The Accidental Mistress Page 15

  ‘I didn’t think of that,’ she said ambiguously. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Come on, then.’ He swung down onto the track. ‘You want to let your hair down and run barefoot through the grass? Let’s do it.’

  This time she let herself take his hand. Even so, she staggered when her feet touched the uneven ground. Dominic caught her in a strong grip.

  ‘Hey. No need to take off at a sprint. We can start as gently as you like.’

  There was something about the way he said it that made Izzy narrow her eyes at him in sudden suspicion.

  ‘You are still talking about a walk in the meadow, right?’

  ‘I’m talking about whatever you want to talk about,’ he said soulfully.

  This was definitely seriously advanced flirting. Way beyond that offered by the Jemima Dare School, Izzy told herself wryly. It would be a good idea to be very, very wary.

  She strove to remove herself from his still encircling arm. ‘Then let’s stick with the botanical tour,’ she said firmly.

  He laughed and let her go.

  ‘Whatever you say.’

  She sat astride the pale wall and looked around her, marvelling. They were three quarters of the way up a hill. Below them she could see a little river, rushing and tumbling in a narrow gorge, disappearing here and there under overhanging bushes and an outcrop of willows. They looked like ancient witches, turned to trees by enchantment as they washed their hair. On the other side of the valley, so close it felt as if she could leap across in one bound, there was a patchwork of fields—a blonde swathe of late wheat; a green-gold pasture; a slab of bristly stubble where the birds picked busily among the stalks. The air hummed with life but there was no sound—not even from the rushing river below.

  Izzy drew a breath of total content. Well, nearly total content. What did it matter if he didn’t know? Her love was new and he was here! Poets had died for less.

  ‘This is wonderful.’

  He swung over the wall into the next field with one easy stretch of his long legs. ‘Then revel in it.’ It was that low voice that she remembered so well from the nightclub—smooth as velvet, rich as chocolate, melting.

  Izzy swallowed. She ached to surrender to that seductive voice. Her pulses raced and her heart yearned. And she had to stand still and pretend she was indifferent. The pain was exquisite.

  Dom held out an imperious hand. But his eyes weren’t imperious. They were searching.

  The temptation to take his hand was almost overwhelming. But it was a step too far into dangerous territory. Izzy held back, evading his glance.

  ‘We can’t just go tramping over someone else’s field,’ she protested.

  And I certainly don’t intend to let you hold my hand. Or look into my eyes and make double-edged remarks.

  Dominic laughed. ‘You’re a real little rule-keeper, aren’t you?’

  She gave a crack of startled laughter. ‘You are so wrong. I do whatever I have to.’

  She could not help herself. The Andean village and the men in their ragged combat gear flashed into her mind. But for the first time in ages she thought about them without flinching.

  She found Dominic was studying her closely.

  ‘Another memory? Not a nice one, I’d say.’

  She jumped. Her immediate instinct was to turn away, hide the old feelings. But then she paused.

  She had not flinched when she thought of them. She had come a long way. Could she complete the journey? Could she haul the festering splinter out into the light of day, once and for all. Could she tell Dominic Templeton-Burke?

  He folded his muscular arms over his chest, waiting.

  Izzy said, with difficulty, ‘I once had to—well, I thought I had to—I made up my mind to—’

  But, no, she couldn’t do it.

  Dom thought she was Jemima. He had to go on thinking it. He had brought Jemima here as part of some sophisticated ritual dance of sexual attraction and power play. It was a game to him. Izzy knew she could not afford to strip her soul bare for a man who was playing games.

  She turned away. ‘Are you sure the car won’t be in someone’s way?’

  ‘If it is, they can sound their horn,’ he said. Was it her imagination or did he sound disappointed? ‘You do worry about little things, don’t you? I just bet you were a prefect at school.’

  That was better. She could deal with this sort of teasing, easy-peasy. It was when his voice went to dark chocolate and he called her his lady that she nearly buckled—forgot her sister, forgot everything.

  She stuck her nose in the air. ‘If you’re calling me teacher’s pet, you’re quite wrong,’ said Izzy with dignity. She did not budge from the wall. ‘I’ll have you know I was banned from the zoology lab for putting electric currents through dead things.’

  ‘I’m impressed,’ he said lightly. ‘You must tell me about it some time. Now, are you going to come here to me? Or are you going to sit on the fence for ever?’

  Izzy was so startled that she forgot it was dangerous to look at him. This time she was not quick enough to avoid eye contact. His eyes held hers deliberately.

  ‘You can sit there kicking your heels as long as you like.’ His voice was level, dispassionate. And she was absolutely certain he wasn’t talking about the Cotswold wall. ‘But eventually you have to make up your mind. Forward. Or back. Only two ways to go.’

  Their eyes locked. She felt the hair rise on the back of her neck. He knows! she thought with sudden certainty. He knows I’m not Jemima. He has to. He can’t make me feel like this if he doesn’t know.

  ‘Well?’ said Dominic softly.

  She nearly challenged him with it then. So nearly.

  But she was shaken and vulnerable and he was—implacable, somehow. Think of Jemima, she told herself frantically. This is a spur of the moment thing. If you give in, you’ll regret it later. Jemima needs you. Dominic Templeton-Burke doesn’t.

  Ah, but what do I need?

  Later, Izzy told herself, almost weeping. Later.

  She levered herself briskly off the wall and went to him, her chin in the air.

  ‘Okay. You must know more about this place than I do. I’ll trust you to know what you’re doing.’

  ‘Gee, thanks.’ He didn’t sound pleased. ‘You’re a real flatterer, you know that?’

  ‘Just telling the truth.’

  Keep it light, she thought. Keep it light. Walk beside him so he can’t look into your eyes. Keep your distance so he can’t touch you. And you might just get to that dance unscathed.

  Dominic strode out without speaking for a few minutes. He was frowning at the ground as if it was obstructing him. Then he said abruptly, ‘Why won’t you trust me? I mean really trust me?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Izzy said in a strangled voice.

  Dom dismissed that with an impatient hand ‘Yes, you do. You weigh everything you say to me. You won’t look at me. You try hard to make me think you’re so at ease—but the moment my shoulder touches yours you leap a mile in the air.’

  Izzy gasped with genuine indignation. ‘I don’t!’

  ‘You should be where I’m standing,’ he said dryly. ‘Feels like a mile to me.’ He turned and looked down at her. The frown had gone but he was grave. Graver than she had ever seen him. He did not try to touch her. ‘Why?’

  Izzy thought fast.

  ‘You’re a man who likes to break rules, right?’

  His brows knitted. ‘Bend them sometimes, maybe. Who doesn’t?’

  Jemima didn’t. And Izzy had always laughed at her for it. But now, when it was so important, when Dom was so important— ‘I’m not sure I do,’ she said slowly.

  He was puzzled. ‘So?’

  ‘So from the moment we went bungee jumping yesterday you’ve been needling me. Pushing me. Wanting me to…’ she hesitated.

  ‘Break the rules?’ he said softly.

  ‘I—Yes.’

  ‘And which rules would they be?’ he said in an idle voice.
/>   My rules.

  But of course she couldn’t say that. Because then he would ask about her rules and she would be torn between Jemima, who needed her, and this laughing, teasing renegade who didn’t need anyone. Except that he wasn’t laughing at the moment. He looked deadly serious. Even vulnerable. Izzy realised it with a shock.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him the truth then. But she thought where it would take her. She would not just be betraying Jemima. She would be opening the door for him to all her secrets. And she would have to take herself back to that Andean hillside and the reasons why she was not, and could never now be, like her innocent-hearted sister.

  Izzy stared at him until her eyes ached. And could not think of a thing to say.

  Dom put out a hand, very carefully, as if she were a nervous animal, and just touched a frond of her hair.

  ‘All right,’ he said quietly. ‘We’ll play it your way. I’m a patient man.’

  Izzy’s throat hurt. He sounded so—caring. The temptation to fling herself into his arms and tell him her every last secret was almost overwhelming.

  Almost! Remember Jemima. This is for Jemima. Jemima is counting on you.

  ‘I can wait. But one day you will tell me.’

  ‘I—’ She moistened her lips.

  Instantly his eyes flared, as if she had waved a match in front of them.

  He groaned. ‘Just as well I’m into endurance sports. Oh, well, come along, you tantalising woman. There’s work to be done.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  AND work started the moment they came in sight of the house. Izzy was grateful for it. It stopped her thinking about the temptations of the truth. And the risks.

  ‘Oh, wow,’ she said brightly. ‘Just as I thought. ‘A full-on stately home. Palladian façade! Three massive wings! Statues on the terrace! It looks like a film set.’

  Dominic was amused. ‘And this is just the back yard,’ he said solemnly. ‘You should see the statues in the front.’

  Izzy groaned. ‘You said smart. Not imperial.’

  He chuckled. ‘Wait until you get indoors. You’ll be knocked over by an Irish wolfhound who thinks he’s a poodle and licked to death by a cat who thinks she’s a dog. Formal it isn’t.’

  And then the back drive curved a little and she saw the field of booths and tents stretching away to their left, down to the little river.

  ‘Oh, look, the house is under siege,’ she said chattily.

  Dominic was unmoved. ‘That’s the fête. In fact, I’d better just stop off and unload. I can find out when I’m needed, too.’

  He coasted onto flat ground in the shade of an oak tree and touched the horn.

  Several people were milling around among half-assembled trestle tables. They all looked up at the sound of the horn and one of them came over. She was tall and white haired, with humorous grey eyes very like Dominic’s.

  ‘Hello, toad. Brought your begging bowl?’ she greeted him.

  ‘Hello, Aunt Margaret. I’ve brought you a bonus. This is—’

  Did he hesitate fractionally? Izzy wasn’t sure.

  ‘Jemima Dare. She’s a much more glamorous celebrity than I am.’

  The woman addressed as Aunt Margaret raised her eyebrows, also very like Dominic.

  ‘That’s not hard.’ But she nodded pleasantly. ‘Nice to see you, Jemima. You’ll have to bunk up with Dom. The house is packed to the rafters. Still, you’re probably used to it.’

  Izzy gulped. ‘H-hello.’

  Dom chuckled. ‘My sort-of-aunt, the Duchess of Bonaccord. She’s a professional bully and organiser of fêtes.’

  ‘Somebody has to,’ said his aunt, unmoved. ‘We’ve given you booth number four. You can put all your posters and stuff up there. The children have made I put Dominic on Ice stickers. They’re going to dress up as Eskimos and go round selling them.’

  Dom looked appalled. ‘There aren’t any Eskimos in Antarctica.’

  ‘Details, details,’ said his sort-of-aunt airily. ‘Anyway, Flossy may turn up as a penguin. They were arguing about it at breakfast.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right, then,’ said Dom, relieved. ‘There are plenty of penguins.’

  Izzy choked. He smacked her knee lightly, out of sight of the Duchess.

  ‘Okay, Aunt Margaret. We’ll unload my stuff now. Then go up to the house and unpack.’

  ‘And then you can come back and help put up the stalls,’ said the Duchess firmly. ‘We need all the help we can get if you’re going to cut that ribbon at three!’

  They did as they were told.

  The house was, as Dom promised, nothing like as intimidating as it looked from the outside. They went in through a side door straight into an enormous kitchen. Enormous but, as it seemed to Izzy, full to bursting.

  In addition to the psychologically disturbed wolfhound there were people of all ages in various stages of undress, a more or less cafeteria breakfast service and three children in pyjamas wearing diving flippers.

  ‘Why?’ asked Dom, interested.

  ‘Penguin feet,’ explained a seven year old seriously. ‘We made the beaks last night.’

  ‘That sounds encouraging,’ he said to Izzy, as serious as his small relative. ‘The fewer Eskimos the better. That sort of mistake is not good for my public image.’

  ‘And your public image is all you care about, of course,’ teased Izzy, her eyes full of affectionate amusement.

  ‘Too right. It’s money in the bank to a man on the fundraising trail.’ He looked round the kitchen. ‘Definitely too many people. We’ve got to do some serious staking out of territory here. Come along.’

  He hefted his overnight bag onto his shoulder and led her through a dizzying length of corridors and up some back stairs to the attic. He pushed open a door and said, ‘Ah. Good.’

  Izzy peered over his shoulder and saw a functional bathroom with a welcoming array of rubber ducks and swimming frogs.

  ‘A bathroom?’ she said puzzled. ‘You want a bath?’

  ‘No, but I will,’ said Dom briskly. ‘And so will you. I just wanted to check they hadn’t moved it since the last time I stayed.’

  Izzy shook her head, bewildered. ‘I suppose you know what you’re talking about?’

  His eyes danced. ‘First law of surviving the English country house weekend. Seek out the children’s bathroom and stake your claim.’ He plonked a battered sponge bag down on an equally battered bathroom stool.

  Izzy laughed. ‘You can’t resist the rubber ducks?’

  ‘I can’t resist the hot water,’ corrected Dom. ‘The hot water cylinder is usually in the children’s bathroom. The further you get away from it, the further it has to travel, the more tepid it becomes. Aunt Margaret will suggest you use her bathroom. Fight her off with pikes and sabres. It’s got cushions and wall-to-wall Dior bath oils. The bath is the size of a boat. By the time it’s full, it’s cold.’

  Izzy choked. ‘Thanks for the tip.’

  ‘Least I could do. I don’t want you freezing. Even in such a warm September this is a cold house. And I hate cold feet in bed.’

  All desire to laugh left her. ‘About that…’

  ‘There’s no spare room. We have to share a bed. Believe me, it’s a whole lot better than sharing a damp tent in the jungle. You’ll survive,’ he said breezily.

  Izzy snorted. ‘Of course I will. It’s not that.’

  He cocked an intelligent eyebrow. ‘No horizontal tango? Fair enough. I’ll keep my hands off you if you promise to do the same.’

  Not for the first time Izzy would have liked to hit him.

  ‘I’m willing to sign the pledge,’ she said, with more bite than she’d meant.

  Dom stuck out a hand. ‘You’ve got yourself a deal.’

  He shook her hand firmly. And then didn’t touch her for the rest of the hectic day.

  Izzy did not know if she was reassured or irritated. By mid-afternoon, though, she was sure as hell frustrated.

  He was a charmer. No qu
estion of that. He gave a delightfully witty speech to open the fête and cut the ribbon. And then he sat patiently in his booth, surrounded by glossy posters of himself and his companions in various dangerous exploits. He signed autographs, taking the time to have a real conversation with everyone. It slowed down the queue like nobody’s business. But Dominic wouldn’t be hurried. If a ten-year-old wanted to know how you went to the lavatory on pack ice, then Dom was more than willing to explain.

  Izzy watched a liberal parent’s eyes cross and hastily held out a copy of a poster.

  ‘Eighty per cent of the price goes to fund the expedition,’ she said encouragingly.

  It deflected Dom and his interlocutor. A poster, a couple of books and an I put Dominic on Ice sticker changed hands.

  ‘Thank you,’ gasped the parent with real gratitude, and staggered out in the direction of scones and tea.

  Dom grinned at her. ‘What a team we make. They pay me for the stories and then they pay you to get away from them! Want to join the campaign bus?’

  Izzy smiled. But inwardly she flinched. If the invitation were to Izzy and not Jemima it would be heaven, she thought. But he barely knew Izzy existed and there was a queue to deal with.

  So she waved at him to talk to the next eager enquirer. Meanwhile she tidied the pile of books he had brought for sale. There was a wide variety—about the Antarctic, about his previous expeditions, about extreme conditions and survival techniques.

  ‘And not one of them written by you!’ said Izzy in congratulatory tones. ‘So you have some feelings of modesty after all.’

  Dom’s grin died. ‘My companions tell it better—including what a bastard I am to travel with,’ he said lightly. But his eyes were bleak.

  What have I said? thought Izzy, alarmed. I never meant to hurt his feelings! I was only teasing. Oh, why do I keep getting everything so wrong? I’m not normally so clumsy. Pretending really, really doesn’t suit me.

  Still, if she had hurt his feelings Dominic did not let it show. He was endlessly patient with the fairgoers. He answered every question, no matter how daft, with courtesy and precision. He was nice to everybody.