And the Bride Wore Black

‘Fabia, you’re priceless, but I shouldn’t laugh really. What if he ever finds out?’

‘Well, he won’t, will he?’ Fabia said coolly with a little grin. ‘We’re hardly likely to ever get an invitation to anything like this again!’

‘No, I guess not.’ Joanie looked longingly at the laden tables of food at one end of the vast ballroom. ‘Ready for something to eat?’

‘Come on, then,’ Fabia said indulgently.

She found to her surprise that she quite enjoyed the rest of the evening. Joanie had to make several trips to the loo but apart from that slight inconvenience the two girls appreciated every moment of the excellent floor-show that had been organised, one singer in particular having a pure, sweet quality to her voice that Fabia could have listened to for hours. She had to admit the deception with Alexander Cade have given her a terrific boost, although she wouldn’t probe her feelings beyond that. The whys and wherefores were in the past and best left there.

When the party finally began to break up Fabia contemplated one last attack on the hapless Mr Cade and then decided, albeit reluctantly, that enough was enough. There had been something in that dark gold gaze that she had found disconcerting, and anyway, one thing was sure: he certainly wouldn’t forget her in a hurry! She gave a small secretive smile as the thickly carpeted lift whisked her and Joanie and a few other guests down into the discreetly elegant foyer of the sumptuous hotel.

‘Could I just make one last visit before the taxi comes? That seafood doesn’t want to say die...’ Joanie shot off before Fabia could reply and with a little sigh she seated herself in one of the huge, soft, silk-upholstered chairs that were dotted about the reception area, kicking off her shoes and stretching her toes with a small sigh. This was the sort of place Robin had taken her to. She brought herself upright with a small jerk. Don’t think of him, Fabia, she told herself angrily. You haven’t wasted a thought on him in months; don’t start now! It was because she was tired, she thought grimly, tired and in the sort of place that brought back a host of unwelcome memories.

She heard the man fall before she saw him, the sound of a body hitting the carpet with a dull thud at the same time as a piercing shriek cut through the hushed atmosphere. ‘Billy! Oh, Billy! Someone do something, somebody help him.’ As the last word died away she had reached the side of the elderly couple who had just come out of the lift, pushing aside the small plump woman who was kneeling by the side of her equally small plump husband. His face was a ghastly caricature of pain, bulbous eyes distended and skin stretched tight over his red face as he gasped for breath.

It looked as though his wife was going into full-blown hysterics and Fabia glanced round quickly at the crowd of interested onlookers that was gathering as she fumbled with his tie. ‘Is there a doctor here? Does anyone know how to deal with a heart attack?’ Blank silence met her clear sharp voice and, as the man beside her made another strangled gulp for air that ended in a deadly choking sound, she shouted across to the stunned receptionist who was frozen by her desk, ‘Get an ambulance, and qu

ickly!’

He had stopped breathing. As she looked down at the twisted face she was aware that all signs of life had stopped and without pausing to think she went into the emergency procedure she had practised so often with Joanie when her friend was taking her nursing examinations. Loosening his tie and ripping open his clothing, she hit down on to the smooth rounded mass of flesh as hard as she possibly could, hearing the gasp of shock from the crowd gathered round them through the ringing in her ears. The wife increased her screaming at the second blow to her husband’s chest and Fabia spared a second to push her aside. ‘Will you be quiet? You aren’t helping.’

‘You’re killing him!’ At the third blow the woman tried to drag Fabia from her husband’s side and then through her concentration she was aware of someone holding the unfortunate woman out of range and talking to her in a deadly quiet voice. Whatever was said worked, as the screams were shut off as though by magic.

On the fifth blow there was a great intake of air from the supine figure and a mingled gasp of relief from the onlookers, who had entered into this battle of life or death wholeheartedly now. Fabia continued to crouch by his side without taking her eyes off his dazed face, talking to him in a low, reassuring tone as he struggled to survive. He stopped breathing once more before the ambulance crew arrived but this time only one hard punch was needed to jolt the reluctant heart into action again, and as they whisked him out to the ambulance one of the crew patted Fabia swiftly on the shoulder. ‘Well, done, lass. It was lucky for him you were around.’

It was all over in a second, and as Fabia sank back on her heels into the ankle-deep carpet she was suddenly aware that her hand was throbbing as though she had thumped a brick wall and her head was pounding. ‘Oh...’ For a moment everything faded in a misty haze.

‘OK, folks, the show’s over.’ As a pair of hard male hands grasped her under her arms, drawing her carefully to her feet, the attentive audience melted away and the vast room once again took on the refined subdued murmur that was customary in such elegant surroundings.

It wasn’t until she had been lowered on to the edge of the chair she had vacated a few frantic minutes ago that Fabia rallied sufficiently to raise her eyes, realising that the same voice that had taken charge of the screaming wife so capably earlier was now taking charge of her.

She froze in horror as Alexander Cade stared back at her silently, his strange tawny eyes glittering with unholy fire and his dark face set in lines of deadly cold anger. ‘Yours, I think?’ As he dangled her shoes in front of her white face a screaming blackness caused her ears to ring and his shape to blur into a tall shadow, and although he moved quickly with a muttered oath he was too late to save her from sliding into a graceful heap at his feet in a dead faint.

‘What did you do to her?’ She came to in disorientated panic to hear Joanie’s soft voice whispering seemingly in her ear. ‘What on earth did you do to her?’

‘I didn’t do anything, you stupid girl.’ She recognised the bitingly frosty voice immediately and gave a little groan as she remembered where she was. This was all she needed!

She opened dazed eyes to see Joanie’s anxious face two inches from her own. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Of course she isn’t all right.’ Joanie was plucked from her vision and a large balloon glass of brandy held in front of her nose. ‘Drink that.’ The tone was uncompromisingly severe with not a trace of warmth in its arctic depths. ‘Now.’

The neat alcohol burnt as it hit her stomach but its reviving power was immediate, and as the colour came back into her face she became aware that she was lying on a remarkably uncomfortable leather sofa in what she presumed was the manager’s office.

‘Can you sit up?’ the hard voice asked coldly above her head.

‘Perhaps she shouldn’t, we don’t know—’

‘Look, Miss...?’ The two words held intense irritation.

‘Fletcher. Joanie Fletcher.’ Fabia detected a tremor in Joanie’s soft voice and her hackles rose immediately.

‘Look, Miss Fletcher, your friend just rendered somewhat extreme first aid on a poor unfortunate man who had the temerity to have a heart attack in front of her, owing to which, among other things, I should think he now has several broken ribs to contend with. If you’d seen what I’d seen you wouldn’t be at all surprised at her collapse. I think the man’s wife will need psychiatric care for some considerable time—’

‘You lying hound!’ The fierce adrenalin pumping vig-orously through her system banished the last remains of faintness as she swung her feet off the sofa and rose in one swift leap. ‘How dare you? I—’

‘How dare I?’ The incredulous note in the icy voice checked her flow of words and as she gazed into the livid countenance towering above her Fabia knew a moment of pure stomach-twisting fear. ‘You ask me how I dare?’ Joanie moved silently to her side in unspoken support, her plump, round face as white as a sheet and her hands stretched out imploringly.

‘Mr Cade, this isn’t what you think—’