Dark Summer Dawn (3 page)

She would have to write to Julie, maybe not tomorrow, but some time soon, and make some excuse. Because there was no way she was ever going back to Stoniscliffe while Dane was there, and Dane was always there now. It was a grief to her. She missed Chas, and the big grey house on the edge of the Dales, but she had to keep away because she never wanted to see or speak to Dane Riderwood again.

The ring at the doorbell made her start, because she wasn't expecting visitors, although there were any number of people who would know she was back from the West Indies by now and could be dropping in. She grimaced slightly at the thought of her appearance, no make-up and hair tied up in a turban, and was strongly tempted not to answer it, but the bell rang again imperatively, and there was little point in pretending she wasn't at home when the caller could see the light shining under the door.

Pushing the litter of papers and envelopes off her lap, she called, 'All right, I'm coming!'

She was smiling a little as she opened the door, because it was more than probably Simon who had shown signs of becoming besotted with her just before she had flown off on this last assignment, and she liked Simon even if she was a long way from falling in love herself.

She began, 'You've caught me at a bad moment. I'm…'

And then she stopped, the words dying on her lips as she saw exactly who it was, standing on her doorstep, waiting for admittance.

'Hello, Lisa,' said Dane Riderwood.

CHAPTER TWO

For a moment she could neither speak nor move, and her breathing felt oddly constricted. It was like a nightmare— as if Dane was some demon that her thoughts had conjured up. All these months she had never allowed herself to think about him at all, she had closed him out, incised him from her brain.

Now Julie's letter had reluctantly forced open the floodof her memory, and she had walked through the past like some forbidden city. 'Talk of the devil,' people used to say, 'and he's sure to appear.' And it was true because the devil was here with her now.

She made a grab for the door intending to slam it in his face, but her momentary hesitation had been her undoing, because he had already forecast her intention and walked into the room.

He said, 'Allow me.' And he closed the door himself, shutting them in together.

Lisa said between her teeth, 'Get out of here!'

'When I'm ready.' His voice was as cool as ever. He had hardly changed at all physically from the first time she had set eyes on him. The lines on his face had deepened with maturity, but his body still had the spare lithe grace of some predatory animal. He moved forward and she recoiled instinctively. He threw back his head and stared at her for a moment, his eyes hooded, their expression enigmatic.

'Relax,' he advised caustically. 'The sooner you hear what I have to say, the sooner I can be gone, which is what we both want.'

'What the hell are you doing here?' she almost whispered.

'I'm not preparing to carry out the fell purposes you seem to have in mind,' he snapped back at her. 'For God's sake, Lisa, sit down and behave like a civilised human being.'

'What would you know about civilised behaviour?' She was beginning to tremble inwardly and she folded her arms defensively across her body. 'Just say whatever you came to say and get out.'

'Ever the gracious hostess.' Dane walked past her, looked with a lift of his eyebrow at the littered sofa, then sat down in the chair opposite. 'You're very nervous,' he commented. 'What's the matter? You said I'd called at a bad moment when you opened the door. Are you—entertaining?' His eyes went over her derisively, establishing beyond doubt that he knew quite well she was naked under the old towelling robe, and she flushed angrily.

'No, I'm not,' she grated, and could have kicked herself. Perhaps if she'd lied and said, 'Yes—someone's waiting for me in the bedroom right now,' he might have left.

'Then I'm fortunate to find you alone,' he said smoothly. 'I'd like some coffee.'

For a moment Lisa stood glaring at him impotently, then she turned and went into the small kitchen. The towel round her hair was slipping and she tore it off impatiently, thrusting it into the small linen basket next to the washing machine. Her hands were shaking so much she could hardly spoon the coffee into the percolator. She began to set a tray with brown pottery mugs, pouring creamy milk into a matching jug. She heard a slight sound behind her, and glancing over her shoulder, realised that Dane was standing in the doorway watching her.

'Do you have sugar?' She made her voice cool and social.

'You've a bad memory, Lisa,' he said sardonically. 'How many years did we live under the same roof, and how many cups of coffee did you pour for me? No, I don't have sugar, and never have done.'

'Too many,' she muttered.

'Well, that's one thing at least we can agree on,' he said. He strolled forward, trapping her between his body and the worktop behind her. He put out a hand and tilted her chin, studying her face critically.

His touch sent every nerve-ending in her body screaming. She wanted to strike his hand away. She wanted to use her nails and teeth to free herself like a cornered animal, but it would be no good, she knew. He was the stronger, and he would not hesitate to use his strength.

He said silkily, 'You don't change, do you, Lisa? I remember you all those years ago—a little hostile creature, all hair and eyes.'

She smiled, a little meaningless stretching of her lips. 'How odd you should say that. I was thinking much the same about you. Oh, not the hair, of course, but the hostility —and the eyes. They haven't altered at all. They're still cold.'

As cold and as cruel as January, she silently added, meeting their greyness, noticing how their bleak light remained unsoftened by the heavy fringing of dark lashes.

Dane said, 'Cold?' and smiled. 'Is that what you really think? Surely not.'

Her breathing quickened a little. 'You wouldn't like to hear what I really think. Now if you want this coffee, you'd better let me make it.'

He flung up his hands in mock capitulation and moved away, and Lisa felt limp with relief.

When she carried the tray through to the living room, he had resumed his seat by the fire and was smoking a cigar. She felt a sudden surge of nostalgia as the scent of the smoke reached her. Chas had always smoked cigars and their faint aroma had hung round the house at Stoniscliffe whenever he was there, as if it was Christmas every day,

Jennifer had said, laughing.

She put the tray down.' What happened to the cigarettes?'

'I gave them up about eighteen months ago.' He gestured to the cigar. 'Do you object to this?'

'No, of course not.' She subdued an impulse to add it was the least objectionable thing about him, and poured the coffee instead. 'Why do you ask?'

He gave a slight shrug. 'It doesn't fit in with the image here. A masculine intrusion into a purely feminine environment.' He paused. 'Or at least that's the assumption I'm making. Perhaps I'm wrong.'

'Perhaps you are,' she agreed.

He glanced around, brows lifted. 'You don't live alone?'

'I don't live alone.'

Dane was very still for a moment, then he moved abruptly, tapping a sliver of ash from the tip of the cigar. 'Of course not. May one ask where he is?'

'No, I don't think so,' she said calmly. 'Perhaps now you'd like to tell me what you want from me.'

'Not a thing, sweetheart—now or ever.' His voice bit. 'Let's get that firmly established, shall we? I haven't come blundering in on your idyll on my behalf but on Julie's.'

'Julie's?' She was startled, her eyes flying to the creased letter.

His gaze followed hers and his mouth tightened. 'It looks as if I've made a wasted journey. Nevertheless I'll say what I've come to say. Julie's panicking because she hasn't heard from you. She's desperate for you to come home and help with the wedding. She wants to know why you haven't written or phoned.'

Lisa said, 'I only got her letter today. I've been away— abroad. I only returned yesterday.'

'The contents don't seem to have impressed you very much.' Dane was leaning back in the chair, watching her from beneath lowered lids.

'You and I both know,' she said tautly, 'that there is no way I'm ever going back to Stoniscliffe. You'll have to stall Julie—find some explanation that will satisfy her.'

'I can't think of one,' he said. 'And even if I could, I doubt if it would satisfy Chas. He can't wait for you to come—back.'

She noted ironically the small hesitation and wondered whether the word he'd stumbled over had been 'home'.

'How is he?' She wasn't merely trying to change the angle of the subject under discussion. She really wanted to know. Letters were pretty unrevealing, and she had kept hers amusing and busy, providing excuse after excuse for not returning to Yorkshire.

'If you really wanted to know, you would have gone to see for yourself,' Dane said harshly. 'How the hell do you hink he is—trapped in a wheelchair for the rest of his life!'

'A wheelchair?' She gaped at him, her head reeling in disbelief. 'What do you mean?'

'He had a stroke,' Dane said curtly. 'It's left him partly paralysed. He can walk a few yards with difficulty and use one hand.'

Lisa shook her head. 'He said he hadn't been well, but he never even hinted…'

'Why should he? If you'd cared, you!d have gone to see.'

'That's your reasoning, not his.' She glared at him.

'Perhaps,' he said. 'He always was too soft with you—too ready to make excuses. He wouldn't write and ask you to come back because he's terrified of pity. He's a strong man who's suddenly found a physical weakness he can't command or overcome, and it's been a struggle for him. He has a nurse living in, but he doesn't ask for help or sympathy from anyone else. He's counting on Julie's wedding to bring you back to Stoniscliffe. I could have told him it was a forlorn hope.'

'That's not true!' Her throat felt thick and tight. 'I—I love Chas.'

'So you've always protested. According to you, you asked for nothing better than to be a daughter to him and a sister to Julie. Well, now's your chance. Live up to your words.'

'It isn't as easy as you think.' She was arguing against herself now, not him, although he wasn't to know that. 'I have a career—commitments.'

'As you've already made clear.' His mouth twisted a little. 'Couldn't you convince him that you also have a commitment to Chas—a prior commitment? Unless, of course, you no longer see it that way. As for your so-called career,' he shrugged, 'I imagine it would survive a slight hiccup like Julie's wedding.'

'You can sneer all you want,' she said furiously, 'but it's my life. It isn't the sort of success you would recognise, but I'm happy. What did you expect me to do—become a "little typist" like my mother?'

'When you can capitalise on your considerable assets? Hardly.' Dane looked her over. 'You must have one of the best known faces and bodies in the country. How does the man in your life like having to share you with the fantasies of thousands of others?'

She shifted her head. 'He survives.' She'd deliberately led him to believe that there was such a man, so there was no point in screaming at him that her face and body belonged to herself alone, that in front of the cameras she played the role Jos had written for her, no more no less, and all it needed now was for Dinah, who was away on tour in the Midlands, to walk in and blow the whole stupid pretence sky high.