Wild Melody. Sara Craven

and Catriona did not have the strength to struggle any more. She allowed him to lead her across the room they had first entered to the French windows. He lifted one of the long beige velvet curtains, and she passed through like an automaton.

      Ordinarily Catriona would have delighted in the warm exotic scents and sights around her. Hanging lamps had been festooned across the glass roof, and the lights were reflected back from the banks of glossy leaves and petals and from a tiny sunken pool. Small brightly coloured fish darted among the pebbles and the lilies, and Catriona stood watching them, her mind registering with complete detachment every swift movement and ripple of the water. In spite of the more than mild atmosphere, she felt icy cold.

      ‘Here.’ Jason appeared, holding a glass which he thrust into her hand. ‘Drink this, and don't drop it this time. Caterers’ glasses are an expensive item, as you being a thrifty Scot should know.'

      Obediently she swallowed some of the amber liquid, then choked as the powerful spirit caught her throat. It was a violent revival, but it was what she needed, and it gave her the courage to face him.

      ‘You knew,’ she accused, her voice almost breaking. ‘You knew!'

      ‘Of course I did.’ He set one foot on the low parapet of the pool, and took a brief sip from his own glass.

      ‘And you didn't tell me?'

      ‘No.'

      ‘How could you be so cruel?’ she whispered, her eyes and throat smarting with the tears she wouldn't allow to fall.

      ‘I had to be cruel—to be kind,’ he said. His dark face was angry as he stared at her. ‘I did my level best to scare you off, to get rid of you, even. I told you to go back to Scotland, but no. Nothing gainsays Miss Catriona Muir once her mind is made up, does it?'

      ‘Why didn't you tell me the truth?’ she asked, trying to control her trembling voice.

      He looked at her steadily. ‘Because nothing on God's earth would have convinced you that it was the truth. You had Jeremy cast as the hero, and me, most definitely, as the villain of the piece. Any warning I had given you about Helen's existence you would have dismissed as having an ulterior motive, though God knows what makes you think I harbour any towards you,’ he added.

      She stood silent for a moment, torn between the justice of what he had said and the misery that was threatening to engulf her.

      ‘Here,’ he said quietly, as if he sensed her struggle, and passed her the white handkerchief from his breast pocket. This unexpected consideration was the final straw. She sank down on to a wicker lounger and let her tears have full rein at last.

      To her relief, he made no attempt to touch her, apart from taking the remains of the brandy from her. Except for the sudden flare of his lighter as he lit a cigarette, she was hardly aware of his presence.

      Eventually, as her self-control returned and the tearing sobs began to subside, she sat up slowly, dreading that he would be watching her, mocking her woebegone appearance, but he was merely sitting by the side of the pool, staring down at the immaculate toe of one of his black shoes.

      She forced herself to sound calm. ‘Who is she, please?'

      He glanced up. ‘Helen? Oh, the original poor little rich girl. Her father's in wool—the family live near Bradford. She met Jeremy in Kitzbuhl a couple of years ago.'

      ‘If he's known her all that time, how could he have been the way he was with me?’ she said slowly.

      He shrugged. ‘As you may have gathered, I've never had much time for Jeremy. He was damnably spoiled when he was a child. I don't think Clive ever realised how much until it was too late. Marion's a bit of a fool, and I've never thought her feelings go particularly deep, so maybe Jeremy takes after her.'

      ‘Just like that,’ she said unsteadily.

      ‘What do you want me to say?’ he countered, harshly. ‘It's all been a terrible mistake, and it's you he really loves? And all you have to do is go back in that room looking like the Queen of Elfland and he'll be yours for ever more?'

      ‘He did love me,’ Catriona whispered, her lips trembling. ‘He did. I know it.'

      ‘I daresay he did in his way for a while—if that's any consolation. But I can promise you this, even if he did love you as you believed, he still wouldn't give up Helen's money for you. And Marion wouldn't let him either.'

      ‘You devil,’ she said very distinctly.

      He gave a slight laugh. ‘Poor Cinderella! All the way to the ball to find Prince Charming's turned into a pumpkin, and you have to go home with Bluebeard.'

      Catriona stared down at the handkerchief she was still holding. It had his initials in the corner, she noticed, and she recalled that Jeremy's had been the same. Her eyes began to prick again.

      ‘Oh no,’ Jason Lord said decisively, and stood up. ‘I've had enough of that, Miss Muir. You've probably raised the humidity in here already and killed off Marion's prize specimens. Now we're going to do some straight talking.'

      ‘What is there to say?’ she said hopelessly. ‘I just can't understand why you brought me here—like this.’ She touched the shimmering length of her skirt with distaste.

      ‘Then you're even less perceptive than I gave you credit for,’ he said coldly. ‘That charming piece of nonsense you're wearing is a disguise. Do you think anyone here tonight gave you a second glance except as an extremely attractive young woman? If I'd just given you the address and allowed you simply to turn up in those damned jeans and that rucksack, it would have made a nine days’ wonder for all of them in there. Is that what you wanted? Everyone staring at you, and laughing—because they would have laughed, make no mistake about that, my child. Okay, so you've been humiliated, but no one knows that except the two of us. Oh—and Jeremy, I think,’ he added sarcastically as she turned startled eyes towards him. ‘I think he caught your misguided exit just now. He looked as if he'd just been poleaxed anyway. But to everyone else, you're just Jason's new girl, whether you like it or not.'

      ‘I must leave,’ she said.

      ‘Presently. We still have things to discuss.'

      ‘I have nothing to discuss with you, Mr Lord,’ she said quietly.

      He threw down his cigarette, stubbing it out with his shoe.

      ‘All right,’ he said. ‘You're hurt and you're angry because I've brought you down from Cloud Seven with a jolt. But you'd have been forced down eventually, Catriona, don't you see that? You came to London of your own free will, and you saw Jeremy as you insisted on doing. Now it's time to pick up the pieces. You weren't just crying for Jeremy just now, you know. You were crying for first love and all it means. Well first love isn't everything.'

      ‘Oh, I believe you,’ she said with bitter sarcasm. ‘I'm sure you're an expert. It must run in the family.'

      ‘You little bitch,’ he said slowly. ‘But even if you were right, at least I conduct my affairs with women who know what the score is. I don't take sweets from babies. Only a child could have been taken in by someone as callow as Jeremy.'

      ‘I suppose I deserved that,’ she said wearily. She held out her hand. ‘Goodbye, Mr Lord. It's been salutory, if nothing else.'

      He ignored the gesture. ‘How do you intend to leave here, and where do you propose to go?'

      Catriona was taken aback. ‘There are taxis, I suppose. And hotels.'

      ‘There are,’ he agreed. ‘But only if you have money. And some of the more respectable hotels also like you to have luggage.'

      Catriona was silent. It was like playing chess with an expert, she thought. Every move she tried to make was anticipated and blocked.

      ‘So let's look at the alternative,’ he went on calmly. ‘Go upstairs and repair your make-up and have the inevitable confrontation with Jeremy. Oh yes,’ he took her chin in his hand as she flinched involuntarily,