Act Of Betrayal. Sara Craven

said, with cool politeness. ‘As I said, Mrs Fraser, he seems to have business in the area. Would you like me to take the tray in as well.’

      The housekeeper sniffed, and turned back to her baking. ‘If it wouldn’t trouble you too much.’

      ‘Oh, you’ve only brought two cups,’ Celia exclaimed as Laura set the tray down on the low table which fronted the sofa. ‘But I meant you to join us sweetie, naturally.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Laura said evenly. ‘But I have things to do.’

      ‘Nothing that can’t wait, I’m sure.’ Celia gave her a limpid look. ‘You’re being rather silly, you know. We’re bound to be seeing a lot of Jason once the Tristan projects get under way locally. You may as well get accustomed to the fact, and have tea with us in a civilised manner.’

      ‘Civilised’ was fast becoming her least favourite word, Laura reflected bitterly. She said tautly, ‘Some other time.’

      ‘There’s no time like the present,’ Jason said smoothly. He rose to his feet, his lean body straightening in one lithe movement. ‘Sit down, Laura. I’m sure your cousin won’t mind fetching another cup.’

      To judge by the expression which fleetingly crossed Celia’s face, he’d made a big mistake there, Laura thought drily.

      She began, ‘I’ll get it …’ but his hands descended on her shoulders, pushing her firmly down on to the softness of the sofa.

      ‘I said sit down,’ he reminded her gently.

      Celia said with a small, artificial laugh. ‘How very masterful. I’d better go and get that cup.’

      The door closed behind her. Laura sat rigidly, her hands linked round her knees in a parody of relaxation, staring down at the carpet.

      ‘Alone together over the teacups,’ Jason said softly. ‘What a moment of pure nostalgia for us to savour, darling.’

      She said, ‘What the hell are you doing here, Jason? Whatever impression Celia may have given, you must know you’re not welcome in this house.’

      ‘On the contrary,’ he sounded amused. ‘I confidently expect to become the year’s most honoured guest. As for why I’m here—I came to return this to you.’ He took a small gold cylinder from his pocket, and tossed it towards her. ‘So, if you were imagining that I’d followed you here, drooling with lust, think again.’

      She looked stupidly down at her own lipstick. ‘Where …? Oh, it must have fallen out of my bag when I dropped it.’

      ‘Right,’ he said unemotionally. ‘And I assumed you might need it at some time.’

      ‘It could have waited,’ she said. ‘You could have given it to Fergie—my uncle’s secretary. Anyway, thank you.’

      ‘Graciously spoken,’ Jason approved sardonically. He sat down at the other end of the sofa, leaning back, very much at his ease. ‘Well, aren’t you going to pour the tea?’

      She shrugged. ‘I’m sure Celia would prefer to do that. She’s the hostess here, after all.’

      ‘And you’re what? The skivvy? The Cinderella of the establishment, with that lipstick the nineteen eighties equivalent of the glass slipper?’

      She bit her lip. ‘Please don’t be ridiculous. And don’t—don’t judge by appearances either. I’m glad to do anything I can for Uncle Martin. It’s the least I can offer in exchange for a roof over my head.’

      ‘You had a roof over your head,’ he said softly. ‘A perfectly adequate one—although not admittedly as flash as this.’ He looked around, his lips curling slightly. ‘What charming decor? Your choice?’

      He knew perfectly well that it wasn’t, she thought stormily. On one of their few visits to his house during their brief marriage, she’d told him how much she loved the quiet charm of this room, with the pale silk wallpaper and faded chintzes which had furnished it then.

      She said quietly, ‘It was time for a change.’

      ‘A telling phrase,’ he said cynically, and the colour ran into her face. She leaned forward and began to pour the tea, praying that her hand wouldn’t shake and betray her. ‘And not the only change,’ he added. ‘There’s also yourself. You’ve allowed yourself to become a shadow, instead of the flesh and blood I remember. If I painted you now, what would there be—just a soft blur in the background?’

      ‘You still paint?’ To her annoyance, the question was out before she could prevent it.

      ‘Sometimes.’ He sent her a cool smile as he took the cup from her. ‘If I can find a subject which appeals to me. I have to be more selective these days, now that my time is limited.’

      Underneath her confusion of anger and anxiety, she was conscious of the stirrings of regret. He’d been a truly talented painter, and his work had just started to sell, even though he’d refused to compromise his arresting, almost violent style. He’d believed in himself, and in his work, and it seemed impossible that now he’d relegated it to the role of a hobby, to be pursued in whatever leisure he allowed himself.

      As if he could read her thoughts, he said, ‘It was time for a change,’ mocking her with her own words.

      She drew a breath. ‘And—the change was Tristan Construction? How did that come about?’

      ‘Through the death of my father,’ he said expressionlessly. ‘The company belonged to him.’

      She swallowed. ‘I—I didn’t know. I’m sorry.’

      ‘Are you, Laura? I can’t imagine why. You never knew him. In fact, you didn’t even believe he existed.’ She was suddenly and chillingly aware of the anger in him, the violence just below the surface.

      She said tightly, ‘I had good reason—if you remember.’

      ‘Yes, I remember,’ he said too gently. ‘Every detail of the whole bloody mess is indelibly engraved on my memory, darling, believe me.’

      ‘You both look very fierce,’ Celia said from the doorway. ‘Would you rather throw this cup than drink out of it?’

      Laura said levelly, ‘I’d really prefer to do neither. So, if you’ll both excuse me.’

      She got up, and he watched her, his mouth smiling, but his eyes grim. He said, ‘Until later then.’

      ‘Later,’ she repeated.

      ‘The drinks party, sweetie,’ Celia chirped. ‘For the Tristan executives. I’ve decided to do my bit for Caswells at last. Aren’t you pleased?’

      ‘Over the moon,’ Laura said wildly, wondering why Celia hadn’t been strangled at birth.

      Celia pouted prettily. ‘Laura’s always telling me I don’t take sufficient interest in the company. But all that’s going to change from now on.’ She sent him a mischievously provocative look from under her lashes. ‘In fact, I’m going to take the most amazing interest in every aspect of its dealings.’ She giggled. ‘This party is only the start.’

      Jason smiled at her. ‘It should be a truly memorable evening for us all,’ he said.

      His tone was light, but over Celia’s blonde head, he looked at Laura, and his eyes were bleak with a warning it was impossible to ignore.

      She walked to the door, and left them alone together.

CHAPTER THREE

      SHE found she was still clutching the lipstick. She unclenched her hand, and put the little tube down on the dressing table in her room. It had left marks on her hand where she’d been gripping it, and she touched them almost wonderingly.

      She