And the Bride Wore Black

‘Alex, darling, we’ve been waiting absolutely ages. We couldn’t go without saying hello, now, could we?’ The woman moved gracefully towards them down the steps, and as she placed herself unasked into Alex’s arms Fabia realised she was a little older than she had first supposed, probably thirty or so, and as the lovely face glanced at her for a piercing moment with big beautiful green eyes Fabia knew something akin to an electric shock shoot down her spine. She had never before in her life experienced a look of such angry, undisguised hate; there had been something in those jade-green eyes that was positively malignant, something that reached out at her through the icy air with fierce animal viciousness and curled her insides in protest.

‘Susan.’ Alex gently disentangled the slim arms from around his neck and placed them firmly at the woman’s sides, softening the gesture with a warm smile as he looked down at the beautiful face staring up at him. ‘Are your parents with you, and the children?’

‘Of course.’ Seemingly unrebuffed, Susan placed her arm in his, ignoring Fabia as though she didn’t exist. ‘Daddy had to drive. You know I daren’t take the car out on roads like these.’ She smiled helplessly up into his face like a little girl asking for approval.

‘I’d like you to meet Fabia.’ He uncoiled Susan’s arm with amazing dexterity and reached out for Fabia, curving her into the crook of his arm as he moved slightly to one side. ‘Fabia, meet Susan, an old friend of the family.’

‘Hello.’ Fabia smiled into the beautifully made-up face, noticing as she did so that Susan’s large green eyes had turned glacial the moment they had fixed on her.

‘Hello, sweetie.’ Susan held out a soft manicured white hand. ‘I’ve seen you before, haven’t I, at one of Alex’s receptions?’ She smiled a sugar-sweet smile that didn’t reach the cold jade eyes. ‘I didn’t realise you were one of Alex’s...girlfriends.’

The brief but very definite hesitation before the word ‘girlfriend’ was a subtle insult that only another woman would recognise, and Fabia looked hard at the other woman, her face straight. ‘Probably because I’m not one of them,’ she said coolly. ‘I’ve never been one for sharing what belongs to me. I am the girlfriend.’ She smiled a slow, long deliberate smile.

Both Susan and Alex were staring at her with equal astonishment on their faces if for different reasons. Alex clearly had no idea why Fabia had stated her case so firmly and Susan was obviously astounded that the gauntlet had been taken up with such speed. She opened her mouth to say more and then caught the glint in Fabia’s eye and decided against it. ‘How nice...’

Fabia smiled sweetly. ‘We think so, don’t we, darling?’ She looked up into Alex’s face, which had a distinctly mesmerised tinge to it now. He had said he wanted her to be herself, hadn’t he? Well, there was no way she was going to let a spoilt little rich girl like Susan put her down without a fight.

‘Uncle Alex! Uncle Alex!’ As two small figures came hurtling through the open doorway and launched themselves into Alex’s arms she caught an expression of what could almost be termed triumph on Susan’s face. What now? It was clear the children adored him and he them, and as Fabia walked by Alex’s side into the house, a child perched on each of his arms, she wondered with a feeling of dread gripping her heart what other little surprises Alex had in store for her this Christmas.

CHAPTER SEVEN

BY THE time Susan’s parents left an hour later with their daughter and grandchildren in tow, Fabia had passed through so many different emotions that she felt quite exhausted. The initial feeling of outrage at the other woman’s deliberate snub and continued offhand disregard that bordered on rudeness had first changed to exasperation, then contemptuous disgust, to finish in such a mixture of feelings that even she couldn’t have named them. Apart from one—anger. That alone had remained constant throughout.

The instinctive dislike that had first risen with Susan’s discourtesy had been swiftly replaced by revulsion at the way the other woman quite blatantly used her children to further her friendship with Alex, encouraging them to sit on his knee and exulting openly in his easy relationship with them. ‘Isn’t Alex just a darling with the kiddies?’ Susan said in a soft undertone to Fabia as she was preparing to leave. ‘I just don’t like to think how I would have coped without him when poor William died.’

‘William?’ Fabia asked coolly.

‘My late husband, such a dear, dear man,’ Susan said unemotionally. ‘Heaps older than me, of course, but he was so in love with me and I was too young then to know what I really wanted.’ The hard green eyes fastened on Alex hungrily.

‘But of course you are quite a few years older now?’ Fabia said drily, deciding enough was enough, and effectively finishing further conversation as Susan departed with head held high and cheeks burning, her eyes glacial.

Alex seemed to take an inordinate amount of time seeing them all off and his smile as he re-entered the room seemed like the last straw. ‘Anything wrong, Fabia?’ He looked at her oddly.

‘Fabia has a headache,’ Isabella intervened firmly and smoothly with an understanding glance at her stiff face. ‘Why don’t you go and have a rest before dinner, Fabia? I intend to.’

Those sharp black eyes missed very little, Fabia thought wryly as she smiled gratefully at Isabella. The tiny woman had been aware of every little subtle snub Susan had sent in her direction and Fabia had noticed Isabella’s coldness with the lovely brunette. ‘I will, thank you,’ she said quietly, leaving the room quickly with just a cool nod at Alex as she passed him. The fact that he appeared quite oblivious both to Susan’s behaviour and her own fury made her doubly irritated as she lay down on the soft bed, turning out the main light and leaving just the subdued glow from one small lamp to light the large room.

Men can be so blind, she thought bitterly as she lay in the warm semi-darkness, her mind buzzing with a thousand images. Alex chasing Gemma, Susan’s little five-year-old, on all fours, growling madly while pretending to be a lion. Alex listening seriously with complete concentration while Jeremy, at eight years old, explained the rudiments of football. Alex— ‘Stop it, stop it!’ Her voice was loud in the empty room and she rolled over on the bed, hands on her ears as she endeavoured to shut out the pictures.

It had hurt to see him like that and she didn’t understand why. She could cope with the ruthless millionaire businessman image or charming philanderer—just—but seeing him playing with the children, his male strength more marked against their fragility, had touched something deep inside her that was acutely painful.

He’s nothing to you, so it doesn’t matter, she told herself firmly as she glanced at her watch, deciding to have a leisurely bath before dinner. Susan isn’t the first and she won’t be the last, you know that. You know it.

So why, when she knew the inescapable truth, did it hurt so much? she thought late

r as she lay soaking in the warm, scented water. Why was there a permanent ache in her heart these days, and why the mad churning in her stomach every time she so much as thought of him?

I wish I could go back to the flat, she thought suddenly. Back to a safe little hidey-hole where I could lick my wounds in peace. But I haven’t got any wounds, she argued hotly with that voice in her mind, sitting bolt upright in the bubbles, slopping water over the edge of the bath on to the thick fluffy carpet. I won’t let there be any!

She heard the knock on the door and tensed before remembering that it was Mary’s time to come and turn down the beds, a ritual she never missed and insisted on doing. The small woman had taken to spending five minutes with her when possible, filling her in on the history of the house and its occupants.

‘Come in...’ She slid back down under the bubbles as she spoke.

‘Now I’d love to take you up on that, I really would, but as I suspect the invitation was given in error I’ll restrain my natural tendencies with noble self-control.’

‘Alex?’ Her voice was a panic-stricken squeak. ‘I thought you were Mary. Don’t come in!’

The sound of a lazy rich chuckle did amazing things to her insides and she curled her toes in the water, her heart jumping. ‘You really haven’t got the spirit of Christmas at all, angel-face—goodwill to all men and so on.’ There was a moment’s silence and when she didn’t speak he tapped the door again gently. ‘I just called by to say that Isabella is feeling rather tired and is going to have dinner in her room.’ There was a faint note of concern for his grandmother in the dark voice in spite of his efforts to hide it. ‘It will just be the two of us downstairs so don’t bother to dress for dinner—we’ll be relaxed and casual. OK?’