Innocent Sins Read online

  ‘Stella isn’t confined to her bed,’ she insisted. ‘Why would she say a thing like that?’

  ‘Perhaps she’s taken this harder than you think,’ drawled an infuriatingly familiar voice, and, glancing over her shoulder, Laura found her stepbrother lounging in the open doorway. The bristle of his overnight beard darkened his jawline and he was apparently still wearing the clothes he’d worn to go out in. His booted feet were crossed and his parka-clad shoulder was propped indolently against the jamb.

  ‘Oliver.’ Marcus Venning evidently viewed this intrusion with some relief. ‘How are you, my boy?’ He got to his feet. ‘I’m sorry we have to meet again at such an unhappy time.’

  ‘Yeah.’ As if finding his manners, Oliver straightened and came into the room to shake the old man’s hand. ‘It’s good to see you, too, Marcus. You’re looking well.’

  ‘Thank you.’ While Laura struggled to contain her indignation at the casual way Oliver had addressed the solicitor, Venning was visibly flattered by his comment. ‘So I don’t look as if I’m ready to be put out to grass yet?’

  ‘Never.’ Oliver grinned. ‘I hope my—sister’s been looking after you. As you’ve heard, Ma’s indisposed right now.’

  ‘Your sister—’

  ‘I’m not his sister,’ snapped Laura coldly. ‘And at least now that Oliver’s here he can confirm that his mother’s— confinement—is purely voluntary.’

  Oliver’s dark features tightened. ‘As I said before, I think Ma’s finding it all very distressing.’

  ‘Do you think I’m not?’

  Laura was indignant, but Oliver ignored her outburst. He looked at Venning. ‘You understand, don’t you, Marcus?’

  ‘What? Oh—I—well, of course.’ Marcus nodded, but Laura resented the look that passed between the two men at that moment. It hinted at an accord she couldn’t begin to share and she got up from her seat because she couldn’t bear to sit still any longer.

  ‘So—was there anything else?’ asked Oliver, taking over the conversation, and she stared angrily at him. How dared he behave as if she was too stupid to handle the situation herself?

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Marcus looked up from the briefcase he had collected from the table. ‘I did wonder if Laura might like to go and see her father before—before tomorrow.’ He reached out to pat her hand. ‘I’d be happy to accompany you, my dear.’

  ‘If she’d like to go, I’ll take her,’ declared Oliver at once, earning a look of outrage from his stepsister. But Laura was still trying to come to terms with the fact that Venning had meant her father’s body, which was lying in the Chapel of Rest at Rhosmawr, and couldn’t immediately think of any valid reason why she might refuse his offer. ‘I’m sure you’ve got other commitments, Marcus,’ Oliver added, just in case she was tempted. ‘There’s no need for you to put yourself out when Laura’s got family of her own.’

  Laura’s jaw dropped. The Kemps were not her family, she thought bitterly. But again Marcus Venning chose to accept her stepbrother’s offer at face value.

  ‘Well, if you’re sure, Oliver,’ he began. ‘I must admit, I am rather snowed under at the moment, if you’ll excuse the pun—’

  ‘I’d prefer to go on my own,’ Laura broke in, before he could go any further. She gave Oliver a contemptuous look. ‘I’m sure you understand.’

  ‘And how do you propose to get there and back?’ he enquired, his pleasant tone masking the glitter in his eyes. ‘You don’t have a car.’

  ‘Daddy does.’

  ‘You’re not planning on taking that old Daimler out in this weather—’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Look, there’s no need for this.’ Belatedly, Venning seemed to realise he had been a little premature in accepting Oliver’s suggestion on her behalf. ‘Laura can drive back to Rhosmawr with me.’

  ‘And how will she get back again?’ Oliver was frustratingly practical. ‘It’s okay, Marcus. We’ll work this out.’ He gave Laura a warning look. ‘Somehow.’

  Accompanying the old solicitor to the door, Laura found she was trembling. It wasn’t so much a reaction to what had been said—though she did find Oliver’s arrogance unbearable—as much as an increasing feeling of her own alienation here. This wasn’t her father’s house any more. The pictures, the furnishings, even the books that had been such an integral part of her childhood weren’t hers to enjoy any longer. And the car, which she had so blithely said she’d borrow, wasn’t hers to appropriate. Everything belonged to her stepmother now; and, by implication, to Oliver. No wonder he felt he could order her about. She was the outsider now, not him.

  With the door closed behind the solicitor, Laura would have escaped to her room, but Oliver moved to the foot of the stairs to block her way.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  Laura held up her head. ‘That’s my business.’

  ‘Do you want to go and see your father?’

  Laura’s shoulders sagged. ‘Look, don’t push me, Oliver. I know you feel you have the upper hand here, but if I want to go and see my father I’ll make my own arrangements, thank you.’

  Oliver groaned. ‘Why are you doing this? I’ve offered to take you, and I will. But—’ he sighed ‘—if you insist on going on your own, you can borrow my car.’

  Laura attempted to move round him. ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I can get a taxi.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ Oliver regarded her pityingly. ‘Do you honestly think you’re going to get a taxi driver to come all this way to pick you up, take you in to Rhosmawr and then bring you back again?’

  ‘Why not?’ she asked again, and he snorted.

  ‘Get real, Laura. This isn’t the States. Have you taken a look outside? The roads are treacherous. You may be lucky and persuade some sap to make the journey, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.’

  Laura shrugged. ‘Then I won’t go.’

  Oliver swore. ‘Can’t you at least meet me halfway here? I don’t offer the use of my car to just anyone. Take it in the spirit in which it’s given.’

  Laura hesitated. ‘I don’t know your car,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘And, like you said, it is slippery out there. I’d hate to run it into a tree or something. I’ve seen your car. It’s an expensive vehicle.’

  ‘To hell with the car,’ growled Oliver impatiently. ‘I’d care more if you damaged yourself.’

  Laura’s lips twitched. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  Laura bit her lip. ‘I suppose you’d better come with me,’ she muttered, aware that she really didn’t have a choice. She paused. ‘If you’ve got nothing better to do.’

  Oliver rolled his eyes. ‘And if I do?’

  ‘But you said—’

  He shook his head. ‘Get your coat,’ he said resignedly, and she realised he had only been teasing her. ‘I’ll go and start the engine.’

  Laura collected an ankle-length dark grey cashmere coat from her wardrobe to wear over the warm sweater and woollen trousers she’d put on that morning. Thick-soled Doc Martens ensured that her feet would remain dry and, gathering up her handbag, she hurried back downstairs.

  Deciding she ought to let Aunt Nell know what she was doing, she went to the kitchen first. Her aunt was baking, and she looked up expectantly when Laura came into the room. Then, seeing that she was dressed to go out, she said, ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I—er—I’m going into Rhosmawr with Oliver,’ replied Laura a little awkwardly. ‘Is that all right?’

  Her aunt blinked, transferring a smear of flour to her cheek as she brushed a greying hair behind her ear. ‘Has Marcus Venning gone?’

  ‘Oh—oh, yes.’ Laura had forgotten about the solicitor in her nervousness at going out with Oliver. ‘He went a few minutes ago. Sorry.’

  ‘So?’ Her aunt looked at her. ‘Are you going to tell me what he wanted?’

  ‘Well, yes.’ Laura frowned, trying to remember what the solicitor had said. ‘He’d
apparently had a call from Stella saying that she might not be well enough to attend the funeral—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s what I said.’ Laura pulled a wry face. ‘Apparently she told him that she’s confined to her bed.’

  ‘That’s the first I’ve heard of it.’

  ‘I said that, too.’ Laura grimaced. ‘I think she let Mr Venning think Dr Evans had prescribed total rest.’

  Nell said nothing to this. ‘Is that the only reason he came?’

  ‘No.’ Laura licked her lips. ‘I think he wanted to offer his condolences and—and to ask if I intended to go and see Daddy.’

  ‘Ah.’ The old woman nodded, and belatedly Laura realised that perhaps her aunt would like to come with them. ‘So that’s why Oliver is taking you to Rhosmawr.’

  ‘Yes.’ Laura hesitated. ‘Would you like to come, too?’

  ‘Why would I want to do that?’ Nell shook her head. ‘Wasn’t I here when the poor man was taken away?’

  Laura sucked in a breath. ‘I never thought.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Nell regarded her niece with concerned eyes. ‘Are you going to be all right?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Laura managed an upbeat response. ‘Someone has to be. According to Oliver, his mother is finding it hard to come to terms with her loss.’

  ‘Her loss!’ Her aunt was scathing. ‘That woman has never cared about anyone but herself.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’ Laura didn’t think she could stand any more unpleasantness. Not right now. ‘I mean, it must have been awful for her, finding Daddy’s—body and all.’

  The older woman shrugged. ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Oh, Aunt Nell, I know you don’t like her—nor do I—but we all have to pull together at a time like this. Don’t we?’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ said Oliver, coming into the kitchen as he spoke. ‘Are you ready?’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The sun was shining when they came out of the funeral home.

  In Rhosmawr, the thaw was much more pronounced than in Penmadoc with only the occasional pile of slush at the side of the road to remind its residents of the previous week’s storms.

  Oliver had parked around the corner from the home and he sensed that Laura was glad to feel the warmth of the sun on her head as they walked back to the car. Seeing her father might have given her a sense of closure but he guessed that she wished she hadn’t had to do it. The still, almost shrunken figure lying in the coffin had born little resemblance to the vibrant man she remembered, and he thought he saw her shiver as she climbed into the Jeep. ‘You okay?’

  He glanced her way as he got behind the wheel and Laura nodded. Despite the way she’d objected to his highhandedness earlier, he hoped she had been glad of his company during the ordeal.

  ‘Fine,’ she said at last, as if sensing that he was waiting for her to say something. ‘Um—thanks for coming with me.’

  Oliver’s lips twisted. ‘Yeah,’ he said, not believing her but deciding it wasn’t worth arguing over. He started the engine. ‘Back to Penmadoc, right?’

  ‘I mean it.’ Before he could put the car into gear, Laura drew off her glove and touched his sleeve. ‘I am glad I wasn’t on my own.’

  The impact of those slim fingers gripping his sleeve was electrifying. Although he was sure she wasn’t aware of it, he felt as if a magnetic current was penetrating the thickness of the cloth. His pulse quickened; he could hear its clamour ringing in his head, and he stifled a groan of protest. For God’s sake, what was happening to him? This was Laura, remember? Whatever immature emotions she had aroused in him were long gone, and the idea that he was having a sexual response now was not only unbelievable, it was insensitive and pathetic.

  Something about his attitude, about the way he was staring at her, perhaps, caused Laura to withdraw her hand now, but the heat she’d generated inside him didn’t subside. On the contrary, his palms were unpleasantly slick as they gripped the steering wheel and there was a definite feeling of fullness between his legs.

  ‘Don’t you believe me?’ she asked, and a shudder of relief feathered his spine. At least she hadn’t interpreted his behaviour the way he had, he thought with some relief. Her tongue appeared to moisten her lips. ‘He looked very— peaceful, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Oliver dragged his eyes away from that pink tongue and thrust the Jeep into gear. Then, after checking that the road behind them was clear, he swung out to join the traffic. Thankfully, his actions were automatic and didn’t require too much in the way of brainpower. Which was just as well, because his brain felt like mashed banana at that moment.

  ‘I wondered...’ She was obviously unaware of his turmoil and didn’t even flinch when he went though a set of traffic lights as they were turning red. ‘Why don’t we have lunch on the way home?’

  ‘Lunch?’ His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. ‘Isn’t your aunt expecting you back?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Laura regarded him out of the corners of her eyes. ‘Is that your way of saying you don’t want to have lunch with me?’

  ‘It’s not that.’ Though God knew it was. Oliver took a calming breath. ‘Okay. Why not? Where do you want to go?’

  ‘I thought you might know somewhere,’ she said quickly, lifting her shoulders. ‘But perhaps it’s not such a good idea. Your mother is bound to wonder where we are.’

  Oliver had no desire to get into what his mother might think about him consorting with the enemy. Well, her enemy as she saw it, he conceded drily. ‘Forget it,’ he said, before he could change his mind. ‘There’s bound to be a hotel on the edge of town.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’

  Her tone was much cooler now, and he sensed a rekindling of the hostility she’d shown towards him up till now. He guessed she was probably regretting making the offer. The feeling of sympathy they’d shared after leaving the funeral home was fast dissipating, and he cursed himself for allowing sex to govern his response. It was only lunch, dammit. Just because he’d become aroused when she’d laid her hand on him that was not her fault.

  ‘I’m sure,’ he said now, forcing himself to pay attention to their surroundings. ‘Look, there’s the Rhosmawr Moat House. Is that okay?’

  Laura shrugged and he suspected she was having a hard time recovering her enthusiasm. ‘If you like,’ she said indifferently, and his mouth compressed. He’d asked for this, he thought irritably. It was his fault that she’d got totally the wrong impression.

  They parked the car on the forecourt and picked their way around the pools of melting snow to the conservatory restaurant. Inside, the heat from more than a score of bodies had steamed the glass so it was impossible to see through the windows, but it was light and warm and friendly, and a pretty blonde waitress bustled over immediately to show them to a table in the corner.

  ‘Can I get you anything to drink?’ she asked, after they were seated, and Oliver arched an enquiring brow at his companion.

  ‘Urn—probably just orange juice,’ she said, sliding her arms out of her coat and draping it over the back of her chair. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Orange juice?’ Oliver sounded as exasperated as he felt. ‘Wouldn’t you prefer a glass of wine?’

  ‘You’re driving.’

  ‘That’s right. I’m driving,’ he agreed, giving the waitress an apologetic look. ‘You’re not.’

  Laura’s cheeks had turned a little pink now. ‘All right. A glass of white wine, then,’ she said shortly, and he wanted to groan aloud.

  ‘Fine,’ he said instead, forcing a smile for the waitress. ‘And I’ll have a beer. The non-alcoholic kind. Thanks.’

  Laura frowned as the girl walked away and, guessing what she was thinking, Oliver blew out a breath. ‘I don’t drink and drive,’ he said, controlling his impatience with an effort.

  Her shoulders gave a little bob. ‘Oh—good. Nor do I.’

  Oliver breathed heavily. ‘So, is it okay?’

  ‘It’s n
othing to do with me what you drink.’

  ‘No, it’s not. But that’s not what I meant.’ Oliver indicated the conservatory restaurant. ‘Do you like this place?’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Laura barely glanced around her. ‘Do you come here a lot?’

  ‘I’ve never been here before,’ he said, shrugging out of his parka. Then he asked, suspiciously, ‘Did you think I had?’

  Laura toyed with her cutlery. ‘I thought you must know the waitress,’ she said offhandedly, and he caught back an oath.

  ‘Why would you think that?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Although she wasn’t looking at him, he could see she was uncomfortable now. ‘She seemed very familiar.’

  Oliver gasped. ‘She was being friendly, that’s all.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Laura didn’t sound convinced. She picked up the laminated menu that stood on the middle of the table. ‘Do we choose from this?’

  ‘Why ask me?’ Oliver was having a hard time hanging on to his temper. Then, because it wasn’t really her fault, he said, ‘Yeah. I guess so. Are you hungry?’

  ‘Not very.’ Laura scanned the menu without enthusiasm. ‘I think I’ll just have a tuna sandwich.’

  ‘Right.’ Oliver took the menu from her and made his own examination. ‘I’ll have a sandwich, too.’ He breathed a little more easily. ‘Here’s our drinks.’

  The waitress was very friendly, he noticed reluctantly. She smiled as she set down his beer and gazed at him with wide blue eyes when he gave their order. ‘White or wholemeal?’ she asked, after making a note of their selections. ‘I suppose you’re used to being offered loads of choices. When I was in Florida last year, I was amazed at how many different types of bread there were.’

  ‘We’re not Americans,’ said Oliver, feeling obliged to answer her, and the girl gave Laura a questioning look.

  ‘But I thought—’

  ‘I’ve lived in the States for the past eight years but he’s very definitely English,’ explained Laura tolerantly, and Oliver intercepted the humorous look she cast in his direction. ‘What part of Florida did you visit?’