Lost in Love

‘Ringing Jamie,’ she told him, holding the receiver to her ear. ‘I want to know how Clare is, and if—’

‘They’re not there,’ he said coolly, flipping over a newspaper sheet.

‘Not there?’ Alarm skittered down her spine. ‘Why?’ she gasped. ‘Is it Clare? Is she—?’

‘Of course not!’ he sighed. ‘So stop letting that wild imagination of yours run away with you. Clare is fine.’

‘Then why are you so certain they won’t be at the garage?’ she demanded. ‘It’s Saturday. Jamie is open on a Saturday. He—’

‘They are not your concern any more,’ Guy inserted levelly. ‘Leave them to get on with their own lives.’

‘Not my concern? Of course they’re my concern!’ she snapped. ‘They’re my family!’

‘I am the only family you need concern yourself about from now on.’

‘No way!’ Marnie shook her bright head. ‘I’ve willingly given up everything else for you, Guy. I will not give up my family as well!’

‘Willingly?’ he quizzed, lifting his dark head from his newspaper to mock her with a look.

‘Willingly or unwillingly,’ she snapped. ‘What difference does it make? I’ve done it. But Jamie and Clare are all I have left, and I won’t let you take them away from me, too!’

‘You have me,’ he pointed out.

But I don’t want you! she wanted to tell him, but held the words back, snapping her lips shut over her clenched teeth as she turned her attention back to the telephone again. No answer; she let it ring and ring, then, in the end, placed the receiver slowly back on its rest and turned to look at Guy.

‘What have you done with them, Guy?’ she demanded huskily.

‘Done?’ He glanced at her with amusement spiking his eyes, then away again. ‘That is charming,’ he scoffed. ‘Are you suspecting me of some dastardly crime, Marnie?’ he mocked. ‘Like spiriting them away to some wretched place and doing them in?’

‘Don’t be stupid!’ she snapped. Then, doubtfully, ‘What have you done with them?’

He sighed, his eyes flicking impatiently over the newspaper sheets as if he was intending not to answer. Then he said flatly, ‘They are not at the garage because they are at Oaklands. Your brother is working for me again. He and Clare moved into the Lodge House by the West Gate yesterday.’

‘Jamie—working back at Oaklands?’ Her voice mirrored her shocked disbelief. Her brother had always vowed never to work for anyone but himself

again. ‘But why? How—?’

‘Why?’ Guy drawled sardonically. ‘Because he is not fit to run his own business. And how? By doing as he was told and transporting himself, his charming wife, his impressive collection of tools—and my MG Magnette—down to Oaklands the day after he talked you into taking the rap for his own sins.’

‘My God.’ Stunned at how quickly he had turned all their lives inside out, she sank weakly into a nearby chair. ‘You mean—you took them over, lock, stock and barrel, just like that?’

‘Just like that,’ he agreed. ‘Let’s call it—protecting my investment,’ he smiled. ‘With your brother and his wife solely reliant on my goodwill to keep food on their plates and a roof over their heads, I should have no problem keeping my feisty wife in order.’

But her mind was too busy working overtime even to care about his provoking sarcasm. There was more to all of this than Guy was actually telling her—or her brother if she was reading her prickling instincts correctly. ‘And the garage?’ she questioned narrowly. ‘What is to become of that?’

‘That now belongs to me,’ he said. ‘And it goes up for sale first thing Monday morning.’

‘How much?’ she then demanded grimly. ‘How much exactly does my brother owe you?’

He ignored the question, seemingly engrossed in an article he was reading. Blue eyes beginning to burn, Marnie got up and stepped over to flick at the wretched newspaper he was so interested in with her hand. ‘How much?’ she demanded.

Guy took his time bringing his head up to look at her, and when he did there was more than just a mild warning in his eyes. ‘None of your damned business,’ he enunciated slowly. ‘If I was stupid enough to let him tap me for money, then that is my affair, not yours.’

‘But—’

‘Drop it, Marnie!’ he ground out suddenly, thrusting the newspaper aside and surging to his feet. ‘Just drop it before I get really angry, which I could very easily do, the way I feel right now. So be warned!’

‘No,’ she refused, taking hold of his arm as he went to stride away. ‘Guy, please tell me just how deeply we are in your debt.’