The Barbarian's Bride. Alex RyderЧитать онлайн книгу.
Damien didn’t seem interested in pursuing the subject, and as he started leading her towards the bar she pulled him up. ‘I don’t want another drink, darling. I think I’d rather rather go home.’
He looked at her in surprise, then glanced at his watch. ‘It’s still early. I’ve got another chent to meet in half an hour.’
She gave him a weary smile. ‘Don’t worry about me, darling. I know how important your clients are to you. You stay and I’ll get a taxi home.’
‘No. I wouldn’t dream of it!’ he said indignantly. ‘You stand right here while I fetch your coat.’
She restrained him once more. ‘You’re going to make me feel guilty. The fact is that I’ve got a bit of a headache. I need an early night for a change. You stay here and enjoy yourself.’
He frowned. ‘I’m not here to enjoy myself, Janene. I hate these damn parties, if you want to know the truth. But mine isn’t a nine-to-five job. Really important deals aren’t done in offices…’
She soothed his ruffled feathers with an understanding smile. ‘I know, I know. They’re done over expenseaccount lunches and at social events and parties like this. But you’ll never get rich standing here talking to me. Now, just phone for a taxi while I go upstairs and get my coat.’
He looked at her uncertainly for a moment, then he kissed her on the cheek. ‘You’re a girl in a million, Janene. I’ll make all this up to you when we get married.’
Thirty minutes later she was back in the peace and quiet of her flat. After a shower, she wrapped herself in a bath-robe and settled down in front of the electric fire with a hot, milky drink.
Her encounter with Kassim had left her feeling tense and jumpy, and when the phone suddenly rang she almost leapt off the settee in agitation.
‘Hi. How’s the headache?’
She relaxed at the sound of Damien’s voice. ‘Still there. I’ve taken a couple of aspirins.’ There was a lot of background noise. ‘Did you meet your client?’
‘Yes. And now I’m leaving.’ He hesitated a moment, then went on hopefully, ‘Would you like me to drop round? I can fill your hot-water bottle. Fetch your teddy.’
She smiled to herself. Damien wasn’t a demanding lover. He was considerate, and sex provided them with mutual satisfaction. It could be the very therapy that she needed right now. ‘Well…it sounds like a wonderful idea, darling,’ she murmured. ‘But I really am tired. And I wouldn’t want to fall asleep in the middle of youknow-what.’
‘Yeah… That would really put a dent in my pride.’ His voice was filled with wry amusement. ‘In that case, I’d better not take the chance.’
Feeling that she had somehow to make it up to him, she suggested quietly, ‘Perhaps tomorrow? We can stay in. I’ll make dinner and get some wine.’
‘Sorry, darling. It sounds great, but I won’t be able to make it.’ There was a genuine note of regret in his reply. ‘I’m leaving first thing in the morning. I have to go north for a few days on business and I won’t be back till Saturday.’
Her heart sank. Everything seemed to be going wrong. First that dark stranger with his thinly veiled threat, and now the prospect of being left on her own for the best part of a week.
Damien’s voice came again, cautiously optimistic. ‘I thought it would be a good idea if you went down to the cottage in Kent. It would give you a chance of a rest. I can drive straight down there and join you on Saturday. Then we can spend the following week together.’
She immediately brightened up. ‘That’s a brilliant idea, darling. I’ll pack a few things and leave the day after tomorrow.’
They spoke for a few more minutes, discussing details, then she hung up. Finishing her drink, she went to the window and peered down into the darkened street below. Finally, satisfied that there was no one remotely looking like Kassim Riffik hanging about in the shadows, she drew the curtains, put the safety-chain on the door and went to bed. All right, she told herself firmly, perhaps she was being childish—but there was no sense in taking any chances.
IN THE morning, over breakfast, Janene made up her mind to leave for the cottage that very day. There was no point in staying here alone with nothing to do. If she went down today she could give the place a good clean and airing, and perhaps do a bit of decorating before Damien arrived.
But first there was the lunch-date with Sally. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but she didn’t like breaking promises. It wasn’t that she had anything against Sally. They’d been the best of friends, as well as being business partners, in the past. But it was the past she was trying to forget, and a meeting with Sally would only resurrect buried memories and guilt.
She tidied the flat, changed from jeans and sweater into her favourite pale cream linen suit, then packed her suitcase. Finally she locked up the flat, then went downstairs and put her suitcase in the boot of her car. Knowing the futility of trying to find a parking space in the West End, she left the car in the mews garage and went in search of a taxi.
The Red Candle Grill and Bar had been a favourite haunt of theirs in the old days, and as her eyes got used to the subdued lighting she saw that the place hadn’t changed much.
Neither had Sally. Still the same restless, youthful energy, although she had to be in her late twenties by now. Still the same mass of tight, black curls, and large, pink-framed glasses. She was wearing a smartly cut business suit in charcoal-grey and at the moment she was somehow managing to look pleased and slightly annoyed at the same time.
‘So what’s the matter?’ she demanded as Janene settled herself opposite. ‘Have I got the plague or something? Four times I phoned last week and four times you said you were busy. We’re old friends, right? Old friends should never be too busy for a chat and a meal together.’
Janene lowered her eyes and murmured, ‘I’m sorry. Things have been a little hectic lately.’
‘Hmm… Busy social life, eh?’
The scepticism in the voice made her wince. She should have known better than to try to fob Sally off with a lie. Sally was too perceptive.
Sally tossed the menu across the table. ‘I’m having the veal.’
‘Then I’ll have the same. I hope it’s as good as it used to be.’
‘It is. Take my word for it.’ Sally beckoned a waiter, gave the order, then settled back in her seat with her martini. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me how the business is doing?’
She smiled. ‘Of course. How are things?’
‘Huh!’ Sally snorted. ‘I wish you hadn’t asked, but since you have I’ll tell you. I’m standing on tiptoes and the water is up to my chin.’ She sighed and shrugged. ‘It’s tough for everyone in this damned recession. I shouldn’t complain. At least I can still afford to eat here.’ She laughed. ‘Do you remember the greasyspoon we used to eat in up in Camden?’
Janene nodded and felt a tug of nostalgia for the old days. Camden, in North London. That was where it had all started…
They’d first met while browsing around the stalls in the street-market, and they’d taken an instant liking to each other. Over coffee and hamburgers in a cafe, they’d bemoaned the limited choice of goods on offer in the market and had decided there and then to go into business for themselves. They’d pooled their capital and opened a stall specialising in unusual costume jewellery and accessories. Within two years they’d owned a string of boutiques across London.
In those days she’d been just as single-minded and aggressive