Deceptive Passion Read online

  Susie's eyes flickered. She shrugged.

  `Since I take it he was in bed alone, I don't see what the fuss is about,' she said but her voice was strained. `You did it daily up to two years ago.'

  `It was different then,' Diana said bleakly.

  She was remembering. Two years ago, they had been barely speaking. Four years ago they had been in love. Whenever she walked into a room where Miles was, he would turn his head and smile at her. She remembered the physical sensation like touching electricity, whenever she met the warm brown eyes.

  When he'd invited her to bed then, it hadn't been a challenge, a way of watching her squirm. It had been tender, passionate, laughing and infinitely gentle. Tears threatened again. She turned her head, furious with herself.

  Susie said curtly, 'Look, I don't know why there was a mix-up about your room. I'll sort it out. I've only just arrived myself. I haven't had time to talk to Maria yet.'

  Diana ignored that. She said quietly, 'All you had to do was tell me you'd be here, Susie. I wouldn't have come.'

  Something flashed in the black cherry eyes. 'You'd have preferred to be alone with Miles?'

  This time Diana prevented herself from shuddering. `I'd have preferred to be alone. Full stop.'

  Susie looked at her carefully. 'I believe you would.' She sounded blank.

  `I assure you I would,' Diana agreed wryly.

  Susie shook her head. She sank down on the chaise-longue again. The rigidity seemed to go out of her.

  `I didn't know you were coming,' she said at last. `Nobody told me. I wasn't intending to be here myself but—well, something came up and I wanted to leave Athens.' A small, unhappy smile crossed her face. 'Not the ideal holiday for either of us.'

  Diana took a decision. 'I'll go.'

  At once Susie's head came up. She looked alarmed.

  `You mustn't do that. They'll blame me. Chris is angry enough with me as it is.' She sounded genuinely worried.

  `I'm sorry,' said Diana without much truth. On the whole she tried to help people out, but her charity towards Susie Galatas had diminished in direct proportion to the attention her husband had afforded the Countess in the year before they parted.

  Susie said rapidly, 'Look, I don't know what's going on but I think Chris and Miles put their heads together. They'll never forgive me if I louse it up.'

  Diana stared, bemused. 'Are you saying I was deliberately brought here under false pretences?' she demanded slowly.

  Susie bit her lip. 'Miles may want to see you. He hasn't said anything to me, but ... Is it so impossible?' she flashed with sudden bitterness.

  Diana didn't believe it. In two years Miles hadn't written or made so much as a telephone call at New Year. He had asked for a meeting in the solicitor's offices a couple of times, of course, but Diana was fairly sure that was at her solicitor's instigation. Her solicitor had taken his moral obligation to attempt a reconciliation very seriously. In the end she had had to tell him frankly that she couldn't bear seeing Miles again that way.

  `But if Miles—' she stumbled over the name —wanted to get in touch he had only—'

  `To write to your solicitor. I know. He said.' Susie sighed. 'I agree with you, that would have been the most sensible. What's the point in scratching over old wounds? But Miles ' She shrugged again. 'You know what he's like. He wants his own way. I heard Miles tell Chris he asked for a meeting three times and you wouldn't agree. That,' she added unnecessarily, 'annoyed him.'

  So that was why he had conspired with Chris in setting this trap. Determination not to be bested by her evasive tactics. His determination was one of the things that Diana had most loved about him Once. She bit back sudden, infuriating tears. Tiredness, she assured herself savagely.

  When she had mastered her voice she said carefully, `We had nothing to say to each other. It could only have been—painful.'

  `You mean you couldn't face it,' Susie interpreted accurately.

  Diana's eyes flickered. She didn't answer. Susie sighed angrily.

  `Well, he's here now. And so are you. What are you going to do about it?'

  `I—don't know,' Diana said in a voice that was hardly a voice at all. 'Look, Susie, I can't talk about this now. I'm so tired I can't think straight. Can you find me somewhere—anywhere—to lie down for a couple of hours? Maybe I'll start making sense after that.'

  `But Miles ...'

  `Please,' said Diana with the quiet firmness that had worked so signally on the car rental clerk.

  It worked on Susie too. She gave a small shrug.

  `If that's what you want. I thought you'd like a room in the eighteenth-century bit, overlooking the terrace.' She hesitated and then said almost angrily, 'There'll be the whole castle between you and Miles. So you don't have to worry about him creeping up on you when you're asleep.'

  Diana did not answer.

  The room was exquisite. Diana looked round at the

  creamy hangings and delicate furniture and thought

  wryly how different it was from the room Miles inhab-

  ited. Or Susie for that matter. They were obviously on the family corridor. She wondered, briefly and painfully, whether they visited each other's rooms.

  Though there was something in the other woman's manner that told her they didn't. She seemed angry, bitter even. Not like the successful rival confronting the old love.

  `Oh, it's all so difficult,' she said aloud.

  For the second time that afternoon she stepped out of her clothes. She was already more than half asleep as she slipped between the rosemary-scented sheets.

  She didn't stir when Susie looked in an hour later. She didn't stir when Maria brought up her suitcase and placed it on the folding stool beside the bathroom door. Maria chuckled maternally and let herself out with only the minimum creaking of ancient hinges. Diana never moved.

  She came wide awake, though, instantly, when the door closed behind Miles.

  He stood with his hands behind him against the door, watching her sardonically.

  `Recovered?'

  Diana hauled herself up on the pillows, clutching the covers cautiously to her chest. She was wearing her underwear, which, she thought wryly, was better than a towel but not much. She schooled her expression. So much for Susie's belief that Miles would not invade her room, she thought. For all their shared childhood and Susie's own barely disguised predilection, she sometimes wondered how well Susie Galatas really knew Miles.

  `Recovering,' she said coolly. 'I've got a lot of sleep to catch up on.'

  `And you want me to push off while you do,' he interpreted softly.

  She inclined her head. The fair hair was straining at the pins that kept it knotted at the nape. She winced. Miles saw it.

  `Take them out,' he said.

  Diana flinched. The sudden memory was vivid; too vivid. The times he had sat on the edge of the bed behind her, taking out the hairpins one by one; massaging her shoulders gently; kissing the back of her neck. Her eyes slid away from him as she fought the memory down.

  `What do you want, Miles?' she asked.

  His eyes were still on her hair. 'Why don't you take it down, for God's sake? You know it gives you a headache if you sleep with it up like that.'

  Diana tensed. But she replied calmly enough, 'Thank you for your advice. What do you want?'

  He came right into the room then and stood at the foot of the bed. He scanned her. It was odd, thought Diana confusedly, that a man with such a mobile, expressive face could be so completely unreadable when he chose.

  `A talk,' he said at last coolly. 'A few words. Nothing more.'

  Miles picked up a three-legged, fan-backed chair and swung it round so he could sit astride it, looking at her. He crossed his arms along the back and dropped his chin on them.

  She watched him warily. He looked, thought Diana, irritated, like a scientist confronted with an interesting specimen.

  `So speak,' she said curtly, looking away.

  'Susie said you weren't staying.'
He sounded indifferent. Diana mistrusted him thoroughly. 'Because of me.'

  Diana was startled. She had not been together enough to make a decision like that, and Susie knew it. She had

  even urged her to stay. What game was the Countess playing? she wondered.

  Though, of course, it was really the only sensible thing to do—to leave now before it all got recriminatory and hurtful.

  Diana moved restlessly. 'So?'

  His eyes were very steady. 'Is it true?'

  She didn't know the answer to that even now. She burst out, 'What did you expect, for heaven's sake? That I would walk into the trap and say thank you?'

  The brown eyes flickered. 'Trap?'

  Diana made a weary gesture. 'What else would you call it? It was obvious what you planned. Getting me to a nice remote castle where I couldn't easily get away.'

  His eyes narrowed. 'So I'm scheming against you? Planning a kidnap, maybe?' he said softly.

  `What else is this?' she flung at him.

  He put his head on one side, considering it. His fingers drummed on the fragile back of the chair.

  `Why should I do that?' he parried.

  Diana shook her head. 'That's what I said. It makes no sense. But Susie told me you and Chris conspired behind my back'

  His mouth slanted in an unamused smile. 'And you and Susie have been discussing me behind my back,' he pointed out, even more softly.

  Diana curbed an instinct to apologise. He had always been able to do that: put her in the wrong so she backed away from what would have been a legitimate protest.

  She glared at him. 'Don't I have a right to defend myself? Who else would tell me what's going on, for God's sake?'

  That, she saw with satisfaction, got him on the raw. His eyebrows flew up as if she had astonished him. For

  a moment he looked as taut and dangerous as she had ever seen him. Diana's muscles locked in tension.

  Then, with one of those bewildering changes of mood, he was laughing. The brown eyes, astonishingly, were warm, even caressing.

  `You're growing up,' he said, propping his chin on his hands again. 'What else was I to do? I couldn't get past your damned obstructive solicitor.'

  `Why should you want to?' Diana demanded harshly. Miles looked surprised. 'You're my wife. We need to talk. Surely you can see that?'

  She winced. 'Why? We never talked when we were married.'

  For a moment he didn't answer. Then he said gently, `We're still married.'

  She was shaken with a gust of anger. He hadn't remembered they were married when he walked out two years ago. He hadn't wanted to remember since, either.

  `And that gives you the right to manipulate me? Amuse yourself a little, maybe? At my expense, of course.' She couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice.

  Miles watched her, his face unreadable. But he said lightly enough, 'There's a certain humour in the situation certainly. Though you don't seem to see it yourself. So what are you going to do? Cut and run?'

  Diana sighed, the anger draining out of her. Her head was beginning to thump. Absently she started to take out the hairpins.

  `I don't know,' she admitted. 'I haven't thought much beyond this fortnight for weeks. Frankly, I'm too tired to climb back into the car and make a break for freedom today.'

  Miles made an involuntary movement, quickly stilled.

  `Do you want me to go?' he asked her unexpectedly.

  Diana jumped. For the first time she remembered he was supposed to be in Australia. Had something gone wrong?

  `What are you doing here?' she asked slowly.

  Miles hesitated. 'We cut the lecture schedule. Steve's gone back to England for a holiday.'

  Overwork, Diana diagnosed, hearing what he wasn't saying. Neither Miles nor Steve Gilman had any sense of self-preservation when they were working. They must have driven themselves to the end of endurance. Miles would need a holiday. And this was the home of much of his childhood.

  She said, 'You shouldn't have to leave. This is your place.'

  Miles shrugged again. 'I've never been a permanent resident. I can come back any time and resume my own holiday.'

  Diana shook her head decisively. 'Not on my account. I bet you need this break.'

  His mouth twisted in a small, private smile. She had learned to fear that smile. She never knew what it meant.

  `Same old Diana,' he said softly. 'I wondered. I can see I needn't have done. Waifs and strays and needy persons this way.' He stood up suddenly, swinging the chair one-handed back to its place against the wall. 'Yes, I need a break. But I'm not on my last legs. I could go and play with the tourists on one of the islands if it would make you any happier.'

  `No,' said Diana swiftly, making up her mind. 'No. I'll go. Oh, maybe not today. Or even tomorrow. But when I've got my breath back.'

  Miles said without expression, 'Running away, Diana?' She closed her eyes briefly. 'Is that so surprising?'

  `Running doesn't help, you know,' he said gently. 'You have to turn and face the truth one day. Why not sooner rather than later?'

  She made a helpless gesture. 'Don't.'

  But he pursued his advantage ruthlessly.

  `It would be such very public running, too. Susie's not the only one here with us, you know. Chris is down for a few days. And—' he hesitated ' — an old boyfriend of Susie's. They'll talk if you pack your bags and bolt. Are you sure you feel equal to dealing with it? I thought you always wanted to settle our differences in private.'

  It was true. Diana had fought to maintain the appearance of a united front for months after Miles had stopped speaking to her except in that clipped, cold way. She had taken his arm in public; smiled at him across dinner tables; pretended she knew where he was when people rang. He had accused her then of not facing up to things. And in the end he had made her face them. When he left her.

  She felt the old sense of helpless incomprehension begin to take hold. She pushed it down firmly. She wasn't helpless any more. And she understood Miles only too well.

  `Our differences are pretty public now, I think,' she said quietly.

  He gave a little nod, like a chess player acknowledging an opponent's move.

  `True enough. But Susie at least will demand a blow-by-blow account of what we've said to each other if you leave now,' he said at last carefully. 'You won't enjoy that, you know.'

  It was true. Diana gave a little shiver. He knew her too well, this man.

  `What do you want me to do, then?' she muttered.

  He showed no indecent triumph. He didn't laugh at her capitulation. Indeed, he seemed to be choosing his words as carefully as if she had not given in at all.

  `Give it a chance. Just a few days. We can be polite to each other that long, surely?'

  Diana did not even try to meet his eyes. Miles could school his features like an actor, she had learned. And his expression was no clue to his feelings.

  `I suppose so,' she said reluctantly.

  `You won't see much of me,' he assured her, his tone dry. 'I'm in the fields most of the day. Or out on the boat.'

  She said, 'I'll try to keep out of your way, then.'

  He stood up at once. She felt a little spurt of resentment. Of course he would go, once she'd agreed to do what he wanted. And she wanted him to go, didn't she? After all she didn't want to talk to him. It was illogical to mind. It was just, she assured herself, that it was all too humiliatingly familiar.

  `I'll see you at dinner, then.'

  She thought he was going and felt the tension drain out of her. So it was all the greater shock when he took two long strides towards her. His arm snaked out and before she knew what he was doing he had flicked the last confining pins out of her hair.

  It fell in a fair, feathery cloud. Diana felt it brush her shoulders and then, rigid with disbelief, felt his fingers looping it gently aside. As if they were still married, as if he had never hurt and deserted her, Miles Tabard bent and brushed his mouth against her exposed nape.

  Sh
e gave a little gasp of outrage and jerked away from him. But he was laughing. And then he was gone.

  When Susie came to fetch her before dinner, Diana was seriously reconsidering her decision.

  Susie was wearing a simple cotton caftan with a bold geometric pattern in red and purple. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a coronet that made her look serene and royal. She was wearing, Diana saw, what were probably thousands of pounds' worth of platinum and rubies at her ears and wrists. Her bare feet were in chain-store espadrilles. She looked beautiful.

  For the millionth time, Diana looked at Miles's childhood playfellow and thought, Why me?

  But all she said was, 'You're looking very gorgeous. I take it exotic royalty is in this year?'

  Susie laughed. She had very little vanity. And sometimes, when they were not discussing Miles or romantic relationships, she could be very nice, Diana remembered.

  `Be honest. You can't see me for the rubies,' she replied.

  So she'd been right, Diana thought drily. She hadn't been certain because until she married Miles she had barely seen, much less owned, real jewels.

  `They're lovely,' Diana agreed. 'New?'

  Susie made a face. 'My grandmother's. We don't ask too closely how she got them. Are you ready?'

  Diana glanced at her reflection. Normally she didn't wear much make-up but tonight, for some reason, she suddenly felt as if she wanted colour on her face. Armour, she thought wryly. Or maybe camouflage.

  `Two minutes,' she said, reaching for the mascara.

  Susie sat down on the love-seat. She watched Diana with a strange expression.

  `You're beautiful, aren't you?' she said abruptly. Diana was so startled that she nearly poked the mascara wand in her eye.

  `You're joking.'

  `No.' It was oddly sombre. 'You have the bones. And that look of vulnerability. As if you'd tremble into dust if a man laid a hand on you. I see why ' She stopped.