The Japanese Screen. Anne Mather
left her for a moment in the reception hall to speak to a man who looked like a manager of some sort. When he came back he put his hand beneath her elbow and led her towards the lift. She looked at him with startled eyes and his expression relaxed a little.
‘I thought we might dine in my suite, Susannah,’ he explained quietly. ‘Do you have any objections?’
Susannah sought about in her mind for a suitable reply. She felt sure that in Spain he would never dream of taking a woman to dine in his suite, but she didn’t know how to make the protest.
‘Is – is there something wrong with dining in the restaurant?’ she inquired unevenly.
‘No.’ Fernando halted, looking down at her. ‘Would you prefer that?’
Susannah pressed her lips together rather unhappily. If she was honest she would admit that she would not prefer that at all. But what respect could he have for a woman who would agree to dine in his suite?
Now, she licked her lips and said: ‘If you would – rather not be seen with me—’
She had never seen anyone look so angry. Without a word, he turned and walked back across the reception area, leaving her again while he spoke to the man she had thought was the manager. Then he came back to her. She had shed her cape, but not even the attractiveness of her appearance lifted the cold anger from his eyes.
The next hour was the worst period of Susannah’s young life. The exceptional quality of the food was lost on her, and she noticed that Fernando ate little himself, merely drinking liberally of the wine and making a pretence of enjoying the steak and salad he had chosen. She was unutterably relieved when it was over and he suggested they should leave the restaurant.
In the reception area again, she collected her cape and looked at him nervously. ‘If – if you’d rather not take me home, señor, I shall quite understand,’ she murmured, in a small voice.
There was silence for a few moments and then she heard him heave a deep sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Susannah,’ he said, and she thought he sounded strained. ‘I’ve been – how do you say it – a pig all evening!’ He shook his head, running a hand round the back of his neck, and tugging at the hair on his nape. ‘How will you ever forgive me?’
Susannah trembled. ‘It was my fault—’ she began, but he interrupted her.
‘No, it was mine. You were quite right to refuse my invitation. It would have been a – dangerous situation, and you were right to avoid it. I am sorry.’
Susannah’s eyes were wide as she stared at him, and with an exclamation, he said: ‘Come! I will take you home. I have an early start in the morning.’
Susannah hung back now. His words chilled her more than his attitude all evening had done, even though they were spoken with warmth and gentleness. Without moving, she looked all about her and said: ‘What an attractive building this is. I’ve never been here before. Does it accommodate a lot of people?’
‘A reasonable number,’ he remarked dryly. ‘And surely you know that as well as I do.’
‘Yes.’ Susannah still lingered. ‘You said you had a suite. What does that consist of?’
Fernando ran his palm down his shirt front, unconsciously drawing Susannah’s attention to the fact that he wore nothing beneath it. ‘A suite can consist of many rooms or only a few,’ he replied briefly.
‘Does your suite have many rooms?’
Fernando adjusted the knot of his tie. ‘Does it matter?’ Then, as her eyes clouded, he added: ‘I have a small suite – two bedrooms, a lounge, a bathroom. Does that satisfy you?’
Susannah looked down at her hands. ‘Could I see it?’
There was another pregnant silence, and finally Fernando said: ‘I don’t think that would be a very good idea, Susannah,’ in terse tones.
She looked up. ‘You sound – angry. Why?’
Fernando took her arm impatiently. ‘It’s time we were leaving, Susannah. Come along. I’ll take you home.’
Susannah made no further demur. Her small spurt of recklessness had been extinguished, and she wished she had not been so foolish. In the car, she stole a surreptitious glance at her watch. Was it only a quarter to ten? It seemed much longer than ninety minutes since she had been waiting so eagerly for him to come.
He drove away from the hotel and along the Embankment. Susannah could see the shadows on the river, and on the opposite bank there were the lights of the Festival Hall. The muted sounds of a ship’s siren sounded mournfully across the water and she shivered. Its sad lament suited her mood. Since leaving the hotel Fernando had said nothing at all, and she was overpoweringly aware that she had quickly destroyed his momentary sense of contrition at the boorishness of his behaviour. After tonight she would probably never see him again, and she couldn’t help but think that he would be glad to be rid of her.
In a very short time they were drawing up in Lorrimer Terrace and Susannah waited impatiently for the car to stop so that she could get out. Misery cloaked her like an almost physical presence, and she couldn’t understand why this man, whom she had known less than a week, should have become so important to her. He didn’t care about her, that was obvious. He might find her physically attractive, that she had to accept, as witness his suggestion that they should dine in his suite that evening; but it had been a fleeting attraction which had not survived more than an hour in her company, and she burned with humiliation when she recalled how afterwards she had practically invited him to take advantage of her.
As soon as the car drew to a halt, she reached for the door handle, but was stayed when he said quietly: ‘Just one minute, Susannah. Please.’
She sat back in her seat, withdrawing her hand inside her cape again, glad of its concealing folds to hide her trembling nervousness. Her companion switched off the engine, and sat in silence for a few moments. Then he half turned towards her, one arm along the back of her seat.
‘I can’t let you go like this,’ he said, in a low voice. ‘I know I’ve been a brute this evening, but—’ He shook his head. ‘I ought not to have invited you out again. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry if I’ve made you miserable.’
Susannah’s throat felt choked. The last thing she had expected was for him to apologize to her. ‘That – that’s all right,’ she managed. ‘I – I shouldn’t have accepted.’
‘Oh, Susannah!’ He looked across at her in the gloom, and she could see the glitter of his eyes. ‘What can I say? What can I do? I’m leaving tomorrow. There is no time to show you that I mean what I say.’
‘Oh, please …’ Susannah was near to tears, and they would be the final humiliation. ‘Thank – thank you for a pleasant evening – oh!’
She broke off on a gasp as she felt his fingers against her neck, under the weight of her hair. They moved with a certain sureness to her throat, releasing the catch of her cape so that he could slide it from her shoulders. Then he moved a little closer, uttering an imprecation in his own language at the barrier caused by the gear console.
Susannah remained perfectly still, not looking at him, not making any attempt to encourage or discourage him. She didn’t believe this was really happening. Even when she felt the heat of his body through the silk of his shirt that brushed her arm, she told herself that she was exaggerating his nearness. She couldn’t really feel the pressure of his thigh against hers, or smell the faint aroma of shaving lotion and tobacco that clung to his clothes. And yet it seemed real enough, and there was another scent, too – the warm male scent of his body that seemed to be reaching out and enveloping her in a warm and intimate atmosphere. She trembled. She had to be sensible about this. Just because she was experiencing the most wanton desires towards this man she must not imagine that he felt the same way towards her.
‘Susannah.’ His breath warmed her ear. ‘Look at me. Please – look