Читать книгу Power Games - Пенни Джордан, PENNY JORDAN - Страница 11

‘I’m sorry. I must be boring you.’ Bram smiled across the table at Taylor. ‘I do tend to get a bit carried away about this project.’

‘It’s a very challenging project to take on,’ Taylor agreed as she forked up another delicious mouthful of carbonara.

She wasn’t quite sure what she had expected from the restaurant. A certain degree of up-market exclusivity, a sense of being a little out of place? But she had been totally wrong on both counts. The restaurant was comfortable rather than elegant, and very obviously family owned and run. The glorious taste of the food had instantly transported her back to the last holiday she, her parents and her sister had shared before everything had started to go wrong.

Tuscany had been relatively undiscovered then, and her teenager’s developing mind and senses had eagerly absorbed the new experiences the holiday had brought.

She could still remember the hot dry scent of the countryside; her delight in its medieval towns, in history brought sharply into focus. The reality of it was so clear that she’d had only to close her eyes to imagine she was back in the days of the Borgias when Italy had been at the height of its political and financial powers.

And then there had been the food.

Hastily she brought herself back to the present, watching Bram’s expression as he responded to her comment.

‘Yes, I know. Jay feels we should be concentrating on expansion and not—’ Bram broke off. ‘He and I are going through a difficult patch at the moment. Our relationship has never been an easy one, which is more my fault than his.’

As he looked directly at her, Taylor tried to mask her curiosity, but it was too late; he had seen it.

‘I was fourteen when Jay was conceived,’ he told her. ‘It was the result of…well, let’s just say it wasn’t exactly planned or wanted by either his mother or myself. And as far as I’m concerned, no child should have to grow up knowing that he wasn’t wanted.’

‘Fourteen!’ Taylor protested, trying and failing to master her shock.

‘Yes. I agree. Not an ideal age to become a father,’ Bram conceded. ‘Not for me and certainly not for Jay….’

‘Fourteen,’ Taylor repeated, her food forgotten as she tried to remember herself at that age, tried to imagine how she might have felt at the thought of becoming a mother.

‘You must have been…’

‘What?’ Bram asked her grimly, without allowing her to finish. ‘Oversexed? A coercive bully?’ He shook his head. ‘No, I wasn’t either. It wasn’t like that. The whole thing was quite literally an accident, in every sense of the word…. Jay’s mother was the daughter of our neighbours. We’d grown up together, so to speak. She was older than I was, sixteen to my fourteen. She’d been dating someone, another boy. I didn’t know him, but they’d had a quarrel and she turned to me for…for a shoulder to cry on and…consolation. Only things got slightly out of hand. Neither of us ever intended—it was the first time for me and I remember feeling afterwards rather bewildered and let down, wondering what all the fuss was about.

‘I was at an all-boys school, and of course there’d been the usual bragging and young male bravado. The most I’d ever experienced before was a rather clumsy attempt to kiss a girl at a party, but Tara—’ he paused, looking away from Taylor abruptly ‘—her parents were very strict. Too strict, according to mine, and of course in the time-honoured way of young girls she’d rebelled against them. Her boyfriend, the one she’d quarrelled with, was someone her parents didn’t approve of. They’d already forbidden her to go on seeing him, but I doubt they had any idea just how far the relationship had gone.

‘I must admit to being slightly shocked when Tara told me. There was no one else for her to confide in, I suppose. Like me she was at boarding school without any close girlfriends locally to talk to.’

‘When she saw how shocked I was she teased me about it. Asked me if I’d done it yet…forced me to confess that I hadn’t. She’d always enjoyed teasing me. I can remember how embarrassed I felt, especially when she started boasting to me about her boyfriend’s physical attributes.

‘I suppose that was what did it really. The need to prove myself, as it were. I doubt, originally, that she’d intended it to go any further than a piece of playful teasing. She could see how my body had reacted to what she was saying, and when she reached for my zip, I doubt she’d got anything more in mind than making fun of me for my excitement.

‘However, as I said, one thing led to another, and without either of us really intending it to happen, we became lovers….’

Bram’s mouth twisted slightly. ‘Lovers. In reality that was the last thing we were. In reality Jay’s conception was a pathetic, clumsy, mismanaged thing that even now I’m surprised it actually resulted in a child…. I really didn’t have much of a clue of what to do, and Tara, for all her boasting, wasn’t all that much more experienced.

‘I went back to school shortly afterwards. When my parents turned up unexpectedly to visit five months later, the last thing I was expecting to hear was that Tara was pregnant with my child.

‘I think that up until then they had been unwilling to believe it, but one look at my face must have betrayed my guilt.

‘Of course, there was no question of us marrying, nor indeed of there being a termination. It was much too late for that.

‘My parents offered to adopt the baby, but her parents refused. However, the only way her father would allow her to keep her child was if she promised never to see me again, and if I promised never to attempt to see my child. They said that I’d done enough, caused enough misery to their daughter and to them—’

‘They blamed you?’ Taylor interjected, unable to hold back the question or conceal her disbelief.

‘I was to blame,’ Bram told her. ‘Jay was…is my son…. I didn’t know then that my agreement would lead Jay to believe that I had refused to acknowledge him, or that his grandparents were going to use the circumstances of his birth to make him feel—’ Bram shook his head ‘—I’m sorry, I must be boring you.’

‘No. No, you aren’t,’ Taylor told him honestly. It was something totally outside her previous experience, to have a man be so totally open with her. Her father had always somehow distanced himself from both her and her sister, and the only other man she had really been close to… She closed her eyes, trying hard to resist the memories lurking in the shadows of her mind, waiting to stalk and terrify her as once…

‘Sir Anthony told me that you had brought your son up alone, but I hadn’t realised. You must be very close to each other.’

As she saw the way his expression changed, Taylor knew she had hit a nerve. Unexpectedly, instead of feeling triumph that she had found some vulnerability in a man who, in all other respects, had seemed to her to be totally invulnerable, what she actually felt was an unfamiliar sense of sympathy.

‘In some ways, yes,’ Bram agreed. ‘In others…’ He paused and looked across the table. It was unlike him to talk so openly about himself on such a very short acquaintance.

He had never been someone who felt it necessary to conceal certain aspects of his personality or his life, withholding information to boost his own sense of power or control, but neither was he given to instant intimacy or confidence sharing.

‘Jay was six years old when he came to live with me. He had been brought up to believe that I didn’t want him, that I had rejected him. He was very, very insecure. He refused to believe that I did love him, that I wasn’t lying to him when I told him that he had no need to fear that I would abandon him. Subconsciously, I suspect, he blamed me for the unhappiness of his early years—with good reason. As a child he was very possessive about me…about our relationship.’

Again he stopped speaking. He rarely discussed his real feelings about Jay’s possessiveness towards him.

Possessive. Taylor shuddered openly as she silently repeated the word.

‘What’s wrong?’ Bram asked her, as she pushed her food away from her, her face suddenly pale and strained. ‘Don’t you like it? I can—’

‘No. No…I’m just not hungry any more,’ Taylor told him huskily. ‘That…that must have been very hard to deal with… your son being…possessive about you.’

Taylor knew she was walking on dangerous ground, but she seemed drawn compulsively to it, like a child knowingly taking the risk of walking on ice in spite of warnings that it was too thin, thrilling to the sense of danger the action brought, even while terrified by it.

‘It hasn’t always been easy,’ Bram allowed, but he was still frowning as he looked at her plate of half-eaten food. Taylor sensed that he was regretting having confided in her, and that he was deliberately trying to focus both his own and her attention in other directions.

Silently she gave in. After all, she knew well enough what it felt like not to want to talk…to explain…to feel threatened by another person’s curiosity and interest.

‘What about you?’ Bram asked her. ‘Your family—’

‘I don’t have one,’ Taylor told him quickly. ‘They’re all…my parents were killed in…in an accident when… some years ago….’

‘When you were at university,’ Bram hazarded, remembering what Anthony had told him about her leaving university.

The look of shock and fear on her face was so intense that it made Bram wonder what on earth he had said to cause it.

‘How…how did you know about that?’ she demanded hoarsely. ‘About my leaving university. How did you know when…when the accident happened.’

‘I didn’t,’ Bram told her, giving her a puzzled look. ‘I just guessed that it could have happened then, because Anthony mentioned that you left before getting your degree.’

‘I take it you were an only child. Their deaths must have been very painful for you.’ Her frozen intentness, her wary hostility marked such a dramatic change from her earlier manner when they had been discussing Jay that it caught Bram totally off guard. Why had his mentioning the fact that she had left university early caused such a dramatic reaction? Not surely simply because she felt embarrassed about not completing her degree.

While Bram tried to puzzle out what was wrong, Taylor had started to reach for her handbag. ‘I…I have to go,’ she told him when he looked at her. ‘I…’

‘But you haven’t finished your meal,’ Bram protested.

‘I…I’m not very hungry,’ he heard Taylor reply. ‘And besides, it’s…it’s getting dark and…’

Had she been another woman, a different woman, he might have been tempted to tease her a little about her reaction—an overreaction—but because he could sense how genuinely agitated and upset she was, Bram held his tongue.

‘Let me at least get you a taxi,’ he offered quietly. ‘As you say, it is getting dark. My fault, I’m afraid. I was enjoying the self-indulgence of talking about myself so much that I hadn’t realised the time. You’re a very good listener,’ he added warmly.

‘I…I really must go.’

She was avoiding looking directly at him, Bram recognised.

‘And…I prefer to use my own taxi firm, if you don’t mind. The drivers are all women…and…’

It was obvious to Bram that she didn’t like having to disclose even little pieces of personal information. But why? Did she feel that he would mock her, make fun of her for her obvious fear? Did she really think he was that kind of man, so crass and insensitive?

Of course, he could understand how any woman might feel wary of entrusting herself to an unknown man. You only had to listen to the news, read the papers….

But Taylor’s fear was more specific than that, he was sure of it. It wasn’t the tentative unknowing fear of a sexually naïve, inexperienced woman, the old-fashioned ‘spinster’ beloved of satirists of another age. No, Taylor’s fear was more specific, more acute than that.

‘Well, let me at least get the maître d’ to call the taxi firm for you,’ Bram suggested gently.

Reluctantly Taylor gave him the number. She knew that he was only trying to be kind…to be helpful; that with Bram, in Bram, she had nothing to fear. But old habits die hard and old fears even harder.

She had let her guard down much too far when she had been listening to him talking about his life. She had been unprepared for his question about the fact that she had left university with her course unfinished.

‘It must have been very hard for you, losing your parents like that,’ he was saying to her now as he walked with her towards the door. ‘I know how badly the deaths of his mother and grandparents affected Jay, although, of course, he was—’

‘Only a child, while I was practically an adult,’ Taylor supplied harshly for him.

‘None of us is ever so mature that we don’t suffer when we lose people we love,’ Bram contradicted her gently. ‘And if you had no other close family to turn to, to share your grief with, then—’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

Bram could hear the panic in her voice, feel it in her tense body as she stood by the door, scanning the traffic for her taxi, desperate to escape from him.

‘You might enjoy dwelling on the past,’ she added fiercely, ‘but I don’t. Nothing can change what happened. Nothing.’

She was perilously close to tears, Bram recognised in concern. He reached out his hand to touch her, to assure her that the last thing he had intended to do was to upset her, but she was already stepping away from him, exclaiming in patent relief, ‘My taxi’s here…I must go….’

A little later, as he made his own way home, Bram pondered on the events of the evening. He hadn’t been lying or exaggerating when he had said to Taylor that she was easy to talk to. She was. When she allowed herself to drop her guard and relax, there was something about her, an air of gentleness, of tranquillity, that invited confidences.

He only wished that he had been able to make her feel as secure and content in his company as he had felt in hers.

Careful, he warned himself. The pendulum that hung so delicately between his sexual desire for her and his emotions, was beginning to swing way, way too far into the emotional sector.

Desiring Taylor physically was something he could control and contain. Loving her…loving her? He started to frown. Now where had that idea…that word with all its connotations come from? He’d have to be a fool to go and let himself do something like loving Taylor. And he wasn’t that…was he?

‘Oh, no. Bram, come and take a look at this. Isn’t it the most garish display you’ve ever seen? Who on earth would ever want to plant anything like that?’ Helena demanded as she drew Bram’s attention to a brilliantly coloured, tightly planted bed of modern annuals.

‘It’s certainly rather colourful,’ Bram agreed mildly.

It had become an annual event, this visit of his and Helena’s to the Chelsea Flower Show, something they had done together ever since their first years as friends. Neither of Helena’s husbands had been interested in horticulture, unlike Bram, who had thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity his fen cottage garden had given him to have a vegetable and salad plot.

Neither the size of his London garden nor the size of his commitment to his business, permitted him that kind of self-indulgence any longer, but he still enjoyed his annual pilgrimage to the mecca, the Holy Grail as it were, of all things horticultural—although, unlike Helena, he chose not to slavishly follow the gardening fads touted by the more up-market papers and magazines.

He had seen gardens filled to the brim with clashing, brilliant colours which had pleased the eye and gladdened the soul in their own ways, just as much as a garden laid out on all the meticulous principles of planting and taste. It all depended upon how you looked at it, Bram mused. On whether one saw the miraculous bounty of a living, growing plant as just that, or felt and saw it as something that had to be rigidly selected and sited. Or whether it was simply nature’s design that filled one with pleasure, or one’s own.

However, he was far too kind to say as much to Helena, who seemed to take it as a personal insult if any of the exhibitors failed to meet her rigorous standards of what was and what was not good taste.

Bram watched her affectionately as she moved forward to examine one of the exhibits more closely, and then, out of the corner of his eye, a familiar face caught his attention. His voice warmed with pleasure and something else that made Helena turn her head and focus in surprise on him as he exclaimed, ‘Taylor!’ Then, ‘Excuse me a moment, would you, Helena, I’ve just seen someone I know.’

Following him as he made his way through the crowd to the tall, red-haired woman who was standing alone, transfixed almost, the expression in her eyes both guarded and anxious as she watched him, Helena started to frown as she realised that Bram’s quarry must be the woman Plum had described to her.

‘She’s far too old for Bram,’ Plum had protested, ‘and not at all pretty.’

Her daughter had been wrong on both counts, Helena recognised, although pretty was perhaps not the best word to describe Taylor. It didn’t do her justice, for one thing. She was beautiful, Helena thought, or rather she had the potential to be, and there was no doubt what Bram thought about her. His pleasure in seeing her was there for all to notice.

After two marriages and a friendship of more than twenty years, Helena had thought that she had finally grown out of her old infatuation with Bram. She had grown out of it, she told herself sternly. Bram was her friend, that was all, and if she did feel slightly wary, slightly suspicious and very cross about the woman he was now talking to, her feelings were merely those of a friend, a concerned and very old friend…that was all.

As she reached Bram’s side, Helena could hear him saying, ‘Look, since you’re obviously here on your own, why don’t you join us. Helena and I were just about to go and have a cup of coffee in the members’ enclosure, weren’t we, Helena?’

Loyally, Helena confirmed this statement, at the same time wondering why on earth Bram was having to work so hard to get the other woman to join them. Normally her sex was the one issuing invitations to Bram, not the other way around. But while she envied Taylor Bram’s obvious interest in her, at the same time she grudgingly approved of the other woman’s demeanour.

Whatever the relationship between them, it obviously wasn’t Taylor who had been pursuing Bram, Helena acknowledged, as Taylor fell reluctantly into step beside her. Beside her, Helena noticed, and not beside Bram.

‘I didn’t realise you were a gardener,’ Bram told Taylor, outmanoeuvring her tactic to avoid being too close to him by changing direction so that he could walk on the other side of her.

‘I’m not,’ Taylor responded shortly. ‘I just like looking….’

Visiting the show was one of her small, very special treats, an annual event she always looked forward to. As a flat dweller she had no garden, and her parents hadn’t been the type to encourage a small child’s enjoyment of growing things, disapproving of the disruption and mess it caused.

‘Which is your favourite stand?’ she heard Bram asking her, his voice taking on a teasing warmth as he coaxed. ‘Come on, it’s all right, you can tell us. I promise we won’t tell if you admit to a predilection for something that isn’t socially acceptable and fashionable.’

‘He’s only saying that because he loves the most appalling displays of overplanted annuals.’ Helena sniffed disparagingly.

‘While you won’t look at anything that isn’t filled with dank, dark topiary and insipid white flowers,’ Bram teased back.

‘I…I like the physic garden,’ Taylor heard herself admitting, ‘and…and the herbs…they’re so…so…’

‘So soothing and healing,’ Bram suggested gently for her.

Taylor gave him a wary look.

‘Yes. That’s part of it…but it’s also the fact that they’ve been grown and used for so many centuries. They’re timeless, eternal. When you think that people, civilisations, were cultivating and using them hundreds upon hundreds of years ago…’ She gave a small expressive shrug.

‘Come on, the members’ enclosure is just over here,’ Bram told them, turning towards Taylor and touching her lightly on the arm as he indicated the direction.

It was the briefest, the most fleeting of touches imaginable, but Helena could see how highly charged with physical and emotional tension it was—both Bram’s and Taylor’s. They weren’t already lovers, she decided intuitively, but if Bram had his way it wouldn’t be long before they were. And Taylor…did she reciprocate his feelings…his desire?

On the surface she might not seem to, but all that wary tension had to have some cause. And besides, what woman in her right mind would turn down a man like Bram?

Despite the fact that the enclosure was busy and full, Bram managed to find them a small table, disappearing in the direction of the bar once he was sure that they were both comfortable.

‘Have you known Bram long?’ Helena asked Taylor, once they were on their own. She wasn’t being inquisitive, she reassured herself. After all, Bram was one of her oldest friends. She had every right to feel protective of him, to want to make sure any new woman who entered his life knew how fortunate she was and appreciated what a very special man, a very special human being, Bram was.