Читать книгу His Rags-to-Riches Bride - Сара Крейвен, Susan Stephens - Страница 8

THE pain in her ankle was gradually turning to a dull throb. But the pain building inside her was a different matter. There was no quick fix for that, and it threatened to become unendurable more quickly than she could have imagined in her worst nightmares,

Yet she should have known, after these last two years of utter wretchedness. Months when she’d tried so hard to bury the hurt and bewilderment in the deepest recesses of her mind. And forget him.

Attempts that had never worked. That had eventually convinced her that only a complete change in her circumstances would do.

Which was why she’d made the reckless decision to relocate to Florida, without fully considering all the implications. Because she’d seen Andy’s proposition as a chance for rehabilitation—a way of turning her life around and making a new start.

With an ocean—a whole continent—between Daniel and herself, she’d reasoned wildly, she might just stand a chance.

But now, after only just over a month, she was back, and in a worse situation than before. And shock and anger were fast giving way to total desperation as she contemplated what the weeks ahead of her would hold.

Seeing Daniel each day, she realised, her throat tightening. Knowing that he was sleeping only a matter of yards away every night. Oh, dear God.

She had a sudden image of him as he’d been that night, two years ago, his tanned skin dark against the white towelling bathrobe, his face stark with disbelief in the moonlight as she’d told him, over and over again, her voice small and raw, the words stumbling against each other, that their marriage only a few hours earlier had been a terrible—a disastrous mistake. And that it was finished—over and done with—even before it had begun.

Forcing him to accept that she meant every word, and that there would be no second chance. Until at last he’d believed her, and turned away in bitter condemnation.

But he’d done as she wished. The marriage had been dissolved, more quickly and quietly than she’d believed possible.

What a strange word ‘dissolved’ was to use in the context of ending a marriage, she thought. It sounded almost gentle, implying that the relationship had been made to vanish, like rain falling on the earth. Not the agonised tearing apart—the destruction of her hopes and dreams—that had really taken place.

Nor had it led to Daniel simply disappearing from her life, as she’d hoped. Because once Laine had started living and working in London he’d been only too much in evidence.

She’d glimpsed him in the distance across crowded rooms. Looked down from the circle of a theatre to see him in the stalls, or discovered his picture in some paper or magazine. Never alone, either. The parade of his women seemed unending. Although, as she’d reminded herself wretchedly, that was only to be expected.

After all, he was a free man, in a way that she would never be a free woman. Because his heart had not been broken, or his life shattered, as hers had been.

But she’d never, mercifully, been close enough to him for their eyes to meet, or any greeting to be exchanged. Some atavistic instinct had always seemed to give her advance warning when he was around, enabling her to steel herself and move unobtrusively out of his orbit.

Until, of course, today, when her antennae had been disjointed—thrown into confusion by the events of the last forty-eight hours.

But how could I have thought—how could I possibly have dreamed—that something like this could happen? she asked herself, her throat tightening. Never—never in this world.

She checked, her heart thudding erratically against her ribs, as his door opened again. This time he was transformed into business formality, in elegant charcoal pants and an immaculate white shirt worn with a crimson silk tie. He was slotting thin gold links into his cuffs as he strode past her towards Jamie’s bedroom without even glancing in her direction.

She found a voice. ‘What are you doing?’

He said crisply, ‘Making it possible for you to get to your bathroom without damaging that ankle even more.’

‘Please don’t bother.’ Laine lifted her chin. ‘I can cope perfectly well alone.’

He threw her a sardonic glance. ‘Oh, that it were true.’

He pushed the door ajar and edged round it, and the next few minutes were filled with various brisk bangs and thuds, and a few muttered curses, while Laine sat chewing her lip.

She hated being forced to be beholden to him, even in the least respect, she thought furiously. But this would be the last time. She’d see to that.

From now on she would build a firewall round herself, she promised silently. Practise every avoidance tactic available. Because this was a question of sheer survival.

When Daniel came back, dusting off his hands, she was sitting rigidly upright, her face inimical.

‘Thank you.’ Her tone was ice.

‘Gratitude,’ he said, ‘may not be your predominating emotion when you see the state of the bathroom.’ He shrugged into his jacket and picked up his briefcase. ‘But—that’s your problem. One of many, I suspect.’

He paused, took a business card from his wallet, and tossed it down beside her. ‘Jamie’s contact number,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’ll want a word with him.’ His smile grazed her. ‘You both have some explaining to do.’

At the door, he took a final look back at her. ‘And, talking of explanations, one of these days or nights—if the conversation palls—you might care to tell me why you put us both through that farce two years ago. Standing beside me in church, making vows you had no intention of keeping, even for twenty-four hours. When the simplest course would have been to call the whole thing off, saving us both a load of grief.’ He allowed a heartbeat for her to assimilate that. Then, ‘See you later,’ he added with cool emphasis. And went.

‘Look,’ Jamie said with a defensiveness Laine could recognise even from the other side of the Atlantic, ‘I didn’t really have a choice. And what’s the beef anyway? Okay, your marriage was a total fiasco, but that’s long over, and I don’t suppose he bears a grudge. Not after all this time.’

You think that? You really believe it?

‘Anyway,’ he added into the silence, ‘there was a time when he was practically one of the family, especially after—after …’

‘Don’t,’ Laine said, her voice suddenly husky. ‘Just don’t.’ She took a deep breath, struggling with her composure. ‘You have to understand that things are different now. And I—I don’t think I can do this.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ His voice took on a peevish note. ‘The two of us got by on a policy of strict non-interference, didn’t we? Same roof, separate lives. And it will be the exactly same with Daniel.’

No, she said silently. It won’t be. It can’t. Because I’ve done that once before. And how can I live through that same nightmare all over again and remain sane?

‘He’s away a lot anyway,’ he added. ‘Visiting the corners of his far-flung empire. And when he is there, he certainly won’t be sniffing round you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. Once bitten, twice shy.’ He laughed. ‘Besides, I’ve seen a sample of his current ladies, and you’re not in the same league, sister dear.’

He had not, she thought, needed to tell her that. She knew it already. Had known it for too long.

She kept her voice steady. ‘Thanks for the reassurance. Now, perhaps you’ll tell me what he’s doing here in our flat?’

He was silent for a moment. ‘He bought a house a while back,’ he said. ‘He’s been having it totally renovated—remodelled. Until it’s finished he needs somewhere temporary to crash that doesn’t involve long expensive leases with penalty clauses. It’s that simple.’

‘Forgive me,’ Laine said grittily, ‘if our ideas of simplicity don’t quite coincide.’ She paused. ‘You haven’t yet mentioned why you’re working for him.’

‘I needed a job. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.’

‘You had a job,’ she said. ‘At a decent firm. What happened?’

There was a silence, then he said, ‘I got fired.’

‘What?’

‘Fired,’ he repeated. ‘As in sacked, let go, contract terminated.’

Laine felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. ‘What did you do?’

‘Where shall I begin?’ He paused theatrically. ‘Inattention to detail. Poor time-keeping. Unexplained absences. Particularly those. They went through the procedures meticulously—written warnings, the lot. And I was found guilty on all charges.’

‘This is—unbelievable.’

‘Not really. Who wants to trust his business accounting to a guy who’s hung over before noon? Old Balfour went through my client records like a ferret. I think he hoped they could make it a police matter.’

‘Was that—possible?’

‘No.’ He paused. ‘I may be a total idiot, Laine, but I don’t have a death wish.’

‘No?’ she asked bitterly. ‘Well, you could have fooled me. And this sudden departure to the States sounds very much like a moonlight flit. Please tell me I’m wrong.’

‘You’re like a bloody Rottweiler,’ he said pettishly. ‘You won’t let go.’

‘My God, do you blame me?’ She drew a deep breath. ‘Jamie—the truth. What kind of obligation are you under to Daniel Flynn?’

There was a silence, then he said grudgingly, ‘I owe him—big time.’

It was the admission she’d least wanted to hear.

She said carefully, ‘Do you mean that literally, or figuratively?’

‘I mean it every which way,’ he told her heavily. ‘Six months ago I saved a client a lot of tax. He was grateful, and took me out to dinner. Afterwards we went to this gambling club, the Jupiter, where he was a member. We played roulette, and I won—quite a lot. Clive said I was a born gambler, and he sponsored me for membership. I started going back there. Once a week at first, and then more often. I won a little, but my losses soon began to mount up.

‘That’s when I ran into Daniel again. He was at the baccarat table one night. I could tell he was surprised to see me because the Jupiter catered for seriously high rollers. He invited me to have a drink with him, a chat about old times. But I soon realised he was trying to warn me off—advise me not to get in too deep. He said the Jupiter had something of a reputation. But I wasn’t prepared to listen.’

He continued impatiently, ‘I won’t make excuses, Laine. It was too late. I was already over my head, heavily in debt and unable to pay, and the club wanted its money.

‘I’d got to know Sandra, one of the croupiers, and she warned me that there were—people looking for me. That’s when I went to ground. Stayed away from the flat. Didn’t go to work. I—I’ve never been so scared in my life.

‘Eventually Daniel found me,’ he continued heavily. ‘I was—staying with Sandra’s cousin, and he persuaded her to give him the address. Said there was a family connection, and he wanted to help.’

‘Family connection?’ Laine echoed with angry derision. ‘My God, he has a damned nerve.’

‘Well, he was momentarily my brother-in-law. And what would you have preferred?’ He was angry too. ‘For me to be found in some alley, beaten to a pulp? In hospital with two broken legs? Daniel was a total bastard—he played absolute hell with me—but he also saved my life. Not for my sake. He made it damned clear that he thinks I’m pretty much a waste of good space.’ There was a faint choke in his voice. ‘No, he helped me only because he knows that Simon would have done the same.’

She said numbly, ‘Yes—of course, he would.’

‘So,’ Jamie went on, ‘he paid off the club, and got Sandra out of it, too, in case her bosses found out she’d been helping me and—objected.

‘That’s why he offered me a job in New York. He said we might find the climate healthier than London for the next few months. I told you—I don’t have a death wish, so I agreed. Letting him use the flat seemed a pretty small return, all things considered.’ There was a pause. ‘And, to be fair, I didn’t think you’d ever find out.’

‘Except I have, and now I’m being punished for your misdemeanours,’ Laine said with renewed crispness.

‘Well, that won’t worry him,’ Jamie said with a touch of weariness. ‘To be honest, he doesn’t seem to have a lot of time for either of us.’

He paused, ‘Anyway, what exactly are you doing back in the UK? Is the business doing so well that you can afford a holiday?’

No point in pretence. ‘There is no business. Not any more.’

‘You have to be kidding.’ His tone was incredulous. ‘Everyone wants to go fishing off the Florida Keys. It’s a licence to print money.’

‘Perhaps,’ she said. ‘But Andy decided to sell the licence.’

‘At a healthy profit, I hope?’

‘I imagine so,’ Laine said, her voice bright and brittle. ‘Unfortunately he never discussed it with me—before, during or after the transaction. Particularly after. I got back from trying to find us some alternative office premises and found it was a done deal and that Andy had—moved on.’ She took a breath. ‘I—decided against looking for him.’

He said slowly, ‘You mean—he took—everything? But you invested in that boat—every penny you had.’

‘So I did,’ she said. ‘But unfortunately I ended up with a nil return, silly me.’

There was a silence, then he said, ‘My God, Laine, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ she said, crisply. ‘I reckon in many ways I got off quite cheaply.’

‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But I genuinely thought you were happy—settled. That you were making yourself a life.’

‘I suppose I did too.’ But is that really the truth, or was I simply buying myself some time while I waited for the healing process to work?

‘However,’ she went on, ‘it’s left me in a bit of a spot, financially. And I rather hoped you’d be around—to help.’

‘Well, I would be,’ he said. ‘Under normal circumstances. But my salary level at Wordwide isn’t brilliant, and I have to start repaying Daniel.’

He paused awkwardly. ‘And there’s Sandra. She’s got a job in a diner. The money’s putrid, so she has to rely on tips to boost it. We’re having quite a struggle.’ Another pause. ‘What about the gallery? Couldn’t you get your old job back?’

‘Unlikely. They’ll have replaced me long ago.’

‘I suppose so.’ A longer silence. ‘You could always try Ma.’

‘No,’ she said, quietly. ‘That’s one of several things I won’t even consider.’

‘Daniel being another?’

‘The prime example,’ she confirmed. ‘Besides, it’s clear that you’ve used up any residue of goodwill he may have had towards the Sinclair family.’

‘You could try being nice to him,’ Jamie suggested.

Her voice was suddenly husky. ‘What the hell do you mean?’

‘Well, not what you’re thinking, obviously.’ He was defensive again. ‘But when you were a kid you used to follow him round like a puppy. And there must have been a time when he liked you too, or he wouldn’t have asked you to marry him. And even though it turned into a disaster, you might catch him at a sentimental moment.’

‘I don’t think he has them.’ Laine found herself sinking her teeth into her lower lip. ‘No, from here on I’m strictly on my own, but I’ll manage. Watch me.’

‘Is Daniel around now?’

‘He went to his office.’ She added coldly, ‘He looked the image of a man about to make his next million.’

‘Well, don’t knock it,’ Jamie said, with something of a snap. ‘I’ve no idea what happened between you two years ago, and I don’t want to know. However, I’ll just say this.’ His voice became urgent. ‘For God’s sake take it easy where he’s concerned, and don’t go out of your way to upset him, Laine, whatever you may feel. Because I can’t afford it. And maybe you can’t either.’

He paused. ‘Keep in touch.’

Laine replaced the receiver, and sat for a long while, staring into space.

Any fleeting plan of having the locks changed in Daniel’s absence no longer seemed to be an option, she thought, her mouth twisting.

She realised she wasn’t shocked or even particularly surprised by Jamie’s tale of woe. He seemed to have been tottering from one disaster to the next since adolescence. Flirtations with alcohol and drugs had led to expulsion from two schools, and he’d distinguished himself at the third with a brief and unsuccessful career as a bookmaker in the sixth form. Only the fact that his final public examinations were looming had saved him from yet another ignominious exit.

His time at university, however, had been relatively peaceful, and he’d apparently transferred seamlessly to Cowper Dymond.

Laine had hoped her brother’s problems were behind him, but how wrong could anyone be?

She supposed he was not entirely to blame. As their family life had begun to fall apart it was Jamie who’d absorbed most of the resultant pressure. Their mother’s dependency had been transferred to him.

Nobody expected very much of me, Laine thought. I was the youngest. The baby. The little sister.

She replaced the phone on its rest, and stood up. The ice pack had helped reduce some of the swelling to her ankle, and she’d apply another one later.

But now she had things to do. And making Jamie’s room at least habitable was the first of them. Comfort could follow once the place had been emptied tomorrow.

As Daniel had piled everything neatly in one corner, she could actually move around it as long as she was careful. She began by clearing her clothes from the bed, and hanging them in the fitted wardrobes, alongside the few things Jamie had left, then filling the empty drawers in his dressing chest.

She fetched clean linen and made up the bed, before devoting half an hour’s energetic cleaning to the scruffy bathroom, throwing away half-used toiletries and oddments of soap, and scouring the basin and tub.

Particularly the tub—because she had plans for that.

When basic hygiene had been restored, she stripped and put on her favourite robe, an elderly blue velour, much rubbed, but as comforting as a hug from a friend.

She unpacked her bag and put the modest amount of clothing it contained into the washing machine, along with the garments she’d just discarded. Her precipitate departure meant that she’d had to leave much of her stuff behind.

I seem to be spending my entire life in flight, one way or another, she derided herself. But now the thing I’ve dreaded most has happened, so there’s no point in running any more.

Finally, she ran herself a generous bath, scenting it lavishly with her favourite oil. She gave her hair a vigorous shampoo using the hand-shower, before sinking down with a grateful sigh into the water, immersing herself to the tops of her breasts. She leaned back, closing her eyes as the fragrant warmth caressed her skin.

This was heaven. The shower on the boat had been intermittent at best, and at times totally non-cooperative. Her last exchange with Andy had been on that very subject. She’d said they must get it fixed before the next season. He’d grunted.

Nothing new in that, she thought. But maybe she should have reckoned up the number of grunts per conversation and drawn some kind of conclusion from them. Then she might have been more prepared for his selling their only asset and doing a runner with the proceeds.

She’d known, of course, that Andy bitterly resented the fact that she’d refused any physical involvement with him, and supposed he could not, in truth, be blamed for that. However, she’d made no actual promises, she told herself defensively.

It had been the chance of a new life halfway across the world, out of harm’s way, that she’d wanted. Not him. And she’d agreed to go with him just as his business partner, not his lover. He should have taken nothing for granted.

But he was a good-looking example of the blond, curly haired, rugged corner of the market, and charming with it—on the surface at least—so he probably hadn’t had too many rejections in his life. No doubt he’d believed that proximity would do its work, and that he’d persuade her round to his way of thinking in due course.

Well, she thought with a swift shiver, at least I was spared that. The money was all he got from me.

He’d totally underestimated her indifference to him sexually, just as she’d completely missed the signs that beneath the charismatic son-of-the-sea pose was a common swindler.

A brilliant fisherman, of course, in every way. Bait the hook, she thought bitterly, and reel ‘em in.

But they’d had a good business going there, she reflected with regret. Their clientele had registered few complaints, and an abundance of compliments, especially about the good food she’d managed to produce in a galley that just bordered on the adequate, and money had been there to be made. But she could see now that, outside the thrill and glamour of the chase for the big game fish, it had all been too much like hard work for Andy. He wanted easy pickings, and no slog over bookkeeping or maintenance.

In retrospect, she could see she should have been warned that all might not be as it seemed. Except that she hadn’t allowed herself time to think—or to wonder what she might be getting into.

Oh, his proposition that she should invest in his business had come at exactly the right moment, she thought, her mouth twisting in self-derision. And when you’re thrown a lifeline, you don’t always check the rope for durability. You’re just too thankful to be rescued.

Dear God—some rescue! As she’d come back to the boat that day, weary and disheartened by lack of success in finding their business the new shore premises it needed, she had already known that persuading Andy to sit down and talk through their current difficulties would present a mammoth problem.

So, she’d not anticipated an easy time. She had, however, expected that he’d be there. Not that she’d find the revolting Dirk Clemmens waiting for her down in the saloon, a bottle of bourbon open on the table in front of him beside a sheaf of papers.

Of all their clients, this wealthy South African had been her least favourite. She’d loathed the way he made any excuse to touch her, brushing past her unnecessarily close. Making sure their hands met when she passed him a drink or served food. She didn’t like the friends he brought with him either, overweight and loud-mouthed. Or the girls who lay around sun-bathing, wearing only thongs when not completely naked.

Andy’s mouth had curled, however, when she’d complained about Clemmens and his groping. ‘Why should you care?’ he’d demanded sullenly. ‘We both know he’s on a hiding to nothing with you, sweetheart.’

And, suddenly, inexplicably, the burly South African had been right there, back on the boat, and she’d seemed to be alone with him, which had bewildered her as well as filling her with an odd sense of foreboding. But she’d hidden it well, keeping her voice cool. ‘Where’s Andy?’

‘Oh, he’s gone.’ He sounded almost casual. ‘We did a deal, chickie, and I’m now the new owner—in full possession.’ He had soft pink lips that always looked wet, and he stretched them now in an ingratiating smile. ‘Welcome back.’

Laine had stayed very still. She said quietly, ‘There must be some mistake. Andy and I were partners.’

‘Yeah, he told me. Sleeping partners.’ He gave a lascivious chuckle. ‘Which suits me just fine—so let’s keep the arrangement going, shall we?’ He pushed a glass towards her. ‘Sit down, honey. Have a drink while we discuss your—duties, eh?’

She said desperately, ‘But surely he must have left me a message of some kind?’

‘Yeah, he did. Now, how did he put it?’ He pretended to think for a moment. ‘Oh, I remember. He said to tell you, “So long, honey, and don’t think it wasn’t nice.”’

The shock of what he was saying brought bile into her throat, but it seemed wiser to take a seat while she tried to assimilate the full horror of Andy’s defection, and this resultant change in her circumstances.

She poured some whisky into her glass, and took a minimal sip as she waited for her mind to stop reeling.

Andy, she thought. Andy—whom she’d trusted—had done this to her. Had cheated her, stolen from her, and left her to this creature, whom he knew she hated. Was this his idea of revenge for turning him down—to abandon her to the mercies of a man whom she knew wouldn’t take no for an answer?

Was every man she came across going to betray her in some way?

Her stomach churned as she tried to think what to do next. Her instinct was screaming to her to make a dash for it, but, although Clemmens was a big man, he was light on his feet, and she wasn’t sure she could out-run him. And the thought of being caught by him—subdued—was terrifying.

No she would have to be more clever than that. Besides, she couldn’t simply leave empty-handed. Her wallet, with what ready money she possessed, was with her in her shoulder bag, but her passport was in her cabin with the rest of her things, and she needed it.

However, he’d clearly been celebrating his purchase, and this could work in her favour. She’d seen him drink before and, despite appearances and his own bragging, he didn’t have the hardest head in Miami.

She waited until he started shuffling through the papers, muttering with satisfaction, then swiftly tipped her drink down her skirt. It felt horribly clammy, and she immediately stank of spirits, but she could only hope Clemmens had imbibed enough himself not to notice that.

She poured another modest amount for herself, then refilled his glass, pushing it within easy reach. His fingers closed round it, and he drank.

He wiped his mouth with his fist, belched, and looked at her. ‘Andy tells me that once you’re in the sack you’re not nearly as prim and proper as you make out, sweetie.’ He laughed again. ‘I sure hope that’s true, because I pay by results.’

She smiled at him. Raised her glass in a semi-toast. ‘Then I trust you’re prepared to be generous, Mr Clemmens.’

Andy, you total bastard! Whatever you’ve done with the money, you could have spared me this—animal.

She sipped, then sent the rest over her skirt, as he splashed more bourbon into his glass, spattering his papers in the process.

He swore. ‘Get a cloth.’

She obeyed reluctantly, hoping he wouldn’t notice her damp skirt. But he simply grabbed the cloth from her hand, and began to dab clumsily at the top document.

‘God, it’s hot in here.’ He ran a finger round the collar of his polo shirt. ‘Isn’t there a fan or something?’

‘There used to be.’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe Andy took it with him.’

‘No, he took nothing but the asking price. I saw to that.’

Her heart skipped a beat, but her tone held nothing but indifference. ‘Then it’ll be somewhere in the guest quarters.’

‘Well, don’t just sit there.’ He leaned back against the cushioned seat, closing his eyes. ‘Get it.’

Laine rose and picked up her bag from the side of her chair. Was it really going to be this easy?

She went straight to the tiny space she’d occupied since she came on board, and changed swiftly out of her ruined skirt into a pair of white jeans.

She retrieved her passport, and thrust as much as she could carry into the smaller of her two travel bags, knowing that she needed to travel light.

Then, soft-footed, she went up on deck. She’d just stepped on to the gangplank when Dirk Clemmens’ voice sounded just behind her. ‘Where d’you think you’re going, chickie? You come here, now, like a good girl.’

As he reached for her Laine ran, hurling herself headlong on to the dock. Clemmens, panting close behind, made a grab for her but missed, and, bawling with rage, overbalanced and fell flat.

Laine, landing awkwardly, twisted her ankle, but kept going somehow, biting her lip against the pain. A glance over her shoulder showed that a small crowd was already gathering round Clemmens, who was trying to sit up.

She heard his voice like a wounded bull. ‘Stop her—she’s a thief.’ But she didn’t falter, or slacken her pace. She received a few curious looks, but no one attempted to detain her.

She turned abruptly and dodged into a bar that she knew, and made her way through the groups of drinkers as if on her way to the women’s room. Once at the rear, she took the emergency exit instead, finding herself in a quiet backstreet.

However, she’d shot her bolt, and she knew it. She was limping heavily now, and her ankle was swelling up like a balloon, so she hailed the first cruising cab she saw and asked to be taken to the airport.

And now here I am, she thought mirthlessly, as she climbed out of the bath and swathed herself in a towel. Out of the frying pan, straight into the inferno.

She towelled herself down swiftly, then rubbed the excess moisture from her hair and combed it back from her face with her fingers, grimacing as she remembered that her hairdryer was one of the items she’d been forced to abandon on the boat.

But I had a spare one here, she thought, getting back into her robe. I kept it in my dressing table.

Will it still be there—and do I have the nerve to check?

Yet, it was safe enough, she assured herself. Daniel was at the office, and she was surely entitled to retrieve her own property?

She limped across the living area, pushed open the door of her bedroom, and went cautiously inside—only to pause with a small, shocked gasp as she looked around her.

Because it was unrecognisable. The pretty wallpaper with its delicate tracery of honeysuckle had been painted over in plain ivory, and her pale yellow silk bedcover had been replaced by something far more austere in dark brown. The curtains were brown too, and even the bedside rugs had been changed.

Every trace of her, every charming personal touch that her earnings from the gallery had provided, seemed to have been deliberately erased.

They say you shouldn’t go back, she thought, because you’ll find the space you occupied has gone.

And I’m suddenly beginning to feel as if I no longer exist.

As if everything I loved most has been taken away from me. My father first, when I was a baby, then Simon, and eventually Abbotsbrook. Maybe it was never the sanctuary I imagined, and my last memories of it were pretty hideous, but it held a kind of security all the same.

I always thought one day I’d go back, and somehow rediscover everything that was precious from my childhood.

She bit her lip. Oh, come on, now, she adjured herself impatiently. You’re here to dry your hair, not collapse into sentimentality.

She took a breath, then raised her head and looked across the room into the dressing table mirror. If Daniel hadn’t changed, there was little difference in her either. Her hair was still mousy, albeit streaked by the sun, and her figure remained like a stick. Her eyes would always be more grey than green, although she did have her mother’s cheekbones, which perhaps redeemed her face from being totally nondescript.

But not a great deal to set, all the same, against Daniel’s known preferences in womankind. The glamorous leggy blondes with the knowing eyes who’d made her adolescence miserable.

Or Candida, she thought, flinching as she recalled the sultry mouth, the body that swayed inside its clothes as if impatient to be free of them, and the sweet husky voice like poisoned honey.

How could any man resist her?

Deep within her something twisted in renewed agony, and she heard herself gasp.

‘Do not,’ she said aloud, her voice vehement. ‘Do not go there.’

But it was too late. And suddenly it was all too much, the throb in her ankle swamped by this other fiercer pain. She was alone, broke and scared. And she’d been through forty-eight hours of sheer trauma only to find a different kind of hell waiting for her in the place that should have been her refuge.

And Laine put her hands over her face, sank down on the edge of that immaculately smooth, alien bed, and wept, her whole body shaking with her sobs, until she had no more tears left.