Long Night's Loving. Anne Mather
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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 forced herself to sit up.
And then she saw him, his lean frame reflected over and over in the mirrors all around her. He was propped against the open doorway that led into the adjoining dressing room, watching her with careless indifference as she struggled to hide her reaction from him.
‘How did you get in?’ she demanded, her hand reaching automatically for the facecloth to cover her puckered breasts, and then withdrawing again. Why should she be coy when he knew exactly what she was hiding? she decided tautly. Her breasts were one of her better features, even if they weren’t as young and firm as they’d once been.
‘How do you think?’ Neil responded, and although his tone was just as careless she knew he’d noticed her body. His eyes had flickered. nothing more, but between her legs she felt a melting sensation that had nothing to do with why she was here.
‘Then I suggest you get out again,’ she said, realising that such feelings were exactly why she hadn’t wanted to come. The last thing she wanted to do was let him see he could still disturb her. She must not let him get the upper hand, however emotional he made her feel.
Neil straightened, but he didn’t turn away. He had changed his clothes, and she couldn’t help noticing how well the cream collarless shirt and dark brown trousers suited him. The shirt was loose, but the trousers were tight, enveloping his long legs and powerful thighs like a second skin. Dear God, she thought, why had she ever thought Oliver Massey was attractive? Compared to Neil, he was just a cipher—a man she had trusted, and who had betrayed her in the cruellest kind of way.
‘Believe it or not, but Luke was worried about you,’ he said, raising one hand to support himself against the overhead lintel. ‘It’s nearly eight o’clock, or hadn’t you noticed? He’s waiting for you to join us downstairs.’
Maggie tightened her lips. ‘And you’re not?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’ Now there was no mistaking the studied appraisal he gave her. ‘You’re still a beautiful woman, Maggie. I’m sure you know that as well as me. How many men have told you so in the last five years, I wonder? How many men have seen you as I’m seeing you now?’
Maggie bit back the urge to tell him. None! None! she wanted to cry, but admitting it would just be playing into his hands. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ she remarked instead, deliberately standing up so that he could see all of her. She reached for a towel and began to dry herself. ‘What’s the matter, Neil? Have you taken to being a voyeur in your old age?’
If she’d thought to disconcert him, she was sadly disappointed. ‘Perhaps I have,’ he answered, his dark eyes mirroring his contempt. ‘When you’re ready, we’ll have supper. I’ll tell Luke you’re on your way, shall I?’
‘If that’s what you want to do,’ said Maggie, hardly aware of what she was saying with those penetrating eyes stripping away everything, even her skin. She was naked before him, naked and vulnerable, but how vulnerable she hadn’t realised until this moment.
‘You have no idea what I want to do,’ he retorted, just when she was thinking he was completely invincible, and she was trembling so badly, she could hardly step out of the bath. ‘Just don’t push your luck, Maggie. I’m not the fool I once was. Believe me, I’m still tempted to send you back where you belong.’
Maggie wrapped the towel about her, and took a deep breath. ‘Lindsey, too?’ she asked tautly, and he scowled at her defiant face.
‘Why not?’ he said carelessly.
‘Because she’s your daughter,’ retorted Maggie harshly, and Neil’s arm dropped to his side.
‘Is she?’ he asked, and Maggie stared at him disbelievingly. ‘How do I know that some other man’s not her father?’
Maggie gulped. ‘That’s