Wild Melody. Sara Craven

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      ‘I'm perfectly warm, thanks,’ she returned, deliberately misunderstanding him. His hand closed round hers as he helped her out of the car, and for a moment she almost returned the pressure of his fingers. But just in time she remembered who he was, and the treatment she had been forced to put up with from him, and snatched her hand away.

      ‘Come along then, Miss Muir,’ he said, and she was startled to hear the harsh note back in his voice. ‘This is what you wanted. Make the most of it.'

      Inside the house, Catriona was startled to find a uniformed maid waiting to take their coats.

      ‘Don't worry,’ Jason murmured. ‘She's not permanent staff. Just hired for the big occasion.'

      He guided her expertly through groups of chatting people in the hall into a large room with a bar at one end. Catriona noticed that French windows stood open at one side, leading apparently to a big conservatory.

      ‘There's Clive—never far from the drinks,’ he remarked. ‘Brace yourself, darling, you're about to meet my respected brother, and Jeremy's papa.'

      Clive Lord was shorter than his brother with slightly receding hair and a developing paunch. He looked much older than Jason too, but in his smile Catriona thought she could detect a reminder of Jeremy, and she warmed to him.

      ‘I don't think I've seen you here with Jason before, have I, Miss—er—Muir?’ he asked, handing her a glass filled with a glowing red liquid.

      ‘Please call me Catriona,’ she said, smiling up at him, and ignoring Jason's sardonic smile.

      ‘I don't suppose you know how honoured you are, Clive,’ he murmured. ‘When's the big moment, by the way?'

      ‘Oh—shortly.’ Clive looked round in a harassed manner. ‘I don't see the need for all this fuss. We had the same nonsense in Yorkshire last week. But you know Marion—not to be outdone, of course.'

      ‘Of course,’ Jason agreed smoothly. ‘Come on, my sweet, we don't want to miss anything.'

      Catriona felt her temper rising. ‘What's going on?’ she asked heatedly. ‘Where's Jeremy? I must see him alone for a few moments.'

      ‘We're going to see him now. I should put that revolting concoction Clive gave you down if I were you. There'll be champagne in the next room.'

      ‘I don't want any champagne,’ Catriona insisted almost wildly.

      ‘Oh, but you must. It's traditional, and the fun's just beginning.’ He drew her across the hall into a room packed with people. It was quite true—there was champagne, and Catriona took the glass she was offered almost mechanically.

      ‘That's the ticket.’ Clive appeared beside them beaming. ‘Now I must do my stuff, I suppose.’ He went off through the crowd, and just as Catriona was turning to Jason, a demand to be taken to Jeremy at once framing on her lips, a sudden hush fell.

      Startled, she looked round, and then—at last—she saw Jeremy. He was standing at the end of the room with two women. One of them, Catriona was immediately convinced, was his mother. She was tall and fair-haired, wearing an expensive dress, and stood toying nervously with her rings. Although she was smiling, Catriona had the feeling that in repose Mrs Lord's face would have a rather peevish expression, and she felt slightly chilled. At the same time she was registering incredulously that the other woman—hardly more than a girl, in fact—was clinging possessively to Jeremy's arm. He was in evening dress, and he had shaved off his beard and cut his hair. He looked quite different, Catriona thought with dismay, then he turned to the pretty, rather plump blonde at his side, smiling at something she had said, and his smile made him the familiar reassuring Jeremy again.

      Clive's voice rang out over the room.

      ‘And now, everyone—friends—if you'll raise your glasses, we'll drink a toast to Jeremy and Helen. Long life and every happiness!'

      Catriona stood numbly, her fingers clenched round the slender stem of the glass as Jeremy bent and kissed the girl, who smiled and held up her left hand so that everyone could see the glittering diamond ring adorning it.

      Catriona gave a little choking cry. The room dipped and blurred and she heard her glass smash to the parquet floor as she turned and fled. A startled maid stepped forward, as she gained the hall.

      ‘Excuse me, madam——’ she began as Catriona began blindly to wrestle with the ornate ring that served as a front door handle. Her hands were slippery with perspiration, and she felt hysteria rising within her. Then Jason's hands were gripping her shoulders, and his voice was saying calmly, ‘Come into the conservatory, darling. It's cooler there, and you won't catch a chill as you might outside.'

      His grip was inexorable. It was like trying to tear free from a vice, and Catriona did not have the strength to struggle any more. She allowed him to lead her across the room they had first entered to the French windows. He lifted one of the long beige velvet curtains, and she passed through like an automaton.

      Ordinarily Catriona would have delighted in the warm exotic scents and sights around her. Hanging lamps had been festooned across the glass roof, and the lights were reflected back from the banks of glossy leaves and petals and from a tiny sunken pool. Small brightly coloured fish darted among the pebbles and the lilies, and Catriona stood watching them, her mind registering with complete detachment every swift movement and ripple of the water. In spite of the more than mild atmosphere, she felt icy cold.

      ‘Here.’ Jason appeared, holding a glass which he thrust into her hand. ‘Drink this, and don't drop it this time. Caterers’ glasses are an expensive item, as you being a thrifty Scot should know.'

      Obediently she swallowed some of the amber liquid, then choked as the powerful spirit caught her throat. It was a violent revival, but it was what she needed, and it gave her the courage to face him.

      ‘You knew,’ she accused, her voice almost breaking. ‘You knew!'

      ‘Of course I did.’ He set one foot on the low parapet of the pool, and took a brief sip from his own glass.

      ‘And you didn't tell me?'

      ‘No.'

      ‘How could you be so cruel?’ she whispered, her eyes and throat smarting with the tears she wouldn't allow to fall.

      ‘I had to be cruel—to be kind,’ he said. His dark face was angry as he stared at her. ‘I did my level best to scare you off, to get rid of you, even. I told you to go back to Scotland, but no. Nothing gainsays Miss Catriona Muir once her mind is made up, does it?'

      ‘Why didn't you tell me the truth?’ she asked, trying to control her trembling voice.

      He looked at her steadily. ‘Because nothing on God's earth would have convinced you that it was the truth. You had Jeremy cast as the hero, and me, most definitely, as the villain of the piece. Any warning I had given you about Helen's existence you would have dismissed as having an ulterior motive, though God knows what makes you think I harbour any towards you,’ he added.

      She stood silent for a moment, torn between the justice of what he had said and the misery that was threatening to engulf her.

      ‘Here,’ he said quietly, as if СКАЧАТЬ