Second Tomorrow (18 page)

‘My reason for coming was to ask you outright if you’d any intention of going steady with that worn—er—with Mrs Wesley.’

His lips twitched at her slip but his eyes held disbelief. ‘You intended asking me that?’ he said.

‘I suppose I’d have found a diplomatic way, of course.’

The grey eyes lit with humour. ‘Even I cannot conceive of a diplomatic way in which you could
have asked a question like that. However, let’s not waste time on irrelevancies. If I
had
given you the answer you wanted what would you have done then?’

‘If you’d told me you weren’t serious about Mrs Wesley it was my intention to—to t-tell you I l-loved you. . . .’ She trailed off shyly, and sent him a covert glance from beneath her lashes.

‘So you did come to Silver Springs to talk about Stella?’

‘Yes.’

‘You told me a fib. You said you hadn’t.’

Clare bypassed that, saying quickly, ‘Why was she there, Luke? I mean, it wasn’t an occasion when you could use her to make me jealous, was it?’

Clare bypassed that, saying quickly, ‘Why was she there, Luke? I mean, it wasn’t an occasion when you could use her to make me jealous, was it?’

‘She came uninvited. She didn’t know I was using her, remember, and so she felt she’d be welcome if she called at my home.’

‘Had you no qualms about using her?’ asked Clare curiously.

He shook his head. ‘Not at all,’ he answered tightly.

‘You said you’d forgiven her—that you didn’t bear her a grudge.’

‘I forgave her because I was indifferent and I couldn’t bear her a grudge because if she hadn’t thrown me over I would not have been free to marry you.’ His eyes were tender as they looked down into hers, his mouth warm and strong against her quivering lips. After a little while he said ruefully, ‘I think, my love, that we’ve both been a little foolish.’

‘I know I have, and it took you to teach me that it’s futile to brood, and to live on memories.’

‘You don’t
live
on those sort of memories, Clare, darling. But the memories we shall have—well, they’ll be happy ones. I shall see to that.’

‘When did you start loving me?’ Clare could not help asking.

‘After about a month. I didn’t want to become interested in any woman—not seriously. But I must admit that even in the beginning, when you first came to Flamingo Cay, I found you attractive. So when Phil asked that favour of me it was no hardship. And after that I very soon realised that I was captivated. But at the same time I realised I had to fight a memory. You made me so angry and frustrated when you shirked the inevitable. I felt sure you loved me, and my trying to make you jealous was a last resort. It failed!’ His unconscious grip on her arm made her wince. ‘I felt I’d never win against that demented woman on whom you were wasting your pity!’

‘You
were sorry for her as well,’ she reminded him indignantly, ‘so don’t blame me for the way
I
feel!’

He gave her a little shake. ‘There’s a limit to pity. You don’t allow it to become the sole dictator of your actions.’

‘I was trying hard to put the memories behind me, Luke. But when Mrs Wesley came and you gave her so much of your attention, it hurt!’ There was a sudden break in her voice and a
tear glistened on her lashes. ‘I couldn’t bear to see you with her, smiling and—’

‘Dearest.’ Luke’s tender arms came about her and for a long moment Clare just stood close to him, her head against his breast. But after a while she looked up and said, ‘It was unfortunate that you heard what Mrs Weedall was saying.’

‘I was furious when I heard her say she’d like to share your room, and that she was expecting to be with you every evening. And then when she spoke of that photograph—’

‘Talking of Mrs Weedall,’ interrupted Clare hastily, ‘she’s got to be told that I’m not going home after all.’ She glanced at his watch. ‘We’re supposed to be leaving in less than an hour. I ordered a taxi to take us to the airport.’

‘There’s no reason why Mrs Weedall shouldn’t make use of it,’ returned Luke smoothly.

‘Oh, but—’ Clare shook her head vigorously. ‘What can I say to her, Luke? She’ll be heartbroken if I don’t go with her. She’ll be heartbroken anyway when she learns that I’m getting married. What shall I do?’

‘Tell her that you can’t go back to England with her because your husband won’t let you!’

‘Husband. . . .’ It sounded wonderful, thought Clare, her eyes glowing with love for him. But she had to say, ‘You’re not my husband yet, Luke.’

‘I shall be in a very short time. Do you want me to come with you to see Mrs Weedall?’

‘No, Luke—oh, dear,’ she added, distressed, ‘it’ll be the worst thing I have ever done!’

‘No it won’t; it’ll be the best thing you have ever done. Tell her that Phil will take her to the airport.’

‘I must go with her,’ she pleaded, looking at him with an expression that ought to have softened him but didn’t. His eyes and voice were inflexible as he said, ‘Phil will take her to the airport.’

‘But—’

‘Dear Clare,’ he broke in with some asperity, ‘can we forget Mrs Weedall for a moment while I kiss you?’ And without giving her the chance of saying anything he bent his head and kissed her passionately on the lips. She clung to him, carried on the tide of his ardour as in her own love and longing she curved her slender body to the arching of his.

‘My dear, dear love,’ he whispered huskily, his lips tender on her cheek. ‘When will you marry me?’

Her colour fluctuated adorably and she saw a nerve pulsating in his throat.

‘Just whenever you want, Luke,’ she answered shyly and, her eyes reflecting all that she felt for him, she lifted her face, inviting his kiss.