Lovelink Page 6

Vicky and Caroline exchanged smiles.

  “I didn’t know you had it in you,” Caroline said.

  “Me!” Vicky wore an expression of mock innocence.

  Once the buffet had finished and been cleared away, Vicky and Caroline went upstairs to freshen up. They were just descending the sweeping staircase when she was aware that Marcus was on the bottom stair.

  “Marcus! There you are. We’re having a wonderful time,” Caroline said.

  Reaching him, she linked her arm through her brother’s.

  “Good.” He smiled and then, turning to look at Vicky, said, “I assume my sister’s told you how helpful she was today on the motorway. Yelling on the hard shoulder isn’t usually the way to fix broken down vehicles.”

  They all laughed and then he spoke once more to Caroline.

  “Seriously, though, don’t overdo the dancing, Caro. Not after today’s events.”

  She nudged him in the ribs and wrinkled her nose. “I know. Same old story…You’ll have to dance with Vicky, later,” she said.

  Marcus smiled and turned his attention to Vicky, his eyes appreciatively taking in her slim figure and the swell of her breasts in the revealing line of the dress.

  “You look gorgeous, Vicky.”

  She blushed and said, “Thank you. It’s a great party. I’m really enjoying it.”

  “So am I. Now.” He smiled, slowly.

  “Come on, Vicky, the dancing’s started,” Caroline said, as eager as a puppy.

  “You’d better go. My sister’s very impatient.”

  Once the band had begun to play, Vicky found she was hardly ever off the floor, dancing with lots of different partners. In fact, her feet were beginning to throb in her high heels. She’d just accepted another glass of wine when she felt a light touch on her elbow.

  “Would you like to dance with me, now?” Marcus asked.

  She nodded, feeling both pleased and a sharp pang of disappointment. If only he’d genuinely wanted to dance with me, she thought, knowing he’d only asked her because Caroline had told him to do so.

  “Yes, I would. Thank you.”

  He led her onto the packed dance floor and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. Instantly, her body responded to his touch. She felt her heart quicken its beat. Vehemently, she tried to remain oblivious to the effect he was having on her. Ever mindful of his relationship with Lucinda, she reminded herself that she had no wish to become part of another emotional triangle. But then she felt his warm breath on her cheek and electric tingles ran the course of her spine.

  Was it really possible that she was attracted to this dark, brooding man whose attitude she sometimes found intimidating but always intriguing?

  Enveloped in his arms, she knew the answer. As hard as she fought against it, the longing he inspired in her was too powerful to be denied.

  They swayed in perfect rhythm to the music. He said nothing to her, instead he let his fingers, which gently massaged the flesh of her bare back, communicate a secret message of desire to her.

  Could he sense the change in her feelings for him? She didn’t care. Right now, all she wanted was to stay forever in his arms, savoring each precious second.

  “Oh, Vicky,” he sighed as the music faded.

  Almost immediately, as they left the dance floor to join Caroline, Lucinda pounced on Marcus and said, “Darling, you promised me the next dance.”

  Frowning slightly, he said to Lucinda, “Of course.” And then turning to Vicky and Caroline said, “Excuse me, ladies.”

  Vicky watched as Marcus, with Lucinda on his arm, disappeared into the crowd of dancers. She felt a surge of disappointment.

  Finally, the evening was coming to an end. People were beginning to take their leave. Vicky had intended walking home to the cottage. It was only a short distance but as her feet were aching so much from all the dancing she wasn’t sorry when Caroline offered, “I’ll drive you home in a minute.”

  “That’s all right, Caroline, I’ll escort Vicky home.” It was Marcus.

  “But…”

  “No, it’s settled. Come on.”

  Yet again, he’d taken command of the situation and not listened to what she had to say. She felt a flash of anger towards him. Once more he proved his arrogance, confident she was totally in his power. Well, she’d show him she was in control somehow. She decided to be as cool as possible towards him, giving him no reason to suspect the effect he had on her.

  “Thank you,” she said, curtly.

  Then she turned her attention to Caroline and warmly thanked her for the evening, hoping Marcus noted the contrast.

  Gently cupping her elbow, he guided her to the Mercedes. She was conscious of the touch of his hand on her bare skin. She shivered, not altogether certain it was from the chill of the night air.

  “Cold?” he asked, placing his jacket around her shoulders.

  “A bit.”

  “I should think so. That dress is hardly practical.”

  His words stung.

  “I didn’t want to look practical,” she said. “I didn’t notice any of my dancing partners objecting.”

  “Dancing? Oh, is that what you were doing? I thought you were drumming up trade for that dating agency of yours, by working your way through half the single men in Brookleigh.”

  Her heart was thumping with rage. He was so incredibly offensive.

  “I don’t know what it is that you have against me, Marcus Foster, but I didn’t ask you to drive me home. If all you wanted was another excuse to be rude to me then don’t bother. I’ll walk.”

  “Don’t be so stupid. Get in.”

  If her feet hadn’t been so painful, Vicky would have walked home rather than spend one more minute with this man. Instead, she did as he said and made a silent vow not to speak to him on the journey home.

  Once cocooned in the luxury of the car, she tried to calm down. Yet again, he’d succeeded in infuriating her.

  Marcus started the engine, turning the radio cassette on low. Peaceful music swam over her.

  It wasn’t difficult for Vicky to keep her vow of silence as Marcus concentrated solely on driving and didn’t speak to her again. She stole a furtive glance at him and watched as he clenched his jaw. She regretted that once again they hadn’t been able to forge an amnesty. If only he could always be as pleasant towards her as he had been when they’d danced.

  He drew up outside the cottage and Vicky reached across to unlock the door. His hand covered hers and she turned towards him, his face dangerously close to her own.

  “Vicky, I’m sorry. It’s just that you make me so angry sometimes. You’re so…innocent.”

  “Innocent?”

  “Yes. Don’t you realise the effect you have on men? The effect you had on all those men you were dancing with tonight? The effect you have on me.”

  With that he kissed her, his mouth roughly covering hers. Vicky was so surprised that for a moment she was frozen. She felt spellbound, incapable of doing anything. Recovering slightly, her instant reaction was to push him away but when she put her hands up against the solid wall of his chest to do so, she found instead that she was sliding her hands around the back of his neck and returning his kiss with an ardour she hadn’t known she possessed. Her anger towards him had disappeared. This was the real Marcus now. Not the cold, bitter man whose harsh words hurt her so much.

  “Oh, Vicky,” he murmured against her throat as he covered the skin with a chain of light kisses.

  From somewhere deep inside her head, a voice warned her that this was wrong. He had a girlfriend. How could she allow him to play with her emotions like this? She was vulnerable and this could only lead to her being hurt even more. Mustering all her strength, she pushed him violently away.

  “No, Marcus. I’m sorry.”

  She wrenched open the car door and
fled, desperately searching through her handbag for her front door key. She was aware of him following behind her, calling, “Vicky, wait. Please, Vicky.”

  But it wasn’t his words which stopped her in her tracks. Covering her mouth with her hand, she gasped, “Oh my God, I don’t believe it!”

  Chapter Five

  Vicky was trembling.

  “This can’t be happening to me.”

  Hot tears splashed down her cheeks as her mind reeled with the implications of this latest, most macabre trick.

  Who was doing this to her? And would they only be content when they’d not only chased her out of Brookleigh but also sent her out of her mind?

  After weeks of coping with all the problems at Lovelink, the stress and the strain she’d been harbouring suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. She could only take so much.

  She stared at her awesome discovery, mesmerised by the sight, like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

  Nailed to her front door, was a black wreath.

  “Vicky, whatever’s going on?” It was Marcus.

  His voice reminded her he was still there. She’d momentarily forgotten his presence, her mind concentrated solely on the wreath.

  Blindly, she turned to him, forgetting instantly that she’d a reason to flee him. A reason that only minutes previously had been so very real and important. It paled into insignificance. Now she was desperate only for comfort, security. Someone she could rely on.

  He didn’t disappoint her. Wrapping his arms around her shivering body, he held her tightly. She allowed herself to cry, sobbing relentlessly against his broad chest, releasing some of the tension of the past few weeks. Tricks, practical jokes she could handle. This was something else. Terrifying and too close to home.

  “Come on, Vicky. Let’s get you inside. You’re shaking.”

  She tensed. For once she wasn’t eager to go inside the cottage. She was scared the wreath wasn’t the only outrage they’d committed. Petrifying images of what they might have done to her beloved home whirled through her mind’s eye.

  She shuddered.

  Marcus must have sensed her reluctance for he said quietly to her, “It’ll be all right. I’m with you.” He gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze.

  Hesitating for just a moment longer, she then nodded and handed him her front door key.

  “Who did this?” Marcus said, taking the wreath off the door and looking at it with disgust. “Kids, I suppose.”

  Vicky was reminded of the locksmith’s words only a few days earlier.

  “No, I…I don’t think so.”

  He turned to look quizzically at her but didn’t ask her anything further.

  Once inside the cottage, he switched on the lights and sat her in the armchair. Although it was summer, Vicky always kept the makings of a fire, laid in the grate, in case it was needed. Marcus bent down and lit it.

  If only she could stop shaking she was sure she’d feel better.

  “This is sick,” he said, standing on the hearth rug with feet astride and arms firmly crossed. “Who’d send you a wreath with Lovelink, RIP, on it?”

  Vicky didn’t answer him, instead she just hugged her arms around her knees and rocked. She felt dazed and very frightened. He seemed to accept her silence and didn’t push her any further. He left her then, quietly busying himself in the kitchen. A few moments later, he was beside her again, offering her a steaming cup of coffee.

  “Here, drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”

  He sat on the arm of the chair, cradling her against him. She started to drink the coffee, grimacing when she realised that he’d found her brandy and amply laced the hot drink with it.

  “Go on, drink it. It’ll do you good. You’ve had a nasty shock.”

  Yet again he’d taken control of the situation and was telling her what to do. For once, she was glad to obey him.

  However, she found she was still trembling so much she couldn’t hold the cup without the risk of spilling the liquid.

  “Here, let me,” he said and took the cup from her. He held it, tipping it so that she could take sips of the hot drink. “Better?”

  She nodded.

  She sat, held in his arms for a long time. Eventually the shivering subsided and she felt slightly stronger. Sensing she might be ready to talk he said, “Right, what’s all this about? I think it’s time you told me.”

  It was the one question she’d been dreading he’d ask.

  “I…I don’t know. Kids, I guess. Like you said.” She didn’t dare look at him, in case he could see she wasn’t telling the truth.

  He placed his hand under her chin and gently tilted her face so that she had no option but to look up at him. She saw the concern in his blue eyes.

  “No, I’m sorry, Vicky, I don’t believe that. I was wrong to suggest it. Think about it. Children wouldn’t go to all the trouble and expense of nailing a personalised wreath to your door. And I don’t believe it’s the act of a disgruntled customer, either. It was someone who knew the effect it would have on you. Someone who knew you’d gone out for the evening, the very first time since coming to Brookleigh. No, this is the work of someone who’s planned every move.”

  Tears started afresh and once more he held her tightly against him. She could feel his strength, his power and it gave her comfort. It was as if he could protect her against the world and all it threw at her.

  “Look, Vicky, I know something’s wrong and I wish you’d realise I’m a friend of yours and I care what happens to you. So trust me and tell me what’s going on. From your reaction, I’d suspect there’s more to this. It’s not an isolated incident now, is it?”

  Mutely, through a haze of tears, she shook her head.

  “Please, let me help you,” he said, tenderly wiping her wet cheeks dry with his handkerchief as he tried to coax her once more to tell him.

  As she looked at him, no longer austere and cold, she knew it would be so easy to confide in him. Perhaps he’d be able to help her. Sort it out. Make sense of the terrible mess she was in.

  For a moment, she teetered on the brink of telling him everything…

  But then something prevented her. She realised simultaneously that she couldn’t confess to him. How could she tell him, when she’d suspected he was behind it all in the first place? And dreadful though the admission was, as kind as he’d been to her this evening, she still suspected him.

  Whoever had nailed the wreath to her door, knew that although her Metro was parked outside, she wasn’t in. It was the first time, since moving to Brookleigh, she’d gone out socially for the evening. There weren’t that many people who were aware she was going to the party at Nuneton tonight. As she mentally ticked them off, she realised that Marcus Foster’s name was on that short list.

  Maybe that was why he’d been so insistent that he drove her home, so that he could see the effect his latest trick had had on her. Maybe he’d even kissed her in the car so that she might least suspect him. And when she thought back to it, wasn’t he nearly always about when something happened to her?

  Her mind spun with accusations and explanations.

  Oh, she just didn’t know anymore. What was going on? Who could she trust?

  Slowly, she shook her head.

  “No, Marcus. I’m sorry but I…I can’t tell you what’s been happening. I can’t tell anyone. I’m just not sure I even know myself what’s going on. Please, don’t make me.”

  He studied her for what felt like ages and then sighed, pushing a hand though his dark tangle of hair.

  “All right but if you don’t trust me then maybe you’ll feel better talking to the police. They should be involved. Someone obviously wants to wreck your business. I’ve gathered that much. Now they’re using scare tactics. I don’t like the idea of you being here alone. You’re too accessible. Whoever it is has
proved tonight they know where you live.”

  Vicky was surprised at his suggestion to call in the police. Surely, if he was guilty, as she suspected, then he would hardly want the police to be involved.

  But was he bluffing? Was this just another of his clever tricks to try to lull her into falsely believing she could trust him? Either way she didn’t want them to be contacted. Violently, she shook her head, seizing on a viable explanation she could give him.

  “Please Marcus, don’t call the police. They’ll have won then anyway if you do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Think about it. Would you go to a dating agency if it was anything but confidential? I base my business on being able to keep everything totally private. If the police are involved, it’ll put people off. I’ve got to keep the business running.” She sounded desperate even to her own ears.

  He sighed and then said, “Okay I see your point but I don’t want you staying here alone tonight. Come back to Nuneton House with me. We’ve plenty of room.”

  Once more, she declined his offer.

  “Thank you, Marcus. It’s kind of you to suggest it but I don’t want to leave my home. They aren’t forcing me out of my cottage. Anyway if I leave here tonight, I might be too scared to come back again. This is where I live. I’ve got to feel safe here.”

  “Okay but I’m not leaving you, yet.”

  She smiled. “Thanks, Marcus.”

  Long into the night they sat together, side by side on the sofa, in the cosy lounge. They didn’t speak much, Vicky’s thoughts were too jumbled to be able to share them with anyone. But it was good to know that if she needed to talk, he’d be there.

  So much had happened tonight that it was difficult for her to take it all in—the evening at Nuneton; Marcus kissing her; the wreath; Marcus comforting her.

  As she sat beside him, she marvelled at how they’d managed, through all the events of the night, to have reached a new understanding, a closeness. She remembered the pressure of his kiss and how instantaneously her own body had responded to his touch. She’d tried so hard to keep the vow she’d made to herself that she wouldn’t allow him to affect her but her body was devious and wouldn’t let her obey so readily.