Savage Awakening Read online

  Why? Fliss stifled the sob of hysteria that rose in her throat. How was she supposed to answer that? ‘Well—well, because we don’t want to worry him, do we?’ And that was the truth. She took a breath and then continued firmly, ‘You know he wasn’t very keen on us going out today. We don’t want to give him anything else to—to—’

  ‘To complain about?’ suggested Amy shrewdly, and Fliss reflected that her daughter was growing up fast.

  ‘Sort of,’ she said now, not wanting to feel guilty about her father, too. ‘And we have had a lovely day, haven’t we?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Amy nodded. ‘I really like Quinn, don’t you?’

  ‘Mr Quinn,’ Fliss corrected her swiftly, and Amy pulled a face.

  ‘You call him Matt.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘You do. I heard you tell Grandad that it was me who let Harvey into Matt’s garden.’

  ‘You hear too much!’ exclaimed Fliss shortly. ‘Anyway, that doesn’t matter now.’ She took a breath. ‘So, we’re agreed? We won’t say anything to Grandad about my—bite.’

  ‘OK.’

  Amy gave a dismissive shrug of her shoulders and Fliss had to be content with that. In any case, they’d reached the far side of the churchyard now, and it would only take them another minute to reach the cottage. No more time to coach her daughter, no more time to prepare herself for her father’s interrogation.

  But, in the event, George Taylor wasn’t at home. Although the Fiesta was parked on the short drive, both he and Harvey were absent. Fliss guessed he’d taken the dog for a walk and would probably be calling in at the pub for a drink before coming home. It gave her the opportunity to go and take a shower and change her clothes before he came in.

  It occurred to her that the reason the car had been left on the drive was that her father expected her to go to the supermarket in Westerbury when she got back. But the shopping would have to wait, she decided. There was always tomorrow and she really wanted to get out of these clothes.

  In consequence, Amy was sprawled on the sofa in the living room watching television and Fliss was stirring a pan of bolognaise at the stove when her father and Harvey returned.

  As usual, Harvey took the edge off any atmosphere that still lingered, and, determined not to bear a grudge, Fliss greeted her father with a cheerful smile. ‘Supper’s almost ready.’

  ‘Good.’

  If there was still a note of hostility in his voice, Fliss chose to ignore it. Instead she ran a surreptitious hand around the neckline of her high-necked sweater, assuring herself that the mark Matt had left couldn’t be seen. Then, turning back to the table, she placed two wine glasses beside their plates. ‘I thought I’d open a bottle of that claret Patrick sent you,’ she went on, trying to act as if they hadn’t had that unpleasant contretemps that morning. Then, when he didn’t respond, ‘Have you had a nice day?’

  She heard him suck in a breath. ‘Do you care?’ he enquired at last, and Fliss turned back to the hob to hide her resigned expression.

  ‘Of course I care.’

  ‘But not enough to give up any invitation that comes your way,’ he retorted. ‘Despite the fact that I expressed my disapproval of this particular relationship.’

  Fliss sighed. ‘I have to make my own decisions, Dad,’ she said evenly. She hesitated. ‘I like Mr Quinn. And so does Amy.’

  Her father snorted. ‘And that settles it, does it? You know next to nothing about this man, Felicity. Why would you consider his opinion more important than mine?’

  Fliss gasped, turning to face him again. ‘You’re being unreasonable, Dad,’ she said. ‘I’m not having an affair with him, for heaven’s sake!’ Though she’d come damn close to it, she had to admit. ‘We’re—friends, that’s all. What on earth is wrong with that?’

  ‘You do know he’s engaged to Diane Chesney, don’t you?’

  ‘He’s not!’

  Now, why had she said that?

  ‘He denied it, I gather?’ George Taylor’s lips curled scornfully. ‘I have to ask myself in what circumstances such an intimate confidence would be expressed.’

  Fliss pressed her lips together, but she couldn’t let him go on thinking the worst. ‘The phone started ringing as we were leaving,’ she said defensively. ‘I said it was probably his fiancée and he said—he said he didn’t have a fiancée.’

  ‘And you believed him, of course?’

  Fliss shook her head. ‘You’re going to make something of it whatever I say,’ she replied flatly. She didn’t like to think what he’d say if he ever found out what they’d been doing since they got back. ‘Amy!’ She called the little girl’s name to put an end to the discussion, and to distract her own thoughts from how devastatingly sensual Matt’s kiss had been. ‘Come and get your supper. It’s ready.’

  The meal smelled delicious, and no doubt it tasted that way, too, but Fliss couldn’t enjoy it. Tension simmered around the table—and not just the tension of knowing that her father didn’t approve of Matt, either. She also lived in fear of Amy saying something she shouldn’t, and it didn’t help when her father started asking the child how she’d enjoyed her day.

  It was a sneaky way of finding out what they’d done and Fliss hoped the look she gave her father conveyed what she thought of his methods. But Amy was only too happy to describe the outing in detail, telling her grandfather how Matt had taken her swimming and that they’d all gone to McDonald’s for lunch.

  ‘That must be why your mother’s not eating her supper,’ he commented pleasantly. ‘She’s not hungry.’ He paused. ‘Or perhaps she’s too warm. I must say, a high-necked jumper and denim jeans do seem excessive for a warm evening like this.’

  Fliss stiffened. ‘I was cold,’ she said quickly. ‘You know what it’s like if you’ve been sunburned. You feel chilly later on.’

  ‘That’s right,’ chimed Amy, even though Fliss had hoped to divert her. ‘Mummy got really sunburned. All down her—’ She met her mother’s warning stare and broke off awkwardly. ‘I mean—all down her arms.’

  George Taylor was not deceived, Fliss could tell. The glance he gave her confirmed he’d intercepted the look she’d directed at Amy. ‘All down her arms, eh?’ he said, half-maliciously. ‘Did Mr Quinn get burned, too?’

  ‘Oh, no, but he’s got these awful marks on his back that he got when he was in prison!’ Amy exclaimed, clearly deciding her mother couldn’t object to her talking about Matt. ‘I didn’t like them at first, but he—’

  ‘Amy!’

  Her mother’s angry use of her name silenced the child, but George Taylor wasn’t half so easy to control. ‘She was only being honest,’ he said, leaning across the table and patting his granddaughter’s hand. Then he looked at Fliss again. ‘I hope you’ve put some cream on your arms. You know how sensitive your skin is.’

  ‘I’ll survive,’ said Fliss shortly, swallowing a mouthful of wine before getting up to clear the dirty plates away. ‘Does anyone want ice cream?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Amy at once, soon recovering her confidence, but George Taylor shook his head.

  ‘I’ve had enough,’ he said. ‘I think I’ll go and sit in the garden for a while. Come and join me when you’re finished, Amy. I’d love to hear some more about your trip.’

  On Monday morning Matt woke with a hangover, which was hardly surprising considering he’d drunk the best part of a bottle of single malt the night before.

  But Sunday had been a bloody awful day. He’d woken before dawn, disgruntled and soaked in sweat, with the tangible remains of the erotic dream he’d been having still tingling in his groin. He was half-aroused, but he knew better than to imagine it meant anything in his present condition. Morning erections were a thing of the past and the sooner he accepted it the better.

  It was easier said than done, however. Frustration didn’t go away. It still ate at him like a terminal illness, polluting his confidence and screwing up his head. And his attempted seduction of Fliss the day before had only add
ed to his depression.

  For it was Fliss again who had destroyed his rest; Fliss, whose warm, expressive face and lush body had haunted his sleep. She’d been beside him this time, her fiery hair spread across his pillow, her white limbs entwined with his. Her full breasts had tantalised him, swollen and round beneath his hand. When he’d moved closer her legs had parted invitingly, and the tight curls that were all that barred his way were as fiery as her hair.

  But it was when he’d pushed into her that he’d experienced real pleasure. Even in his subconscious state, he’d responded to the physical pull of his senses. She’d been so hot and wet and deliciously tight, her muscles closing around him, silently urging him on.

  And he’d wanted to go on. With her hands cupping his buttocks, her hips lifting to meet his, she’d been desire personified. He thought he’d groaned as she climaxed around him, the reality of his ineptitude intruding at last.

  He shuddered now. He’d felt her orgasm, he thought. He’d actually smelled the musky aroma of sex before the images had slipped away. But slip away they had, leaving him to fight his own demons, as weak and defeated as he’d ever felt since he’d come home.

  Which was why he’d spent Sunday morning working in the garden. He’d found an ancient lawnmower in the back of the garage and, after siphoning some petrol out of the Land Cruiser, he’d managed to cut the grass at the front of the house. It wasn’t very well done, but it had briefly satisfied his need for action. Then he’d gathered a spade and fork and recklessly dug the weeds out of the flower border.

  Of course, by lunchtime, his limbs had been trembling with fatigue, and not even a hot bath had eased the pain in his back and thighs. But at least the pain was a physical thing, something he could deal with. Not a pathetic illusion serviced by a phantom.

  Diane had rung in the afternoon and he’d had to answer it. He couldn’t go on ignoring his calls, but he had made a note to buy an answering machine the next time he went into town.

  He’d entertained the brief hope that it might be his mother. But of course it wasn’t, and naturally Diane had been peeved that he’d been out the previous day. He hadn’t mentioned Fliss. He’d let Diane think he’d been alone, embroidering his story by saying that he hadn’t got back until quite late.

  ‘But what were you doing?’ Diane asked irritably. ‘I thought the whole idea of you moving to the country was that you could get some rest and quiet.’

  ‘What makes you think anything’s changed?’ he countered, annoyed that she felt she had the right to make judgements. ‘I went to the coast, if you must know. I felt like some sea air.’

  ‘Sea air?’ Diane snorted. ‘You?’ She sounded amused. ‘Darling, when you want sea air you fly to Cannes or St Tropez. Not some leaky resort on the south coast.’

  ‘That’s only your opinion.’

  ‘It used to be yours, too!’ Diane exclaimed, her humour vanishing. Then, with an obvious effort, ‘Look, why don’t we do that next weekend, mmm? Fly to Cannes, I mean. I imagine Hugh’s boat’s still moored there. He’d be happy to have you use it. It might persuade him that you weren’t serious when you told him to stuff his job.’

  ‘But I was serious,’ said Matt flatly. ‘And, for the record, I didn’t tell him to stuff his job.’ Hugh Gregory had been his boss at Thames Valley News and he was still a good friend. ‘In any case, I don’t have any desire to fly to Cannes. I’m perfectly happy here.’

  ‘Well, I’m not,’ retorted Diane bitterly. ‘And if you think I want to spend my days baking cakes for the local jumble sale or fielding a stall at the church fête, you’re mistaken.’

  ‘In other words, you don’t want to be like your mother,’ remarked Matt drily and Diane reacted with predictable vehemence.

  ‘No, I don’t,’ she snapped peevishly. ‘Nor do I want to be like Fliss Taylor either.’ She paused, as if the name had set off some extra-sensory premonition. ‘Have you seen her again, by the way?’

  Matt sighed. He could lie, but what was the point? ‘Well, as she works for me, I’d say that was a no-brainer,’ he replied evenly. ‘I’m surprised your mother didn’t tell you.’

  ‘You’ve given her a job!’ He’d expected an angry outburst and he wasn’t disappointed. ‘My God, Matt, how could you do such a thing? You know how I feel about that woman.’

  Matt only stopped himself from saying that he didn’t give a damn how she felt about it with an effort. Instead, he remained civil as he said, ‘She’s a good housekeeper, Diane. Why shouldn’t I employ her? She knows this house better than I do.’

  ‘Do you think I care if she’s good at her job?’ Diane was incensed. ‘And to think, I almost drove down to see you yesterday when you didn’t answer your phone. I was worried about you, Matt. But I’d have been mortified if I’d discovered Fliss Taylor was there.’

  He’d have been mortified, too, Matt acknowledged, remembering what he’d been doing the previous afternoon. It would have been horribly embarrassing if Diane had turned up at the house. But that was all, he realised with some amazement. He’d have been embarrassed, but not altogether sorry if she’d found him with Fliss. It would have been easier than having to go on pretending they had a future together.

  But he could hardly tell her that over the phone, and, choosing the least provocative option, he said, ‘Fliss doesn’t work Saturdays.’ Which had the virtue of being true.

  ‘Big deal.’ Diane was not appeased, her tone turning from resentment to petulance. ‘I miss you, Matt. I can’t believe you’re going to stay there indefinitely.’ She sniffed. ‘You haven’t even said you’re sorry I didn’t make the trip.’

  ‘Diane—’

  ‘No, I mean it, Matt. I’m beginning to think you don’t care about me at all,’ she broke in, her voice rising as she spoke. ‘If you did, you’d be interested in why I couldn’t come. You’d want to know where I was and who I was with.’

  Matt blew out a breath. ‘OK, tell me,’ And then, when she didn’t immediately answer him, he added, ‘I guess it was something to do with the gallery, yeah?’

  Diane hesitated, but as he’d expected she couldn’t resist boasting about her achievements. ‘Actually, Tony arranged for us to go to Winchester,’ she said triumphantly, obviously expecting him to be impressed. ‘To see the Charteris Collection. Can you believe that? I mean, the curator almost never allows members of the public to see it, but Tony has a friend who has a friend and he organised it just for me. Wasn’t that darling of him?’

  Matt suppressed a wry smile. ‘Darling,’ he agreed mockingly, and he heard her expel an angry breath.

  ‘Of course, I might have known you’d make fun of me,’ she snapped, and Matt felt contrite.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, not wanting to upset her unnecessarily. ‘But forgive me, I don’t know what the Charteris Collection is.’

  Diane huffed, but she obviously wanted to tell him, and she spent the next few minutes describing the collection of antique snuff boxes in great detail. ‘The colours were amazing,’ she added. ‘Tony and I were absolutely overwhelmed. Of course, he is an expert in fine arts and jewellery, and these little boxes used to be carried by absolutely everyone.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ agreed Matt, and then could have bitten out his tongue when Diane pounced on his sardonic response.

  ‘There you go again!’ she exclaimed. ‘You can’t resist it, can you? My work means ab—practically nothing to you. That’s why you think I should give it up and move back to Mallon’s End.’

  ‘I’ve never suggested you should give up your job to move back to Mallon’s End,’ Matt replied wearily. ‘I made it clear, right from the start, that this was what I wanted to do. Nothing else.’

  ‘In other words, I don’t matter,’ Diane snorted. ‘You know, I really think you don’t care where I go or what I do.’ She paused, and then continued defiantly, ‘If I told you Tony and I had spent the night together in Winchester, you’d probably still have that smug note in your voice.’

  ‘Sorry,
’ said Matt, but he didn’t sound it. He paused. ‘So, did you?’

  ‘Did I what?’

  Matt’s mouth compressed. He was tempted not to play her game, but perhaps it would be easier for both of them if he did. ‘Did you sleep with him?’ he repeated, and once again she gave an outraged gasp.

  ‘Of course I didn’t sleep with him,’ she cried.

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’

  Matt took a gamble. ‘Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?’ he suggested mildly. ‘You didn’t remain celibate all the time I was away.’

  ‘Matt!’ She sounded horrified. ‘How can you say such a thing? I was positively devastated when you went missing. Ask your mother. She’ll tell you. She was the only person I could turn to, the only one who understood how I was feeling.’

  ‘So Corbett was lying, was he?’

  ‘Tony?’ She caught her breath, confused. ‘What do you mean?’

  Matt chose his words with care. ‘He told me he’d comforted you,’ he responded casually. ‘That you’d turned to him when you needed—emotional relief.’

  There was silence for so long that Matt had begun to think she’d hung up on him. But then she burst out chokingly, ‘Don’t pretend you care!’ And Matt knew his gamble had paid off. He’d suspected for some time that Diane’s relationship with her boss had changed significantly. He’d just never had the opportunity to test his theory before.

  Before he could explain, however, Diane spoke again. ‘When did he tell you?’ she demanded. A sob thickened her words. ‘He swore—he swore he’d never do anything to break us up.’

  ‘He didn’t.’ Matt heard her sudden intake of breath and continued flatly, ‘I may seem brain-dead to you, Diane, but I’m not stupid.’

  ‘You mean—’

  ‘I was only guessing,’ he admitted tiredly. ‘Corbett said nothing to me.’

  ‘You bastard!’

  Diane didn’t pretend to mince her words now and Matt decided he deserved that. ‘We’ve both been looking for a way to end this, Diane,’ he told her gently. ‘It was good while it lasted, but you and I have both moved on.’