Читать книгу A Bad Enemy - Сара Крейвен, Sara Craven - Страница 7

THERE was a long screaming silence.

At last, Lisle said huskily, ‘You—cannot be serious.’

Jake Allard said with a kind of weary impatience, ‘Is it likely I’d be joking—about such a thing—and at a time like this?’

She looked at him blankly. ‘But Murray couldn’t—he wouldn’t. …’

‘Wrong on both counts, I’m afraid.’ The grey eyes flickered over her, then still holding her arm Jake began to propel her towards some of the tan leather benches, placed back to back in the main reception area. He said abruptly, ‘Sit down. I’m going to phone up to the unit and see if they’re ready for us.’

Lisle was thankful to feel the solid support of the bench under her. Her mouth was dry and she was shaking from head to foot. She found herself thinking with sudden mocking clarity that if she collapsed, at least it would be in the right place. She placed her folded hands on her knees, and sat staring at them, noticing almost detachedly the white knuckles, the strained grip of the slender fingers. She felt shattered. Incapable of assimilating what Jake had said, or rationalising it.

It seemed a very long time before Jake came back, but she knew that in reality it was only a few minutes. She looked up at his dark face, mentally bracing herself for more bad news, more shocks, but his cool, guarded expression gave nothing away.

‘Sister says fifteen minutes. We’ll go to the cafeteria and wait there.’

She didn’t even think of protesting. She went with him across the foyer to the lifts. An elderly man holding a bunch of flowers, a youth, barely out of his teens by the look of him, with his arm tenderly round the shoulders of a massively pregnant girl were already waiting. As the lift began its upward journey, Lisle found her gaze straying constantly to the young couple. The girl’s left hand with its wide golden band lay protectively over her distended abdomen, and although she was clearly nervous, she was smiling up at her husband, her eyes bright with excitement and happiness.

Marriage, Lisle thought numbly, the ultimate partnership. Sharing a life, sharing a bed, conceiving a child in mutual passion, caring for it together ….

She glanced at Jake and found him watching her with such irony that her face was flooded with sudden, burning colour.

The cafeteria was a dazzle of bright lights, stainless steel, and red formica-topped tables with matching plastic seats. The coffee was surprisingly good and came in thick white institutional cups. Lisle refused anything to eat, but Jake bought a round of cheese sandwiches and ate them with every evidence of enjoyment. When he had finished, he pushed the plate away and looked at her.

‘For God’s sake stop staring at me as if you expect to be leapt upon at any moment,’ he said. ‘I promise you nothing could be further from my mind.’

‘I wasn’t!’ Lisle denied indignantly. ‘But you can’t expect to—to spring things on me like that and expect me to take it in my stride.’

‘I suppose not.’ He gave her a long, considering glance. ‘Well, Miss Bannerman, I think we’d better talk—or may I call you Lisle, seeing that we’re practically engaged.’

‘We are not engaged!’ Lisle returned her cup to its saucer with a bang that even put that sturdy china at risk. ‘I’d rather die!’

‘Death before dishonour?’ The firm lips curved in frank amusement. ‘That’s a curiously old-fashioned viewpoint.’

‘I don’t give a damn how old-fashioned it is,’ she said shortly. ‘Arranged marriages aren’t exactly eighties-style either.’

‘I don’t think the Asian community among us would necessarily agree with you.’ Jake’s tone was deceptively mild. ‘And they have our galloping divorce rate to back them up too. But that’s by the way—what I really want to get across to you is that you’re not to give Murray a blow-by-blow account of your true opinion of me, my manners, morals or anything else which occurs to you. This scheme of his to marry us to each other is dear to his heart, and you’re not going to upset him by dismissing it out of hand.’

Lisle sat up very straight on the uncomfortable plastic chair. ‘You’re not suggesting that I should—go along with it?’

‘Why not?’ He gave her a level look. ‘I’m prepared to—and I have just as little taste for you as you have for me, darling. But although you probably don’t know it, Murray and I go a long way back. He was good to me when I was starting up, and gave me a lot of help and advice. I owe him, in other words, and I think you do too, lady, if your expensive flat, your pretty clothes and your sinecure at Harlow Bannerman are anything to go by, not to mention the unlimited expense account you and your brother have been running.’

‘You have been busy,’ Lisle commented, a bright spot of colour in each cheek.

The grey eyes hardened with contempt. ‘It’s time someone was, sweetheart, otherwise your private gravy train could come off the rails for good. Your grandfather has decided I’m the right man for the job, and my appointment as managing director will be confirmed by the board early next week.’

‘Not if Gerard and I have anything to do with it,’ she said furiously.

‘Gerard will find himself isolated,’ he said curtly. ‘Perhaps you’ve forgotten that your voting shares in the company are under your grandfather’s control until you’re twenty-five, and he’s already signed a proxy supporting my appointment.’ He paused, then added with heavy emphasis, ‘And he’s selling me his own block of shares, so I won’t just be running the company, trying to get it back on its feet again, I’ll be controlling it too.’

Lisle drew a deep uneven breath. ‘You—you took advantage of a sick old man. …’

He gave a derisive laugh. ‘You’d better not let Murray hear you say that. He was in top form when he made our deal, and if you don’t believe me ask Oliver Grayson.’

‘That—Judas?’

He shrugged. ‘On the contrary, I found him a good man. I think we’re going to work well together.’

Lisle gripped the edge of the table, fighting for self-control. ‘I don’t believe a word of this. Grandfather would never sell his shares to you. He’s always been adamant that they should remain in the family.’

And as far as he’s concerned, they will,’ he said calmly. ‘But through his granddaughter and her husband, rather than his grandson as he’d intended. Gerard’s unfailing record of unreliability and self-interest has caught up with him at last, I’m afraid. He knew that I was moving in, and he could have stayed and fought for his place in the sun. But no. As soon as he thought the danger was averted, he just cleared out, and that kind of failure in judgment can be fatal when you’re trying to run a company in times like these.’

Lisle sat as if she had been turned to stone.

‘Of course,’ Jake went on, ‘you might have been able to warn him, if you’d shown your face in the office for the past ten days, but your attendance record is one of the poorest I’ve seen. Your department head is loyal to the Bannerman name. He said you were working on a promotion for the Salzburg Fair at home, but he didn’t speak with any real conviction. I suppose the poor guy has never dared tell you that real public relations work isn’t merely acting as some kind of high class call-girl at your brother’s behest.’

She said hoarsely, ‘You—bastard! How dare you. …’

‘I dare more than that,’ he said flatly. ‘I might not even complain if it had all paid off—if the intimate dinners for potential customers, the drunken thrashes at your flat, the weekends on the boat had produced a full order book. But even you must know that’s not the case. And yet you’ve a lovely face, and an enticing body, so what went wrong? Perhaps your heart wasn’t in your work.’

Lisle felt sick with rage and shame. That he, or anyone else, could think such things made her feel utterly degraded, even though there was no reason for it. She’d never been overwhelmed with enthusiasm for acting as Gerard’s hostess, but she played the role he had chosen for her to the best of her ability, learning to recognise the gleam in the eye which suggested that one of the guests might be getting the wrong idea, and distance herself with charm yet finality, because it was Harlow Bannerman she was selling, and not, under any circumstances, herself.

Yes, she had allowed Gerard to use the flat for parties, but then as Harlow Bannerman were subsidising the rent, she had felt she could hardly refuse. But she had attended few of them herself, usually spending the night with friends. And since Janie had moved in with her, she had been able to use that as an excuse for Gerard to go elsewhere, because there had been disturbing indications that some of the entertainments he gave were by no means as conventional or innocent as he claimed.

Gerard had often laughed at her, complaining that she was a prude, and perhaps she was. Uneasily she recalled again the slapped face incident, and his subsequent fury, and there had been other occasions when his attitude had switched from amusement to exasperation, when he had exerted none too subtle pressure on her to ‘relax’, to be ‘nicer’ to certain clients. At times they had come close to quarrelling about it, but not seriously, because she couldn’t believe that he meant it seriously.

But now suddenly she was no longer so sure. The fact that her own motives and behaviour had been so totally misunderstood was making her question Gerard’s for the first time, and shed a new and disturbing light on his half grumbling, half amused accusations of prudishness.

She swallowed, steadying her hurried breathing. ‘You have no right to say these things to me! What do you imagine my grandfather would think if he could hear you?’

‘Murray hasn’t been living in a vacuum for the past year or two,’ he said. ‘I don’t think he suffers from many illusions, even about you. Love isn’t always blind, you know. He probably wants to get you married off before some real disaster occurs. And as our paths hadn’t crossed, I expect he hoped I wouldn’t have heard of the reputation you were so busily garnering for yourself.’

Reputation, Lisle thought. If it wasn’t so appalling, it would be almost funny. Because Gerard’s accusations weren’t so far from the truth. She couldn’t explain it. It might be some kind of mental revulsion against her brother’s inveterate womanising, it might be that she had never met a man who appealed to her sufficiently, or even because of some basic unsuspected flaw deep within her personality, but she was still, at twenty-three, a virgin.

The coffee was cold now, and bitter, but even so she doubted if she could have lifted the cup without betraying how she was shaking. Jake was watching her closely—waiting for a confession, or some attempt at self-justification, she wondered furiously. Well, he’d wait for ever! she told herself, avoiding his intent gaze.

He said coolly, ‘It’s time we were going up to the ward. Sister was noncommittal but not particularly optimistic when I spoke to her, but he’s conscious, and when he sees us together there’ll be just one thing on his mind. Can I take it as read that you won’t contradict me if I tell him we’ve just become engaged?’

She moistened dry lips. ‘Will he believe it—as we’ve only just met?’

He shrugged one shoulder. ‘If we were trying to convince him it was a love match, probably not. But as all three of us know the score, I think it will be a great relief to him that we’re not wasting any time.’

‘That’s putting it mildly.’ Lisle threaded the strap of her bag through her fingers. She managed an unsteady laugh. ‘Just what am I being rushed into?’

‘Well, certainly not marriage,’ he drawled. ‘I have no plans in that direction, and if I had they wouldn’t include you, my dear Miss Bannerman. This is a pretence engagement, the sole purpose of which is to put your grandfather’s mind at rest and reassure him about your future when he’s no longer here to worry about you. So don’t indulge in any fantasies that I’ve been swept away by your undoubted charms.’ He stood up, and once again she was made unwillingly aware of his height, and the sheer domination of his personality. She had met a lot of successful men, but few of them had an iota of his undoubted physical attraction, and most of them by his age—mid-thirties, she judged— were already married and settled with families.

She walked silently beside him towards the lift, and still in silence rode up to the next floor where the intensive care unit was established.

It was like something out of a space odyssey, she thought uneasily, looking around her.

Sister in her sexless white gown was briskly reassuring. ‘He’s doing as well as can be expected, that’s all I can say,’ she told them in her office. She gave a rich chuckle. ‘He’s certainly a bonny fighter, but he’s been getting himself dangerously over-excited. He’s been giving my young nurses hell because they wouldn’t bring him a telephone trolley—the very idea! I had to speak severely to him,’ she added tranquilly.

Lisle managed a wavering smile in return. She was sitting in a chair facing Sister’s desk, and Jake was perched on the arm of it. She was acutely conscious of the warmth of his body near hers, and it had been all she could do not to draw away when he sat down so close to her.

Jake said calmly, ‘I hope the good news we have for him won’t have an adverse effect.’

‘Anything that will stop him worrying so much can only do good.’ Sister paused. ‘Am I to take it that congratulations are in order?’

With a shock, Lisle felt Jake’s hand cover hers, then lift it to his lips. It was only the briefest caress, but her flesh felt as if it had been seared with a brand.

‘You’ve guessed our secret, Sister,’ Jake said softly. He looked down into Lisle’s startled face, his lips smiling tenderly, but his grey eyes brilliant with mockery. ‘As we’re making no announcement yet, darling, we’re going to have to try and hide our feelings for each other, at least in public.’

Through frozen lips, she managed, ‘Yes.’

He bent towards her, and for one paralysed moment she thought he was going to kiss her on the mouth, and every nerve in her body reacted in tension. His touch on her hand had been ordeal enough, but to feel his lips on hers, caressing, exploring, parting, would be unendurable.

And he knew that quite well. Still holding her panic-stricken gaze with his, he drew back, his smile hardening sardonically. ‘Shall we go and see Murray, my sweet?’

Sister bustled out and they were left to follow.

Lisle’s lips moved. ‘I don’t think I can go through with this.’

Jake rose. ‘Oh yes, you bloody well can.’ He took her arms, hauling her bodily out of her seat. ‘Everyone is capable of one selfless act, and this is going to be yours. Murray is going to rest with a tranquil mind tonight because he knows that what he cares most about in the world—Harlow Bannerman and you—are both in safe hands. So smile, darling. Pretend I’m an important customer or that poor devil who was pawing you when I arrived at the flat.’

She said dazedly, ‘Who. …?’ and saw the contempt flare again in his face.

He said half under his breath, ‘No, I suppose you can’t even remember his name. God help any guy who falls hard for you, you little bitch. Now look happy, and remember it’s not for me, it’s for Murray.’

But she was hard put to it to retain any semblance of cheerfulness when she stood by her grandfather’s bed. She had never really understood what people meant when they talked about shadows of their former selves, but she knew now, because what seemed to be lying there was just a shadow of the man she loved. She sank her teeth into the softness of her inner lip as Murray Bannerman muttered something and opened his eyes. They had always been fiercely, intensely blue, but now that fire seemed muted, and his voice no more than a gruff whisper.

‘Darling girl—so you came. And Jake. That’s good. Good.’

She was amazed to hear how normal her voice sounded. ‘Of course we’re here. Don’t try to talk. Everything’s going to be fine.’

‘Fine,’ he repeated, and the faded eyes sought hers in a kind of entreaty. ‘You and Jake.’

‘Yes,’ she said, her tone firming. ‘He—he spoke to me about it, and although it was—rather a shock, I can see it would be best—for the company and for everyone, so I’ve agreed. I will marry him.’

The moment she’d spoken, she wished she hadn’t used those particular words. At this moment, and in the presence of a man who could be dying, they savoured too closely of some kind of oath, the precursor to some future ritual where she and Jake would be made one, and she shivered suddenly.

Jake said, ‘I’m going to take her away now, Murray, take her home, and let you get some rest. But we’ll be back in the morning. Sleep well.’

Lisle felt the pressure of his hand on her arm, and turned away, fighting sudden blinding tears. He looked so frail, she thought in agony. What guarantee was there that he would see another morning, or know that they would return to share it with him?

She knew Jake was watching her, his dark brows drawn together in a frown of genuine concern, and as they walked to the lift, she fought a superhuman battle for control of her emotions and won. She hated him. She wanted nothing from him, especially his compassion.

They reached the ground floor and the doors opened silently, Jake standing aside to allow her to precede him.

Lisle said rapidly, ‘There’s a public telephone over there. Would you mind calling me a taxi, please.’

‘There’s no need for that,’ he said brusquely. ‘You’re coming with me.’

‘Oh, please!’ Just for a moment her tone veered towards slight hysteria. ‘How far do we have to carry this farce? Grandfather can’t see us now, or know that we’ve gone our separate ways.’

His brows lifted. ‘I was looking at the situation rather more practically. As we’re both going to the Priory, one vehicle is surely quite sufficient.’

She looked at him stupidly, his words registering in some distant recess of her mind. ‘You—you’re staying at the Priory?’

‘I told you I was staying there,’ he said impatiently.

‘I’d forgotten.’ She gave herself a mental shake. ‘Not that it matters. I can go to a hotel.’

‘Like hell you can,’ he said grimly. ‘The Petersons are expecting you, and your old room has been prepared. What am I to tell them if you don’t turn up? That your aversion to me is so great you can’t face spending a night or two under the same roof?’

‘You’re the one with the instant solutions to everyone’s problems,’ she shot at him. ‘You think of something.’

‘I already have,’ he returned. ‘You’re coming to the Priory with me, if it means I have to kick your charming backside every step of the way to the car.’

Lisle was going to say, ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ but the words shrivelled in her throat as she realised there was very little if anything that Jake Allard wouldn’t dare.

‘Very wise,’ he approved sardonically, reading her sudden silence with perfect accuracy. ‘What a tragedy you weren’t the man of the family. You have an infinitely better nose for danger than Gerard has. Now come on. Mrs Peterson promised she’d have supper waiting for us whatever time we got there.’

‘Oh, I’m sure she’s had her orders,’ Lisle said scornfully. ‘But don’t you think you’re being a little premature—coming on like the master of all you survey? You’re not in the driving seat yet.’

‘Perhaps not,’ he said silkily. ‘But when I am, my copper-haired vixen, you’re going to be the first one to know.’

Lisle tossed her head angrily, and giving him a look in which frustrated rebellion and sheer venom were mixed about equally, went ahead of him into the darkness.

The Priory was only a few miles’ drive away, and as the car drew up on the gravelled sweep in front of the house, Lisle could see the massive double doors already opening to reveal Mrs Peterson’s anxious figure in the stream of light from the hall.

‘Oh, Miss Lisle!’ Mrs Peterson’s arms clasped her to her ample bosom. ‘What a homecoming for you, my dear! But he’ll get over it, don’t you fret. He’ll see us all out, I shouldn’t wonder.’

Lisle smiled faintly as she kissed the plump cheek. ‘Sister says he’s a bonny fighter, Petey.’

‘Hasn’t he always been?’ Mrs Peterson smiled at Jake. ‘Good evening, sir, and thank you for bringing her. I’ve laid supper in the small dining room—it’s cosier for two. I’ll go and see to the soup while Peterson takes Miss Lisle’s case up to her room.’

Lisle had been about to intervene, and say she couldn’t eat a thing and would prefer to go straight to her room, but at the mention of soup, hunger betrayed her. She knew Petey’s soups of old, made from bone and marrow stock and thick with fresh vegetables. Even Jake’s presence across the table couldn’t take the edge off such delights, she thought, realising how empty she was. No wonder, really. All she’d consumed since a light lunch had been a gin and tonic, a few canapés, and a cup of coffee at the hospital.

She washed and tidied her hair in the downstairs cloakroom, but left her face innocent of make-up. The last thing she wanted was Jake Allard to think she was employing any deliberate arts to attract him.

When she went into the drawing room, he was standing in front of the log fire, whisky and soda in hand. He said, ‘May I get you something?’

‘The perfect host,’ she said on a jeering note. ‘No, thanks.’ Alcohol might help her to relax, she thought, but it was more important to keep all her wits about her.

He said, ‘You have a very beautiful home.’

‘Indeed I have,’ she agreed. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t persuaded Grandfather to sell it to you, along with everything else.’

Jake looked amused. ‘I still might.’

‘No, you won’t,’ she said with satisfaction. ‘The Priory comes to me in Grandfather’s will. Gerard gets his collection of pictures, the London flat and half the money. He showed us both when he drew the will up a few years ago.’

His brows rose in mocking acknowledgment. ‘Very businesslike. And how reassuring to know exactly where you stand.’

‘Indeed it is.’ Lisle drew a deep breath. ‘And I hope I don’t have to inherit for at least ten years, if not twenty.’

The mockery was wiped away. He said soberly, ‘I wouldn’t count on it, Lisle.’

‘Don’t say that.’ She shook her head in violent negation.

‘Like you, I hope he lives for ever,’ he said quietly. ‘But we need to be realistic.’

She didn’t want realism. She wanted the comfort and reassurance that her grandfather had represented since she was a small child. Without him, she thought confusedly, she would be totally bereft. If the worst did happen, she would leave London and come to live here in the house she loved. Her inheritance should ensure an adequate income, and she could live within it as long as she wasn’t extravagant. She wouldn’t really regret the loss of her job in the public relations department at Harlow Bannerman. She hadn’t been a roaring success there, although she’d often felt she might have been if she’d only been given a chance. But nothing exacting, nothing that might stretch her mind and get the best out of her had ever come her way. The Bannerman name had always been there like a barrier. They had treated her like an unpredictable toddler, treading warily round her, and feeding her the odd unimportant sweet to keep her quiet. They had written her off as useless before she had even got there, she thought resentfully, and no one had ever bothered to discover what her capabilities were since.

She thought, without surprise, that it was probably from the PR department that the rumours about her sexual favours to customers had first emanated. She couldn’t pretend that she was the flavour of the month with many of her colleagues. In fact, she heard herself described as ‘Lady Muck’ on more than one occasion when they thought she was out of the way. At the time, it had hurt, but she had made herself laugh it off. She was Lisle Bannerman, and nothing they could say could touch her.

Only now she knew differently. Mud had been thrown, and some of it had stuck as it had a habit of doing. The kind of things which had been said about her, the kind of implications which had been drawn from her behaviour made her feel unclean, and the thought that some of these vile rumours had found their way back to her grandfather and distressed him was intolerable. Yet he had never uttered one word of warning or reproach, she thought numbly.

Mrs Peterson’s soup was everything she had remembered and more, and the cold roast chicken which followed was accompanied by a salad made infinitely more exciting by a selection of exotic ingredients. Jake asked for cheese to follow, but Lisle succumbed to the blatant temptation of a slice of home-made treacle tart, accompanied by thickly whipped cream.

Afterwards, Mrs Peterson deposited a tray of coffee in the drawing room and wished them goodnight.

Lisle poured the coffee, conscious of a feeling of awkwardness. Supper had been easier than she anticipated, with Mrs Peterson bustling in and out, making sure they were enjoying their food, and that they had everything they needed.

But now they had been left almost pointedly alone, and it made Lisle uneasy.

Jake on the other hand looked perfectly at ease. He had removed his jacket and slung it over the back of the big leather chesterfield and loosened his tie, and now he was leaning back, waiting for his coffee.

She handed him his cup, almost slopping it into the saucer in her haste, then got up to add another log to the already adequate fire, and fussily adjust one of the ornaments on the mantelpiece.

Jake gave her a bored look. ‘Relax, for God’s sake,’ he told her. ‘Rape is not imminent.’

‘I never imagined it was,’ she snapped, re-seating herself behind the coffee tray, and adding cream to her own cup.

Jake grinned suddenly. It made him look younger, and even more attractive, and Lisle decided she preferred him scowling. ‘Then you should have,’ he said. ‘After all, we have the perfect set-up—a flickering fire, a beautiful girl, and damn all on television.’

In spite of loathing him, she felt her lips quiver. ‘Aren’t you the flatterer!’

‘Not usually,’ he said. He drank his coffee, and set the cup down on a table near his seat with a deliberation that she found slightly unnerving. He looked at her, and she thought confusedly that the lamplight had softened the colour of his eyes to silver. He held out his hand, and his voice was very gentle suddenly. ‘Come here.’

And the shattering thing was that it would have been the easiest thing in the world to have got out of that chair and gone to him. It was unbelievable that she could feel that way, but she did. He was her enemy, and she hated him. He had insulted her and outraged all her feelings ever since he had walked into her life, and yet she remembered the way his mouth had scorched her hand, and knew that, in his arms, her whole body could turn to living flame.

And remembered too, just in time, that he thought she was the worst kind of tramp.

She said huskily, ‘I’ll see you in hell first.’

‘Heaven might be more enjoyable,’ he suggested, but she could hear the cynical note. He thought she was just playing hard to get, and that sooner rather than later she would let him make love to her.

She rose to her feet with a faint smile. ‘Heaven?’ she queried. ‘Now you’re flattering yourself, Mr Allard. I’ll leave you to your fantasies, and go to bed. Alone.’

‘What a waste,’ he said softly. ‘You wouldn’t be disappointed. I’m sure my performance would reach the standard you’ve come to expect.’

‘A personal guarantee,’ she marvelled. ‘Now there’s a novelty! But I’m still not tempted. Goodnight.’

‘One thing I would guarantee.’ His voice was silky. ‘That—come the dawn—at least you’d remember my bloody name. There’s another novelty.’

Lisle, walked to the door, nerves jumping at every step, in case he came after her. Because in spite of everything that had happened, she wasn’t sure how she would react if he touched her, seriously wanted her. She hoped she would kick and bite and scratch to be free, behave like the vixen he’d called her, but she wasn’t issuing any guarantees at all, and she knew she wouldn’t feel safe until she was safely up in her room behind a door which, for the first time in her life, she would lock.