Wild Melody. Sara Craven

down the hall to the room where she had met Jason Lord.

      He was standing leaning on the mantelpiece, with a glass in his hand. He looked up as she entered, and she paused nervously waiting for some barbed remark. But the silence stretched on endlessly, and she felt oddly disappointed.

      ‘Would you like a drink?’ There was a formal note in his voice.

      ‘No—thank you.'

      ‘Right.’ He finished what was left in his glass and put it down. ‘We'll be off, then.’ He took the stole from her and placed it round her shoulders. She was acutely aware of his touch on her bare skin and moved away restively.

      They drove for a long time in silence. Catriona kept stealing looks at her companion, but his eyes were firmly fixed on the road and all she saw was his hard profile. He too had a chin, she noticed, and a nasty habit of expecting his own way to match it. Which reminded her of the worry that had been nagging her all afternoon even through her bewildered enjoyment of choosing the dress, and its underwear and accessories, and the hair-do and beauty treatment that followed.

      ‘This dress is outrageous,’ she informed him.

      ‘I wouldn't say so.’ He still did not look at her. ‘A little more revealing than you're probably used to, that's all.'

      ‘I didn't mean that, and you know it,’ said Catriona hotly. ‘I mean the price.'

      ‘Don't worry about it,’ he told her lightly. ‘After all, it's in the family, isn't it? And Jeremy's mother has an account there, as you may have gathered. We could charge it to her, if you'd rather.'

      ‘We'll do no such thing——’ Catriona began, then saw his lips twitch. ‘You're laughing at me again,’ she said uncertainly.

      ‘A little,’ he said. ‘Why not forget about the cost of it all, and start thinking about what you're going to say to Jeremy. Surely that's more important than anything else. Concentrate on the dialogue, darling, and forget the props. They're just incidental.'

      ‘I wish you wouldn't call me darling!'

      ‘I know you do.’ He sent her a swift glance, one mocking brow raised. ‘And so—darling—I do it all the more.'

      ‘Just to annoy me?'

      ‘You do rise to the bait so beautifully—and so regularly,’ he said.

      Catriona lifted her chin and stared through the windscreen into the darkness. Jeremy's parents, she had learned, lived just outside Staines near the river. She supposed that one day she would be familiar with this route, and with the house they were bound for. Now she felt totally at sea, and it frightened her to realise that she was wholly dependent on this stranger beside her. After all, she only had his word for it that there was a party at all. He could be taking her anywhere.

      The car slowed steadily, then turned through a pair of white gates and up a shallow drive.

      Catriona saw the lights of a large house and heard the steady beat of music close at hand. There were a lot of other cars parked in the drive and on the gravelled sweep in front of the house, and she sat quietly as Jason manoeuvred his vehicle into one of the remaining spaces.

      When he opened the door for her, she sat still for a moment, marshalling her courage.

      ‘Cold feet?’ he inquired.

      ‘I'm perfectly warm, thanks,’ she returned, deliberately misunderstanding him. His hand closed round hers as he helped her out of the car, and for a moment she almost returned the pressure of his fingers. But just in time she remembered who he was, and the treatment she had been forced to put up with from him, and snatched her hand away.

      ‘Come along then, Miss Muir,’ he said, and she was startled to hear the harsh note back in his voice. ‘This is what you wanted. Make the most of it.'

      Inside the house, Catriona was startled to find a uniformed maid waiting to take their coats.

      ‘Don't worry,’ Jason murmured. ‘She's not permanent staff. Just hired for the big occasion.'

      He guided her expertly through groups of chatting people in the hall into a large room with a bar at one end. Catriona noticed that French windows stood open at one side, leading apparently to a big conservatory.

      ‘There's Clive—never far from the drinks,’ he remarked. ‘Brace yourself, darling, you're about to meet my respected brother, and Jeremy's papa.'

      Clive Lord was shorter than his brother with slightly receding hair and a developing paunch. He looked much older than Jason too, but in his smile Catriona thought she could detect a reminder of Jeremy, and she warmed to him.

      ‘I don't think I've seen you here with Jason before, have I, Miss—er—Muir?’ he asked, handing her a glass filled with a glowing red liquid.

      ‘Please call me Catriona,’ she said, smiling up at him, and ignoring Jason's sardonic smile.

      ‘I don't suppose you know how honoured you are, Clive,’ he murmured. ‘When's the big moment, by the way?'

      ‘Oh—shortly.’ Clive looked round in a harassed manner. ‘I don't see the need for all this fuss. We had the same nonsense in Yorkshire last week. But you know Marion—not to be outdone, of course.'

      ‘Of course,’ Jason agreed smoothly. ‘Come on, my sweet, we don't want to miss anything.'

      Catriona felt her temper rising. ‘What's going on?’ she asked heatedly. ‘Where's Jeremy? I must see him alone for a few moments.'

      ‘We're going to see him now. I should put that revolting concoction Clive gave you down if I were you. There'll be champagne in the next room.'

      ‘I don't want any champagne,’ Catriona insisted almost wildly.

      ‘Oh, but you must. It's traditional, and the fun's just beginning.’ He drew her across the hall into a room packed with people. It was quite true—there was champagne, and Catriona took the glass she was offered almost mechanically.

      ‘That's the ticket.’ Clive appeared beside them beaming. ‘Now I must do my stuff, I suppose.’ He went off through the crowd, and just as Catriona was turning to Jason, a demand to be taken to Jeremy at once framing on her lips, a sudden hush fell.

      Startled, she looked round, and then—at last—she saw Jeremy. He was standing at the end of the room with two women. One of them, Catriona was immediately convinced, was his mother. She was tall and fair-haired, wearing an expensive dress, and stood toying nervously with her rings. Although she was smiling, Catriona had the feeling that in repose Mrs Lord's face would have a rather peevish expression, and she felt slightly chilled. At the same time she was registering incredulously that the other woman—hardly more than a girl, in fact—was clinging possessively to Jeremy's arm. He was in evening dress, and he had shaved off his beard and cut his hair. He looked quite different, Catriona thought with dismay, then he turned to the pretty, rather plump blonde at his side, smiling at something she had said, and his smile made him the familiar reassuring Jeremy again.

      Clive's voice rang out over the room.

      ‘And now, everyone—friends—if you'll raise your glasses, we'll drink a toast to Jeremy and Helen. Long life and every happiness!'

      Catriona stood numbly, her fingers clenched round the slender stem of the glass as Jeremy bent and kissed the girl, who smiled and held up her left hand so that everyone could see the glittering diamond ring adorning it.

      Catriona gave a little choking cry. The room dipped and blurred and she heard her glass smash to the parquet floor as she turned and fled. A startled maid stepped forward, as she gained the hall.

      ‘Excuse me, madam——’ she began as Catriona began blindly to wrestle with the ornate ring that served as a front door handle. Her hands were slippery with perspiration, and she felt hysteria rising within her. Then Jason's hands were gripping her shoulders, and his voice was saying calmly, ‘Come into the conservatory, darling. It's cooler there,