'Say it,' he said roughly, his hands sliding down her back to the rounded swell of her b.u.t.tocks. His hands cupped their shapely curve, and as he brought her deliberately against him, she felt the hard ridge of his arousal rising against her stomach. 'Say you love me,' he added, taking hold of her skirt, and drawing it up, so that he could touch her bare leg. 'You know you do.' His hand moved higher, and she felt herself relaxing to make it easier for him. 'Oh, G.o.d, Liv, I want you! Don't pretend you're not ready for me, too----'

'Livvy! Livvy, where are you?'

Someone was calling her name, and although it seemed to be coming from a great distance it was a persistent aggravation.

And, like a fly beating at the panes of her consciousness, it eventually became too irritating to ignore.

Which was just as well, thought Olivia later, realising that both she and Matthew had been in danger of forgetting exactly where they were. Indeed, she fretted, if her mother's voice hadn't interrupted them, there was every possibility that she would have let him take her, there, in her father's study, in full view of anyone who might have ventured into the vegetable garden.

But being seen was not the worst of it, she knew. Her own behaviour was what troubled her most. She had allowed Matthew to touch her, knowing she had no right to do so, neither legally nor morally.

In fact, it wasn't her mother who had found them together. It was Mrs Davis, acting on her mother's behalf, but evidently very interested in her own right. Thank goodness her mother had called her name and warned them, thought Olivia weakly, as Mrs Davis opened the door. Although Matthew's shirt wasn't b.u.t.toned beneath his hastily knotted tie, and Olivia was sure her face was bare of all make-up, they were at opposite sides of the room. Nevertheless, she wasn't at all convinced that the housekeeper was deceived. The way she looked at them gave Olivia an anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she was relieved when Matthew took the initiative.

'Yes?' he said coolly, and watching him Olivia would never have believed that moments before he had been at the mercy of his senses. 'Did you want something?'

In spite of her avid curiosity, Mrs Davis was not indifferent to Matthew's position, and her thin lips curled back over her teeth in an ingratiating smile. 'Er"Mrs Stoner was looking for her daughter, Mr Matthew,' she explained, but, unable to withstand his narrow-eyed stare, she looked at Olivia again. 'People are leaving, Miss Stoner. I think your mother would like you to join the rest of the family to say goodbye.'

'Would she?' Olivia licked her lips, and cast a nervous look in Matthew's direction. 'Oh"very well.'

'You can tell Mrs Stoner that Olivia will be with her shortly,'

Matthew retorted, getting up from the desk. He had propped his hips against the worn mahogany rim as Mrs Davis opened the door, but now he went towards her with every indication of seeing her outside.

But Olivia knew she couldn't let him. They mustn't be alone again, and, abandoning her stance by the window, she hurried across the floor. 'I'll come now, Mrs Davis,' she said, and before Matthew could prevent her she brushed past them both.

Her mother was in her wheelchair, at the end of the pa.s.sage, and Olivia went towards her eagerly, desperate to avoid Matthew's censure. She was afraid he might come after her, and she didn't think she could handle him right now. She needed time to gather her scattered senses before she saw him again; time to a.s.similate her position, and find some convincing reason why they mustn't see one another again.

'Are you all right, Livvy?'

Mrs Stoner looked up at her elder daughter with some concern, and Olivia took a deep breath before saying tautly, 'As I'll ever be, I suppose.'

Felicity Stoner frowned. 'Why? What's wrong? Have you and Matthew had a row?'

'Have we had a row?' Olivia caught her breath. That her mother, of all people, should ask that! But, 'No,' she answered, wondering why she didn't feel more animosity towards her mother. After all, she was to blame, wasn't she? 'No, we haven't been"rowing.' 'Oh, good.'

Mrs Stoner half turned her chair, but before she could move away Olivia said unsteadily, 'Tell me"tell me, why didn't"Matthew's wife come to the funeral? I thought she would.'

'Helen?' Her mother's mouth tightened. 'Hasn't Matthew told you about Helen yet?'

'Told me? Told me what?' Olivia moved round the chair to gaze down at her. 'What about her?'

'Oh, not now, darling.' Mrs Stoner shook her head. 'And if Matt hasn't told you himself, I don't think it's my place---'

'What about her?' repeated Olivia grimly, and her mother gave an exaggerated sigh.

'We can't talk about it now,' she said. 'We simply don't have the time. Ask me later, after everyone has gone.'

Olivia caught her lower lip between her teeth. 'They" they are still married, aren't they?'

But, even as she asked the question she realised that both Matthew and Mrs Davis were coming along the pa.s.sage towards them. And, clearly, her mother had realised it, too.

'Later, Livvy,' she said, squeezing her daughter's hand, and, tapping the arm of her chair, she added, 'Take me into the drawing-room, dear. Your father's waiting for us.'

CHAPTER TEN.

Olivia sat back on her heels, and surveyed the patch of garden she had just weeded. It definitely looked a lot better but, short of rain, the soil still looked dry and flaky. It was a wonder anything at all grew in such conditions, she thought. But, however hot it was, weeds always seemed to flourish, taking what little moisture there was for themselves, and leaving the plants to perish.

She looked down at her hands. A week ago, when she left New York, her nails had been neatly filed, and painted with a pearl l.u.s.tre. Now, they were bare of any polish, and caked with earth into the bargain.

Still, she had gained a certain amount of satisfaction from working in the garden. It made her feel useful-something she had not felt since she landed in England. And it also served to expunge her frustration, and ease the aching need inside her that she knew could never be a.s.suaged.

It was three days now since the funeral; three days since Matthew had walked out of the house, without even telling her goodbye. Not that she regretted his abstinence, she told herself.

The less she and Matthew said to one another, the better. But she couldn't deny that not seeing him had caused something to shrivel up inside her. And, despite her best efforts, whenever a car did come to the door and it wasn't Matthew she suffered a small defeat.

Of course, she could hardly blame him for keeping away. She had done nothing to endear herself in his eyes. That encounter in the study on the day of the funeral had achieved nothing. It had only proved to him, once and for all, that she was just as selfish as he had thought.

Oh, she could argue that he had no room to talk; that he was still married, and therefore in no real position to criticise her morals. But the fact remained, she had let him think she cared about him. Think? She pulled a wry face. There was no think about it. She did still care about him. But that was no excuse for what she had done. No excuse at all.

Yet why should she take all the blame, when every time he came near her she seemed incapable of rational thought? She was the one who deserved to be pitied. It was her soul she was d.a.m.ning to perdition.

And, so far as Matthew's relationship with Helen was concerned, she had only her mother's word that everything was not as it should be. The point was only academic, after all, but Mrs Stoner had explained that Helen didn't just work at the Berrenger Stables these days, she lived there. Had lived there for some time, in fact.

Which meant that their marriage wasn't working, but didn't alter her position at all, Olivia reflected bitterly. Oh, she couldn't deny that the knowledge that Matthew was not living in a state of married bliss appealed to the baser side of her nature. But, in all honesty, she didn't wish that for him. She loved him, for G.o.d's sake! She wanted him to be happy. The trouble was, she had the instinctive feeling that neither of them could be happy apart.

Life was a b.i.t.c.h! she thought painfully, getting to her feet now, and brushing the soil from her fingers. What she should do"what she ought to have done ten years ago"was have it out with her mother; ask her how she could have allowed their relationship to continue, knowing what she did. Only Felicity Stoner could explain how she had appeased her conscience all these years, and then, maybe, she would find a way to appease her own.

But Olivia knew she couldn't do that. What good would it do, after all? It couldn't help her. And it might do irreparable harm to the family. Not to mention her mother's health. All she should do was go back to New York, and Perry. Accept, once and for all, that she and Matthew didn't have a future together, and stop playing with fire.

Footsteps sounded on the path behind her, and she turned round in surprise. Her mother was resting, her father and Andrew were down in the fields somewhere, and even Mrs Davis had gone into the village. She had thought she was alone in the house, and her eyes widened in dismay when she recognised her visitor.

It was ten years since she had seen Helen Berrenger" no, Ryan, she corrected herself tautly, but she hadn't changed. Helen had always been tall, and thin, and slightly masculine in appearance, preferring riding breeches to jeans or trousers, and linen shirts to cotton. Her hair was her only concession to her femininity, and now, as then, she wore it long and straight, and tied back with a leather cord. Olivia had always thought she was quite attractive, in an angular sort of way, but her opinion had always been coloured by Matthew's, and in those days he had had no time for her.

But now she was walking along the path towards her, and Olivia thought how ironic it was that Helen should see her at her worst. She couldn't imagine why she should have come to see her, but she wished she had been more prepared. Ten years in one of the most sophisticated cities in the world should have given her the advantage. But in a dust-smeared T-shirt and an old pair of Andrew's jeans she had the uneasy feeling that the reverse was true.

Smoothing her hands over the seat of the jeans, she prepared herself to meet the challenge. Whatever reason Helen had for coming here, she couldn't believe it was a charitable one. As girls, they had only known one another distantly. It was inconceivable, now that Helen was married to Matthew, that they could have anything in common.

Except Matthew, a small voice jeered inside her, and Olivia's stomach tightened unpleasantly. It wasn't sensible, she knew, but the image of Matthew making love to Helen made her skin creep.

How would Helen look, with her hair spread out all over the pillow? she wondered. Had Matthew buried his face in its softness, as he had done with hers, and caressed it with his lips...

'h.e.l.lo.' Helen had halted a few feet away, a constrained smile splitting her thin features. 'I hope I'm not disturbing you.'

'Oh"no.' Olivia found it difficult to hide her surprise at the other woman's cordiality. Somehow, she had got it into her head that Helen had heard she was back, and had come to warn her off Matthew. But Helen's att.i.tude didn't seem to be aggressive, which seemed to confound that theory.

Even so, it was possible she was hiding her true feelings.

People like the Berrengers did that, she remembered. And the Ryans, too, she appended, recalling Matthew's father's behaviour at her grandmother's funeral. Not to forget her own mother, she thought wryly. Felicity Stoner was a past mistress at the art.

'Um"can I help you?' Olivia ventured now, incapable of thinking of any reason, other than Matthew, that might have brought Helen here. She had to know they had been seeing one another. Even though the Berrenger Stables were some miles from Lower Mychett, news of that sort travelled fast.

'I hope so,' Helen responded now. And then, as if as uncomfortable with the situation, as Olivia was herself, she directed her attention towards the garden. 'You look as if you've been busy.'

'Yes. Yes, I have.' Olivia looked down at the patch where she had been working, too, and noticed a stem of milkweed she had overlooked. But her mind wasn't really on the results of her labours. She just wished Helen would get to the point.

'I don't suppose you've had much time for gardening, while you've been living in America,' Helen continued, evidently in no hurry to do so. 'New York, wasn't it? Quite a change from Lower Mychett, I should think.'

'Quite a change,' agreed Olivia, gesturing for Helen to walk back along the path. 'Um"shall we go into the house? I'd like to wash my hands.'

'Oh! Oh, yes, of course.'

Helen turned obediently away, and Olivia followed her tall, athletic figure round to the back door of the farmhouse. But, once there, Helen hung back to allow the other girl to precede her inside, and Olivia hesitated only a moment before doing so.

'So,' she said at last, after washing her hands at the sink, while Helen hovered in the doorway. 'What can I do for you?'

Helen licked her lips, and watching her, Olivia's nerves jangled. For goodness' sake, get on with it, she thought, thrusting the towel on which she had dried her hands aside. It was obviously because of Matthew that she was here, and the only question remaining was from whom Helen had gleaned her information. Perhaps someone had seen them, that day after the funeral. Goodness knew, neither of them had been in any state to notice!

'It's"it's not easy for me to talk about this,' Helen said at last, and Olivia could only feel a sense of relief that apparently she was going to try. 'I"I suppose you know my father"died"just after you went away.'

Olivia blinked. It was not what she had been expecting to hear, and for a moment she just stared at her. But then, gathering her wits, she nodded. 'I"did hear something, yes.'

'Something? Or everything?' enquired Helen drily. 'From your expression, I'd say the latter was true.'

'Well---' Now it was Olivia's turn to prevaricate. 'I heard he died in tragic circ.u.mstances---'

'Yes.' Helen bent her head. 'Tragic circ.u.mstances, That about covers it.'

'I was"very sorry,' murmured Olivia awkwardly, wondering what any of this had to do with her, and then biting her lip when Helen gave her a disbelieving look.

'Why should you be sorry?' Revealing the first trace of animosity she had shown since she came here, Helen regarded her coldly now, and Olivia made a helpless gesture.

'No"no reason,' she murmured placatingly.

'Um---' She glanced behind her. 'Would you like some coffee?

Or a cold drink---?'

'Nothing.' Helen shook her head, and Olivia wondered why offering her sympathy should have elicited quite such a response.

'But"I'd like to sit down, if I may? Would you mind?'

'Of course not.' Olivia felt guilty for not having invited her to do so. But she remained standing, preferring the freedom to move at will.

'Thank you.' Helen subsided into a chair at the table, and then looked up at the other girl. 'Won't you join me?'

In spite of her reticence Olivia could think of no reason why not, and, shaking her head a little bewilderedly, she pulled out a chair from the table, and did so. But her knees were shaking, and she crossed her legs so that Helen shouldn't notice.

'All right.' With the conditions to her apparent liking, Helen rested her arms on the table and looked at her unwilling confidante. 'I'll accept that your sympathies were well meant. But you'll have to forgive me. I'm a little touchy where my father's death is concerned.'

Olivia gave a small smile, but she was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Helen was, if not unbalanced, then at least a little irrational. She could see no earthly reason why she should have come here, if not to approach her about Matthew, but so far Helen hadn't even mentioned him.

'Anyway,' Helen was continuing, and Olivia endeavoured to concentrate on what she was saying, 'it is true to say that"the rumours that were spread about him after his death were not entirely without foundation.'

'No?' Olivia ran her hand into the damp hair at her nape, wondering what was coming now.

'No.' Helen squared her shoulders. 'He was having" financial difficulties. That much is true. Indeed, I'm sure they contributed to his"accident.'

'You are?'

'Yes.' Helen nodded. 'He wasn't paying proper attention to what he was doing. Daddy would never have clipped that fence if he hadn't been distracted.'

'I see.'

Olivia's response was polite, but as if realising she was losing the other girl's attention Helen hurried on, 'It was an accident, you see. Oh, people said it wasn't. They said Daddy had taken his own life, because he was in debt, and by doing so he was enabling me to collect the insurance money, but that wasn't true!'

'No.'

'You do believe me, don't you?'

Helen was gazing at her anxiously now, and Olivia could only nod her head, and a.s.sure her that she did. 'Anyway,' she added, in an effort to divert her, 'that was all over a long time ago. It doesn't really matter now, does it----?'

'Yes, it does.' Helen leaned across the table. 'It matters a lot.

It was why Matthew married me, you see. He didn't love me.

Not really. He was just reacting to the fact that you had gone away, and he felt sorry for me.'

Olivia's mouth felt parched. 'Oh"I'm sure----' she began, but once again Helen interrupted her.

'It's true.' Helen took a deep breath. 'You have to believe me.

There were " complications, you see. With the insurance money. As I said before, there were rumours, and insurance companies don't like paying out huge sums of money if there are any doubts.'

Olivia managed to nod. 'I can believe that.'

'So you see, they were far more prepared to take a lenient view of the situation with the Ryans behind me, and Matthew and I"well, we had always been friends, as you know.'

Olivia became aware that her fingers were twisting together, and to prevent this from continuing she sat on her hands. But she didn't know how much more of this she could take, and adopting what she hoped was an unrevealing expression she said tightly, 'I'm sure this is all very interesting. But"I don't understand why you're telling me.'

'Because I want you to ask Matthew to get a divorce,'