Running From the Storm (15 page)

Suddenly ashamed of her outburst, she said, ‘No, of course not. I’m sorry.’ Then before he could crow any more she went on, ‘But you
are
to blame for insisting on staying here.’

‘May I point out that if you
had
stayed here neither of us would be in the state we’re in? But, rather than stand arguing, I suggest we get ourselves dried.’

‘What on?’ she asked raggedly. ‘A sheepskin rug?’

‘I think a towel might be a better bet.’ He opened one of the linen cupboards and took out a big white towel. ‘You can even have a different colour, if you prefer.’

‘Full marks,’ she muttered, savagely sarcastic. ‘You seem able to produce everything that’s needed.’

‘Not quite everything. A change of clothes, though perhaps not essential as we know each other so well, would have been handy.’

Watching her bite her lip, he added, ‘But in the circumstances we’ll have to manage with a bathrobe. And I’m afraid that this time you don’t have a choice. It’s navy-blue or nothing.’

‘My favourite colour!’

He raised an eyebrow. Handing her a folded robe, he suggested, ‘If you want to strip off by the stove where it’s warmer, I’ll use the bathroom. Unless you’d like me to stay here with you?’

‘No, I wouldn’t!’

Grinning at her vehemence, he took a towel, one of the robes and departed.

As soon as the door had closed behind him, Caris removed her sodden shoes and her ruined tights, peeled off her wet clothes and dried herself thoroughly before donning the towelling robe and belting it securely.

It was a man’s robe and much too big for her, but it was blessedly warm, and once she had turned up the sleeves it was comfortable to wear.

Having searched in her handbag for a comb, she removed the pins from what remained of her knot, towelled her long hair, combed out the tangles and left it loose around her shoulders to finish drying.

Then all at once reaction set in. Her legs feeling scarcely able to support her, she abandoned her saturated belongings by the hearth and, with a weird feeling that she was reliving a scene that had taken place almost three years ago at Owl Lodge, resumed her seat close to the fire.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SHE had barely sat down when Zander reappeared wearing a matching robe and queried solicitously, ‘Feeling warmer now?’

Holding back her anger and frustration, she answered stiffly, ‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Good.’ He was carrying his own wet things and when he had gathered hers up too he headed for the deep porcelain sink.

After removing as much water as possible from the garments, he hung them on a slatted airer suspended from the ceiling, commenting, ‘The air’s quite warm now, so with a bit of luck they should soon start to dry. Though it’s going to take some time,’ he added as he pulled the wooden contraption up and secured the cord.

Caris gritted her teeth. Events seemed to be repeating themselves. It was as though she had been caught in some kind of time-warp and travelled back three years.

When she remained silent, he glanced at her; noticing the blood still oozing from the grazes, he remarked, ‘Your legs are still bleeding; I’d better take a look.’

‘There’s no need,’ she said sharply. ‘It’s only a few scrapes.’

‘They may need cleaning; earlier I noticed some antiseptic pads and cream in one of the drawers.’

Having located both items, he came to stand in front of her. ‘Let me see.’

Knowing only too well that he wasn’t about to take no for an answer, she held the robe closely around her thighs and reluctantly stretched out her legs.

Zander squatted down in front of her and began to wipe away the blood and gently clean the grazes on her knees and shins.

She stared down at his well-shaped head, his damp, slightly rumpled hair and neatly set ears. With a tug at her heartstrings, she recalled a previous occasion when he had crouched at her feet and played the role of nurse.

She also recalled, with a sudden flare of alarm, the unprecedented effect it had had on her.

But even as she told herself that things were very different this time—that she wouldn’t let his nearness, the touch of his hands, move her in the slightest—she felt that old familiar warmth rising inside her.

He glanced up and smiled a little, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling.

Her face growing hot, she looked hastily away.

When he had finished applying a light film of antiseptic cream, he remarked, ‘There, that should help to ease the soreness.’

‘Thank you,’ she said in a constrained voice.

Having used a pad to remove the grease from his fingers, he put everything neatly back in the drawer before starting to make some fresh coffee.

When it was made and poured, he passed her a mug. Resuming his seat, he leaned back, his bare feet extended towards the blaze.

To an onlooker the little scene would have appeared tranquil, companionable, but in reality anger and resentment laced the air and tension stretched between them, dangerous as barbed wire.

When both their mugs were empty, he enquired solicitously, ‘More coffee?’

She shook her head.

‘Anything you would like?’

‘Yes. I’d like to know how long you’re intending to stay here.’

‘Well, we can’t really go until our clothes are dry.’

‘Please don’t play games with me,’ she said sharply. ‘How long?’

‘For as long as it takes.’

‘To do what?’

‘To break down the barriers you’ve erected and get through to you. I need you to talk to me, to tell me exactly why you left me.’

But she couldn’t bear to talk about the past, to have all her pain, misery and guilt dragged into the open.

‘I’ve no intention of talking about the past. You’re only wasting your time.’

He shrugged. ‘I’ve plenty of it.’

Thoroughly rattled now, she burst out, ‘Well, I haven’t. If I’m not home by this evening, people will miss me.’

‘Oh? Which people in particular?’

After a moment of complete blankness, she stammered, ‘M-my aunt, for one.’

Zander shook his head. ‘I think not. I happen to know that your aunt died about two years ago.’

Watching her jaw drop, he added, ‘Oh yes, since finding you I’ve done my homework.

‘I’m sorry about your aunt. She couldn’t have been very old; what did she die of?’

Losing her beloved aunt had been a big blow, and Caris’s voice was unsteady as she told him, ‘She had what should have been just a minor operation, and died of septicaemia.’

‘That must have been tough.’

Brushing aside what she saw as spurious sympathy, she demanded, ‘How long have you known where I was?’

‘I only found out quite recently.’

‘How?’

‘By chance. I was in England when I happened to read an article about Gracedieu being on the market. Your name was mentioned as the sole agent, and there was a photograph of you. I asked Michael Grayson’s PA to make an appointment.’

So she had been completely mistaken in believing that meeting Zander again was just a devastating coincidence.

Though she was already sure of the answer, she asked, ‘Why did you use Michael Grayson’s name?’

He answered her question with a question of his own. ‘Would you have shown up if you’d known in advance who the buyer was?’

After a swift glance at her face, he said grimly, ‘No, I didn’t think so.’

He stopped speaking and the silence lengthened—a silence that was far from companionable. Though they were together physically, mentally they were miles apart, a no-man’s-land of unspoken questions and answers, of shattered expectations and dashed hopes stretching between them.

In complete contrast she found herself recalling the past, how close they had once been, how they had sat by the stove at Owl Lodge, together in every sense of the word, and all at once her deep-blue eyes filled with tears.

Hoping against hope that he wouldn’t look up, she tried not to blink. But despite all her efforts the tears escaped and rolled slowly down her cheeks in tracks of shiny wetness.

Afraid to wipe them away in case he noticed, she stayed as still as a statue.

Perhaps it was that very stillness that alerted him, because he suddenly glanced up. Rising to his feet in a single, swift movement, he came to stand by her side.

As she sat mute and mortified, he caught a single bright teardrop with his index finger.

She flinched away as though he had struck her.

‘Why the tears?’

‘I was thinking about the Gracedieu estate,’ she lied desperately.

‘Really?’

Though it was obvious he didn’t believe a word of it, she found herself babbling, ‘I was disappointed that you never had any intention of buying it.’

Resuming his seat, Zander drawled, ‘My, but you do take your job seriously.’

Feeling a little easier now he wasn’t looming over her, she shook her head. ‘In this case it’s not just a job. I fell in love with the place at first sight, and I hate the thought of possibly having to sell it off piecemeal.’

‘There, now! That just shows how wrong one can be. You were worrying about Gracedieu, when I could have sworn you were thinking about the past.’

‘I try not to think about the past.’ Without intending to, she found herself adding bitterly, ‘It hurts too much.’

His eyes darkened to a deep, cloudy jade. ‘No matter how much it hurts, the past has to be faced sooner or later.’

Seeing her white, set face, the misery in her eyes, he decided it would be better to skirt the main issue for the moment. He said more gently, ‘Why not tell me what happened after our quarrel?’

So long as she left out the one thing she couldn’t bear to talk about, she could tell him the rest, Caris thought.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she began, ‘When you’d left for the office I packed my things.’

‘Yes,’ he said bleakly. ‘It wasn’t until I discovered they’d gone that I truly believed you’d leave me without a word. Where did you go?’

‘At first I didn’t know where to go or what to do …’ Her voice shook and she stopped speaking as she recalled the feeling of utter desolation that had gripped her.

As soon as she could trust herself to go on, she continued, ‘There was no way I could keep on working for my father. His anger and disapproval, his “I told you so” attitude, would have made my life a misery—so I urgently needed to find another job and somewhere to live.

‘I decided to get right away from Albany.’ Her worst fear had been that she might run into Zander if she stayed. ‘In the end, I made up my mind to go back to England, to Aunt Jo. I hired a car to drive to JFK, and as soon as I got there I booked a seat on the first available plane to London.

‘While I was waiting for the flight to be called, I rang Aunt Jo to tell her I was on my way. She came to the airport and met me with open arms.’

Remembering just how much her aunt’s warm welcome had meant to her that dreadful day, Caris had to stop and wipe away the tears.

‘Then you were living in Spitewinter right from the word go?’

‘Yes.’

He sighed. ‘I ought to have had more sense than believe her.’

Caris was about to ask him what he meant when he went on, ‘That night when I got back and found you’d gone, I was devastated. After I’d tried all the local hotels without success I went to see your father. I didn’t expect you to be with him, but I thought he might know where you were.

‘Even before he knew the reason for my visit he was somewhat less than cordial, and when he
did
know he really let

rip. He said that in his opinion you’d been a complete fool to take up with me in the first place, and it was a great pity you’d come to your senses too late. He added with some venom that it had probably ruined both your life and your career prospects.

‘When I refused to get into a verbal fight, and simply emphasized that I needed to find you without delay, he told me scathingly that I’d get no help from him. He didn’t know where you’d gone, and if he had known he wouldn’t have told me. That said, he practically ordered me out.

‘Then it occurred to me rather belatedly that you might have gone back to the apartment you’d once shared with Miss Mitchell. But when I went round I could get no answer, and the next-door neighbour told me that the young lady who lived there was still away on a course of some kind.

‘I was racking my brains over what to do next when I remembered you mentioning living with an Aunt Jo while you were at university in England. I didn’t know her surname, however, and all I could recall was that she lived in a vicarage somewhere on the borders of Cambridgeshire.

‘I decided to approach your uncle, but when I called in at the Belmont offices he refused point-blank to see me or give me any information, and ordered his secretary to show me out.

‘In desperation I tried your old apartment again, and this time Miss Mitchell was home. She said she hadn’t seen you and had no idea where you were. But she
was
able to tell me your aunt’s surname and where she lived. I got on the next plane to England in high hopes that you might be with her, or that she would be able to tell me your whereabouts.

‘However, when I arrived on her doorstep she swore she hadn’t seen you since you finished university and went back to the States.’

Knocked sideways by what he was telling her, Caris protested weakly, ‘It wasn’t like Aunt Jo to lie. Usually she was the most truthful of people and kindness itself.’

‘Oh, she was kind, all right,’ Zander agreed wryly. ‘She said what a shame it was that I’d had a wasted journey, and promised to let me know if she heard from you. She added that, if it was any help, you’d always wanted to live in New York City and she thought it more than likely that you’d gone there. But I presume you already knew most of that,’ he ended bleakly.

Feeling as if she had been stabbed to the heart, Caris shook her head. ‘I had no idea you’d been over. She never said a word to me.’

She went on unsteadily, ‘But I believe I know why she didn’t tell me. She must have been trying to protect me from any more unhappiness.’

With a kind of urgency, Zander asked, ‘Would it have made any difference if she
had
told you?’

The question tightened round her throat like a silken noose.
Would
it have made any difference if she had known Zander was actively looking for her?

She tried to tell herself it wouldn’t have. But she couldn’t be sure …

Don’t be an idiot,
she silently adjured herself. She couldn’t have
let
it make any difference. Nothing could alter the fact that he had never intended their relationship to be permanent, had never really loved her. Shaking her head, she answered sadly, ‘No, it wouldn’t have made any difference.’

His voice cold as winter, he said, ‘I guess I was a fool to expect anything else.’ He went on heavily, ‘But at that time I still had hopes that I could find you and put everything right, so I hired a firm of detectives to keep looking. Because of what your aunt had said, they focused on New York. But New York is a big place with millions of people, and it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.