Читать книгу Sharon Kendrick Collection - Шэрон Кендрик, Sharon Kendrick - Страница 38
ОглавлениеTHERE was silence in the garden for several minutes, although Romy quickly realised that the silence was not complete.
Firstly, there was the sound of Dominic’s breathing—ragged and uneven and then gradually approaching something resembling normality.
And her own.
She had grown breathless, too, and that had been why she had quickly rolled away from him, for she had correctly recognised her breathlessness as desire.
And surely giving in to desire would tip the scales in Dominic’s favour once more?
‘So what was that called?’ he asked eventually, his voice still sounding sweetly slurred with passion. ‘Revenge for having seduced you with equal ease in the lift that day, perhaps?’ he questioned sleepily. ‘Though if that’s revenge then I’m all in favour!’
His eyes were still closed, and there was a rueful half-smile on his face.
‘Revenge?’ she queried, trying her hardest to keep her voice calm.
‘Mmm. Did you cold-bloodedly decide to do to me what I had done to you?’ he murmured, and, turning onto his elbow, he caught her in the dazzling silver blaze of his eyes. ‘Was that your own particular power-trip, Romy—to have me helpless beneath those exquisitely skilful hands of yours?’
‘There was a bit of that,’ she admitted cautiously, because she had not intended to tell him anything. And yet somehow, when he looked at her like that, she found herself wanting to pour her heart out to him.
‘I see. And did it turn you on? To watch me peak in the middle of the garden in broad daylight, even though you knew that I had misgivings about it all along?’
Romy hid a smile. ‘Then you disguised your misgivings very well.’
He cursed softly beneath his breath. ‘Oh, the misgivings disappeared within seconds,’ he murmured. ‘Couldn’t you tell?’
‘Then they must have been extremely pathetic misgivings in the first place!’ she challenged, delighted when she heard his deep laugh ring out without inhibition.
‘Unimportant ones, certainly,’ he agreed. He shut his eyes and yawned luxuriously, and Romy blushed a deep pink as she allowed her dark eyes to secretly flick over him, realising with a sense of sudden, rather prudish shock that he was completely at ease with his partially clothed state. He didn’t seem at all bothered by the fact that he was lying there with his clothes all in disarray!
But Romy was. Hot and bothered.
She stood up quickly and smoothed her white dress down over her thighs.
‘Running away?’ he quizzed softly, and she saw that his eyes were not closed at all, but that he was surveying her coolly from between lush black lashes. ‘Just when it was beginning to get interesting, too. Shame on you, Romy—we really can’t keep on doing this to one another.’
‘I know,’ she agreed miserably.
Their eyes met in a long, candid stare and Romy realised with a shudder of horror just what sort of dreadful person she had become.
And she knew why, too.
It seemed that all her efforts to change and modify her behaviour had been doomed to failure from the word go—because underneath she was obviously no better than a clone of her shallow and promiscuous mother.
‘There is such a thing as mutual satisfaction, you know,’ he pointed out softly.
‘And there is such a thing as no satisfaction at all!’ Romy declared irrationally. Because she was damned if she was just going to let him lead her upstairs now, like a lamb to the slaughter.
‘So I take it that bed is out of the question?’ he drawled as he began unhurriedly to pull his jeans back up.
Unfortunately, Romy did not manage to avert her eyes in time. Instead she found herself unable to look away from him, her gaze drawn hypnotically to the wicked glint in his eyes as he slowly zipped up his jeans, in the most deliberately provocative way possible.
‘Bed?’ he mouthed at her again, with a lazy smile.
For a moment, Romy could not deny that she was tempted—sorely tempted. And who in their right mind wouldn’t have been, when the sight of Dominic sprawled sexily on the grass would have tempted a saint?
‘Do you usually proposition women quite so blatantly?’ she demanded, her cheeks growing even hotter.
‘No,’ he answered slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘But then I have never met a woman who was so refreshingly at ease with her body. Or mine,’ he added, with a grin.
‘You make the whole thing sound so commonplace and mechanical,’ she complained.
He jumped up to tower darkly over her. ‘Do I?’ he mused. ‘Well, it isn’t. Certainly not with you, anyway. In fact, my experiences with you to date, Romy, have been the most unpredictable and exciting I have ever encountered.’
She forced herself to push away the sudden glow of pleasure which his words had produced, because he had basically just made her sound as though she was Courtesan of the Year—not paid her a delicate compliment. ‘Really?’ she questioned moodily.
‘Really,’ he agreed, with a smile. ‘So don’t let’s spoil it by over-analysing it. Why don’t we just go to bed, and let me give you back some of the pleasure which you have just so beautifully bestowed on me?’
‘Bed?’ she echoed indignantly. ‘Are you some kind of sex-maniac?’
For a second he looked perplexed. But then, to her fury, he simply laughed. ‘You flatter me, Romy,’ he murmured.
‘I didn’t intend to!’ Romy smoothed her dress again with as much dignity as she could muster. ‘I’d better go inside,’ she told him. ‘There are these flowers to arrange and I want to check on the seating plan for dinner.’
The intrusion of domestic detail finally broke into the afterglow of his orgasm. His lethargy disintegrated and Dominic saw the world shift back into cold, grim focus.
‘Romy!’ he said harshly, and something in his voice made her stop and stare at him, a question in her eyes. Tell me about Mark,’ he said suddenly.
Romy looked down and found that her hands were trembling uncontrollably. ‘Mark?’ she questioned shrilly, unable to believe her ears. ‘Mark? Why do you want to talk about Mark? And why now?’
Because he needed to keep reminding himself of how abominably she had behaved towards her late husband, that was why, Dominic told himself grimly. And because he was in grave danger of forgetting why he had lured her here in the first place.
A distinctly hostile light glittered from his silvery grey eyes. ‘Why not? He was once my best friend, after all.’
“‘Once” being the operative word,’ she agreed caustically, and now it was her turn to see him flinch. ‘Because after we were married you disappeared abroad and that was it.’
‘And how could I face him again, knowing what I had done with you?’ he demanded. ‘Knowing that I had betrayed him in the most wounding way it is possible to betray someone? God, I could hardly bear to look at myself in the mirror afterwards—I’m damned sure I couldn’t have faced Mark!’
‘And because of that, because of the guilt you felt, Mark didn’t get to see you before—’
‘Before your perfidy drove him to his death?’ he queried coldly.
‘Mark died of cancer, as well you know,’ she defended herself in a low, shaking voice. ‘You’re surely not going to accuse me of causing that?’
‘But such illnesses can be brought on by stress, can’t they?’ he observed cruelly. ‘And I really can’t think of anything more stressful than living with a woman who strays the way you clearly did. A wife, moreover, whose greatest pleasure in life appears to be having sex in bizarre places!’
Romy hesitated. He was so determined to think badly of her that she doubted he would believe the truth even if she dared tell him. But it was suddenly terribly important to her that she attempted to explain. ‘Dominic,’ she told him quietly, ‘there’s a lot you don’t understand—’
‘The only thing I fail to understand,’ he bit back coldly, as if she had not spoken, ‘is why an intelligent man like Mark neglected to see through your two-facedness. Tell me, Romy, did you go straight to his arms from mine that day? Or did even your conscience get the better of you?’
His grey eyes glittered hectically. ‘Did you rush back and take a shower before you saw him again? Washing every inch of your skin obsessively—afraid that the scent of love was lingering on your body like the most cloying perfume?’ he challenged coolly.
Romy met the challenge in his eyes without wavering, though she reckoned that few women would have been able to withstand that withering look of contempt.
But wasn’t it best to get all these bitter grudges out into the open after so long? Like sores left to fester, perhaps the only way for the two of them to find some kind of peace of mind was to give voice to the unspeakable, and let all the poison come spilling out.
‘Yes, I went back to my room and took a shower,’ she told him woodenly, remembering the way she had stared at herself in disbelief through the steam-covered mirror, her skin still pink and flushed, her body still trembling with unwilling delight at what he had made happen for her.
‘And you don’t think that was a sick way to begin a marriage?’ he demanded. ‘If you were getting up to things like that before the ceremony even took place then what the hell was it like afterwards?’ His eyes glittered with stark silver accusation. ‘How could you bear to live like that, for God’s sake, Romy?’
Romy sighed. It wasn’t that he wasn’t listening; it was that he simply didn’t want to hear. ‘No one really knows what goes on in someone else’s marriage,’ she said slowly.
His voice was cold and critical. ‘And maybe too many people go into marriage with the wrong attitude.’
‘Maybe that’s why you’ve never married?’ she suggested quietly, acutely aware that she held her breath as she waited for his answer. ‘If your expectations are so high.’
He gave a smile laced with cynicism. ‘What are you implying, Romy? That no “modem” woman could tolerate the thought of living with a man old-fashioned enough to insist on sharing his bed with just one partner?’
‘What the hell are you suggesting?’
His mouth twisted with disdain. ‘Please don’t insult my intelligence by trying to tell me that everything was hunky-dory between the two of you. Particularly given your track record, Romy.’
She read the silent burning question which haunted his silver eyes and knew that however painful it might be she had to try to answer it for him. Though she ran the risk of him not believing her, of course...
‘Dominic...’ she began hesitantly. ‘I was never unfaithful to Mark after we were married.’
‘Just lots of times beforehand, huh?’ He casually tucked his white T-shirt back into his jeans, and Romy found herself having to suppress a shudder of awareness as she remembered just why he had to do so. And yet now they were standing talking to each other as though nothing had happened!
‘Although technically, I suppose, you weren’t actually unfaithful with me, were you?’ he ground out. ‘Since penetration did not take place. I suppose it’s all a question of degree, isn’t it, Romy? But I don’t think that I would be particularly happy if my best man had his hands all over my fiancée’s—’
She lifted her hand then and slapped his face.
Hard.
And in the rather stunned silence which followed Romy stared up at him, her breath coming in short, defiant bursts.
With a wry expression on his face Dominic lifted his hand to the dull red mark on his cheek, and began to rub the spot gingerly. ‘You little wildcat,’ he commented softly, but he sounded more amused than abused.
‘You deserved that,’ she told him firmly. ‘You know you did! Still, I shouldn’t have resorted to hitting you, Dominic.’
‘Yes, you should.’ He shook his head, the remnants of that reluctant smile still lingering around the corners of his mouth. ‘You should have done it a lot sooner, Romy. And maybe it’s brought me to my senses.’
‘What do you mean?’
His face tensed. ‘Perhaps it’s about time I faced up to the fact that I can’t keep blaming you for what happened. That I ought to shoulder an equal share of the responsibility for what went on between us.’
Suddenly he turned away to look into the middle distance, as if he was fascinated by the sight of the sunlight glancing off the lake. When he spoke, his voice was strangely sombre. ‘Of course, some people might say that you would be well within your rights to accuse me of having taken advantage of you that day.’
Romy blinked. ‘That simply doesn’t make sense,’ she said.
‘Oh? And why not?’
‘Because if I was so hot for you, and so sexually frustrated—which was, I think, the suggestion you made earlier—then how on earth could you have taken advantage of me?’
He uttered the words reluctantly, as if every one had been dipped in poison. ‘Because you were only nineteen!’ he ground out.
Romy frowned. ‘Yes, I was nineteen,’ she agreed, now feeling rather mystified. ‘But that’s hardly jailbait these days, is it?’
His face darkened. ‘And I was twenty-six.’
‘Well, that doesn’t actually put you in the category of ancient seducer either,’ observed Romy drily.
She saw the undisguised surprise in his eyes, and was suddenly glad that she had not just taken the easy way out.
Because it would have been so easy to agree with him and tell him that, yes, he had taken advantage of her. And maybe if he had suggested it at the time it happened she might have agreed with him.
But she was older now, and hopefully wiser. And she was damned if she was going to come over as a victim!
Everything that had happened between her and Dominic she had wanted to happen. And even though part of her had known that it was very wrong that had not stopped her from acting the way she had. Indeed, she doubted whether anything could have stopped her...
‘Thank you for that,’ he said quietly, and he obviously spoke from the heart, and Romy suddenly felt as though she was a non-swimmer who had landed in deep, deep waters.
She needed to get away from him. Away from that speculative silver gaze which reminded her all too poignantly of just how much she still wanted him.
‘Good grief!’ she exclaimed in mock horror as she looked down at her watch in the kind of exaggerated gesture usually seen on stage. ‘The Baileys will be arriving soon,’ she babbled. ‘And I haven’t even arranged these flowers, and I’ll have to be there to greet them, and—’
‘No, you won’t. I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself, Romy. Just check that everything is running smoothly behind the scenes, and then join us for dinner at eight.’
Romy frowned. She had never felt quite so redundant on a job before! She threw him a suspicious look. ‘Are you absolutely sure I’m needed this weekend, Dominic?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘Only ten guests, for a start—’
‘You are needed,’ he interrupted quietly. ‘To put Archie Bailey at his ease and to see that his wife doesn’t drink too much whilst ensuring that she does not feel in any way deprived. The two of them bicker about nothing most of the time, and so a spot of light refereeing will also be part of your duties! And you’re needed to encourage his son’s heavily pregnant and rather shy wife to talk, and not to clam up with embarrassment. You are needed, Romy, because everyone I have ever spoken to about you tells me that you are a genius at handling people.’
Romy blushed scarlet at the unexpected praise. ‘Do they?’
‘They do. I’m only surprised that you haven’t yet learned how to handle me.’ His eyes glimmered with humour when he saw her reaction. ‘Perhaps I should rephrase that—’
‘I don’t think you should even try,’ she warned him, and had just bent down to pick up her flower basket when something very solemn in his voice halted her again.
‘Romy?’
She straightened up slowly, dreading the question she knew was coming almost as much as she dreaded meeting that piercing silver stare.
‘What?’
‘Do you regret what happened just now?’
Did she? Romy allowed herself a dizzy snatch of memory. Regret it? That was the oddest thing of all—she didn’t feel one bit of regret.
Unwilling to meet his eyes, she studied a clutch of cornflowers, trying to think how a woman of the world would respond. She shrugged lightly. ‘Regret is such a wasted emotion, I always think.’
‘So you’re not tempted to leave?’
‘I’m very tempted,’ she answered honestly. ‘But running away at this stage isn’t going to help.’
‘And is it working?’ he asked obscurely.
‘What?’
‘This saturation therapy you told me about the day you came to the house. Enforced proximity. Is it ridding us of our mutual obsession, do you think?’
She couldn’t help the small smile which curved her lips. ‘I can’t tell. But give me time, Dominic, give me time! The more I get to know you, the easier it will be, I’m sure.’
‘I do hope your confidence isn’t misplaced,’ he warned her silkily.
Her eyes were velvety black in their intensity as she refused to let him outstare her. So did she! ‘In the meantime, I think you’d better stay out of my way until dinnertime.’
And then she swept off without giving him a backward glance, carrying her basket of flowers over one arm, wondering if she had dreamt up the sound of his low, mocking laughter.
Back at the house, it was a relief to have something to occupy her mind, and Romy slipped into automatic pilot.
No regrets, she had as good as told him, and as she went from room to room she told herself that she wouldn’t even think about how shockingly they had behaved back there in broad daylight.
In practice, of course, it was not that simple, and she found her mind going round and round in circles which began and ended with Dominic Dashwood.
She hadn’t lied to him. Because, rightly or wrongly, she had adored being able to touch him like that, without inhibition. Had loved feeling him powerless and vulnerable beneath her questing fingers.
So did that mean that she merely felt justified in paying him back in kind? Or that she had finally grown up and was starting to feel at ease with her own sexuality?
Or were her worst dreams going to come true? Romy chewed distractedly on her lip. What if she found herself on the same downward spiral of casual sex which had characterised her mother’s life?
But sex didn’t seem to interest her, Romy, unless it involved Dominic—so what did that tell her?
That she was crazy, that was what!
Forcing herself to concentrate on the task in hand, Romy found vases and grouped all the different blooms she had picked into dramatic, colour coordinated arrangements. She also made miniature posies for each guest’s place at the table. Afterwards she carefully left them in the pantry, which was cool and dark, in order to keep them as fresh as possible before dinner.
With the help of Ellen, she hunted out all Dominic’s finest glass and china and set the dining table as elaborately as possible. Next, she brought out the prettily decorated place-names which she had written out last night, and then checked that the bathrooms had soap and fresh towels, and left chocolates and mineral water in each bedroom.
The smell of freshly picked strawberries greeted her in the kitchen where Gilly, the caterer, was decorating the top of a fluffy white pavlova.
‘How’s it all going?’ asked Romy, peering into a bowl of whipped cream and resisting the urge to take a blob for herself.
‘Fine,’ smiled Gilly. ‘The watercress soup is chilling and I’m just about to make the pastry for the salmon en croûte. After that I’m going to decorate the chocolate roulade.’
Romy almost drooled. ‘Sounds wonderful! Well, as you seem to have everything under control, I’m going to go upstairs to get dressed.’
She took more care than usual getting ready for dinner. She normally prided herself on her rush-and-go ability to shower and sling on something to wear in under twelve minutes. Romy liked a natural look.
But tonight was different.
Tonight, she made a feature of her eyes with a coppery shadow which glittered on the lids like bronze frost. Next she dramatically outlined them with kohl pencil, then used far more than her usual lick of mascara. A slick of vampish red lipstick completed the look.
The result was both gratifying and disturbing.
For once she looked her age—and even if she hadn’t done then the bronze satin sheath of her evening dress very definitely emphasised the fact that, physically at least, she was now a fully fledged woman, and not the young girl she had been when she had first met Dominic.
Was she imagining things, or had her breasts suddenly become heavier and more curved overnight? she wondered. Had she somehow gained an extra few pounds without trying? Because surely something must be responsible for the way the silken fabric clung like a caress to her breasts and hips and bottom like that?
Even her blonde hair, which tonight she had actually bothered to take a hairdrier to, looked paler and fuller—framing her heart-shaped face with feathery little fronds.
And she had to stifle a small gasp as she stood at last in front of the full-length mirror. Imagine that she could look like that! Her dark eyes glittered as blackly as jet and her mouth was a wide and sultry scarlet slash.
Did she just want to hold her own against a woman as beautiful as Triss Alexander? she wondered. Or was she deliberately trying to make Dominic desire her even more? And if so—then why?
Brushing aside these uncomfortable questions, Romy slid her feet into the bronze high-heeled shoes which matched her gown.
She made her way down the impressive sweep of the oak-banistered staircase, her heart jumping into her mouth when she saw just who was waiting at the bottom.
Of course, she had seen him formally dressed before; he had looked absolutely wonderful in an elegant grey morning suit at her wedding. She remembered feeling guiltily aware of that fact even as she was saying her vows.
But tonight he was wearing black—a black dinner jacket and trousers and a black bow-tie knotted around his neck. The colour seemed to draw attention to his height and to the impressive breadth of his shoulders, while the beautifully cut trousers outlined the muscular thrust of his thighs. The contrast of a fine white shirt only added to his buccaneer-like appeal, and Romy felt her knees grow weak.
OK, he looks like a dream, she admitted to herself as she tried not to trip down the last few steps. But so what? Those perfect looks conceal a man who may desire you but who will never respect you. Never in a million years.
He chose just that moment to look up.
Caught in the cross-fire of that luminous grey stare, Romy realised that he was studying her just as closely, and that a pulse was beating hypnotically at the base of his neck, and she immediately found herself wishing that she hadn’t gone to so much trouble with her appearance.
‘You look quite—exquisite,’ he said eventually.
‘Thank you.’ Feeling ridiculously nervous, Romy sucked in a deep breath and began looking distractedly around the hall. ‘Where is everyone?’
‘Having drinks. The Baileys junior aren’t coming, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh?’
‘She’s feeling tired, and because she’s seven months pregnant they’ve decided to play safe and stay at home.’
‘I’ll have to alter the table,’ said Romy quickly.
‘Plenty of time to do that,’ he told her. ‘I’ve already spoken to Ellen. Come and have a drink first and meet everyone.’
‘O-OK’ Romy cringed inwardly at the way her voice trembled. Why was she suddenly feeling shot with nerves? She had had last-minute cancellations a million times before without panicking. This was supposed to be her job, for heaven’s sake!
With a rather thoughtful glance at the way she was repeatedly smoothing her dress down over her hips, Dominic gestured towards the sitting room and the two of them walked towards it side by side.
The French windows had been thrown open to the balmy summer evening, and Romy could hear the sound of voices and laughter and ice chinking in glasses.
She walked into the garden, feeling far more sensitive than usual, and the first person she saw was Triss, looking outrageously stunning and wearing a floor-length gown made out of what appeared to be shiny yellow plastic, shimmying across the lawn towards them.
‘Hello, Dominic. Romy, hi.’ She smiled and, seeing Romy’s hastily disguised expression of amazement, shrugged her bare shoulders with a flirty little wriggle. ‘I know, I know! Eye-catching gown, isn’t it? The designer sends them over to me from Italy for nothing, and believe it or not they cost an absolute fortune in the shops,’ she added, with a grin.
‘He thinks that Triss is the best advertisement for his clothes that he could have,’ came a gravelly Irish voice from behind her, and Romy turned round to see Cormack Casey standing there, a glass of champagne in either hand. ‘And he’s right, of course.’
Staring up at him, Romy had to gulp back her surprise that in the flesh he was even more captivating than in the rare photos she had seen of him. And she hadn’t realised that he was so tall! About six feet four, by the look of him!
‘Meet my husband-to-be, Cormack Casey—the world’s most wonderful scriptwriter,’ gurgled Triss. This is Romy Salisbury, darling—remember I told you about her? Is that champagne for us?’
‘It is indeed.’ He smiled, and a look of such love and longing passed between them that Romy got a very good idea of what a gooseberry might feel like, and was actually glad that Dominic had remained firmly rooted by her side—even if he had remained uncharacteristically silent all the while!
‘Hello, Romy,’ said Cormack, with a crinkly-eyed grin, holding the full glasses aloft as though they were Academy awards. ‘I think we’d better skip shaking hands, don’t you? I don’t think spilt champagne would look at all well over that pretty dress. Here.’ He handed her a glass of cold champagne.
‘Thanks,’ said Romy gratefully, taking a sip of wine and willing her usual self-possession to come back. ‘I loved Time and Tide—I thought it was the best thing you’ve ever done!’
‘Wait until you see my latest,’ he confided, his gorgeous blue eyes crinkling up at the corners. ‘I wrote it especially for Triss.’
‘Oh, darting.’ Triss looked deep into his eyes and sighed ecstatically.
‘Come over here,’ said Dominic, propelling Romy gently by the elbow. ‘The Baileys are being given a grand tour by Lola. I’ll introduce you to Geraint instead.’
Geraint Howell-Williams was an extremely sexy Welshman who instantly put Romy at ease by saying to Dominic, ‘Stop standing there brooding at her side, looking like her satanic guardian, man! Just go and get my wife back before she starts rearranging your kitchen garden before dinner!’
Dominic gave a lazy smile. ‘Lola’s so good at gardening that I really think I ought to give her a job one of these days,’ he commented. ‘Excuse me, Romy—I won’t be long.’
Again, Romy found herself dazzled by that grey stare. Was he deliberately laying on the charm tonight? she asked herself mulishly. ‘Be as long as you like,’ she heard herself saying, and was treated to a sardonic sideways glance.
Silently, Geraint and Romy watched Dominic as he walked up the garden, a striking vision in his stark black evening clothes set against the colours of the flowers as they bloomed in the still bright light.
When he had all but disappeared, Romy looked up to find Geraint studying her.
‘Have you known Dominic long?’ she asked him, feeling flustered.
He threw her a perceptive glance. ‘I met him out in Hong Kong.’
‘Oh?’ Romy felt her cheeks growing pink.
‘Mmm. His reputation went before him.’ Geraint smiled with recollection. ‘He was the archetypal rags to riches success story. Born poor but born brilliant—with a steely determination to succeed which intimidated a lot of people.’
‘But not you?’
Geraint shook his head. ‘Not me, no. I admire ambition, and I like Dominic. Very much. He doesn’t give much away about himself, but beneath that formidable exterior is a man I would trust with my life. A truly good man.’ He grinned. ‘Plus I owe him a very great debt.’
Romy blinked. ‘You do?’
‘Sure do. He lent me his house earlier this year, and that’s how I met Lola.’ His face momentarily clenched with something akin to pain, and he saw her look of bewilderment. ‘But that’s another story. Let’s just say that, indirectly, Dominic brought Lola and me together, and I can’t thank him enough for that.’
The obvious emotion which had deepened Geraint’s voice had a sudden and profound effect on Romy, and she began to tremble, as though some unseen presence had iced her skin.
Because she loved Dominic, she realised hopelessly. She loved him in a way he could never love her. Oh, Lord, what had she done?
‘You like him,’ Geraint said abruptly. ‘You like him a lot. Don’t you?’
Romy found herself blushing again, and despaired. She seemed to have become so transparent recently. All she knew was that she was finding it impossible to disguise her feelings.
She shook her head. ‘No. I don’t like him at all. Nothing could be further from the truth. We argue most of the time, as it happens.’
‘Ah! Then it must be serious!’ Geraint smiled and took a sip of his drink, then gave her a quick look. ‘If you really want to know-Lola and I thought it was absurd for Dominic to book a professional party planner in the first place.’
Romy had had similar thoughts herself. She scooped a peanut out of a bowl and crunched it, more for something to do with her fingers than because she was particularly hungry. ‘Oh?’
Geraint smiled, aware that Romy was trying to pretend she didn’t care. But she did care, he decided suddenly. Of that he was certain.
‘It’s just that of all the men I know—or indeed that I’ve ever met—Dominic is the last person to have need of services such as the ones that you provide.’
Romy willed herself not to blush. Not again! It was just her guilty conscience which was making Geraint’s innocent remark take on a provocative double meaning. ‘Oh? And why’s that?’
‘Just that I could name at least twenty women who would adore to assume your role—and he wouldn’t have to pay them either!’
‘Oh, I’ve planned lots of parties for men who are just as eligible as Dominic Dashwood,’ said Romy stiffly. ‘More so, in fact, since most of them didn’t have his high-handed way of going about things!’
Geraint smiled. ‘OK, point taken. Then let me put it another way. Why hire you for something like this? I mean, it’s hardly big-time entertaining, is it? Cormack and Triss and Lola and I are simply friends and neighbours who see Dominic on a fairly frequent basis anyway, while Archie Bailey thinks that our host is the greatest thing since sliced bread.’
Romy shook her head. ‘Well, he might think that—but he still needs to be persuaded to sell Dominic some land. That’s what this party is all about.’
Geraint shrugged. ‘If Archie refuses to sell there are a million other, equally profitable sites that Dominic could choose from. So it seems pretty clear to me that your presence here isn’t strictly necessary. Which leads me to one conclusion...’ His eyes sparkled with mischief, and Romy was intrigued despite herself.
‘Oh?’
‘That this party is all a huge ruse to lure you here!’ He lowered his voice. ‘You are obviously the elusive woman whom Dominic has been searching for all his life. And you have obviously played so hard to get—a wise strategy, given Dominic’s experience,’ he added, with a conspiratorial wink, ‘that he has had to invent a reason for bringing you to his house!’
Romy felt as though her stomach had turned to ice. Her? Playing hard to get? With Dominic? It would almost be funny if she stopped to think about it. But she didn’t dare stop to think about it.
Because she was only just beginning to realise that her naive notion of seeing Dominic as much as possible in order to concentrate on all his faults was a flawed and stupid idea.
Because, let’s face it, Romy, she told herself gloomily, whatever you discover about him won’t matter a bit. The attraction which had overwhelmed her at the age of nineteen was still stubbornly refusing to die.
Could she perhaps plead a sudden and debilitating virus, and make her escape before she got in any deeper than she already was?
‘Romy,’ said a soft, sweet and instantly familiar voice behind her. Romy whirled round, prepared to offer him her most unfriendly face, and then saw that he was accompanied by a couple who were obviously Mr and Mrs Bailey.
Archie Bailey was a fit-looking sixty-year-old, conventionally attired in a very new-looking black suit, while his wife was resplendent in a floor-length concoction of raspberry-coloured taffeta. Still, she must feel positively underdressed when she looks at Triss, thought Romy with some amusement.
‘Where’s Lola?’ asked Geraint.
‘She has insisted on tying back an untidy wisteria,’ Dominic grinned, and Romy thought how carefree he could look when he smiled like that. What a pity he didn’t do it more often!
‘Then I’d better go and find her before she starts pruning your roses too!’ Geraint laughed, and set off across the garden.
Dominic turned to Romy. ‘I’d like to introduce Archie and Dolly Bailey,’ he murmured. ‘This is Romy Salisbury.’
Dolly Bailey gave Romy a champagne-fuelled smile, and held out a plump hand which was covered in rings.
‘Hello, my love,’ she said, beaming, in the broadest northern accent that Romy had ever heard. ‘Pleased to meet you! I’m dying to hear all about that foreign royal family—and especially about a certain member of it, who I understand was absolutely smitten by you!’ Romy shook her blonde head ruefully, wishing that people wouldn’t believe everything they read in the papers! ‘There was nothing between us. It was pure invention by newspapers who would like to see him married!’
‘And increase their sales, of course,’ added Dominic cynically.
‘You’ve been reading too many tabloids again, Dolly!’ complained Archie.
‘And I shall carry on reading as many as I like!’ his wife retorted spiritedly.
‘I do hope that your daughter-in-law is feeling better,’ ventured Romy.
‘Oh, she’s nothing but a fusspot!’ said Dolly cheerfully. ‘First sign of a sniffle and everyone’s on full flu alert! And John gives in to her, too! I must say that when I was carrying our three I was out chopping logs for the fire—wasn’t I, pet?’
‘Aye, you were that,’ agreed Archie, with a somewhat grudging note of admiration in his voice.
Romy’s eyes met Dominic’s in a rare moment of perfect understanding. The Baileys were exactly as she had pictured them from his description!
She was just wondering fleetingly how he might describe her when she saw Ellen appear on the terrace and glance over in her direction.
Romy put her half-empty champagne glass down on one of the tables. ‘Please excuse me,’ she murmured, aware of Dominic’s eyes on her as she turned towards the house. ‘I must go and see to the table.’
Dinner was an odd affair—on the surface everything seemed to go swimmingly, but Romy felt so churned up with nerves that she could barely eat a thing.
She had deliberately put herself as far away from Dominic as possible, but that wasn’t far at all, considering there were now only eight of them eating, and it didn’t seem to stop her thinking about him for the entire first course. It took every effort of will she possessed not to let her gaze linger on him, and to wonder how he managed to turn eating into a sensual art-form.
Lola, Geraint’s wife, was absolutely enchanting, with her wild mahogany curls and her blazing blue eyes. She had recently given up her job as an air stewardess to concentrate on landscape gardening, and she berated Dominic loudly throughout the meal for neglecting his wisteria.
Dominic merely laughed and said, ‘Come back when you’ve finished your landscaping course, Mrs Howell-Williams, and I’ll give you a job!’
‘You’re on!’ said Lola, and winked at Romy, who was frankly finding it a little wearing to have to witness all his effortless charm being directed at everyone except her!
She drank half a glass of wine and concentrated on chatting to Archie, who began telling her all about his passion for fishing. ‘And that’s what I plan to do once I’m retired. If Dolly lets me,’ he added wistfully.
‘I’m sure she will,’ said Romy reassuringly.
Everyone had just helped themselves to salmon and potatoes and salad, when Ellen appeared at the door to announce that there was a telephone call for Archie.
Something in her voice made them all grow silent. Archie stood up and left the table immediately, and with one frowning look at Ellen Dominic followed him.
‘Probably some crisis at the factory.’ Dolly shrugged as she heaped another spoonful of boiled potatoes onto her plate. ‘I shall be glad to see the back of the damned place!’
Romy carried on as if nothing had happened, making sure that everyone had enough to eat and drink. Though tonight her job did not seem like work at all. Lola, Geraint, Triss and Cormack really were the most delightful people, who seemed to know each other really well and like each other a lot.
They all led fulfilled and independent lives, and yet St Fiacre’s seemed such a happy and thriving community. What she would give to live in a community like this, Romy found herself thinking almost wistfully, suddenly aware of how isolated her little mews house was. Oh, it was a very comfortable house—pretty, too—and, situated slap-bang in the middle of London’s shops and parks, its location could not be better.
But—and it was a big but—her neighbours were practically non-existent. The other houses in the mews had all been bought as investments by foreign bankers. Imagine being able to nip next door to borrow a cup of sugar the way Lola and the others obviously could!
Romy gave herself a little shake. Good grief—next she would be looking into prams and cooing, if she wasn’t careful!
When Dominic returned, his face was oddly serious, and he went round the table to lean over Dolly, placing a comforting hand on her plump shoulder.
‘Your daughter-in-law has been admitted to hospital,’ he told her softly. ‘They suspect that she might be about to go into premature labour—’
‘Oh, my God!’ yelled Dolly, and sent a wineglass crashing to the floor. ‘And after all those things I said about her, too!’
‘Try not to distress yourself, Dolly,’ he soothed. ‘They’re going to try to prevent anything happening. But if they can’t—well, these days thirty weeks is a viable length of time for a pregnancy.‘ He squeezed her shoulder. ’She’ll be fine—I’m sure she will! The doctor sounded very confident. So come on—I’m going to drive you both to the airport.’
‘Airport?’ screeched Dolly, as if he had suggested drifting to Newcastle on a magic carpet. ‘But we travelled down by train! And we’ve got a hire-car outside—’
‘And I’m going to drive it for you—Archie’s feeling a little shaken up,’ explained Dominic slowly.
‘But what about our return ticket?’ asked Dolly, her voice rising hysterically. ‘We can’t fly to Newcastle—it isn’t far enough!’
‘Don’t worry; I’ve arranged everything. Let’s go and fetch your things,’ said Dominic calmly. ‘Archie’s on the phone to your son at the moment. When he’s finished we can get going. Romy, can—?’
‘I can sort everything out at this end,’ said Romy instantly, and he flashed her a grateful smile.
But once Dominic and Dolly had gone nobody had much appetite left. Romy picked up the shards of shattered wineglass while the other four sat disconsolately poking their spoons into untouched portions of chocolate roulade and strawberry pavlova.
Eventually Geraint put his spoon down with a sigh and said, ‘I don’t know about anyone else, but I think brandy is called for rather than pudding.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Cormack, but his voice sounded rather heavy as he looked across the table at Triss.
She gave an apologetic smile. ‘A quick brandy would be wonderful, but then would you mind if I went home? I just sort of want to check on Simon. He’s been teething, and grizzly, and if he wakes up and finds just the babysitter there...’
‘No one minds, Triss darling,’ said Cormack softly. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘I hope she’ll be OK,’ said Lola suddenly, her blue eyes clouding over. ‘And the baby.’
Geraint stood up and went to the sideboard where he collected brandy and glasses and brought them back to the table. ‘She’ll be fine,’ he said, pouring them all a huge measure. ‘They can save babies who are no bigger than a bag of sugar these days—which will make a seven-monther seem positively obese!’
They all drank brandy, and then strong black coffee, but the party mood was broken, and Romy wasn’t surprised when they all stood up to leave.
‘Thank Dominic for us,’ said Geraint as he bent and kissed her lightly on both cheeks.
‘I will,’ said Romy.
‘And be sure to come and look round the garden first thing,’ Lola dimpled.
‘I’d love to,’ promised Romy, hastily quashing the thought that she might not be here tomorrow...
But once they had gone, and she had helped clear up and then sent Ellen and Gilly home, she still felt in a dilemma, not knowing whether she should stay or go. Whilst instinct told her that leaving was the wiser option, her soft heart remembered the dark, sombre look on Dominic’s face, and urged her to wait for him.
She wandered around the house like a ghost, until she eventually found a small study which was lined with books from floor to ceiling. She was just looking with interest through one of the shelves when she heard the sound of a car engine, and then the front door slamming.
There was a brief silence, and then footsteps began walking slowly but inexorably towards the study.
Romy looked up as Dominic entered the small room, her heart in her mouth as she searched his face for news.
