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Authors: Sara Craven

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BOOK: Comparative Strangers
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‘That’s a pity.’

He shrugged, ‘That’s the way it goes.’ He looked at her. ‘You’re an only child?’

She nodded. ‘Didn’t Nigel tell you?’

‘He actually told me very little about you, except that you were engaged, accompanied by a reluctant invitation to meet you and your mother.’

Amanda smiled wryly. That was a rather heavy evening. I had the feeling you didn’t altogether approve of me.‘

That would have been very presumptuous of me.‘ He added, after a pause, ’I think I was merely amazed that Nigel had decided to settle down. Also, we’d had a row on the way here. Nigel is due to inherit some shares in the company on his marriage, and he wanted to push matters forward. I had to tell him it couldn’t be done, and he wasn’t very pleased. He thought I should have bent the rules in his favour.‘

‘Could you have done so?’ she asked gravely.

He said, ‘No,’ and there was a silence. Then he said. ‘May I help with the washing up?’

There isn’t any. I simply load the dishwasher.‘ Amanda got up. ’And, as it’s rather ancient and temperamental, it prefers a hand it knows.‘

‘Then I’ll make the coffee,‘ he said promptly. He had beautiful teeth when he smiled, she noticed. ’Don’t look so stunned, Amanda. I’m reasonably house-trained. If you’ll show me where the sheets and blankets are kept, I’ll even make up my own bed.‘

‘It’s already done,’ she began, and paused as the phone began to ring again.

‘Load the dishwasher,’ Malory said. 'I'll answer it.‘

Amanda found that her hands were trembling as she scraped the dishes and put them into the machine.

‘Wrong number,’ Malory said briefly when he returned, but she didn’t believe him.

They drank their coffee in the drawing-room, watching a re-run of
The French Connection
. Watching Malory covertly, Amanda decided that the violence of the New York drugs scene must be as far removed from his environment as it was possible to get.

‘He’s got a bijou residence where he’s waited on hand and foot by devoted retainers’ Nigel had told her once, derisively. ’And when he’s not at the labs trying to produce a wonder-drug that will cure every known disease, he’s in his box at the opera. Coming into contact with the real world must be a hell of a shock to his system. Fortunately for him, he doesn’t have to do it very often.‘

But today’s events had been the real world with a vengeance, Amanda thought with a little sigh, which she hastily converted into a yawn as he looked at her.

‘You’re tired?’

‘I think I must be.’ It wasn’t strictly the truth, but she was eager to go upstairs and shut her door. The evening had turned into a rather unnerving experience, and it wasn’t altogether due to the crank calls. Sharing this kind of intimacy with Malory was—strange, and she would be glad when it was over.

She had tried phoning her mother earlier, but there was no reply, and she guessed that she and Elaine had gone to the theatre. I’ll have to get through to her in the morning, she thought.

And then, slowly and painfully, she would try to get her life back on to an even keel again—learning to live without Nigel.

She yawned ostentatiously, and got to her feet. ‘Well—goodnight. I hope you have everything you need.’ She tried a smile. I’m sorry I can’t provide pyjamas.‘

‘That’s no sacrifice. I never wear them’ He had risen, too, and was walking over to her. Amanda had kicked off her shoes as she often did, and she felt oddly dwarfed suddenly.

He said quietly, “Goodnight, Amanda, sleep well.‘ And for one brief, troubled moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, and her whole body went into shock at the idea.

She found she was backing away, babbling something incoherent about the spark-guard for the fire, and fled.

She was still awake an hour later when he came upstairs to bed, but he passed her door without hesitating, and she lay in the darkness, castigating herself for having behaved like an idiot in front of him, yet again.

She was just asking herself for the umpteenth time where the harm would have been in a brief, farewell peck on the cheek, and still receiving no satisfactory answer, when she fell asleep.

 

The crash seemed to shatter the room. For one terrified, screaming moment, Amanda thought the cottage had been bombed, then she made herself reach for the switch of the bedside lamp, realising as she did so that a strong current of cold air was reaching her from somewhere.

As the lamp came on, she cried out. There was a gaping hole in the middle of her window-pane, and a half-brick lay on the carpet, surrounded by shards of broken glass. There were even some splinters on her duvet, she realised, shuddering.

Her door opened, and Malory put his head, and one bare, surprisingly muscular, shoulder into the room.

‘What the hell was that?’ he demanded, then stopped. ‘Christ!’

‘Don’t come in.’ Amanda’s voice shook. There’s glass everywhere.‘

‘I’ve no intention of coming in until I’ve put something on,’ he said curtly. ‘In the meantime, stay exactly where you are’

He was back, it seemed, within seconds, still fastening his zip as he came into the room.

Amanda said with a little sob, ‘It must be vandals.’

‘Of course.’ His voice was heavily ironic. ‘There are always hordes of them at this time of year.’ He looked around him. 'Where are your slippers?‘

‘With your pyjamas.’

His mouth tightened. ‘Then it seems I’ll have to provide transport.’ As he approached the bed, Amanda could hear glass scrunching under his feet. He leaned down and pulled back the duvet. ‘Put your arms round my neck, and I’ll carry you,’ he directed.

‘Carry me where?’ Amanda made an unavailing snatch at the duvet, thankful that her nightgown had been bought for cosiness rather than glamour.

‘To the room I’m using,’ he said, rather too patiently.

She swallowed. ‘But where will you go?’

'I'll clear up the glass and fasten something over that window, then spend what remains of the night in here.‘ He paused. ’Or have you some objection?‘

She said, ‘Aren’t you going to see if you can find—whoever did this?’

His mouth twisted. ‘“Whoever” is probably in a car, and well away by this time. I’m not embarking on any wild-goose chase at this hour of the morning. Now, shall we make a start?’ He bent towards her and, reluctantly, Amanda allowed herself to be lifted out of bed and into his arms.

He wasn’t anywhere near as effete as she’d thought, she discovered with amazement. He’d picked her up without the slightest effort, and she could feel the play of his muscles under her hand as she steadied herself.

On the landing, she said, ‘There isn’t any glass here, so you can put me down,’ and he obeyed so promptly it was almost an insult.

He said prosaically, ‘Where will I find a dustpan and brush?’

‘In the kitchen cupboard, next to the back door.’ She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘And there are some cardboard boxes, too, that you might be able to use to cover the window.’ She put a hand to her head. ‘Oh, this is all crazy! None of it can be happening.’

‘Of course it isn’t.’ Malory gave her a gentle push in the direction of the spare room. ‘Now, go and get some rest and tell yourself in the morning that it’s all been a bad dream.’

But she couldn’t relax. Lying in the warm hollow his body had created, Amanda listened tensely to the sounds of movement along the passage. When they eventually ceased, she called to him.

‘What’s the matter?’ He came to stand in the doorway.

‘I’m frightened.’ Her teeth were chattering, but not because she was cold. ‘Do you think he—they will come back?’

If he’d noticed that revealing self-correction, he made no comment. ‘I don’t think so. I imagine the purpose of the exercise—to give you a good fright— has been achieved.’

She stared at him. ‘You really do think it’s Nigel, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ His voice was matter of fact.

‘It can’t be!’ she denied vehemently. ‘No grown man could be so—childish.’

He smiled. ‘I don’t think you can have known a great many grown men,’ he said with a touch of cynicism. ‘But perhaps we could continue this debate in the morning. I’d like to get some sleep.’

A voice she hardly recognised as hers said, ‘I don’t want to be on my own. Stay with me— please?’ She saw the blank incredulity in his face and began to stammer, ‘I—I don’t mean…’

He said rather drily, ‘I’m sure you don’t.’ He hesitated. ‘Very well, Amanda. I should have rethat appointing myself your guardian would have its drawbacks.’ He walked over to the bed. ‘At the same time, I hope you don’t think I plan to spend the rest of the night in that chair or on the floor.’ He kicked off his shoes, and lay down beside her, on top of the quilt. ‘This seems a suitably chaste arrangement under the circumstances.’

She ventured, ‘But won’t you be rather cold? You can use the duvet, if you want.’

He said evenly, ‘No, thank you. Don’t push your luck, Amanda. In spite of anything Nigel may have told you, I am not a eunuch.’ He reached out and switched off the lamp. ‘Now, go to sleep.’

Face burning, she mumbled, ‘Goodnight.’

She must be completely insane, she thought, asking Malory to share a bed with her like this, but the prospect of lying alone in the darkness, waiting for the next unnerving incident, was more than she could bear. She hadn’t really stopped to consider Malory’s feelings or reactions at all.

Yet she couldn’t deny the reassurance of the weight of his body beside her on the bed, and the steadiness of his breathing. She didn’t feel she deserved this kindness from him, but it seemed to be there for her, just the same.

With a little sigh, she closed her eyes, and within a few minutes, against all her expectations, was fast asleep.

She awoke slowly the next morning to the aroma of frying bacon, and lay for a few minutes staring at her unfamiliar surroundings, wondering confusedly why she wasn’t in her own room. Then remembrance flooded back, and she shot out of bed and down the passage to her doorway.

The square of cardboard over the broken window was like some grim exclamation mark, she thought, as she trod with care to the wardrobe and extracted jeans and a sweater. She washed and dressed swiftly, and ran downstairs.

Malory was seated at the kitchen table. The smile he sent her was polite, but guarded. ‘I was just coming to wake you,’ he said. ‘Your breakfast is keeping warm.’

Blushing a little, she brought her plate to the table and sat down opposite him. ‘You shouldn’t wait on me’ She added self-consciously, ‘I—I went out like a light, last night.’

‘So I noticed.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I really should be going. Is there someone in the village who can fix that window for you?’

‘Mr Ambrose does all the jobs like that. I’ll phone him presently.’ She smiled awkwardly. ‘You seem to have got rid of the broken glass.’

‘I used the vacuum first thing, while you were still giving your Sleeping Beauty performance.’

‘Oh.’ Amanda swallowed. ‘You did that? Well, it makes me feel worse than ever—about everything.’

‘Entirely unnecessary,’ he said calmly. ‘Last night, you needed a friend. Well, you’ve got one.’ He held out a hand to her. ‘Agreed?’

She allowed his fingers to close round hers. ‘Agreed.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been such a fool.’

‘You’re probably entitled to be.’ He gave her a searching look. ‘Will you be all right alone today, or is there someone who could stay with you?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she said brightly. ‘And my mother will be returning later.’

‘Excellent.’ He got to his feet. ‘Goodbye, then.’

And this time, Amanda discovered, he really had left. When she checked, trying to be casual about it, a little while later, his car had vanished. And so, apparently, had he—on a permanent basis.

She wandered back into the cottage and shut the door. In spite of his remark about being her friend, she never expected to see Malory again. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to.

He must think she was a complete nutcase, she told herself, and, what was worse, something of a tease as well.

Stay with me

please
, she mimicked herself savagely. God, what must he have thought? She was lucky he hadn’t even made a token pass. And it wasn’t very flattering to his masculinity that she hadn’t really considered such an eventuality when she’d made her plea. She’d only been thinking in terms of companionship and comfort.

Perhaps, in spite of his rather edged remark, he didn’t have a very high sex-drive, she thought, shrugging. It occurred to her with an ache of her heart that Nigel would have made more than the most of such an opportunity.

No, Malory was a mystery all right, and she had enough confusion in her life already, without embarking on the pointless exercise of trying to figure out what made him tick.

Ships that pass in the night, she told herself resolutely as she headed to the phone to call Mr Ambrose. And better that she and Malory Templeton remain that way. Far better.

CHAPTER THREE

BOOK: Comparative Strangers
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