Lovers Not Friends
Autor:in
Helen Brooks
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CHAPTER ONE
‘YOU know I’ll never let you go, don’t you? I’d rather kill you than let anyone else have you.’
‘Blade—’
‘Don’t Blade me! You’re mine, Amy, you’ll always be mine—one way or another.’
‘You’re crazy—’
‘About you? Maybe—’ the glittering black eyes were merciless ‘—but you know me well enough by now to know that I’m not in the habit of making idle threats. You’ll pay for what you’ve done. Believe me, I can make you wish you’d never been born. And when the payment is over—’ the hard handsome face could have been carved in stone ‘—you’ll still be my wife, my wife, Amy.’
‘No!’ The tortured scream that was wrenched from her throat brought her awake in one violent movement as she jerked upright in the small narrow bed. It was a dream, just a dream … She brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms round her legs as she let her pounding heart slow into a more normal rhythm. He wasn’t here, he hadn’t found her … yet. The dream was still too vivid to let her keep back the fears she held at bay in the clear light of day. He would find her. She shook her head with a little moan as the silky sweep of soft golden hair covered her damp face. She had been mad to run away like that; she should have thought it out properly, made plans. No one crossed Blade Forbes and got away with it, no one, let alone his young wife of six months. His power and influence stretched long tentacles everywhere; what could she do?
Nothing. She climbed out of the bed wearily, padding across the small square room and flicking the switch on the coffee-maker with a long sigh as she glanced out of the high, narrow window, her gaze moving past the old stone wall holding the overgrown garden in check, and out over the green fields rising steeply into the distance. The cold grey light of early morning was filling the small room with a dull glow, but outside the harsh sweep of sky was swept clean in readiness for a new day.
Blade. She wrapped her arms tightly round her waist as she let herself think, really think for the first time in weeks. Blade Forbes, American business tycoon extraordinaire, hard, dynamic, with a reputation for ruthlessness that bordered on the extreme, and yet … She shut her eyes tightly as her thoughts sped on. With her he had been gentle, tender, loving, displaying an understanding that she had never dreamed possible in such an arrogant, masculine man. She swayed slightly as the agony that filled every waking moment with a dull ache swamped her afresh, racking her slender body with physical pain. They had been so happy, so in love.
‘Stop it, Amy.’ She spoke out loud into the empty room, her beautiful delicate face white with strain. These endless post-mortems would do no good; it was over, irrevocably over. Loving him as she did, she had had no choice but to leave, and nothing had changed.
As she got ready for work later that morning, the dull, damp start to the day had changed with the mercurial capriciousness of English weather into bright sunshine, a fragrant wave of fresh Yorkshire air filling the small room with the scents of thick moorland turf and wild flowers from the hills beyond, reminding her that summer was just around the corner. This would have been her first summer as a married woman …
The thought was still with her as she arrived at the small restaurant just after one but, within minutes, the hectic bustle in the tiny kitchen had reduced the gnawing pain to the familiar background ache.
She had been lucky to find this job, she thought quietly, glancing round the shining room that was filled to capacity if more than a few people had the misfortune to be in it at the same time. When she had arrived in the Yorkshire Dales three months ago, stunned and shattered at the enormous step she had taken, she hadn’t had any definite thought for the future beyond hiding for a few weeks out of Blade’s reach before maybe trying to make her way abroad.
But then the calm, slow peace of the place had worked its spell on her sore heart, and when her money had run out she had heard about this job from the motherly landlady of the tiny guest-house where she was staying. She didn’t want to use a penny of the vast bank account Blade had set up for her; that part of her life was over with for good, and so it was essential she provide for herself.
The previous assistant cook, waitress and jack-of-all-trades had up and left with a visiting salesman, leaving her husband and children in the process. ‘A flighty piece if ever I did see one,’ Mrs Cox had grimaced disapprovingly, nodding her grey head like a plump, well-fed little pigeon, and the owner of the restaurant had welcomed Amy with open arms even before he had heard about the three-year course she had completed at college in catering economics.
And so she had stayed. As she ladled thick meaty home-made soup into squat earthenware bowls, she reflected on the intricacy of the web of life. It had been her job that had first brought her into Blade’s life and now it was the means of allowing her to survive away from him. She needed the long hours and hard work more than her employer would ever know.
‘All right, Amy?’ She came out of her reverie to find Arthur Kelly watching her mildly, his blunt Yorkshireman’s face enquiring. ‘Feeling under the weather, lass?’
‘No, I’m fine, Arthur. I’m sorry, I was just daydreaming.’ She smiled quickly as she placed the bowls on the tray and prepared to leave the kitchen for the dining area beyond. Arthur was typical of the average Yorkshire native, kind, forthright, but holding to the principle of minding his own business, for which she was supremely grateful. Both her landlady and employer must have wondered at her abrupt arrival into their little community, but they had asked no questions, either directly or indirectly, even when at times the deep mauve shadows under her eyes must have spoken volumes.
She had just placed the two bowls of steaming soup, along with a basket of freshly baked bread rolls, in front of the young couple who had ordered them when the old traditional bell on the front door jangled a new arrival. She felt no presentiment as she turned, no apprehension or sixth sense to warn her that her fragile equilibrium was about to be blown apart.
‘Hello, Amy.’ His voice was quiet, too quiet, and the narrowed eyes were deadly.
‘Blade …’ As her face drained of colour she was conscious, for one piercing moment, of a rush of fierce joy at seeing him again, which was quite ridiculous in the circumstances, and then, as the full horror of the situation swept in on her, she thought for one desperate moment that she was going to faint.
He obviously had the same notion because he moved quickly, forcing her roughly down on to a seat, his voice harsh. ‘Don’t look so surprised. You knew I would find you one day; it was just a matter of time.’
‘Blade …’ She found she was incapable of saying anything but his name; her mind seemed to have frozen into an icy void with no coherent thought that she was conscious of.
‘The very same.’ The glittering black eyes held her dazed blue ones ruthlessly, his arrogant, handsome face as hard as stone, just as in the dream. The dream … She caught at the thought faintly. It had been a warning; she had somehow sensed he was near. She should have been on her guard, should have known… ‘Now get up.’
‘What?’ She stared at him numbly.
‘I said get up.’ The look on his face would have terrified her if she hadn’t been beyond feeling anything, but now she heard the young couple stir behind her and then the man appeared at their side.
‘I say, look here.’ He couldn’t have been more than twenty-one and was clearly scared to death. ‘Is everything all right, miss?’ He was speaking directly to her; his eyes had flicked once to Blade’s dark countenance which had turned his frightened face still whiter. ‘Shall I call someone?’
‘No—’
Her voice was lost as Blade’s low growl cut into the thick, tense air. ‘Don’t interfere in things that don’t concern you, sonny.’ He didn’t look at the youth as he spoke; his eyes hadn’t moved from her face since he had entered the restaurant.
‘Look, I don’t think she wants to speak to you—’
Blade cut off the young man’s voice by the simple expedient of turning the full force of that malignant gaze on to the blanched face, and even in her frozen state Amy felt a dart of admiration for the boy because he didn’t turn tail and run. ‘Go and sit down in your seat.’ His accent was very pronounced, which somehow made the softly snarled words even more chilling. ‘Or I will personally place you there.’
‘Stop this.’ As Army rose jerkily to her feet, she caught the glimpse of terror in the young man’s face and suddenly hot anger replaced the frozen calm. ‘Don’t bully him.’
‘Bully him?’ Blade’s big body stiffened, and she felt a moment of churning fear before she turned quickly to the youth.
‘It’s all right, really. Please go and have your meal.’
‘Are you sure?’ Relief was warring with male pride, but relief won as he scuttled off back to his waiting girlfriend who had been viewing the proceedings with avid interest.
‘What do you want, Blade?’ She had to tilt her head back to look into his face. At over six feet he had always dwarfed her five-foot, four-inch petite-ness, but in the flat canvas shoes she wore for a working day he seemed even larger.
‘You know exactly what I want, so don’t try and play dumb.’ The dark fury that had transfigured his face was new to her; she had never seen him angry before. Coolly cutting when someone had annoyed him, cynically mocking with a sardonic deadly bite on more than one occasion, but he had always been perfectly in control as though it were all a game. But this was no game. The black eyes blazed back at her as she met them square on. And no one knew that better than she. ‘Are you coming out of here with me of your own accord or do I have to carry you out?’
‘I can’t just leave, I work here—’
‘Oh, you can, Amy.’ The intonation his accent gave her name still had the power to make her weak at the knees, she reflected dazedly. ‘And that is exactly what you are going to do.’
‘I’m not coming back, Blade—’
‘Who asked you to?’ There was a hard grimness in his face that had never been there before when he looked at her. ‘You don’t really think I would want you back after what you’ve done, do you? That I still care? That would make me the biggest fool alive.’ Something flickered in the back of his eyes as he spoke, swiftly veiled, and his voice was even harsher as he continued, ‘But I do want to talk to you and I want to know where he is. You understand me? You are both going to learn a lesson you’ll never forget.’
‘Where he is?’ She repeated his words vaguely with the helpless realisation that she had lost her grasp on the situation. ‘Who?’
‘I told you, don’t mess with me, Amy.’ His grip on her arm was vice-like and again she heard the couple behind them stir. ‘I’ve stood all I’m going to take.’
She would have to talk with him. As she stared back into his dark face, it was stamped with the ruthless determination that had brought him from the relative obscurity of second son of a mining engineer in his native America to self-made millionaire at the age of thirty-five when she had first met him a year ago. His toughness was legendary, his inflexibility when he wanted something rock-like. Yes, she would have to talk with him, and the sooner she got it over and done with, the better.
‘I’ll just ask Arthur if I can leave for a while—my boss, he’s out there …’ She waved vaguely towards the kitchen door.
‘You do that.’ His grip lessened and she was free. ‘I’ll give you exactly sixty seconds.’
Fifty-nine seconds later, as she emerged with Blade from the warm interior of the restaurant into the ancient winding village street, she took a deep steadying breath of the pure Yorkshire air before following him to his car.
‘Can’t we just walk?’ she asked nervously, as they reached the low-slung sports car that was crouched broodingly in the grey street. ‘I’d rather—’
‘I’m not interested in what you’d rather,’ Blade said coldly as he opened the passenger door and indicated that she slide in. ‘You’ll do as you’re told.’
He had never used that tone of voice with her before, and suddenly everything in her rebelled against the arrogant authority that had been paramount since she had set eyes on him again.
‘You can’t order me about like this, Blade.’ She tried to keep her voice firm and cool, but she was unable to hide the quiver of pain in its depths. ‘I’m filing for divorce, as you know; you have no right—’
‘Damn my rights!’ His voice was vitriolic with pure rage. ‘I’ve never let “my rights” as you call them interfere with what I want before. Fortunately in this case that is not a problem. I don’t want you, Amy, if that makes you feel a little more comfortable. The only feeling you inspire in me is one of disgust and contempt. Got it?’
She’d brought this on herself and she couldn’t blame him, she really couldn’t, but the torturous pain that was constricting her chest was making it difficult to breathe. She had intended that he forget her, maybe even hate her if that made it easier, but that had been before she saw him again. She couldn’t bear this, she really couldn’t … ‘Then why—’ Her voice cracked and she swallowed before trying again. ‘Why did you find me?’
‘Because, like it or not, you are still my wife for the moment and I’m damned if I’ll allow you to walk out on me without an explanation. There is also the little matter of retribution.’ The black eyes were as hard as granite. ‘So just get in the car, Amy, and keep that beautiful, deceitful mouth closed if you know what is good for you.’ His voice was smooth and controlled and infinitely dangerous.
Once in the car he drove swiftly through the village, past the cobbled market place with its market cross and thirteenth-century church, and up the steep one-in-four hill on the other side that the powerful car took completely in its stride. He didn’t speak again, concentrating on the narrow twisting road contained within old stone walls that were as ancient as time. After long taut minutes she risked a glance under her eyelashes at the harsh, handsome profile, her stomach tightening as she took in the clear tanned skin, straight nose and heavy shock of burnished brown hair. His face had been etched in her mind with painful clarity for the first few days after she had left, but it had been three months now and the image had begun to fade. She loved him, how she loved him, she would never stop loving him—
‘Right, now we’ll have it all.’ He swung the car off the road into a small gateway that looked across a huge backcloth of walled green fields, scattered farmhouses and rolling undulating hills that seemed to stretch into infinity. ‘And I do mean all, Amy, and a word of caution.’ He turned in his seat and took her chin in his hand, drawing her face round so that her eyes met the stony hardness of his. ‘If you lie to me and I find out, I’ll make you regret the day you were born. I want the truth, however unpalatable. Do you understand?’
Yes, she understood all right, she thought miserably as her heart pounded with fear. But the truth was the one thing she could never give him. She couldn’t bear to see the knowledge dawn on that loved face of what the future would hold, the pity, the despair he would feel for her, the desperation to put things right that were for once totally out of his control. And then the waiting for the monstrous thing to happen. No. She had been right to leave and now, somehow, she had to cement the break into place. But how could she begin? How could she look him in the face and tell him she didn’t love him, without him guessing it was a lie?
‘If it helps you start, I know about John Davies.’ The cold voice at her side was now quite expressionless, and he turned to stare out of the windscreen into the world beyond lit with sunshine. ‘The private detective I hired to find you also found out about your “friend”. Unfortunately he wasn’t there when I called,’ he finished grimly.
‘You went to John’s house?’ she asked faintly. ‘But why—’
‘Don’t give me that, Amy!’ He turned with such savagery that her stomach lurched into her mouth. ‘How long have you known him? When did it start?’
‘Start?’ She heard him literally grind his teeth in his rage, and forced her mind into gear. He thought she had left him for John? Sweet, uncomplicated John who had been her friend for years?
‘I remember his name from the wedding invitation list.’ Blade’s voice was as hard as stone. ‘But he didn’t come. Now I understand why.’
‘He didn’t come because he’s been in Spain for the last three years,’ she said tightly. ‘He’s—’
‘Dead when I get hold of him,’ Blade finished grimly.
‘John has nothing to do with this.’ She found she was wringing her hands in her anguish and forced them into tight fists in her lap. ‘He sent me a postcard a few months ago with his new address to say he was back in England, and when I left it was the only place I could think of to go. I didn’t even stay a night with him. He put me in touch with a lady in the village who takes in the occasional guest—’
‘Mrs Cox,’ Blade stated stonily. ‘Yes, I know. I also know that you see him on a pretty regular basis, so do us both a favour and cut the bull, Amy.’
She stared at him helplessly as her mind flew on. Maybe she should let him think she had left him for John? She felt his impatient movement at her side, and turned quickly to speak. The note she had left had stated only that she considered their marriage had been a terrible mistake and that she had decided, unequivocally, that it was over. That she wanted no settlement, nothing from him, and that divorce proceedings would start immediately. He was a fiercely proud, implacable man. If he thought she had left him for a lover, that knock to his male ego would be unspeakable and final. And this had to be final.
‘My relationship with John is nothing to do with you,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t—’
‘The hell it isn’t!’ he ground out through closed teeth as he studied her set face with harsh black eyes. ‘You took me for one hell of a ride, sweetheart, and no one, no one, does that. When I get hold of him …’ His voice stopped but the look on his dark face was lethal.
‘This is ridiculous,’ she said, with as much calm as she could muster through the racing fury of her heart-beat. ‘Hurting John won’t do any good, I’ll never come back—’
‘You’ll never get the chance,’ he interrupted brutally. ‘You’re soiled merchandise and I only have the best.’ She knew he was lashing out through his own hurt, but hearing him speak like this was agonising. After all they’d shared, all the dreams for the future … ‘By the time I’ve finished with him no other woman will want him, that much I promise you.’
‘Blade—’ She caught herself abruptly. What could she say now? The hole was getting deeper and deeper, but she couldn’t let John take the brunt of this when all he had done was to offer comfort and refuge. ‘John is a friend, nothing more.’
‘Sure he is.’ He opened the car door abruptly and stepped out on to the springy coarse grass beyond. ‘I need some fresh air, something stinks in there.’
‘I mean it, Blade.’ She sprang out of the car, her voice desperate now. ‘Please listen to me.’
‘Listen to you?’ He swung round with such ferocity that she shrank back against the comforting bulk of the car, her eyes wide with fear. ‘Listen to you? Honey, you’re garbage plain and simple. You think lover-boy is in for a good hiding? How right you are.’ The black eyes were narrowed onyx slits. ‘And there hasn’t been a day in the last three months when I haven’t wished you were a man so I could exact the same punishment on you personally. But—’ he surveyed her with a bitter smile ‘—there are more ways than one to skin a rat.’
‘Blade—’ Her breath caught in her throat and she almost choked with fear. ‘Can’t you just give me a divorce and leave it at that—?’
‘You’ll get your divorce.’ A pair of rooks suddenly swooped down over their heads from a large oak tree at the side of the road, their harsh, raucous cry fitting the moment perfectly, and as Blade’s eyes followed the birds she flinched at the bleakness of his profile. But she had to do this. She had no other choice. This might hurt now, but if she stayed with him it would destroy him in the end. She had no other choice.
‘Why, Amy?’ As he turned to confront her, it was the Blade she had been dreading through long restless nights of tossing and turning and tormented dreams. In his face was a glimpse of the Blade only she had known, vulnerable, assailable, with a capacity for tenderness that was unlimited. She could cope with the fierce hostile stranger breathing fire and damnation, but not this, never this. ‘What went wrong? I thought everything was so—’ He stopped suddenly, turning in one harsh movement to stare out over the hills again, his hands clenched fists in his pockets. ‘But I didn’t know you, did I? It was all make-believe, all of it.’
Oh, my darling. As she looked at the back of his head, the sunlight turning the burnished brown gold, she knew she was experiencing the worst that could ever happen to her. The future, with its promise of a living nightmare, was nothing compared to the piercing agony that was gripping her soul in a stranglehold, killing every spark of joy, every good thing. She would exist from this day but she wouldn’t really be alive. But she loved him too much to take him with her into the pit. This way he could recover and live his life. And he would recover. He was a survivor. He’d forget her in time and there would be countless women only too ready to help him.
Her eyes were dry. This pain was too deep for tears, and she turned blindly to look at a tiny farmhouse far in the distance from which a plume of smoke was slowly rising into the blue sky. ‘It was just one of those things,’ she said slowly as she forced the words out through stiff lips. ‘Life’s like that …’
‘Amy?’ She hadn’t been aware that he had turned and was watching her, and now, as she met his eyes, she quickly schooled her features into an acceptable mask. ‘There isn’t something more, is there? Something you aren’t telling me?’
She stared at him, her heart pounding and her mouth dry. She should have been on her guard every second, she shouldn’t have relaxed for a moment. He was too intuitive, too perceptive. How many times had she seen him go straight for the jugular in the past and marvelled at his ability to see beyond the obvious, to expose every little weakness? The same attributes that made him so formidable in business were in force now and she must be careful, very careful.
‘Aren’t the facts enough?’ she said tightly. ‘Do you want more skeletons from the closet? Well, I’m sorry, I can’t oblige you, Blade. You’ll have to hate me for what you know; there isn’t more.’
He stared at her for a whole minute, his eyes searching her face with an intentness that made her breath stop, and then he shook his head slowly, his mouth a thin white line in the starkness of his face. ‘There couldn’t really be more, could there?’ he said with biting cynicism. ‘It was just that for a minute—’ He stopped abruptly and indicated the car with a violent wave of his hand. ‘Get in, I’ve had more than enough.’
They didn’t speak on the return journey, and as he drew up outside Arthur’s little restaurant he leant across her and opened the door in one easy movement. ‘Goodbye, Amy.’ The tone was flat, all emotion gone.
‘Goodbye.’ She never did know how she got out of the car, but it took all the will power she possessed to walk away. She opened the door of the restaurant without looking round, hearing the car pull away with a furious roar of the powerful engine as she did so. She just made it through the kitchen door before she collapsed in a heap at Arthur Kelly’s feet, her eyes big and stunned.
‘Amy?’ Arthur pulled her to her feet, guiding her to the one and only small stool by the back door, his lined face tight with concern. ‘What on earth is it, lass? What’s happened?’ He patted ineffectually at her hands as he spoke, obviously quite out of his depth.
‘Arthur, can I go home?’ She couldn’t speak for several seconds but when she did her voice was a tiny whisper. ‘I feel awful.’
‘You look it.’ He peered distractedly through the pane of glass in the kitchen door at the customers beyond. ‘I can’t really take you now; I’ll call a taxi, yes?’
‘No, please don’t.’ The nearest taxi-cab service was in a small market town miles away and she needed to be alone now. ‘I’ll be home in ten minutes, I’d rather walk.’
‘You don’t look fit to walk, lass, let me—’
‘Please, Arthur.’ She faced him, her blue eyes enormous. ‘I’d rather.’
‘OK, lass, have it your own way.’ He wrinkled his brow worriedly. ‘But give me a call once you’re home, eh? Just to keep an old man happy.’
‘I will. And I’ll see you tomorrow as usual.’
Much later that night, as Amy sat in her darkened room filled with evening shadows, after a meal cooked by the reputable Mrs Cox of which she hadn’t been able to eat a bite, she forced herself to face the fact that had emerged from her meeting with Blade earlier. She had been hoping subconsciously against all reason and all logic that when she saw him again—and she had known, knowing Blade as she did, that she would see him again—that somehow he would work a miracle and things would be all right. It was ridiculous, insane, like a fully grown adult insisting in believing in Father Christmas when the magic had been dead for years, but a tiny part of her had clung on to the hope without her being aware of it.
In all she had had nine months with him, three of those as his wife, and it had been heaven on earth. She had been terrified that first day, as a relatively new employee of the large catering firm she worked for, when she had been called upon to liaise with the great man’s secretary about a formal dinner Blade was holding that weekend. She had ventured into the massive office block with the warnings and admonitions of the other staff ringing in her ears.
‘He’s incredibly difficult to please, so make sure you get every little detail down on paper.’
‘He never tolerates mistakes; go through things with his secretary at least twice to make sure you’ve got it right.’
‘Don’t question anything he asks for; his word is law.’ The list had been endless and had reduced her to a nervous wreck before she knocked on the door to his secretary’s office, which was more luxurious than her own little flat.
The room had been empty, and as she had stood in the midst of the ankle-deep carpeting, the hushed atmosphere reaching out to intimidate her still more, the catch to her case containing all the firm’s literature had broken and the whole mess of papers cascaded out on to the floor. She had been on her hands and knees retrieving them with frantic haste when a deep cool male voice from the doorway froze her in her tracks.
‘Miss Myatt? From Business Catering?’ She raised doomed eyes to the laconic unsmiling figure leaning lazily in relaxed scrutiny as her brain had died on her. ‘My secretary is indisposed today, Miss Myatt; I’m afraid you will have to talk to me.’
He was afraid? She had followed him weakly into the sumptuous office beyond the interconnecting door, setting the case down quickly, which caused it to spill open again in a repeat of the fiasco.
‘Miss Myatt, this is not your day …’ He moved round the desk to help, dark eyes filled with wicked amusement at her discomfiture.
Later he told her he’d fallen in love with her at that moment. ‘Like a bolt of lightning,’ he’d said seriously, his eyes following the smooth pure profile of her face topped by its mass of rich golden hair. She had been twenty-one and hopelessly naïve; he had been thirty-five and anything but.
He was successful, wildly handsome, with a string of much-publicised affairs credited to his account, but when he told her he had never been in love before she believed him. If it had been different he would have told her. He was that type of man. They had laughed together, loved together—and now it was over. Because Blade Forbes was an action man. Their honeymoon had been spent scuba diving and hang-gliding with long, warm nights of passionate love. He hardly knew what it was to be still. And she had loved that too along with everything else about him.
But how would such a man, hard, dynamic, with a zest for life that was unquenchable, cope with a wife who would be confined to a wheelchair by the time she was thirty and a hospital bed five years after that? Unable to move, breathe by herself?
The impersonal brutality of the stark medical facts came back to her as though she were reading them for the first time. The doctor’s report she had been shown hadn’t pulled any punches; indeed the clinical outline of the effects of the disease that was lying dormant in her body till it was matured enough to rear its head in a few years’ time had seemed almost savage on that first reading. But then, how many ways were there to impart news like that? She twisted in the darkness, a pale slender figure in the shaft of moonlight from the uncurtained window.
The cold, typewritten report was engraved in her memory word for word; she only had to close her eyes for the small black letters to be there in all their severity. Her heart pounded as she ran over them again in her mind, their message of a living death as hard to take now as when she had first read it.
She had been right to leave Blade, she had. She caught her breath on a sob of pain; she had had no choice. But, oh—she gazed round the dark room almost wildly—that didn’t make it any easier.
