Comparative Strangers. Sara Craven

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      He was silent for a moment. ‘You don’t have to tell me I’ve been a crass, insensitive fool. I know that. Since I met you, I always considered I was immune to temptation from other women. But it always existed.’ His mouth twisted in self-deprecation. ‘Rally-drivers have their groupies, too.’

      ‘But I can’t believe Clare was one of them.’

      ‘No,’ he conceded. ‘But she made all the running, once she realised who I was. She kept phoning me—throwing herself at me.’

      ‘So, she didn’t just happen to be at Calthorpe?’

      ‘No, she followed me there deliberately. I—I lied about that. She wouldn’t let me alone. She kept pestering me.’

      ‘Poor Nigel,’ Amanda said with irony. ‘How very trying for you. And, I suppose, in the end temptation just became too much. Or did she rape you?’

      Dull colour rose in his face. ‘No, of course not. But I’m no saint, sweetheart. I have my weaknesses, and maybe it’s better for you to know about them before rather than after we’re married.’ As her lips parted in protest, he lifted his hand to halt whatever she was going to say. He said intensely, ‘Because you are going to marry me, darling. You must. You’re not going to let one stupid, spoiled little tart ruin our lives.’ As he said it, he smiled at her, the blue eyes suddenly ingenuous and appealing. ‘I need you, Manda.’

      His hands reached for her, and she stepped back, away from him.

      She said, ‘You talk as if your—fling with Clare were the only issue involved, but it isn’t. It’s the way you’ve acted since. Those beastly phone calls—my window.’

      ‘Darling.’ Nigel was still smiling. ‘I was beside myself—coming here and finding Malory with you was an awful jolt. I hung around for hours, waiting for him to leave.’ He shook his head. ‘When I realised he wasn’t leaving, I went a bit mad, thinking all kinds of crazy things.’ He laughed. ‘I had this image of him in bed with you—up in that room. Somehow, I convinced myself that it was true, that it was happening, and something—snapped.’ He gave a self-deprecatory sigh. ‘Guilty conscience, I suppose, but I had this idea he was spending the night with you to get his own back over Clare. As if a sexless nonentity like Malory could ever dream up such a scheme!’ He held out his hand to her. ‘And as if you’d let him, anyway. After all, if I couldn’t get near you, it’s hardly likely you’d sleep with Mal.’

      There was a long silence. Amanda could feel a slow, hot blush reaching up from her toes.

      ‘Well, say something, darling.’ Nigel sounded half amused, half impatient. ‘Don’t just stand there, or I shall start to think you let my dear brother into bed with you last night, after all.’ And, as Amanda lifted her hands and pressed them to her burning face, he said slowly, his voice sinking to a whisper, ‘Christ—it’s true, isn’t it? You slept with him, didn’t you, you bitch?’

      Sheer embarrassment, as well as anger, lit the fuse of Amanda’s temper. ‘Yes, I did.’ She flung her head back defiantly. ‘And I don’t care if it was just vengeance for Clare.’

      As soon as the words were out she regretted them, but it was too late. She couldn’t go back and explain the truth about her night with Malory, because it would only expose them both to Nigel’s scorn, and Malory didn’t deserve that.

      Nigel said hoarsely. ‘You little whore! I wish that brick had killed you both.’

      ‘I get the general idea.’ Her voice shook. ‘Now, get out of here, and don’t come back.’

      He half turned, then swung back towards her, his eyes raking her with a kind of furious greed. ‘No—why should I? Now that Malory’s given you one, you haven’t got the excuse of your everlasting virginity to hold me off any more.’ He laughed savagely. ‘Maybe I should even be grateful to him for—opening the way for me, so to speak.’

      His crudity made her cringe. She took another step backwards. ‘Don’t come near me.’

      ‘You should have said that last night,’ he jeered. ‘You and Malory—my God! I didn’t think it was possible. Does he have a chemical formula for sex, too? He’s probably writing up the results of the experiment in triplicate at this very moment.’

      ‘Don’t you dare say things like that about Malory!’ Amanda threw back at him fiercely. ‘He has all the qualities you so signally lack—kindness and compassion, among them.’

      ‘Oh, is that what you look for in a bed-partner?’ His tone dripped contempt. ‘My mistake, sweetheart. What did he do as foreplay—cry on your shoulder?’

      ‘You’re despicable …’

      ‘And Malory, of course, is Sir Galahad,’ Nigel almost snarled. ‘If he’s such a paragon, my sweet, why don’t you marry him, instead?’

      She said recklessly, ‘I intend to …’ and stopped with a little gasp as she saw Nigel’s face darken with more than anger.

      ‘That,’ he said, too evenly, ‘is if he still wants you, when I’ve finished with you.’

      She’d retreated as far as the kitchen door, her hand clumsily, desperately fumbling with the handle, when she heard the back door open, and Mr Ambrose’s stolid, dependable tones call, ‘Miss Conroy—are you there, love? I’ve come to see to that little matter you mentioned.’

      Her voice cracking, she called back, ‘I’m here—in the hall.’

      The door behind her opened, and Mr Ambrose stood there, looking at them, red-faced and sturdy, with shrewd eyes under bushy eyebrows. He said, ‘Not butting in, am I?’

      ‘No,’ Amanda said breathlessly. ‘Mr Templeton was just leaving—weren’t you, Nigel?’

      For one shocked moment, she thought he was going to hit her. Then he said, ‘Yes, I’m going. But you’ll be sorry for this, Amanda. I promise you that.’

      As the front door closed behind him, she felt her legs begin to shake under her.

      Mr Ambrose said, ‘Seems in a bit of a state, your young man.’ He paused, then added expressionlessly, ‘A window, was it?’

      She flushed. ‘Yes.’

      He had almost finished replacing the pane when Mrs Conroy arrived back. She was laden with parcels which she dumped on the drawing-room sofa before turning her gaze on Amanda.

      ‘My dear child, you look positively dreadful. You’re fretting for Nigel, I know you are. So why don’t you go and phone him, and tell him you’re sorry for whatever it was, and then we can all be happy again?’

      Amanda said quietly, ‘What makes you think I’m the one who should apologise?’

      Mrs Conroy shrugged. ‘Darling, what does it matter? It just needs one of you to make the first move.’

      ‘The question’s academic, anyway,’ Amanda said. ‘Nigel’s been here already, and I sent him away.’

      ‘Are you out of your mind?’ her mother almost shrieked.

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