Borrowed Wife (19 page)

He
pointed to the tray of tea that had already been delivered and as she poured a
cup he watched her steadily before saying, ‘So Fenella tried to sink the ship.
Why not come right out and say it?’

‘I’m not
competent to speculate on big business deals,’ Abigail murmured carefully. ‘In
any case, he simply said. It was according to his information. Maybe it was a
waiter. One of them is a gossip.’

‘Nice
try, Abigail,’ Logan drawled sardonically. ‘To the best of my knowledge, Snake
Eyes hasn’t been in this place since we came except to collect Fenella tonight.
At that time, he didn’t wander far from my icy glance. Nobody spoke to him. I
was hard pressed to speak to him myself.’

Abigail’s
lips twitched in amusement at Logan’s name for Pete Cassidy. That was exactly
how she thought of him herself; all the same, she wasn’t going to be drawn into
any speculation about Fenella Mitchell.

‘Well, I
can’t see what she could possibly have to gain,’ she murmured, ‘and she has
plenty to lose.’

‘Knowing
how your mind works, I won’t ask what,’ Hr replied ironically. ‘Drink your tea.
I’ll get to the bottom of this tomorrow.’

I don’t
expect there’ll be any deal now,’ Abigail sighed. ‘He’s sure to tell Grant what
he thinks even if only to get himself out of trouble. Add that to the
considerable pain he suffered and it seems to be the end of any kind of
business.’

 ‘You think I should have
walked up and pretended not to notice?’ Logan asked drily. And she shook her
head vigorously, a shudder running over her skin at the memory of that
unpleasant interlude. ‘As to the deal,’ he continued, ‘it’s not all that
important. I’ve already got a stake in this country that makes Grant’s business
look insignificant.’

‘Then
why...?’ Abigail stared at him in astonishment and he stood, slanting her an
amused sideways glance as he walked to the door.

‘The
machinations of a devious mind.’ He stopped and turned, coming back towards
her. ‘Let me look at those arms. He mauled you considerably.’

Before
she could stop him he had pushed up the sleeves of her dressing gown and was
studying the growing bruises with angry, narrowed eyes.

‘I should
have squeezed his neck a damned sight harder,’ he muttered. ‘Does it hurt?’

He looked
up at her with a slight anxiety on his and she shook her head. For once, he
looked almost vulnerable, and a small smile crept unbidden to her face.

‘Not
much. I’ll bathe my arms in cold water.’

‘Shall I
ring down and get you something for it? There are all-night chemists here.’

‘It’s all
right, Logan, really,’ Abigail assured him. Unthinkingly she put her hand on
his arm, and he look down at her slender fingers, so pale against his sleeve.
When he looked up, his expression had warmed and he took her face between his
hands, kissing her Iips carefully and softly.

‘All
right, sweet Abbie. If you need me, I’m just next door.’

‘Aren’t
you going back for Fenella?’ she asked, she got that tilted grin again.

‘I think
not. If she gets very uptight about being deserted, she’s probably innocent of
the charges. If she lets the matter drop, then she’s most probably guilty.’

‘You
don’t know that,’ Abigail reminded him swiftly, and he gave her another quick
glance as he left.

‘I don’t
know
it,’ he agreed quietly. ‘It’s a matter of instinct and your instincts were
always better than mine. What do you think, Abbie?’

‘How
could I know?’ she said quickly, and Logan looked at her steadily.

‘You
watched her all evening. Mischief usually brews up quite visibly.’ He went out,
leaving Abigail wondering where this left her and exactly where this left Logan. Why didn’t he care about this deal when he had dragged her over here to clinch the
matter? Now he seemed to be utterly unconcerned, as if he was the one doing
Grant a favour.

She gave
herself a little mental shake. It was impossible to follow Logan’s way of
thinking but clearly, somewhere along the line, she had missed an important
fact. She surely hoped that they were going tomorrow and that she would not
have to see the hideous Pete Cassidy again.

She went to bathe her arms
and really they were hurting quite a lot. There were finger marks that were deepening
by the minute and any sight of them in the morning would merely infuriate Logan again.

Abigail was up quite early
the next day and there was no sign of Logan. Somehow, last night had left her
feeling more sure of herself because he had certainly been protective. There
had been no pretence about his fury and it had not all been jealousy alone. She
decided to wait downstairs. She was not going to skulk in her room like a
frightened child. If Fenella was there she might just give herself away and
admit to telling Pete Cassidy about the separation. I52

 There was no sign of Logan
or Fenella, though, and Abigail couldn’t help the little sinking of her heart
when she found that they were both out. Again her informant was the waiter and
she gave him a very brittle smile for this information. Why couldn’t people
mind their own business? Some things she just didn’t want to know.

‘They ate
earlier,’ he said, and she dismissed him with a curt nod of her head.

Afterwards
she went for what would very likely be her last walk on the bench—because she
knew Logan. He would not stay here now, even if the affair was concluded
amicably. It was a shame that this lovely place had been merely the setting for
an act of deceit—an act she had been forced into. It would have been nice to be
here for a holiday. But only with Logan, her mind assured her. She was not
interested in being here either
alone or with anyone else.   

He was
there when she came back, watching her from the balcony again, but this time he
did not remonstrate with her at all.

‘We’re
leaving this morning,’ he told her when she came into her room.

‘I’ll be
ready.’ It was all she was prepared to say because she didn’t want to know what
had happened; at least, she didn’t want to know that this subterfuge and her
own misery had all been for nothing.

‘We can
stay and have a real holiday if you like,’ Logan said quietly as he watched her
downcast face, and her head shot up, her eyes green and wide.

‘A
holiday? Oh, Logan, don’t offer a continuation of a nightmare as if you’re
wanting to do me a favour, I can’t get out of here last enough And, whatever
happens, I’ve done my part. don’t forget that. It was not my fault that we ran
into a lunatic.’

Logan
’s brow darkened at her tone but he nodded
seriously, keeping his temper.

‘No. It was not your fault
at all. You played the part very well, Abigail. You even acted above and beyond
the call of duty.’

There was no mistaking what
he meant and Abigail’s face flushed as he stared at her icily.  ‘So you’ll help
out the Madden Corporation?’ she insisted, and he turned away, shrugging
dismissively. 

 ‘I’ve already said so. I
gave you my word. The fiasco last night was not your fault. In any case, it
made little or no difference, although there is now a certain strain between
Grant and myself. I signed the deal this Morning.’

 ‘With Fenella?’ She
couldn’t stop the words coming out and he turned and looked at her bleakly. 
‘Naturally with Fenella I told you she had to countersign.’

‘So she’s
flying back with us?’ Abigail said quietly, and he muttered under his breath as
he stalked towards the door.

‘She’s already left I had a
job for her in New York. You and I are going home.’

‘She won’t like being left
behind,’ Abigail persisted foolishly, and he turned a grey-eyed stare of
annoyance on her.

‘What she
likes or does not like is of no importance. If she wants works for me and she
has a damned good job. If she wants to keep it, she does exactly as she is told
and goes
exactly where I send
her. Pack your clothes, Abigail, and don’t fight out of your league, especially
as you’re not prepared to play your ace card at any time’

 ‘I don’t have an ace,’
Abigail pointed out miserably, and he turned in the doorway at the last minute,
his eyes on her face.

‘Oh, yes, you do, Abigail,’
he insisted softly. ‘The trouble is, you’ve never recognised it.’

CHAPTER NINE

After the glorious sunshine
of California, London was grey and dismal. There had been a heavy downpour just
before the plane landed. Abigail looked out of the taxi window as they sped
along in the gathering dusk. Beside her, Logan was silent, tensed up and she
sat in equal silence, almost holding her breath, afraid to say even one word in
case it was the wrong one.

They had
not made any sort of plan but it was obviously necessary to go to the flat
first. Logan had collected her and returned to the flat before their trip to America and his car was there. Abigail’s car was at home.

She
almost grimaced just thinking the word and the old line ‘Home is where the
heart is’ ran unbidden through her mind. Her heart was and always would be with
Logan. From now on she would not be content to live with her father and she
knew it. She was not even willing to stay with the Madden Corporation when he
was fit to return to his office.

The
viability or not of her father’s firm depended solely on Logan and, whether it
succeeded or not, she would move now and take another job. She ran the thought
through her mind, her hopes resting on Brian Wingate. He was unlikely to refuse
to employ her with his firm, even though Logan had told him clearly to keep
away from her. Even so, going straight to Brian and starting there seemed an
easy option. Easy for her but not for Brian. There was no knowing how Logan would like it.

 ‘Come
into the flat’

Abigail
came back to the present to find the taxi halted outside the flat and Logan preparing to pay the driver. He was dealing with their luggage and at the sound of
Logan’s dark voice Abigail felt a sharp attack of nerves threatening.

‘Is it
necessary?’ she asked in a low voice, turning away from the taxi driver’s alert
ears. ‘Can’t you just take me straight home?’

‘I want
to talk to you,’ Logan insisted, aiming one of his coolly dismissive stares at
the driver, who
hastened
away. He picked up most of their luggage, leaving
just two small bags for Abigail. ‘A drink and a few words and I’ll have you on
your way.’

She
nodded as calmly as possible. Was this where he told her that she could now go
about getting that divorce?  Was he going to lay down new rules about his aid
to the firm? Whatever it was, he seemed to be determined, and she had no means
of getting back home without his aid. 

With the
lights on in the flat the gathering gloom of the outside was dispelled but
another gloom descended on Abigail. This was probably the last time she would
ever be here in this place where she had been so heavenly happy and then so
terribly unhappy. It was too
poignant
for her to take any last look around
and she stood in the centre of the sitting room, her hands gasped loosely in
front of her.

Logan
glanced at her sceptically and then poured a
drink, offering her one.

‘I’d rather have tea,’ she
managed evenly, and he shrugged, sitting down and looking up at her
quizzically. ‘You know where the kitchen is. It’s your kitchen.’  It was
deliberately provocative and Abigail decided to ignore it. She went through to
the kitchen and busied herself with making tea, her ears attuned to any move he
might make. It was nerve-racking to wait for his announcement, whatever it was.
There was always something simmering in Logan’s brilliant mind. Every move was
thought out with meticulous care.

 When she went back in, he
was stretched out in the chair, his head resting back, his eyes closed, and
Abigail sat down carefully, quite prepared to wait and definitely not willing
to prompt him. He looked tired, as if he were carrying some great burden, and
she wondered if he thought now of his mother and father. Did the memory of them
eat into his days? Was that why over the last four years he had become almost
superhuman to most people in the business world with his astonishing ability to
work all hours?

His
lashes shadowed his high cheekbones, faint lines of weariness showed around his
eyes and she longed for the right to go across and kneel in front of him to
rest her head against his knee in the way she had done so often when they’d
been together.  ‘What are your plans?’

The grey
eyes had opened. He was watching her and Abigail gave a guilty start before she
answered.

‘That all
depends on how you intend to act,’ she said quietly. ‘If you’re coming in to
take over then I’ll have to be there to brief you, I suppose. After that, I
intend in leave. If, on the other hand, you’re going to work from the
background and help that way then I’ll have to stay until my father is able to
take over. That being the case, I’ll leave then.’