Sharon Kendrick Collection. Sharon Kendrick
only beginning to realise that now.’
‘I felt such a heel when he rang,’ said Martha sadly. ‘And such a fool. Because I liked Cormack, really liked him. So did Michael. We still do.’
‘If it’s any comfort to you, then I feel a heel too,’ said Triss miserably.
‘Darling, you should have confided in me.’
‘You would have told him.’
‘Ye-es,’ agreed Martha slowly. ‘But would that have been so very awful, Triss? He would have stood by you, supported you—’
‘And I could not have taken that impartial kind of support from Cormack!’ declared Triss hotly. ‘Not at that stage! Not when I was still so much in love with him and the relationship was over.’
‘Triss, are you quite sure it was over?’ quizzed Martha gently.
‘He started having a relationship with someone else!’ sobbed Triss. ‘How sure can you get?’
‘Maybe he—’
‘Maybe nothing! Because during that relationship he and I met at a party and tumbled into bed together, and that was how Simon was conceived! And if he was capable of committing infidelity while he was in a relationship with someone else, then what the hell was he doing all the time he was with me?’
Martha’s voice sounded worried. ‘Triss—’
But Triss raged on, unable to stop. ‘Remember all those photos taken of him with adoring women while I was on the other side of the world?’ she demanded.
‘You mean the ones your mother went to so much trouble to make sure you would see?’ enquired Martha caustically.
‘And I’m grateful to her!’ declared Triss wildly. ‘Otherwise how else would I have known?’
‘Triss—’
‘At the time he tried to convince me that they meant nothing, Martha! But how could I ever be sure? That’s the main reason I left him—because I could not stand living with the jealousy he made me feel!’
All the anger and the bitterness came bubbling out, like poison spilling out of a witch’s cauldron. ‘He hurt me, Martha! He hurt me so badly that I honestly thought I couldn’t keep going—but I had to keep going, for Simon’s sake. And the only thing which kept me going was the thought that one day I would hurt him back.’
‘An eye for an eye, you mean?’ queried her sister-in-law acidly.
‘If you like.’
‘Revenge is a very negative act, you know, Triss—’
‘So is betrayal.’
‘Triss, have you actually talked to him about it?’
‘No.’
‘Listen...’ Martha sighed. ‘He’s going to be staying with you, isn’t he?’
‘Did he tell you that?’
Martha laughed. ‘No—ever since I’ve become a consultant obstetrician I’ve developed powers of clairvoyancy! Of course he told me—how else would I know? Come on, Triss. I know everything about the whole situation is a little heavy, but try to lighten up a little, for goodness’ sake! Not to mention for your sake—and Simon’s—and—dare I mention it?—Connack’s too!’
Triss managed a small smile. ‘Sorry. I know I’m Gloom of the Year at the moment! What were you going to say?’
‘Just that we could come over—if you like. For lunch on Sunday, if it’s a fine day. It might help to ease the atmosphere between you. And if other people are around—well, you can’t just go at one another hammer and tongs, now, can you?’
It sounded like a good idea. ‘I’ll call you,’ said Triss. ‘Listen, I have to go—there’s someone at the door and it’s probably Cormack.’
‘Go, then—and good luck,’ said Martha. ‘And ring me! OK?’
‘I will. Bye!’
Triss felt as nervous as a child going to school for the first time as she pulled open the door.
Cormack was standing there looking absolutely scrumptious, and Triss felt her heart sinking with despair. He had no right to look that good, she thought to herself. No right at all!
He had changed from the black leather and was dressed now with an almost quiet conservatism—which, conversely, only made him look all the more elementally sexy: pristine white jeans and a slubsilk shirt in palest blue, with a much darker blue sweater knotted casually around his neck. From his finger swung a soft navy jacket.
His blue eyes glinted, although Triss could not be sure if it was with devilment or irritation.
‘Finished?’ he queried softly, and Triss realised to her horror that she had been ogling him like a groupie!
‘Come in!’ she said hastily.
He entered the hall with a thoughtful kind of dignity, as if he had not been there earlier that day, and Triss felt unaccountably nervous. She noticed, too, that he carried a brown leather holdall, presumably containing enough clothes for...how long?
‘Have you eaten?’ she babbled.
‘No.’ He put the holdall down by the coat stand and hung up his jacket. ‘Have you?’
She shook her head. ‘I could cook us something...’
‘Or we could ring out for a pizza or a curry?’ he suggested.
Triss shook her head again. She thought of the forced inactivity while they waited for the food to arrive—and wait they would certainly have to. Delivery companies always had tremendous difficulty finding houses on the estate, since each one was tucked away so discreetly.
‘I’d rather cook,’ she told him. ‘There’s plenty of food. Come through to the kitchen—it’s this way.’
‘I know,’ he reminded her gravely. ‘I was here earlier, remember?’
‘Yes, of course!’
In the kitchen, Triss felt momentarily nonplussed, wondering if her hands would stop trembling enough for her to be able to chop up anything at all. ‘What do you want to eat?’
‘Don’t mind. Heat up a pizza or something.’
But that was the last thing she wanted to do. If she provided him with instant food, then it would leave all that time dragging interminably while it heated up. And they would either be left swopping polite, meaningless pleasantries, as they were now, or hurling bitter recriminations at each other across the room.
At least if she cooked she could keep herself busy—wouldn’t have to stare into those beautiful blue eyes which reminded her with a pang that was almost unbearable of just what she had lost.
She stared at him rather helplessly. ‘Would you like some wine?’
‘Please. Want me to open it?’
She nodded, fished out the best red she could find in the rack and handed it over to him.
He extracted the cork and half filled the two glasses she had pushed across the counter towards him. There was a slightly awkward moment when she lifted her glass to toast him—more out of habit than anything else.
His mouth curved into a sardonic line. ‘What would you like to drink to, Triss?’ he enquired mockingly. ‘To secrets?’
‘Or to betrayal?’ she countered sweetly.
‘And how am I supposed to have betrayed you?’
‘There is no supposed about it!’ she snapped, taking a huge slug of wine which made her feel better immediately. ‘You did betray me, Cormack!’
‘You