him. Even when I saw the evidence with my own eyes...
‘That’s what I thought,’ he said. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, as he ran a hand over his chin. ‘When you saw me earlier, you thought I was down-and-out, looking for handouts, didn’t you, my sweet? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m doing fine, which is why I’m so glad to be able to buy you dinner tonight. As a small thank-you for showing me the way—giving me my start in life.’
He shrugged. ‘As they say, I’d never have managed it without you.’
‘Think nothing of it.’ The night air was warm, but Macy felt deathly cold.
‘And now George is on his way to ask if you want dessert,’ Ross went on. ‘I recommend the Key lime pie.’
Macy shook her head. ‘Nothing more for me,’ she said. ‘I—I seem to have lost my appetite.’
‘Oh, don’t say that.’ There was mock concern in his voice. ‘You have to be able to keep up with Daddy, Cameron and the rest of the carnivores.’
‘How dare you say that?’ Macy, trembling, pushed her chair back. ‘You have no right. You’re not fit to—to...’
‘Lick their boots?’ Ross supplied silkily. ‘Quite right. There are whole gangs of far better qualified people hanging round Gilmour-Denys to do just that. But I never thought you’d be one of them, Macy. What a disappointment.’
‘Damn you.’ She got to her feet, her breasts rising and falling swiftly under the force of her tangled emotions. ‘Damn you to hell, Ross Bannister.’
‘Too late, darling. You already did that—four years ago.’ He rose too, and came round the table to where she stood. He took her by the shoulders, pulling her towards him. For one endless moment, she felt his mouth on hers, without gentleness, without mercy. An act of stark possession.
And somewhere, buried in the depths of her being, she felt a sharp, unbidden flicker of totally shameful response.
Then, just as suddenly, she was free, staring dazedly up into his cool, aquamarine eyes.
He said expressionlessly, ‘Goodnight, Macy. I’ll be seeing you.’
Shaking, totally oblivious to the interested stares from the adjoining tables, Macy watched him cross the restaurant, pause briefly to scribble his signature on the bill, then disappear out into the night.
CHAPTER THREE
MACY got back to the bungalow somehow. She slammed the door behind her, and stood, panting, her hands pressed against the woodwork as if she was somehow drawing strength from its solidity.
Her mouth felt ravaged. She could make no sense of anything that had happened that evening, but Ross’s kiss had burned itself into her consciousness forever.
She felt as if she was crumbling inside, the sane, rational core she’d come to depend on disintegrating. Meltdown.
Don’t be a fool, she thought, staring into the darkness. Ross sold you out in the worst possible way. Betrayed you totally. When he went, you had to drag yourself back from the abyss, and learn to live again. You were the one in hell, not him. Never forget that.
He’d actually thanked her for giving him his start in life, she recalled with stark incredulity. The sheer cruelty of it flayed her like a whip.
But that was all she’d ever been to Ross—a meal ticket—a step on the ladder.
Yet during those first dizzy months he’d made her believe she was everything in the world that he wanted. That she was necessary—even essential to him, like the air he breathed. And she’d accepted that precious valuation—gloried in it. Letting herself forget that no one was indispensable.
‘A freelance photographer?’ She could still hear her father’s voice, lifted in outraged astonishment. ‘Does that mean he’s not in any kind of regular employment?’
‘Well, in a way,’ Macy had returned defensively. ‘He earns fees from newspapers and magazines when he sells them picture spreads.’
‘And does that provide him with a living?’
‘Yes, because he’s good,’ Macy had said flatly. ‘He’s not rich by your standards, perhaps, but he will be one day. He wants to travel.’ Her eyes shone. ‘He wants to bring the forgotten places of the world to life—remind us all what we have to treasure, before we throw it all away...’
‘My dear child.’ Sir Edwin had looked pained. ‘Where did you meet this—er—freelance?’
‘At an exhibition.’ Her smile had almost hugged itself. ‘I stood back to get a better look at some pictures and trod on his foot. I thought I’d done permanent damage.’
She giggled, remembering her conscience stricken apologies.
‘Have I hurt you?’
‘Mortally.’ His face was solemn. ‘But if you had supper with me tonight, it might ease my final hours...’
‘Indeed—’ Her father’s unwontedly grave voice had brought her back to reality. ‘I see that I should have insisted on your accompanying me to the States. Then this unfortunate accident might have been prevented.’
Macy had laughed out loud. ‘But I didn’t want to avoid it,’ she’d objected. ‘I’m in love with Ross. We’re going to be married.’
After a moment, he said, ‘Don’t be silly, my pet. You only met him—what?—a fortnight ago. You hardly know him.’
Macy bit her lip. ‘Daddy, I know him better than I’ve ever known anyone in my life.’ Even you, she thought, but did not say it.
She’d never heard her father’s voice so harsh before. ‘Are you saying you’ve been intimate with this man?’
She knew what he meant, of course, but the use of the word in that context puzzled her. Yes, she’d been intimate with Ross, but in so many ways that had nothing to do with the wild, sweet, crazy passion they’d discovered together on the narrow, hard bed in his flat.
Because, to her, intimacy was also cooking meals together in the impossibly cramped kitchenette, sharing a shower, and the small piece of soap that they kept dropping, seeing Ross shave for the first time, or even watching him read, her own book forgotten, as she scanned, with mounting excitement the strongly moulded contours of his face, until he looked up, alerted in turn by her prolonged scrutiny...
‘Macy.’ Sir Edwin took hold of her by the shoulders, shook her. ‘Answer me.’
She pulled free and stepped back, startled by the sudden grey look in his face.
‘Yes, he’s my lover,’ she said quietly. ‘And he’s going to be my husband.’
‘My God,’ her father whispered. ‘Have you no shame? Is this all your upbringing—your education has taught you? To jump into bed at the first opportunity with some nobody—some ne’er do well?’
‘You’ve
