A Marriage To Remember

Maggi shook her head wordlessly. For the moment there was nothing either of them could do about this situation; she just had to get on with the performance. What happened after that was anybody’s guess!

Her smile was one of complete professionalism as she turned back to face the audience, her gaze having passed sightlessly over Adam; if she didn’t look at him, maybe she would be able to get through this. Maybe...

She began to sing, accompanying herself on the guitar, aware that her own guitar work was not as good as Adam’s more intricate style. But then, it never had been; their styles had always complemented each other, had never been the same.

Adam had chosen to play—deliberately, so it seemed to Maggi—one of the songs they’d used to sing together, and as they approached the chorus she waited tensely for Adam to join in the harmony. His voice had always been rich and deep, a perfect contrast for her higher, throaty voice.

Even Maggi felt the goose-bumps down her spine as the two of them harmonised perfectly. God, it was as if they had never stopped singing together, as if they had been practising this song for weeks in the build-up to the music festival. And instead they hadn’t even seen each other for three years, hadn’t sung together for a long time before that...

The audience went wild with appreciation as the last notes trailed off the guitars, instantly recognising the perfection of Maggi and Adam’s performance. But it had always been like this between them on stage, a complete rapport, an understanding that went so much deeper than the music.

But Maggi still couldn’t bring herself to look at Adam, her heart sinking as the audience shouted for more. Not that she blamed any of these people for their enthusiasm; they were witnessing an event that had never been expected to happen again—Adam Carmichael and Maggi Fennell singing together once more.

“‘Home Town”,’ Adam prompted softly at her side, mentioning a song the two of them had recorded together several years ago, a song that had once been very successful for them.

She looked at him sharply, making no effort to comply with the command. ‘I don’t need you any more, Adam,’ she returned as softly. Both were aware of the live microphones in front of them.

His expression hardened; his grey eyes narrowed. ‘You never did. But at the moment we have an audience to please,’ he muttered harshly. “‘Home Town”,’ he repeated, with a firmness that brooked no argument, instantly launching into the fast introduction to the song.

All of this was beyond Maggi’s worst nightmares, and how she managed to get through the next thirty minutes she had no idea. But the audience were wild with joy, refusing to let them stop, demanding song after song, most of which Maggi had thought she would never, ever sing again.

She did all of it without looking at Adam—found she couldn’t look at him; it brought back too many memories. Memories she would rather forget...

‘We’ve gone over our time,’ she finally told him flatly as she pulled the guitar strap over her head, a signal to the audience, too, that she had finished. She flicked back the shining length of her hair.

Adam kept his guitar strap over his shoulder. ‘They want more,’ he pointed out dryly. Most of the audience were on their feet now, sensing they were going to lose the highlight of the evening, probably of the whole festival, and unwilling to relinquish such a treat.

Maggi’s blue eyes flashed as she looked across at him. ‘There are other people waiting to perform,’ she reminded him stiffly. The next performer had been standing in the wings for the last ten minutes, and was talking animatedly to Mark now—a Mark who didn’t look too responsive to whatever was being said to him as his gaze remained fixed fiercely on Maggi and Adam.

Adam glanced across at the two men in the wings too, ignoring Mark’s scowling face and grinning his satisfaction when the other man gestured his willingness for Maggi and Adam to continue. ‘He doesn’t seem to mind,’ Adam told Maggi with satisfaction.

‘But—’

“‘Passing Years”, Magdalena,’ Adam insisted challengingly.

Only Adam had ever called her by the name chosen by her Spanish mother; most people, her English father and even her mother, preferred to call her by the shortened version of Maggi. His use of her full name was enough to evoke even stronger memories of Adam and herself.

As was his suggestion that they sing ‘their song’...

She could feel her face pale even at the thought. She had sung it last night because it had been expected of her. But then she had sung it alone. She never wanted to perform that particular song with Adam again. It was too—She just couldn’t sing it with him!

‘You can, Magdalena,’ Adam bit out harshly, and Maggi realised she must have unwittingly spoken her protest out loud. ‘You can do anything you damn well want to!’ he added grimly.

She looked at him sharply, at the accusation in his cold grey eyes. ‘I don’t want to do this,’ she told him furiously.

‘Stop acting like a spoilt child, Magdalena.’ The coldness of his tone was like a slap in the face. ‘You chose to come back, to put yourself in the public eye again, and now you have to give them what they want!’

It was obvious, from the shouted encouragement of the audience, that what they wanted was for Adam and Maggi to continue—all night if possible. It was also obvious that Adam was quite happy to do that.

It had always been like this with Adam; everyone else’s feelings had always meant more to him than hers. He hadn’t changed, would never change.

‘All right, Adam, we’ll do this one last song,’ she finally conceded flatly, swinging her guitar strap back over her head onto her slender shoulder. ‘And then I’m leaving the stage. After that I don’t ever want to see you again.’ Her voice was strong and unyielding, but the words sounded childish in their intensity. But it was the truth; once she left this stage this evening she didn’t want Adam anywhere near her.

‘The first you may be able to do,’ he murmured softly, before turning back to the waiting audience. ‘The second you may not have any choice about,’ he added grimly.

Maggi looked at him sharply; exactly what did he mean by that last remark?

CHAPTER FOUR

‘I CAN’T believe he did that!’ Mark strode angrily up and down in their hotel suite. ‘I just couldn’t believe it was actually him up on the stage with you when I came back from the dressing-room with your guitar. Arrogant bastard!’ He shook his head, as if he still couldn’t quite take in what he had seen.

Maggi could easily understand his anger and disbelief; she was sure a lot of other people who had been in that hall tonight were still stunned at having seen Adam Carmichael.

As she was!

It all seemed like a dream now that they were back at their hotel, Maggi having escaped from the stage at the end of ‘their song’, glancing back only once, to see that Adam wasn’t having the same success in leaving, the audience calling for more, refusing to let him go. And with good reason; Adam was, and always had been, a phenomenon in his own right. He had gone on in the last three years to be an entertainer much in demand all over the world. The audience tonight had been more than aware of just how privileged they were to hear him sing so unexpectedly.

But Maggi could well have done without it, and was still shaken by the way he had joined her on stage in that autocratic way. But then, he always had been the most arrogant man she’d ever met in her life; he didn’t believe any of the rules were meant for him, living his life by his own set of codes—and they were like no one else’s. When Maggi had first met him she had believed his arrogance to be self-confidence, had felt protected by it—it had only been later that she had learnt, to her cost, just how wrong she was...!

‘He ruined your comeback, damn him!’ Mark continued furiously. ‘You were going to do this on your own, and now he’s—’

‘What’s done is done, Mark.’ She sat in one of the armchairs, exhausted, mainly by all the emotional trauma of the evening. ‘There’s nothing we can do to change that,’ she added wearily, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that the music festival had turned into a fiasco as far as the return of her music career went.

It had all been planned so carefully, the whole thing to be taken slowly: the music festival this weekend, a couple of other low-key gigs lined up for next month—nothing too exacting, just a slow introduction back into the world she loved best. But if the Press got to hear of the performance with Adam this evening...!

‘I can’t do the third evening tomorrow, Mark,’ she told him.

Mark stopped his pacing and looked across at her. ‘You have to, Maggi.’ He frowned. ‘You’re billed to appear and people will be expecting to hear you.’ Mark was another person who believed that the public must be given what they wanted.

She shook her head, a rueful smile on her lips. ‘They will be expecting to hear Adam too now,’ she pointed out with a heavy sigh. ‘And they will be disappointed,’ she added determinedly; there was no way she was going to perform tomorrow evening and have Adam do to her again what he had done tonight. ‘I—’ She broke off as a knock sounded firmly on the door of their hotel suite, her eyes wide as she gave a startled look in its direction.

She didn’t need two guesses as to who was standing on the other side of it; Adam had obviously managed to find her at last. She didn’t want to see him just now. If ever!

‘It’s Adam,’ she told Mark with certainty, standing up abruptly. ‘I don’t want to see him, Mark.’ She gave a shake of her head.

Mark’s mouth was set angrily, blue eyes blazing as he too turned towards the door. ‘But I do!’ he grated. ‘I—’

‘Then you see him,’ she dismissed agitatedly as that knock sounded firmly again. ‘I’m going to my room.’ She turned quickly on her heel.

‘This had to happen some time, Maggi,’ Mark called after her softly. ‘Isn’t it better to get it over with now?’

Speak to Adam? Be close to him once again? Know the full force of his personality? Know she had once loved him to distraction? Until he had destroyed that love as callously as he might have swatted a fly, when it no longer suited him to have her love. To look at him again and know all that?

‘No!’ she told Mark with a shudder of revulsion. ‘It isn’t better to “get it over with now”. I was over Adam a long time ago, said everything that needed to be said then; I have no reason to ever see him again!’ She strode determinedly from the room, unwilling to listen to any more arguments for reason from Mark, closed her bedroom door behind her and sat down heavily on the bed, because her legs were shaking too much to support her, reaction having set in with a vengeance.

She had sung on a stage with Adam this evening—something she had been sure would never happen again. Something she had sworn would never happen again!

Even now she still had trouble believing it had happened. It had been just like old times, their voices harmonising as if it were only yesterday when they’d last sung together.

They had been the perfect couple, both on and off the stage. Everyone had said so. The love they had shared had deepened their performance when they’d sung together. Until tragedy had struck so unexpectedly and Maggi could no longer sing at Adam’s side. It had been then, when she’d already felt as if she was in the depths of despair, that she had learnt all too forcibly just how tenuous the love that Adam had professed to feel for her was.

She could hear the murmur of voices in the other room, knew that whatever Mark had said when he opened the door to Adam it hadn’t been enough to get the other man to leave. Not that she would have expected it to be. Adam had been arrogant enough three years ago; his solo success since that time had probably just made him more so!

Mark’s voice was rising in anger now, and Maggi felt herself cringe inside as she heard the slow coldness with which Adam made his replies. He always had been able to rip a person to shreds with that icy control, and no matter how angry Mark might be, and however justified his anger, Maggi knew he was no match for Adam’s cool determination.

Mark’s voice seemed to be getting louder. ‘I’ve told you, Adam—’

‘I don’t give a damn what you’ve told me,’ Adam returned harshly. ‘I intend to see Magdalena before I leave.’ Even as he made this last statement the bedroom door was flung open, Adam almost filling the doorway as he stood there, his six-foot-four height only inches away from the top of the doorframe.

‘Nice bedroom,’ he drawled mockingly as he strolled nonchalantly into the room, just as if it hadn’t been ages since they had last spoken, as if there hadn’t been all that heartache with the passing of those years. ‘I’m sure the two of you are very comfortable here,’ he added hardly, grey eyes still icy cold as he met Maggi’s rebellious gaze. ‘You always did like your creature comforts, didn’t you, Magdalena? And a nice big bed was one of them.’ He looked pointedly at the king-size bed she still sat on. ‘Preferably with a man inside it!’ he added harshly.

Maggi gasped at his insulting tone, and in the outer room she could see Mark’s hands clench into fists at his sides; she knew that his volatile temper was in danger of exploding. But it would be no match for the freezing concentration of Adam’s!

She drew in a deep breath and stood up, feeling at a complete disadvantage sitting on the bed. Not that standing up made too much difference to that; Adam always had had the ability to make her look—and feel!—like a little girl disguised as a woman, her shortness and slenderness of frame emphasised by his height and sheer masculinity.

‘How right you are,’ she returned, sounding much more calm than she actually felt. ‘But I do draw the line at having two men in my bedroom at the same time!’ she told him levelly, walking over to the doorway where Mark still stood. ‘Shall we all go through to the lounge?’ She looked at them both pointedly.

Adam shrugged broad shoulders beneath his black silk shirt. ‘I’m quite happy for this conversation to take place in there,’ he dismissed with a mocking twist of his lips. ‘It was your boyfriend here who had a problem with it.’ He looked contemptuously down his aristocratic nose at Mark as he strode past him; he was several inches taller than the younger man, despite Mark’s own six feet in height.

Maggi walked slowly back into the sitting-room, aware of the two men behind her; they were so different as to be almost opposites. Mark was easygoing, comfortable to be with, undemanding, whereas Adam, ten years his senior, had never been any of those things; he was the most demanding man she had ever met, and, far from finding him comfortable to be with, she had always been very aware of him in every way, her senses constantly alive to his mere presence.

Which was probably why she had been so sure last night that he was at this music festival; she had sensed he was there!

‘You’re looking well, Magdalena,’ Adam told her softly once they were all assembled in the sitting-room.

That name again!

She sat down in one of the armchairs, more tired from the strain of the evening than she cared to admit. She sat forward in the chair, unable to relax, the darkness of her hair falling forward over her shoulders. ‘How did you expect me to look, Adam?’ she returned scornfully, deep blue eyes clashing with icy grey. ‘Broken and defeated?’ As she had undoubtedly been on the day he’d left her life three years ago!

At the time she hadn’t believed, after what had already happened to her, that her life could get any worse than it already was; how wrong she had been! She hadn’t allowed for Adam, for his cold selfishness.

His mouth tightened. ‘No, I—’

‘As you can see, Adam—’ Mark was the one to interrupt him ‘—Maggi is happy and well—and doing just fine without you!’ he added challengingly.

Glacial eyes were turned in his direction. ‘When I want your opinion, dear cousin—’ Adam drawled the last two words insultingly ‘—I’ll ask for it! At this moment I happen to be talking to Magdalena.’

Cousin. Yes, these men were first cousins. It was hard to believe they could be related, that their mothers had been sisters, but it had been through her friendship with Mark that she had first met Adam, having accompanied the younger man to a family wedding. Adam had got up to sing during the reception and Mark had encouraged Maggi to join him. Even then, though their performance was completely unrehearsed, it had been obvious to the people listening that there was something magical about the two of them singing together.

Adam had been at the wedding with his long-term girlfriend, Jane, and Maggi had been dating Mark for almost six months. But something had happened between the two of them that day, and when Adam had telephoned her a couple of days later, having got her number from Mark, and suggested they go through some songs together with the intention of actually performing them in front of an audience in the future, Maggi had felt no hesitation in agreeing to meet him.

If only she had hesitated! If only she could have known the heartache that would follow, then she would never, ever have gone near Adam after that telephone call.

‘As Mark has already told you,’ she firmly answered Adam now, ‘I am very well, thank you.’

Adam’s mouth twisted again at the formality of her tone. ‘I’m so glad!’ he returned tauntingly.

Her head went back challengingly. ‘Are you?’

Adam’s jaw tensed, a warning of his building anger. ‘What sort of question is that? Of course I’m glad you’re fit and well again,’ he bit out harshly.

‘I would have thought Maggi’s scepticism was only too well deserved,’ Mark derided dismissively. ‘You haven’t exactly been falling over yourself with concern for her welfare in the last three years!’

Adam was very still, a nerve pulsing in his now tightly clenched jaw, the lines beside his nose and mouth, acquisitions of those years, becoming more pronounced. ‘And just how would you know what I have been doing?’ he grated accusingly. ‘You seem to have had your hands full during that time bedding Magdalena!’

‘Mark, no!’ Maggi had time to shout before she rushed across the room to stop his fist actually making contact with Adam, managing to put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘He isn’t worth it, Mark,’ she told him quietly, her gaze softly compelling on his flushed face. ‘He never was,’ she added heavily, knowing it was true.

It had taken her a long time to accept it—weeks, months of pain and disillusionment, before realising that after two years of living her life for and with Adam he was no longer there for her, not physically or emotionally. That perhaps he never had been.

It was said that you never knew the extent of a person’s love until faced with adversity; Adam had turned and walked away the first time their relationship had come up against a serious obstacle.

She turned to look at him as he stood so mockingly in front of Mark. ‘Our relationship is none of your concern, Adam,’ she told him flatly. ‘Nothing that has happened in my life over the last three years is,’ she added determinedly.

Adam’s mouth curved wryly. ‘I’ve been waiting most of that time for some family announcement of a wedding between the two of you.’ He looked at them both coldly. ‘Or did she turn you down a second time, Mark?’ he added scornfully.

Again Maggi put a restraining hand on Mark’s arm. Adam had always liked to bait the younger man. The friendship she’d had with his cousin before knowing him had always been a sore point with him, even though it had been Adam she had loved. It was true that perhaps if she had never met Adam she might have one day married Mark. But she had met Adam, and so the question of any marriage between herself and Mark was now ridiculous. As Adam must know only too well. He was just playing his games again—and she, for one, did not want to play!

‘Mark and I don’t need marriage to cement our relationship.’ Again Maggi was the one to answer him. ‘We know how we feel about each other,’ she added challengingly, feeling some of the tension leave Mark as her hand still rested on his arm.

Adam’s mouth thinned disapprovingly. ‘So does everyone else when the two of you are openly staying here together!’ He looked around him pointedly.

‘Moral indignation, Adam?’ Mark taunted, completely in control again now, squeezing Maggi’s hand in thanks for her support before moving slightly away. ‘That’s rich, coming from you.’ He looked at the other man contemptuously.

Neither Maggi nor Mark, she was sure, had any intention of telling Adam that this suite had two bedrooms: one for Mark and one for herself. If he chose to believe the two of them shared the bedroom they had just left, then that was Adam’s problem. He only had his own warped morals by which to judge other people...

Adam looked coldly at the younger man for several seconds before slowly turning back to Maggi. ‘I didn’t come here to talk to the monkey,’ he bit out disgustedly, his gaze dark on Maggi’s face now. ‘I spoke to the organisers of the festival after you left earlier,’ he told her smoothly. ‘They were very pleased with the way things went this evening.’

‘You had no right to talk to any—’

‘I’m sure they were,’ Maggi interrupted Mark’s angry outburst, glaring steadily at Adam.

He nodded unconcernedly. ‘They would like us to repeat the performance tomorrow evening.’

‘No,’ she told him flatly, having already guessed what he was going to say; the organisers of the festival would be very silly not to try and cash in on the fact that Adam Carmichael was willing to perform. ‘For one thing, I’m sure a world-famous celebrity like yourself must have a more pressing engagement—’

‘None that I can think of,’ he dismissed easily, looking at her challengingly now, hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his black trousers.

‘And for another,’ she continued as if he hadn’t interrupted, ‘I’m a solo performer myself now. I don’t sing with anyone else.’ It was a flat statement of fact which held no challenge. ‘The organisers either accept that, and I go on stage alone tomorrow evening, or I don’t perform at all,’ she added.

His mouth twisted. ‘You’re better than you ever were, Magdalena,’ he acknowledged dryly. ‘So I’m sure they will accept that.’

‘Then there’s no problem, is there?’ She gave him a humourless smile, immune to his praise, knowing that it was being given on a purely professional level; that was one area where Adam was always completely objective. As she knew only too well.

He shrugged those broad shoulders. ‘The problem is, we were always better together than apart.’

Maggi drew in a harsh breath. ‘It’s a little late in the day for you to realise that!’ she snapped scornfully.

‘I always knew it, Magdalena,’ he told her softly. ‘It’s just that there were commitments three years ago, commitments you weren’t able to meet—’

‘You know damn well why she wasn’t able to meet them!’ Mark exploded. ‘Good God, man, she—’

‘That’s all old ground, Mark,’ she interrupted firmly, her voice a little shriller than she would have wished. But to talk of the past was still hurtful for her; she couldn’t deal with it objectively. ‘It certainly has no relevance to here and now. It must be all too obvious that we have completely separate lives now, Adam. And I want it to continue that way,’ she added hardly. Knowing Adam in the past had ultimately brought her only pain; she had no illusions left where he was concerned. She certainly didn’t want her life involved with his again—not in any way!

‘Musically—’

‘Musically too,’ she cut in. ‘It’s late, Adam,’ she continued. ‘It’s been a long day, and I would like to get some sleep.’

He made no move to leave. ‘You do realise there are bound to be repercussions from our being on stage together tonight?’

She wasn’t so naive that she didn’t realise their joint performance this evening would give rise to speculation about a new merging of talents; she just didn’t want to deal with it now. Certainly not when Adam was present!