I’ve always regarded it. And how it always will be.’
He ushered them into a large entrance-hall, its floor tiled in black and white. ‘Diana’s conferring with the cook, I believe, but Mrs Martin will show you to your rooms.’
At the sound of the plural, Marin almost sagged with relief. Avoiding Jake’s ironic glance, she followed the housekeeper’s plump figure up the wide sweep of staircase and right along a galleried landing. At the far end, an archway gave access to another much briefer flight of stairs, leading to a short passage.
Mrs Martin paused at the first door they reached and threw it open.
‘This is your room, Miss Wade, and I hope you’ll find it comfortable. Mr Radley-Smith will be next door,’ she added, and Marin wondered if she’d imagined the slight emphasis in the words. ‘Shall I send someone to unpack for you both?’
‘I think we can manage, can’t we, darling?’ Jake said smoothly, and was accorded a faintly repressive smile before the older woman departed.
‘Welcome to Queens Barton,’ he said when they were alone. He walked over to the communicating door and flung it wide. ‘As promised, I’m in here. The bathroom is across the passage, and I fear we have to share it. But the towels are twice the size of those at the flat, if that’s any consolation,’ he added silkily. ‘Also, the door has a bolt.’
To her annoyance, she felt her face warm. ‘Thank you.’ Her voice was curt. ‘I think I’ll unpack now.’
‘In other words, will I kindly retire to my side of the fence line and stay there,’ Jake supplied with faint amusement. ‘You don’t feel we should leave the door open and practise our conversational skills?’
‘I’d prefer a little time and space to myself,’ Marin countered. ‘To get my head together.’
He shrugged. ‘Then I’ll see you later.’
Left alone, Marin walked across to the window and knelt on its chintz-cushioned seat, lifting her face to the warmth of the sun, wanting it to remove the chill of unease within her that would not go away in spite of his assurances.
Their rooms were at the back of the house, she discovered, overlooking a sweep of manicured lawn and offering a glimpse of a swimming pool, currently unoccupied.
Under different circumstances, it really could be the setting for a perfect weekend, she thought, smothering a sigh.
She glanced across at the communicating door, now securely shut. It was an old door, stoutly constructed, and the walls were correspondingly thick, so there was no sound from the other room, no movement, or cough to remind her of Jake’s presence. Yet she was as conscious of him as if the barrier between them had been made from thin glass.
Aware of the beguiling touch of his lips so fleetingly against hers only a few moments ago.
Oh, calm down, she adjured herself impatiently. Think of something else. Like the new job. But instead she found herself musing about Ginny, in love, and maybe preparing to sacrifice everything dear and familiar for the sake of her man.
Her thoughts travelled seamlessly on to Lynne, her clear eyes dreaming as she planned her home and her marriage, safe and secure in the certainty of Mike’s devotion.
Whereas I, she told herself, swallowing, have never been even marginally in love, although now I seem to be falling in lust. And I don’t know how to deal with it.
She sighed, leaning her forehead against the warm windowpane.
I should have been like Lynne, she thought, who saw the danger and made a conscious decision to stay immune.
Only I didn’t—or perhaps I couldn’t, which is even worse.
So the very last thing I should be doing is spending this weekend pretending that he’s my lover and that all I want is to be alone with him, doing all the things that lovers do.
About which I know so much, of course, she added with bitter self-mockery.
‘Self-indulgence,’ Jake had said when he’d kissed her just now. But she couldn’t afford that kind of luxury. Not when she knew how easily and fatally that could turn into self-betrayal.
She sighed again and wriggled off the seat. You’re tired, she told herself. You haven’t slept properly one night for the whole of the past week, and maybe you should rest now, because you’re going to need all your wits about for the next forty-eight hours.
She kicked off her shoes and folded the chintz bedcover back to the foot of the bed before stretching out on the blue quilt beneath it and closing her eyes, letting her mind drift.
She was right on the edge of sleep when suddenly the communicating door was thrown open and she propped herself on an elbow, dazed and startled, as Jake strode in barefoot and minus his shirt.
Before Marin could move or utter a protest, he was on the bed with her, his body pinning her to the mattress, his hand sliding under her top to bare her midriff as his mouth came down hard on hers.
Marin found herself lifting her hands to his shoulders, feeling the strength of bone and muscle under her fingertips as her whole body clenched in response.
But at the same moment, in some corner of her reeling mind, she heard a brisk tap on her door followed immediately by the faint squeak of a hinge as it opened, and realised they were no longer alone.
‘Well, well,’ said Diana Halsay.
She stood, smiling, while Jake reluctantly rolled away from Marin, dropping a kiss on her exposed skin before sitting up, pushing his dishevelled hair back from his face.
‘I came to welcome my newest guest and make sure she had everything she wanted,’ she went on. ‘But I see you’ve forestalled me, Jake, darling.
‘I never realised before that you were into a little afternoon delight, but one lives and learns.
‘So, all I can say is please accept my abject apologies for this unwarranted intrusion. I shall have to be more careful in future.’
She turned back to the door, adding over her shoulder, ‘If you can tear yourselves apart for long enough, tea is being served on the lawn.’
The bedroom door closed softly behind her, leaving them alone.
Marin drew a deep, shaky breath. ‘You knew she was due to arrive?’
‘I was about to go into the bathroom when I heard her speaking to someone at the end of the passage,’ Jake said, his mouth twisting. ‘I guessed she’d be on her way. It seemed a wise move to let her find us very much together.’
Did it? thought Marin, trying to find somewhere to look that did not involve bare, tanned skin. Trying to forget the swift brush of his lips on her body, as well as her own grave error in touching him, holding him. As if—as if…
‘So,’ he went on after a pause, ‘Are you up for tea on the lawn?’ He reached down and smoothed a strand of hair back from her flushed face, his fingers lingering. ‘Or do you have any alternative suggestion, perhaps?’
‘No,’ she said, too quickly,
