For The Love Of Sara. Anne Mather

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СКАЧАТЬ to open the car doors. She got into the front seat without looking at him, and he slammed the door more violently than was necessary before walking round the bonnet to join her.

      Once inside, he examined the shoulders of his jacket, and finding them soaked, he took his jacket off and slung it carelessly on to the back seat. Then he indicated that she might like to do the same, but she silently refused. Shrugging, he started the engine and drove down the drive, halting at the gates when she said:

      “Where are you taking me? I have to be back in an hour.”

      “An hour?” He glared sideways at her.

      “Yes, an hour. Sara sleeps for that long in the afternoons. I have to be back before she awakes.”

      Joel made no comment, but drove swiftly along the road towards the spot where he had parked this morning. There was room there to park the car off the road, and it was remote enough, goodness knows. Rachel said nothing as they drove along, and Joel wondered whether she was composing what she was going to say to him. For himself, anger simmered too near the surface for him to think with reasonable logic, and he had to force himself not to stop the car there and then and demand that she stop this ridiculous charade she was playing.

      It didn’t take long to reach the beck, and Joel stopped the car on the layby and reached automatically for a cheroot. Without asking her permission, he lit it and inhaled deeply, rolling down his window half way to allow the fumes to escape.

      “Well?” he said at last, when she still made no attempt to speak to him. “What’s it all about?”

      Rachel linked her hands together in her lap. “What’s what all about?”

      “Don’t give me that, Rachel. We both know what I’m talking about. I want to know how you came to know my father well enough for him to ask you to marry him.”

      Rachel lifted her slim shoulders. “I — I’ve known him for years, Joel. You know that.”

      Joel chewed impatiently at the end of the cheroot. “Because I introduced you?” He scowled. “That won’t do, Rachel. I can count on one hand the number of times you met my father through me. We were not — we have never been — the best of friends, and you know it!”

      “I — I was only explaining that — that it’s some years since I first met him, that’s all.”

      “I am aware of that.”

      “I know you are.” She curled her nails into her palms. “W-Why should it strike you as so extraordinary that your father should want to — to marry me? He — he always — liked me.”

      Joel’s mouth thinned. “Rachel, for God’s sake —”

      “Oh, Joel, stop it! Stop it!” She put her hands over her ears. “Why did you come here? What do you hope to achieve? Everything between us was over long ago. You know that. You have no right to question what I intend to do.”

      “Haven’t I?” Joel stared at her furiously. “Haven’t I, just! My God, you’re a cool one! Did you really think you could agree to marry my father without arousing any reaction from me?”

      “What’s it to do with you?”

      “You want to be my stepmother, is that it? You love my father now as you once said you loved me? Oh, come off it, Rachel, it won’t do! What is it? Some rotten attempt at revenge? Is this intended to show me what might have been?”

      “And what if it is?” she burst out hotly. “What can you do about it?”

      There was silence for a few moments and Joel stared grimly out of the windows at the falling rain. He couldn’t believe it! He simply couldn’t believe it! Rachel wasn’t like that. Or at least, she hadn’t been. But then it was years since they had split up. She had married since then, had a child. Who knew what manner of life she had led to bring her to this.

      With a sigh he said quietly: “Tell me why you disappeared like that. What did I do to arouse such a desire to escape?”

      Rachel took a deep breath. “You ask me that?” She shook her head bitterly. “What’s the use of talking, Joel? The past is dead. It’s the future I’m concerned about.”

      Joel’s jaw hardened. “At anyone’s expense!”

      “That’s not true. You know nothing about it.”

      “Then tell me.”

      Rachel pleated the folds of her coat. “Joel, I’m going to marry your father. Nothing you — or Francis — can say will alter that.”

      Joel’s fists clenched. “You must be pretty desperate, Rachel!” he muttered savagely.

      “I am.”

      “Why?” He turned to look at her, noticing again the hollows in her cheeks, the lacklustre quality of her eyes. Hardly the face of a bride-to-be. “Is it money? If it’s money you want, I can give you that.”

      Rachel’s lips twisted contemptuously. “If I were a man, I’d knock you down for a remark like that!” she exclaimed. “I wouldn’t marry any man for money! Oh, you should be proud of yourself, Joel! You’re a bastard of the first water!”

      Joel moved then, imprisoning her wrist between his fingers, feeling the fragile bones quiver within his hand. He knew he could crush her physically with very little effort, but that was not his intention. He was not an animal. He had a brain, and he intended to use it. But just as this moment he wanted to hurt her, he wanted to see her squirm, as mentally she was trying to make him. She winced as he applied pressure to her wrist, but she didn’t cry out. He was so close he could inhale the warm scent of her body, and his eyes were irresistibly drawn to the opened neck of her blouse. He understood only too well the fire that suddenly stirred in his loins, and with a feeling of self-disgust he let her go and slumped in his seat.

      “I want to know about your husband and the child,” he persisted doggedly. “Is Gilmour dead? My father said you’re a widow.”

      Rachel was rubbing her wrist. “I am.”

      “What was your husband’s name?”

      “His name?” She looked startled. “You know his name.”

      “Gilmour?” Joel turned cold eyes on her. “Is that what you called him? Gilmour?”

      “Oh! Oh, no, of course not.” Rachel flushed then. “His Christian name was — Alan.”

      “Alan Gilmour. What did he do?” Rachel looked puzzled, and he added: “His occupation? What was his occupation?”

      “Does it matter?”

      “I think so.”

      She sighed. “He was an engineer. He — he worked for the government.”

      “I see.” Joel digested this. “How long were you married?”

      “Two — three years. What does it matter now?”

      Joel didn’t altogether understand why he was so СКАЧАТЬ