you wanted to know how long I’d lived here, you should have asked me,’ he declared tersely. ‘Mrs Fenwick isn’t here to satisfy your morbid interest in my affairs.’
Aware of Luke’s discomfort, Maggie didn’t respond as she might have done. ‘It’s not a morbid interest,’ she denied, making an effort to speak politely. ‘I just didn’t remember Lindsey mentioning the fact that you’d moved.’
‘As you’ve stopped Lindsey from coming to Haversham for the past two years, that’s understandable,’ retorted Neil, seating himself on the sofa opposite. He picked up the teapot. ‘As you never liked being mother, shall I pour the tea?’
Maggie’s nails dug into her palms. ‘You have no right to say that,’ she declared, deciding that if he wasn’t prepared to respect Luke’s feelings why should she?
‘To say what?’ Neil countered, and she took a quivering breath.
‘That I never like being a mother!’ she exclaimed, casting a helpless look in Luke’s direction. ‘And I’ve never stopped Lindsey from coming here. If she’s stayed away, it’s no fault of mine.’
Neil’s eyes bored into hers. ‘Are you saying it’s mine?’
Maggie held up her head. ‘I don’t make accusations,’ she replied, wishing she had never given him the chance to make her feel small. She glanced at Luke once again. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘Neil always has to win every argument.’
Luke shifted a little uncomfortably. ‘I wouldn’t know,’ he said, clearly unwilling to take sides. ‘Um—why don’t you have one of Mrs Fenwick’s scones? She’s a far better cook than Mrs Benson.’
Maggie felt as if she couldn’t eat a thing. Her throat had closed up, and there was a sickly feeling in her stomach. ‘Maybe later,’ she said as Neil set a cup of tea on the table in front of her. ‘I’m not very hungry right now.’
‘Perhaps you’d like to rest for a while before supper,’ suggested Luke, when Neil made no further comment. ‘You’ll find we have a wonderful view from the upstairs windows, although of course you won’t be able to see anything tonight.’
‘I—’
‘That’s a good idea,’ declared Neil infuriatingly, leaning back against the soft velvet upholstery and taking a bite out of the warm scone he held in his hand. He licked a curl of butter from his lip with what Maggie knew was deliberate provocation. ‘We’re in no hurry to talk, are we, Maggie? I’m sure you’d appreciate some time to freshen up.’
Which was how she came to be pacing the bedroom she had been allotted now, facing the prospect of several more unproductive hours before Neil might deign to grant her his undivided attention. What was she supposed to do? He couldn’t really expect her to rest when she had so much on her mind. But, of course, he’d say that he wasn’t aware of that. After all, she hadn’t confided in him.
She paused by the curtained windows, peering out, but all she could see was darkness. And raindrops, sliding continuously down the window-panes, dripping in eerie counterpoint from the trees.
She turned to look at the room behind her. It was a huge apartment, reaching up some twelve feet to the embossed ceiling, with a delicately sculpted cornice above the silklined walls. The bed dominated the room; large and four-posted, it nevertheless possessed a very comfortable mattress, as Maggie had already noted. The headboard was carved, and the bedspread was made of peach-coloured brocade, buttoned, to match the heavy curtains at the windows.
Beside the bed were two small cabinets, on which resided a pair of peach-shaded lamps. There were flowers there, too, a fragrant display of roses and chrysanthemums, whose colours blended perfectly with the rest.
Two comfortable armchairs flanked a studded chest, which Maggie guessed served the dual purpose of storage compartment and table, while several other tables and an exquisite French bureau gave the room an appealing sense of intimacy.
She’d already discovered that there was an adjoining dressing room, where guests could hang their clothes in huge closets that could surely never be filled. And beyond the dressing room she had her own spacious bathroom, again furnished with every conceivable luxury.
Maggie sighed. She hadn’t come here to admire Neil’s house, she thought frustratedly. She hadn’t even known he’d moved house, for heaven’s sake, and although it was all very beautiful it could mean nothing to her. But, the way he was behaving, it might be tomorrow before she got to speak to him alone, and she couldn’t afford to stay away too long.
She wondered what Lindsey was doing at this moment. She knew better than to hope that her sister had had any more success with her than she had. If Lindsey wanted to see Mike Reynolds, she’d see him whether her mother and her aunt wanted her to or not. She was completely uncontrollable, and Maggie was at her wits’ end worrying about her.
She took a deep breath and straightened away from the window. Perhaps if she took a shower she’d feel better, she thought. At least it would fill in some time, and although she hadn’t brought a change of outfit she had brought a change of underwear. Or perhaps a bath, she considered as she entered the bathroom. It was years since she’d had a jacuzzi. Not since she and Neil had shared one in Singapore...
But she didn’t want to think of that now, didn’t want to think of Neil in any other way than the way he had behaved earlier that afternoon. He’d expected her not to say anything, not to do anything to embarrass Luke. Yet he’d had no qualms about embarrassing her.
Pulling off her knitted waistcoat, her hands went to the buttoned fastening of her skirt. It fell to the floor, pooling about her ankles, and she stepped out of it to pull off her boots.
When she straightened, her eyes were irresistibly drawn to her reflection in the mirrored walls around her. God, she thought, this room did nothing for her ego. In her black skinny-rib sweater and pantihose, she was sure she looked every inch her age.
The sweater came off next, revealing the lacy contours of her bra. Her breasts were fuller these days, almost spilling out of the low-cut fabric, the V between them accentuated as she leant forward to turn on the taps.
Yet, for all she deplored the image the mirrors threw back at her, her eyes were drawn to them again and again. There was something almost sensual—almost sinful—in watching herself undress, and she was glad when the bath was full, and she could subside beneath the water.
And it was relaxing, amazingly so. Lying there, gazing up at the recessed lights above her head, she could feel much of the tension seeping out of her. She was here, wasn’t she? she thought placidly. She had achieved her first objective. And she’d get to speak to Neil eventually, if she succeeded in avoiding the arguments he seemed to enjoy provoking.
Her eyes closed. Her head was propped on the rest at the end of the bath, made specially for just that purpose, and it was so delightful to submit to her own body’s needs for a change. For weeks—months—all she’d thought of was Lindsey. Lindsey’s needs, Lindsey’s demands, Lindsey’s future. It was heaven not to think of her daughter for a while, not to worry about what she was going to do...
‘Don’t you know it’s dangerous to sleep in the bath?’
For a moment, Maggie didn’t know where she was, and Neil’s mocking voice didn’t mean anything to her. She must have fallen asleep, she thought, because the water was beginning to feel cold, and she shivered as she
