Act of Betrayal (17 page)

filled room, Jason's face. Watching her. She thought, 'I'm

imagining things. He can't be there. I'm in such a state I'm

hallucinating. Inventing him.' Then the crowd shifted and she saw

the girl with him. Saw the smooth dark hair, the face eager and

warm with laughter lifted to his. It was the first time she'd

ever seen them together in the flesh, and the pain of it stunned

her. She found herself thinking mechanically, 'So that's why

Celia didn't get her call—because he'd decided to pay some

attention to his first love.' Incredulously she watched as they

both rose from their seats. Her hands gripped the edge of the

table so tightly that her knuckles turned white. He was bringing

her over. 'Good evening.' The dark face was enigmatic, the eyes

cool and watchful as he greeted them. Alan was rising, looking

surprised. Laura felt frozen to the spot. Under her lashes, she

stole a look at Clare Marshall, wondering how she was feeling,

how she was responding to Jason's latest cruelty. She had to be

suffering too, as shocked and embarrassed at this enforced

confrontation as Laura was herself. I f so, she was concealing it

well. She seemed at ease, smiling, her face friendly and

interested. Jason said silkily, T don't think you two have met.

Laura, this is Clare Marshall. Clare, this is Laura Caswell.' He

paused. 'My ex-wife,' he added softly. Laura heard Alan's intake

of breath, felt his eyes on her, trying to make sense of what he

had just heard. There was no guilt or embarrassment in Clare

Marshall's face, only a certain wryness in her smile. She said,

'I'd rather guessed that already. How do you do, Laura?' She held

out her hand, and Laura took it like an automaton, stammering the

conventional greeting in reply. There was a deafening silence,

then Laura said jerkily, 'Do you like—this kind of music—Miss

Marshall?' 'It's a long time since I saw a live performance. Not

since my student days, in fact, but I enjoy it yes.' Clare

Marshall said. 'And Jason insisted I had to hear the Wessex

Revellers.' She shrugged. ' I have domestic commitments, so I

don't get out much in the evenings.' Laura said woodenly, 'That's

a shame. Well I hope you enjoy the rest of the concert.' It was

more than she was going to do, if the expression on Alan's face

was anything to go by. She'd watched it change from sheer

incredulity to jealous indignation, and although he was probably

not aware of all the undercurrents seething below the surface of

the exchange, he was clearly going to ask questions. 'Which is

just about to begin,' Jason said smoothly. 'We'd better get back

to our seats.' His smile flicked at Laura. 'I'll be seeing you.'

Alan said furiously, 'What the hell did he mean exwife? What...?'

'Later, please.' Laura tugged imploring at his sweater sleeve,

aware of curious glances from neighbouring tables. The lights

were going down, the applause to greet the Wessex Revellers was

swelling enthusiastically. For a moment, she thought he was going

to walk out, then he subsided back into his chair, his face

sullen. It hadn't been the night of her life, up to that moment,

but now it was totally in ruins, and Jason had done it quite

deliberately. But for what motive? That was the question which

battered at her mind. To punish her for the things she had said

to him earlier? Perhaps but why involve his mistress, force her

into an awkward confrontation that she couldn't have wanted, no

matter how skilfully she'd covered up? Clare Marshall wasn't some

cowed, submissive little creature, so why did she allow herself

to be used like that? Because she loves him, Laura told herself

painfully. Because however strange their relationship, however

unsatisfactory it might seem to an outsider, it must provide

everything Clare Marshall needs, or she would not still be with

him, and with him in an apparently menial position. Fleetingly,

Laura wondered what had happened to the expensive flat. The music

washed over her, unheard. Mechanically, she joined in the

applause at the end of each song, and was eventually aroused by

the jovial whistling and stamping going on around her to the

realisation that the performance was over. 'Let's go,' Alan said

shortly, and got up. Laura hung back. 'There are going to be

encores.' 'I've had enough,' he muttered. 'We have to talk.' He

took her hand, pulling her to her feet. 'Come on.'

He walked across the car park so fast that she almost had to run

to keep up with him, and she could feel her own temper rising.

She said abruptly, 'It might be better if I got a taxi.' He

glared at her. T think you owe me an explanation.' 'Perhaps,' she

said shortly. 'But this may not be the ideal time.' He was

holding the car door open for her. Other people were beginning to

emerge into the car park, and she didn't want a scene, so, biting

her lip, she got into the car. She had expected he would take her

home, but after they had been driving for a few moments, she

realised he was on his way to the cottage. She said, 'Alan, we

can't talk tonight. I'm tired and...' 'And I'm supposed to fall

into line and be a gentleman, and pretend it doesn't matter.' He

spoke jeeringly, his face flushed, 'Well, it does damned well

matter—Miss Caswell,' he added with extra emphasis. 'You've

made a bloody fool of me.' T fail to see how.' Laura shook her

head. With an impatient exclamation, he pulled the wheel over and

brought the car to a stop on the roadside verge. 'It never

occurred to you that the fact you've been married before might be

of interest to me?' he demanded. She sighed. T suppose I would

have told you if our relationship had warranted it. But as things

are . . . ' 'As things are,' he repeated savagely. 'Didn't it

also occur to you that the reason I've allowed you to keep me at

a distance, agreed to play it cool is because I thought you were

an inexperienced girl—not a divorcee?' He made it sound as if

she was Lucrezia Borgia, and she knew a traitorous desire to

giggle, but she restrained it because he was a man with a

grievance, and consequently short on humour. She said, T m sorry.

I didn't intend to deceive you about my marital status. It's

simply a subject I've always preferred not to discuss with

anyone.' 'How long were you married?' He stared through the

windscreen. 'About a year. We divorced by consent at the earliest

legal opportunity,' she said levelly. 'Is there anything else you

need to know?' 'Yes.' He turned and gave her an insolent look.

'I'd like to know why the marriage—broke down as they put it

these days. Did you freeze him off, like you've tried to freeze

me? I thought you were just shy, but perhaps it goes deeper than

that. Perhaps you're frigid. Let's see shall we?' He lunged

across the confined space of the car, dragging her into his arms,

clamping his mouth to hers without finesse. Any fleeting sympathy

she might have had for his confusion vanished instantly, and she

tried to pull away, disgust rising in her as his hand hooked into

the neckline of her dress. She heard a ripping sound, felt the

buttons tear loose. He lifted his head and stared at her, his

eyes fixed greedily on her breasts, barely concealed by the

delicate lace cups of her bra. He said hoarsely, T held back

because I thought you were a virgin. But you're not, Laura.

You've been married to a man like Wingard, so you know what it's

all about.' His tone slurred. 'You must want it sometimes like

I've been wanting you...' He was reaching for her again. With a

kind of desperation, she hit him in the face as hard as she could

with her clenched fist. He gave an agonised yelp, and slumped

back into the driving seat, covering his face with his hands.

With horrified fascination, Laura saw blood begin to seep through

his fingers and realised she must have caught him on the nose.

Again she felt that hysterical laughter welling up inside her.

She opened her bag hastily. 'Here I've got some tissues.' He

mumbled, 'Bitch,' but he took the tissues, pressing them to his

nose. She waited for a few moments, then said, 'Do you want me to

drive?' He glared at her over the tissues. 'No just get out of my

sight.' For a moment, she was taken aback. The last thing she was

expecting was to be stranded miles from home with a torn dress,

but this was clearly what he intended, his sense of grievance

outweighing all other considerations. She said, 'I'm sorry it had

to turn out like this.' Her voice sounded lame. Nothing that had

happened to her seemed to have any basis in reality, although she

supposed her dress gaping open to the waist was real enough. She

hugged her shawl round her and watched him drive away, fumbling

with gears and tissues, then began to walk slowly back the way

she had come. She'd covered about half a mile when she heard the

sound of a car engine behind her, and she stepped on to the

verge, looking back over her' shoulder, hoping against hope that

Alan might have come to his senses and be looking for her. But it

wasn't the small comfortable shape of the Mini which came round

the corner, transfixing her in its headlights like a frightened

moth. It was an altogether more opulent vehicle and it was

stopping, she realised with sudden panic, realising all the

dangers of her situation. She turned precipitately to hurry away,

but one of

her heels sank into the earth of the verge, softened by the

previous night's rain and she stumbled almost on to her knees.

She struggled up, hearing the approaching footsteps. Even before

his hands pulled her to her feet, she knew who it was. Even

before she heard his voice, drawling, mocking 'Running away

again, Laura? Don't you know by this time that there's nowhere

nowhere you can run to?'

A LL the strength, the resistance seemed to have drained out of

her. She let him put her into the front passenger seat of the

Jaguar. He said, as if anticipating the question he knew she

wouldn't ask aloud, 'Clare's gone back to the hotel. One of the

chambermaids is baby-sitting but naturally, she's anxious.'

'Naturally.' Her voice sounded brittle. 'So you decided you'd go

for a moonlight drive in the lanes.' 'No,' he said. ' I saw your

hasty departure, and it occurred to me that he might turn nasty,

so I thought I'd drive over to his cottage and see if you were

there.' 'Thoughtful of you,' she said bitterly. 'What a pity the

possibility of his adverse reaction didn't occur to you earlier,

before you dropped your bombshell.' 'You intended to keep our

marriage as your little secret did you?' he gibed. 'Were you

going to wait till the honeymoon to break the news that he'd

bought secondhand goods?' 'You're vile.' 'And he, of course, has

behaved like a knight in shining armour. That's why he let you

take the long walk home. Or did you think that he'd be content to

go on adoring you from afar?' ^. ' I didn't think of it at all,'

she confessed bleakly. 'We'd never had that kind of

relationship.' 'By your wish, not his, I'm sure.' His mouth

twisted. 'Couldn't you see the way the poor devil was looking at

you?' She shook her head, unable to find words. 'You can hardly

blame him,' he continued harshly.

'It's that special quality you possess, Laura. I've mentioned it

before that air of solitariness and self-containment. Small

wonder if he thought of you as the sleeping princess, and dreamed

of the kiss that would waken you. It must have been gall and

wormwood to know that another man had got you into bed first.'

She winced. 'Don't.' She put her hands over her ears, and the

shawl fell open. She saw his swift downward glance and remembered

too late. He said too softly, T think I'll knock his teeth down

his throat.' 'Oh, no please.' She put a hand on his arm, alarmed.

'There's no need. Nothing happened really.' 'You tore your own

dress ' he said derisively. 'No.' That weird laughter she'd been

trying to suppress all evening came bubbling to the surface. 'But