really imagined she could simply step back into the enchantment and find him waiting, like the prince in a fairy tale, to kiss her and make her somehow whole again? She lashed herself with contempt. To make the nightmare go away? As if it had all meant something more- something finer than the usual sordid, casual one-night stand?
I didn't know I had such a talent for fantasy, she told herself angrily. Or such a capacity for self-deception.
She hammered on the back door, barking her knuckles, taking a kind of perverse pleasure in the discomfort of it. One glance through the kitchen window revealed the big pine table stripped, and bare of any homely clutter.
The caretaker was no longer taking care, she thought, and realized for the first time how completely she'd relied on his being here for her, in this house which meant so much-how totally she'd needed to go into his arms and weep out her fear and confusion, to know the reality of his heart beating against hers.
And she wondered, not for the first time, what it had been like for him to wake and find her gone, without a word. She wondered if he'd cared, if he'd asked at the Bull for any clues to 'Susie Smith' or tried to trace her in some other way.
Or if, more likely, he'd just accepted it for what it was-a passing fling, without strings or regrets, a few hours of total irresponsibility, now, at this distance, barely remembered.
Except by me, Zanna thought bleakly, and perhaps I should be thankful that pregnancy's been the only consequence of this incredible piece of folly.
She sat down limply on the stone step, leaning her back against the heavy timber. Life moved on, she thought, and it was unwise even to look back, let alone walk back into the past and hope to find it unchanged.
But, although she hadn't admitted it until this moment, she now realized that she had hoped and she had believed. And that made her present sense of desolation even more overwhelming. And more absurd.
Tears scalded like dancing fireflies behind her closed eyelids. His name burned on her aching throat.
'Where are you?' she whispered painfully into the stillness. 'Jake, come back-I need you. Forgive me for running away-and help me, please. Oh, please...'
She heard her words vanish into the unmoving silence and become swallowed up there. And after a while she got up slowly and stiffly from the step and went back to her car.
She got back to London in the early afternoon. She hadn't hurried the return journey, her mind circling wearily on her problems throughout the miles. Although she still hadn't come up with any real solution, she acknowledged unhappily as she fitted her key into its lock. And stopped, her senses alerted by the pungent odor of cigar smoke.
'Father?' she said uncertainly as she walked into the living room. 'What are you doing here?'
'Waiting for you.' The bulk of Sir Gerald's frame outlined against the window spoke of menace. 'You dirty little slut.'
Zanna's mouth was suddenly dry. 'I don't understand.'
'Neither did I-not until I went into the bathroom and found that obscene-thing.' His eyes were like stone. Opaque, cold. 'I had Ben Wickham with me. Tessa had told me about the vomiting. I was concerned, naturally. I wanted him to look you over.'
Zanna cursed Tessa under her breath. 'I asked her not to tell you. I said I didn't want the company doctor...'
'Thank God I have some employees who are loyal.' He drew a breath. 'I couldn't believe it when Ben told me what that paraphernalia was for-what it meant.'
Zanna lifted her chin. 'You have no right to come in here, either of you, and pry into my life. How did you get in anyway?'
"This apartment belongs to the company. I have keys to all Westcott property. And thank the Lord we did find out about you. The whole situation can be taken care of at once, without fuss or any scandal. Ben's assured me of that.'
Zanna was very still. 'What are you talking
I didn't know I had such a talent for fantasy, she told herself angrily. Or such a capacity for self-deception.
She hammered on the back door, barking her knuckles, taking a kind of perverse pleasure in the discomfort of it. One glance through the kitchen window revealed the big pine table stripped, and bare of any homely clutter.
The caretaker was no longer taking care, she thought, and realized for the first time how completely she'd relied on his being here for her, in this house which meant so much-how totally she'd needed to go into his arms and weep out her fear and confusion, to know the reality of his heart beating against hers.
And she wondered, not for the first time, what it had been like for him to wake and find her gone, without a word. She wondered if he'd cared, if he'd asked at the Bull for any clues to 'Susie Smith' or tried to trace her in some other way.
Or if, more likely, he'd just accepted it for what it was-a passing fling, without strings or regrets, a few hours of total irresponsibility, now, at this distance, barely remembered.
Except by me, Zanna thought bleakly, and perhaps I should be thankful that pregnancy's been the only consequence of this incredible piece of folly.
She sat down limply on the stone step, leaning her back against the heavy timber. Life moved on, she thought, and it was unwise even to look back, let alone walk back into the past and hope to find it unchanged.
But, although she hadn't admitted it until this moment, she now realized that she had hoped and she had believed. And that made her present sense of desolation even more overwhelming. And more absurd.
Tears scalded like dancing fireflies behind her closed eyelids. His name burned on her aching throat.
'Where are you?' she whispered painfully into the stillness. 'Jake, come back-I need you. Forgive me for running away-and help me, please. Oh, please...'
She heard her words vanish into the unmoving silence and become swallowed up there. And after a while she got up slowly and stiffly from the step and went back to her car.
She got back to London in the early afternoon. She hadn't hurried the return journey, her mind circling wearily on her problems throughout the miles. Although she still hadn't come up with any real solution, she acknowledged unhappily as she fitted her key into its lock. And stopped, her senses alerted by the pungent odor of cigar smoke.
'Father?' she said uncertainly as she walked into the living room. 'What are you doing here?'
'Waiting for you.' The bulk of Sir Gerald's frame outlined against the window spoke of menace. 'You dirty little slut.'
Zanna's mouth was suddenly dry. 'I don't understand.'
'Neither did I-not until I went into the bathroom and found that obscene-thing.' His eyes were like stone. Opaque, cold. 'I had Ben Wickham with me. Tessa had told me about the vomiting. I was concerned, naturally. I wanted him to look you over.'
Zanna cursed Tessa under her breath. 'I asked her not to tell you. I said I didn't want the company doctor...'
'Thank God I have some employees who are loyal.' He drew a breath. 'I couldn't believe it when Ben told me what that paraphernalia was for-what it meant.'
Zanna lifted her chin. 'You have no right to come in here, either of you, and pry into my life. How did you get in anyway?'
"This apartment belongs to the company. I have keys to all Westcott property. And thank the Lord we did find out about you. The whole situation can be taken care of at once, without fuss or any scandal. Ben's assured me of that.'
Zanna was very still. 'What are you talking
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