A Woman of Substance (77 page)

Emma looked at him and bit her lip. She sighed. ‘Yes, it is.’

‘I guessed as much. But I still don’t understand why you are rushing off.’

‘Because he’s getting to be a nuisance and, anyway, I don’t particularly like him.’

‘Emma! How can you say that! If you don’t like him, why have you spent so much time with him? Every night, as far as I can gather. The theatre, dinners, parties, and luncheons, too. I’ve hardly seen you alone, and I must say you have certainly given the impression you are mesmerized by him.’

‘That’s not true, Frank Harte!’

Frank shook his head and looked out of the taxi window. He brought his eyes back to Emma. After a moment’s reflection he said, ‘He’s fallen for you like a ton of bricks.’

‘Oh, phooey!’

‘Yes, he has. I can tell. Everyone who sees the two of you together can tell. He positively devours you with his eyes. And I know
you
like
him
, Emma.’

‘Frank, will you please leave me alone.’

‘Give me a good reason why you don’t want to see him any more.’

‘Because he’s too charming, too handsome, too fascinating. And too much—for me to handle. Besides—’ She broke off, her voice faltering.

‘Besides what?’

‘I’m afraid I’ll get more involved if I stay.’

‘I knew it! But surely you mean fall in love with him, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice was a whisper.

Frank took her hand. ‘Does he know you’re leaving?’

‘No. There’s a note for him at the Ritz. He’ll get it tonight when he comes to collect me.’

‘That wasn’t a very nice thing to do to the poor chap.’

‘It was the
only
thing to do. Now, darling, please shut up about Paul McGill. And tell the taxi driver to hurry. I’ll miss my train.’

Calculating of brain though she was, Emma could be impulsive of heart and especially when her deepest emotions were involved, and she had acted on impulse the day she had returned with such abruptness to Yorkshire. Recognizing that she was falling under the spell of the magnetic Paul McGill, she had fled, propelled by panic and fear.

Long ago, Emma had come to the conclusion that she was unlucky where men were concerned. They either hurt her or she hurt them. Her relationships had never been balanced. She doubted that she could ever inflict pain on the self-assured Paul McGill, but he was a terrible threat to
her.
Contentment with her life, such as it was at this moment, was at stake. She could not afford to risk emotional upheaval. Only in business was she prepared to gamble.

But now, after two days, she was beginning to feel perplexed by his total silence. Aren’t you also a little disappointed? a small voice nudged at the back of her mind, and she smiled wryly, her eyes straying to the telephone. Perhaps you are, but you’re also relieved, she said inwardly, and looked down at the latest report from the Emeremm Company. Almost immediately her attention wandered again, her thoughts returning to Paul.

He had danced attendance on her every day for two weeks. He had been charming, gallant, and amusing, and a gentleman, more or less. He
had
taken her in his arms and his kisses had been sensual and his passions had been fully inflamed. She knew that he was aware that he had aroused the same desire in her, but ultimately he held himself in check. He had made no untoward proposals or attempted to seduce her, and his constraint had baffled her, despite her profound relief at this display of chivalry.

She shivered, recalling his amorous embraces, and instantly crushed down the memory of him. He had apparently forgotten
her
immediately. Or perhaps he was stinging from the blow to his pride. For a proud devil he was and his self-esteem had more than likely been seriously damaged. She was positive no other woman had ever run out on him. So much for Major McGill, she thought. He’s dangerous and disturbing. Nevertheless, disappointment flared again and she shook her head, musing on her own inconsistencies, and then brought her eyes back to the papers. Her business needed her undivided attention.

Gladys knocked and came in quietly, looking pink and flustered. ‘You have a visitor, Mrs Harte,’ she said, hovering in front of the desk.

‘I don’t have any appointments this morning.’ Emma frowned. ‘What’s the matter, Gladys? You look very fluttery—’ Emma paused and her heart missed a beat. She guessed what Gladys would say. Only one person in this world could bring that special look to a woman’s eyes.

‘It’s a Major McGill, Mrs Harte. He said you weren’t expecting him but that you would see him anyway.’

Emma nodded, her face inscrutable. ‘Yes, of course I will see him, Gladys.’

He strode in, closed the door firmly behind him, and leaned against it. He was wearing a trench coat over his uniform and his cap was pushed rakishly to one side. He was carrying a picnic basket in one hand but he was no longer using the stick.

Paul gave Emma a hard look. ‘Coward,’ he said.

‘What are you doing in Yorkshire?’ Emma managed unsteadily. Her heart was pounding and her legs had turned to water.

‘I’ve come to have lunch with you.’ He held up his hand and wagged a finger at her. ‘I know, don’t say it. You always eat lunch in the office.’ He glanced down at the basket. ‘I anticipated that and brought a picnic. So you have no excuse. I can’t answer for the Metropole’s food, but the champagne is Dom Pérignon.’

‘That’s very enterprising of you,’ she said quietly, recovering some of her composure.

‘Yes, isn’t it just!’ He put the basket on the chair, threw his cap after it, and limped across the floor. He put both of his
hands on the desk and leaned forward, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on her pale face. ‘You ran away. You were frightened,’ he said.

Unable to deny it, she did not respond.

‘Who were you afraid of? Me? Or yourself?’ he demanded, his voice unexpectedly harsh.

‘I don’t know.’ She looked down at the desk. ‘Of you, I suppose.’

‘You silly little fool! Don’t you know I’m in love with you!’

He came around the desk and pulled her into his arms, his grip powerful and crushing, his mouth hard and unrelenting on hers. Emma could not resist. Her arms went around him and she returned his kisses, the excitement he aroused in her manifest again, racing through her like fire. Her head swam and she was assailed by a weakness that trickled into her thighs. He pulled away suddenly, as he had done so often in the past, and gazed down at her. He tilted her face to his. His eyes, so darkly violet they looked as black as the brows curving above them, were filled with seriousness.

Paul shook his head. ‘Did you think a few hundred miles would discourage me?’ He laughed. ‘I’m an Australian. Distance means nothing to me. And you haven’t learned much else about me, Emma, have you? Or you would know I’m very tenacious.’ He put his arm around her, hugging her to him, and laughed again. ‘What am I going to do with you, my Emma? My stubborn, wilful, but adorable Emma. Tame you? But I wonder, would a bridle sit well on you, my sweet?’

Emma clung to his trench coat. She was speechless and her mind was chaotic. What had he said? That he was in love with her. Her heart was tight and her legs shook and she dare not open her mouth. If she did she knew she would tell him that she loved him, too.

Paul seemed unconcerned by her silence. He said, ‘First of all, we are going to have lunch. Then you are going to show me around your store. After that I want to see Layton’s mill.’ He grinned that engaging lopsided grin, and said, ‘Later I want to meet your children and I hope you will invite me to stay to dinner. You wouldn’t abandon a lonely soldier to an evening by himself in this godforsaken city, would you?’

Emma shook her head.

‘We’re in agreement, then?’

‘Yes, Paul,’ she whispered, and her voice was surprisingly meek.

Paul McGill stayed in Yorkshire for three days and during that time Emma came to know a very different side of him. In London she had felt there was a deep core of sincerity in him, and although he had often given the impression he lacked the inner conviction to remain serious for very long, she had suspected otherwise. She was not wrong. That thoughtful side was now revealed to her. He was also a gentle man, a characteristic that was displayed most obviously with her children. He listened attentively to Edwina, responding with kindness to her questions about Australia, and he treated Kit like an equal. Kit hung on his every word, and was thrilled when Paul took him sledging down the drive and played with his trains in the nursery.

It seemed to Emma that Paul brought out the very best in her children, and even Edwina, always so distant, emerged from her shell under his vivacious influence. Emma watched Paul closely, revelling in his genuine interest in her family, but she frequently noticed a curiously yearning look flickering in those violet eyes when he believed he was unobserved. She speculated on the reason for it and wondered about this extraordinary man who was so contradictory and compelling.

The day he departed he said, ‘I don’t have very much time left, Emma. I’ll be going back to France shortly. Will you come and visit me in London? Very soon?’

Emma did not think twice. ‘Yes,’ she said, smiling up at him.

He touched her cheek lightly. ‘When?’

‘I have a meeting tomorrow morning. But I could come the day after. On Friday.’

‘Couldn’t you make it tomorrow afternoon? Time is running out.’

‘All right, then.’

He tilted her face to his. ‘Are you sure about this, Emma?’

‘Yes, I am.’ As she spoke she knew that she had made a commitment to him.

It was a bitterly cold February evening and drizzling when Emma stepped off the train at King’s Cross. She saw him before he saw her. He was standing at the ticket barrier, the cap pushed back at the same jaunty angle, the collar of his trench coat turned up. Her heart leapt and she began to run. It was undignified but she could not help herself. She did not stop until she was in his arms, breathless and laughing, her face resplendent with happiness.

He held her close, told her she looked beautiful, found the porter with her luggage, and bustled her into his father’s car, taking command in his usual way. As they drove through the evening traffic Emma became aware of a difference in Paul, and although he held her hand and chatted to her casually, his voice light, she sensed a disquiet under the surface. It was a controlled tension but, nonetheless, quite evident to her.

The Daimler came to a standstill before they reached the Ritz Hotel, where Emma was staying. Paul said, ‘I’m going to get out here and walk the rest of the way.’

She stared at him. ‘But why?

He grinned. ‘I know how circumspect you are. I would hate to compromise you the moment you arrive. Check in alone and I’ll join you for a drink in an hour. Anyway, you need a little privacy. Time to change and bathe.’

‘Very well. In an hour, then.’

He nodded, jumped out, and slammed the door. Emma sat back against the seat, touched by his thoughtfulness. And then she suffered such a sharp sense of loss, and acute loneliness, she was jolted. How silly she was being. She would see him very shortly.

The sitting room of the suite overlooked Green Park. A fire blazed in the grate, the lamps had been turned on, and there were masses of flowers everywhere, all of them from Paul, Emma discovered on reading the amusing messages on the white cards, reposing in each arrangement. She smiled with delight but did not pause long to admire. She hurriedly unpacked, hung up her clothes, and took a bath in the huge marble tub.

The bath dispelled the chill in her bones and revitalized her, and Emma slipped into a white silk robe and sat down at the
dressing table, humming under her breath, feeling happier than she had in years. She brushed out her long hair until it gleamed in the lamplight and slowly began to coil it on top of her head. She was pushing the last hairpin into the coil when she tensed and remained perfectly still, experiencing the strange sensation that she was not alone. She swung her head slowly and jumped back in the chair. Paul was leaning casually against the door of the bedroom, his legs crossed, a glass in his hand, observing her with great concentration.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I should have knocked,’ he said. ‘You make a very pretty picture, my sweet.’

‘How did you get in?’ Emma gasped.

‘Why, through the door of course.’ He strolled over to the dressing table and placed a small jewel case in front of her. ‘These are for you,’ he said. ‘Put them on.’

Emma threw him a quick, puzzled glance and opened the case. The emerald earrings shimmered like pools of green fire against the black velvet and she drew in her breath. ‘Oh, Paul! They’re beautiful.’ She frowned. ‘But I can’t possibly accept them. They are far too valuable.’

‘Put them on,’ he ordered.

Emma’s hands trembled as she screwed the emeralds into her ears. She gazed at Paul through the mirror. ‘They are incredible. How did you know emeralds are my favourite stone?’

He smiled. ‘I didn’t. But with eyes your colour you should only wear emeralds. See how they echo the light in your eyes.’ He put down his drink and cupped his hands underneath her chin and, tilting her head back, he bent forward and kissed her forehead. ‘If you don’t accept them I’ll be terribly offended. I might never speak to you again.’

‘In that case I suppose I must. But it was very extravagant of you.’ She smiled at him tenderly. ‘Thank you, Paul.’

He moved away from her. ‘Come into the other room and have a drink,’ he said, pausing at the door.

‘I’ll just put my dress on.’

‘No, don’t bother. I want to talk to you. You’re decent enough.’

Emma pulled the white silk robe around her and followed
him, feeling self-conscious, but concerned by his tone and unable to protest. He sounded grave and her heart sank. Was he leaving sooner than expected for France? Was that the reason for his tension? When she walked into the sitting room she saw immediately how he had managed to enter the suite so silently. The door at the far end was open and beyond she could see another identical suite. She faltered, unprepared for such an intimate arrangement and unnerved by the implication.

‘So that’s how you got in,’ she remarked, and there was a hint of anger in her voice.

He ignored the comment. ‘I’m drinking scotch, but I know you prefer wine. I’ll get you a glass of champagne.’

Her eyes followed him as he strode out, and her resentment spilled over into quiet rage. Paul had assumed too much. Assumed she would be an eager and willing partner in this—this—little game of his. She bit her lip. She was being inconsistent again. Had she not known when she stepped on to the train earlier in the day that there would be no going back. This scene now being enacted should not shock her. It was exactly what he had intended from the beginning, and anticipated once she had agreed to come back to London. And she had probably led him to believe it would be so.

Paul returned with the champagne, interrupting her racing thoughts. He handed her the glass and sat down opposite her, and as if he had read those thoughts, he said, ‘I don’t blame you for being angry, Emma. I know you’re also upset and uncomfortable as well, aren’t you?’

She did not answer him, but stared down at the glass and took a fast sip to hide her nervousness.

‘I’m a damn fool. It was presumptuous of me and now I apologize for that presumption. I feel quite certain you understood what my intentions were when you saw that open door and the other suite. Seduction, of course. I had planned it all very carefully for weeks.’ His mouth lifted in a small self-deprecatory smile. ‘I’m not too subtle, am I? However, I realized in the car that I had manoeuvred you into a situation which you would have great difficulty extracting yourself from. So, I am going to do that for you.’ Paul went on, ‘I am going to finish this drink and then I am going to walk through that door.
You will lock it. When you are dressed I will come and fetch you. We will go out to dinner. No obligations. Now, or later. All right?’