Sally Wentworth - Tiger in His Lair Read online

  'Nothing else at all, my darling. And now I seem to remember that you made a promise concerning your mouth,' he murmured as his hands began to stoke her into awareness. 'And I think we'll start with this…'

  Romily was more than happy again when she got back to the hotel, her face radiating the fulfilled lovemaking of the afternoon. Hurrying into the kitchen, she found -Carol already there, preparing some salad.

  'Two of the guests met some friends while they were out and rang to ask if they could bring them back for a meal. So that will be two extra for dinner. Is that all right?'

  'Yes, we should have enough. Although we might have to have something different for our own dinner,' Romily answered, her professional mind immediately taking over.

  'Oh, good. I've started making the salad. Is there anything else you want me to do?'

  'You can coat the fish I prepared this morning with the seasoned flour, if you like.'

  Romily took her plastic apron from the drawer to start work, and as she did so Carol gave her a closer look. 'You look very happy. I suppose you've been with him?'

  For a moment Romily hesitated, but then realised that there was no point in trying to hide it. 'With James. Yes.'

  'And did you ask him why we broke up?'

  'Yes, I did as a matter of fact.' Romily took a knife from the rack and began to skilfully cut up some carrots. 'He said that you broke up because you became too serious and clinging. Like a vine, was the way he described it, I believe.'

  'Did he really?' Carol retorted with an angry sneer. 'But it seems that he neglected to mention one small detail that led up to it.'

  'What was that?' asked Romily with sudden misgiving.

  Glaring at her, Carol said scathingly, 'Only that he happens to be the father of my younger child!'

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Romily stood very still for a moment, then looked down at the red blood where the knife had sliced into her hand. Dropping the knife, she went quickly into the little cloakroom opening off the kitchen, closed the door behind her and plunged her hand under the cold tap.

  'Romily? Romily, are you all right? Is it a bad cut?'

  Carol's voice came from the other side of the door but for a moment Romily couldn't bring herself to answer. But when Carol called out again she somehow cleared the lump from her throat and said loudly, 'Yes, I'm all right.' She cleaned the cut carefully and put on a Band Aid, noting almost absentmindedly that it wasn't too deep. And it didn't hurt at all. But she probably wouldn't have felt it even if it had hurt, right now she felt almost completely numb with shock.

  It took considerable courage to walk back into the kitchen with her head held high, her face impassive, and maybe she didn't fool Carol at all, but it certainly helped. Picking up the knife again, she washed it and went on slicing the carrots. Carol gave her a long look, then she, too, gave her attention to preparing the dinner. But when at last Carol went upstairs to get changed, Romily slumped against the table, the strength that had carried her through the last hour suddenly draining away. A dozen thoughts and pictures that she'd resolutely pushed out of her mind came flooding back. Carol's youngest son, Simon, was nearly ten years old, the right age, and he had fair hair. But his eyes weren't blue, he had Carol's hazel eyes. But then she remembered James asking about Simon when they'd first met, how he'd remembered his name, although he hadn't asked about Christopher. She sat down in a chair, trembling. It couldn't be true, it couldn't possibly. But even Carol wouldn't have made up something like that. And it would account for all the amazement when James had walked into the room at the party, and the terrible hatred that Gerald still had for him after all these years. No wonder they had gone to Bahrain! No wonder that little Simon had been sent to boarding- school just as soon as he was old enough. The poor kid was a constant living reminder to Gerald that his wife had been unfaithful to him.

  A pan started to boil and Romily automatically went over to the cooker to turn down the heat. But why hadn't James told her when she'd asked him why they'd broken up? She remembered that he'd hesitated. Was this why? Had he been on the point of telling her and then changed his mind? There could be a dozen reasons for that, she supposed, but without asking him she would never know.

  Carol came down again, looking sophisticated in a dark skirt and sweater and Gerald soon followed her, wearing his usual wine-coloured velvet jacket and looking more himself but still rather taciturn. As usual, they all became rapidly busy as the guests came down and made their choices from the menu. Romily worked as efficiently as always, but tonight she was silent, unable to find anything to say in answer to Gerald's grumbles about people not being able to make up their minds, or Carol's comments on the guests' clothes.

  When dinner was over at about nine-thirty, they usually had a late meal themselves, eating in the kitchen, but tonight Romily only laid places for two.

  Glancing at the table, Carol said, 'Aren't you eating with us?'

  'No, I'm not hungry. I'll just take a sandwich up to my room and have an early night.'

  A sardonically amused look came into Carol's eyes. 'You're not sulking, are you?'

  'What should she be sulking about?' demanded Gerald, coming into the room behind her.

  'I'm not…' Romily's voice rose on a hysterical note, but she bit her lip hard and then spoke more normally. 'I am not sulking. I'm very tired, that's all. If you remember I had to get up early this morning to do the breakfast. I didn't just lie in bed until I felt like getting up.'

  'Not this morning, no,' Carol said maliciously. Then, putting on one of her charming smiles, 'I'm so sorry, darling, but it was rather an exception. Don't worry, we won't leave you to cope on your own again.'

  'You won't be able to,' Romily answered clearly. 'Because I'm leaving. You'd better find yourself another cook straight away.'

  'But you can't do that!' exclaimed Gerald in horror. 'You'd said you'd stay for at least the first season.'

  'So I've changed my mind. I find I don't like it here any more.' She shot Carol a hostile, challenging look, but the other woman merely sat there with a small, catlike smile on her lips.

  She wanted this, Romily thought as she turned to go. She wants me out of the way so that she can try to get James back. Her legs felt leaden as she climbed up the stairs to her room. Four of the guests who had been at the party were standing on the landing, talking, and she had to give them a smile and a pleasant goodnight.

  'Do you work here?' one of them asked.

  'Yes, in the kitchen. I'm the cook.'

  'You are?' the woman exclaimed. 'But you're so young to make all those wonderful things!'

  So then Romily had to explain about her previous experience and how she came to be there.

  'So you're Mr Bennion's sister. How lucky for him! And was that your boy-friend you were with at the party? The one who owns the castle?'

  Romily hesitated for a brief moment, but then her chin came up. 'Yes, that's right,' she declared, 'he's my boy-friend.'

  Wow! And do you two plan to get married?'

  Immediately she was deflated, not really knowing how James felt about her. 'I—I don't know. We haven't known each other very long, you see. Only two or three months.'

  'Leave the young lady alone,' one of the men admonished her questioner. 'Can't you see you're embarrassing her?'

  Romily gave him a grateful smile, said a hurried goodnight and escaped to her room at last. She lay on her bed, feeling hungry and wishing that she'd remembered to bring a sandwich, but there was no way she was going to go back to the kitchen to make one while Gerald and Carol were there. Her mind went back to that inquisitive woman on the landing. The woman's questions had been meant kindly, of course, she was obviously just interested in everyone she met, but they had made Romily look at herself through someone else's eyes. The questions had been so cut and dried. Is he your boyfriend? Are you going to marry him? Very simple to ask, almost impossible to answer. When she was with James, and especially when they had been making love that afternoon,
she had been absolutely sure and certain that it was right and that they loved each other. That they would spend the rest of their lives together and that there would be no future without him. But now she made herself face the fact that James had never once said he loved her except that time this afternoon when, in the heights of passion, he had called her his darling, his love. Had he meant it, or had it just been another endearment, another word? But there was no question in her mind about marriage. He had never mentioned it once.

  So what did he want from her? Getting to her feet, Romily went over and looked at herself in the mirrors of the old dressing table. Front view, in profile; she saw a tall, slim and attractive girl with big eyes in a pretty face and thick, glowing red hair. The kind of girl that any man would enjoy going to bed with. But would he want to marry her? Perhaps she was just the kind that men used and then left, she thought bitterly. Oh, God, she was so unsure of herself again, so afraid that she had, for a second time, given her love to a man who only wanted her body.

  Suddenly she turned and smashed her fist against the wall. James wasn't like that, he wasn't! He hadn't rushed or pushed her in any way, had in fact been patient and understanding. OK, so maybe he hadn't told her that he had given Carol a child, but maybe he thought it wasn't his secret to tell. And being with him—well, that was wonderful, wasn't it? So what the hell was she worrying about?

  Her brain seething with crazy, mixed-up emotions of anger and fear, Romily at last dropped into an exhausted sleep, but there were dark shadows under her eyes when she got up next morning to make breakfast. To her surprise she found Gerald already in the kitchen making the first preparations. 'Morning, Romily,' he greeted her.

  'Hello. You're up early,' she answered listlessly.

  'Yes. I—er—wanted to talk to you before Carol came down. Look, you weren't serious last night, were you? About leaving us, I mean?'

  'Yes,' she told him baldly. 'I don't want to get involved in your—private affairs.'

  'I know that, and I'm sorry. I realise that I didn't behave very well the other night. But it was a shock, you see, seeing him just walk in here as bold as brass like that. It brought back all kinds of memories.'

  Romily gave her brother a sympathetic look, realising that he was the one who had suffered most in all this. 'I didn't know James was coming,' she explained. 'When you said you didn't like him I tried to put him off, but he came anyway.'

  'Yes, I know—Carol told me. I'm sorry I went off at you, called you the things I did. I was angry, you see.'

  'I did notice,' she commented drily.

  'Come and sit down and have some coffee.' He put two mugs on the kitchen table and sat opposite her, reminding Romily of when she'd been very young and Gerald had been home from university on holiday, sometimes he had made her breakfast and they had sat opposite one another like this, he already a young man, she a tot of five. Maybe Gerald remembered it too, because he smiled and said, 'In some ways I feel more like a father to you than a brother.' He gave a short laugh. 'We're a couple of innocents in all this, aren't we?'

  Romily didn't answer and he looked down at his mug before saying with difficulty, 'You mustn't take too much notice of Carol. She slipped just that once and it ruined her life as far as she was concerned. She had to give up the position she had here and I had to give up a really good job, so that now we're down to this, running around waiting on tourists. She wasn't meant for this kind of thing, Romily.'

  'Nor were you,' she reminded him. 'It ruined your life too.'

  He shrugged. 'Oh, I don't matter. It doesn't worry me any more what I work at as long as I can earn a decent living.' He looked wistful. 'I've missed not seeing the boys from one year's end to the next, though.'

  Taking a deep breath, Romily said, 'Carol told me that Simon—isn't your son.'

  His eyes grew bleak. 'She told you that, did she? She shouldn't have done that. It wasn't necessary.'

  'Is it true?' she asked urgently.

  Gerald looked down at his mug again. 'I don't know,' he admitted, and took a long drink.

  'But—but you must know!'

  He shook his head. 'No, I don't. Either of us could have been the father.'

  But surely you must have had blood tests taken to…'

  'No,' he interrupted her shortly, then looked at her pleadingly. 'Don't you see? If I'd insisted on having tests done I might have found out that Simon—Simon wasn't mine. This way I can go on loving him because there's always the possibility that he is.'

  Romily stared at him wide-eyed. 'And go on loving Carol, too,' she added softly.

  Gerald nodded and stood up. 'Yes, that too. Romily,' he said looking at her directly, 'please don't leave us unless—unless you feel you absolutely have to. We need you here, and I'd like to think that we have given you some sort of home.' She didn't answer, so putting down his empty mug he said in quite a different tone, 'If you tell me what vegetables you want from the market, I'll go and get them.'

  All the time she was working that morning, Romily could think of little else but what Gerald has said. He was right in many ways; both he and she were the innocent victims of an old affair, but even though she sympathised with him, Romily didn't see how she could stay on at Abbot's Craig. She had an idea that even though Carol knew she was cutting her own throat, she would still make life a misery until she got rid of her. Her pride wouldn't allow her to see James with someone in her own house, someone younger and prettier than Carol was. It would remind her always of what she had experienced in James's arms.

  So Romily decided she would definitely leave as soon as Gerald found someone to take her place. But where would she go? To James? Up until yesterday that would have been the only thing for her to do, but now…? Now she wasn't sure any more, even though he had told her to go to him.

  They had arranged to meet at the boathouse again that afternoon and Romily left the house in time to walk there to meet him, but as she went through the garden down to the lake, her footsteps slowed. Instead of walking to the woods, she turned and walked slowly out on to the jetty, repaired and cleaned now since Gerald had bought a small boat with an outboard motor for the use of his fishing guests. Two of them were out in it now, far over on the other side of the lake where the trees hung over the water making dark pools where the fish liked to feed. Someone had left a rod on the jetty, the line baited, and she sat down beside it, waiting to see if she would catch a fish.

  It was half an hour before James came to look for her. He was wearing jeans tucked into his boots, and a sweater, his head bare. He stopped at the edge of the wood when he saw her sitting there, and came over to squat down beside her on the jetty. 'Caught anything yet?'

  She shook her head, not looking at him. 'No.'

  'I thought we had a date.'

  'Yes, I know.'

  'But you decided not to keep it?' She didn't answer, just sat looking at the end of her line, so James said grimly, 'All right, Romily, what is it?'

  Slowly, painfully, she said, 'Why didn't you tell me that Simon is your son?'

  'Because he isn't.'

  The answer was so immediate, so assured, that she swung round to stare at him.

  'But Carol said… She couldn't have made up something like that, James. She just couldn't!'

  'No, she didn't, not entirely. There was a possibility that the child could have been mine. But it was unlikely, I'd only been seeing her—under duress, if you like, by then.'

  'So you don't actually know that he isn't yours?'

  'Yes, I do. When she started to use her pregnancy to try to make me marry her, I insisted that a blood test be done as soon as the child was born. It proved conclusively that Simon wasn't mine.' He looked steadily into her eyes. 'Carol decided she wanted to marry me, you see, and what Carol wants she goes all out to get. When I made it plain that I wasn't interested in marriage, or in her any longer, she put on a big act about killing herself if I didn't, said that she was crazily in love with me and all the rest of it. I didn't have much exper
ience of handling that kind of thing then, and she managed to coerce me into having sex with her one last time. Then some weeks later she told me she was pregnant. That the child was mine and that she would have to tell Gerald who would probably kill her,' and would definitely throw her out. It came,' James said grimly, 'as rather a shock. I thought I was well rid of her. She tried, of course, to play on my better nature, but I was beginning to see through Carol by then, and decided that she was probably lying. But she produced a doctor's certificate to prove that she was indeed pregnant. So then I realised that she must have deliberately allowed herself to get pregnant in an attempt to coerce me into marrying her. But I was damned if I was going to have my life ruined because of her,' he finished forcefully.

  Romily turned away for a moment, remembering how Gerald's life had been ruined instead, how the weaker man had borne the brunt of all this.

  'I decided to call her bluff,' James went on. 'But she went ahead and told Gerald and all her women friends in Inverness. Gerald came up to the castle spitting fire and I let him knock me down a couple of times because I figured I deserved that much for what I'd done to him. But then he completely took the wind out of Carol's sails by vowing to stand by her. When the baby was born she tried to stop me having the blood tests done because she wanted to continue to use the child as a threat. She knew I wouldn't marry her, so she wanted to do me as much harm as possible. But I wasn't going to have that child held as a sword over my head, so I took it to law and she was forced to have the tests done.'

  Romily looked at him curiously. 'And if he had been your child? What would you have done?'

  A dark look came into his blue eyes. 'Paid for his upkeep, made sure he was all right, cared about him. But I would never have married Carol even if Gerald had divorced her. That woman is vile, poisonous!'

  'Maybe she did love you,' Romily said slowly. 'Maybe she loved you so much that she was willing to do anything to keep you.'

  James gave her a swift look, then shook his head decisively. 'No, I don't buy that. She fancied me all right, but she was more in love with what I could give her than with me. Catching me would have been good for her ego, that was all. As it was, all she did was to hurt everyone concerned: herself, me, Gerald, and even Simon and her other son in some ways. And now you.'