His Rags-to-Riches Bride. Susan Stephens

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      His brows lifted. ‘You surprise me,’ he said slowly. ‘Does she do a lot of this?’

      She nodded. ‘She’s supposed to be going through Simon’s things,’ she said tonelessly. ‘Sorting them for charity because Mother doesn’t feel up to it yet. But she doesn’t seem to have got very far.’

      She got up. ‘I’d better put the oven on. I made a casserole yesterday, and it just needs heating up.’ She paused. ‘There’s plenty—if you’d like to stay too?’

      ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t think so. I have a much better plan. Why don’t I take you out to dinner instead?’

      Her lips parted in astonishment. ‘But I can’t. I have to get the rest of supper—the vegetables—a pudding.’

      Dan finished his coffee and rose too. ‘On the contrary, my sweet, it will do them good to forage for themselves.’ He added crisply, ‘And I won’t take no for an answer, Laine.’

      The kitchen door was flung open and Candida swept in, looking disgruntled. ‘That train service is a nightmare. I deliberately came early, but it was still crowded with the most ghastly—’

      She saw Daniel and halted, her face clearing magically into a ravishing smile. ‘Dan—darling. How wonderful. I had no idea you’d be here.’

      ‘And I was just thinking the same about you,’ he returned silkily. ‘How are you, Candy?’

      ‘Oh—still soldiering on.’ She gestured vaguely. ‘You know how it is. I come down most weekends to be with poor Angela.’ She paused, and sighed. ‘We try to be—there for each other.’

      ‘Then I’m surprised you haven’t headed straight for the golf club,’ Daniel commented blandly. ‘I gather that’s her chosen refuge these days. But it’s good you’ve arrived early,’ he went on, ‘because I expect she’ll be tired and hungry after a hard afternoon on the fairway, and you can start supper for both of you. Laine and I are going out for dinner.’

      ‘Oh,’ Candida said, and her glance flickered between them. Then she smiled again with renewed radiance. ‘But that’s a terrific idea. Why don’t we all go out—make it a real reunion?’

      He said, quite gently, ‘Because I’ve invited Laine on her own. It’s recompense for missing her birthday.’

      ‘But I’m sure she won’t mind.’ There was a faintly metallic edge to her voice. ‘After all, you were very generous at the time, if memory serves. You mustn’t spoil the child too much.’

      ‘I won’t,’ he said. ‘Besides, the recompense is for me—not for her.’ He walked round the table, drew Laine to him, and dropped a light kiss on her hair. He said softly, ‘Go and make yourself beautiful for me, sweetheart. I’ll be back at seven.’

      Laine, aware that she was shaking inside, suddenly and uncontrollably, glanced across at Candida, and the two spots of colour now blazing in her cheeks, and decided to make a run for it while her legs would still support her.

      And as she flew upstairs to her room she found she was repeating the words ‘back at seven’ over and over again under her breath, as if they were a good luck charm.

      And perhaps I truly thought they were, Laine thought listlessly, recalling how she’d gone through every item in her inadequate wardrobe, trying to find something that would do the occasion justice. At the same time reminding herself with every breath that this was not—not—a date. That he was simply being kind.

      I knew it then, she thought sadly. Why couldn’t I remember it later—when it really mattered?

      She heard the flat door bang, and realised that he’d left for the evening, that she was on her own again. Which meant that she could leave her room and move around freely, if she wanted, without the risk of any unwanted encounters.

      Except that it just seemed easier to stay where she was as her mind dived back into the deep waters of the past, to that night when her life had changed so completely and so wonderfully—or so she’d thought then.

      In the end, she’d decided to wear her summer best of a turquoise wrap-around skirt and white scoop-necked top. Not glamorous or sophisticated, she’d thought wistfully, but the earrings he’d given her would make the outfit a little more special. At the last minute she had added a moonstone pendant on a slender gold chain which had been her seventeenth birthday present from him, watching how it seemed to slide naturally into the faint cleavage between her small breasts and nestle there.

      Wondering if he would notice that too, and halting right there, knowing that she was straying into the realms of dangerous fantasy. Reminding herself that the pendant had got her into enough trouble already when, on her birthday evening, she’d gone running into his arms to thank him, seeking his cheek with her lips and somehow finding the warm, lingering pressure of his mouth instead, along with a strange inability to move away, out of range. As she should have done. At once, if not sooner.

      An error which, she’d realised, had been lost on no one present—particularly Angela, who’d delivered a stinging rebuke later, telling her she was far too old to fling herself at Daniel like that.

      Too old one minute. Too young the next. She’d never known where she stood.

      But on that evening, as she’d touched her lips with pale rose colour and recalled the sensation of his mouth on hers, she had felt all too young. And flustered. Thinking, for no fathomable reason, of the clean but so elderly bra and briefs she was wearing. Glad that it wasn’t a real date, so there was no chance that they’d ever—that he’d want to—that she’d be expected to.

      At which juncture she had told herself sternly to stop thinking, because it was clearly turning her into an idiot, collected her bag and, breathing deeply, gone downstairs.

      Angela still hadn’t returned, and Candida had been in the drawing room, turning over the pages of a magazine in a way that suggested she’d rather be tearing them to shreds and throwing them at someone.

      She’d given Laine a hard stare. ‘You’re actually planning to wear that—for dinner with Daniel Flynn?’

      ‘My crinoline’s at the menders.’ Laine pretended to check the contents of her bag, feeling her fragile confidence shredding.

      She was rescued almost at once by the shrill of the doorbell and the need to answer it.

      ‘Oh,’ she said, almost blankly, finding Daniel waiting on the doorstep, immaculate in a dark suit and a tie the colour of rubies. ‘It’s you.’

      ‘How many other men are you seeing tonight?’

      ‘But you never ring,’ she protested. ‘You usually just walk in.’

      He glanced past her, his mouth twisting faintly. ‘Not when I’m hoping for a fast getaway,’ he said, and took her hand. ‘Let’s go.’

      The car was long, low and sleek, and Laine sank down into the soft seat, stifling a sigh of pleasure as she breathed in the expensive smell of leather.

      ‘Is this new?’ she asked as the engine purred into life.

      ‘It’s always the same car,’ СКАЧАТЬ