Betrayed. Part 4

Matthew hesitated, and for one awful moment she thought he was going to touch her again. And she didn't know how she would react if he did. Drop the cups probably, she thought unsteadily, and that would be the least of her worries.

But the problem didn't arise. Matthew's hesitation was only momentary. Then, he inclined his head and stepped aside, saying, as he did so, 'What are you going to do today?'

'Today?' Olivia carried the dishes to the sink, and turned on the taps, giving herself time to absorb his question. 'Um"I don't know,' she said nervously, wishing he would go. 'Whatever's necessary, I suppose. There must be something I can do. I'm not completely helpless.'

'Did I say you were?'

Matthew came to rest his hips against the drainer beside her, and Olivia's temperature sky-rocketed. Dear G.o.d, she thought, after the things he had said to her the day before, she hadn't expected to see him again. Not alone, anyway. She would probably have seen him at the funeral, she conceded, but surely then he would be with his wife. His wife...

'Where"er"where's Helen?' she asked, ignoring his question, and wishing either her mother, or Sara, or even Mrs Davis, would appear. Why was it that when you needed someone most they never came?

'I don't know.' Matthew answered her without rancour. Then, without missing a beat, 'Who's been saying you're helpless?'

'Oh, Matt! Olivia couldn't sustain the prolonged drain upon her emotional resources and, leaving the dishes, she wiped her hands on a teacloth and moved away. Then, keeping her back to him, she lifted her hands and gripped the back of her neck, before saying painfully, 'What are you doing here, Matt? I thought we had nothing to say to one another!'

'Did I say that?'

'Stop asking questions you know the answers to,' she exclaimed frustratedly, and she heard the sigh he gave, before hurrying on, I"I want you to go, Matt. I don't think it's a good idea for us to see one another again.'

'Why not?'

His voice was low and husky, its rich timbre overlaid by a veneer of coolness, but s.e.xy none the less. G.o.d, it reminded her of the way he had spoken to her when he was making love to her, she thought unsteadily, his voice like thick velvet stroking her senses, while his hands...

But it was wrong, she flayed herself desperately. She had to stop thinking of Matthew in those terms. And if she couldn't tell him the real reason, she could at least remind him of his responsibilities.

'Because you're married,' she said, schooling her features as she turned to face him. And then, realising how revealing the silk vest was, she crossed her hands over her chest. 'I"I think you should go.'

'What if I don't want to?' he countered, using his hands to propel himself away from the drainer, and coming towards her, and Olivia put out a warning hand.

'Matt---'

'Oh, Matt, it's you!'

Olivia had never been so relieved to hear the sound of her mother's voice before. Felicity Stoner wheeled herself into the kitchen from the garden, helped only minimally by her younger daughter, and Matthew was obliged to turn towards her. His dark face took on an expression of warm approval, and watching him Olivia wondered at his capacity for deceit. Was she responsible for that, too, or was she only fooling herself by thinking he was masking his real feelings?

'h.e.l.lo, Fliss,' he said, bending to give her mother kiss on the cheek. 'How are you?' He gave her a critical look. 'You're looking good.'

Olivia's mother responded predictably, her pale cheeks colouring at the easy compliment. 'I'm sure I look every one of my fifty-odd years,' she retorted, patting his hand affectionately.

'I won't say exactly how many odd years I'd rather not remember I'm getting old.'

'Well, you don't look a day over forty,' Matthew a.s.sured her, his smile shifting to include the woman behind the wheelchair in its warmth. 'How are you, Sara? When's the new arrival due?'

'At the end of September.' Sara blossomed under his scrutiny, and Olivia felt a cold hand squeeze her stomach If only she had been the Stoners' younger daughter, she thought enviously. She and Matthew---- 'Have you made Matt some coffee, Olivia?' her mother was asking now, and, forcing herself to concentrate on the present and not the past, she ruefully shook her head.

'No.'

'No?' Mrs Stoner looked impatient. 'Oh, Olivia, why not? Do you want him to think we're totally inhospitable?'

'No, I----'

'I don't think Liv cares what I think,' remarked Matthew lazily, though when he looked in Olivia's direction his eyes were anything but lazy. They glittered with a disturbing defiance, and she was very much afraid she was going to regret crossing swords with him.

'Oh, Matt, I'm sure that's not true,' exclaimed Mrs Stoner, but the look she cast at her elder daughter was anxious. 'Olivia"you haven't been having words with Matt, have you? I hoped"well, after all these years, I hoped you two might be friends!'

'Oh, Mum----'

Olivia felt as if she was being torn to pieces. Surely her mother must know what she was asking, and yet she could sit there, looking so incredibly innocent, when if it hadn't been for her she and Matthew might have been married now...

'We are friends.' For reasons best known to himself, Matthew chose to relieve Olivia's anguish, and she gazed at him helplessly as he gave her a teasing smile. But the teasing didn't reach his eyes, she noticed. They were just as challenging; just as full of defiance.

'Are you?'

Mrs Stoner did not look totally convinced, but, as usual with her, she chose not to pursue it. Was that the way her mother had lived with herself all these years? Olivia wondered. By deluding herself that what was blatantly obvious was not necessarily the way it was?

Olivia turned away to put on the kettle, and spoon several measures of the aromatic grains into the coffee-filter. She supposed she should feel angry with her mother, but she never had. How could you blame someone who had suffered so much pain in her life already? If Felicity Stoner had deluded herself that Olivia's leaving home had had nothing to do with her own betrayal, then so be it. Some might say she had paid in other ways for what might have been a single indiscretion.

'So, what are you doing here, Matt?' Mrs Stoner was asking now, and Olivia listened tensely for his reply. After all, she didn't even know where he lived any more, or how he spent his time.

'Well, as a matter of fact, I came to see if Liv would like to come to Abbot's Norton with me,' he said, causing Olivia to spill coffee grains all over the drainer. 'I've got to see Peabody at the bank, and buy a couple of plugs for Aldridge. One of the tractors started playing up yesterday, and I promised I'd call in at Fennings, while I was in town.'

'I see.' Felicity Stoner cast a doubtful glance at her daughter's determinedly unyielding back. 'How kind of you! Well"I'm sure Olivia would appreciate the chance to reacquaint herself with all her old haunts. I mean, there've been quite a lot of changes, haven't there? Not least that indoor shopping mall they've built, where the old bus station used to be----'

It is kind of you, Matt, but I can't go,' said Olivia abruptly, realising she was the only one likely to make a stand on her behalf. She swung round, with the coffeepot in her hand, her face schooled into an expression of polite regret. 'I"er"I only arrived yesterday, as you know, and I haven't really had a chance yet to be with the family. There were so many people here when I arrived, and tomorrow it's the funeral, and----'

'But you're not leaving after the funeral, are you, darling?' her mother protested artlessly, and Olivia heard Matthew's sudden intake of breath. 'I know your grandmother's death has been a great shock to all of us, and I'm sure you feel as if you ought to stay here and do what you can, but it's really not necessary.

You'd be amazed how much I can do, and there's Mrs Davis, and Sara, of course.' She gave her younger daughter a warm smile. 'I think it would be altogether better if you went with Matt: got some fresh air; made an effort to catch up on old times. We can manage. And after the funeral's over, we'll have plenty of time to"talk.'

Olivia wondered if she only imagined her mother's hesitation before the word 'talk', but now was not the time to consider it.

Taking a steadying breath, her gaze flickered briefly over Matthew's dark, enigmatic face, before settling on the coffee-pot she was holding. 'And what if I don't want to go?' she asked, and she could hear the rising note of anxiety in her voice. 'Perhaps"

perhaps" Helen"might like to go with"with her husband.' She lifted her head and looked at him. 'Where did you say Helen was, Matt? I'm afraid I can't remember.'

If she had thought to disconcert him, she was wrong, although she sensed he was not pleased by her enquiry. Even her mother looked a little discomfited now, but it was Sara, seated rather inelegantly at the kitchen table, who said carelessly, 'Haven't you told Livvy about Helen, Matt?' She arched her brows sardonically. 'Helen spends all her time with her precious horses,' she added, for her sister's benefit. 'You remember the Berrenger Stables, don't you, Livvy? Since her father died, Helen practically runs the place single-handed.'

Olivia exchanged a look with Matthew. 'Helen's father's dead?' she asked in surprise. To her recollection, Conrad Berrenger had been younger than her father.

'Yes.' Matthew's response was curt, but Sara was evidently relishing holding centre stage.

'He was killed, when he was out hunting,' she exclaimed, as Felicity Stoner made a sound of protest, it caused quite a scandal. The coroner said it was accidental death, but the rumours were flying around that he was in debt up to----'

'I think that will do, Sara.' Mrs Stoner's usually placid features were agitated now, but her younger daughter only arched her brows expressively.

'Well, I'm sorry, but it's only what people said at the time,' she protested. 'I mean, everyone thought he would have to sell, didn't they, Matt?' she added, appealing to him, and Matt said, 'Perhaps so,' in a flat, dispa.s.sionate voice.

'Sara, it's not your business!' exclaimed Mrs Stoner, her cheeks pink with embarra.s.sment, her hands tight around the arms of her chair. 'I don't know what Matt must be thinking, listening to you discussing his private affairs like this!' She expelled her breath noisily, before continuing, 'And Olivia, are you going to make some coffee, or aren't you? You're standing there holding that jug as if you didn't know what to do with it!'

Olivia pulled herself together with an effort, and turned to put the coffee-pot under the filter. She had been acting as if she'd lost the use of her limbs, she thought ruefully, but in spite of all the years that had pa.s.sed since she went away her mother could still exercise a daunting authority. Nevertheless, Sara's revelations about the Berrengers had aroused her curiosity Conrad Berrenger had been such a strong, active man and an excellent rider. It was hard to believe he had died in such circ.u.mstances.

Yet the alternative was equally unpalatable. Although her sister hadn't actually put the rumour into words, her meaning had been clear enough Helen's father had obviously been suspected of having committed suicide, leaving, no doubt, a hefty insurance policy to settle all his debts.

'I'm sorry, Matt,' her mother was apologising now but Matthew merely gave a careless shrug of his shoulder.

It's not important,' he said, clearly wishing they could change the conversation, it's not as if it's news, Fliss. And Liv was bound to hear the gossip sooner or later.'

'Even so----' Felicity Stoner shook her head, I still say Sara shouldn't have said what she did.' She looked at her younger daughter reprovingly, if this is what having a baby does for you, I'm surprised Jeff allows you to stay on the base!'

'Oh, Mum!' Sara pulled a face. 'I'm not a child, you know.

And you heard what Matt said"Livvy was bound to hear about the Berrengers from someone.'

'Matt was only being polite,' retorted her mother, propelling her wheelchair to the table, and tapping her nails against the wood. 'Now, where are those peas we picked earlier? I'll sh.e.l.l them, while Olivia makes the coffee.'

Olivia, meanwhile, couldn't make up her mind whether it was Sara or their mother who had made the situation so uncomfortable. Sara probably shouldn't have said anything, it was true, but if Mrs Stoner hadn't chosen to take her up on it their present state of antagonism with one another would not have been so obvious.

Looking at Matthew, she felt a sudden"and unwelcome"rush of compa.s.sion. It wasn't as if he needed her sympathy, she told herself, trying to dismiss the feeling out of hand. But the fact remained, she did feel some affiliation with him, and when he caught her eyes upon him she didn't look away.

Of course, eventually, she had to. The kettle was boiling, and needed attention, and she didn't trust Sara not to notice what was going on and make her own a.s.sessment about it. Not that anything was going on, she chided herself severely. For a few moments, she and Matthew had looked at one another without animosity, that was all. And wasn't that what she should be striving for? A casual relationship with him, without any s.e.xual undertones.

'Are you coming to town?' he asked abruptly, as Olivia turned to set cups and saucers, cream and sugar, on the table. And, before she could think of a single reason why not, her mother b.u.t.ted in.

'Of course she is,' she said, taking the coffee-pot from her daughter's unresisting fingers, and filling one of the generously sized cups. 'There's nothing for her to do here, Matt. We're all just marking time until tomorrow. It'll be easier on all of us, when Gran is laid to rest. Then we can get on with our own lives, instead of thinking about the past.'

Olivia stiffened. 'Mum---'

'Drink your coffee, dear,' directed Mrs Stoner imperturbably, pushing the cups across the table. 'There you are, Matt. Would you like a biscuit? Olivia wouldn't think to offer you one. I've noticed she hardly eats enough to keep a fly alive.'

Matthew took the cup of coffee, but he refused one of the home-baked ginger creams Mrs Stoner brought from the pantry.

'This is fine,' he said, his eyes on her elder daughter as if waiting for her response. And, realising it was going to be simpler just to let her mother have her way, Olivia sighed.

'All right,' she answered. 'I'll go with you. And perhaps Sara would like to come, too.'

Matthew's eyes darkened at this suggestion, but once again it was Olivia's mother who had the last word. 'Oh, I don't think so, dear,' she said, before her younger daughter could respond to the invitation. 'I don't think Matt would appreciate being seen about Abbot's Norton with a pregnant woman in tow. I mean,' she added disarmingly, treating Sara to a beguiling smile, 'I don't have to tell you how people talk, do I? Particularly after what you said about the Berrengers.'

CHAPTER FIVE.

Abbot's Norton was fairly quiet on this late August morning.

On market days, the small town brimmed with people, and it was scarcely possible to move along its narrow, crowded streets. But today it was easy to drive into the market place, easy to find somewhere to park. Which was just as well, thought Olivia. The dark green Range Rover Matthew was driving wouldn't fit into the smallest of s.p.a.ces.

The journey from Lower Mychett had been accomplished in a little over twenty minutes. Although it was only fifteen miles, the roads were narrow, and at this time of the year there were a lot of tractors clogging the lanes, loaded down with hay and other silage.

They hadn't talked much on the way. In keeping with her determination to keep her relationship with Matthew as casual as possible, Olivia had made some superficial comments about harvesting, and the weather, but nothing of a controversial nature. And Matthew had responded in kind, keeping his attention firmly fixed on the road ahead.

But now, with the Range Rover securely lodged in the new multi-storey car park, they were both free to follow their own pursuits, and, looping the strap of her handbag over one shoulder, Olivia gave her escort what she hoped was a bracing smile.

'Well,' she said, as they emerged from the stairwell into the sunlight, 'what time shall we meet to go back?'

'Meet?' As she half turned away to look up and down Broad Street, Matthew caught her arm. 'What do you mean" meet?' he asked, his grey eyes narrowed and intense. 'You're coming with me.'

'Oh, I don't think so.' Olivia looked pointedly down at his hand on her arm, and couldn't suppress a shiver. His skin was so dark against her fairer flesh, and she had a sudden image of how they had looked, naked together... Dear G.o.d! She swallowed convulsively. Why did she have to think of that now?

'Well, I think so,' said Matthew, but, meeting her tight-lipped gaze, he released her arm. 'I thought you could come with me to the bank, and then we can have some lunch together----'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Because---' Olivia took a deep breath, searching for a suitable excuse, and found one. 'Well"because, as my mother said, people talk. How do you think it will look if you and I are seen having lunch together?'

'I don't particularly care,' replied Matthew, in a low, charged tone, and Olivia took an involuntary step back from him.

'Well"well, I do,' she said, shocked by his vehemence.

'I"don't understand. Yesterday, you said we couldn't be friends----'

'Friends!' Matthew used the word like a curse. 'Who said anything about being friends? The way I feel about you has nothing to do with friendship!'

'Matt----'

She would have turned away again, but he stepped in front of her, imprisoning her against the wall of the car park, with one hand at either side of her head, I mean it,' he said, though there was no trace of warmth in his face. 'I actually find I can't keep away from you, isn't that a laugh? When I woke up this morning, all I could think about was coming over to the farm to see you.'

'Oh, Matt---'

Olivia turned her head aside, afraid to look into his eyes, in case he saw something in hers she didn't want him to see.

Besides, she was uneasily aware of how dangerous her present situation was. She had only to look up at him, only to raise herself a few inches, to touch his mouth with hers. And the awful need to do so was tearing her apart.

Along the street, people were going about their daily lives, unaware of the aching tumult in hers. Women wheeling prams; couples with young children; old people, enjoying the uncharacteristically long dry spell; all went by without more than a pa.s.sing glance. And, fortunately, none of them recognised Matthew, she thought unsteadily. Because all his attention was concentrated on her, and everyone knew that Matthew Ryan was married to someone else...

'What's the matter?' he demanded now, his warm breath fanning her cheek. 'Don't pretend it doesn't give you a kick, knowing you've got me over a barrel! How does it feel to know someone wants you so badly that they're prepared to make a fool of themselves all over again?'

Olivia couldn't take any more. Before he realised what she was going to do, she ducked under his arm, and hurried off along Broad Street. Then, realising he was following her, she darted into a women's clothes shop. It was comparatively easy to hide herself among the many racks of skirts and dresses, and, just to rea.s.sure the store detective that she wasn't a shoplifter, she carried a pair of trousers into the fitting-room.

The trousers didn't fit, but then she had hardly expected them to. She had just picked them haphazardly off the rail, and they were several sizes too large. She felt a bit of a fool, trying them on, but with other eyes watching her she felt obliged to make the effort. After all, she had probably drawn suspicion to herself by carrying them into the changing-room in the first place. Still, she had done nothing wrong, so there was really no need for her to feel so guilty.

Depositing the cotton trousers on the rejection rail, she walked outside again with a feeling of relief. It was good to get out into the sunshine, and away from the drumming beat of the music that had filled the shop. But now she would have to find the bus station, or a taxi rank, to arrange her transportation back to Lower Mychett. And preferably before Matthew went back, and told everyone he had lost her.