Hold Back the Dark Page 14

  ‘Those who knew kept it quiet. He came quietly, and he’s a mighty powerful man.’

  Danny would know, Danny was there. But her head was spinning, this had her reeling. She still couldn’t believe it when she said, ‘He was there? What did he do?’

  ‘Played music—they said take your tapes along. Talked to you most of the time. I told him things about you—he asked me. He held your hand. “Come on, Clarry,” he said, over and over, night after night. I watched him sweat and I knew he wouldn’t be beaten.’ Danny smiled faintly then. ‘I hadn’t got the strength, but he brought you back.’

  Those were the echoes in her mind; and the aftershave, the smell of his skin. They said the sense of smell was the first to return, and Nicolas Dargan had been beside her when she was struggling back to life. But not when she regained consciousness. She asked, ‘Where was he when I started to come round? Once I was out of the coma, why was that the end of it?’

  Perhaps Danny was getting his breath, he was talking more than ever before. Or he could have been deciding to stop here. A few more seconds’ silence and she would have been badgering him when he said abruptly, ‘Not quite. He paid.’

  ‘Paid for what?’

  ‘For what you needed. My savings soon ran out—I never had more than a few hundred. He backed the business.’

  So Nicolas Dargan was her anonymous backer. She heard herself mutter ironically, ‘He can be generous. He buys people statues.’ Danny stared and she said, ‘Sorry, that’s something else. Why did he do all this?’

  ‘Challenge,’ said Danny promptly, as if he had worked that out long ago. ‘He likes a fight. They said you might not wake up. He said you would.’ And luckily for her Nicolas Dargan was a winner.

  ‘And the money?’

  ‘He could afford it,’ said Danny. ‘Next to nothing to him.’

  All the same she wished that money had not been involved. Although without it her business might not have got off the ground, and how the heck did she think that Danny, who never earned that much and never bothered about cash, had saved thousands?

  Tight-lipped Danny could certainly keep a secret. Although after all this she would have expected him to be grateful to Nicolas Dargan. ‘So why do you hate him?’ she asked.

  ‘Don’t hate him,’ said Danny. ‘Just didn’t want him around you. He was there the first time your eyes opened. That night I was there too. You weren’t seeing much, you went right off again, but they said it was the break-through, and that’s when I asked him to keep away.’

  ‘Why?’ demanded Clarry.

  ‘I didn’t want you too grateful for what he’d done, getting too fond of another Dargan. There was no future for you with him.’

  No future at all. Everybody knew that, but her voice was wistful. ‘So you told him that and he walked away?’

  ‘I told him,’ said Danny, concentrating on getting this word-for-word accurate, ‘”She’s still sick, and I don’t want her depending on you and mistaking it for anything else,” and he said, “God, no.”’

  That could hardly have been more emphatic. The Sleeping Beauty was waking, and Nicolas Dargan was no Prince. The challenge had been to wake her up, not carry her off.

  ‘He made me take the money for you,’ Danny said. ‘Said if I did he’d keep out of your life. If I didn’t he’d take charge himself. We shook hands, and we never met again till we came here. Never wanted to, never saw the need.’

  Danny had protected her when she was weak and defenceless, and it had been a cruel trick of fate that had brought her here. Now she was as strong as if she had never had a day’s illness in her life but still as vulnerable as ever where Nicolas Dargan was concerned.

  She dabbed her cheeks with her fingertips. The tears were drying, although her throat and head ached with unshed tears. What Danny had told her explained a lot, but there was no comfort in it, and she said huskily, ‘I wish we hadn’t come back. I’ll have to get away.’

  ‘We’ll go in the morning,’ Danny said.

  ‘I just blew the contract anyway.’ Now she was trying to smile again. ‘You go to bed. It’s been a long day—you look tired.’ He looked burned out, and although it was not yet his usual bedtime he got to his feet, still watching her with worried eyes.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Clarry said. She went upstairs with him, and at her bedroom door she said, ‘Thank heaven for you, Danny.’

  ‘I couldn’t have got you back,’ he said.

  She owed Nicolas Dargan her sanity and maybe her life, but she had only been a challenge for him. He had never wanted anything from her, except now that she should keep away from Nigel. Well, she could do that for him, Nigel meant nothing to her. And she must keep away from Nicolas too, because he meant something that was tearing her apart.

  She could not sleep in this house tonight, where Nicolas might be with Fiona. Tomorrow she would collect Danny and the equipment and leave King’s Lodge for ever, but tonight she would rather sleep under a hedge.

  She dragged off the red dress and got into jeans and jumper and a jacket, rammed a nightdress and toothbrush into a bag, and went out to the van. There were pubs, hotels where she could get a room for the night. She had to put space between herself and Nicolas Dargan, for she was nearly crazy enough to go looking for him because she couldn’t keep away from him.

  When she neared the van and saw the faint glimmer of the headlamps she stopped dead and swore fervently at her own carelessness. She had forgotten to switch off the lights, and she knew before she turned the ignition key that the battery was flat and there would be no answering spark to start the engine. She clicked the key a few times, getting nothing; the van was a non-runner unless somebody jump-started it for her, and that would cause fuss and questions.

  She could set off walking to the village pub, but she didn’t know if they did overnight accommodation, and it was lateish and dark to be walking the lanes. Or she could ring for a taxi. With luck nobody would bother her. She would phone and then she would stand by the gates and wait.

  The only person in the hall was Nigel. He was carrying a small case. Clarry said, ‘Are you off tonight? Will you give me a lift?’

  He looked flushed and dishevelled, as if he too had packed in a hurry, and he wanted to know, ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To the first hotel.’

  ‘Are you sure? There’s no need for that.’

  ‘I think there is,’ she said, and he shrugged.

  ‘Right, then.’

  Clarry walked out of the house with him, collected her bag from the van, and joined him while he was fumbling for the keys to his own white Porsche. His hands were unsteady, and she wondered if he had had further words with Nicolas, whose temper would hardly have been improved by her performance just now.

  He was driving slowly and carefully, although the winding lanes were probably safer after dark when you could see the warning lights of oncoming vehicles. When they were well clear of the house he started, ‘I’m sorry about everything, but—’ and she said quickly,

  ‘Nigel, please shut up. I’ve just heard how much I owe the Dargans.’ He looked blank at that, and she realised that he probably did not know the part Nicolas had played in her recovery nor his investment in her business. She went on, ‘But I don’t want to talk and I don’t want to be talked to. I just want to be put down where I can get a bed for tonight.’

  ‘You’ve become very hard,’ Nigel said huffily, and that was rich coming from him. She looked away from him, through the window, seeing nothing, until ten minutes later when the car turned into a car park fronting a small hotel called the Leaping Salmon, with ‘Open to Non-Residents’ on the board.

  ‘Will this do?’ he asked. Off season they should have a room, and he reached for her bag. ‘I’ll see you in.’

  Background music was playing as they entered the lounge and there were enough customers to give a cheerful atmosphere, although there were empty chairs. Nigel went on ahead to a small reception counter, and Clarry waited until h
e came back. ‘They can fix you up,’ he said, and signalled a passing waitress. ‘I might as well have one for the road while I’m here.’

  She saw then what she should have spotted before if she had been paying him any attention, that he was already over the drink-and-drive limit, and she said, ‘A pot of coffee, please,’ when the girl reached them. Then she took Nigel’s arm and led him to a couple of window seats and an empty table and asked, ‘How much have you had already?’

  Three of them had shared that bottle of wine over dinner, but he admitted, ‘I needed a brandy after that scene with Cole.’ At least a couple of doubles, she guessed, and was glad she had hitched a lift with him because he would have been a menace on the busy roads. She knew all about drunk drivers; one had caused the crash that killed her parents.

  The coffee came, and she poured two black and sipped some herself. When she had known him he had not been a heavy drinker and no one here would have said he was drunk now, but he certainly should not be driving, which landed her with the problem.

  After a flash of irritation she managed to say quietly, ‘I can’t let you drive, you know.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Nigel, you’re way over the limit.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ He thought about it himself. ‘I suppose I could be on the borderline.’

  ‘Shall we go back?’ she suggested. ‘I could drive your car.’

  ‘No!’ That panicked him. ‘I’m not facing him again tonight. I’m not up to it.’

  Clarry smiled ruefully. ‘Are you ever? I’ll see about another room here.’

  ‘I’ll do it.’

  As he stood up she said, ‘Another single, of course, don’t get any silly ideas,’ and he rushed to reassure her.

  ‘No danger there. Cole’s a mind-reader, I tell you—he’d know.’

  As he threaded his way between the chairs across to the booking counter she looked out into the well lit car park. She watched several cars drive out and one drive in, parking beside Nigel’s white car. She watched the man get out as Nigel sat down again beside her and said, ‘That’s done,’ and started to pour himself another coffee.

  Then she gulped and croaked, ‘Drink it quick! Nicolas is just coming across the car park.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘YOU’RE joking!’ Nigel hoped Clarry was, but knew from her expression that she was not. All the same he said, ‘I don’t believe it.’

  I hope you did make it two single rooms, she thought, and knew that that wouldn’t prove a thing. Nigel was muttering as if it spooked him, ‘How did he know we were here?’ and she tried to sound flippant.

  ‘He’s not just a mind-reader, he’s got a tracker mind as well,’ although that was easily explained. If anyone at King’s Lodge had heard her mention ‘the first hotel’ this was it; and Nigel’s car was conspicuous in the car park; just following them Nicolas could have spotted it. And that was when he walked into the lounge.

  Heads turned as he did. Some here recognised him, some did not, but everyone seemed aware of him. He saw Clarry at once, although the table by the window was in an alcove of its own, and he came towards her without looking away.

  At the table he said, ‘May I join you?’ asking Clarry.

  ‘Do we have a choice?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then be my guest.’

  He took an empty chair, still speaking to Clarry, demanding, ‘What exactly are you playing at?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘we’re not eloping.’

  Nigel tried to say something, but Nicolas overrode him, ‘I’m relieved to hear that.’ He didn’t look relieved. He still looked grim as a hanging judge, and Clarry had done nothing to deserve this and she was not in the happiest of moods herself.

  ‘But you still want an explanation?’ She gave him glare for glare. ‘All right, and you can believe it or not, because I’m past caring. I’m here because I’d outstayed my welcome in your house and I couldn’t get the van to start, so I asked Nigel for a lift. You’d practically thrown him out, hadn’t you? Anyhow, I’ve got a room, and if you ask over there you’ll find that he has too, because I’ve just realised he’s in no state to be driving.’

  Briefly Nicolas turned his attention on Nigel, who squirmed in his seat. Then he looked back at Clarry, expression and voice heavily ironic. ‘That was observant of you. You’re taking good care of him.’

  ‘Two singles.’

  Nigel got that in, and Nicolas drawled, ‘You think that preserves the proprieties?’

  ‘I don’t give a damn about the proprieties,’ Clarry said hotly, ‘and single means single. You didn’t have to chase after us.’

  ‘Well, he certainly needs time to sleep it off, and here should do as well as anywhere.’ Nicolas was still looking at Clarry, talking to her. ‘But I would prefer you back at King’s Lodge.’

  ‘Don’t you trust me with him? Do you think I might have nightmares again?’ He had to be remembering, and suddenly her throat was tight and aching and she had to force out the words, asking Nigel sarcastically, ‘Are they adjoining rooms, by the way?’

  Nigel was lost, all this was beyond him. What nightmares? What was Clarry on about?

  She realised for the first time that the music was sounding louder because those around had stopped talking and joking and were trying to eavesdrop. And she knew that whatever she said or did she would end up leaving with Nicolas. Nigel was talking, but his words were as hazy as the background music.

  Nicolas looked across at her steadily, and she could hear, ‘Come on, Clarry,’ and feel his hand gripping her hand, although they both sat silent and apart.

  Then he indicated the small bag. ‘Is this yours?’ She nodded, and he picked it up and she stood up as he did.

  ‘You’ll stay here overnight?’ she said to Nigel.

  ‘He will,’ said Nicolas grimly.

  ‘Sure,’ said Nigel. ‘Don’t mind me. I’m beginning to think I’m drunk.’

  As she drove away in the car beside Nicolas Clarry said, ‘It seems I owe you cash, among other things.’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Danny.’

  ‘You surprise me,’ he said drily. ‘I got the impression he’d have killed to keep it from you.’

  ‘He was shocked into talking.’ Her tears had devastated poor Danny. ‘He hasn’t changed his mind, but he talked.’

  ‘And he doesn’t do much of that.’

  ‘He talked to you in hospital, didn’t he?’ she pursued. ‘Told you things about me.’

  ‘Using very few words.’

  ‘Anyhow, I’ll pay you back.’ She meant the cash, it was not so easy repaying someone for saving your sanity.

  ‘No need,’ he said, but she insisted.

  ‘I shall.’

  Lights were burning in windows in King’s Lodge and she was sure almost everyone in the house knew that Nicolas had gone after Nigel and the Rickard girl, and the sound of his returning car would have them all straining to hear what was happening. But it seemed like an empty house when they entered the hall. Doors were ajar, but nobody peered out.

  They walked up the staircase, and on the first landing Nicolas took her arm and turned her towards the King’s Room. When she tried to pull back he said with the same weariness he had shown after her tirade on the lawn, ‘You fought me in your coma, most of the time since you’ve been fighting me—for God’s sake let us have a little peace!’

  That hushed her for the moment, but when they reached the door she hesitated again, and he said, ‘What’s the matter now?’

  ‘It will be rather awkward if Fiona’s in your bed,’ she said wryly.

  ‘That’s most unlikely.’ He sounded emphatic, although she would have thought there was a very good chance.

  Lights were on, but the room was empty and the coverlet of the King’s bed was unruffled. Nicolas said, ‘Please sit down.’

  The chairs in here were old, with flat wooden seats and high backs, valuable antiq
ues but not very comfortable. As Clarry perched herself on one he crossed the room to stand by the fireplace. Then he said, ‘I apologise for the scene over dinner. I don’t often lose my temper.’

  The cracking of an iron self-control had been, as Fiona had said, terrifying. But Fiona had found it a turn-on, and Clarry said tartly, ‘Fiona was thrilled. She just loves masterful men.’ She was sounding feline and jealous, and she went on quickly, ‘But you frightened Nigel half to death. He needed a stiff brandy afterwards.’

  ‘It brought you out in his defence.’ She had felt sorry for Nigel, she still did, but when Nicolas asked, ‘How do you feel about him?’ she said:

  ‘I’m no threat to his marriage. If that hits the rocks it won’t be through me.’

  ‘Good.’ He smiled, for what seemed the first time in a very long while, and again it took the harshness from his face.

  ‘Although it seems tough,’ she said, ‘keeping them together because Dargan Enterprises needs her father’s business.’

  ‘Nigel told you that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He sounded amused. ‘Not nearly as much as they need us.’

  ‘Then why did you choose her for him?’ Clarry queried.

  ‘Why should I choose her?’ This was still amusing him. ‘I’m not a marriage broker.’

  She leaned forward, staring up at him, bewildered. ‘But he said— I’m sure he did, when he came that last time, you’d sent him to Brussels to keep him away from me, and I asked him if there was anyone else and he said there was this girl you’d more or less chosen for him?’ Her voice rose, making that a question, and Nicolas had stopped smiling.

  Now he said, ‘Listen to me,’ which was unnecessary advice when she was hanging on to every word. ‘You may not like this, but you have to hear it. The reason Nigel kept away after your accident was because he couldn’t face what the future might hold. He asked to be posted overseas.’

  This would have shattered her if she had loved Nigel, but she was more concerned with asking Nicolas, ‘You didn’t send him? You didn’t make him go?’