Dear Villain Read online

  'Adam, as we've stopped, do you mind if I go and get some strawberries for tea? They're selling them over there.'

  'Yes, do that,' and Adam thrust his hand into his pocket and brought out some change. Liz shook her head as he helped her from the car.

  'I have some money, thanks. Will you catch me up along the road?' He nodded and the attendant said with enthusiasm:

  'A Morgan, isn't it, sir?'

  'Yes, put five in, will you, please?'

  'She's a beauty. You don't see…'

  Liz left them and walked along the road to the cottage, where she bought the strawberries. Looking back, she could still see the two men talking, so she began to stroll slowly the way they were going. The pathway was set quite high, falling away into a ditch bordered by a hawthorn hedge. She glanced over this and was surprised to see the glimmer of water, not realising that the canal was so near. Liz savoured the country air, keeping her ears tuned for the sound of the Morgan. It really was a lovely afternoon. Adam seemed relaxed and easy, his usual cynical manner had been left behind and Liz was certainly going to be on her best behaviour. Perhaps, she thought hopefully, everything would be all right, after all?

  She paused at a break in the hedge and leaning over the stile watched two swans sail regally by, the muted sound of children's laughter floating across the water. The sun was hot on her back. It was too warm to walk any further, she would wait until Adam came.

  Suddenly there was the sound of a frightened cry, a splash and then a child's hysterical shouting. Almost before she knew it, Liz shot over the stile, colliding with a small, sobbing boy who was running along the tow path. 'Miss! Come quick—my brother's in the water and he can't swim!' this last ended on a wail and his body was racked with heavy sobs.

  Running along the towpath in the direction of the cries, Liz could now see a boat floating in the middle of the canal and a younger boy clinging to its side which was now below water level and rapidly filling. Flinging off her sandals, she shouted:

  'Hang on, I'm coming!' and plunged into the canal, striking out with frantic strokes. After the sun on her body the water felt very cold and tasted foul. Reaching the boy, she grabbed his jersey and trod water.

  'Let go of the boat,' she ordered. Reluctantly he did so and although very low in the water, the boat righted itself and remained floating. Turning the terrified boy on to his back, Liz grabbed the end of the boat with her free hand and kicking out with her legs began to propel them both to the opposite bank. At the edge, where the reeds were thick, she tentatively put a foot down and felt mud oozing between her toes. She was able to stand, but that was about all she could do. The bank could have been Mount Everest for all the strength she had left, and with relief she saw Adam pounding down the towpath.

  'Right, Elizabeth, I've got him,' and the child was hauled from the water. Then she too was dragged unceremoniously on to the bank by an Adam Carlyon who was swearing profusely under his breath. Liz lay face down on the grass, coughing and gasping for breath, gradually becoming aware of a third adult voice mingling with the sobbing childish ones. This turned out to be a man who had been fishing further up the bank, and it was a very subdued pair of children who walked away with him, a few moments later, down the path.

  'Where do they live?' asked Liz, sitting up and watching them go.

  'In Queensbridge,' said Adam shortly. 'They're visiting their aunt and uncle in that farmhouse over there.'

  'That little one's liable to give his aunt and uncle a heart attack at first sight,' said Liz with feeling. 'How old are they, for heaven's sake?'

  'Six and eight, much too young to be playing about here unsupervised. They'd been warned, it seems, not to go near the canal, but the boat was evidently too much of a temptation.'

  'Will they be all right?' she asked through chattering teeth.

  'Yes, of course, which is more than you'll be if you don't get dry soon.' He gave a short laugh. 'You look like a drowned rat!'

  'Thank you for those few kind words,' said Liz, a hysterical bubble of laughter beginning to rise in her throat. 'I quite realise what I must look like. To think that only a few moments ago I thought the afternoon might…' She clamped her lips together firmly and asked: 'How did you know where I was?'

  'I saw you leap over the stile,' answered Adam, his face still grim. 'They could have both drowned—and you with them!' He reached down and hauled her to her feet. 'Come along, you can't sit here all day.'

  It was still a pleasant, quiet Sunday afternoon with birds singing in a nearby tree and cows munching sleepily in the fields. Gritting her teeth to stop them chattering, Liz was grateful for the firm support of Adam's hand beneath her arm. She deliberately did not look down at the calm, muddy water as they crossed back over the lock.

  'Right,' said Adam, 'we'd better decide what to do for the best.' He considered a moment and continued: 'Your flat is the…'

  'I'd rather not,' broke in Liz with a rush.

  'Oh?'

  'One of the girls upstairs is getting engaged today and her fiancé's something to do with the Queensbridge Chronicle —he's bound to smell out a story if he sees me.' Seeing Adam's face, Liz gave a reluctant grin. 'Yes, well, perhaps that was the wrong word to use—in the circumstances, I do pong a bit, don't I? Anyway, Judy said they could use our flat, it's a bigger room and Judy had been invited anyway. I refuse,' she finished firmly, 'to walk into a roomful of strangers like this,' and picking up her cast-off sandals she turned and glared at him defiantly.

  'My dear girl, you're saturated, and I'm not much better.' He helped her over the stile and looked at her in exasperation. 'The sooner you get out of those wet clothes, the better.'

  Liz controlled her shivering with an effort. 'Couldn't we go on to my great-aunt's?'

  'I have no doubt that your great-aunt would be able to find something for you to wear, Elizabeth, but I was under the impression that she was a maiden lady?' He looked ruefully down at his sodden trousers and shoes which were a far cry from their immaculate appearance of earlier on. 'And in any case,' he went on, 'we're nearer to Queensbridge than we are to the cottage.' Eyes narrowed against the sun, he gave Liz a calculating look, then said with decision: 'Come along, Elizabeth. This is no time to stand around as if we were at the vicarage garden party!' and taking her arm, he led her to the Morgan and began to unclip the hood, quickly pulling it up into position. Liz retrieved strawberries and sandals, thrust her arms into her cardigan and gratefully accepted a car rug, which she wrapped around her like a cocoon. And then they were off.

  'Where are we going, Adam?' This came through a spell of uncontrollable shaking. Adam said calmly:

  'The only place that caters satisfactorily for us both and causes the least amount of fuss is mine.' There was silence while Liz digested this piece of information. 'And if Simon's in,' he continued dryly, 'we'll have him as a chaperone.'

  Not knowing how to reply to that, Liz was silent. She watched the speedometer needle creep round and snuggled deeper into her cocoon. After a moment she asked tentatively :

  'Could we telephone Mrs Russell at the village shop? My great-aunt isn't on the phone, but they'd take a message round.'

  He nodded assent and they lapsed into silence again. The car rug was rough to her skin but comforting. Liz didn't feel quite so cold now. She glanced sideways and studied the man at her side; noting the frown of concentration, the dark lashes, the tiny freckle on her tanned cheek. She became lulled by the drone of the engine and the smooth swaying of the car and gradually the horror of what might have happened back there at the canal receded. Her surroundings became sharply defined and highlighted; the smell of the leather upholstery mingling with the sweetness of the strawberries, Adam's long, sensitive hands gripping the steering wheel with easy assurance became an important focal point and Liz concentrated with an intensity out of all proportion on the slim fingers, the fine dark hairs and the now bright, now dull reflection of his wristwatch.

  The engine note changed and sooner tha
n expected they were swinging into Elmscourt and that now very familiar hand reached out and switched off the engine. Sitting quietly for a moment, Adam gave a searching look around the building and then swiftly got out and opened Liz's door. She clutched the rug and emerged awkwardly, trotting by his side as he led the way to the lift.

  'There doesn't seem to be anyone about,' commented Adam as the doors slid behind them. 'Must be all having a Sunday afternoon nap.'

  'I hope, for your sake, no one sees me, or else there'll be rumours going round that you've acquired an Indian squaw!' said Liz, realising what a comical figure she must look.

  'I've long ago learnt to ignore rumours,' answered Adam repressively.

  Yes, I bet you have, thought Liz, duly snubbed, following him along the corridor and into number fifteen. Crossing to the drinks table, he returned with a glass.

  'Here, drink this,' he ordered. 'Yes, I know you don't care for brandy, but you're shivering again and it will do you good.' Leaving her standing, still squaw-like, in the middle of the lounge, sipping the drink which tasted like medicine, he went into the bathroom and turned on the water. He returned, carrying a dressing gown and pyjamas.

  'This is the best I can do. They'll swamp you, I'm afraid, but it's not for long. Let me have your dress and I'll get the caretaker's wife to see to it. The rest of your clothes you can wash in the bathroom and hang over the rail, they shouldn't take too long to dry.'

  Liz shuffled into the bathroom, thankful that his manner was brisk and businesslike. She found to her dismay that either because her fingers were numb or the material wet, her dress zip would not go down. Struggling for a few moments, she gave it up and wandered back into the lounge. Looking hesitantly round, she heard the front door close and Adam came back into the room, saying briefly:

  'Simon isn't at home.'

  Liz's eyes widened, and she said with surprise: 'I thought you were joking—about the chaperone, I mean.'

  'I was, but if Simon had been in, you would have preferred to be with him, wouldn't you?' he asked indifferently. And I would be off your hands, thought Liz.

  'I can't undo the zip,' she said shortly, and turned her back. To her annoyance the wretched zip seemed to go down with comparative ease and with heightened colour she stalked back into the bathroom, ruthlessly stripped off the offending garment and opening the door slightly, flung it out. After a moment's uncertainty, she pushed the bolt gently. Not that she thought it necessary—Adam had shown quite plainly what a pain in the neck she was.

  Liz set to, enthusiastically repairing the damage done to her person and thirty minutes later emerged, if not a new woman, certainly a reconditioned one. When it came to donning her fancy dress she had to giggle. She rolled the arms and legs of the pyjamas to the required length and tying the belt of the paisley silk robe which was a la Noel Coward and very select, she gazed helplessly at herself in the mirror, reflecting that the present situation did nothing for the desire she had for maintaining a strictly impersonal relationship with her boss.

  She entered the lounge with a bravado which was completely wasted as it was empty. Sitting in front of the fire, she began to rub her hair with a towel. A delicious aroma of toast and coffee wafted from the kitchen and hunger pangs stirred. The door opened and a newly clad Adam emerged, carrying a tray. He looked her over critically.

  'A rather bizarre improvement, Elizabeth, and timed to perfection.'

  'You look better too, Adam.'

  'Thank you, I managed well enough in the kitchen while you hogged the bathroom.' He placed the tray on a low table and Liz set upon the hot buttered toast with relish.

  'I've telephoned the village shop and said we've been detained by car trouble. I thought that would be the best excuse.'

  Liz breathed a sigh of relief. 'What a good idea! I hope the Morgan won't take offence at being abused.' She frowned and said anxiously: 'Do you think we can keep it to ourselves?'

  He gazed thoughtfully at her. 'Do you mean you would rather no one knew what's happened?' Liz nodded. 'I don't know,' he answered slowly. 'The boy's parents may have told someone by now. We can try, though—if that's what you really want?'

  'Of course it is,' she insisted fervently. 'Nothing would appal me more than to have everyone going on and on about it. Anyway, I couldn't have managed him on my own.'

  Adam leant back in his chair, eyebrows raised. 'You really are an unassuming creature, aren't you? Of course you'd have managed. I only came in at the end. Don't you want your name in the headlines?'

  'You know I don't,' she protested.

  'Ah, yes, the Chronicle fiancé. I'd forgotten about him.'

  'You don't believe he exists! You think I said that so…'

  'Oh, but I do, Elizabeth,' he replied gently: 'I'm under no illusions where you're concerned. And that,' as the telephone rang, 'is probably our fisherman friend. Do please eat the last piece of toast. It would be such a pity to leave it.'

  Well, thought Liz crossly, excitement always makes me hungry, and he could have had some if he'd wanted. Following a one-sided conversation is always rather frustrating, so collecting the tray, she went into the kitchen and washed up. On her return, Adam was standing looking out of the window. He turned, saying:

  'Everything is all right. The family is understandably very upset and grateful and duly penitent. They thank you effusively. I've asked them to keep quiet about it, -but these things have a way of leaking out. The boys themselves will probably brag about it after the initial fright has worn off. We'll have to wait and see.' He moved to the record player and selected a record. 'Tell me what happened before I arrived on the scene.'

  Liz settled herself on the settee and duly related the events leading up to his own involvement, the words seeming curiously alien to the memory, as if she was telling a story about someone else. When she finished, they sat listening to the music and gradually Liz gave up fighting her drooping eyelids and slept.

  Her first thought when she woke was how comfortable she was. The second that it was quite late. Debussy had changed drastically to Shostakovitch. The light from the fire glowed brightly and Liz became aware of Adam, sitting in the armchair opposite, legs crossed, head back, lids half-lowered, his gaze contemplative. She sat up, realising that he had covered her with a quilt.

  'I'm so sorry, Adam. What a thing to do!'

  'Quite a natural reaction after your adventure. You were so soundly asleep that Helen's phone call didn't even wake you.'

  'Helen?'

  'Yes, they've just got back home and she wanted to speak to you. I said that she couldn't as you were fast asleep and I didn't want to disturb you.'

  There was a pause while he allowed this last remark to sink in. Shostakovitch was still filling the air and the dark eyes, staring almost clinically, never wavered. As the implications hit her, Liz's 'Oh?' came out rather guarded, to say the least. He grinned sardonically.

  'I didn't offer any explanations and Helen didn't ask for any, but then she wouldn't, would she? Not with my reputation.' His lips smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes. Liz, her thoughts a tumult, wondered if she would ever understand this man. What on earth had changed him from the kind, thoughtful Good Samaritan of this afternoon to the cynical, mocking sceptic of this evening? She threw back the quilt.

  'I'd better go.' She stared up at Adam, who now towered above her.

  'I'm afraid your reputation, Elizabeth, is in shreds. It seems such a pity to be blamed for something that hasn't happened.' His teeth gleamed white in the darkness.

  'You may have a reputation,' she said evenly, 'but so have I… and I have no fears whatsoever about mine.' The music reached a climax and ended, leaving the room oppressively silent. He pulled her to her feet. She felt unusually small and vulnerable standing before him in bare feet. His iron grip, so welcome this afternoon, now instinctively made her want to struggle, but she resisted the temptation and stood, impassive and silent, the veins in her wrists throbbing against his hands.

  'My dear
girl, Helen may be your sister, but like all women, she has a vivid imagination and no control over her tongue. That red-headed schemer must be feeling pretty pleased with herself by now.'

  'I am not your dear girl—and what has Helen to do with it?' demanded Liz, a dreadful suspicion beginning to dawn.

  'Surely you don't think it was just a coincidence that we met so often in London?' Adam Carlyon drawled derisively. Liz stared blankly at him for a moment as the dreadful suspicion became certainty. The blood rushed to her face. 'Exactly,' he remarked dryly.

  What, oh, what, Liz thought despairingly, has my beautiful imbecile of a sister let me in for? 'I don't suppose you'll believe me,' she managed, 'if I told you that I didn't know what she was doing?'

  'Oh, yes, Elizabeth, I'll believe you.'

  She stared at him in astonishment. 'Then why did you… I mean, why didn't you…?'

  'It suited me at the time to see how far Helen would go. I was also interested to see how far. you would go.'

  'I don't know how you have the…!'

  'But I must say, in all fairness, that I hadn't been in your company for very long before I was sure you were in ignorance.'

  'Thank you very much,' Liz said with heavy sarcasm. 'You must have had an amusing time!'

  'It could have been.' The dark eyes gleamed. The silence was broken by the harsh ring of the telephone. Adam crossed slowly and answered.

  'It's for you… Helen,' he said inscrutably, holding out the receiver. Reluctantly, Liz padded over, refusing to meet his eyes.

  'Lizzie, are you all right?' Helen demanded.

  'Of course I am,' Liz said, conscious of Adam's amusement. 'I just fell asleep on the settee, that's all.'

  'Oh. Well, I realise you can't talk now. Ring me later.'

  'Yes, I will,' said Liz, and put the telephone down gently. Adam looked at his watch.

  'You'll find your dress on the bathroom chair. Unfortunately… or perhaps fortunately, I have an appointment very soon, so I'll take you home now.' Then quite kindly, 'Don't worry about Helen, and don't worry about your reputation, child.' His voice deepened. 'I can assure you, it's quite safe with me.'