Unguarded Moment (20 page)

When he had gone, Alix turned over, burying her face in the pillow. There had been no warmth in his tone, no tenderness, although she supposed she had been a fool to hope for them. He wasn't leaving out of concern for her, but because it was clear that all work on the book had ground to an abrupt halt.

Even while he had been speaking to her, his eyes had been remote, as if his thoughts were elsewhere. And of course Lester Marchant's imminent arrival would have influenced his decision to leave, she thought, feeling a little sob rise in her throat. Lester might no longer be Bianca's legal husband, but that didn't mean he would welcome finding her lover in residence at the villa when he arrived.

She sighed wearily. No matter how bitter her conclusions, it made no difference. She loved Liam, she was starving for him, and if these few crumbs of comfort from his company as far as London were all that there were for her, then she would savour every last one.

Because only too soon even they would be denied to her.

It was nearly dawn when the taxi drew up outside the house. It had been an uneventful flight. Leon had slept most of the way, his attitude one of gloomy resignation. He-had not the slightest confidence in Lester Marchant's ability to resolve the crisis, which he considered was all of his own making anyway. In fact he confided to Alix in an undertone that Bianca would probably have an apoplexy when she saw him.

Alix could not sleep. She sat rigidly in her seat beside Liam, staring at an airline magazine without taking in one word of it. When the stewardess came round with drinks she asked for fruit juice, but Liam said curtly, 'She'll have a brandy,' and ordered himself a straight whisky.

Full circle, she thought wryly. On the outward flight she had ordered brandy for Monty. Such a short time ago, and yet in that brief space her whole life had changed.

Monty had taken a surprisingly emotional leave of her. 'I never agreed with her employing you—I knew it would end in disaster,' she had said huskily. 'But I never thought it would be like this.'

Alix had been touched too by a warm hug from Paola. 'I shall miss our mornings by the pool,' she said. 'But we'll meet again, Alix, you'll see.'

Carlo's farewell was more practical, making sure she had sufficient cash to tide her over, and somewhere to stay once she had collected her belongings from the London house.

'Poor little one,' he said. 'It was never intended that you become a victim of all this, and that is my only regret.'

'Your only regret?' Alix gave him a steady look, but he was unabashed, shrugging and giving her a charming smile.

'You do not approve, of course, but it was necessary. No star shines for ever—the days when this was possible are gone. The lovely virago upstairs must face this or go to the wall as others have done. I still hope that she can be induced to come to terms with reality, and that this may not be the end for her, but yet another beginning. One must be cruel to be kind, is that not what they say?'

In spite of that, Alix could not help thinking that the methods which had been used had involved considerable cruelty without a great deal of kindness.

She was trying hard to blank the scene with Bianca out in her mind. She had often imagined that she would probably depart after some unholy uproar, but the actuality had been worse than anything she could ever have dreamed of. She had not thought it possible that she could feel so hurt and—abandoned. And yet she should have realised that she could expect nothing better from Bianca, so her disappointment and unhappiness were quite out of proportion to her sense of realism.

And she would have to go home and admit to her family that her glamorous job hadn't worked out after all. Her parents would probably be relieved, and try not to show it, and Debbie—well, Debbie would be triumphant.

Alix bit her lip. She had managed to put her family problems to the back of her mind while she was in Italy, but now they had to be faced head-oil once more, and she dreaded the prospect.

She had expected Liam to drop her at the house and take the taxi on to his own flat, and she was therefore surprised when he paid off the driver, and carried his suitcase as well as hers up the steps.

'What's the matter?' His voice was impatient. 'Can't you find your key? I presume you have one.'

'Yes—of course,' Alix stammered, searching through her bag, and producing it.

'Give it to me.' He held his hand out, but she hesitated. 'Or would you rather ring the bell, and have us admitted in due form, under the circumstances?'

'There isn't anyone to admit us,' she told him. 'The Harrises are taking a holiday. They won't be back until next week.'

'Then I'll definitely have the key,' he said grimly. 'Wait here while I check that everything's all right.'

Shivering a little in the chill early morning breeze, Alix stood on the step, watching as the lights came on and went off on all three floors, marking his progress through the house. As he came down the stairs, she walked inter the hall and closed the door beside her.

'Thank you,' she said stiltedly.

The dark brows drew together in a frown. 'You look half dead,' he remarked coolly. 'Go and sit down in there'—he nodded towards the drawing room—'and I'll bring you some coffee. Yes, I do know where the kitchen is, and where everything's kept,' he added sardonically, forestalling her objection.

'Yes, I suppose you do,' she muttered, remembering the numerous evening
tête-à-têtes
he had enjoyed in this house, which she had so desperately tried to ignore. 'But you really don't have to bother.'

'It isn't any bother. I could do with some coffee myself.'

Alix wandered into the drawing room, and stood looking round her. The air smelt stale, and there was a definite chill in the air. It would soon be time for the central heating to be switched on again, but as she no longer officially lived there, Alix could not take so much on herself, so she compromised by switching on a couple of bars of the big electric fire which formed the focal point of the rather grandiose marble fireplace at one end of the room.

She sank down on the huge fur rug which fronted the hearth and stretched out her hands as the bars began to glow, but no amount of surface heat was going to dispel the coldness she felt inside.

Liam came in carrying a tray. 'No fresh milk, of course, so it has to be this powdered stuff,' he said. 'But at least it will be hot.'

The coffee was in two pottery mugs. Alix surmised that they must belong to the Harrises, because she was quite sure Bianca would never have bought anything quite so basic and functional for her own use. She clasped her hands gratefully round the warmth emanating from the earthenware.

Liam had flung himself down on one of the sofas. He had discarded the fine wool tweed jacket he had worn on the flight, and loosened his tie. He looked very much at home, Alix thought stonily.

She said, 'I'd better go up and start packing. I'll take my coffee with me. If you could be sure to slam the front door behind you when you leave…'

'Naturally.' He gave her an unsmiling glance. 'But I wouldn't be in too much hurry to pack. You could do with some sleep first.'

'I think Bianca intended that I should collect my things and be on my way as soon as possible.' She tried to smile and failed.

'Bianca's not here,' he said tersely. 'And I'm telling you that you'll make a far more efficient job of your packing When you're rested. Where do you plan to go when you leave here?'

'Home, I suppose,' she said, smothering a sigh, as she remembered that Debbie had totally appropriated the room they had once shared long ago, and that Margaret had adapted the other bedroom for her sewing. There was a bed in there somewhere, under the boxes of paper patterns, the dressmaker's dummy, and the current half-finished garment, but she would do far better to find herself a hotel room for a few nights. After all, she could well afford it, but she didn't want to give Liam the impression that she was an orphan of the storm. The last thing she wanted was his pity, she thought passionately.

'The idea doesn't seem to set you afire with expectation.' His lips twisted. 'Where is home?'

'A semi-detached in the suburbs,' she said coolly. She glanced around her, smiling slightly. 'I've become spoiled, you see.'

'I wouldn't have described it in quite those terms,' Liam said drily. 'It isn't just the surroundings that you'll miss, though, or am I wrong?'

She bent her head. 'No,' she said quietly.

There was a pause, then he said roughly, 'Bianca doesn't deserve you, Alix.'

'Well, she doesn't have me any more,' she returned with bravado, then gulped suddenly as an involuntary sob rose in her throat. She rose hurriedly, avoiding the searching look which Liam sent her. 'You're right—I am very tired, and I don't suppose Bianca would grudge me a few more hours under her roof.'

'As long as she never knows anything about it, I imagine not,' he said cynically. 'Off you go, secretary bird. How do you ultimately propose to get to your suburban semi-detached?'

'I'll telephone my father and ask him to collect me,' she said hastily. 'Please don't worry about me,' she added rather stiffly.

'Don't be a fool, Alix,' he advised wearily. 'Now go to bed, before I lose my temper and forget all my good resolutions regarding you.'

And she didn't even want to begin to consider the implications in that, Alix thought wildly. Coffee in hand, she hesitated rather uncertainly. 'You won't forget what I said about the door?'

'No, I won't forget,' he said, raising his eyebrows impatiently. 'Your instructions weren't exactly complicated.'

'No.' She lingered still, because it had occurred to her that she might never see him again. Oh, there'd be television interviews, and photos on the jackets of books, but never again like this. Alone with him, when only a few steps would take her to him—into his arms…

It took all the self-control she could dredge up for her to turn away.

'Goodnight, Alix.' His voice followed her. 'Although that's hardly appropriate. Good morning, perhaps?'

'Or goodbye,' her lips framed silently.

Upstairs, she moved like an automaton, turning on the immersion heater, so that later there would be warm water for a shower at least, fetching bedding for her stripped bed from the neat piles in the linen cupboard, then shedding her clothes and slipping in between the sheets, pulling the soft weight of the duvet closely around her for comfort.

In spite of her unhappiness, she was on the edge of sleep when she heard the front door slam, and the echo of that and her silent goodbye accompanied her into her first troubled doze.

Gradually as her tired body and mind relaxed, deeper sleep came, but accompanied by vague troubled dreams. Dreams which made her twist and turn, seeking a cool place on the pillows.

She was back in the Italian garden, walking down the paths which led to the sundial, but as she walked, the small clipped hedges grew rapidly, transforming the garden into a maze where she was hopelessly trapped. And yet she knew if she could reach the sundial in the centre, she would be safe.

She began to run, feeling tears wet on her face, while the hedges towered over her, twigs and leaves catching at her clothes as she brushed past them, She cried out, and in the distance, in the middle of the maze she heard Liam call her name. With a little moan, she ran forward again, her hands reaching out eagerly, then tripped and fell—and felt Liam's hands on her shoulders, lifting her, turning her towards him.