Sandra Marton - Mistresses - Bound with Gold / Bought with Emeralds

‘The same age that I was when I married the first time,’ he commented. ‘How old was your husband?’

‘Four years older than me. How old was your wife?’ Regan retaliated, before realising that it was hardly a polite question to ask in front of his future mother-in-law.

‘Twenty-four.’ He tipped his head in acknowledgment of her slight blink of shock. ‘I wonder how many other uncanny coincidences lurk in our pasts. Children?’

Her flinch was barely perceptible, except to a hawkish gaze. ‘No.’

‘A mutual decision?’ he murmured.

‘Isn’t that what marriage is about?’ she snapped.

Hazel’s forehead wrinkled. ‘I remember Michael telling me one day when he dropped in here with Frank after showing some buyers around the site that he definitely didn’t want to be tied down with children until you were both well established in your respective careers. He felt very strongly about it. And, of course, he was so very keen for you to graduate as soon as ever you could, Regan. He joked that he wanted a wife to be proud of, one that he could boast about at the country club!’

It had been no joke. Image had been everything to Michael. And the demands of her full-time study, her part-time job and the chores around the house with which he was always too busy to assist had ensured she rarely had the time to keep tabs on his whereabouts. Even though she had begun to yearn for a baby, Michael had flatly refused to even discuss it.

‘And what did he envisage you doing while he was busy boasting about you in the bar of the country club?’ asked Joshua with painfully acute perception.

‘If you don’t mind I’d rather not talk about it,’ she said, casting a bleak look at Hazel, who instantly leapt to her aid.

‘Of course you don’t want to, dear,’ she said, patting her hand. ‘No sense in dwelling on what can’t be changed. It’s time to put the past behind you and think of the future. Speaking of which, Joshua—do you know where Carolyn is? I need to consult her about supper but I haven’t been able to track her down—not that that’s so very surprising in this crush! The naughty girl didn’t tell me she’d been so casual with the invitations.’

‘I believe she was with Chris, near the conservatory.’

‘Oh.’ Hazel’s beringed fingers moved up to play restlessly with her string of pearls, her smile dimming. ‘I didn’t realise he was going to be here—I thought he was on duty this weekend.’

‘He apparently swapped with someone else. He’s staying the night with me at Palm Cove.’

‘I’ll go and look for Carolyn, if you like,’ offered Regan, seizing on the excuse to escape her forced interrogation.

‘We’ll all go,’ Joshua was swift to respond, and as he gently shepherded the women before him he leaned close to the back of Regan’s head and whispered, ‘I meant what I said: stay away from my brother; he needs no encouragement to flirt. If you do stir up any trouble, you’ll have me to deal with…’

It was easier said than done. In the huge house and grounds it should have been easy to avoid someone, but Christopher Wade seemed to have developed a built-in radar that had him gravitating towards Regan with dismaying regularity—usually when Joshua and Carolyn were somewhere in the vicinity—combined with a thick-skinned good humour that refused to allow her to politely shake him off.

Later, when the guests were beginning to thin out, Regan sought her hostess out and asked if she could help with any of the clearing up before she slipped away to bed.

‘Oh, heavens, no. The caterers will deal with most of the debris and Alice has an army of helpers coming in in the morning to help tidy up the house and gardens. You go off and have a good rest. And don’t worry about getting up too early in the morning—we usually have breakfast at nine on a Saturday, but tomorrow I’ve told Alice to give us a brunch at eleven so we can all have a good lie-in.’

But when she tried to fade up the stairs Chris was there, dogging her heels.

‘I’ll walk you to your room.’

‘I’m not likely to get lost!’

‘No, but you could be waylaid by a gang of ghostly bandits. A creaking old rabbit warren like this could harbour all sorts of nefarious characters lurking amongst the shadows.’

‘Yes, and I think I’m looking at one of them right now,’ said Regan wryly as they walked along the hall, their footsteps muffled on the runner which ran the length of the polished floorboards. With his white suit glowing brighter every time they passed one of the glass wall-lamps, he made a very stylish ghost.

‘I’ll have you know that as a doctor I have an impac—an impeccable character,’ he enunciated carefully.

‘You’ve also had too much to drink,’ she realised, as they came to a halt beside her door.

He laid his right hand on his heart. ‘Alas, it’s true. I cannot tell a lie. I’m tanked to the gills.’ He used his other hand to open her door with a flourish. ‘Would you like me to come in and check for bogeymen under your bed?’

‘I wouldn’t like you to get your nice suit dirty,’ she said, stepping over the threshold to switch on the light, and turning with her body square in the door to prevent him following.

‘I could take it off.’ He began to unbutton the jacket.

‘Good night, Chris.’

‘Yes, push off, Chris. You’ve gone as far as either of you intend to go,’ came a midnight-dark voice from behind him. ‘So cut the clowning and take a hike back down the stairs where you belong. They’re serving coffee on the back terrace. You might want a cup or three.’

Chris turned with a fat chuckle. ‘Well, surprise, surprise! Look who’s here. Keeping tabs on me, bro?’

Joshua’s gaze was steely and calm, his stance relaxed and yet also finely balanced. ‘Always.’

Chris snickered, even as he obeyed the silent command. ‘Night, Regan.’ He gave her a sloppy salute as he turned away. “Ware the bogeyman!’

Regan watched him go with puzzled eyes, wondering what he was so smug about, what it was he thought he had achieved. She cast a fleeting look at Joshua, not quite meeting his eyes.

‘Well…goodnight.’

She closed the door in his face, but she had only a few seconds to savour her small victory before it flew open again, and Joshua strolled in with an arrogance that immediately made her vibrate with outrage.

‘You could have knocked!’

‘Why? We both know you wouldn’t have opened it.’ He walked around the room, looking at the white flounced cover on the single bed, the half-open wardrobe displaying her small collection of clothes on hangers, the array of toiletries neatly arranged on the mirrored dressing table.

‘Perhaps because I didn’t want to let you in,’ she said with withering sarcasm, watching his profile as he picked up a paperback from beside the bed. ‘Would you mind not handling my things?’

He turned the book over with careful deliberation, stroking his fingers across the covers, touching every inch of the available surface before he just as deliberately set it down, satisfied he had delivered his silent message. He would handle whatever he liked, whenever he liked…

Including her? Regan felt a quiver of guilty excitement.

‘I did warn you not to flirt with Chris. It seems that you chose to deal with the consequences…’

‘You also said he didn’t need encouragement!’ she pointed out tartly. ‘I didn’t invite him up here, you know—he followed me. And in spite of everything Hazel said, I’m virtually a paid employee—I can’t start off my first day by insulting the brother of the groom—’

He spun around on his heel and rapped out, ‘You’re a little ahead of yourself. I’m not actually a bridegroom until my wedding day.’