Sinful Nights (50 page)

Already it was November. Christmas loomed on the horizon, and unless she wanted the house to be in a total state of uproar over the Christmas holiday she would have to get a move on with her plans for the house, Claire realised as she picked up the brochures Jay had brought for her.

After supper jay disappeared into his study, and Claire curled up on the leather couch, her feet tucked up underneath her as she browsed through the leaflets. There was a range of Victorian reproduction sanitaryware, which she thought was bound to impress the Americans, and she put the details on one side, turning to concentrate on the photographs of various types of reproduction plasterwork.

The large drawing room would lend itself very nicely to that sort of embellishment, and although not strictly Georgian, the house was old enough, the rooms high-ceilinged enough to take that sort of decorative detail. The thought struck her that she could probably get some sort of inspiration as to how to use the mouldings to
best effect by studying photographs of original Adam-style rooms.

Jay had pointed out to her that although several firms manufactured similar products, they prided themselves on genuinely making an effort to reproduce even the finest detail of the original plasterwork, just as modern furniture makers were now using the original pattern books of men such as Chippendale and Hepplewhite, so that they could reproduce furniture which was comparable in quality and workmanship with the original. There was nothing either cheap or tacky about their products, Jay had told Claire, and the methods they used to make them reflected as far as possible the workmanship which had gone into the originals.

It seemed to Claire, as she studied the photographs of various mock room-settings, that both the drawing-room and dining-room could become showpieces for Jay’s products, while the panelling cold surely be an attractive addition to Jay’s study?

As she worked through the literature, she made various notes, jotting down ideas that occurred to her for new colour schemes. Here in the sitting-room she had set her heart on a comfortable country house atmosphere with deeply cushioned settees in modern chintz, and colour-washed walls. A pretty, soft golden yellow perhaps … something warm and sunny. She wanted a room that people could be at leisure in. Somewhere where the girls could play, and Jay could relax.

She glanced at the clock, stunned to see that it was almost half past eleven. It was time she went to bed. She tidied up the papers, and then got up, yawning.

As she took her coffee cup to the kitchen she saw
that there was still a light on in the study. On impulse she knocked briefly and opened the door.

Jay was sitting behind his desk, his tie loose and the top buttons of his shirt unfastened. His hair looked as though he had been pushing his fingers through it.

‘Hello, still up?’

‘Mmm. I got rather involved in my room planning. I’m going to bed now, though. Do you fancy a cup of coffee?’

‘Yes, please. I’ve got quite a lot to do yet; I could do with something to keep me awake. Did you come to any conclusions—about how we could use our products?’

‘Oh, yes, I’ve got loads of ideas … while we’re in Bath I’ll have to look round at fabric shops, that sort of thing. What is worrying me, though, is finding someone to install it properly.’

‘Oh, we’ve got our own team to do that. We don’t take the risk of having it installed by anyone else. I’ll take you down to the factory while we’re in Bath and you can meet them.’ He frowned suddenly and picked up his pen, fiddling with it.

It was an unusual gesture for him. He was normally so very decisive and assured.

‘What is it?’ Claire asked.

‘I was just thinking. If you’re re-planning the bedrooms, it might be an idea for us to have interconnecting ones—I don’t want any of our male guests getting the wrong idea.’

He meant that he didn’t want his male pride hurt by others knowing that they didn’t have a sexual relationship, Claire surmised, but she realised she was wrong when he said harshly, ‘I don’t want a repeat performance
of what happened with Susie, Claire. I don’t intend to lose you as well. If we have rooms at the opposite end of the house, you’re bound to get some opportunist who’s going to think that sexually you’re as available as Susie was. Neither of us wants that.’

She felt uncomfortably guilty when she realised that his concern had been as much for her as for himself. Every day, it seemed she learned more about him, and the more she learned, the more she wondered how on earth Susie could have not loved him. Surely, if a woman could love a man it must be this one: he was caring and kind, attractive, considerate—and strong enough to lean on if one was the leaning type.

But he no longer wanted a woman’s love, she reminded herself as she went to make them both a cup of coffee, so really it was just as well that she was incapable of giving him it.

I
N THE SCRAMBLE TO GET
the girls and herself ready for an early start, mercifully Claire hadn’t had much time to worry about the commitment she was about to make.

However, once she was inside the car, she had all the time in the world to worry about what she was doing.

Jay was a skilled but careful driver; the girls were both occupied with giggles and private chatter in the back; the music drifting from the stereo was designed to calm and relax; yet as the miles went by Claire found herself growing more and more tense, more and more convinced that she was doing the wrong thing, that she was, in fact, mad even to consider marrying. How on earth could it work?

‘Stop worrying; everything will be fine, you’ll see.
Just think, in twenty-five years from today, you and I will be celebrating our silver wedding.’

His uncanny ability to divine her thoughts unnerved her. Unlike her, Jay seemed to have no doubts about the wisdom or the stability of their marriage, but then he already had something to compare it with, something to work towards, while she …

It was too late for second thoughts, Claire told herself firmly. She had already made a commitment to Heather, even though she hadn’t yet made one to Jay, and on that count alone it was too late for going back.

Even so, she still found it hard to relax. Panic cramped through her stomach, an apprehension quite unlike any of her previous experiences enveloping her.

All the local weather seers had predicted a bad winter, and looking at the rolling countryside, held fast in the iron grip of a frost which turned the golden stubble monochrome, and lay across the bareness of the hedges like icing sugar, Claire could well believe that they were right.

In summer it was pretty countryside, but now the lavish display of autumn leaves had gone, and without the starkness that made harsher countryside look magnificent and awesome in winter, the bare fields only looked melancholic—or was that simply her imagination?

Just outside Bath, Jay turned off the main road, and drove in through an imposing gateway. Only a discreet plaque set into one of the brick pillars supporting the wrought iron gates betrayed that this was a hotel.

Beyond an avenue of bare trees Claire saw the house: soft cream Cotswold stone, the precision of a Georgian facade.

A high wall joined what Claire suspected had originally been the stable block to the main building, and Heather called out delightedly, ‘Look … it’s just like
The Secret Garden!
’

‘Look, Mummy, horses!’ Lucy, wide-eyed, tugged on her sleeve as she pressed her nose to the car window. In a paddock opposite the house several horses had gathered by the fence.

‘There’s a riding school here,’ explained Jay. ‘Lessons can be arranged for the guests.’

‘Does that mean that we can ride?’ breathed Lucy expectantly.

Since their removal to the country, Lucy had developed an intense passion for horses and ponies, and Claire suppressed a faint sigh. ‘Riding lessons are very expensive, Lucy,’ Claire cautioned, ‘and besides, Heather might not want to ride.’

‘Yes, I do. I’d like a pony of my own. We both would.’

‘I think we’re the victims of a two-pronged attack,’ Jay murmured
soto voce
to Claire, but she saw that he was smiling. ‘We probably won’t have time for riding lessons while we’re here,’ he told them, ignoring the protests of disappointment. ‘But maybe … maybe … if you’re both very good, Father Christmas …’

It was enough to produce ecstatic sighs of anticipation, and to keep them quiet as Jay stopped the car, and got out to go round and open Claire’s door.

‘Don’t worry about the luggage. Someone will come out for it. Come on, you two,’ he called to the girls as they paused to give wistful glances in the direction of the paddock.

‘Heather’s growing,’ he murmured to Claire.

‘Mmm. They both are,’ but because, obviously, no one had paid any attention to Heather’s wardrobe for quite a long time, her skirt was well above her small knees. ‘It’s going to prove an expensive couple of days,’ Claire warned Jay. ‘Both of them need new school clothes. Of course, I’ll pay for Lucy’s, but …’

‘No.’

The sudden, unexpected pressure of his fingers on her arm shocked her into immobility. He was close enough for her to see the fine lines fanning out from his eyes—eyes that had gone cold and dark with anger. When he was like this he could be very forbidding indeed, she thought, noticing the way his mouth had hardened.

‘No, Claire,’ he said in a softer tone. ‘I told you that from now on, financially, Lucy would be my responsibility, and I meant it. That’s part of my contribution to our marriage; please don’t deprive me of making it. I don’t want to feel beholden to you any more than you do to me, you know. We’re partners in this—equal partners.’

She knew that he was right.

He released her arm and she shivered suddenly, missing the protection of his tall body as he moved away from her, and a cold wind bit through her thin jacket.

‘Come on, let’s get inside; it’s cold out here. Come on, you two,’ he called to the girls. ‘You can admire your new friends later.’

It was an odd sensation to have someone concerned for her comfort after being independent and alone for so long, even if he was only being courteous.

Inside, the hotel retained much of its countryhouse
flavour. A smiling receptionist handed Jay a key, and called for a porter to show them the way to their suite. She was a pretty girl with blonde hair and nice teeth, and the way she smiled at Jay reminded Claire of just how sexually attractive he was. That knowledge seemed to heighten her own sense of inadequacy reminding her sharply of all that she wasn’t and never could be.

But it was because of the things that she
was
that Jay was marrying her, she reminded herself firmly, and not the things she was not.

Their suite was magnificent: a sitting-room and three bedrooms, each with its own private bathroom, coordinated throughout in toning shades of French blue and terracotta. Here were several ideas she could copy for their own guest suites, and for the house itself, Claire reflected, making a closer examination of some decorative faux marbling on the door frames.

‘What do you think of it?’ Jay asked her, strolling over to join her as she studied the attractive décor of the sitting-room.

‘It’s lovely!’

‘Yes. It certainly should be; they’ve spent a fortune on renovating the place.’ He moved past her to look more closely at the delicate plasterwork on one of the walls, and instantly Claire realised.

‘It’s yours, isn’t it? The plasterwork …’

He was grinning hugely, looking almost carefree.

‘Yes, and the columns that have been marbled. I like the way they’ve done this, don’t you?’ he asked her, indicating a panel on the wall where the decorative plasterwork inside it had been delicately tinged
in a soft terracotta fading to palest peach. ‘I wonder how they do it.’

‘By putting on the colour and then wiping it off.’ Claire told him promptly. ‘That way, only the most raised parts of the design get the paint.’

She saw his eyebrows lift and explained. ‘It’s something I’m very interested in, and last winter I got several books from the library on the subject. We could try something similar in the drawing-room, if you like, it’s certainly large enough to take it.’

‘Mummy, which bedroom is going to be ours?’

Lucy’s impatient question distracted them both, and Claire suggested to her daughter that she and Heather should share the room with the two single beds in it.

While she was talking to them, the porter came up with their luggage. Jay tipped him and then glanced at his watch.

‘It’s gone twelve o’clock. How about an early lunch and then shopping this afternoon?’ To Claire he added, ‘We won’t have time now, but later I’ll show you the sports centre they have here. It’s very luxurious, and we supplied the plaster columns that surround the swimming pool. We were called in after they had a bad fire eighteen months ago, and we had to replace and match a lot of the original plasterwork. This hotel is part of a small but very prestigious group which specialises in these countryhouse settings. We’re in the process of negotiating a contract with them for work in other hotels owned by the group.’

He broke off suddenly and frowned, his voice brusque. ‘I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear all about that. It’s boring …’

‘It isn’t boring at all,’ Claire contradicted him quickly. ‘I think it’s fascinating.’

Jay gave her an odd look, and for the first time she saw in him Heather’s vulnerability. She reached out to touch his arm in the same comforting way she would have done one of the girls, and as she touched him, he stopped dead and stared down at her. Immediately Claire withdrew from him, her face scarlet.

‘I’m sorry, I …’

‘Don’t be. There’s no need.’

The way he was looking at her made her feel quite odd, breathless and slightly lightheaded, and then the lift arrived and he looked away, and everything returned to normal.

They lunched in what had once been the Victorian conservatory, now beautifully restored and replanted.

The menu, although not vegetarian, featured recipes chosen with healthy eating in mind. Claire and Jay both chose a vegetable mosaic in broccoli mousse to start with, while the two girls opted for a fresh fruit platter.