Alone in the guest-room Beth had given her Jamie walked over to the window and stared out across the countryside, without seeing any of its beauty. Did this girl, this Amanda, know what Jake was really like, or like her had she been deceived? That lazily mocking smile, those cool green eyes that suddenly could turn to fire, that mouth that could…
Closing her eyes to blank out her thoughts, she clung dizzily to the window ledge. Dear God, she was over this, over it. She was a different person now from the innocent trusting fool Jake had so cruelly deceived. He no longer had the power to affect her in any way at all.
So why was her heart pounding so heavily? Why was she remembering with such devastating clarity the feel of his mouth against her own?
Her only salvation when she realised the truth had been the knowledge that at least no one else knew what a fool she had been. No one else knew that they had been lovers; that Jake had whispered words of love to her and then promised to marry her, only for her to discover from his mistress that he was actually marrying her because he knew that his father was splitting his estate between the two of them; that she would have as many shares in the company as Jake himself. At first she hadn’t wanted to believe Wanda’s allegations, had indeed thought that the other woman was simply jealously maligning Jake; but when she had come round to his flat to tell him what had happened, the first thing she had seen as she walked in through the unlocked door had been Jake and Wanda in each other’s arms.
Of course Jake had seen her, had called out to her, but she hadn’t stopped, running frantically back to her car, and driving from York to Queensmeade as though the devil himself were at her heels.
Mark and her mother had been on holiday at the time—a month’s holiday in Bermuda—which was why she and Jake had not said anything to anyone about their plans, wanting to save the surprise until their parents returned. She had been working on a part-time basis for a York-based firm of interior designers, but too humiliated and hurt to face Jake she had changed her mind on reaching home, knowing that he would come after her, and instead had turned her car in the direction of the southbound motorway.
Her job didn’t pay well, but she had an allowance from Mark, and enough money in her bank account to pay for a room in an inexpensive hotel for long enough for her to sort out her life.
An unaddressed letter to her employers explained to them that she wanted to work in London, and a longer, more detailed one to her parents outlined to them her plans for the future, and a third told Jake that she had made a mistake, that she wasn’t ready to settle down, that she wanted her freedom and a career. She was too proud and hurt to mention Wanda.
By the time her mother and stepfather had returned from Bermuda three weeks later she had enrolled herself at classes to learn the painting techniques she now based her business on; had found herself a third-share in a flat from the notice board at the college; had had her long hair cut to shoulder length; and had totally re-vamped her wardrobe, putting away for ever the carefree coltish image of her youth, and emerging in three short weeks as the coolly sophisticated woman she was determined she was going to be.
Her parents had been a little surprised, but she had explained away the suddenness of her departure by saying that she had been torn over what to do for several months but had only finally made the decision while they were away.
They were upset at first; Mark in particular had wanted her to stay close to home. There was no need after all for her to earn her own living, and although there were many times in those early months when she would have given anything to go back, the thought of facing Jake stopped her. She had made herself a vow the evening she left his flat after discovering him with someone else that when she saw him again she would feel absolutely nothing for him—nothing at all.
The intervening six years had been busy ones. At college she had become very friendly with another student, Ralph Howard, and Ralph was now her business partner. They got on very well together, their relationship an easy undemanding one. Several of their friends thought they were or had been lovers, but that was not the case. Ralph was the brother she had never had, her relationship with him quite different from the worshipping adoration she had had for Jake.
Their hard work had paid off and now they were very successful with very busy social lives. Many of the parties they attended were business functions to which they went together. They made a striking couple, Jamie knew. Ralph was tall and blond with a year-round tan and laughing blue eyes. He looked more like a rugby player than anything else, muscular and large-boned. It always amused him to see other men treating Jamie like a fragile piece of china. At five-four with small bones and tiny narrow feet she looked far more frail than she was.
She never discouraged anyone from thinking they were lovers. It was a good way of keeping unwanted males at bay without causing offence. She knew that Ralph was curious about her sex life—or lack of it—but he respected her privacy. He knew nothing about what lay in the past. She never mentioned Jake to him, although he knew about her family background; about the marriage of her mother to her employer, then a widower with an eleven-year-old son. Beth and Richard had met Ralph. He had come to Sarah’s christening with her. Jake had been godfather, but apart from one brief moment when he had held the baby and then passed her over to Jamie they had kept resolutely apart.
Her mouth curling a little, Jamie reflected that it must be rather galling to be revealed in one’s true colours as Jake had been. Galling or not, it had not stopped him looking at her with cool mockery, she remembered now. Really, his arrogance was unbelievable! Had he ever thought what could have happened if she had gone to Mark and told him that his son had deliberately seduced her, deliberately allowed her to believe that he loved and wanted her, when all he wanted was her share of his father’s wealth?
But she hadn’t been able to do that. Both her mother and Mark adored Jake, and it would have broken Mark’s heart to learn the truth. Above all else Mark was a truly honourable man, and to discover that his son was not would hurt him unbearably. So she had kept quiet, forcing herself to make for herself a new life, to give herself new motivation, to tell herself and make herself believe that what she really wanted from life was a career and success.
The late autumn dusk was fast closing to evening, reminding her how advanced the year was. The familiar pain thinking of the past always brought her was deepened by a feeling of sombre despair. It was six years ago, for God’s sake, and still it was no better, all she had achieved was the ability to close herself off from the pain and pretend to the rest of the world that it simply didn’t exist.
Other girls of her age endured similar traumas and recovered; went on to meet other men, make other relationships; why was it that she had never found anyone who could displace Jake from her heart?
Perhaps it was because for her the sense of betrayal had been so much greater, heightened by the fact that Jake was not only her first love and lover, but also the person closest to her in every other emotional way, so that his treachery had robbed her not only of a lover but of a brother, a friend and a secure rock to cling to all in one go.
What made it worse was the fact that she had loved him so crazily, believed in him so implicitly that she had never for one moment placed the slightest credence on Wanda’s revelations. After all, she knew there had been other girls in his life before her; he was eight years older than her; he had been away at university, and above and beyond that he was a man who possessed such a powerful aura of sexual magnetism that living the life of a celibate would be practically impossible for him.
Pity the poor girl who did marry him, she thought acidly. He wouldn’t remain faithful for very long, especially not to a naïve nineteen-year-old.
Although she had not seen it when they made love, looking back now she recognised that there had always been an edge of constraint in the way he touched her, a faint holding back, which she suspected now came from the fact that he had doubtless found her inexperience something of a trial. At the time she had not been aware of this, giving herself to him with a blissful joy that recognised nothing other than the unbelievable fact that he loved her. The merest touch of his fingers against her skin had been enough to set her alight with pleasure