The Groom's Revenge

There was no one she could share her anxiety with, either. Her mother was under enough strain as it was, spending each day and often all night at the hospital. She was usually too tense and anxious even to eat properly. And Gary was too young, already worried about his father.

I’ll be back.

She didn’t doubt that he meant it. Already she had found three messages from Aidan on her father’s answering machine, the later ones distinctly less polite than the first. And only yesterday she had had a narrow escape when he had come to the door.

She had answered the summons of the bell automatically, but luckily had taken a second to glance out of an upstairs window before making her way down to the hall. The sight of the dark grey Jaguar parked in the driveway had had all the tiny hairs on the back of her neck lifting in instinctive alarm, freezing her to the spot.

A moment later Aidan’s dark head and powerful shoulders had become visible below her as he’d moved restlessly, impatient for an answer. Instinct had had India shrinking back against the wall, hidden by a thick velvet curtain, just seconds before he’d looked up, dark eyes raking the upper windows with an intensity that had made her shiver.

It was as if he’d known she was there, had been able to sense her presence as the wolf scented its prey. Fearfully India had flattened herself against the wall, staying there until the roar of the car’s engine told her he had gone. Even then, it had taken some minutes before she dared move at all.

But today at least the coast was clear, she acknowledged gratefully as she arrived back at the house with a load of groceries in the back of the car. There was no sign of anyone, no alien vehicle parked in the forecourt.

Relief made her heart lift. and she hummed softly to herself as she opened the boot and reached in for the two heavy shopping bags.

‘Here, let me help you with those.’

‘Oh, I...’

The bag she held almost slipped from her grasp, and she only avoided banging her head on the open end of the car by the narrowest of margins.

‘Careful,’ Aidan soothed, his voice and expression one of carefully assumed concern that she didn’t believe in for a second. ‘Let me take that’

‘I can manage perfectly well!’

Her thoughts were reeling in shock, sharpening her tone. It seemed almost as if he had been conjured up by her own mind.

‘Where the hell did you spring from?’

‘From Westbury,’ Aidan responded, knowing very well that that was not what she had meant at all. ‘I’ve been staying there for a few days.’

‘But your car...?’

‘Oh, I left that at the bottom of the drive and walked up.’

‘I never saw it.’

Too late, she realised that she had given herself away. Now Aidan would know that she had been looking for signs of his presence, worried that he might be around.

‘I don’t suppose you did.’ His smile was slow and filled with a lazy mockery that told her he had caught her momentary lapse. The glint of dark amusement in his eyes brightened as he went on, ‘But then, of course, I didn’t exactly leave it in full view. You can’t be too careful these days, with so many thieves and joy-riders around.’

And he knew very well that if she had seen his car she would have turned around at once and stayed well away until the coast was clear.

‘And I didn’t want you forewarned and so forearmed as you were when I called the other day.’ Aidan confirmed her thoughts with such deadly accuracy that India’s mouth actually fell open in shock.

‘You knew?’

‘Of course I knew. You forget, my dear India, that I know this house of old, and that I am very well aware of just which bedroom is yours.’

The sensual deepening of his tone, together with the smokiness of his eyes, had hot colour rising in her cheeks at the thought of just how he knew. The memory of those nights, just over a year ago, when—with her parents and Gary away on a visit to relatives—she had invited Aidan to stay at the Grange came back to haunt her. Of course he knew where her room—her bed—was. They had hardly moved out of it, except to fetch food, for the whole of that week.

‘Now, let’s get these inside.’

Taking advantage of the shock that had loosened her grip on the bag, Aidan eased it from her before she could protest. Then he hoisted the other one from the interior of the boot with a lack of effort that forced a reluctant and secret admission of envious admiration from her. She was well aware of just how heavy that bag was, but Aidan’s one-handed ease made a nonsense of her own earlier struggle to get it into the car.

But then, of course, she was only too well aware of the strength of those sinewy, tightly muscled arms. She was also uncomfortably sensitive to the sensual impact of the way their impressive power was shown off to advantage by the short sleeves of the dark chocolate-coloured T-shirt he wore with oatmeal—coloured chinos.

The sun warmed the smoothly tanned skin, and her throat dried at the thought of the times she had felt those arms close around her in the throes of passion, holding her tight against the hard length of his body...

‘India?’

A touch of amusement in the deep voice brought hot colour rushing into her face. She couldn’t avoid the uncomfortable suspicion that Aidan had known just what thoughts had distracted her, the gleam in his eyes intensifying to a positively devilish light as his smile widened wickedly.

‘If we don’t get this food inside, some of the frozen stuff will start to defrost in this heat. And I want...’

‘My father isn’t at home!’

It was all she could think of to say. The idea of Aidan setting foot inside her home ever again sent such a shudder of revulsion down her spine that it was all she could do not to let him see it. As it was, she knew all the blood had drained from her face.

‘Oh, I know,’ Aidan returned easily. ‘That’s why I waited. But I have to admit to being surprised when you turned up. I expected you’d be at work all day.’

‘I don’t have a job.’

India’s voice was tight. When she had first met him she had had a position as a secretary to a local businessman, a job she had been only too glad to give up as soon as she had become engaged.

In the year since her wedding day she had only been able to find temporary work. And lately, just when she needed it most, even that uncertain source of income had dried up. Irrationally, she felt deeply resentful—as if Aidan had been responsible for that misfortune too.

‘Of course not.’ Something in his tone stung sharply. ‘So you’re free all day.’

‘Yes, but you—’

‘I have all the time in the world,’ Aidan put in, obviously anticipating India’s next attempt at persuading him to leave. tom on holiday.’

‘I didn’t know you took them,’ India cut in sharply. ‘I mean, you always were a workaholic when we were...’

‘When we were together?’ he completed smoothly when the realisation of just what she had been about to say froze her tongue. ‘Well, I think you’ll find that quite a few things have changed since then. Now, are you going to open this door or not?’

India devoutly wished that she could do no such thing. But Aidan’s determined stance and the obdurate look in his eyes brought her up hard against the realisation that, unless she was prepared to indulge in an undignified and probably totally pointless struggle for her shopping, she would either have to do as he said or risk losing all their food for the coming week.

One look at those long, tanned fingers clamped firmly around the handles of the bags decided her on the side of discretion rather than valour. With a sigh of resignation she accepted defeat and opened the door.

‘And besides, I didn’t just come to see your father.’

‘Well, don’t try to claim that you wanted to renew our friendship,’ India muttered ungraciously.

‘Friendship?’

One dark eyebrow quirked up in frank scepticism, and his voice held an undertone that she was beyond interpreting.

‘Don’t you think that’s something of an understatement for what we had?’

‘What we had was a lie from start to finish, and it’s over now, gone for good. Dead and buried.’

‘Is that a fact?’

‘It’s the only fact that I know!’ The only one she would ever admit to him, anyway.

All trace of his mocking humour seemed to have evaporated, leaving his face cold and distant, set into harshly brutal lines.

‘You’re surely not claiming that I broke your heart? That I did anything more than cause you some social embarrassment, and perhaps lower your expectations of the future a little?’

‘Broke my heart?’ India repeated, the need for control, to ensure that not even the tiniest suggestion of the truth seeped past her defences, making her tone coldly brittle. ‘No, I’m not claiming that at all.’

If she was to convince him of that fact, she had to do it once and for all.

‘In fact, as I said the other night, I really should be grateful to you. If you hadn’t walked out on me like that, I’d have been trapped in a very unwise and totally unsuitable marriage. Before very long—possibly even by now—we would both have realised our mistake, but would have had to go through the unpleasantness of a divorce in order to get out of it.’

‘Instead of which you find yourself free and available, and perfectly positioned to marry your darling Jim.’

As on the previous occasion, the total lack of any feeling in Aidan’s response brought a flaring pain so violent that she had to bite down hard on her lower lip.

All she could think of was the need to make sure there was no possibility he could doubt her sincerity, and so she pounced on the opening he had offered her. If he wanted to believe she and Jim were a couple, then who was she to stop him?

‘That’s right. Jim has—kept me company...’

She had been about to say ‘comforted me’, but caught herself just in time.

‘Ever since last year. We’ve become very close, and I think our families are expecting an announcement soon.’

‘My congratulations,’ Aidan drawled. ‘I’m sure you’ll be well suited.’

He made the possibility sound like a life sentence rather than a prospect for happiness.

‘Obviously a trainee solicitor is considered a better bet by your father than someone with my background.’

‘Well, Jim’s uncle is an MP, and his grandmother was an earl’s daughter,’ India told him with a terrible sense of hammering nails into an already well-sealed coffin.

‘That’d just about do it,’ Aidan growled. ‘Shall I put this stuff away?’

‘There’s no need.’

It was almost impossible to match the carelessness of his tone with her own, to hide the stab of bitterness his indifference brought.

‘But thanks for carrying them in.’

Automatically she looked towards the door, anticipating that he would take the hint and leave. But Aidan simply shook his head with a calmness that set her teeth on edge.

‘Oh, no, my lovely. I’m not leaving until I’ve had words with your fool of a father.’

To India’s horror, he calmly deposited one of the bags on the table and began to unpack it systematically, putting the various tins and packages in their places with a familiarity that struck at her heart with its bitter memories.

‘You can’t. He’s...out.’

If she had had any hope that her father’s illness might make Aidan hold back, show a little consideration, she would have told him the truth. But this man and Bruce Marchant had always been at daggers drawn. She wouldn’t put it past Aidan to march straight round to the hospital to confront his opponent about whatever matter was on his mind. And, already uneasy about his motives, she quailed inside at the thought of what the result of such a meeting would be on her father’s already frail health.

‘Obviously. So when will he be back?’

‘I can’t say.’

‘Can’t or won’t, Princess?’

‘I don’t know when he’ll be back!’

‘Then I’ll wait until he returns. He can’t stay away all day.’

‘Yes, he can!’ Belated inspiration had struck. ‘He’s gone away for the weekend, and...’ India’s voice faded as Aidan shook his head reprovingly.

‘Nice try, sweetheart, but too late. If you wanted to convince me, you should have come up with that one much earlier. And besides, I saw his car in the garage. Wherever he’s gone it isn’t far.’

He didn’t miss a trick, India thought despairingly. Those keen dark eyes observed every little thing about his surroundings, and the shrewd brain that had made his fortune considered the information, assessing the situation and coming to a swift conclusion. She was beginning to feel like some particularly interesting scientific specimen under observation in a controlled laboratory experiment.

‘Think what you like.’ Her tone acknowledged defeat. ‘But don’t call me sweetheart! I am not your anything, and never will be again!’

‘Well, I have to admit that it isn’t exactly apposite,’ Aidan flung back, putting the last tin m a cupboard and folding the carrier bag with firm, precise movements. ‘You’ve been anything but sweet ever since I arrived.’

‘What did you expect?’ India exploded, unable to believe the gall of the man. ‘After the way you treated me, I’d hardly be likely to throw myself into your arms and kiss you senseless! ’

‘I recall many occasions on which you did just that.’ There was a predatory gleam in the depths of those eyes now. ‘And I remember them as being very enjoyable, for both of us. All the more so because they usually led to—’

‘Well, memories are all you’re going to have!’ India broke in sharply, knowing only too well just what those occasions had led to.

Neither did she need any reminder of how those passionate encounters had felt. Simply thinking of them had raised her pulse rate to racing point, making her breathing unnaturally rapid and rawly uneven.

In the past, a simple kiss of greeting from this man had had the effect of a lighted match laid to a tinder-dry bonfire, making desire flare between them, roaring out of control in seconds.

‘That’s all right by me—for now.’

Aidan’s smile was one that might have been on the face of a hunting tiger as it lay in the sun, lazily watching its prey, knowing that when the time was right it would spring. But right now he couldn’t be bothered, that smile said, and his voice was a sensually indolent purr, threaded through with a dark line of threat.

‘But I have a very good memory. A cup of coffee would be nice,’ he added pointedly, startling India with his abrupt change of mood.

‘Don’t you have anything better to do?’

‘Frankly, no.’

The blunt declaration left no room for argument, and India could only shrug her shoulders resignedly as she moved to fill the kettle.

‘Why do you want to see my father anyway?’ She tried to make it sound casual, even if it was the furthest thing from the way she was feeling.

‘He owes me money.’

You and a hundred others. India barely bit back the despondent comment in time, but Aidan had caught something of her change in expression.

‘You don’t seem surprised.’

‘I’m not.’

If there was one thing that made her father’s illness even more difficult to bear, it was the discovery of the mountain of debts he had run up, unknown to anyone else.

It seemed that no sooner had the ambulance taken him to hospital than all sorts of demanding creditors had crawled out of the woodwork. There had also been letters from the bank, demanding that Bruce Marchant paid off some of his excessively large overdraft, not to mention the instalments on a loan he had taken out and on which he was behind with payment.

‘I’m just surprised that he borrowed anything from you.’

The last word was emphasised by the way that she slammed the mug of coffee down onto the table in front of him.

‘Tainted money, hmm?’ Aidan murmured cynically. ‘Not quite the sort of thing that blue-bloods like you want to soil their hands with.’

‘Oh, now you’re being ridiculous! That wasn’t the only thing that worried my father. He was concerned by the stories of your wild youth, run-ins with the police.’

‘The reports in the papers were exaggerated. I admit I was no saint—but then, is anyone when they’re an adolescent?’

‘You haven’t been a teenager for over fifteen years! Or are you claiming that the men and women—particularly the women—you’ve used and discarded on your way to the top are just a figment of the tabloids’ imagination too?’

‘And are you claiming that your parents—your father at least—never believed that their sort of inherited wealth was far superior to money earned by hard work?’

He hadn’t answered the question, India realised. But then, did he really have to? Was she really fool enough to think he might actually care about the beauties with whom his name had been linked, usually so briefly, in the past?

‘In our case, “wealth” is a far from accurate term! For as long as I can remember, and certainly since my grandfather’s death embroiled us in the problems of death duties, we’ve existed in a form of genteel poverty where appearance barely papered over the cracks. If you’d looked underneath, you’d have seen there was nothing of any substance...’

‘Which is where I came in.’

‘You know I never shared my father’s opinions on—’

‘No—you didn’t care where the money came from, so long as there was plenty of it and it took you out of that “genteel poverty” you so hated,’ Aidan inserted in a voice that seemed to freeze the air around them, making it difficult to breathe.

Suddenly it was as if she had slipped back in time, seeing herself little more than a year ago at that party that had started it all.

If it hadn’t been for Rob, she wouldn’t have felt that way in the first place. Rob—the man she had been seeing for the past few months, and with whom she had believed herself more than halfway in love. She had been so convinced of her feelings that only the week before the party she had finally given in to his persistent pressure and slept with him—her own first experience of physical lovemaking.

If the experience hadn’t been everything she had hoped for, and certainly not all that the books she had read had led her to expect, she had told herself that it was only the result of inexperience. Time and commitment could only make things better—or so she’d believed.

And so she had been devastated when only a day or so later Rob had brusquely, and with brutal indifference to her feelings, broken off the relationship.

In an attempt to drown her sorrows, India had downed a couple of glasses of wine with more haste than she was used to. Her feelings of hurt pride and loss had been made even worse by the appearance of Rob himself at the party, with another woman on his arm.

‘His boss’s daughter, no less!’ she complained to her friends, hiding her hurt behind a veil of contempt as she went on, ‘But I mean—just look at her! That hair isn’t natural for a start. And, well, to call her a bimbo would be an insult to all self-respecting airheads. What on earth can he see in her?’

‘Face it,’ Rose said, her tone one of knowing cynicism, ‘What he really sees when he looks at Miss Bannister is a private income of X thousand a year and an easy way into Daddy’s good books—not to mention, if he plays his cards right, the prospect of a very comfortable future. Your family may have a high society name, Indy, and the family tree to go with it—but you haven’t got the disposable income men like Rob look for.’

‘And what income the Marchants do have is taken up by that crumbling old pile my father insists on calling the ancestral home!’ India agreed. ‘It’s going to need a new roof soon, and there’s not enough in the bank to fund it.’

‘Not a problem dear Miss Bannister is likely to have to concern herself with,’ Jane put in with a nod towards the dance floor, where the blonde was draped all over Rob. ‘That little slip of nothing she’s wearing is fresh from the Paris catwalks, and I’ll bet that what Daddy paid for it would go a long way towards your new roof. Our high street couture just can’t compete.’

‘High street!’ India’s laugh was wry. ‘You must be joking. I made this myself, from one of Mum’s old evening dresses, cut down and restyled.’

Another glance towards Rob and his attentive companion twisted the knife deep inside her heart.

‘Oh, God, I’m sick and tired of genteel poverty! I think it’s high time I did something about it. You just watch me! I’m going to find myself a wealthy husband, one who can keep me in the manner to which I have every intention of becoming accustomed. Then I can just sit back and enjoy myself, not have to worry about anything.’

‘Well, you couldn’t do better than to start here, tonight,’ her friend had told her. ‘There must be the cream of the society, artistic and business worlds right here under one roof. You could take your pick.’

‘I intend to!’

Buoyed up by the wine, India hadn’t cared if her voice carried.

‘And I don’t plan on waiting for him to come to me. In fact, the very next rich man who walks through that door will find himself on the receiving end of such a campaign of seduction and enticement that he won’t be able to resist me. I’ll bet you anything you like that I’ll have his ring on my finger before he knows what’s hit him—three months at most, start to finish!’

‘That was how you saw it, wasn’t it?’ Aidan’s cold voice broke into her memories now. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong.’

‘I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said it was all a joke?’ she managed, not meeting his eyes.

‘In that case, the joke was on you,’ Aidan returned harshly, his steely eyes and the tightness of the muscles in his face driving home the message of his tone.

‘I didn’t know you were listening.’

‘No?’ Aidan laughed nastily. ‘You really slipped up there, didn’t you, darling? You must have thought you were home and dry. As ordered, one extremely wealthy man who seemed to fall straight into your carefully baited trap.’

That laugh was worse the second time around, a grim travesty of humour that made India wince away in distress.

‘What a pity that you hadn’t realised that the window behind you was open when you hatched your grasping little plot, and that it carried every word of your conversation out to where I had just arrived at the front door. As they say, forewarned is forearmed. You should have seen your face. You looked as if all your Christmases had come at once and you’d got exactly what you asked Santa for.’

‘Well, you got what you wanted too!’

Unable to bear his goading any longer, India needed to lash out at him, verbally at least, make him feel a little of her inner distress. The fact that her own conscience wasn’t exactly comfortable with the events he was making her remember only made matters worse.

‘And what was that?’

His voice was freezing again, and India shivered in nervous response

‘You got me! You wanted my body—you made that only too plain. You wanted me in your bed, nothing more, nothing less, so you went along with my “grasping little plot” because it suited you. Or are you going to try and deny that now?’

Aidan’s emphatic, silent shake of his head, the dark eyes fixed disturbingly on her face, drove that jagged knife in a few inches deeper, twisting it viciously in the wound.

‘So you wanted sex. You wanted to screw me...’

She didn’t care how crude she sounded, how harsh and vicious her tone had become. Her emotions felt crude. She felt soiled, dirty, used and discarded.

‘And, boy, did you do that! You took what you wanted for as long as you wanted, promising marriage and happy ever after just to keep me sweet! But then, when you’d had enough, when you grew tired...’

‘Damn you!’

India’s voice failed her suddenly, the words disintegrating in her throat as Aidan flung the savage imprecation at her, getting to his feet in a violent movement, his chair scraping back over the floor with a harsh, ugly sound.

‘Damn you to hell, Princess! If it’s truth time, then it’s that for both of us,’ he declared, coming round the table towards her, his face set in an expression that had her shrinking away fearfully, reading danger in his look.