Читать книгу Captive Loving - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 5

SHE should have known, should have guessed by Andrew's charming manner just now, that the man she knew simply as Matthew was someone important. No, not just someone important, he was the man Andrew most wanted to impress. And he had been flirting with her shamelessly.

She looked up at Andrew. ‘I thought that was John Sinclair?’

It was Matthew who answered her. ‘I am John Sinclair, but so was my father. I prefer to use my second name rather than be called Young John Sinclair.’ His mouth twisted derisively.

Jessica looked at him with new eyes, no longer seeing the man who had tried to pick her up a few minutes ago, now seeing the authority that was second nature to him, his autocratic bearing. He was everything the wealthy owner of Sinclair's should be, Sinclair Office Supplies having tentacles all over the world, and she should have seen that in him from the first.

‘Your wife had just promised me a dance,’ he told Andrew. ‘That is, if you have no objection,’ he added as an afterthought.

‘No, of course not,’ Andrew answered, as Jessica had known he would, flushing his pleasure that Matthew Sinclair had chosen his wife out of all the other females in the room; most of them were just waiting for the owner of the firm to notice them.

‘Jessica?’ Matthew Sinclair quirked a questioning eyebrow at her.

‘I——’ She broke off her refusal as Andrew's fingers bit painfully into her waist. ‘I would love to,’ she amended, knowing she would never hear the end of it if she turned this man down. Andrew would surely never forgive her. And those threats of divorce earlier had sounded genuine enough.

They were the cynosure of all eyes as they stepped on to the dance floor, the fast disco-sound giving way to a slow love song, couples moving naturally into each other's arms as they swayed together to the music.

‘I couldn't have chosen better myself,’ Matthew murmured as the theme from Love Story became audible. He slowly pulled her into his arms, making no effort to hold her formally, as one would have expected between employer and employee's wife, his hands resting possessively on her hips as his body moved sensually against hers, his temple resting lightly against hers.

Jessica at once felt panic, and pushed at his shoulders. ‘Please—don't do that,’ she said awkwardly, feeling his tension even in her inexperience.

Matthew looked down at her with puzzled eyes, dancing slightly away from her now. ‘You must have been very young when you married,’ he said gruffly.

She nodded, not looking at him. ‘Eighteen.’

‘Do you love him?’

Her lashes fluttered nervously, and she looked hastily away from probing tawny eyes. ‘Of course I love him,’ she answered sharply, too sharply, realising how defensive she sounded. ‘Andrew is my husband,’ she added simply.

‘For better, for worse?’ Matthew scorned tightly.

‘Exactly.’

‘Jessica——’

‘I think the music has stopped, Mr Sinclair.’ She moved away from him.

He made no effort to leave the dance floor, attracting several curious looks. ‘You want me to take you back to Andrew?’ he asked huskily.

She knew there was much more significance behind the words than appeared on the surface. And this had to stop now. Not even for Andrew and the sake of his promotion would she put up with this man's familiarity.

‘Yes, I would,’ she replied stiltedly. ‘And isn't it time you returned to your wife?’

‘I don't have a wife, Jessica,’ he told her deeply. ‘Unlike you, I was patient.’

‘Patient …?’ She shook her head. ‘I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean.’

‘No,’ he sighed, ‘I can see you don't. And I'm not in a position to tell you, not any more. Come on, I'll take you back to your husband.’

‘Thank you,’ she nodded coolly.

Matthew's hand on her elbow was impersonal as he guided her back to Andrew's side. ‘Maybe I could borrow your wife for another dance later?’ he said with stilted politeness.

‘Of course, sir,’ Andrew agreed eagerly, without even consulting her. ‘Jessica would like that,’ he added enthusiastically.

‘Jessica,’ Matthew nodded abruptly before leaving them.

Andrew dragged her over to a vacant table near the bar. ‘I don't know how you did it,’ he said excitedly, ‘but you certainly made a hit with Sinclair!’

‘Don't be silly, Andrew.’ She looked away, blushing unconsciously, noting that Matthew Sinclair was now dancing with a tall black-haired woman, her voluptuous figure shown to advantage in the green gown she wore, the two of them dancing even closer together than he and Jessica had. She turned back to Andrew. ‘I merely met him outside—in the corridor.’ She didn't want to tell him she had gone into the wrong room, he would only berate her for her stupidity. ‘He—he offered to escort me in here.’

‘He likes you,’ Andrew insisted. ‘Sinclair has always seemed a very cold fish to me. But he certainly didn't act that way with you.’

No, he certainly hadn't, although she thought she had got her feelings of uninterest over to him now. ‘He isn't acting that way with his partner now either,’ she pointed out dryly.

Andrew looked towards the dance-floor, easily locating Matthew Sinclair and his partner. ‘Don't be ridiculous, Jessica—that's Lisa,’ he scowled.

Jessica's eyes widened as she looked at the other woman with new eyes. Yes, she would be the sort of woman who appealed to Andrew, her sexuality oozed from every pore in her body.

And it was just like Andrew to be jealous of Matthew Sinclair's attention to his mistress, and consider the same attention shown to his wife an asset!

Lisa—or Alicia, to give her her real name—was strikingly beautiful, in her early twenties, with a figure any model would envy, except perhaps that her bust was a little too full to suit their slenderness. And she certainly didn't look as if she minded having Matthew Sinclair's arms about her; her own arms were entwined about his neck as they moved slowly in time to the music.

Andrew was scowling heavily now, his anger deepening as Matthew Sinclair and Alicia went to the bar together once the music had stopped. ‘Excuse me,’ he mumbled, and stood up, making his own way to the bar. After buying himself a drink he sauntered over to join the other couple.

Jessica turned away to hide her shame. He was making himself so obvious, making a fool of himself.

‘Hello there, love,’ greeted a cheery voice. ‘All alone, are you?’

She looked up into the face of a man who had obviously had too much to drink already, a man in his forties, very overweight, an alcoholic flush to his flabby cheeks. And he seemed to have singled her out for his inebriated attention. ‘No, I'm not alone,’ she told him in her coldest voice. ‘My partner will be back in a moment,’ although by the look of Andrew he wasn't going to leave Alicia's side for some time to come, and Matthew Sinclair was noticeably absent from their group now.

‘Not if he's Andrew Baxter, he won't.’ The drunken man pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘Randy Andy, we call him in the office.’ He gave a suggestive laugh, his expression leering. ‘That's because he is.’ The man leant forward over the table, breathing beer fumes all over her. ‘Randy, I mean.’

Jessica had stiffened at his insulting tone. ‘The—nickname you have for Andrew is of no interest to me.’ She stood up. ‘If you'll excuse me …’ She had no idea where she was going, just away from this man.

‘Hey, not so fast!’ His hand came out and caught her about the wrist, surprisingly strong. ‘If you don't want to talk about Rand—er—Andy, then we won't. I can understand you being annoyed with him, he shouldn't really have bothered to bring one of his little friends when he already has Alicia,’ he chuckled. ‘You can be my little friend if you like.’

The idea nauseated her. ‘Andy brought his wife with him this time,’ she snapped. ‘Now, would you take your hands off me?’

He let go of her as if she had burnt him. ‘Cold little bitch, aren't you?’ he glared his dislike. ‘No wonder Andy says you're frigid! You should give the man what he wants——’

Jessica didn't wait to hear any more, but turned to rush out of the room, her face deathly white. Andrew had talked about her to that man, had discussed their sexual differences with a total stranger. God, she could just imagine the crudeness of that conversation, the ribald remarks! Did everyone in that room know she didn't sleep with her husband?

‘Jessica!’

She stopped her mad flight at the sound of that familiar voice, and turned to find Matthew Sinclair striding down the corridor to join her.

He grasped her forearms, searching her pale features. ‘Jessica, are you all right? Did Taylor insult you?’ he demanded in an angry voice.

‘Taylor?’ she echoed dully. Did this man know of her marital difficulties too? If he did then Andrew bringing her here tonight was a waste of time.

‘The man you were talking to——’

‘I wasn't talking to him, he was talking to me.’ She blinked back the tears.

‘Jessica …’ Matthew groaned.

‘Please, let me go.’ She shook off his hands, regaining her composure with effort. ‘Mr Taylor didn't insult me, he—he's just a little drunk, I think.’

Matthew nodded grimly. ‘More than a little. I'll get someone to take him home.’

Jessica would have liked to go home too, but Andrew had disappeared from the hall by the time she got up to leave—and Alicia was noticeably absent too.

‘Come with me,’ Matthew said tersely, leading her over to the lift.

Jessica hung back. ‘I—Where are you taking me?’

His mouth twisted into a smile, his tawny eyes hard. ‘Just somewhere away from this noise,’ he mocked.

That ‘somewhere’ turned out to be his office on the top floor. He took her through the spacious adjoining sitting-room, switching on the lights to move to the drinks cabinet. ‘Brandy, I think,’ he murmured, pouring some into a glass before handing it to her. ‘Where was your husband while all that was going on?’ he snapped in a harsh voice.

‘He—he stepped outside for some air,’ she invented, sipping the brandy, and instantly beginning to choke as the fiery liquid hit the back of her throat.

Matthew came forward to pat her gently on the back. ‘Good grief, girl,’ he said impatiently, ‘anyone would think you'd never drunk brandy before!’

‘I haven't,’ she choked, tears wetting her cheeks.

He raised his eyes heavenwards. ‘How old are you? Ah yes, twenty-five,’ he answered his own question. ‘But you don't like to socialise.’

It was a statement that didn't really require an answer, so she didn't proffer one.

‘Your husband likes to—socialise,’ he continued, his mouth twisting contemptuously.

‘Yes,’ she acknowledged huskily.

‘But you don't?’ he persisted.

‘No.’

‘You didn't attend the dance last year with your husband, did you.’

Jessica evaded his eyes. ‘No.’

‘Why not?’ he rasped. ‘Office parties are notorious for starting—affairs.’

She looked up now, meeting his probing gaze unflinchingly. ‘Are they?’ she asked uninterestedly.

‘Yes,’ he hissed. ‘Why weren't you here last year?’

Jessica looked down at her hands. ‘My little girl was ill,’ she mumbled, knowing she would have done her best to get out of it even if Penny hadn't been ill, as she had tried to this time, to no avail. ‘I—stayed at home to take care of her.’

‘But your husband didn't feel the same necessity?’ he snapped.

She shrugged. ‘It was only a cold, I didn't see why we should both miss the—fun.’

‘Fun …?’ Matthew repeated slowly, his gaze searching, disbelieving. ‘Do you like to have—fun?’ he asked softly.

‘I—No—I——’ She stood up. ‘I think I would like to rejoin Andrew now,’ she told Matthew coldly.

‘No!’ It was almost a shout, and Matthew was at her side within seconds. ‘I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply—God, I don't know what I mean any more!’ he groaned in an aching voice.

Jessica only had time to raise startled eyes before she felt herself being pulled into his arms, his mouth slowly lowering towards hers. ‘No!’ She flinched away from him, but he just kept right on coming, his mouth taking possession of hers.

It was five years since she had been kissed by anyone except Penny, and that firm cruel-looking mouth felt strange on hers, his lips moving sensually against hers, remorselessly so.

Jessica didn't respond or resist, standing impassive in his arms until he at last released her. His face was white, his expression grim. ‘So you do love your husband after all,’ he said harshly, pushing her away from him.

‘Yes,’ she said emotionlessly, knowing that nothing could be further from the truth. She had stopped feeling anything but fear of Andrew years ago.

Matthew swallowed hard. ‘I'll take you back to the dance.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Jessica——’

‘Andrew will be looking for me.’ She looked at him with unwavering eyes.

‘Like hell he will!’ he exploded. ‘He—Oh, never mind!’ he dismissed impatiently. ‘I'll take you back downstairs, if that's what you want.’ He hesitated, as if hoping she would say it wasn't.

‘It is,’ she said firmly.

They didn't talk at all going back down in the lift, both seemingly lost in their own thoughts—Jessica's tortuous.

Matthew Sinclair was the only other man to kiss her besides Andrew, and he had kissed totally unlike her husband. His lips had been gentle, searching, anxious to evoke a response within her, asking for that response.

And hadn't she felt the stirrings of that response, a gravitation to the warmth after so many years of coldness? Heavens, she was a married woman, had a child, and yet she had let a complete stranger hold her in his arms and kiss her!

But why had Matthew Sinclair kissed her? Did he think that because Andrew had affairs she was the same, that they were one of these so-called ‘modern’ couples who had sexual relationships outside marriage?

If he had he hadn't received the response he wanted. But the kiss had unsettled her, shown her that she wasn't as immune to physical warmth as she had always thought she was, as Andrew had convinced her she was.

Frigid, Andrew said she was. Well, she might be, but that one brief kiss of Matthew Sinclair's had shown her that frigid or not she liked to be held against another human being, to feel cared for, protected. After five years of Andrew's jibes and insults the other man's show of warmth, if not true affection, had caused an ache of longing she had thought buried deep within her, an ache for something she had never known—something she would never know!

She was married to Andrew, would stay married to Andrew, and despite the constant stream of women in his life she knew she would never turn to another man. Why face the name-calling and bitterness for a second time in her life? There was something missing from her body, something fundamental, that prevented her giving or receiving pleasure from any man.

‘I'm sorry,’ Matthew said abruptly at her side.

Jessica looked at him with pain-filled eyes, knowing that he apologised as much for what he had briefly thought about her as for the way he had kissed her. ‘Yes.’ Her voice was emotionless through years of practice.

‘I have no excuse for what happened just now,’ he continued stiffly.

They stepped out of the lift together, the dance sounding noisier than ever. ‘It isn't important,’ she dismissed, already looking for Andrew.

Painful fingers bit into her arm. ‘It is to me,’ Matthew ground out. ‘I'm not in the habit of kissing married women.’

Jessica turned to look at him; his face was harsh, a pulse beating erratically at his jaw. No, he wouldn't be in the habit of kissing a woman who belonged to another man. The pride in his brow, the forbidding line of his mouth told her that he deeply regretted it had happened this time.

‘I have no intention of telling my husband——’

‘Your husband!’ he cut in angrily, his tawny eyes blazing. ‘I couldn't give a damn about your husband. It's you I'm apologising to, not him.’

‘And I've accepted that apology,’ she told him in a puzzled voice, not understanding why he was so angry.

His eyes darkened. ‘Jessica—Oh, why the hell did you have to be married!’ He swore before walking off, anyone who was in his path quickly getting out of the way.

Jessica turned away, knowing she had seen the last of Matthew Sinclair. She knew why she was married, why she was still married despite Andrew's affair—because of Penny, because of the one person who meant anything in her life. Every time Andrew's behaviour became too much for her she would take one look at her young daughter and know it was all worth it.

‘Where the hell have you been?’

Andrew wasn't smiling charmingly this time, he was scowling heavily, and he wasn't alone either. Alicia was clinging to his arm—and looking as if she had a perfect right to be there! Her expression was blatantly insolent as she looked down at Jessica, at least six inches taller, and very sure of her own beauty.

‘Jessica,’ Andrew prompted impatiently, ‘I asked you a question.’

She blushed her resentment of the other woman listening to the conversation, knowing that Alicia was aware of her discomfort. ‘I wasn't the one who disappeared, Andrew, you were.’ Her voice was more aggressive than ever before—but then she had never been humiliated in front of one of Andrew's mistresses before!

He flushed angrily. ‘We—I only stepped outside for a moment. You were talking to Ed Taylor when I left the room.’

‘I wasn't talking to him,’ she mumbled. ‘He was insulting me.’

‘Ed was?’ Andrew laughed his disbelief. ‘The trouble with you, Jessica, is that you're too damned sensitive.’

And he was totally insensitive! It didn't even occur to him to keep his wife and mistress apart, not even when he knew she was aware of his relationship with the other woman.

‘Perhaps,’ she agreed tightly. ‘But I know when I'm being insulted,’ and she looked almost challengingly at Alicia.

‘I think she means me, darling,’ Alicia drawled, her voice deep and husky, sexy, men probably thought.

Andrew frowned and gave Jessica a sharp look. ‘Of course she doesn't,’ he dismissed, being used to a more subdued and obedient Jessica.

‘Darling,’ Alicia purred, ‘why don't you go and get—Jessica and me a drink? I'm sure we would both like one.’

‘I——’

‘Okay,’ Andrew cut through Jessica's dismayed protest. ‘I won't be long.’

‘Take your time,’ Alicia murmured softly. ‘I'm sure Jessica and I can find—something to talk about—a mutual interest, perhaps.’

Jessica knew that the only thing she had in common with this woman was Andrew, and he knew it too, giving a rather cruel smile in her direction before going to the bar.

‘Shall we sit down?’ Alicia suggested softly.

Jessica seated herself opposite the other woman, knowing they were the centre of attention. They knew, all these people knew, and her humiliation was complete as she saw Matthew Sinclair watching them some distance away, in conversation with another man, although his gaze was fixed on her.

She looked away before that fierce gaze gave way to pity. Matthew Sinclair's sympathy was the one thing she couldn't take right now. No wonder he had tried to kiss her upstairs in his office—he obviously knew of Andrew's affair with his secretary!

‘Why don't you let him go?’ The purring quality had gone from Alicia's voice, the hardness in her beautiful face now evident in her voice too.

Jessica blinked dazedly, frowning at the other woman. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Alicia's mouth twisted. ‘Andrew doesn't love you, so why don't you let him go?’

She swallowed hard, shaking her head. ‘I don't know what you're talking about.’ And she didn't. If Andrew had wanted to leave her she knew there was no way she could stop him.

Alicia was angry now. ‘Andrew told me how you refuse to divorce him, that you use your daughter to hold him——’

‘That isn't true!’ Jessica gasped at the irony of it.

The other woman's expression was scathing. ‘I've heard about women like you, I've even met a couple, but I can tell you now that you've met your match in me. Andrew and I want to get married, the only thing stopping us is you. I mean to have you out of his life, Jessica. I'm even willing to put up with the child to get him.’

‘Child?’ Jessica paled, her hands clenching. ‘You mean Penny?’

‘Yes—I mean Penny,’ Alicia scorned.

‘You aren't taking my daughter from me!’ Her breath was coming in short disturbed gasps, her eyes huge in her pale face.

‘Believe me,’ the other woman drawled, ‘I'd rather not. But Andrew is determined to keep her——'.

‘No!’ Jessica's tone was sharp with distress. ‘No one is going to take Penny away from me. No one!’ Her voice rose hysterically at the thought of life without Penny.

‘Hey, calm down!’ Alicia looked about them selfconsciously. ‘Maybe I chose the wrong place to discuss this——’

‘Anywhere would be the wrong place to discuss taking my child from me!’ Two bright spots of colour heightened Jessica's cheeks. ‘I won't let you——’

‘Jessica, for God's sake!’ Andrew had returned unnoticed by either woman. ‘People can hear you!’ he muttered, sitting down.

‘Really?’ Her eyes glittered. ‘And do you think they aren't hearing what they already know? I'd like to go home,’ she told him coldly.

‘I've just got you a drink——’

‘I want to go,’ she repeated firmly. ‘Either you take me or I get a taxi.’

He frowned. ‘Jess——’

‘Then I'll take a taxi.’ She stood up, moving with as much confidence as she could towards the exit, and took the lift down to the ground floor.

‘Jessica!’ Andrew caught up with her in the car park, swinging her round to face him. ‘How dare you talk to me like that in front of Lisa?’ He flushed with anger.

‘How dare you use me?’ she returned furiously.

‘I—What do you mean?’ he frowned.

‘I've just been informed by your girl-friend that I'm the only thing stopping you marrying her.’

‘And aren't you?’ he snapped.

‘You know I'm not!’ she flushed. ‘How many other women have you told the same thing so that you're free from any commitment to marry them?’ she scorned.

‘Hundreds,’ his mouth twisted, ‘and it worked every time. I just explain to them that I have this frigid little wife at home who'll deprive me of my child if I so much as mention divorce.’

‘Well, tonight Alicia mentioned it for you,’ Jessica snapped disgustedly. ‘So maybe you just weren't convincing enough for her.’

His eyes glittered, his dark good looks contorted with rage. ‘Maybe I didn't want to be. Lisa is my kind of woman—she likes to act like a woman,’ he added cruelly. ‘And she has brains too. Yes, maybe I just might marry her after all.’

‘No …’ she paled.

‘Yes,’ he said with enjoyment. ‘The other women never meant a thing to me, but Lisa is different. I wouldn't at all mind being married to her. Not that you haven't had your uses oyer the years,’ he added scathingly. ‘You've been a good deterrent to marriage-minded women. God, that's the only reason I stayed married to you,’ he laughed. ‘You have little else to offer.’

His laugh was the final insult as far as Jessica was concerned. She had taken too much tonight already—Matthew Sinclair's strange behaviour, Ed Taylor's insults, pitying looks from almost everyone who looked at her, Alicia's ‘friendly’ little chat, and now this definite threat of divorce from Andrew, and so cruelly given.

Her hand seemed to rise almost in slow motion, hitting the side of Andrew's face with such force that for a moment he seemed to stagger.

But he soon regained his balance, his eyes glittering dangerously as he advanced towards her. Jessica didn't even flinch as he coldly, calculatedly, hit her back.

There had been too much violence from him in the past for it to matter to her; she did not even feel the pain any more. Andrew was one of those men who hit out when he was angry. For herself she had ceased to care, and as long as he didn't use that same violence on Penny she would continue to cease caring.

‘I'm going back to the dance,’ he growled. ‘I could be home later, but then again I may just stay out all night. And I mean it about the divorce, Jessica. And you know what that means?’ he sneered.

Pain contracted her chest. ‘Penny …’

‘Yes!’ His smile was cruel in the extreme. ‘You aren't a fit mother for her, we both know that. Lisa will be much better for her.’ He turned and strode away, a tall, athletic-looking man with rakish good looks.

Jessica had ceased to be aware of those looks long ago; she knew only raging pain at this moment. Never! She would never allow Alicia to be Penny's mother.

The taxi-driver must have thought her very strange as she sat silently in the back of the car—especially as he had to accompany her to the door so that she could pay him!

‘Had a row with your hubby, have you?’ he said cheerfully, handing her the change. ‘Never mind, love, it happens to the best of us.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed jerkily. ‘I—Thank you.’

‘ ’Night, love,’ and he whistled tunelessly as he returned to his taxi.

Peg was frowning when Jessica joined her in the lounge. Penny was asleep on the sofa, her mischievous face angelic. ‘Have you?’ she asked softly so as not to wake the child. ‘Argued with Andrew, I mean?’

She shrugged, having eyes only for Penny. ‘I'll get her up to bed now,’ she bent to lift her daughter into her arms, the small blonde head resting trustingly on her shoulder as she carried her up the stairs.

‘I tried myself a couple of times,’ Peg told her softly, following to fold back the bedclothes. ‘She began to wake up each time I touched her.’

‘I know,’ Jessica nodded, smoothing her daughter's hair back on the pillow and tucking the bedclothes about her. ‘She always does with anyone but me.’ Her eyes filled with tears as she looked down at her daughter.

Peg frowned as she followed her out of the room. ‘Is there anything I can do, Jessica?’

‘No.’ She blinked back the tears, leaving the night-light on in Penny's room as she closed the bedroom door.

‘But you have argued with Andrew?’ Peg persisted.

‘Yes,’ she sighed, ‘you could say that.’ She chewed on her bottom lip. ‘He—he wants a divorce.’

‘He what?’

‘A divorce.’ They were back in the lounge now, the tears at last spilling down on to her cheeks. ‘Andrew wants a divorce,’ she repeated brokenly, her face buried in her hands.

‘He wants one?’ Peg gasped disbelievingly, sitting down to put her arms about the sobbing Jessica. ‘After the abuse you take from him …! Well, don't worry, love,’ she said angrily. ‘George and I will take care of you—and Penny, of course.’

Penny. Dear God, Penny! Jessica sat up suddenly, knowing what she had to do. I'm going away, Peg. Tonight. I——’

‘You can't go this time of night!’ Her friend was scandalised. ‘Come next door and stay with George and me for a few days, until Andrew comes to his senses.’

Next door! ‘No, I have to get away,’ Jessica insisted, standing up. ‘I have to go somewhere Andrew can't find us.’

‘Maybe he had just had too much to drink,’ Peg encouraged. ‘He'll probably have forgotten all about it by the time he comes home.’

‘He isn't coming home—at least, not tonight,’ Jessica said bitterly, and she knew that when he did he wouldn't have changed his mind. Andrew was determined this time.

‘But where is he—Oh,’ Peg blushed, realisation dawning. ‘At least leave it until the morning, love. If he isn't coming back tonight there's no rush, is there?’

‘No,’ Jessica acknowledged slowly.

‘Sleep on it, Jessica,’ her friend suggested. ‘You can't just go off into the night.’

No, she couldn't. She had until morning to make her plans properly, find somewhere to stay where Andrew couldn't find them. Besides, it would disturb Penny to wake her now, would frighten her. Things were going to be traumatic enough without Penny becoming upset.

‘You're right,’ she told Peg. ‘I'll leave in the morning.’

‘I'm sure you won't need to do that,’ Peg patted her hand comfortingly. ‘Once Andrew thinks this over, about how much you love him, I'm sure he'll change his mind about the divorce.’

How much she loved him …! She might have loved Andrew once, in fact she knew she had, but she certainly didn't love him now. Her love had been that of an adolescent who needed someone to care for her, and she soon realised the disillusionment of that.

‘Maybe,’ she agreed with Peg, knowing that it wasn't true. She had known it would end one day, had dreaded it, and she knew without question that this was it. Andrew might change his mind, given time, he had done it in the past often enough, but Alicia wouldn't. She was determined to get Andrew, and Jessica doubted the other woman was denied much that she wanted.

‘I'm sure I'm right,’ Peg encouraged.

‘Yes, of course you are.’ Jessica gave a bright smile, hating having to deceive her friend, but knowing that not even to Peg could she tell the truth. ‘You go on home now, George will be getting worried.’

‘Are you sure …?’

‘Of course,’ Jessica nodded.

‘You'll be all right?’

‘Yes,’ she smiled.

‘Well … All right, then. But don't hesitate to call if you need anything,’ Peg offered.

‘I won't,’ Jessica assured her friend.

She spent the next hour packing her own and Penny's things. It was amazing how much had been accumulated, not so much by her, but by Penny, all of her daughter's toys suddenly seeming necessary.

She had called a quiet unobtrusive hotel in London and booked a room for Penny and herself, knowing she would have to get well away from this small eastern town. London seemed the only choice. It was big and impersonal, the place where thousands of people went missing each year. Andrew couldn't possibly find them there.

But he would look for them, she knew that. Whenever the divorce threats came up he always warned her that any move to take Penny away from him would be met by opposition. Not that he spent a great deal of time with their daughter, he just wasn't going to let Jessica have her.

She jumped nervously as the front doorbell rang a little after twelve, wondering who it could be. It couldn't be Andrew, he had his own key. Unless he had forgotten it …!

She frantically hid the suitcases and bag in her bedroom before running down the stairs to answer the door, still wearing her evening dress. If it was Andrew he was already impatient, the doorbell ringing for a third time before she managed to open the door, looking up breathlessly at the man who stood there.

‘Mr Sinclair!’ she gasped dazedly.

Matthew Sinclair looked at her with dark tawny eyes, his face white and haggard, his hair golden. ‘I didn't get you out of bed …?’ His voice was husky.

She looked pointedly down at the blue dress. ‘No,’ she confirmed softly. ‘Is there anything I can do to help you, Mr Sinclair?’

He seemed at a loss for words, swallowing convulsively. ‘I—I think we should both sit down,’ he said at length. ‘Could we perhaps——’

‘Andrew?’ she queried sharply, sensing something disastrous here, dismissing the idea that Matthew Sinclair had come here to carry on his flirtation. He would never be so nervous about that, and he was nervous, extremely so. ‘Has something happened to Andrew?’ her voice rose sharply.

‘Jessica——’ His eyes were full of compassion.

‘Tell me!’ She clutched on to his arm, searching his pale features for what he seemed unable to tell her. ‘I—Is he—Is Andrew——’

‘He's dead, Jessica,’ Matthew told her in a pained voice. ‘I don't know how else to tell you! There was an accident, and——’

She didn't hear any more; she fell slowly to the ground with a gentle thud.