Elena swallowed convulsively but kept her head high, her face serene. And of course he was looking puzzled, wondering why she was so glossy, so packaged.
She’d arranged her pale hair at the nape of her neck, in a smooth, cool style, fixed tiny gold studs into the lobes of her ears and was wearing a suit he hadn’t seen before—straw-coloured linen, with a short-sleeved, nipped-waist, collarless jacket over a straight skirt that ended two inches above her knees—and plain, slightly darker-toned high heels.
She said, as if reciting from a list, ‘I’ve registered with Greenway and I’ve arranged for a check-up m four days’ time.’ The morning of the awards ceremony. And before he could give her a verbal pat on the head for being a good girl and doing as she’d been told, she said, in the same breath, ‘Edith said it was all right for me to borrow the Astra. So I’ll head for London now. I managed to get a room at my usual hotel—a lucky late cancellation—and I’ll see you back here in three days’ time.’
She heard him pull in his breath as she turned to go, and a second later his voice made her pause. ‘Running away, Elena?’
She swung back. Never let it be said she hadn’t the courage to look him in the eye. ‘No. Shopping. I’d like something extra special to wear for the ceremony. You never know, I might win. And if I don’t, I’ll want to go down with all flags flying. Besides—’ she did what he’d done to her at breakfast: looked pointedly at her watch, and wondered if he felt as she had done—surplus to requirements ‘—I need to see my editor and my agent. I’m sure you can square my flit with Catherine. She at least understands that I have a life.’ She lobbed him a flinty smile. ‘You should be grateful. I’m sparing you my noxious company for three whole days. And nights.’
She turned again and walked down the path. Her spine was as straight as it could possibly go, but, boy, was it tingling! She half expected him to bounce up behind her and grab her, lock her in the attic, if that was what it took, and keep her there until a situation arose that demanded she be brought out and paraded—a new bride doll with a painted smile and a puppet master to pull her strings.
But he did no such thing. Of course he didn’t. He let her go.
The hotel she always used when she flew into London to see her publisher was comfortable and unpretentious. It suited her. Or had done.
Tonight she couldn’t settle. Jed haunted her mind and filled her heart. Memories of the good times, those special, wonderful, loving times, kept coming back, resurfacing seconds after she’d thought she’d pushed them back into oblivion. The bad times, too, were ever present, tormenting her.
Since arriving she’d made an appointment to meet with her editor tomorrow, and another to have lunch with her agent the day after that. The rest of the time would be spent shopping for that perfect dress, shoes to wear with it, maybe a new perfume.
She’d get her hair trimmed. And what about a facial? Manicure? Browse through the bookshops. Why not? Anything to fill the hours, occupy her mind.
But the nights—what was she to do about the nights? She frowned at the television set, talking to itself in a corner of the room, picked up the remote control and zapped it off. She took herself to bed and tried to read, but the words didn’t make any sense at all.
She had shown Jed that she had a mind of her own, that she wasn’t prepared to dance to his mournful tune, live a lie into the foreseeable future. She’d made her stand and escaped an intolerable situation.
This trip to London hadn’t been about buying new clothes, it had been about escape. But she could never escape, no matter how far she ran, not while he was still firmly in her heart.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELENA fixed the diamond ear-studs with steady fingers. Set in ornate, chunky gold, they matched the bracelet around her slender wrist. Jed’s wedding gift to her. She’d leave these lovely things behind at Netherhaye when all this was over. She had only decided to wear them tonight because they were the perfect complement to her dress.
She stood back, looking at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She’d do. No ballooning bulge in the tummy region yet, although during her check-up Greenway had assured her it wouldn’t be long before it appeared!
But for now the champagne-coloured satin sheath lovingly caressed every softly rounded curve. Ending a few inches above her knees, it made her look very leggy, and the deeply scooped top, suspended only by the thinnest of shoestring straps, made her breasts look fuller than they were. Or maybe that was down to her condition?
She’d left her hair loose tonight, a shimmering golden sweep curving down to her shoulders, and for once her make-up couldn’t be faulted. She looked, she decided dispassionately, like a sophisticated, sexy, mature professional woman. It was the look she had deliberately set out to achieve.