The Unwilling Mistress Page 15

  Graham gave an acknowledging inclination of his head. ‘But you aren’t,’ he returned dryly. ‘And I would say it’s very unlikely that you will remain that way,’ he added teasingly.

  Will gave a dismissive shake of his head. ‘Let’s just go, hmm, Graham.’ He picked up his bag and briefcase. ‘The sooner I’m out of here, the better I’ll like it.’

  His friend chuckled softly as he joined him by the door. ‘You can run but you can’t hide,’ he rejoined enigmatically.

  Will gave him a narrow-eyed glare, not fooled for a moment. ‘I’m not even going to qualify that remark with an answer. Just move it,’ he grated hardly.

  Graham was still chuckling as he clattered down the metal stairs ahead of him.

  Whereas Will couldn’t see anything funny about this situation, lingering to take one last glance over at the farmhouse before getting into his car.

  The light was still on in the kitchen, and Will could easily imagine the two sisters, sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea or coffee, talking softly together.

  Would March do anything about Clive Carter?

  Would the sisters sell the farm?

  Would May take the film role if it were offered?

  Would March take up Graham’s offer of an exhibition of her work?

  In only a matter of days he had become completely embroiled in the life of the Calendar sisters. And with his abrupt departure he was giving up the right to an answer to any of those questions…

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘HE HASN’T gone, you know, March.’

  March looked up from where she had been pushing the food around on her plate in an effort to look as if she were really eating her dinner, when in actual fact she hadn’t been able to eat anything for days. Her throat felt dry all the time from the tears she cried whenever she was alone, and the thought of actually having to swallow anything other than the strong cups of tea or coffee she was constantly making was complete anathema to her.

  ‘March,’ May pushed strongly. ‘I said—’

  ‘I heard what you said,’ March assured her wearily.

  ‘I just didn’t understand it,’ she admitted ruefully.

  May sighed, her frown one of concern rather than censure. ‘You really can’t go on like this, you know, March. You aren’t eating, you aren’t sleeping—oh, I’ve heard you pacing around in your bedroom at night,’ she said firmly. ‘You’ve lost weight the last three days, March, and it really doesn’t suit you.’

  ‘Thanks!’ She smiled ruefully.

  May shrugged. ‘It’s the truth, and you know it. And what I said just now was that Will hasn’t gone.’

  March frowned uncomprehendingly. ‘Gone where?’

  ‘Don’t play with your food,’ her sister reproved lightly, standing up to move the untouched plate of food from in front of March. ‘Uncle Sid saw Will’s car over at the Hanworth Estate earlier today; I’ve been debating all day whether or not I should tell you,’ she admitted with a grimace. ‘But looking at you this evening—this can’t go on, you know, March.’ She gave a determined shake of her head.

  March sat stunned by the fact that Will was still in the area. On Monday evening he had said—what had he said, exactly? That he had to get away from here, from the farm, from her, not that he was actually going back to London. She was the one who had assumed that.

  She swallowed hard, her throat dry. ‘So he’s still around.’ She shrugged. ‘What does that have to do with me?’

  May frowned. ‘March, you’re in love with the man—’

  ‘I am not! Well…okay, maybe I am,’ she acknowledged gruffly at her sister’s reproving look. What was the point of denying it? She had all the symptoms of unrequited love!

  ‘Well?’ May prompted impatiently when March added nothing to her original statement.

  ‘Well what?’ She stood up, moving restlessly around the kitchen. ‘He certainly doesn’t feel the same way about me!’ To her dismay her voice broke emotionally.

  The last three days since Will’s abrupt departure had been awful. She was in love with a man who—

  ‘You didn’t hear him on Monday evening, May,’ she cried painfully. ‘He told Graham Whitford that he wished he had never met me!’ She buried her face in her hands, the tears starting to fall once again.

  May’s arms came around March as she patted her back soothingly. ‘I’m sure that he does, too,’ she acknowledged dryly.

  March raised her head sharply. ‘Well, then?’ she snapped defensively.

  ‘Oh, March.’ Her sister shook her head, frustrated affection on her face as she held March at arm’s length. ‘Of course Will wishes he had never met you—goodness knows you aren’t the easiest person in the world to love! Oh, I don’t have a problem with it,’ she assured hastily at March’s woebegone look. ‘But I’m your sister. Will hasn’t known whether he’s on his head or his heels since the moment he met you!’

  ‘Rubbish,’ she dismissed hardly, moving away from May to stare sightlessly out of the window.

  She loved this place, loved her sisters, and until a few days ago she had been perfectly happy with her life. Now it all felt something like a prison, holding her captive here, with no reprieve in sight.

  ‘After I spoke to Uncle Sid this morning I checked around in town for the likeliest hotel for Will to be staying—’

  ‘You didn’t?’ March gasped, her eyes wide as she turned to face May.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry.’ May smiled ruefully. ‘I haven’t spoken to him or anything like that. I just wanted to know if he had returned to the same hotel. He has,’ she added with satisfaction.

  ‘But why did you go to that trouble?’ March shook her head dazedly.

  ‘So that I could tell you, of course,’ her sister returned impatiently.

  ‘But—’

  ‘March, if you don’t go and see Will then I’m afraid I will have to. And I think it might be better if it were you,’ May added huskily.

  ‘And just what would I say to him?’ she cried frustratedly.

  ‘Well, an apology might not be a bad way to start—’

  ‘I did that on Monday evening—’

  ‘As I understand it, you apologized to Graham Whitford on Monday evening,’ May cut in determinedly. ‘Who, incidentally, isn’t going to wait for ever for you to call him and accept his offer,’ she added frowningly.

  ‘But I—’

  ‘You are going to accept, March,’ May told her firmly.

  ‘It’s what you’ve always wanted.’ Her voice softened affectionately. ‘And you aren’t going to let pride stand in your way of accepting. But first you have to apologize to Will, and thank him for going to the trouble of giving you this opportunity.’

  She knew that, had known it for the last three days. It was not knowing where Will was, or how to contact him, that had made this time seem so much bleaker.

  ‘What if he won’t see me?’ She frowned her uncertainty.

  May gave a chuckle. ‘He’ll see you. But if you want an excuse for turning up at his hotel room…’ she moved to pick up the envelope that sat on one of the worktops ‘…he didn’t take this cheque with him when he left.’ She handed it to March.

  He probably wouldn’t take it now, either, and it was a pretty feeble excuse for going to see him in the first place. But it was better than nothing…

  ‘Okay.’ She took the envelope, turning to leave.

  ‘March, aren’t you going to change or—or at least smarten up your appearance before you go?’ May frowned concernedly.

  She was looking less than her best, March knew, wearing no make-up, had lived in jeans and jumpers the last three days, and her hair could probably do with a wash too. But if she took the time to smarten herself up, as May put it, she might just lose her nerve and not go at all.

  ‘Never mind,’ May added hastily, obviously having read the same thing from March’s expression. ‘I don’t suppose Will will be too interested in the way you look, anyway—I didn’t mean it like
that, March.’ She chuckled ruefully at March’s pained grimace. ‘If I’m right about the way Will feels about you, then he isn’t going to care what you look like, he’ll just be glad to see you.’

  March had no idea how Will felt about her, only knew that she had to see him, whether he wanted to see her or not.

  Although she didn’t feel quite so sure about that an hour later when Will opened the door to his hotel suite, his look of polite enquiry turning to a scowl as he saw it was her standing there!

  March was the last person he had expected to see this evening. The last person he had ever expected to see at all!

  In fact, he was so surprised to see her that it didn’t even cross his mind how she had known he was here…!

  His gaze ate her up hungrily, noting the dark shadows beneath her eyes, the gaunt paleness of her face—she had never looked more beautiful to him!

  ‘March,’ he greeted huskily—inanely—wondering why it was that whenever he was around this woman he ceased to be a confidently articulate man and became a dumbstruck idiot.

  She still didn’t speak, her eyes—those beautiful grey-green eyes—filling with tears as she looked up at him.

  ‘What is it?’ His voice sharpened in concern at her continued silence, a dark frown on his brow. ‘Is it May? January or Max?’

  She smiled through her tears. ‘No. But thank you for your concern,’ she added throatily.

  Will frowned his confusion. ‘Then what—is it Carter?’ He scowled. ‘Did he turn nasty, after all?’

  ‘No, it isn’t Clive, either.’ She gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘Actually, you’re totally wrong about that situation. You see—’

  ‘Come inside and talk,’ Will cut in briskly, not at all happy talking to her in a hotel corridor like this, where anyone might stroll along and overhear them.

  She hesitated. ‘If you’re sure I’m not interrupting…?’

  His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that the only thing you’re interrupting is the final adjustments on my plans for the health and country club!’ Although, as he saw her frown deepen, he wasn’t sure that was an altogether diplomatic subject for him to have mentioned!

  But to his relief March merely nodded before accompanying him inside his hotel suite.

  She gave him a hesitant, totally un-March smile, deepening his concern that something was seriously wrong.

  ‘You were saying…?’ he prompted frowningly.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She nodded, seeming relieved to have a neutral subject she could talk about. ‘I’m afraid you totally misunderstood the situation at the estate agency; Michelle was the one who was buying properties under value and then selling them on.’

  ‘Michelle…?’ Will couldn’t hide his disbelief; to him Michelle Jones most resembled a timid little mouse, didn’t seem at all the type to become involved in such subterfuge.

  ‘Yes,’ March sighed. ‘Apparently she thought Clive was tiring of her, and the estate agency, decided that she needed a little nest egg of her own for that eventuality.’ March shrugged ruefully.

  Will was stunned. Absolutely stunned. ‘You’ve spoken to her?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ March sighed again. ‘She came to see me at the farm yesterday. Apparently she and Clive have discussed the whole thing. Michelle is going to go to the police and tell them exactly what she has done. But first she and Clive are going to be married.’

  ‘She may go to prison for what she’s done.’ Will frowned.

  March grimaced. ‘They know that. He has a strange way of showing it, but it seems that Clive loves her and is going to stand by her. I— Would you mind if I sat down? I—I’m really not feeling so good.’ She sat down abruptly.

  She didn’t look so good either, Will realized as he frowned his concern. Her jeans hung loosely on her, those dark shadows beneath her eyes and the gauntness of her face taking on another aspect entirely.

  He moved to the mini-bar, taking out a small bottle of whisky and pouring it into one of the glasses before handing it to March. ‘Drink it,’ he advised gruffly.

  She looked up to give him a smile. ‘As long as you don’t complain when it makes me drunk; I’m afraid I haven’t eaten very much the last few days.’

  Neither had Will, if the truth were known. He simply didn’t have any appetite. And as for sleeping…! Come to think of it, he probably looked as ill as March said she felt!

  ‘The last three days, in fact,’ March added huskily.

  Three days. Precisely the amount of time that had passed since the last time the two of them had spoken…

  ‘Drink it,’ he repeated softly, going down on his haunches beside her chair to look at her concernedly. ‘March, what are you doing here?’ he prompted gently, at the same time taking one of her hands in his.

  Even her fingers were slimmer, just skin covering the delicate bones beneath, a slight tremor to that delicacy as his thumb lightly caressed the back of her hand.

  She took a large gulp of the whisky before answering him, the fiery liquid bringing a little colour to the paleness of her cheeks. ‘I didn’t realize you were still in the area until Uncle Sid saw you earlier today—May was the one who found out you were back at this hotel— Will, I owe you an apology.’ Her voice was huskier still from the effects of the whisky. ‘I realize you were just trying to be helpful. By sending some of my paintings to Graham,’ she explained abruptly. ‘I—I’ve decided to accept his offer.’ She looked at him searchingly, as if unsure of what his response was going to be to this decision.

  ‘I’m glad,’ Will assured her unhesitantly. ‘Really glad,’ he added with satisfaction. ‘You’re good, March. Very good.’

  She gave a rueful smile. ‘Well, I don’t know about that. But Graham seems to think I might be too, so let’s hope you’re both right.’

  ‘We are,’ he told her with certainty. ‘Was that—is the apology the only reason you came here?’ he prompted carefully.

  March gave a self-derisive smile. ‘Isn’t that enough?’

  He grimaced. Not nearly enough, as far as he was concerned.

  The last three days had been purgatory for him, with March so close and yet emotionally so far away, and yet he had been loath to leave the area. He hadn’t slept much, and food had held no interest for him; the only thing left for him to do had been to concentrate on finishing Jude’s plans for the health and country club. And even that irritated him, with its indisputable connection to March and the farm she had lived in all her life.

  But now, after those awful three days, March was here with him, and the thought of letting her just get up and walk out the door was completely unacceptable to him.

  He straightened abruptly. ‘In that case, I have something that needs to be said,’ he bit out grimly, thrusting his hands into his denim pockets; if he didn’t he might just reach down and pull her into his arms, kiss her until she was senseless, and to hell with any explanations!

  March looked up at him warily. ‘Yes?’

  Will looked down at her frustratedly, wondering where to begin, what to say. And then knowing there was only one thing he really wanted to say. Only one thing that mattered.

  He drew in a ragged breath. ‘March, will you marry me?’

  There.

  He had said it.

  Said the one thing that had been uppermost in his mind for the last three days without her in his life.

  Now it only remained for March to give him another slap in the face, either verbally or physically!

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  PERHAPS she was drunk, after all, because Will couldn’t really have just asked her to marry him. Could he…?

  She stared up at him disbelievingly, unable to read anything from his guarded expression. Except…

  Now that she looked at him more closely, Will didn’t look a lot better than she did, dark shadows beneath those gloriously blue eyes, his face thinner too, an unhealthy pallor to the gauntness of his cheeks.

  Perhaps he had been as
miserable as she had the last three days?

  Perhaps for the same reason—because he was also in love with her!

  She moistened dry lips before carefully placing the empty whisky glass down on the coffee-table in front of her, standing up to move only inches away from him as she looked up unflinchingly into his face.

  His guarded look flickered and died, to be replaced by—by what? Uncertainty? Wariness? Hope?

  It was all three of those, giving March the confidence to reach up and gently caress one hard cheek before standing on tiptoe and kissing him gently on the lips.

  Will groaned low in his throat, his arms moving to gather her close against him as he deepened the kiss, parting her lips beneath his as he drank in her fullness.

  March needed no further encouragement, her arms moving about his shoulders as she pressed close against him, her hands tangled in the blond silkiness of the hair at his nape, wanting this kiss to just go on and on.

  But it didn’t, of course, Will raising his head with obvious reluctance as he looked down at her quizzically. ‘I hope that was a yes to my marriage proposal…?’

  He still sounded so unsure, so unlike his usual confident self, that March could only gaze up at him.

  ‘This is not the time for one of your uncharacteristic silences, March,’ he told her frustratedly, his hands firm on her upper arms as he shook her slightly. ‘I love you. The last three days without you have shown me only too clearly that I don’t want to live my life without you in it—’

  ‘Even though I’m rude, and prickly, and outspoken, and far too quick to jump to conclusions—’

  ‘All that!’ he confirmed laughingly. ‘You’re March,’ he added simply. ‘Every delectable, contrary, stubborn inch of you—and I love every part of you!’ he assured her huskily, his gaze intent on the beauty of her face.

  ‘Oh, Will,’ she choked emotionally, her hands tightening on the broadness of his shoulders. ‘I love you too. I love you so much! This last three days have been—’

  ‘Forget them,’ he cut in decisively. ‘If you say yes to my marriage proposal we will never be apart again!’ His eyes glowed deeply blue as he looked down at her.