The Faithful Wife. Diana Hamilton

Promise!’

      His heart missed a beat then thundered heavily on. He turned to her with warning reluctance, and for the first time he allowed himself to scan the face that had so relentlessly haunted his dreams over the past year. The lovely lines were taut with strain, the perfect skin white and transparent, terror lurking deep in those spellbinding eyes.

      And for the first time very real misgivings flooded icily through him as he met his own fallibility. She’d been telling the truth—as she saw it. She wouldn’t involve the police, set an area search in motion simply to save her pride. And if she had a mobile she wouldn’t be asking him to do the phoning.

      ‘Tell them I’ll be here. I’ll wait.’ Her voice was ragged.

      ‘OK,’ he said roughly. He turned, then looked back at her. ‘I’ll contact them. And I’ll be back.’

      He saw her sag with relief, tears starting in her eyes, and resisted the violent urge to take her in his arms, hold her for a moment and comfort her. He walked quickly into the darkness, his throat tight, dragging his mind away from her.

      Thank God it had at least stopped snowing. Even so, there was a good inch of the treacherous stuff underfoot. Swinging into the Range Rover, he reached for the key he’d left in the ignition then put both hands on the wheel, thinking hard.

      The events of the last few minutes told him that Bella was desperately worried over her sister’s non-appearance, that her story was true. She really believed that something dreadful must have happened. The shock of discovering that had driven Kitty’s involvement out of his head, while anxiety over Evie’s fate had never allowed it to enter Bella’s.

      In all probability they were both the innocent victims of a cruel conspiracy. He’d get to the nearest phone and contact Kitty before he involved the police. If his gut feeling was right, there would be no need.

      There was a torch on the passenger seat and he used it to have a look at the time. A few minutes after six. Too early for Kitty and Harry to have gone out for the evening. Too late for her to be shopping. He should catch her at home.

      He turned the key in the ignition and nothing happened.

      

      Bella knew she had to pull herself together. Somehow. She moved briskly round the lamplit room, tweaking curtains, plumping up cushions that didn’t need the attention, hoping the futile activities would settle her mind. A mind that was seething with all that was going on.

      The shock of seeing Jake, here of all places. His cynical accusations. His cold admission that her absence from his life was a relief. Add Evie’s disappearance to that little lot and you got a brain that was on the brink of blowing.

      Sucking in her breath, she flew to the dying fire and carefully placed a few small logs on the embers. If Evie came back the poor love would be cold—She caught the thought, altered it savagely. Not if—when.

      The police would soon be out looking for her, and that was an enormous consolation. She was scatty enough to have run out of petrol. Nothing more disastrous than that. And Jake had promised to come back and report, to wait with her.

      The thought was deeply comforting. Yet she didn’t want it to be! She wanted him out of her mind. It was the only way.

      She turned from the replenished fire, satisfied that the fresh logs were beginning to flame, and Jake walked back in, his face black with temper.

      As before, they faced each other wordlessly, until Bella found her voice and whispered, ‘Did you find a phone?’

      He couldn’t have had time, surely? He’d only walked out a matter of minutes ago. She put a hand to her heart as if to still the suddenly violent pounding. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

      He looked as if he wanted to shake her to within an inch of her life. His black eyes were ferocious, his jaw clenched, dark with the perpetual five o’clock shadow she had sometimes teased him about in former, happier, long-gone times, knowing he had to shave twice a day if he wasn’t to look like a hooligan with piratical tendencies.

      ‘Hardly.’ His voice was dry. Coming further into the room, he removed his coat, tossed it over the back of one chair and sprawled down in the other. The hard line of his mouth told her he was controlling his temper, but only just; her head was beginning to ache, and there was an insistent thrumming noise inside her ears.

      Both hands flew up to either side of her head, as if to hold it on her shoulders, as she rasped out thinly, ‘What are you doing?’

      Sprawled out in a chair while Evie was missing somewhere on the bleak, cold mountainside! Oh, how could he? Long legs in soft dark cords stretched out endlessly, only the tense, hard line of the hunky shoulders beneath the Aran sweater testifying that his pose wasn’t as relaxed as he was trying to pretend it was.

      ‘You tell me,’ he came back, talking through his teeth. ‘I’m in your hands. You win, for the moment.’ He gave her a thin, completely humourless smile. ‘Remove the distributor cap, take the rotor arm and no one’s going anywhere. Evie’s final chore before she high-tailed it back to civilisation? Neat. But not neat enough. I’m walking out of here at first light. You can do what you damn well like!’

      CHAPTER THREE

      ‘I’LL go with you,’ Bella said in a tight, emphatic voice. She would begin the long walk right now; her need to get away from here, and him, was enormous. But she knew it would be madness. Better and far less hazardous to make the trek in daylight.

      A strange calmness filled her. A kind of numbness. Everything began to slot into place, like the pieces of a hitherto exasperating jigsaw puzzle. She didn’t feel any pride in the achievement. On the contrary, she felt used, betrayed. A fool.

      ‘We’ve both been set up.’ Was he feeling the same way? she wondered with a stab of sympathy. But she would need to develop a far more inventive mind to imagine him feeling foolish. Or used. He was always very much in control. Of everything.

      She glanced up at him, but his features told her nothing. Blank. So what was new? Hadn’t he always closed her out, guarding his emotions, keeping them to himself? Except when they’d been making love, she recalled unwillingly, feeling the colour come and go on her face. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, her voice thick.

      She didn’t know why she was apologising. His sister was just as much to blame as hers. She heaved another log onto the fire, for something to do with her hands. She didn’t know where to put herself; the sudden, swamping embarrassment at having been forced into this situation was intense.

      He said nothing. Just stared at her. Bella verbalised her thoughts, putting everything in order, hoping that that would help her cope.

      ‘They’ve been friends ever since we married. But you know that, of course. They obviously hatched the idea of getting us back together.’ She smiled thinly, an acknowledgement of the vain futility of that forlorn hope. ‘Kitty was to get you here, on some pretext or other, while my devious sister drove me down and dumped me. It would have been Evie who hung around until she knew you’d arrived, then spiked your car.’

      She saw one dark brow slowly rise at that, but didn’t grasp the significance—not then. She moved, heading for the kitchen. ‘I’ll make tea. But I warn you, there won’t be any milk.’ She was trying to be adult about this—this dreadful situation. They were in it together whether they liked it or not, until the morning anyway, and there was no point in behaving like a pair of squabbling children, sulking and not speaking to each other.

      ‘Try the fridge,’ he offered drily. He’d followed her through. She wished he hadn’t. It was easier to act normally if there was space between them.

      Bella plugged in the kettle she’d filled earlier. It felt more like a hundred years than a couple of hours ago since she’d heard the car arrive and had confidently expected Evie to come in out of the cold, needing a hot cup of tea.

      She shook her head slightly at his suggestion,