For One Night. PENNY JORDAN
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have changed a lot since those days.”
Diana realized what she meant as she walked into the room and saw the array of modern technology arranged before her.
One entire wall of the room was filled with filing cabinets. On a very utilitarian desk stood a computer terminal with all the ancillary equipment, plus a modern computer-linked telephone.
Like the passage, the floor was flagged, and struck a chill through the thin soles of her sandals. Central heating had obviously been installed at some time, and there was also a huge open fireplace. A modern filter coffee machine stood next to an electronic typewriter.
“The men are in and out of this room constantly, that’s why Mr. Simons uses it. It’s convenient for them, and they don’t have to worry about treading muck and dirt in. Farming isn’t what it used to be. Would you like something to drink while you’re waiting. Tea … coffee?”
All her adult life Diana had been a coffee fiend; now all she could tolerate was tea—weak tea.
“Mr. Simons won’t be very long,” the housekeeper promised her as she withdrew.
Alone in the room, Diana was conscious of the thickness of the walls and the stillness of the air inside. She sat down on a leather chair and looked out of the window.
In the yard outside were several pieces of farm machinery. She saw a man trudge out of one of the barns; he was small and gnarled, and she watched his progress as he swung himself up into one of the tractors and then trundled off.
Obviously not the man she had come to see. The phone chirped, and was answered somewhere else in the house. The housekeeper returned with her tea and a selection of what looked like homemade biscuits.
“Sorry about the delay,” she apologized, “only Mrs. Simons needed me.”
She must have frowned, Diana realized, because the housekeeper explained, “Mrs. Simons is confined to a wheelchair. She caught polio when she was twenty-seven.”
Poor woman, Diana thought compassionately. She knew for herself what pain could do to the human spirit; she had seen at first hand what it could do to a person to lose their mobility and independence. And for a farmer’s wife, even an obviously wealthy farmer’s wife …
She thanked the housekeeper for the tea and sat down again. The cold was beginning to make her shiver. Her thin top and skirt, so suitable for the heat of the sun, were not suitable attire for this stone-flagged room.
She drank her tea, sipping it, and giving in to the temptation to eat one of the biscuits. They tasted as good as they looked. Once she was over her morning nausea, she was beginning to get so hungry; the weight she had lost during the long months of worrying about and nursing Leslie would soon be regained if she carried on like this. Not that she couldn’t afford to put on half a stone or so, she reflected, remembering the doctor’s warning to her that she must eat properly.
She was sitting staring out of the window, lost in her own thoughts when the door opened. She felt the draught of air, even before she heard the firm masculine footsteps and turned round.
The cup tilted crazily in her hand, the room blurring out of focus as the shock hit her. He stood in the doorway, frowning down at her, his recognition as complete and instantaneous as her own.
“You …” Diana said at last. How, how had this happened? How on earth could this man standing here be that same man from the hotel bedroom in London? It was like the worst kind of nightmare; stretching the long arm of coincidence far too far. And he obviously thought so too.
“Well, well, congratulations on your detective work,” he jeered, sarcastically, overcoming his shock faster than she had controlled her own. “So you managed to track me down. I suppose I ought to have expected it.”
He was dressed in worn jeans and a plaid shirt, open to the waist to show the leanness of his chest. Tiny beads of sweat clung to his kin, and there was a streak of mud across his cheekbone. His hair was ruffled, his eyes bitingly dark, his stance that of a man who knows he’s threatened but is determined not to give way.
Diana noticed all these things without really being aware of doing so, her mind only registering the meaning of his words minutes after she had heard them.
“What do you mean?” She stood up, trembling with shock and rage. How dared he appear like this, ruining all her plans, ruining all her happiness! She wanted to close her eyes and make him disappear. She couldn’t believe he was real; she didn’t want him to be real. She was ready to stamp her foot like a petulant child, only he wasn’t going to go away. He was still standing in that doorway, watching her with brooding resentment, and he thought …
He actually dared to think she had deliberately sought him out … had actually and deliberately tracked him down! She froze with bitter resentment, and then another and even more appalling truth struck her. He was a married man, and she was carrying his child. No wonder he was so resentful of her appearance. A married man who cheated on his wife. Her mouth curled disdainfully as she controlled her shock.
“Mr. Simons,” she said firmly, “I think there’s been some mistake.”
“You’re damned right there has,” he agreed, cutting through the polite facade of her words. “And you’re the one who’s made it. I don’t know what you think you’re doing following me down here, but you can just turn right round and go back where you came from.”
Oh yes, he would like that. Diana was seething. How dared he infer that she was chasing after him! Her eyes flashed warning signals, her lungs expanding as she fought for self-control.
“Unfortunately, you’re wrong,” she told him crisply. “This is now my home.”
She saw the shock glitter in his eyes, and if she hadn’t been so angry she might almost have felt hurt. After all, when they had made love he had been glad enough to have her in his arms … more than glad. She clamped down fiercely on the memories.
“I’ve just bought a business down here,” her chin tilted aggressively, “that’s why I’m here, in fact. My builder told me that you have some beams for sale.”
“A business?” His frown had deepened. “My God, don’t tell me you’re the one who’s bought Alice Simms’s shop?”
“As a matter of fact I am.”
She heard him groan and push strong fingers into his hair.
“I learned it was for sale through my solicitor, Mr ….”
“Soames,” he finished wearily for her. “Christ, of all the coincidences. I don’t think I believe this.”
“You know him?”
“Know him?” He laughed harshly. “Didn’t he tell you that I was his cotrustee in Alice’s estate?”
For a moment Diana was completely dumbfounded. Of course Mr. Soames had mentioned his cotrustee and she had even known that he lived here at Whitegates Farm, but the shock of coming face-to-face with the very last person on earth she had wanted to see had driven that knowledge out of her mind.
Her white face and strained eyes must have told their own story, because suddenly his attitude changed.
“Look, coming face-to-face like this has obviously been a shock—to both of us.” He reached out as though to take her arm, but Diana wrenched away from him furiously.
Oh, he wanted to placate her now that he realized he was in the wrong—and no wonder. No doubt he was terrified that she might spill the beans to his wife. God, what sort of man was he? She had never dreamed that he might be married. More fool her for not immediately guessing the truth.
“A minute ago you were convinced that I’d pursued you down here,” she reminded him bitterly.
“We have to talk ….”
Oh yes, he wanted to talk to her now that he realized they were going to be neighbors,