'Then what would you call it? Believing all those lies about Ryan and that woman! That boy could have been any man's b.a.s.t.a.r.d!

How do you know he was Ryan's? He didn't even look like him!'

Joanna frowned. 'I didn't even know you'd seen Nathan,' she said, trying to remain calm, and Maggie's plump features reddened.

'Oh, I saw him all right,' she blurted defensively. 'I saw the two of you together lots of times. Down there on the river-bank. I told Cole what you were doing. I told him you couldn't wait to give another man what you were denying your lawful husband!'

Joanna gulped. 'You saw us!' She shook her head. 'Nathan and I were friends!' she protested weakly. 'Just friends!'

'And I bet you think I still believe in the tooth fairy,'

Maggie sneered. 'There's no man here gonna believe you didn't let that misbegotten son of a b.i.t.c.h get between your legs, girl!

Hen, you were quick enough to believe the worst about Cole's daddy!'

Joanna swayed. For a moment, she was sure she was going to pa.s.s out, and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Although the day was hot, she felt chilled to the core of her being. Oh, G.o.d, she felt so dizzy. She could feel all the blood draining out of her face.

'Hey-don't you go fainting on me, girl!'

Maggie grabbed her arm, and it was a measure of Joanna's weakness that she didn't try to shake her off. 'It's not true,' she whispered, gazing at Cole's mother with wide, accusing eyes. 'I didn't - I wouldn't - I never slept with Nathan. You have to believe me, I've never slept with any man but Cole.'

Maggie bundled her aside, and wrenched open the car door.

'Don't matter none now,' she declared, hustling her into the station wagon, and Joanna realised that Cole's mother didn't believe it herself. She had probably never believed it. But it was a way to poison Cole's mind against her, and she used it. As she would have used anything to destroy their marriage, and everything it represented..

CHAP1ER FOURTEEN.

WHICH was why she felt no will to get out of bed these mornings, Joanna reflected, glancing at the clock without interest. Since she got back to London, she had had no enthusiasm for anything, and her parents weren't the only ones who were anxious about her. Grace was worried, too, particularly as Joanna refused to talk about what had happened at Tidewater. For the first time since they had become friends, there was a barrier between them, and no amount of cajoling on Grace's part could break through the sh.e.l.l she'd erected.

It wasn't that she blamed the other woman for what had happened. Heavens, Grace had warned her about going there, even if she had felt some compa.s.sion for Cole's father. But Joanna simply didn't have the heart to tell her what had happened as she was leaving. That was simply too painful to confide to anyone.

And she felt such a fool, too. All these years, she had blamed Cole for using his brother as a scapegoat. She had thought Cole wanted a divorce, and that he had used her friendship with Nathan to achieve his own ends. She had never dreamt his mother might have been lying to him behind her back. No wonder he had reacted so violently, when he found Nathan at the clinic.

And the trouble was, if she permitted thoughts like that to germinate, it put in doubt the whole question of why their marriage had failed. Who knew how long Cole had been fed those lies? Their relationship had been in Jeopardy ever since he got back from South America. Might he never have got involved with Sammy-Jean, if he hadn't thought she was having an affair?

It was thoughts like these that she had to keep at bay.

And she couldn't do that if she spoke of them to Grace.

It had been hard enough remembering what Cole had said to his father the night Nathan died, and realising how easy it had been for her to misinterpret his actions afterwards. But, if she ever allowed Maggie's malicious words to mean anything to her, she might truly lose the will to live altogether.

The phone started to ring again, and Joanna pulled a pillow over her head to drown out the sound. But it didn't go away, not even when she reached out and s.n.a.t.c.hed the receiver off its hook, and buried it beneath the bedcovers. The intrusive, persistent sound went on and on, and she realised it was the visitor's intercom from downstairs.

She contemplated not answering it, but Grace would know she was here. Her curtains were still drawn, for heaven's sake. She wished now she had got up earlier and drawn back the curtains, so that she could at least have pretended to be out. But, even so, Grace was un likely to believe it. Not since she had refused to attend her own first exhibition.

Pushing herself up, she slid her legs over the side of the bed. But, as she padded wearily towards the door, a wave of nausea hit her. It was so unexpected that she hardly had the time to turn and dash for the bathroom, before she was suddenly and violently sick.

For a few moments, the insistent buzzing from down stairs was drowned out by the heavy thumping of her heart. She leaned over the basin, feeling her stomach churning, and trembling like a jelly. For G.o.d's sake, she thought weakly, whatever had she eaten'? She couldn't believe the tin of soup she had had for supper the night before was responsible for her feeling so ill.

But, to her relief, the nausea subsided as quickly as it had appeared. By the time she had wiped her face on a towel, and examined her pale features in the mirror, she was feeling almost normal. And the buzzing had stopped, she noted gratefully. Oh, well, if it was Grace, undoubtedly she would come back.

Then, as she turned on the taps in the shower, a shat tering thought occurred to her. It was exactly six weeks since she had left Tidewater. Six weeks, and she hadn't had a period in all that time!

Turning off the taps again, and with remarkable calmness, she padded back into the bedroom and pulled her diary out of the bedside drawer. She didn't keep a diary, except as a kind of calendar, and she riffled through the pages, looking for the dates in question.

A few moments later, she dropped the diary back into the drawer, and sank down weakly on to the side of the bed. She was right, she acknowledged, even though the written proof had been incidental. Her body clock was already telling her all she needed to know. She had ac tually missed her second period, and unless there was something radically wrong with her metabolism-which she doubted-there was every possibility that she was pregnant.

Her breath escaped on a wispy sigh. 'Pregnant!' She said it out loud, as if she needed to hear the word to believe it. She was going to have a baby. After all those barren months, when she had begun to believe she might never get pregnant, the impossible had happened. Cole's baby was already growing inside her.

Then she tried to be rational. She didn't know that for sure, she told herself firmly. Accidents happened. She might just be going through some biological up heaval. It was even possible that her emotional state might have something to do with it.

But, deep inside her, she didn't really believe that. As she ran a tentative hand over her still flat stomach, she felt a growing conviction that the baby was real. She wasn't inventing the way she felt; she hadn't imagined her sickness. That morning, on the beach at Tidewater, Cole had given her more than he could ever have imagined.

Cole ..

She licked her dry lips. What was she going to do about Cole'?

Was she going to tell him, and run the risk of his mother trying to take the baby away from her? But how could she keep it from him? Oh, G.o.d! The child was his, too.

And then the doorbell rang. Her doorbell this time.

Not the buzzer from downstairs. Evidently Grace had bluffed her way into the building. But how could she talk to her now, when she needed time to consider what she was going to do?

Of course, she didn't have to tell Grace, she acknowl edged, getting up from the bed again, and opening the bedroom door.

She crossed the hall into the living-room, as the doorbell rang once more, and she grimaced. It wasn't like Grace to be so impatient. She must be really worried this time.

But an innate caution, born of these years of living alone, stopped her from actually opening the door right away. It was always possible that someone else knew she lived alone, and she had no desire to become another statistic on London's list of crimes against women in their own homes.

'Grace?' she called, her hand on the deadlock, ready to release the latch.

'No. It's Cole,' declared a low attractive male voice that she had never expected to hear again. 'Come on, Jo. Open up! I was beginning to think Aunt Grace must be wrong, and you weren't home.'

Joanna slumped against the panels, her fingers falling nervelessly from the bolt. 'Cole,' she breathed disbe lievingly. Dear G.o.d, had she conjured him up out of the air? And what was he doing here in London? He couldn't know about the baby. She'd only just discovered that herself!

'Jo, come on.' His voice sounded a little terse now, as if he was afraid she wasn't going to answer, and he was using impatience to hide his uncertainty. 'I'm not going away until I talk to you.'

Joanna took a steadying breath and straightened her spine. 'What about?' she asked, her voice as thin and reedy as her stretched nerves, and, although it was barely audible, she heard the m.u.f.fled oath he uttered.

'Let me in and I'l tell you,' he stated at last. 'Please, Jo. It's important. I haven't flown all this way just to shout at you through the keyhole.'

Joanna gave a helpless shrug, and looked down at her crumpled nightshirt. 'I-I'm not dressed,' she said, using the only excuse she could think of. But it was a valid one, she thought ruefully. She wouldn't want anyone to see her in this state, least of all him.

'G.o.d, Jo, I don't care if you're stark naked,' he grated, and she heard his fist thud against the door in frus tration. 'This isn't a social visit. I need to talk to you. Now, can you cut the waffle, and open this d.a.m.n door?'

Joanna's mouth went dry. 'I can't. I'm a mess-'

'I've told you, I don't care what you look like.'

'No, but-'

'Jo!'

His use of her name was desperate, and, realising it must be something pretty serious to bring him all this way, Joanna gave in. But she still didn't unlock the door. 'Look,' she called, 'give me a few minutes, will you? I-I'll put something on. Hold on.'

Cole said something else, something not very com plimentary, she guessed, but she couldn't help it. He would have to wait until she had had a wash, and changed into something decent. Her pride wouldn't let her face him looking such a hag.

Ten minutes later, with her face washed and her teeth Cleaned, and a deliberately chosen georgette tunic, in a becoming shade of apricot, giving warmth to her pale features, Joanna opened the door. Her hair was loose, a dusky fall of silk that swung against her cheek as she stepped back to let him in.

She thought, belatedly, that she should have worn Something on her feet. In the ordinary way, Cole towered above her. When she was in her bare feet, he was a force to be reckoned with.

And her instinctive recoil when he stepped into the apartment was as much a reaction to the threat he re presented as social politeness. She didn't want him there, not now, not while she was still trying to come to terms with her condition. G.o.d, she hadn't even decided what she was going to do about the baby. And she certainly wasn't ready to give him that advantage.

Even so, as he stepped forward and took hold of the door to close it behind his back, she had a moment to study his taut features. Her initial thought that he hadn't changed had to be slightly revised. He had changed. He looked older for one thing.

And thinner, too, if she wasn't mistaken. Evidently his father's death-for surely Ryan was dead now, and that was why he was here had hit him rather harder than he had imagined. She hoped he wasn't blaming himself for what had hap pened. She hoped he had made his peace with his father, however painful that had proved to be.

She took a nervous breath. It was strange seeing Cole in a suit, for once. It made him look more serious, more severe. The dark grey fabric threw the lightness of his hair into prominence, shadowing his cheekbones, and accentuating the thin line of his mouth. And it also served to make him look more remote, and more un approachable. This was not the man who had made such desperate love to her on the beach. This was still the stranger who had faced her in his father's study.

But she hadn't looked into his eyes, and, when she did so, her interpretation had to be revised once again. There was an uneasy tension in his gaze, and raw des peration. No, not the unfeeling stranger, she thought unsteadily, but perhaps an approximation.

Nevertheless, his presence disturbed her. No matter how she tried to rationalise her feelings, just looking at him gave her a shivery feeling in the pit of her stomach. She hoped it wasn't physical She hoped she wasn't going to throw up again while he was here. It would be too embarra.s.sing if she had to go dashing into the bathroom.

And, while he'd never guess the real reason, he might get the wrong impression.

The silence was unnerving, and Joanna was too emotional to cope with it right now. 'I-how are you?' she said, realising how inane that sounded after every thing that had gone before, but incapable of thinking of an alternative. 'I-I never expected-'

'Grace said you'd been ill,' he interrupted her ab ruptly, moving away from the door, so that Joanna felt obliged to back further into the room.

She swallowed. 'ill?' she said faintly. Was that why he was here?

Because Grace had sent for him? 'I-I'm fine, really. I don't know what-what gave her that opinion.' .

Cole frowned. 'She said you're not working.'

'Oh, that!' Joanna managed to give a short laugh. 'No-well, I'm not. But I don't think that's any concern of yours.'

Cole's jaw tightened. 'Nevertheless, I am concerned-'

'Well, don't be.' Joanna didn't think she could stand this stilted conversation one minute longer. 'If Grace has taken it upon herself to contact you and blame you, be cause I'm being lazy, then I'm sorry. You've had a wasted journey. I-I'll work again, when I feel like it.'

'She says you didn't even attend your own exhibition.'

'So what?' Joanna was beginning to resent him and Grace for putting her in this position. It was bad enough feeling as if her life had lost all meaning. The last thing she needed was Cole coming here to offer her some guilty consolation.

'So-she's worried about you,' he said shortly, but she had the feeling that Grace's emotions weren't the Whole reason he had come. 'G.o.d, Jo, do you have to make this so b.l.o.o.d.y hard? I really hoped you might be glad to see me.'

Joanna tensed. 'Is that what Grace said?'

'To h.e.l.l with Grace!' retorted Cole savagely. 'Is that the only reason you can think of why I might be here?'

Comprehension dawned. With an effort, Joanna re membered what she had thought when he first came into the apartment. Of course. He must have come to tell Grace his father was dead. It was the kind of thing he would do. So much more civilized than putting it in a letter.

Now she shook her head. 'I'm sorry.'

Cole closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them again.

'What are you sorry for now? Not my wasted journey again, I hope.'

'No.' Joanna gave a helpless gesture. 'A-about your father. I-I might not have liked him, but I didn't wish him-'

'Dead?' Cole cut in harshly, and she nodded. 'Well, I'm afraid your condolences are just a tad premature.' Joanna stared at him.

'You mean-?'

'I mean my father is still very much alive.' Cole loosened the b.u.t.ton of his collar and dragged his tie a couple of inches away from his neck, as if he was feeling the heat. 'He's even recovered his powers of speech, although he isn't always intelligible. It rattles him like h.e.l.l, but he makes himself understood, one way or the other.'

Joanna was astounded. 'Grace never told me.'

'Grace didn't know.' Cole paused. 'Not until an hour ago, anyway. I gather you didn't tell her about his stroke.'

'No.' Joanna was beginning to feel uneasy, and she glanced behind her, as if she was getting bored with the conversation. 'I-I haven't talked to Grace much since I got back. I- I- I've been .. .'

'Too busy?' suggested Cole sardonically, and Joanna felt the warm colour invade her throat.

'Not-exactly,' she said, holding up her head. 'I-do have a life outside of painting.'

'Do you?'

Cole's tone was vaguely accusing, and Joanna won dered what he had expected her to say. For heaven's sake, he knew, better than anyone, how she had felt when she left Tidewater. It wasn't as if he hadn't known she was leaving. Didn't he remember his chilling reb.u.t.tal?

Taking a deep breath, she decided this one-sided attack had gone on long enough. 'Why have you come here, Cole?' she asked. 'I'm sure it wasn't to inform me that your father is back at Tidewater-'

'He's not.' Cole broke into her words with a swift denial.

Joanna frowned. 'He's not what?'

'Back at Tidewater.' He paused. 'I said he wasn't dead. I didn't say he was back home.'

'Does it matter?' Joanna felt totally indifferent to his statement.

'As I say, I don't believe your father's-partial recovery was why you came to see me.'

'It wasn't.' Cole took a step forward, and Joanna felt uneasy again. She wasn't ready for this, she thought un steadily, wishing Grace had warned her that he was coming. But perhaps she had.

She remembered those unanswered phone calls with a bitter sense of regret. 'I came because I thought we needed to talk.'

'What about?'