Her stomach contracted and goosebumps peaked on her skin. He sounded as if he really meant it, as if he had some dirt he was waiting to fling over her and Jed.
She couldn’t think what. He was the one who had plenty to hide. Nevertheless, it had to be dealt with. She didn’t want him even trying to make trouble. She and Jed already had enough of that on their hands.
‘We can’t talk here,’ she said with sharp aggravation. Talking to him at all was the last thing she wanted, but she had to find out what was on his sneaky mind so she could do something about it.
‘Now you’re being sensible, babe.’
There’d been a time when his slight cockney accent had fascinated her. Now she felt nothing. ‘So give me your number and I’ll call you back,’ she instructed coldly. She’d have to drive back to the village and use the public call box. She could make the excuse that she’d forgotten something. It was a damned nuisance, because she’d meant to spend what was left of the afternoon making herself look good for Jed, planning what she’d say to him.
She scrabbled around in the drawer of the table for paper and something to write with, but he derided, ‘You think I’m stupid, or something? Meet me at the end of hubby’s fancy drive in fifteen minutes.’
So he was close. That close?
For the first time she felt scared. When she’d married him all those years ago she’d thought she knew him. One year on she’d discovered she hadn’t known him at all. Who knew what evil retaliation he had in his mind?
She glanced at her watch. No way would she let him know he was beginning to worry her. ‘Make it an hour,’ she said firmly, and tried not to shake.
‘Why? So you can call in the cavalry?’
‘No, because it suits me.’
She replaced the receiver decisively and leant against the table, waiting for her heartbeats to steady. In one hour’s time Catherine would be resting in her room, something she always did because, as she said, she was sixty years old and entitled to pamper herself.
And Edith would have come over from the converted stable-block she and her husband had occupied for years to begin preparing the special dinner they’d planned to welcome Jed home.
Dinner was always at eight at Netherhaye, so Jed was unlikely to be arriving before seven. ‘Around dinner time,’ he’d said.
That gave her plenty of time to get rid of Liam and make sure he didn’t come back.
Exactly one hour later her confidence had haemorrhaged away, and the winding, tree-lined drive seemed endless, her legs feeling uncomfortably shaky, as if they might give way under her at any moment.
Liam Forrester’s pleasure was Liam Forrester’s main preoccupation. He liked to have a good time, liked fast cars, high living, was happy to cheat and steal to get what he wanted. Being behind bars would not have made him a happy man.
And her evidence had put him there.
As Liam stepped out from beneath the trees she suppressed a cry of alarm. She refused to let him see any sign of fear.
He swept his eyes over her casually clothed body, making her skin crawl. ‘You could do with a bit of glitz, and I’d never let you wear trousers—you’ve got fabulous legs. But you look good. Success suits you.’
Prison hadn’t suited him. It was almost a shock to see how he’d altered. His blond hair had dulled to an ashy brown and looked unkempt, he’d grown a paunch, and the once sharp dresser was now wearing stained, shabby black trousers and a cheap imitation leather jacket.
‘How did you know where I was?’
The question was forced from her. Her life when she’d been married to him seemed so long ago. He was the part of her past she’d wanted to expunge from her memory; she had almost forgotten his existence.
‘Easy. I’ve been following your career with interest. Not much else to do in the nick but read the papers. And plan how I’d catch up with you one day and see you shared your success with me—like I shared mine with you once upon a time. Trouble was, I read you lived somewhere in Spain, so when I got out I couldn’t get my hands on you.’
He stepped closer. He’d put on weight and looked big and threatening. The lane that passed the end of the drive was rarely used. Anything could happen.
He saw the fear in her eyes and smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not daft enough to wring the neck of the golden goose! I reckon fate’s on my side for once. It was a stroke of luck seeing that piece in the paper about you winning that award. I just needed to hang around, follow you down here, book into the village pub and ask a few questions.’
The blue Escort, she thought tiredly. And questions. ‘You phoned earlier pretending to be a journalist,’ she stated.