Innocent on Her Wedding Night (2 page)

‘Actually, no,’ he said. ‘I don’t. Stay—go—it makes no difference to me. Unless you’re deluding yourself that I still harbour some faint inclination for you. If so, think again.’

He paused grimly, watching the helpless colour warm her face. ‘But be aware of this—you’re not going to insult me out of occupation, and an appeal to my better nature won’t work either.’

‘I wasn’t aware you had a better nature.’

‘It’s currently under severe pressure.’ He paused. ‘If you won’t share, you leave. It’s that simple, so make your mind up.’

‘This is my home,’ she said. ‘I have nowhere else to go.’

‘Then do what I did,’ He said. ‘Call in a favour.’ He added with a touch of grimness, ‘Although I suspect that might be difficult. You and your brother probably owe far more goodwill than you can ever repay.’

Laine drew a swift, sharp breath. ‘That is a—loathsome thing to say.’

‘But realistic.’ He gave her a level look. ‘So, if you’ve finally decided that here is better than a corner of Cardboard City, I suggest you stop arguing and start getting organised, because it could be a lengthy business.

‘And if you want to eat, you’ll also have to shop, because I’m not funding your food. We’ll discuss sharing the other bills later.’

He turned to go. ‘And don’t ask for your room back,’ he added. ‘As a refusal often offends.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Laine said between her teeth. ‘After all, in a few weeks you’ll be gone, and until that happy day I’ll camp in Jamie’s room.’

His grin was sardonic. ‘Prior to having this place fumigated and the bed ritually burned, no doubt.’

‘My own thoughts precisely,’ she threw after him as the door closed.

For a moment she stood where she was, staring at the wooden panels. It’s a nightmare, she told herself. That’s all. And presently I’ll wake up to find it’s over, and then I can start putting my life back together again.

She was trembling so violently inside that all she wanted to do was let herself sink down on to the floor and stay there. But Daniel could re-emerge at any moment, and the last thing she wanted was to be found crouching on the stripped and polished floorboards at his feet like some small wounded animal.

She’d never thought she would see him again. Or not face to face like this, anyway. Had told herself that he was out of her life for always. Deliberately put herself at such a distance that she would be spared the pain of even an accidental glimpse of him. Promised herself that, gradually, the memories of everything that had happened between them would begin to fade, and she would find some kind of peace.

Yet here he was again, and all the shame and the trauma of their shared past were still as vivid and as painful as ever.

I haven’t forgotten a thing, she thought. And neither has he.

She passed the tip of her tongue over her dry lips. Faint inclination. That was the phrase he’d used, and it had bitten into her consciousness like acid dripping on metal.

Because that was as much as it had ever been. All the helpless passion—the feverish longing—had been on her side alone.

But I can’t let him think it still matters to me, she told herself. I dare not.

I have to convince him that it’s all over for me too. That I’ve grown up and moved on.

She waited until her heartbeat had steadied, and her breathing rate had calmed a little, then made her way slowly over to Jamie’s room, favouring her damaged ankle as she went.

She turned the handle and made to push the door open, but it resisted stubbornly, as if there was some obstruction behind it. Laine put her shoulder to it, managing to create a gap just wide enough to give her access, and squeezed through it, wincing.

Then stopped dead, with a gasp of sheer dismay.

Because this was no longer a bedroom, but a landfill site. Every inch of space seemed to be occupied by something. There were stacks of boxes on the floor, next to crates of books and CDs, and a row of suitcases, elderly and unmatching.

The bed’s bare mattress, she saw incredulously, was covered by the entire contents of her own wardrobe. And the blockage behind the door had been caused by an over-stuffed black binliner which had apparently fallen from a similar pile.

As if in a dream, Laine reached down and lifted it back into place.

Cardboard City, she thought, was right here, waiting for her.

It would take hours, she realised limply, to clear sufficient space just to cross the room. As for the leisurely bath and so-needed sleep—well, that was going to remain just a dream for the foreseeable future.

To her horror, she felt her eyes burning with sudden tears. After all the ghastliness with Andy, to come home to this! Plus bloody Daniel Flynn.

A lengthy business. His own words—the rotten bastard.

Because he’d known exactly what she was going to find here. These things weren’t Jamie’s, so they had to be his. He was sleeping in her room, and using this as his private dumping ground.

‘If I could only get to the window,’ she muttered furiously, crushing down any lingering remnants of self-pity. ‘I’d throw the whole sodding lot into the street.’

He’d emptied everything she possessed on to the bed—even her underwear—and the thought made her cringe. She’d wash and iron every single item before she allowed any of them anywhere near her, she promised herself grimly.

But if he thought she was going to deal with this appalling mess alone, he could think again. He was not going to get away with it, she vowed as she limped back across the living room and banged on the door.

It was flung open almost immediately, and Daniel confronted her unsmilingly. The towel had been replaced by a pair of jeans, but he was still barefoot and bare-chested, and Laine felt her mouth dry as unwanted memory pierced her.

‘What now?’ he demanded.

‘That other room,’ she said huskily, ‘is a pigsty. A tip. And I want to know what you intend to do about it.’

‘Nothing,’ he returned curtly. ‘Not my tip. Not my problem.’

Laine gasped. ‘What the hell do you mean? It’s packed to the ceiling with your surplus belongings, and I want them moved. Now.’

‘The true voice of command.’ His mouth curled. ‘Your seafaring days haven’t been wasted. What’s next on the agenda, Captain? A little light keel-hauling?’

She jerked a thumb in the direction of the room behind her. ‘That is now my half of the flat,’ she said. ‘And I want it cleared.’

‘Then I suggest you get started.’ He sounded faintly bored. ‘Although God knows where you’re going to put it all. And—just for the record—nothing in that room is mine. Some of the things belong to your brother, but most of it he’s storing for someone called Sandra. I believe she went with him to New York.’

‘Jamie left them?’ She stared at him. ‘Left me to cope with that terrible mess? Oh, he couldn’t have done. He wouldn’t…’ Her voice trailed away.

‘No?’ His smile was cynical. ‘If you wish to take the matter up with him, I can give you his number in Manhattan.’

‘Please don’t trouble yourself,’ she said crisply. ‘I’ll manage.’

She’d planned to wheel round and march away with dignity, but in mid-turn her ankle gave a jab of pain so fierce that she yelped aloud and faltered.

‘Going for the sympathy vote, Laine? It won’t work.’

But neither would her ankle, she realised, taking a deep breath as she gingerly tested her weight on it and winced uncontrollably.

‘What’s the matter?’ One swift stride brought him to her, his hand under her elbow.

‘Don’t touch me.’ She tried to pull away, but he’d seen the bandage and his grip tightened.

‘What the hell have you done to yourself?’ He sounded resigned.

‘My ankle’s twisted, that’s all,’ she said shortly. ‘Please leave me alone, and don’t fuss.’

‘I’m not the one squawking with pain.’

To her horror, Daniel picked her up and carried her to one of the long sofas that flanked the fireplace, placing her on the cushions. It was the work of a moment, but it forced an all-too potent reminder of the cool, clean scent of his bare skin into her consciousness.

Oh, God, she thought, a feeling akin to panic unravelling inside her, I don’t need this…

He knelt, and began to undo the bandage.

She said tautly, ‘I can manage by myself.’

His glance was ironic. ‘Now who’s making the fuss?’

Laine subsided, flushing mutinously. She stared over his shoulder, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, her nerve-endings jangling as Daniel frowningly examined the swollen joint.

‘When did you do this?’

She hunched a shoulder. ‘The other day.’

‘You should have rested it at once,’ he said tersely. ‘So start now.’ He rose lithely and went into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a plastic bag filled with ice cubes. ‘Here. Hold this against it.’

She complied reluctantly, her expression rebellious as Daniel tied it on with the discarded bandage.

‘Thank you,’ she said tautly when his task was completed.

‘No need for gratitude,’ He said caustically as he straightened. ‘I have a vested interest in seeing that you have both legs in good working order. Job hunting requires a lot of exercise, and you need to start earning without delay.’

She lifted her chin. ‘Please don’t worry. I’ve always paid my way.’

‘Not always,’ he said softly. ‘But these days I prefer cash, rather than kind.

It’s more reliable.’

She was rigid. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘Work it out for yourself,’ He said coldly, and disappeared back to the kitchen, leaving her gasping in fury. When he returned, he was carrying a glass of water on a saucer, with two capsules lying beside it.

‘Here,’ he said. ‘Take these.’

‘What are they?’

‘Painkillers,’ he said with a hint of acid. ‘Don’t worry. You won’t wake up in two days’ time in some Middle Eastern brothel.’

If you knew, she thought, as she reluctantly swallowed the capsules, and handed back the glass. If you had the least idea of what’s happened in the past few days, then perhaps you’d understand why I’m strung on wires. But you don’t—and anyway you’re the last person in the world that I could ever tell.

He was looking at her frowningly. ‘Have you eaten?’

‘There was food on the plane,’ she returned evasively. She hadn’t touched any of it. She’d felt sick to her stomach, as well as sick at heart, her mind going in dazed circles as she tried to make sense of what Andy had done. The brutal extent of his betrayal.

And to come reeling out of hell, after all she’d been through, to find this man of all men waiting for her was the final shattering blow.

He paused. ‘I’m going to make coffee. Do you want some?’

Laine shook her head. ‘No—thank you.’

She leaned back against the cushions, closing her eyes. Blocking him out physically would be a start, she thought wearily. The beginning of a long, uphill struggle to free herself from him, and the memories he evoked, which, incredibly, still had the power to devastate even two long years further on.

But her senses still told her when he moved away, and how pathetic was that? How could she be so aware of a man who’d deliberately and cynically betrayed her? Who’d destroyed her self-esteem and her trust, along with the first delirious ache of first love. A love that had left her in small pieces, unfulfilled and almost destroyed.

But she couldn’t let herself think about that. Not now. Not ever. She had other far more important considerations to deal with—like finding work.

As he’d so charmingly indicated, she thought, gritting her teeth.

She could hear the distant chink of crockery as he moved around in the kitchen, and shifted restlessly on the cushions.

Oh, God, these coming weeks were going to be the kind of agony that no painkillers could ever touch, but, whatever her feelings, she couldn’t afford to move out immediately, and he probably knew it.

She’d always hoped that if they ever met again by some mischance, far in the future, she’d be so bolstered by her own success—her own happiness—that she could look him in the eye with indifference.

But Fate had planned it otherwise.

She had no idea how much money she had in her bank account, but it couldn’t be much. And she’d used the last remaining bit of credit on her card to buy her ticket home, so that was another bill she could expect eventually.

And now, with Jamie gone, she couldn’t even beg a temporary loan.

I think I’ve just hit rock bottom, she thought. Unless there’s another layer they haven’t mentioned.

‘Don’t go to sleep, Laine.’ His voice made her jump. ‘Try and switch yourself to London time, or you could be jet-lagged for days.’

She opened reluctant eyes and looked at him. He was holding out a beaker.

‘I suggest you drink this. You need the caffeine to get you started.’

She said haughtily, ‘If this is intended as some kind of olive branch…’

‘I know. I can stick it where the sun don’t shine. But don’t worry. It’s not peace I’m offering—more an armed truce. Now, take it.’

She bit her lip, and obeyed with open reluctance. The brew it contained was black and strong without sugar, just as she liked it, which somehow made acceptance even more galling.

He sat down on the sofa opposite, stretching out long legs, observing her narrow-eyed. ‘And what are your career plans now that boat chartering has hit the rocks?’

She stiffened defensively. ‘I didn’t actually say that.’

‘You didn’t have to. You hardly came in whistling A life on the ocean wave.’

She took another sip of coffee while she tried to think of an acceptable approximation of the truth. ‘Let’s just say that my partner and I discovered we had irreconcilable differences and leave it at that.’

Daniel’s brows lifted sardonically. ‘Well, that has a familiar ring,’ He commented, making her wince inwardly. ‘Is this a final breach, or more of a decree nisi?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Is it over, or only over unless—or until—he comes grovelling on his knees for forgiveness?’

Her stomach gave a sudden crazy lurch. ‘That won’t happen. And I’d rather not discuss it any further.’

‘A Sinclair family trait,’ he said softly. ‘Leaving all kinds of things unsaid.