A Bad Enemy. Sara Craven
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calmly. ‘But through his granddaughter and her husband, rather than his grandson as he’d intended. Gerard’s unfailing record of unreliability and self-interest has caught up with him at last, I’m afraid. He knew that I was moving in, and he could have stayed and fought for his place in the sun. But no. As soon as he thought the danger was averted, he just cleared out, and that kind of failure in judgment can be fatal when you’re trying to run a company in times like these.’
Lisle sat as if she had been turned to stone.
‘Of course,’ Jake went on, ‘you might have been able to warn him, if you’d shown your face in the office for the past ten days, but your attendance record is one of the poorest I’ve seen. Your department head is loyal to the Bannerman name. He said you were working on a promotion for the Salzburg Fair at home, but he didn’t speak with any real conviction. I suppose the poor guy has never dared tell you that real public relations work isn’t merely acting as some kind of high class call-girl at your brother’s behest.’
She said hoarsely, ‘You—bastard! How dare you. …’
‘I dare more than that,’ he said flatly. ‘I might not even complain if it had all paid off—if the intimate dinners for potential customers, the drunken thrashes at your flat, the weekends on the boat had produced a full order book. But even you must know that’s not the case. And yet you’ve a lovely face, and an enticing body, so what went wrong? Perhaps your heart wasn’t in your work.’
Lisle felt sick with rage and shame. That he, or anyone else, could think such things made her feel utterly degraded, even though there was no reason for it. She’d never been overwhelmed with enthusiasm for acting as Gerard’s hostess, but she played the role he had chosen for her to the best of her ability, learning to recognise the gleam in the eye which suggested that one of the guests might be getting the wrong idea, and distance herself with charm yet finality, because it was Harlow Bannerman she was selling, and not, under any circumstances, herself.
Yes, she had allowed Gerard to use the flat for parties, but then as Harlow Bannerman were subsidising the rent, she had felt she could hardly refuse. But she had attended few of them herself, usually spending the night with friends. And since Janie had moved in with her, she had been able to use that as an excuse for Gerard to go elsewhere, because there had been disturbing indications that some of the entertainments he gave were by no means as conventional or innocent as he claimed.
Gerard had often laughed at her, complaining that she was a prude, and perhaps she was. Uneasily she recalled again the slapped face incident, and his subsequent fury, and there had been other occasions when his attitude had switched from amusement to exasperation, when he had exerted none too subtle pressure on her to ‘relax’, to be ‘nicer’ to certain clients. At times they had come close to quarrelling about it, but not seriously, because she couldn’t believe that he meant it seriously.
But now suddenly she was no longer so sure. The fact that her own motives and behaviour had been so totally misunderstood was making her question Gerard’s for the first time, and shed a new and disturbing light on his half grumbling, half amused accusations of prudishness.
She swallowed, steadying her hurried breathing. ‘You have no right to say these things to me! What do you imagine my grandfather would think if he could hear you?’
‘Murray hasn’t been living in a vacuum for the past year or two,’ he said. ‘I don’t think he suffers from many illusions, even about you. Love isn’t always blind, you know. He probably wants to get you married off before some real disaster occurs. And as our paths hadn’t crossed, I expect he hoped I wouldn’t have heard of the reputation you were so busily garnering for yourself.’
Reputation, Lisle thought. If it wasn’t so appalling, it would be almost funny. Because Gerard’s accusations weren’t so far from the truth. She couldn’t explain it. It might be some kind of mental revulsion against her brother’s inveterate womanising, it might be that she had never met a man who appealed to her sufficiently, or even because of some basic unsuspected flaw deep within her personality, but she was still, at twenty-three, a virgin.
The coffee was cold now, and bitter, but even so she doubted if she could have lifted the cup without betraying how she was shaking. Jake was watching her closely—waiting for a confession, or some attempt at self-justification, she wondered furiously. Well, he’d wait for ever! she told herself, avoiding his intent gaze.
He said coolly, ‘It’s time we were going up to the ward. Sister was noncommittal but not particularly optimistic when I spoke to her, but he’s conscious, and when he sees us together there’ll be just one thing on his mind. Can I take it as read that you won’t contradict me if I tell him we’ve just become engaged?’
She moistened dry lips. ‘Will he believe it—as we’ve only just met?’
He shrugged one shoulder. ‘If we were trying to convince him it was a love match, probably not. But as all three of us know the score, I think it will be a great relief to him that we’re not wasting any time.’
‘That’s putting it mildly.’ Lisle threaded the strap of her bag through her fingers. She managed an unsteady laugh. ‘Just what am I being rushed into?’
‘Well, certainly not marriage,’ he drawled. ‘I have no plans in that direction, and if I had they wouldn’t include you, my dear Miss Bannerman. This is a pretence engagement, the sole purpose of which is to put your grandfather’s mind at rest and reassure him about your future when he’s no longer here to worry about you. So don’t indulge in any fantasies that I’ve been swept away by your undoubted charms.’ He stood up, and once again she was made unwillingly aware of his height, and the sheer domination of his personality. She had met a lot of successful men, but few of them had an iota of his undoubted physical attraction, and most of them by his age—mid-thirties, she judged— were already married and settled with families.
She walked silently beside him towards the lift, and still in silence rode up to the next floor where the intensive care unit was established.
It was like something out of a space odyssey, she thought uneasily, looking around her.
Sister in her sexless white gown was briskly reassuring. ‘He’s doing as well as can be expected, that’s all I can say,’ she told them in her office. She gave a rich chuckle. ‘He’s certainly a bonny fighter, but he’s been getting himself dangerously over-excited. He’s been giving my young nurses hell because they wouldn’t bring him a telephone trolley—the very idea! I had to speak severely to him,’ she added tranquilly.
Lisle managed a wavering smile in return. She was sitting in a chair facing Sister’s desk, and Jake was perched on the arm of it. She was acutely conscious of the warmth of his body near hers, and it had been all she could do not to draw away when he sat down so close to her.
Jake said calmly, ‘I hope the good news we have for him won’t have an adverse effect.’
‘Anything that will stop him worrying so much can only do good.’ Sister paused. ‘Am I to take it that congratulations are in order?’
With a shock, Lisle felt Jake’s hand cover hers, then lift it to his lips. It was only the briefest caress, but her flesh felt as if it had been seared with a brand.
‘You’ve guessed our secret, Sister,’ Jake said softly. He looked down into Lisle’s startled face, his lips smiling tenderly, but his grey eyes brilliant with mockery. ‘As we’re making no announcement yet, darling, we’re going to have to try and hide our feelings for each other, at least in public.’
Through frozen lips, she managed, ‘Yes.’
He bent towards her, and for one paralysed moment she thought he was going to kiss her on the mouth, and every nerve in her body reacted in tension. His touch on her hand had been ordeal enough, but to feel his lips on hers, caressing, exploring, parting, would be unendurable.
And he knew that quite well. Still holding her panic-stricken gaze with his, he drew back, his smile hardening sardonically. ‘Shall we go and see Murray, my sweet?’
Sister