FROM HER BEDROOM window Livvy could see down into the yard where Richard was talking to Monsieur Dubois. The farmer was talking volubly, gesticulating towards the sky and then shrugging his shoulders before going back to his truck.
Richard watched him go before turning round and walking back towards the house.
As she watched him, Livvy felt the desolation of self-knowledge wash over her.
It wasn’t just that she was sexually responsive to him. She loved him. That was why his attitude towards her sex didn’t just incite her to defensive anger, but made her ache with pain as well. That was why she wanted so desperately to hear him say something, anything which would allow her to believe that beneath his cynicism there were still emotions…feelings, needs.
How could she have fallen in love with him? She had always thought of herself as someone who had too much self-regard, too much self-esteem, too much common sense to be drawn into such a potentially destructive situation.
Even if he had returned her feelings. Returned them? Now she was being ridiculous, entering the realms of total fantasy.
He didn’t love her. He couldn’t love her. He despised her, disliked her…and desired her…
She held her breath as he stood still and looked up towards her bedroom window. Her heart turned over inside her chest.
Yes, there was no doubt at all. She loved him.
She heard him coming upstairs, his footsteps hesitating and then stopping outside her bedroom door. He knocked on it and called her name. Reluctantly, she went to open it.
‘That was Monsieur Dubois,’ he told her unnecessarily. ‘He wanted to warn us about the weather. Apparently bad storms have been forecast and there could be some flooding.’
‘But we’re too far away from the river here, surely, for it to affect us?’ Livvy protested.
‘It wasn’t the river he was bothered about. It was the lane. It seems that at one time it must have been the bed of a stream. The stream long ago ceased to exist but during heavy storms the lane acts as a natural channel for any flood water and becomes waterlogged. He said something about a tractor…’
‘Oh, that must have been the one he wanted Gale to buy. She thought he was trying to palm it off on her and refused.’
She was keeping as much distance between them as she could. She couldn’t look at him without remembering how it had felt to be in his arms and how much she had wanted to go on being there…how much she had wanted him.
‘We have to talk.’
The quiet words caught her off guard. She looked at him and then flushed, turning quickly away.
‘I don’t…there isn’t…’
‘We’re adults, not teenagers,’ he told her, overruling her stammered denials. ‘It’s pointless either of us pretending that we don’t know what’s happening between us.’
Livvy held her breath. Her heart felt as though it had stopped beating, as emotion, shock and hope choked her.
Could she have been wrong after all? Could he actually share what she was feeling? Could he actually love her as she loved him?
She could feel herself starting to tremble, her heart thudding frantically against her ribs as she waited for him to continue.
‘Neither of us can deny that there’s a certain very strong physical attraction between us—even though it might be something that neither of us wants.’
Livvy felt physically sick. How could she have been so stupid, so self-deluding? Of course he didn’t love her, and from what he was saying it was obvious that emotions were the last thing on his mind.
‘As I said, we’d be foolish to pretend any different; to ignore what’s happening.’
Livvy lifted her chin, her pride smarting from the blow he had just delivered.
‘If this is some ploy to persuade me to go to bed with you—’ she began, but he wouldn’t let her finish.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he told her curtly. ‘What I want to do is to make sure that both of us are on our guard to ensure that that is exactly what does not happen.
‘I’d be lying if I tried to deny the sexual chemistry that’s developed between us, but, logically, giving in to it will only lead to complications which neither of us can really want.’
Livvy’s face flushed. He was making her feel worse, not better. What kind of man was he, to be able to say openly that he wanted her one minute and then to tell her the next that he wasn’t going to do anything about it?
An honest and responsible one, her conscience suggested, but her sense of rejection, coupled with the knowledge of her love, was too strong to allow her to listen to it.
‘Your sexual urges might be so strong that you feel you can’t exert control over them,’ she told him coldly. ‘But I assure you that mine are not.’
‘No?’ he challenged softly. ‘Then what was all that about downstairs in the kitchen just now? If Monsieur Dubois hadn’t arrived when he did, you know full well I could have had you right there and then, and it wouldn’t have mattered a damn if I’d taken you across the kitchen table—to either of us,’ he added thickly as the flush which had stung Livvy’s face earlier became a searing burn of shocked heat.
Shocked, not just because of what he had said, nor the graphic picture he had drawn for her, but because of her own body’s reaction to his words, that sudden, fierce aching pulsing low down in her body which made her want to turn away from him to conceal herself, not just from his eyes but from her own awareness as well.
‘As I’ve just said,’ he repeated, ‘both of us are too intelligent to pretend it isn’t happening, and too adult not to acknowledge the danger.
‘Promiscuity and sexual greed are not labels I want to hang round my neck…’
‘Meaning that you think I do?’ Livvy challenged.
Suddenly she was furiously angry, and not just with him but with herself as well. Surely she had the strength of character to recognise how pointless and self-destructive it would be to get any further involved with him?
How much further involved could she be, though? Loving him…
She wasn’t going to think about that now. She was going to concentrate instead on denying what he had just said.
‘After all, we both know your opinion of me, don’t we?’ she demanded bitingly. ‘I’m surprised that you’re prepared to admit to wanting me. Wouldn’t it be more in character for you to blame me, to accuse me of trying to seduce you?’
‘I wish I could,’ he told her flatly. ‘At least that way…’
Livvy frowned. Why wasn’t he making use of the opportunity she had given him to underline his original condemnation of her? She wanted him to, she acknowledged fiercely, needed him to do so to help her reinforce the wall she was trying to erect between her feelings and what she knew to be reality. The more he showed himself to her as a man it ought to be impossible for her to love, surely the easier it would be for her to get over her ridiculous feelings for him?
‘If things continue as they are,’ he was telling her, ‘inevitably we are going to end up in bed together. It’s an explosively dangerous situation, but no matter how good the sex between us might be, we both know…’
Livvy couldn’t bear to listen to any more.
‘If you’re so worried about what might happen, the solution is obvious, isn’t it…?’
He looked at her. ‘Is it?’
‘Yes. You must leave. That way there won’t be any temptation…any problem…any danger.’
‘I must leave?’
‘Yes,’ Livvy persisted stubbornly. ‘I was here first and besides, I promised Gale…’ She stopped abruptly.
His comment surprised her. ‘She needs someone to be,’ she told him stiffly. ‘It ought to be George…if he was loyal to her—’
‘Or she to him,’ Richard interrupted her quietly.
The way he was looking at her made her heart ache with love and pain. ‘I’m not leaving,’ she told him shakily. ‘You’re the one who seems to think…who feels…’ She stumbled over the words, unable to find the right ones to express what she wanted to say, and angry with herself for her confusion.
‘And you don’t agree with me, is that it? Any man, every man could…’
‘Why are men always so vain, so obsessed with the power of their sexuality and women’s vulnerability to it?’ Livvy demanded suddenly, hating him and herself for what he was obviously thinking, for what she by her own actions had allowed him to think: that she found him so sexually desirable that she was totally unable to resist him. ‘When you first arrived you couldn’t wait to tell me that you knew my type, that you considered I was the kind of woman who used sex to barter with, who had so little respect for herself that virtually any man…But now it’s different…now suddenly it’s you who’s responsible for arousing my dangerous sexual desires. Do you really, honestly think you’re so irresistible? Well, let me tell you, you’re not.’
The look he gave her made her eyes burn with shamed tears. He was looking at her as though she had disappointed him, let him down. Didn’t he understand that she had had to do it to protect herself…to protect them both?
‘You know that isn’t what I meant at all,’ he told her levelly. ‘I was wrong in my initial assessment of you, I acknowledge that. It seems I was also wrong to believe that we could talk to one another as two adults, that we both had the maturity to be open and responsible with one another…’
He was walking away from her, opening her door and then quietly closing it again behind him.
She’d had to do it, Livvy told herself. She had had no option. So why was she standing here crying, painful, aching tears welling up in her eyes and sliding helplessly down her face? Why had her victory over him left a sour, bitter taste in her mouth?
Was it never going to stop raining? Livvy stared glumly towards the window.
The storm Monsieur Dubois had forecast had broken in the early hours of the morning, the day after her confrontation with Richard. Since then they had each kept their distance from one another, avoiding one another as much as possible. This morning Livvy had hoped to go out, but with the rain so heavy that she couldn’t even see across the yard it was pointless even trying to think of doing any sightseeing. She was working upstairs in her room; the kitchen was somewhere she avoided as much as she possibly could do now.
She heard the phone ring and tensed. Richard was downstairs and would answer it. If it was Gale…but apparently it wasn’t, because there was no foot on the stairs, no voice saying that the call was for her.
She bent her head back over her work and then frowned.
Ten minutes later, when she heard the sound of the BMW’s engine being started, she got up and hurried over to the window. Richard was going out. Where on earth to, in weather like this? Was it something to do with the phone call he had just received?
For some reason his absence from the house, instead of helping her to relax, made her feel more uneasy and on edge.
Outside it was murky, no more than half-light, the rain still a heavy, relentless downpour. The cat had taken up almost permanent occupation by the range. It got up and wound itself between Livvy’s legs while she made herself a hot drink.
Livvy glanced across at the phone. Perhaps while Richard was out she ought to ring Gale and find out if she had spoken properly to George yet.
She dialled her cousin’s number. Roderick answered the phone. He had a cold, he told her, and he was off school. Livvy sympathised and waited for him to fetch Gale.
‘Have you managed to speak to George yet?’ she asked her cousin when she came to the phone.
‘No. It’s impossible,’ Gale told her fretfully. ‘He’s still in Japan, out in some remote region where it’s impossible to get in touch with him, apparently. The whole situation is ridiculous, Livvy. He’s my husband and yet I don’t know where he is, or how I can get in touch with him. I haven’t seen him for over three weeks. I rang Robert Forrest this morning. Or at least, I tried to. According to his secretary he wasn’t there, but she promised she would ask him to ring me.’
‘Do you think it’s wise tackling him?’ Livvy asked her. ‘I mean, he is George’s boss.’
‘Exactly. And besides, how else am I supposed to get in touch with George? I’ve tried speaking to his secretary, but she’s useless. Worse than the one he had before and she was pretty hopeless. I told George when he took her on. It was obvious what type she was, although George insisted that her qualifications were excellent. I thought at one time that he might…Well, she was that kind of woman, you know. And they do say that middle-aged men are prone to…But when Robert Forrest took over, she left and this new girl started working for George. I’ve met her and she’s pleasant enough, a world away from the other one, who had vamp written all over her.
‘Look, Livvy, I mustn’t stay on the phone too long. I’m waiting for Robert Forrest to come back to me…Is he still there, by the way—Richard whatsit?’
‘Yes,’ Livvy told her. ‘Gale, you will let me know just as soon as you have talked to George, won’t you? Only it’s beginning to be a bit of a strain, staying here, and…’
‘Livvy, you mustn’t leave. You promised me that you wouldn’t…’
Livvy sighed.
‘You promised me,’ Gale reiterated.
‘Yes, it’s all right. I’ll stay,’ Livvy assured her.
Five o’clock came and then six. It was almost dark and still there was no sign of Richard’s returning.
Make the most of it, Livvy told herself as she made herself something to eat. You’re much better off without him here. After all, that’s why you want to leave here, isn’t it? Because you know how vulnerable you are.
Vulnerable. What had happened to her went way, way beyond that. She could only hope that once she got back to the routine of her normal life she would feel differently. And stop loving him? Was it possible for such a miracle to occur?
She shivered a little and then tensed as she heard a noise outside. It wasn’t the noise her ears had been straining for for the last couple of hours, the sound made by a car engine. It hadn’t been as definite and audible as that. It had sounded more like someone moving around outside.
She got up and went to the door, opening it hesitantly and then freezing as she saw the apparition walking towards her.
It couldn’t be Richard, and yet she recognised that it was, his hair plastered to his skull by the force of the rain, his clothes similarly plastered to his body. There was mud all down one side of him and she could see a tear in his jeans.
‘What is it…what’s happened?’ she asked him anxiously, forgetting their differences as she hurried towards him.
He was limping slightly and, now that she was close to him, she could see a cut on his cheek, still oozing blood, the skin around it already discoloured.
‘It’s the lane,’ he told her tersely. ‘It’s turned into a quagmire. I swerved to miss a bird—idiotic thing to do—and ended up in the ditch. I tried to move the car but there’s no way it can be shifted without a tow. Fortunately it hasn’t blocked the lane. I’ll give Monsieur Dubois a ring in the morning.’
‘So he was right about the tractor,’ Livvy murmured. ‘You’ve hurt yourself,’ she added. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Nothing that a hot shower won’t cure,’ he told her, grimacing as he followed her inside. ‘It’s just as well your cousin hasn’t refurnished this place yet. If she had, there’s no way I could go upstairs in this state.’
Livvy could see what he meant. He was already dripping rainwater and mud on to the kitchen floor, and, although he had claimed that he wasn’t hurt, the rawness of the gash on his face made her wince sensitively for him.
‘Mmm…if Gale were here she’d make you strip off in the kitchen.’
He gave her a brooding look, his voice harsh as he demanded, ‘I don’t think in the circumstances that that would be a good idea, do you?’
Leaving Livvy staring helplessly after him, he opened the door and went upstairs. She had been going to offer to make him a hot drink, but now…
Refusing to let the tears blurring her eyes to fall, she hurriedly cleared away the evidence of her own meal. She was going to go upstairs to her own room, and, when she did, she wasn’t going to leave so much as a crumb behind to let him think that she wanted him to be reminded of her.
She was on the landing when the bathroom door opened.
Like a film played in slow motion, she saw Richard standing there, water dripping from his body…his naked body.
‘I forgot my towel.’
His voice was blurred and hoarse. It seemed to reach her from a great distance, so that she heard the words but could not shake herself free of the paralysis that gripped her, nor avert her eyes from him.
It wasn’t his nakedness that paralysed her, she recognised numbly. It was her own reaction to it; that great tide of shaming, claustrophobic longing and pain which told her with aching clarity just what she was to be deprived of.
Better not to have seen at all than to have to bear the instinctive knowledge that for the rest of her life her flesh would ache weakly for all that it had to be denied, for each touch, each breath, each sensation.
It wasn’t a matter of wanting, needing or lusting for him, she recognised fiercely. What she felt went much, much deeper than that.
‘Livvy…’ She heard him say her name, caught the raw harshness of the word, saw the anger in his expression and turned her back on him, half stumbling in her awkward, anxious attempt to get away.
‘Livvy…stop…wait…’
She made a small, anguished sound and then froze with shock as she felt him catch hold of her.