know why she was still speaking, couldn’t understand what protective part of her hadn’t kicked in yet.
He came close to the bed and she had to look up. His face was coldly impassive. Shut. ‘Because, Maggie, I desired you. I wanted you. And I knew I could have you. You were offering yourself on a plate, for God’s sake…’ He came down close to her, hands on either side of her body, where she could see the utter disgust and contempt in his eyes. ‘We both know I could still have you now…’ he flicked a derisory glance up and down ‘…but I can’t be bothered. Because, believe me, I never want to see your face again.’
And he walked out of the room without a backward glance. Maggie sat on the bed for a long time, the cold seeping into her bones as she felt something within her shrivel up and die.
By now they were at the entrance to the function room but Maggie wasn’t even aware. She was locked in her own private hell of memories. Caleb looked abstractedly at her hand in his—it was icy cold. Then he looked at her face. She was so pale that he felt a jolt go through him. When he called her name she didn’t respond. Something was very wrong. He lifted her into his arms and strode out of the building. In the car he held her close to his body. He knew that, whatever it was, she wasn’t faking it. No one could fake that.
Back at the hotel, he carried her again, all the way from the car up to the suite. Once inside he poured a glass of brandy and sat her down, making her swallow it. He could see the effect of the alcohol hitting her system; her eyes flared and she coughed. And then she started to shake uncontrollably. He pulled her into his body, waiting until the shaking subsided. Finally he could feel her pull away slightly and he let her go. She looked at him as though seeing him for the first time.
‘What…what happened?’
She could see a light of rare concern in his eyes and wondered faintly what had put it there, while also having the wits to wish desperately that he was really concerned for her.
He brushed her hair back with a gesture that was almost tender, confusing her even more. ‘I think you fainted…without fainting. I’ve seen it before. It’s like a state of shock.’
Maggie dimly remembered following him out of the function room but for the life of her couldn’t remember anything else. She shook her head. ‘I don’t know why…I’m sorry…’
‘Don’t be,’ he said abruptly. ‘Why don’t you get ready for bed? You should sleep.’
She nodded her head and went into the bathroom. She felt exhausted, as if she’d run a marathon.
Caleb went out to the balcony and stood leaning on the same wall that Maggie had earlier. He shook his head. How could she be feeling such grief for that odious man? For that was what it was, must be. Yet, for all that she was, all that her stepfather had been, he shouldn’t have underestimated the fact that she was bound to be in mourning. They had been family, after all. His cynical brain kicked into gear. Perhaps it was also the delayed shock of finding out that Tom’s millions weren’t going to be hers after all. That thought made something cold settle into his chest.
He went to the door of the suite and looked in. Maggie lay curled up on the bed, already asleep.
WHEN she woke the next morning Maggie’s head throbbed. She was alone in the bed. A note on the pillow next to her caught her eye:
I’m at a meeting but will come and meet you for lunch on the terrace at twelve-thirty. Caleb.
She checked the bedside clock. It was ten a.m. Sinking back on to the pillows, fragments of the previous night came back. Like water dripping into a well, she began to recall what had made her have that bizarre, terrifying reaction. She remembered the crowds, the heat of the room and then how her thoughts had begun to circulate sickeningly on the events of all those months before.
She had to concede that it was possible for a kind of delayed shock to set in. She’d been shouldering the burden for so long…even her mother didn’t know what had happened in London, the extent of Maggie’s involvement. The threat that only Maggie had been aware of.
And her mother wasn’t even aware of the plans Maggie had made for them to flee and hide in case Tom came after them. How relieved she’d been when she’d managed to persuade her mother to return home. Because she’d known that Tom would soon find out that Caleb had been aware all along, had prepared for the crude takeover bid. And when he found out, she knew he’d have blamed her…she worried her lower lip…but what had obviously happened then was that Caleb had immediately launched his own retaliation, thereby keeping Tom occupied. In a sick, twisted way, she recognised now that he had inadvertently saved her and her mother from Tom’s wrath.
It had to be seeing Caleb again, all the intense emotions he was provoking…that had led to a mini meltdown of sorts. She managed to smile ruefully at herself as she went on to the terrace to soak up the morning sun; she’d never seen herself as a drama queen.
Then she remembered how gentle Caleb had been, how he’d held her tight against his body. A warmth invaded her limbs; she could still recall the feeling of safety. The yearning that had overwhelmed her with its sweetness. The wish that it could be for real…She was very much afraid of being sucked into the same dangerous dream as before. A dream of Caleb loving her. She blocked the thought ruthlessly and went inside to have a shower. She didn’t love him…she didn’t. She didn’t even like him.
But you thought you did once…Can you just switch that off?
She ignored the prompt; if she repeated the words enough to herself like a mantra, she might just believe it.
At twelve-thirty Maggie was feeling back to normal. A table had just been delivered with a mouth-watering array of food—fresh fish, salad and crusty bread and a bottle of champagne on ice. She heard the door in the suite open and close and stood slightly awkwardly on the terrace when Caleb emerged. Her heart tripped predictably, the way it did every time she saw him, whether it had been seconds or hours in the interim.
‘How are you this morning?’ he asked coolly.
‘Fine. Much better. About last night, I’m so sorry, that’s never happened before.’
He lifted a hand. ‘It’s fine.’
‘Okay…’ Maggie trailed off. He clearly didn’t want to discuss it. Maybe he was angry that they hadn’t slept together. Maybe he thought it was an elaborate attempt on her part to avoid it? She suddenly hated the thought he might suspect that of her. She moved closer and put an impulsive hand on his arm. ‘You don’t think that I…Well, that I did it on purpose to…’ She stopped, her face crimson with awkwardness and a cold horror struck her…Had her body somehow shut down because of that too?
‘No, of course not.’ And he genuinely didn’t. That thought had never even entered his head and it surprised him now.
The residue of her disturbing thoughts still lingered and she answered absently, ‘Good.’
‘Let’s eat.’
‘All right.’
They sat down at the table that had been erected, complete with a pristine tablecloth and gleaming cutlery. With only the faint sounds of a
