‘Claire?’ It was Randy and she sounded frantic. ‘Gil has done the most dreadful thing. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. He went to see Dane and told him where to find you, and God only knows what else he told him! I’m sorry.’
‘It’s all right. He’s here. I’ll speak to you later.’
‘You won’t be speaking to anyone but me later,’ Dane contradicted, closing the space between them suddenly to remove the receiver from her hand and drop it down on to the cradle. The angles of his hard cheekbones were sharper and there was a whipcord edge to his leanness now. Obviously, his constant partying had to have had some effect even on his tough constitution, she told herself miserably. ‘I guess I never thought I’d end up being in Gilles’ debt for anything.’ He muttered wryly.
Her now shoulder-length hair obscured her profile. She was not up to a scene and yet the very sight of him was a tormenting pleasure. ‘You shouldn’t have come.’
‘If we follow that back and say I shouldn’t have gone to Adam’s funeral, we might be on the right track,’ he delivered with unexpected savagery. ‘Gilles said you needed me.’
‘Like hell I need you!’ she spat through a veil of angry, despairing tears.
A pair of strong arms enclosed her rigid body. ‘Stop it,’ he urged as if he was soothing a cross child. ‘All these months you let me think you were with Max, and Gilles tells me there’s nobody on the scene. No damned wonder!’
His gaze was pinned to the swell of her stomach which was keeping them apart, his fascination naked. Indeed if he had looked at any other part of her in the past minutes, she had missed it. Her small hands coiled into fists. ‘Dane, please go away!’ she sobbed.
Instead he pressed her down into her swivel chair and squatted down at her level, tugging her hands down from her face and holding them in a fierce grip. ‘This must have come as a shock,’ he murmured tautly. ‘Hell, I’m still in shock. However, you’ve had months to get used to it. Do you—–’ his hesitation was uncharacteristic ‘—want it? I never realised it could be that easy … no, don’t listen to what I’m saying, I don’t know what I’m saying yet.’
The fierce resentment in her dissipated. She was tempted to bury her hands in his wind-tousled hair. She wanted so badly to hold him close. But she was locked inside herself by comprehension of how he had to feel. He must be thinking someone had cursed him at Adam’s funeral. She was like a disaster zone in his vicinity! Everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong, and this last revelation was clearly one he hadn’t even thought about.
‘I’m pleased about it,’ she muttered, ashamed in the face of his response to show more enthusiasm.
Supple fingers turned up her chin. ‘When it’s cost you Max?’ he derided.
So that was what he t
hought! Deep colour banished her pallor. His hand dropped away and her lips parted, but Dane was already speaking again. ‘Whatever else you think of me, I care about you. I care about what happens to you.’
Go on, she encouraged inwardly, make me feel even more like an albatross round your neck. Caring could never be loving. Caring belonged with weighty words like duty and responsibility and obligation. Claire had had sufficient experience of those at Ranbury to know how demanding and ultimately unsatisfactory they could be for the giver.
‘You don’t understand,’ she forced out the charge. ‘So you can stop feeling guilty. Max—–’ She swallowed hard, the last bolt on her pride shot, but it would be wickedly unjust to leave Dane believing that her pregnancy had deprived her of Max. ‘Max has someone else.’ She studied a button on his shirt. ‘Even before Grandfather died. I didn’t know. He just didn’t get round to telling me.’
She heard his breath escape audibly. He sprang upright without the forgivably furious exclamation she was waiting for. ‘You’ve got every right to be angry,’ she continued doggedly. ‘I should never have married you before I had a chance to speak to him face to face. And when I think about it calmly … after the way you threw all those clothes and things at me … well, you might have done something for Maisie and Sam if I’d asked you.’
She dug a hanky from her pocket and wiped her eyes.
‘Just think of all the fun I’d have missed.’ Dane had his back turned to her, big broad shoulders taut beneath his shirt. ‘There wasn’t any letter on Dominica, was there?’
‘No.’ She stifled a sob. ‘All of this has been my fault.’
‘Come on.’ He swung round with sudden purpose. ‘I’ll take you home.’
It was clear when they entered the library that John already knew Dane’s identity. His beam of approval was only lightened by his disappointment that she would not be returning—an assumption she said nothing about in Dane’s presence.
‘What did Gilles tell you?’ she demanded as soon as they were inside the Rolls, which had been waiting out on the street.
He gave one of his annoyingly careless shrugs. But he still looked unusually tense. ‘Not much. He got in before Zelda just to straighten out any misunderstanding there might have been, and he told me that there was no man around that he knew of.’
Gilles had stupidly implied that she was in some sort of trouble and Dane had taken the bait. His silence worked on her overstretched nerves and it was a relief when they completed the short drive to the flat. As she fumbled with her key Dane ran a finger along the nameplate on the front door. ‘M Blair. Miranda Blair. When I checked that address you gave Lew, I assumed the M stood for Max,’ he revealed softly. ‘I never did get his surname.’
He had thought she had been living with Max and he had been content with that. It spoke volumes for his attitude towards her. She cursed Gilles for his high-handed interference between them. Had he known the circumstances of their parting he might have understood that he had done neither of them a good turn.
‘Where’s your flatmate? The unfortunate who’s settling on Gilles for a husband?’ he queried sarcastically in the hall.
‘I like Gilles. He’s never been anything other than kind to me,’ she protested. ‘And Randy’s out. She rang from a callbox.’
‘Which is your room? ‘With his usual aplomb, Dane pushed open doors. ‘Hell, do I need to ask? Who else would have a photo of the Fletchers en famille by the bed? I bet you haven’t heard a word from one of them since you took off into the wide blue yonder.’
She shut the door. ‘You’d be wrong. Sandra called in one evening because she was down in London.’