Ruthless Tycoon, Innocent Wife Page 14

  ‘I’ll be fine.’ He stepped back and into the night after one last kiss. ‘Go back to sleep.’

  She watched him slide into the car and remained standing in the doorway as it purred out of the drive, his arm waving out of the window. She remained standing there until the night air made her shiver and then she slowly shut the door, climbing the stairs to bed, where she lay wide-eyed until it was time to get up.

  Rafe phoned her from the plane but it was a quick call and she could tell his mind was already in America. Knowing the sort of man he was, she had expected nothing less. She had walked down to see Andrew and Crystal once she had let the builders in and work was underway, and she could tell Rafe’s father was anxious, both about the plight of the family who had been hurt and the repercussions it might have for the business.

  It was a full twenty-four hours before Rafe called again and he had been on her mind constantly, awake and asleep. She could tell he was tired and working on automatic; exhaustion was in every syllable he uttered, but the news was better than it might have been. The two children were apparently out of danger, they had been suffering from smoke inhalation, but the father had been badly burnt trying to rescue them and wasn’t out of the woods by any means. Investigations were proceeding as to the cause of the fire and more would be known in the next few days.

  Marianne didn’t prolong the call, urging him gently to get some sleep before she said goodbye, but once it was finished she paced about the house for some time, needing him, wanting him. But she had to get used to this if they were going to have any sort of relationship at all, she warned herself later that day. America was where his home was—he had a modern bachelor pad full of gimmicks and gadgets, according to Andrew—and where he worked. His whole life was there. His wider family of aunts and uncles and cousins on his mother’s side, his friends, his history.

  It wasn’t a comforting thought to brood on but she could not get it out of her head. When he had been here with her, when her whole being had been swept up in the wonder of it all, she hadn’t really considered the practicalities of a long-distance relationship. Now she could think of little else as problems—or potential problems—were rearing their heads. But they would work it out. They had to.

  The next day Marianne was on tenterhooks waiting for the phone to ring, but when it did it was never Rafe. She went to bed angry with herself for being so disappointed. He’d told her he was going to be tied up with all manner of problems and life would be hectic, she reminded herself fiercely. It didn’t mean he didn’t want to speak to her, merely that he was unable to. He was dealing with such an awful situation—of course that had to come first. Those poor children, and their father and mother…It was terrible for them all.

  It wasn’t as if she didn’t have more than enough to keep her busy here either. The new kitchen was now up and running but in need of more appliances. The old kitchen had been transformed into a lovely bright and sunny family room and she needed to choose furniture and toys for that, along with a big TV, CD player and computer. The suites for disabled guests had been completed the day before and again were now awaiting her attention regarding furnishings, colour schemes and the like.

  Tomorrow would be Saturday and the builders did not come at the weekend, but on Monday morning they were due to start the walkway and construction of the flat where she and Crystal would live. She found she had mixed feelings about this. One, because it would be strange to be living in Seacrest but separate from it, too. Two, once this last section of the project was finished she would have to fulfil her part of the bargain and become a fully fledged hotelier and she didn’t know how she would take to it. Certainly she would be dancing attendance on the guests and her life would not be her own in the same way it had been. Three, with her working all hours and Rafe halfway across the world, she was frightened he would begin to cool in his affections. And what if the hotel didn’t succeed? What if she and Crystal failed miserably? That would put a strain on her and Rafe’s relationship, too.

  She went to sleep worrying and woke up worrying, and when she came in from doing some weeding in the garden she had put off for weeks she could have cried when she realised she hadn’t had her mobile with her and had missed a call from Rafe. She listened to his deep smoky voice but it sounded different, somehow, coming from all those miles away. He was obviously at some meeting or restaurant or other because there was a hubbub in the background and laughter now and again.

  ‘Hi, Marianne. It’s Rafe. I’m sorry you’re not able to pick up because this is the last time I’ll be able to phone over the weekend. Just to let you know they’ve discovered the father apparently left a cigarette burning—in a non-smoking hotel.’ The last had been grim but he went on, ‘Obviously the poor guy paid for his mistake big time. He’s going to pull through, by the way, and the kids are fine now and home with their mother. Look, the builders won’t be coming back on Monday. I thought I’d better let you know. Don’t worry about it though, it’s all in hand.’

  Marianne’s brow wrinkled as she stared at her mobile. Not coming? But why hadn’t they contacted her? Why Rafe, who was on the other side of the world? That didn’t make sense. In fact, thinking about it, it was damn insulting.

  She didn’t have time to ponder further because he went on, ‘Just let everything remain as it is until I’m back and then I can sort it, OK?’ And then she heard it. Distinctly. A woman’s throaty laugh and then a voice saying, ‘Rafe? Aren’t you done yet? Come on, darling. I’m absolutely starving.’

  There was a muffled sound next as though he had put his hand over the phone, and then his voice came again, saying, ‘I have to go but I’m hoping to be back the middle of next week. We can talk then and I’ll explain—’ He paused, clearly thinking better of what he had been about to say. ‘We can talk then,’ he said again. ‘Bye, sweetheart.’

  His voice had softened on the last two words, becoming warm and silky, but he could have yelled them for all the good it did. He was with a woman. She stared at the phone and nearly threw the offending article at the window. He had phoned her while he was with a woman. She felt sick, her stomach churning so badly she had to sit down on the sofa. And what had he meant about the explaining bit? There had been something odd about it and she wasn’t imagining it.

  Her heart thudding so hard it threatened to jump out of her chest and her ears ringing, she sat for some minutes trying to compose herself. Think, think, she told herself. She could be letting her mind run away with itself here. That woman—she didn’t have to be a date. She could be…her thinking process hiccuped and then went on…a business colleague or something of that sort. It was possible. It was—it was possible. Oh, God, please let it be, she prayed desperately. Please, please don’t let him be with her. She wouldn’t be able to bear it.

  She sat in numb misery for some time, the lunch she had come in to prepare forgotten. She had to trust him. That was what you did if you loved someone. She couldn’t think the worst of him. He had been so genuine that morning he had called to see her and said he wanted to give them a chance.

  But what if the last weeks hadn’t meant the same to him as they had to her? What if the pull of his old life was stronger? They had laughed together, walked together, visited a hundred different places and talked deeply about their lives, but never once had he said the words she had been longing to hear. That he loved her. But then she had known he was a man who did not betray his feelings easily at the best of times, and yet he had opened up to her in a way she knew he hadn’t to anyone else. He wasn’t that good an actor that he could have fooled her on that point.

  She chewed her thumb nail down to the quick and then fixed herself a sandwich before returning to the weeding. The sky was blue, the air warm and birds were twittering happily as they sunned themselves in the trees surrounding the garden. Crazy, but she wished it was raining. She wished there was a gale force wind blowing and everything was dank and gloomy. She wouldn’t feel so at odds with her surroundings then.

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nbsp; She continued to mull over the conversation with Rafe for the next hour, after which she came to a decision. She had the foreman’s mobile number for emergencies. She would give him a ring and at least find out what was happening to prevent them keeping to the plan. That hadn’t seemed right. There had definitely been something in Rafe’s voice that she couldn’t place.

  He answered straight away and when she explained the reason for her call there was a blank silence on the other end of the phone for some moments. Just when she was about to speak, he said, ‘Have you spoken to Rafe about this, love?’

  ‘I told you, he said you weren’t going to come but it was all in hand and he’d deal with it when he got back. I can’t understand why you didn’t ring me, George, and furthermore I think I’m entitled to an explanation. Have you got problems on another job? Is that it? I’d like to think you know I would be reasonable and—’

  ‘Look, love, it wasn’t me who rang Rafe but the other way round.’

  ‘What?’ She frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘He rang and said he wanted us to hold our horses for a few days. That’s as much as I know, all right? He said he’d cover it financially when I pointed out we’d got an agreement, but he was adamant he didn’t want any more work doing on the house till he’d spoken to me in person. I asked him if he was dissatisfied with our work and he said no, it wasn’t anything like that. And then that was it.’ He paused. ‘Rum going on, if you ask me.’

  Marianne agreed. It was a rum going on.

  ‘Does the old un, his dad, know what’s going on?’ George said after a second or two.

  ‘I don’t know.’ She hadn’t wanted to bother Andrew—he was already so worried about the problem in America—but now she felt she had to. ‘I’ll get in touch with him.’

  ‘You do that, love. And you might point out we’ve another job after yours and we can’t put it back by much. He’s paying us to stand round kicking our heels the way I see it, and each day we don’t work is a day lost.’ George had a habit of stating the obvious.

  Marianne changed out of her grubby jeans and top into a light cotton dress after she had washed her hands, brushing her hair through. She decided to walk to the cottage and as she passed the spot where she and Rafe had talked that momentous night she felt a slight chill in the breeze which hadn’t been there the day before. September was upon them and the summer was nearly over, she thought with a shiver which had nothing to do with the weather.

  When she reached the cottage it was to find Andrew dozing in a deckchair in the garden after his lunch and Crystal busy baking in the kitchen. Rather than wake Andrew, she sat with Crystal in the kitchen, the delicious smell of homemade bread filling the room. Crystal was the only person she knew who made all her own bread and pastry.

  ‘He’s done what?’ Crystal stopped what she was doing and stared at her in amazement when Marianne explained the reason for her visit. ‘Well, I’m sure Andrew knows nothing about it or he would have said.’

  ‘I can’t understand it, Crystal. And he was…strange. It was an odd phone call altogether, to be honest. He…he had a woman there with him.’

  ‘A woman?’ Crystal’s eye sharpened on Marianne’s troubled face. ‘Someone who works for him, you mean? A business colleague?’

  Marianne shrugged. ‘She called him darling.’

  ‘Oh, Annie.’ Crystal sat down very suddenly on one of the kitchen stools. ‘Andrew said—’ She stopped abruptly.

  ‘What?’ Marianne stared at her. ‘What did Andrew say?’

  ‘Nothing—I shouldn’t have said.’

  ‘Yes, you should.’ There was a lead weight in her stomach. ‘What did he say, Crystal?’

  ‘Nothing really. I mean, he doesn’t know anything—’ Crystal stopped abruptly. ‘What I mean is, he had reservations about you and Rafe. He was worried for you. Not that he doesn’t think Rafe cares for you, that’s been apparent all along, but after Fiona Rafe swore he’d never settle down again. And you, well, you’re not the sort of person for a brief affair, are you? And I know you like Rafe. More than like him, perhaps?’

  ‘Do you think he’s decided to pull out of the hotel venture?’ Marianne asked numbly.

  ‘No, no, I’m sure not. Why would he do that?’

  Because he felt he’d got in way over his head here? Because withdrawing from the deal would mean he could cut his losses and run? The expenditure so far would mean nothing to him; he could take that in his stride and barely notice it. And perhaps he thought he had set her up with a nice renovated property as compensation? Certainly Andrew hadn’t got as involved as Rafe had expected. Rafe’s father seemed perfectly happy spending all his time with Crystal. Maybe he thought that with the hotel idea squashed, Crystal might take on the role of permanent housekeeper to his father? That would round things up nicely. Drawing on all her strength, she managed to say calmly, ‘I don’t know why he would pull out, Crystal. In fact, I think I don’t know him at all. I thought I did…’ Her voice trailed away.

  ‘You say he said he’s coming back the middle of the week?’

  Marianne nodded.

  ‘Then would you not mention it to Andrew before then, for my sake? He’s been so worried about this fire in America and I don’t want anything else to upset him and put him back a bit. He’s done so well the last weeks and he’s such a dear man—’ Crystal stopped suddenly, as though aware she had said too much.

  Marianne stared at Crystal. How could she have been so blind to what was happening under her nose? But she had been so obsessed with Rafe that nothing else had registered. Her voice soft, she said, ‘Does Andrew feel the same, Crystal?’

  Crystal’s plump face turned a vivid shade of pink. Silently she nodded. ‘We didn’t plan for it to happen and Andrew hasn’t told Rafe yet but last night he asked me to marry him. Since he’s been over here he’s gone into remission but there are no guarantees and we want to make the most of every moment.’ She stopped. ‘Oh, Annie, I didn’t want to tell you like this.’

  ‘I’m so glad for you both.’ Stepping forward, she hugged Crystal hard, her head spinning. Crystal and Andrew. Crystal and Andrew. But why not? Why not, indeed? Thinking about it, they were perfect for each other. ‘You deserve this,’ she said warmly. ‘No one deserves happiness more than you.’

  ‘Stop it, you’re making me cry.’

  They both cried and then Crystal made a pot of coffee and they sat together, discussing when and where the nuptials could take place. ‘Andrew wants to tell Rafe face to face,’ Crystal said quietly a little later when Marianne got up to go. She was thrilled for Crystal and she had meant every word she said but she needed to be on her own and consider what this new complication meant. ‘He thought a lot of his mother and Andrew isn’t sure how he’ll feel.’

  ‘He’ll be as pleased as I am,’ Marianne said warmly, and she meant it. ‘He likes you very much, Crystal, and he knows you’ve been so good for his father over the last little while. He wouldn’t begrudge you both your happiness.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Crystal gave a nervous little smile. ‘But Rafe’s so hard to figure out, isn’t he?’

  Oh, yes.

  She took her time walking home. Once there, she wandered round the house for a long time, stroking a piece of furniture here, touching a picture there, tears coursing down her face. Something was terribly wrong. She knew it.

  Eventually she walked out into the garden, taking a book she knew she wouldn’t read and making her way to the bench near the wall. Purple shadows were already stretching their long fingers over the lawn and the birds were busy having their last meal before night fell. She sat and watched a blackbird stamping on the ground to bring a worm he had spotted to the surface, his bright black eyes checking on her every so often to make sure she was staying still. He flew off after his meal, singing as he went.

  She wasn’t going to call Rafe. She looked back at the house, dozing gently in the late evening sunshine, sun-spangled shadows bathing its white walls. And she
wouldn’t pick up the call if he phoned her. The next time she spoke to him, she wanted it to be face to face. Whatever had happened, whatever had changed—and she was now positive something had—she wanted to hear it from him in person. The temptation to start questioning him if she spoke to him before he was back in England would be too strong and she didn’t want to burst into tears on him. She was going to get through this with some dignity, no matter what happened. Her back straightened slightly and her jaw tightened. She would have all the time in the world to shout and scream and cry an ocean once it was over and she was alone.

  Marianne’s throat constricted. ‘Stop it,’ she said sternly. She wasn’t going to be like this. Whatever happened in the next few days, when she saw Rafe again, she would cope. Anything else was not an option.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  RAFE phoned three times before he left America the following Wednesday and, true to her word, Marianne did not speak to him. By the third call his voice had been flat and cool. It did not intimidate her as it would have done just days earlier. ‘So you’ve finally realised I’m not as stupid as I look,’ she said grimly to the telephone when she had listened to his message. ‘Good. Because if you expect me to fall on your neck and beg you to make a go of things, you picked the wrong girl.’

  Then she closed her eyes and leant back in the sofa. Her body was so tense it hurt. She had gone through every emotion known to man in the last few days but one thing remained constant. She loved him. More fool her.

  Thursday dawned cold and wet, sea mist swirling in the garden when she opened her bedroom curtains and the whole world was grey. From experience, Marianne knew the weather could change in hours; by that afternoon the view could be bathed in sunlight and the air warm. She hoped it would remain as it was. It suited what was going to happen so much better.

  She forced herself to eat a slice of toast although she had never felt less like food in her life and then settled down with a pile of brochures on colour schemes. She had absolutely no idea why she was continuing to plan out each room in the house except that if she didn’t do something she would go mad. One thing was for sure, if Rafe did pull the plug on the hotel idea—and she was now sure he was going to—Seacrest belonged to him. Even if he suggested she live here, she couldn’t. Crystal was OK now, she didn’t have to worry about her any more, so she would become a free agent. She could move back to London and find herself a job and take up her old life. She had been happy before Rafe. She would be happy again.