rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_3ef3281b-df1e-54d5-8020-e04a4ae44cd8">Chapter Five
TEA ON THE lawn had such a wonderfully cosy sound, thought Marin as she dressed for dinner that evening. It spoke of sunlight, cucumber sandwiches and daisies twinkling in the grass.
Whereas the reality hadn’t been nearly as inviting.
As she’d descended the terrace steps at Jake’s side, and looked across the immaculately shorn grass to the cluster of parasol-shaded wicker chairs where Diana presided over a table set with an opulent silver tea-service, she’d known an ignominious desire to turn and run.
‘All right?’ Jake had asked softly, his fingers tightening momentarily round hers, and she’d nodded jerkily.
There were three other couples: Sylvia Bannister, a smart brunette, with her husband, Robert, a tall, red-faced man with an emphatic way of speaking; Chaz and Fiona Stratton, who ran their own antiques business; and the Dawsons, who were clearly older than the others, and probably friends of Graham rather than his wife.
After Diana’s fairly perfunctory introductions, Marin took the first empty chair she saw and sank into it.
Jake dropped to the grass beside her chair, leaning back and resting his arm casually across her knees, a gesture of possession that she realised would not be lost on anyone present, as he undoubtedly intended.
It was like a little war, she thought, with herself caught in the middle. Maybe it was time she definitely established just whose side she was on.
It was apparent, for instance, that he’d washed his hair while he was showering and it shone, thick and glossy in the sunlight, only inches from her hand, offering her an irresistible opportunity for an intimate gesture of her own.
He’s paying me, she told herself. Maybe I should start earning my money.
She let her hand drift down almost casually, stroking her fingers through the dark, silky strands, breathing as she bent towards him the beguiling scent of warm, clean skin, soap and the faint citrus aroma of some expensive shampoo. Everything, she thought, that she would forever associate with him. And as she did so she could have sworn she felt him tense.
Her hand slipped down to touch the damp tendrils at the nape of his neck. She said very softly, ‘You didn’t dry your hair properly.’
‘I was in a hurry.’ He turned his head, his eyes smiling lazily, intimately up into hers. ‘Next time, I’ll get you to do it for me.’
She wished she didn’t blush so easily, but after all she’d started this, so she could hardly back down now. She said sedately, ‘It will be my pleasure.’
His smile widened to a grin. ‘Now that I can guarantee,’ he murmured.
‘Consuela.’ Diana Halsay spoke imperiously to the hovering olive-skinned maid. ‘Please attend to my guests.’
Within seconds, a small table was placed beside Marin’s chair and she and Jake were being offered plates providing a choice of tiny sandwiches of smoked salmon, egg and cress and some delicious pâté, plus Earl Grey tea served with lemon.
In spite of her inward churnings, Marin had managed to eat her share and chat to Clare Dawson, who was plump, grey-haired and disposed to be friendly.
As the party on the lawn eventually broke up, Diana announced, ‘Tonight’s strictly caz, darlings. I’ve invited some locals tomorrow, so we’ll save the formality for then.’
But Jake had made it clear as they went up to their rooms that he didn’t believe her. ‘Diana doesn’t do casual,’ he said flatly. ‘Or not as any ordinary person understands it. She’s probably trying to wrong-foot you, so I suggest you wear something from the evening gear Lynne made you buy.’
She bit her lip. ‘As you wish,’ she agreed colourlessly.
It was on that very subject that she and Lynne had come close to falling out, she recalled.
She’d looked at herself with horror in the changing-room mirror as she tried on the first dress. ‘No way. My God, the skirt’s too short and the top hardly exists.’
‘What would you prefer?’ Lynne had queried acidly. ‘A nun’s habit? For heaven’s sake, honey, I thought you’d accepted that you’re dressing as Rad’s girlfriend rather than yourself. So please believe that shade of green is perfect for your colouring, and the bustier style makes the most of everything else you’ve got.’ She’d paused. ‘ So stop complaining and try this next.’
This had turned out to be the dress she’d be wearing tonight, hardly more than a silky slip in turquoise, with a deep cross-over bodice and narrow straps.
Her protest to Lynne that she wouldn’t be able to wear a bra under this had fallen on deaf ears.
‘All the better,’ her stepsister had commented breezily on the way to the cash desk.
You’re dressing for a part, Marin reminded herself now as she twisted her hair into a loose knot on top of her head and secured it with a silver clip studded with yet more turquoise. Her earrings were silver too, in a simple spiral design, and she’d kept her make-up light.
But she felt hideously self-conscious when she opened her bedroom door to Jake’s brief knock and saw his eyes widen.
She said quickly, ‘Is it too much? Only you did say…’
‘You look amazing,’ he told her quietly. ‘The other women will be eating their hearts out.’
She could see as soon as they entered the drawing room that Jake’s instinct had been quite right. The men, including himself, were in dark lounge suits, but all the women were wearing cocktail dresses, Diana’s being a midnight blue spangled affair that plunged to a dangerous depth at front and back. And a fleeting look of chagrin crossed her face when she saw Marin and what she was wearing.
Robert Bannister came over, cocktail shaker in hand. His eyes lingered on the soft curves revealed by Marin’s bodice. ‘Well, Jake, you’ve always been a lucky bastard, I’ll grant you that.’ He held up the shaker. ‘Can I tempt you both to a Halsay Hand Grenade?’
Jake smiled calmly. ‘A kind thought, but absolutely not. Marin would like white wine and soda, and I’ll have a gin and tonic.’
When they were left alone, he added softly, ‘If you hate spritzers, you can feed yours to one of Diana’s plants. God knows there are enough of them around this room.’
Graham Halsay bore down on them. ‘Someone getting drinks for you both? Excellent.’ He smiled expansively. ‘Jake, you already know everyone, so let me take your charming companion under my wing and perform some proper introductions.’
And quite suddenly, it all became easier, and she was almost able to relax.
‘That’s a Fenella Finch dress, isn’t it?’ said Clare Dawson. She sighed. ‘She’s my daughter’s favourite designer, but no use to me, I’m afraid.’
Her husband Jeffrey, a large, grey-haired man who reminded Marin of her stepfather, smiled at her affectionately. ‘Well, I think you always look lovely, darling.’
That’s
