Time for Trust

Thinking of Jane reminded Jessica that she ought to leave the other girl a note. She was just writing it when Daniel walked into the kitchen with her case.

‘I’ve made you some sandwiches,’ she told him curtly. ‘I thought you might be hungry.’

She saw the surprise lighten his eyes and felt a momentary pang of remorse, a longing for things to be different, and even a rebellious wish that she had never opened the door to her cousin—never learned the truth.

‘Something wrong?’ Daniel asked her, watching her closely.

Hot colour scorched her skin. How he would laugh if he could read her thoughts.

In addition to filling a flask with fresh coffee, she’d poured them both a mug. She knew she needed the reviving, caffeine-induced surge of energy the drink would give, and she suspected that, although he wasn’t showing it, Daniel must be feeling the effect of his long drive.

Turning away from him so that he couldn’t see her face, she picked up one of the mugs and handed it to him, saying shortly, ‘No, of course not.’And then suddenly, as though in denial of her claim, her hand started shaking, slopping the coffee on to the table, and to her horror she felt her eyes filling up with tears as a mixture of fear and urgency swept over her. Hating herself for being so vulnerable, she added bitterly, ‘After all, it’s not as though I’ve any reason to feel shocked and upset, is it?’

He gave her a cynical look. ‘If you’re trying to tell me those tears are for your father…’

His jibe stung and she retaliated bitterly. ‘Just because I won’t allow my father to run my life for me, it doesn’t mean I don’t love him…that I don’t care…He is my father.’

‘Is he? I had the impression your relationship with your parents was something you preferred to pretend didn’t exist.’

His accusation hurt her, leaving her bereft of any defences, and too vulnerable to the small inner voice that told her that there must have been many times in the past when she had unwittingly hurt her parents, more so than she herself had ever realised, if it were true that her mother had felt so unsure of her response that she hadn’t wanted to telephone her with the news of her father’s heart attack. She had to remind herself that even now he was not above using her vulnerability to reinforce his own position, to emotionally coerce her.

‘I never said that,’ she denied sharply.

‘Not in so many words, but you certainly gave me that impression. You don’t trust anyone who knows your parents—hardly the sentiments of a loving child,’ he taunted her.

‘Maybe not, but they were certainly justified, weren’t they?’ Jessica accused, anger overtaking vulnerability. ‘I may not share my parents’ views on the direction I want my life to take, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.’

There was a small silence, and then Daniel said grimly, ‘Tell that to your father if—’ He broke off, but she knew what he had been about to say. ‘If he’s still alive.’

Something broke apart inside her, spilling pain throughout her body, unleashing a veritable Pandora’s box of emotions so complex and agonising that she wanted to cry out in protest against them.

‘I can’t be the daughter my parents want,’ she said huskily, speaking her pain out loud. ‘I can’t sacrifice my life and emotions to the bank.’

Daniel had finished his coffee.

‘Time to go,’ he told her curtly, cutting across her emotional outburst.

* * *

It was only later, sitting next to him in his car as he drove south, that she remembered that he had never given her back the money she had thrown at him in such anguish and disdain, and for some reason she couldn’t quite analyse that struck a tiny note of alarm somewhere deep inside her.

They were on the motorway, which was mercifully free of heavy traffic at this time of night, and Daniel had been silent for so long that it was a shock to hear him saying smoothly, ‘I take it the bedroom you were in wasn’t very warm.’

Astonishment made her turn her head to look at him, her expression unguarded and puzzled as she looked at his unreadable profile. He was concentrating on the road, not looking at her, even though she knew he must be conscious of her scrutiny. A car came up behind them, being driven far too fast, and he changed gear, pulling to one side to allow it to pass. The movement caught her attention, causing her to focus automatically on his thigh.

A huge wave of sensation washed through her, her body quivering as her mind fought against the images flashing across her brain. It shocked her that such a small, mundane movement could have the power to arouse images of such sensuality and intimacy, and her mind recoiled, horrified by what the conscious part of it considered to be an unforgivable invasion into the privacy of another person.

She had never before in all her life looked at a man and immediately conjured up a mental vision of him naked, aroused by desire, offering the pleasures of his body to her for her enjoyment. And what was even more disturbing was her own reaction to the wantonness of that imagery.

Confused and ashamed, she forced herself to drag her gaze from his body and focus on his face, her mind swimming with shock and bewilderment.

‘My bedroom, cold?’she managed to stammer. ‘I…No…I don’t…What makes you think that?’

‘The nightdress you were wearing,’ he told her casually, momentarily and totally unexpectedly diverting his attention from the road to her.

‘My nightdress?’ She frowned, remembering how quickly she had packed for her journey north, wrenching out of a drawer a hideous winceyette nightdress which she had been given as a Christmas present one year, and by Emma, of all people.

She felt herself go hot and then cold as she realised that if Daniel had found her nightdress, then he had doubtless found and packed her underwear as well, although why she should feel so embarrassed at the thought of him touching her things she really had no idea. If she was honest with herself, anyway, it wasn’t the thought of him touching the clothes he had removed from her drawer that disturbed her so much, but the remembered sensation of his hands removing them from her body.

‘Yes…yes, it was cold. The house doesn’t have central heating…’ She realised too late that she was babbling a panic-stricken explanation and fell silent, not sure which of them she hated the most, herself or him.

‘You realise that we still have to talk, don’t you?’ he continued calmly.

‘Talk?’ She jerked herself back to reality and gave him a bitter look. ‘What about? You can’t have anything to say that I want to hear.’

‘No,’ he agreed acidly. ‘You wouldn’t. All you want to do is run away, to punish me the way you punished your parents.’

Jessica sucked in her breath, outraged that he should dare to accuse her.

‘I thought you were a woman,’ he went on inexorably, ‘but you’re not. You’re a spoiled, selfish child who isn’t capable of thinking beyond her own immaturity—’

‘You’re just saying that because you still think you can persuade me, convince me,’ she interrupted him hotly, only to fall silent as he said coldly,

‘No, Jessica. I have no intention of persuading or convincing you of anything. I was foolish enough once to offer you an explanation—an explanation of something that ought to have been taken on trust,’ he told her grimly. ‘But you have no trust. You couldn’t wait to believe the worst of me, could you?You couldn’t wait to reject me. Oh, no. I’m not your doting daddy. I’m not going to pander to you, coaxing and persuading you. Trust, love—they’re two-way things, and if you think I want to share my life with a woman who doesn’t respect me enough as a human being to know that I wouldn’t deceive her without some very good reason—’ He broke off and looked directly at her, and Jessica felt her heart plummet, and a horrid feeling of shame and misery engulf her. There was no love in his eyes, no warmth, no teasing, male appreciation, only a flat, metallic hardness that repudiated her and denied her, and for some reason she felt as though she were the one in the wrong.

‘I don’t

know why you’re telling me this,’ she said fiercely. ‘There’s no relationship between us any more.’

‘At least that’s something we can agree on,’ he countered coldly. ‘All I’m doing is making my position clear. I’m here on your parents’ behalf, not my own, so please disabuse yourself of any idea you might have that I’m going to try to coax or persuade you in any shape or form.’

‘I’m glad!’ Jessica snapped. ‘Because it wouldn’t work. We’ve both already agreed, it’s finished.’

‘Not quite,’ Daniel told her silkily.

A tiny frisson of fear feathered down her spine. There was something in the way he spoke, something in the cold, hard way he smiled at her…

‘There’s still the matter of your twenty-nine pieces of silver. Poor Jessica,’ he mocked cruelly. ‘You couldn’t even get that right, could you? One day, not very far from now, you’re going to wish more than you’ve wished anything else in your life that you hadn’t made that gesture, Jess.’

‘Never,’ she told him quickly. ‘Never!’ And then wondered uncertainly why it was that she was having such a strong premonition of danger.