An Unwilling Desire
Author
Carole Mortimer
Reads
15.0K
Chapters
10
CHAPTER ONE
‘… and I hope you continue to read and enjoy my books. You know the rest, Holly,’ James dismissed with an abruptness that showed he was fast losing interest in the mail they were in the process of answering.
She looked up from her shorthand pad, frowning as she saw James was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. Her employer had seemed distracted all morning, hardly able to concentrate on the mail he usually took such time and care over.
‘James?’ she had to prompt softly, not sure if he wanted to finish now or continue; she had never seen him in quite this mood before.
He looked up at her, smiling slowly, as if her short red hair and small heart-shaped face dominated by huge violet eyes afforded him some comfort in whatever was tormenting him. ‘Where was I?’ he asked vaguely.
Her brows rose at this uncharacteristic loss of concentration, the same red as her hair, her lashes long and tipped with gold. ‘You’d just finished thanking Mrs Smythe of Kent for her kind words of praise on your last book,’ she reminded him gently, her concern intense for the man who had been kind to her from the first day she came to work for him three months ago.
‘Oh yes,’ he ran a hand through the dark blond of his hair, his hazel-coloured eyes half closed as if in pain. ‘Could we stop now?’ he sighed. ‘I—I have a headache.’
‘Of course.’ She instantly closed her shorthand pad, moving with a quiet grace to pick up the two separate piles of letters from the table, one she had replies to and one she didn’t. ‘I have enough to be going on with,’ she smiled reassuringly.
‘I didn’t realise I had so many fans.’ He leant back weakly in his chair, his eyes completely closed now, a weary droop to his mouth.
Holly’s heart went out to him and she wished there were something she could do to ease the strain he seemed to be under, some way she could help ease his stress. She liked this man, had taken an instant liking to him when he had interviewed her for the job as his secretary, and could only admire the way he got on with his life despite the disability of the wheelchair he spent the majority of his time in, the result of a serious car accident two years ago.
James was a big man, powerfully built and firmly muscled despite his disability, the pain of the last two years etched into his face and adding to his thirty-six years. He had the sort of fair hair that bleached white and gold in the sun, and it was like that now from the afternoons he spent working in the garden, his eyes taking on the blue-green of the sea that he viewed from his Hampshire home.
Yes, she liked this man, she liked him a lot, and she knew something was troubling him deeply. She hesitated at the door, not wanting to leave him like this. ‘Is it just a headache, James?’ she probed softly.
He sighed, opening his eyes again as he sat forward. ‘No,’ he admitted heavily. ‘You might as well know, Maxine is coming back here this afternoon.’
Holly kept her expression bland with effort. Maxine Benedict, James’s wife for the last five years, was a woman of thirty, having maintained her slender figure from her years spent as a model. In the last three months since Holly had been in residence as James’s secretary the other woman had only spent a matter of weeks at home, this last trip to London being the longest so far, three weeks in duration. And now it seemed she was returning for another few disruptive days, would upset the even tenor of James’s working days, and then leave him moody and withdrawn, unable to work, when she left again.
‘That will be nice,’ she said brightly, hoping James couldn’t hear the lack of any real enthusiasm in her voice.
‘Will it?’ he returned bitterly.
‘Of course it will,’ she insisted briskly.
His mouth twisted. ‘It’s been so restful. I’ve been—comfortable, here with you the last few weeks, Holly. Almost at peace.’
She flushed her pleasure at his feeling the same way she had about his wife’s latest absence, turning away shyly from the warmth in his eyes. She didn’t welcome Maxine’s return either. Beautiful and sophisticated Maxine Benedict made her feel ill at ease, and she suspected how the other woman spent her time during these frequent trips to London. She had a feeling James did too, although he never actually said anything about it.
‘Oh, Holly, sometimes I wish—Never mind,’ he dismissed harshly. ‘Could you get those letters typed and back to me as soon as possible. I doubt I’ll get much work done once Maxine is back,’ he added ruefully.
Holly doubted it to. When Maxine was at home James’s work schedule, and consequently Holly’s own, went out of the window. Maxine was a woman of impulse, often deciding she wanted to do something or go out on the spur of the moment, and insisting that James accompany her.
Holly made her way to her own office at the back of this rambling house, well away from James’s study so that her typewriter wouldn’t disturb him while he wrote. Once in the privacy of her own room she allowed her disappointment about Maxine’s return to show, hating the idea of her routine being disturbed. She liked order in her life, disliked impulsive action of any kind. The next few days, at least, looked like being very disrupted.
James Benedict was a famous author of thrillers, the storyline often having something to do with racing cars, his old profession, the profession that had put him in the wheelchair. He had first begun to write during the long months he had spent in hospital recovering from the accident, and had been lucky—or talented enough—to have his first book accepted while still confined to his bed. A second, third, and fourth book had been equally well received, being fresh and exciting, and always original. The mail that flooded in to him every day proved just how popular with the public his books were.
Holly had been delighted when she secured the position as his secretary, thrilled when he asked her to assist him with his research too. It was all a welcome change and challenge from the run-of-the-mill office jobs she had been doing for the last four years, liking the fact that she actually lived at the house, finding it no hardship to give up the last in a long line of flats she had occupied during the last few years of living on her own. It also meant she was on call if James should need her, and the two of them often spent their evenings working too, something she enjoyed.
But the thought of Maxine Benedict’s return was enough to spoil the day for her. Maxine was everything she despised in a woman, flirtatious, too beautiful for any man to resist, and worse of all, Holly suspected, promiscuous. It was the latter she found so hard to forgive in the other woman, but she could think of no other reason for Maxine to spend so much time in London. Personally she had no idea of the full extent of James’s injuries, although she thought it meant he couldn’t play an active role in his marriage, which made Maxine’s behaviour all the more abhorrent.
Holly deliberately made herself scarce in the house’s vast library after lunch, attending to some of the research on South America that James needed for further chapters. It was a laborious task, but one that she enjoyed; no complaints were made by the public about even the finest detail in James’s books—something she intended to continue.
She could hear the husky sound of Maxine’s voice in the lounge as she passed the room on her way back to her office from the library, her precious notes and references clutched in her hand to show to James later.
She came to an abrupt halt as she entered her office, gasping as she saw the man standing across the room from her, his back turned towards her as he looked out of the window, the over-long golden hair so achingly familiar. But he was standing! ‘James …?’ she cried her disbelief. Surely James couldn’t have been deceiving them all this time—
The man turned slowly at the sound of her gasp, dispelling any doubts she might have had that it was James who stood there. Oh, the man’s colouring was the same, so was the powerful physique, but there the similarity ended. Mocking green eyes steadily met her gaze, a long hawk-like nose jutting out arrogantly, the mouth strong and firm, quirking tauntingly as she continued to stare at him, his jaw square and determined. For all that his face showed lines of experience he still looked younger than James.
There was about the man an air of male challenge, an aura of sensuality that made Holly’s defences instantly spring into action. Her mouth twisted contemptuously at the way his denims clung to him like a second skin, his shirt partly unbuttoned to reveal the darker blond hair on his chest, an obvious move on his part to draw attention to his virility as far as Holly was concerned. A man who believed in his own machismo!
She stepped past him to sit behind her desk, realising as she did so how tall he was when she only reached as far as his shoulders, her own height only just over five feet. She viewed him with cool violet eyes as he lounged against the side of her desk, her lashes darkened with mascara, that and a coral lipstick being her only make-up.
‘Obviously not,’ she dryly answered her own question, completely in control again now, over the shock she had received at first seeing him.
‘Obviously not,’ he echoed mockingly, looking down at her, his gaze openly speculative. ‘Not unless he’s taken it into his head to get up and walk,’ he drawled. ‘And while he has people like you and his manservant fussing around him he isn’t likely to do that, now is he?’ he mocked.
A hot tide of indignation welled up inside her. ‘How dare you say such a thing?’ she gasped, her eyes wide with accusation.
His smile widened, his teeth very white and even against his tanned skin. ‘Quite easily,’ he taunted without regret.
‘So I see,’ she snapped, pushing her notes into a drawer and locking it before glaring up at the man. ‘I don’t know who you are—and to be perfectly truthful, I don’t particularly care,’ she added insultingly. ‘But I find your mockery of a crippled man highly distasteful!’
‘James isn’t crippled,’ his voice had hardened harshly. ‘Unless you count his mind.’
Her eyes widened even more at this attack on a man who wasn’t even here to defend himself. ‘James has a wonderful mind,’ she told him heatedly. ‘As you would know if you’ve ever read any of his books!’
‘I’ve read them,’ the man confirmed scornfully.
‘Then you know he has a clever mind!’
The green eyes narrowed; the man’s speculation was increasing. ‘Do you always defend James so—vehemently?’ he queried softly.
Holly flushed her resentment. ‘If I think he needs it, yes!’
‘And does he often—need it?’ the man taunted throatily, humour glinting in his eyes.
Holly glared her outrage at him for his implication. ‘If you’re a friend of his—’
‘I’m not,’ he stated flatly.
‘Not …?’ She looked at him uncertainly now, her eyes hardening with contempt as another reason for him being here occurred to her. ‘Then you must be a friend of Maxine’s,’ she realised with sickening clarity.
Dark blond brows rose, his arms folded across the broadness of his chest, the red shirt he wore moulded to his powerful frame. ‘Must I?’ he taunted softly, mocking her unashamedly.
‘Aren’t you?’ she challenged.
He seemed to consider for a moment. ‘I suppose I must be,’ he answered finally.
‘I see.’ Holly’s contempt grew along with her anger. Not only did Maxine leave her husband to go to London for weeks at a time, but this time she had actually brought her current lover back with her. Couldn’t she be content with hurting James at a distance!
‘Do you?’ The man watched the emotions flickering across her usually unreadable face. ‘I doubt it,’ he derided, shaking his head, the straightness of his golden hair growing well down over his collar and ears.
‘Oh, but I do,’ she contradicted with sarcasm. ‘Maxine arrived from London a short time ago; you arrived with her.’
‘And that tells you something, does it?’ he queried softly.
‘Yes!’
‘But you’re wrong. I didn’t come here with Maxine, I arrived just after her.’
‘Oh, she’s given you your own car, has she?’ Holly sneered heatedly, surprised at her own vehemence now. Of course it was disgusting that this man should be here, that he should have such little respect for a man like James, but she had made it a rule never to involve herself in other people’s lives and problems, knowing it could only lead to disaster.
The man’s eyes glittered a fierce emerald green. ‘What a nasty mind you have, Holly Macey,’ he said grimly.
She frowned. ‘You know my name!’
‘Of course,’ he nodded abruptly. ‘I was sent to see if you would like to come and join us in the lounge.’
She turned away, shaking slightly from this scene with a man whose identity she didn’t even know. ‘I still have some work to do before I finish for the day,’ she refused stiffly.
‘Don’t you think you should come and defend James?’ he taunted.
She blushed, suddenly looking younger than her twenty-two years. ‘He doesn’t need anyone to defend him,’ she said awkwardly. ‘He’s perfectly capable of standing up for himself.’
‘But he isn’t, is he?’ the man derided softly. ‘Capable of standing, I mean.’
She gasped, shocked at the way this man continued to mock James’s disability. ‘That—that was a cruel and vicious thing to say!’ she choked.
‘Was it?’ he shrugged, standing up. ‘It’s even crueller that he chooses to remain in that wheelchair day after day.’ His expression was harsh.
‘He can’t walk!’
‘You’re right, he can’t.’
‘Then why mock him?’ she breathed raggedly.
‘Because I damn well refuse to pity him! He’s a coward and a—’
‘James is not a coward!’ Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides.
The man gave her a cold stare before walking to the door. ‘The day he gets out of that chair and walks will be the day I no longer think of him as one. The reason he’s there, driving a car at high speed just for the thrill of it, is a damned stupid way to earn a living in the first place,’ he rasped.
‘You consider your way to be better, do you?’ Holly scorned.
His eyes narrowed. ‘My way?’
‘As Maxine’s “friend”.’ Her mouth twisted with distaste.
‘At least I get job satisfaction!’
‘You’re disgusting!’ she paled.
To her chagrin he began to laugh softly. ‘I’d be damned angry at the assumptions you’ve made about Maxine and me if I didn’t find you so amusing. James only writes sexy thrillers, Holly, you don’t have to believe them,’ he taunted. ‘And why do you have such a low opinion of Maxine?’ he sobered. ‘What has she ever done to you?’
‘Nothing,’ she answered stiffly.
Those deeply green eyes narrowed thoughtfully, his lashes ridiculously long for a man. ‘But you don’t like her, do you?’ he probed curiously.
‘I’ve only been here three months, I hardly know her,’ she gave an evasive reply.
‘Maybe you should remember that, Miss Macey,’ he nodded grimly. ‘You don’t know Maxine. And you don’t know me either.’
‘I don’t think I want to,’ she spoke her thoughts aloud, seeing by his smile that he found her candour amusing.
‘That’s a pity,’ he drawled with enjoyment. ‘Because, like Maxine, I’m here to stay.’
‘For how long?’ Holly bit her lip, realising how rude she was being. After all, she was only an employee here, while he was an invited guest, for whatever reason. ‘I meant do you intend to be here long?’ she amended blushingly.
‘I know exactly what you meant,’ he drawled. ‘And at the moment I have no idea. Why, does my being here bother you?’
She avoided his piercing gaze. ‘It’s really none of my business, is it?’
‘None at all,’ he replied smoothly. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting you again at dinner, Holly Macey.’ He left the room, whistling to himself as he went back to the lounge.
Holly realised she was shaking, giving up all pretence of working now she was alone. What a rude, insufferable man! His contempt for James had been nothing less than cruel, almost as if he thought it all James’s own fault that he was confined to a wheelchair. And his affair with Maxine, right here at the house, was a disgrace.
She had never met anyone quite like him before. He didn’t seem to take anything seriously, not even James’s lack of mobility. He was a man who didn’t seem to give a damn about anything. She disliked him as much as she disliked Maxine, and the thought of having to sit down to dinner with the pair of them made her want to eat in her room. But she knew she couldn’t do that to James, he didn’t deserve to have to face them alone then too.
She dressed with more than her usual care that evening, aware that it would no longer be just James and herself enjoying a companionable meal together. Maxine always dressed perfectly, with her figure it was hard not to, and Holly had a feeling Maxine’s friend wouldn’t be casually dressed either.
James’s man Robert would make sure he was suitably well dressed. When she had first realised James had someone to help him out with the more mundane tasks like bathing and dressing she had wondered how he coped with the intrusion into his life, and yet Robert was one of those men who faded into the background when he wasn’t needed, curiously always there when he was. The fact that Maxine resented his presence in the house at all didn’t seem to bother either man, and as the married couple had separate bedrooms the meetings between the wife and manservant were kept to a minimum. Much as James loved Maxine, Holly wondered which would be the one to go, Maxine or Robert, if it ever came to a confrontation.
The dress Holly chose for dinner was the classic black, high-necked, long-sleeved, flowing loosely from the bust to just below her knees, her legs slender above the black sandals. Her make-up was still light, a pale lipstick, and yet her eyes remained her main feature, a darkening mascara showing the length and thickness of her lashes. Her hair was short and boyishly styled, newly washed, gleaming brightly auburn. Her lack of height prevented her having Maxine Benedict’s air of sophistication, but all the same she knew she didn’t look unattractive. Besides, who would notice her with Maxine about! It was enough that she felt confident about her appearance.
The lounge was empty when she walked in at seven-thirty, so she moved to the vast array of drinks on the sideboard to pour herself a small glass of sherry as James had invited her to do in the past if she should get down before him, turning back with the glass in her hand to find Maxine’s friend standing in the doorway, a cynical twist to his lips. As she had thought, he had dressed for the part, in a white dinner jacket and white silk shirt, a black bow-tie and black fitted trousers, his blond hair brushed casually back from his face.
Holly stood her ground with effort as he came into the room, flushing almost guiltily as his gaze remained fixed on the drink in her hand.
‘A secret drinker, hmm?’ he taunted.
‘Not at all—’
His soft laugh interrupted her. ‘Are you always so quick to jump to the bait?’ he mused. ‘If you are, I’m going to enjoy my stay here this time.’
Her eyes widened at the implication behind these words. ‘You’ve been here before?’
His mouth twisted. ‘Many times.’
She should have realised that by the confident way he moved about the house. ‘You haven’t been here for the last three months,’ she said stiffly.
‘Not since you’ve been here, no,’ he acknowleged derisively. ‘Maybe if I’d known what a fiery secretary James had engaged I might have done.’
‘I’m not fiery—’ Holly banked down her anger. ‘At least, not usually,’ she mumbled.
‘Do I take that as a compliment?’ He moved closer to her to pour himself a large whisky.
‘No!’ Holly snapped.
‘I thought not,’ he said dryly. ‘So you don’t usually lose that delightful little temper of yours,’ he murmured thoughtfully. ‘What is it about me, do you think, that triggers off this rarely used temper?’
‘You’re insufferable!’ she glared at him.
‘Besides that,’ he dismissed uninterestedly.
‘Isn’t that enough?’
He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t have thought so. You disliked me on sight.’
‘I’m sure many women find you very attractive,’ Holly derided at his chagrined expression at the realisation. ‘I just find you obnoxious.’
‘Mm, novel, isn’t it?’ He appeared clinically interested by the fact.
She gave him an exasperated look. ‘Don’t you ever take anything seriously?’
‘Life’s too short for that. And I don’t consider you dislike of me to be serious.’
‘You conceited—’
‘Not conceited, Holly,’ he disagreed softly. ‘I’m just intrigued by the fact that almost everything I say and do brings a heated reaction from you. James was singing your praises when I went back to the lounge this afternoon; I couldn’t believe the cool competent young lady he was describing was the same one I’d just met. You may be competent, in fact that determined little chin tells me you are, but you certainly aren’t cool. I was wondering what it was about me that brings about this Jekyll and Hyde change in character.’
‘I told you, I find you insufferable.’
‘And I told you it isn’t enough.’ He studied her through narrowed green eyes. ‘Maybe it’s my similarity to James you dislike. You defend him like a cat defending its kitten. I wonder—’
‘Would you please pour me another sherry?’ she requested stiffly.
He took the glass she held out, his eyes mocking as he refilled it. ‘I thought you weren’t a secret drinker?’
‘I’m not!’
He looked pointedly at the second sherry which she had almost consumed. ‘I hope that isn’t on a completely empty stomach. Which way do you go when you’re drunk, happy or sad?’
Holly paled at the taunt, slamming the glass down on the table, spilling some of its contents on the polished surface. ‘I have never been drunk,’ she told him tautly. ‘Never!’
His eyes widened at her unwarranted vehemence. ‘Holly—’
‘Ah, Zack darling!’ Maxine Benedict floated into the room, her black hair brushed in casual waves to her shoulders, her make-up perfect, the black dress she wore clinging suggestively to her model-thin figure. The contrast, in the style and wearer of the two black gowns, had the effect of making Holly’s look nun-like! ‘Pour me a drink, darling, you know what I like. Hello, Holly,’ she greeted with her usual friendliness. ‘What happened to you this afternoon?’
Holly gave the other woman a startled look, glancing briefly at the man she now knew was called Zack. His deliberately bland expression didn’t help her at all! ‘Happened?’ she enquired abruptly, wondering what on earth reason the man Zack had given for her not joining them this afternoon.
Maxine accepted her drink with a warm smile before once more looking at Holly. ‘Zack came to look for you. James was quite worried when he came back and said he couldn’t find you,’ she added derisively.
‘I—er—’ Holly gave Zack an angry glare, receiving only a mocking smile in return. ‘I was in the library.’
‘What a pity I didn’t think to look there,’ drawled Zack. ‘I’d been looking forward to meeting you.’
‘Really?’ she answered coldly.
‘Stop teasing her, Zack,’ Maxine cut in irritably. ‘What on earth can be keeping James?’ she added impatiently. ‘Probably Robert can’t decide which tie he’s to wear.’
Holly’s mouth tightened resentfully at the derision Maxine didn’t even try to hide. She didn’t know why the other woman came home at all if she was going to act like this. ‘Maybe he would have welcomed your opinion,’ she defended icily.
‘He has only to ask,’ Maxine told her in a bored voice.
That was the trouble, James would never ask his wife for anything, not her time, and certainly not her love. Couldn’t Maxine see that? Or did she just not care? If only—
‘Are your eyes really violet, Holly?’ Zack asked irrelevantly.
She gave him a puzzled frown. ‘So I’ve been told.’
‘Really, Zack,’ Maxine snapped tautly, ‘the colour of Holly’s eyes is of little interest.’
‘Not to me,’ he drawled. ‘I’ve never met a girl who has violet eyes, I’ve only ever seen Elizabeth Taylor’s in films.’
‘Holly bears little resemblance to Elizabeth Taylor,’ the other woman derided, her movements nervy as she kept glancing expectantly towards the door.
Zack gave Holly a long look of consideration. ‘No, she’s more like a red-haired Audrey Hepburn, all eyes.’
‘Brings out the protective instinct in you, does she, darling?’ Maxine’s voice had hardened to scorn.
‘A little,’ he nodded. ‘Maybe you should go up and see what’s keeping James, Maxine,’ he suggested softly. ‘It’s almost eight o’clock.’
Holly was becoming concerned with James’s nonappearance herself, although she was more than a little surprised to see Maxine actually leave the room as Zack had told her to do.
‘You can close your mouth now,’ he drawled with amusement once they were alone.
Her mouth closed with a snap. This man gave the impression of making life a game, and yet he missed none of the emotions or movements of those about him.
‘And maybe in future,’ he added, dangerously soft, ‘you should keep your opinions concerning Maxine and James to yourself.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ she gasped.
‘You heard me.’ The lazy humour had completely gone from his face and voice now, revealing a more steely side to his character. ‘They have enough problems already, without a third person adding to them,’ he warned.
‘If anyone is an unwanted third person here it isn’t me,’ she snapped. ‘You—’ she broke off as she heard the descent of the lift from the bedrooms to the ground floor, a necessity with James’s wheelchair, and turned away as the other couple entered the room a few seconds later.
James looked tired, more tired and strained than she had ever seen him. Her anger towards the other couple grew. How dared this man Zack tell her not to interfere when he and Maxine were the ones hurting James!
‘Holly, my dear,’ James greeted her with a smile. ‘Maxine tells me you were in the library all the time this afternoon.’
She hated deceiving this man, and yet about this she had little choice. ‘Er—yes, for a while.’
‘But you and Zack have been introduced now?’
‘Well …’
‘There hasn’t really been the time or opportunity,’ Zack answered him.
James frowned. ‘Maxine, didn’t you—’
‘Of course not,’ his wife cut in sharply. ‘The two of them were together when I came downstairs, I naturally assumed Zack had introduced himself. He isn’t usually so backward in coming forward.’
‘What must you think of our manners, Holly!’ James said irritably. ‘This is my brother Zack. Zack, my secretary, Holly Macey.’
His brother! That was the only part of the introduction that registered with Holly. This man Zack, the man she had been consistently rude to, was James’s brother. No wonder she had confused the two of them at first glance, the family resemblance was such as to have easily made that mistake. But how could Zack Benedict have such contempt for his own brother, talk so scathingly about him getting up and walking?
‘Mr Benedict,’ she nodded abrupt acknowledgment of him.
‘Zack,’ he corrected smoothly. ‘Or Zachary, if you prefer. But never Mr Benedict, Holly, Surely you’re used to the informality here by now?’
Holly flushed her resentment as he very effectively reminded her that she was the outsider here, but she was restricted from answering him as she would have liked because of the other couple. Zack Benedict had deliberately encouraged her to believe her mistaken assumption of the reason he was here, was even now enjoying her discomfort, a taunting smile to his lips. But was she so wrong about his relationship with Maxine? Just because the two men were brothers that didn’t preclude such a relationship between Maxine and Zack, in fact it could increase the possibility, the two men were enough alike to encourage Maxine to transfer her attention to the mobile brother.
She looked up to find Zack Benedict’s eyes narrowed on her, as hard as emeralds as he seemed to guess her thoughts. Her head went back in challenge. ‘Zack,’ she repeated softly.
‘Well, now that’s settled,’ Maxine put in waspishly, ‘could we go in to dinner? It’s hours since Zack and I ate in London.’
‘But it was a delicious meal,’ Zack smiled, grooves etched either side of his mouth. ‘You have such a good cook.’
‘Yes, I do, don’t I?’ Maxine purred at the compliment, smiling naturally for the first time that evening. ‘You remember Abigail, James?’
‘Of course I remember her,’ he snapped his bad humour. ‘I hired her!’
His wife flushed. ‘It’s been so long since you visited the flat in London that I—’
‘I may be confined to a wheelchair, Maxine, but I am not senile!’ he cut in harshly. ‘Let’s go in to dinner,’ he decided roughly.
‘James—’
‘Dinner,’ he repeated in an autocratic voice, a voice that brooked no argument from anyone.
Maxine was the one to walk beside the electrically operated wheelchair as they went through to the dining-room, and Holly had perforce to accept the arm Zack Benedict mockingly held out to her. Not that she gave him a second glance, being too taken aback by James’s attitude to Maxine. She had never heard him speak to his wife like that before in her presence, and she could only wonder at his uncharacteristic sharpness with her now. Perhaps he too wondered about his wife’s relationship with his young brother.
The small round table had been set with four places, one of the chairs being removed as James skilfully manouevred his chair into this vacant spot. Holly and Maxine were to sit either side of him, with Zack opposite, the younger man seeing both woman seated with a gallant flourish.
The meal was nothing like the quiet ones of enjoyment Holly and James had shared together in the evenings the last few weeks, James eating his food in morose silence, Maxine and Zack seeming lost in their own thoughts, Holly just feeling awkward and uncomfortable in the tense atmosphere.
‘How is the writing going, James?’ Zack finally cut through the soft clatter of cutlery.
‘Fine,’ his brother answered curtly.
‘I’m sure working with Holly must be a great inspiration,’ the younger man taunted.
‘Holly is—restful to be with,’ James replied slowly.
‘Really?’ Dark blond brows rose over sceptical green eyes. ‘She doesn’t make me feel that way.’
‘Holly makes Zack feel protective,’ Maxine put in derisively.
Hazel eyes sharpened suspiciously. ‘Protective?’
‘Actually,’ Zack answered the other man, ‘she doesn’t make me feel that way either. Can you sing, Holly?’
‘Sing?’ she echoed in a startled voice, leaning back as her soup bowl was removed to be replaced with a clean plate for her main course. When she first came to work here she had been slightly unnerved by the abundance of servants in the house, but now she took it in her stride, although she was aware that the household staff considered her to be apart from them, treating her more like a guest than an employee like themselves.
‘Mm,’ Zack was watching her over the rim of the wine glass he held cupped in his hands. ‘With your looks, some sexy clothes, and a good singing voice, you could go far.’
‘At least as far as your bed, darling,’ Maxine drawled mockingly.
‘Maxine!’ James slammed his glass down on the table. ‘Keep that sort of talk for your London friends, neither Holly or I appreciate it.’
His wife’s mouth tightened at the rebuke. ‘But we all know Zack’s little songbirds occupy his bed at some time or other.’
‘You flatter me, sweet,’ Zack said dryly. ‘I have been known to fail on the odd occasion.’
‘I’m sure that neither Holly nor I are interested in your prowess in bed,’ his brother dismissed.
Mocking green eyes were turned on her. ‘Aren’t you?’
A delicate blush darkened her cheeks. ‘I’ve always believed that if a man has to constantly prove himself in bed with a string of different women there’s something wrong with him,’ she told him coldly.
‘Such as?’ He was still amused.
‘Such as he really prefers men, he’s very shallow, or he’s just afraid to fall in love with one woman,’ she said bluntly, looking only at him as she made the statement.
Maxine gave a laugh of pure enjoyment, her air of bored sophistication leaving her for a moment. ‘Well, Zack?’ she gave a gurgle of laughter, looking years younger, a warm glow to her blue eyes.
‘Hm,’ he grimaced. ‘You can safely discount the first, Holly,’ he said dryly. ‘I enjoy and like women too much for that to be true. The second? No, I don’t think I’m shallow either. A little cynical, perhaps,’ he admitted thoughtfully. ‘As for being afraid of love …’ he shook his head, ‘I don’t think that’s true either. What’s your excuse?’
She raised startled eyes at the unexpected suddenness of the question. ‘Excuse for what?’ she frowned.
‘For not being married.’
‘I—’
‘Holly is only twenty-two,’ James defended tautly. ‘Much too young to be married.’
‘I was engaged to you at that age,’ Maxine reminded him sharply.
‘That was different,’ he snapped.
‘Was it?’ Her voice was hard.
‘I think so,’ he nodded grimly.
‘How?’
‘Maxine—’
‘How was it different, James?’ she persisted.
His eyes were hard as he looked at her. ‘This is not the time to discuss it.’
‘It never is.’ She stood up with a noisy scrape of her chair. ‘Excuse me,’ her tone was brittle, ‘I’m no longer hungry.’
‘Maxine!’ James’ voice thundered across the room, halting her.
She turned slowly to face her husband, very pale beneath her make-up. ‘Yes?’
‘Sit down,’ he ordered abruptly.
‘Go to hell!’ she snapped.
His mouth tightened ominously. ‘I—said—sit—down!’
Maxine’s head went back in challenge. ‘Make me.’
James went deathly pale. ‘Bitch!’ he groaned in a pained voice, and threw his napkin down on the table, manoeuvring his chair over to the door, pushing it open with a crash. The room was starkly silent after his exit.
Maxine suddenly gave a choked cry before she too rushed from the room.
