Was this some kind of apology? Although his tone was aloof rather than conciliatory.
‘I was caught off balance,’ he said.
‘So was I,’ Tara admitted. She’d said some fairly waspish things herself. ‘I wasn’t expecting you there.’
‘I suppose I spoiled the party for you.’
It was an apology—or at least probably as near as Sholto was likely to come to one.
‘Th-that’s all right.’ Dismayingly, she heard her voice wobble. Tears slid hotly down her cheeks. ‘It was j-just unlucky, I guess.’
‘Tara?’ His voice sharpened. ‘Are you all right?’
She wasn’t crying because he was marrying someone else, she told herself fiercely. It was too humiliating that he should think so. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘Tara—what is it?’ He sounded cautious.
She could put the phone down. Only he’d be sure then that she was crying over him. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I got robbed, that’s all—’
‘Robbed?’ For a moment there was silence, before he said urgently, ‘Where? At your shop? Are you hurt?’
‘N-no,’ she gulped. ‘Not really—not badly.’
‘Do you have someone there with you?’
‘No.’
‘I’m on my way.’
‘Sholto—no! I’m all right.’
But he’d already hung up and all she heard was the hum of the dial tone.
CHAPTER THREE
THE DOORBELL buzzed imperatively fifteen minutes later. Tara had spent the time stemming the stupid tears, rinsing her face in cold water and rather unsuccessfully trying to cover up the aftermath of her crying jag with make-up.
She didn’t switch on the passage light and avoided raising her eyes to Sholto’s as she opened the door and said quickly, ‘You had no need to come rushing over. How did you know where to find me, anyway?’
‘Your address is in the phone book.’ He stepped inside and closed the door himself, and then his hard fingers lifted her chin, and he reached out his other hand to the light switch by the door.
His brows contracted as he saw the swelling on her cheekbone. He cursed under his breath. ‘Have you seen a doctor?’
‘The police surgeon checked me over. It’s only bruises.’
‘Only! There are others?’
‘A couple. You know I bruise easily. I was lucky—it could have been worse.’ She shivered, thinking how much worse it could have been, and folded her arms across herself, turning away. ‘Now that you’re here, you’d better come in.’ She led the way to the living room.
‘Your back!’ he exclaimed, and as she looked round, startled, he said, ‘The bruise on your back, it’s already gone blue.’
Tara flushed. She’d forgotten about it, although she’d had to invent a story for the doctor. She’d noticed a bit of stiffness after she got up this morning, but there was nothing visible when she peered in the mirror, and she’d thought no more about it as she donned the dress that dipped even lower at the back than in front. Over the afternoon the bruise had evidently coloured up, although it couldn’t have been too bad earlier. Tod hadn’t noticed. ‘That must have happened last night,’ she said.
‘Last night?’ he repeated sharply. ‘What did that great ape do to you?’
Tara gaped at him. ‘If you mean Andy—’
‘I mean the guy you were draping yourself over all night, the one you brought home with you, even though it was obvious he was smashed out of his mind.’
‘He was not! And what makes you think I brought him home?’
‘I saw him get into your car. As a matter of fact, I thought you were trying to argue him out of it—I was half out of my car, intending to come to the rescue, when you leaned over and kissed him, so I figured you didn’t need help after all.’
Kissed him? She’d leaned over to fasten Andy’s safety belt. She supposed that from a distance it might have looked like an embrace. ‘Where were you, anyway?’ She’d thought that he and Averil had been long gone by then.
‘Sitting in my car, some way behind you.’
So what he’d seen could only have been through the windows of other parked cars. And he’d jumped to conclusions.
But surely they’d left the party before she had. Why hadn’t they driven off? Necking, she supposed, not able to wait until they got to—where? Averil’s place? Or did they share? ‘Couldn’t keep your hands off each other?’ she heard herself suggest. ‘How sweet! Just like a couple of teenagers!’
Something flickered in his eyes. His mouth straightened. ‘Actually, we were blocked by another car. The party appeared to be breaking up, so we thought we’d wait a while until someone moved it.’ Not that it was any of her business, his tone implied.
Neither was her taking Andy home any of his. But she said, ‘I drove Andy to his flat—and left him there.’
‘Too far gone to perform, was he?’ Without waiting for her comeback on that, he said, ‘So where did that bruise come from?’
Tara let her lip curl derisively. ‘Don’t you remember?’
His brows drew together. ‘Remember what?’
‘When your fiancée found us kissing last night—’
‘You kissed me!’ he interrupted harshly.
There was no reason, Tara decided, to let him get away with that. She tipped her head to one side and smiled, slowly. ‘When you were finishing what I’d started,’ she said deliberately, ‘and we were interrupted, you shoved me against the door frame—rather hard.’
He’d already been turning to Averil then, and by the time he’d looked back at Tara she’d been standing upright again.
Colour darkened his cheekbones and quickly receded, leaving them oddly sallow. ‘I did that?’ he queried finally.
Tara nodded.
He hauled a rasping breath into his lungs. ‘I had no idea!’ He sounded almost shaken.
‘It wasn’t intentional,’ she conceded. ‘I do realise that.’
‘Does it hurt?’
Tara shook her head. ‘I’m not permanently damaged—by either you or the robber.’
She thought
