‘I didn’t mean anything,’ he said innocently. ‘But Mike was attracted to you. You knew that.’

‘Well, I wasn’t attracted to him.’ Maggie eyed him fiercely. ‘You’re not implying that I’m in league with him or anything?’

‘In league with Mike Reynolds?’ Neil’s lips twisted. ‘Now there’s a novelty.’

‘Because I’m not,’ she added firmly. ‘I can’t think of anyone I dislike more.’

‘Not even me?’ he taunted her, trailing provocative fingers down her sleeve, and Maggie shivered in spite of herself.

‘No. Not even you,’ she assured him tightly, lifting her arm to remove his teasing caress. ‘Don’t play with me, Neil. I’m serious. There must be something we can do.’

‘Oh, there is.’

Neil’s words—and the sensual caress of his eyes—caused a blistering wave of heat to engulf her. Her hands, which had been cold, were now slippery with sweat, and she could feel the awareness that had started in the bath centred like a pulse low in her stomach.

‘Wh-what?’ she asked jerkily, looking anywhere but at him. God, did he know what he was doing to her, or was he just testing his famous charm?

‘Ride with it,’ he declared, startling her into another unwary appraisal. ‘As I see it, Lindsey wouldn’t want to be with him if he wasn’t treating her well. I was mad, sure, when you first told me, but that’s what he wants. Don’t you see? He expects me to come rushing back to London. When I don’t, he’s going to be seriously disappointed.’

Maggie stared at him disbelievingly. ‘But you said—’

‘What did I say?’

‘You said there was something we could do.’

“There is.’ His arm was along the back of the seat behind her, and now she could feel his fingers toying with the ends of her silky blonde hair. ‘We can spend a pleasant evening together. It’ll be like old times. Before your ego—and Oliver Massey—got in the way.’

Maggie felt like bursting into tears. This couldn’t be happening, she thought. Not only was Neil refusing to help her, but he seemed to think her coming here had given him some divine right to torment her, not just mentally but physically as well. When his fingers brushed her neck, she almost jumped a mile, and when Neil’s hand descended on her shoulder, she thrust her empty glass onto the table and tried to move away.

‘Mags,’ he said, and even the way he said her name caused every nerve in her body to tingle, ‘why shouldn’t we enjoy this while it lasts?’ He looped the veil of her hair behind her ear so that he could see her profile, his breath fanning her nape as he spoke. ‘You know you want to. You’re trembling so badly, you’re in danger of shaking both of us off the sofa. Not that I’d object to that entirely. It wouldn’t be the first time we’d made love on the floor.’

’M-made I-love?’ she stammered, her eyes wide and panicky, gazing into his.

‘Why not?’ he asked, his free hand cupping her face, the pad of his thumb moving sensuously over the delicate contours of her ear. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how good it always was between us.’ His hand moved down, pausing so he could rub one swollen nipple with his palm, before coming to rest on her knee. ‘You used to tell me you ached,’ he added, his thumb defining the separation of her legs. ‘Here,’ he said, his voice uneven, but when he would have lifted the hem of her skirt she brought both hands down to stop him.

‘No.’

‘No?’

Patently, he didn’t believe her, and she couldn’t altogether blame him. Dear God, her muscles were shaking with the effort of holding her knees together, when all she really wanted to do was open her legs.

‘We can’t,’ she insisted unsteadily, wishing his lean, dark face weren’t so destructively sensual in the lamplight. His narrowed eyes were watching her mouth, and almost instinctively, it seemed, her tongue emerged to moisten her parted lips.

He disturbed her so much. He always had. She felt like someone who had been lost in the desert, desperate for water, and who had suddenly come upon a pool of fresh clean water. She was dying of thirst; she wanted to plunge in; but she was afraid it was a mirage—that if she took that final step she’d find it was only sand.

She tried to distract herself by dissecting his features. What was there about him that held her so in thrall? Hooded eyes, narrow cheekbones, a thin, almost cruel mouth should not hold such power over her. Yet she knew her control was as fragile as gossamer. If he touched her, her resistance would shatter like a mirror.

‘Why can’t we?’ he countered, permitting her to prevent his hand from exploring farther, but not giving up. He bent towards her, the edges of his shirt parting to reveal the brown column of his throat, and caught her earlobe between his teeth. He bit her, hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to do any real damage. ‘I want to touch you, Maggie. Don’t you want to touch me?’

Did she?

Maggie quivered. ‘I am touching you,’ she said, gripping his hand in her lap still tighter. ‘But I think I ought to go to bed. I—I’ve got to be up early in the morning.’

‘Well, I agree about going to bed,’ murmured Neil, transferring his attention to the curve of her neck. She felt his tongue making sensuous circles against her flesh, and wondered how much more of this she could take without giving in. ‘Mmm, you smell nice. I guess you’re still using the same perfume. Do you still cover all your pulse-points like you used to? Well, most of them,’ he amended, loosening the buttons at the neckline of the skinny-rib sweater. There are certain points I wouldn’t want to contaminate with artificial scents.’

‘Neil!’

‘What?’ His face was only inches from hers now, and she could see the raw sexuality in his gaze. That. and something else she didn’t recognise, and which she was too distraught to worry about at that moment.

‘Don’t do this,’ she wailed, but he had never obeyed her.

‘Do what?’ he breathed. ‘Do this—?’ He brushed her lips with his tongue. ‘Or this—?’ He cupped her nape and tipped her face up to his. ‘Or do you mean this?’ he asked, with sudden harshness, and his lips covered her protesting mouth.

Maggie’s resistance snapped. Desire, hot and strong, swept through her veins, quickening her pulse and thickening her blood. She could hear it pounding in her head, could feel the hammering beat of her heart in her chest. The sound was thundering in her ears, deafening her to any voice of caution. It had been so long since Neil had held her in his arms, so long since she had felt anything but bitter regret.