Книга - A Marriage To Remember

A Marriage To Remember
Carole Mortimer


Divorce vs. DesireThree years ago Adam Carmichael had walked out on Maggi when she needed him most. Now he was back, to pick up their marriage where he'd left off - or so he thought! Maggi's first reaction was to finalize their divorce, but Adam refused point-blank. Maggi became furious - not with Adam, but with herself, because, to her dismay, part of her was relieved!Torn between divorce and desire, Maggi knew she should follow her head, not her heart. But Adam wasn't going to let her go without a fight. Carole Mortimer"delivers quality romance." - Romantic Times







“I’m your husband!” (#u22315357-b254-50e7-8219-93da8c000ea3)About the Author (#u73a6c4bf-561c-515f-90d9-0fbfe8fd1acc)Books by Carole Mortimer (#ucbbf70b9-b352-5732-9c6c-ac0ae4da9f30)Title Page (#ude6d3e63-a8cc-536b-80a2-7f404435cd86)Dedication (#ue83cc59a-f210-51c0-a7b5-d2be4d0330c5)CHAPTER ONE (#ue6df68b5-929e-57bf-9731-b299a6ccc52a)CHAPTER TWO (#u9c13e62e-03e3-5bbe-98d9-bb65a4cd0342)CHAPTER THREE (#u00bc1584-db0c-5357-9846-eebce7cd9355)CHAPTER FOUR (#u43dc91d4-e2c5-59fc-a0e3-b12448bff916)CHAPTER FIVE (#u7fc7baf9-3633-5c2a-ae2e-c18b496af34d)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


“I’m your husband!”

“You were never that.”

“We were married for two years—”

“I was married for two years,” she corrected him vehemently. “You were still Adam Carmichael, stud extraordinaire!”

His hand gripped her wrist. “Don’t start believing all the drivel you’ve read about me—”

“I didn’t need to read about it, Adam, I lived it!”


CAROLE MORTIMER says: “I was born in England, the youngest of three children—I have two older brothers. I started writing in 1978, and have now written over ninety books for Harlequin Presents.

”I have four sons—Matthew, Joshua, Timothy and Peter—and a bearded collie dog called Merlyn. I’m in a very happy relationship with Peter senior. We’re best friends as well as lovers, which is probably the best recipe for a successful relationship. We live on the Isle of Man.”


Books by Carole Mortimer

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A Marriage to Remember

Carole Mortimer






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Peter


CHAPTER ONE

HE STOOD at the back of the dimly lit, smoke-filled room, unnoticed by the crowd, especially the noisy people clamouring for attention at the bar beside him. But that was all right—they were completely unnoticed by him too.

Because he knew that as soon as the woman standing on the slightly raised dais across at the other side of the room began to sing again the crowd would forget their need for a drink, would fall into a hushed silence once more as they forgot everything but listening to the music.

She had been on stage for almost half an hour now, and it was the same each time she began to sing a new song; a pin could have been heard dropping amongst the appreciative audience. It was easy to understand why. She was good. Very good. As good as she ever had been, the haunting sensuality of her voice reaching out and touching a chord in the heart of each person in the room. She sang of love. Betrayed love. And yet there was also hope in her words. Hope of survival. And there was a joy in life itself. In the mere gift of life.

Where had she found such joy?

How?

Who with?

It was this last agonising question that ripped into him like the sharpness of a knife, that held him mesmerised as he stood silently watching the haunting beauty of her face.

Then the room fell silent around him once more as she began to lightly strum her guitar; it was an expectant silence, as if everyone in the room had suddenly held their breath at the same time.

He knew why. He too recognised those opening chords. And the words as she began to sing. It was a song he hadn’t heard for a long time. A long, long time.

Their song...


CHAPTER TWO

HE WAS in the room. She couldn’t see him. Had no idea where he was. She only knew she could feel him here. Somewhere.

She had felt his presence almost from the moment she had walked out in front of the audience, at first berating herself for her imaginings; it was ridiculous, after all this time, to feel that way. There was no logical reason to believe such a thing. But the feeling had persisted, to such an extent that she was now convinced he was definitely in the room. Listening to her.

It was incredible that she should feel like this. It was the first time she had sung in public for over three years; why would he be here?

But he was. She knew he was, had become more and more convinced of it as she continued to sing. She had looked searchingly through the crowd to see if she could recognise him, but it was difficult to see into the gloom beyond her spotlight. There were just silhouettes of people, with no distinguishing features at all.

She didn’t want to recognise him anyway. What was the point? It was all so long ago now. She was different He was different. Their lives were different.

But he was here...!

Her heart pounded in her chest—loudly, it seemed to her, as she began to play her final song for the evening, strumming the introduction on her guitar before she began to pick out the more recognisable chorus.

She wished the song weren’t in the programme now, wished she had chosen to end with any other song but this one. But it was the song she was known for, the song people remembered her for. And she hadn’t sung it in public for a long, long time.

Their song...


CHAPTER THREE

‘YOU were brilliant, Maggi! Absolutely brilliant,’ Mark enthused, his eyes shining. ‘I—’

‘Adam is here.’ She flatly cut across his enthusiastic exuberance, automatically handing him her guitar for him to put it away in the waiting case.

Mark froze in the action, frowning darkly. ‘Adam...?’ he repeated disbelievingly.

‘Can we just get out of here?’ she said agitatedly, pushing back the swathe of long straight hair that had fallen over the slenderness of one shoulder—hair as black as a raven’s wing.

‘But—’

‘Now, Mark!’ Maggi insisted firmly, snapping shut her guitar case before picking it up in preparation for leaving the room she had retreated to after leaving the stage seconds ago.

He still didn’t move, smiling at her sympathetically, well aware of the strain she had been under tonight. ‘I understand how you feel, Maggi.’ He squeezed her arm. ‘But Adam can’t be here—’

‘I’m telling you he is!’ she bit out between gritted teeth, deep blue eyes flashing a warning of just how close to breaking point she was. In fact, if they didn’t get out of this club soon, she was going to scream! Adam was here somewhere—she just knew he was—and he was the last person she wanted to see tonight, of all nights. ‘I know how unlikely it is,’ she acknowledged heavily. ‘How ridiculous it sounds. But, believe me, he is here!’

She’d had trouble believing it herself as she was singing, had thought it was perhaps just her imagination; after all, in the past Adam had always been with her when she sang. In fact, it had seemed strange to her, at the start of this evening, that he wasn’t there. But she had been wrong about that; he had been here, and she had become more and more convinced of that as the minutes passed. She had barely been able to suppress her panic in order to finish her spot on stage, and she desperately wanted to get away now, didn’t want to actually be put in a position where she would have to see him. Knowing he was here was enough...!

Mark frowned again. ‘But listen to that audience, Maggi.’ The applause could still be heard from the adjoining club-room. ‘They want you back on stage.’

The audience, a welcoming audience earlier this evening, were going wild, calling her name, demanding she come back and sing them another song. But she couldn’t do it. Not now she was convinced Adam was out there too.

She shook her head, her small, heart-shaped face as pale as alabaster against the framing blackness of her hair. ‘Maybe tomorrow night, Mark,’ she dismissed huskily. ‘I’ve had enough for one evening.’

It had been a strain for her, going back in front of an audience after all this time, which was why this particular venue, as opposed to a big concert hall, had been chosen in the first place: a music festival in a small town in the north of England, where her name could be lost amongst those of other artists appearing in the three-day event. The venues were informal— clubs, pubs, meeting-rooms—with several concerts taking place at the same time. It was exactly the right sort of place for Maggi to make her first public reappearance.

Or at least it would have been—if she hadn’t been utterly convinced that Adam was out there in the audience. Watching her. The very last person she wanted near her during her first public appearance for three years!

Mark looked at her closely, finally nodding his agreement to their leaving as he recognised the signs of strain around her eyes and mouth. ‘You’ve done well for your first night, Maggi,’ he told her with bright encouragement as they turned to leave. ‘But you’ll do even better tomorrow night—because by then it will be all around the festival that you’re back and greater than ever!’ he said confidently.

She wasn’t too sure about the latter, although she had to concede that the audience had been an appreciative one. She had been very nervous when she’d begun her spot for the evening, but from the onset had felt the audience’s warmth reaching out to her, welcoming her, and that nervousness had almost completely disappeared as they’d clapped and cheered after each song. Yes; this festival had been a good choice as a place for her to resume her career.

If only she didn’t have that nagging, uneasy feeling inside her that told her Adam was near...

Mark covered her own numbed silence on the journey back to their hotel by talking all the time, obviously pleased with the way the evening had gone. He had good reason to be; without his help and constant encouragement this evening would probably never have happened. Mark had been her emotional support over the last few years, always there when she needed a boost to her flagging morale; for his sake alone she was pleased that this appearance seemed to have gone so well.

They had chosen to stay in a big impersonal hotel just outside of town rather than in one of the busier places actually in the centre, where, for all that she had disappeared from the music scene for the last three years, it was likely she would be recognised by people attending the festival. She was nervous enough already, without having to put on a front for people who might want to talk to her.

‘The key to your suite, Miss Fennell?’ The receptionist gave her a bright, welcoming smile before turning to take the key from the hook behind her. ‘Oh, and something arrived for you earlier, but I’m afraid you had already left the hotel when it was delivered...’

Maggi paled as the other woman turned back to hand her a long, cellophane-wrapped box decorated with a red ribbon, already able to guess, from its appearance alone, exactly what it contained. A single red rose...

‘Thank you.’ Mark was the one to almost snatch the box out of the receptionist’s hands, clasping Maggi’s elbow with his other hand as he walked her over to the lift, looking down at her in concern as he did so.

Her eyes were huge in the paleness of her face, deeply blue and haunted. She was expressionless, too shocked to feel anything at this precise moment in time. It hadn’t been her imagination at all that Adam was here. He really was. The rose proved that.

Always, in the past, on the night of a performance, Adam would arrange for a single red rose to be delivered to her dressing-room at the start of the evening. As he had arranged for one to be brought to her hotel this evening...

He knew where she was staying!

Her expression was panicked as she turned to the man at her side. ‘Mark—’

‘It’s all right, Maggi,’ he soothed as he let them both into the suite. ‘It’s only a rose.’ Even as he spoke he smoothly dropped the red-ribbon-wrapped box into the bin just inside the sitting-room. ‘As easily disposed of as that,’ he added with satisfaction.

Maggi conceded that the flower might be easily disposed of, but she knew the man who’d sent it wasn’t. At least, the memory of him wasn’t. She had spent the last three years attempting to bury every memory of him—and the single act of sending her a red rose had brought all those memories flooding back. And the pain that went along with them.

Mark watched her as she slowly sat down in one of the armchairs. He was a tall, dark-haired man, a couple of years older than Maggi’s own twenty-six.

‘Maggi, don’t let him ruin this for you.’ Mark came down on his haunches beside her chair to take her hands into his much larger ones. Her fingers were chilled against his, despite the relative warmth of the autumn evening. ‘God knows, he’s already taken enough from you!’ he added with grim fierceness.

She swallowed hard, trying to rid herself of feelings of nausea. While there had still been some doubt, while she had been able to half convince herself she was imagining Adam’s presence tonight, to tell herself she had just thought he was there because he always had been in the past, she had been able to keep her emotions under control. But now there was no doubt...!

She looked at Mark with haunted eyes. ‘Why is he here, Mark?’ Her voice was huskily soft, filled with pain.

His hands tightened about hers. ‘Why was he ever anywhere?’ he returned bitterly, shaking his head. ‘If not to cause trouble?’

‘But why?’ she groaned brokenly. ‘What did I ever do to him that he should want to hurt me again now?’

She hadn’t seen or heard from Adam in three years, and yet the first time she made a public appearance... How could he do this to her, after all he had already done in the past?

‘That’s it, Maggi,’ Mark encouraged as he saw the flash of anger that suddenly lightened her eyes. ‘Don’t get sad, get mad! That bastard has caused you enough damage without trying to ruin this for you too!’

Mark was right, and despite her nervousness earlier this evening, about appearing in public again, she had also been looking forward to it in a way, to seeing if she could really still do it. And she had. She could!

That red rose might have shaken her, but Mark was also right when he said she couldn’t let that take any of her earlier triumph away from her. She had another two days of the festival to get through, when, she admitted, there was a possibility of bumping into Adam. But she was at least aware of his presence now, was prepared for it, even if she accepted that facing him again would probably be the hardest thing she would ever have to do in her life.

But she could do it. She had survived, had got through the initial difficulty of this evening too; she could certainly get through seeing Adam again.

She squared her shoulders determinedly, giving Mark a bright smile. ‘Let’s order a bottle of champagne to celebrate this evening!’ She stood up, determined to shake off the despondency that had fallen upon them both since they had seen the rose.

Mark stood up too, grinning, obviously relieved she had decided to rise to the occasion. ‘I thought you would never ask!’

They were both acting a role. Maggi accepted that, knew that with the worry of Adam’s presence somewhere in the area neither of them particularly felt like celebrating anything. But it was a role both of them were going to play, and, without another glance at the box containing the rose, Maggi telephoned Room Service to order the champagne.

Thoughts of Adam could come later, when she couldn’t put them off any longer. For the moment she only wanted to think of the success of the evening just gone. And to share that success with Mark.

‘The place is packed, Maggi!’ Mark told her excitedly the following evening as she stood waiting to go out on stage.

She could hear the sound of the audience talking loudly together as they waited for her to make an appearance, knew by the volume of noise that the large civic hall, where she was to perform tonight, must indeed be very full.

‘I told you this was what would happen once people heard of your success last night,’ Mark continued happily. ‘You’re on your way back, Maggi!’ He gave her a hug.

Her way back to where? That was what she was starting to worry about. She had been working hard towards this weekend—a long, uphill struggle that she had finally won. But if it meant she might have to see Adam again...

That was something that had never even entered her head, not at the beginning, or during those past months of planning. She’d had no reason to suppose he would want to see her again, any more than she wanted to see him. But last night he had sent that red rose...

And tonight, before she and Mark had left the hotel, there had been another rose, letting her know more forcefully than anything else could have done that Adam knew she was singing again this evening.

‘Try to look more cheerful about it,’ Mark reproved her now frowningly. ‘This is what you’ve worked so hard for.’

He was right; she knew he was. She couldn’t let Adam spoil this for her. As he had spoilt so many things before...

She had been in trepidation earlier today that Adam might turn up at the hotel looking for her. But the time had passed in relative peace, their food delivered by Room Service, she and Mark only leaving the suite for a couple of hours this afternoon to go and luxuriate in the hotel pool—and she had started to relax.

But would Adam be out there again tonight? It was logical to assume he probably would be; it was listed in the festival’s weekend programme exactly when and where she would be playing over the three-day period. It was the thought of him standing silently in the audience watching her, when she couldn’t see him—as she still felt sure he had been last night!—that was so unnerving to her. The second single rose that had been delivered to the hotel earlier seemed to be a promise of that, despite Mark’s protestations that she should just forget about it, forget about Adam. He knew better than most how she had tried to do that—he must also know how impossible she had found it to do!

Mark grasped her firmly by the tops of her arms, forcing her to look up into his boyishly handsome face. ‘Remember, Maggi, don’t get sad, get mad,’ he reminded her. ‘Don’t give Adam the satisfaction of ruining anything else for you.’

It came as no surprise to her that Mark knew exactly what—who!—was bothering her, they had always been close, but even more so recently, with Mark often seeming to know what she was thinking before she was aware of it herself.

‘You’re right.’ She straightened determinedly, a diminutive figure dressed completely in black: flat ankle boots, denims, a silk shirt open at the throat, and her long, almost waist-length hair cascading down her spine. Long silver earrings dangled against her neck, the only jewellery she wore; her slender wrists and hands were completely bare of adornment. She reached up to kiss Mark lightly on the cheek. ‘Time to go on!’ She gave him a brightly reassuring smile.

The hall was much bigger than the club last night, but as Maggi stepped out onto the stage she could see it was packed with people—people who began to clap and cheer as soon as they saw her. Her nervousness instantly fell away at this spontaneous reception, professionalism taking over, and she smiled confidently at the crowd as she began to play the opening chords to her first song.

She tried not to search the sea of faces as she performed, dreading and yet looking for that all too familiar face. But there were so many people here tonight, so many positive responses coming her way as she sang song after song, that in the end she had to give up looking. It would serve no useful purpose even if she could locate Adam in the crowd. In fact, it would have the opposite effect!

She was on for longer tonight, over an hour in all, and it felt like old times as she enjoyed herself as much as the audience obviously did.

And then the catastrophe happened!

It wasn’t such an unusual thing. Wasn’t really such a catastrophe. It was just the last thing she would have wanted to happen this evening. A string broke on the guitar she was playing—her favourite guitar. Her spare guitar was out in the room she had waited in earlier before coming on stage.

She glanced across at Mark where he stood in the wings watching her, acknowledging his nod of understanding before he strode off to get her other guitar, and turned to put her useless instrument back on the stand behind her. She would just have to sing the next song unaccompanied.

There was a ripple of sympathy amongst the audience as they recognised her dilemma, and they gave her an encouraging round of applause before she began to sing. Her voice was clear, the trueness of the notes reaching every corner of the room, and the silence was appreciative as the hush washed over the hall.

Then Maggi realised she was no longer singing unaccompanied, and that she recognised the guitar work she could hear only too well.

She turned sharply to her left, only to have her worst suspicions confirmed as to exactly why the audience had suddenly fallen so silent; Adam had walked onto the stage behind her, and it was his guitar she could now hear accompanying her.

Maggi hadn’t seen him in such a long time, and as she looked at him now she could see the changes in him. His dark hair was longer than it had been, with flecks of grey amongst its thickness. His eyes were still as dark a grey, but there were lines beneath them; and grooved into his cheeks beside his mouth, a mouth set grimly, as was the arrogant angle of his jaw.

He was dressed almost exactly the same as Maggi, in black denims and a black silk shirt, the latter unbuttoned from his throat to reveal the growth of dark hair on his chest. This was the way he had always dressed when they’d sung together in the past.

He looked at Maggi challengingly as her singing faltered at the sight of him beside her, and she knew exactly why he was frowning at her so darkly; ‘the show must go on’ had always been Adam’s attitude. No matter what the circumstances. As Maggi knew to her cost...

Adam continued to play the melody on his guitar, still looking at her expectantly, his dark gaze compelling her to begin singing again, to give the audience what they had come here for.

But he was wrong. The audience weren’t waiting for the song to resume. Their stunned silence at Adam’s unexpected appearance was replaced by whispered conversations now as they all wanted to confirm that it really was Adam Carmichael standing up on the stage beside Maggi Fennell.

Maggi was having trouble believing it herself! She had known he was here in the hall—the second rose had told her that only too clearly—but she had never guessed he would actually have the nerve to join her on the stage.

How dared he? As Mark had said, ‘Don’t get sad, get mad.’ And she was mad—in fact she was furious. How dared Adam do this to her?

‘Sing, damn it!’ he muttered between gritted teeth, while keeping up a completely impersonal expression for the people who were looking at the two of them so curiously now.

Sing! She wasn’t sure a sound would pass her lips, let alone any that would actually be in tune. They hadn’t stood together on a stage like this for so long, she—

‘I said sing!’ he grated again, playing the introduction to the song once again.

Maggi could see Mark at the side of the stage, holding her second guitar in his hand, knew he was riveted to the spot as he saw who was standing beside her. But he had to know, too, that there was nothing he could do about Adam’s presence either, not without causing a scene. And that was the last thing any of them wanted in front of so many people.

But she needed her guitar if she was to continue— if only as something for her to hold onto! She quickly crossed the stage to take the instrument from Mark’s unresisting fingers.

‘What the hell—?’ Mark muttered furiously as he looked across at the other man.

Maggi shook her head wordlessly. For the moment there was nothing either of them could do about this situation; she just had to get on with the performance. What happened after that was anybody’s guess!

Her smile was one of complete professionalism as she turned back to face the audience, her gaze having passed sightlessly over Adam; if she didn’t look at him, maybe she would be able to get through this. Maybe...

She began to sing, accompanying herself on the guitar, aware that her own guitar work was not as good as Adam’s more intricate style. But then, it never had been; their styles had always complemented each other, had never been the same.

Adam had chosen to play—deliberately, so it seemed to Maggi—one of the songs they’d used to sing together, and as they approached the chorus she waited tensely for Adam to join in the harmony. His voice had always been rich and deep, a perfect contrast for her higher, throaty voice.

Even Maggi felt the goose-bumps down her spine as the two of them harmonised perfectly. God, it was as if they had never stopped singing together, as if they had been practising this song for weeks in the build-up to the music festival. And instead they hadn’t even seen each other for three years, hadn’t sung together for a long time before that...

The audience went wild with appreciation as the last notes trailed off the guitars, instantly recognising the perfection of Maggi and Adam’s performance. But it had always been like this between them on stage, a complete rapport, an understanding that went so much deeper than the music.

But Maggi still couldn’t bring herself to look at Adam, her heart sinking as the audience shouted for more. Not that she blamed any of these people for their enthusiasm; they were witnessing an event that had never been expected to happen again—Adam Carmichael and Maggi Fennell singing together once more.

“‘Home Town”,’ Adam prompted softly at her side, mentioning a song the two of them had recorded together several years ago, a song that had once been very successful for them.

She looked at him sharply, making no effort to comply with the command. ‘I don’t need you any more, Adam,’ she returned as softly. Both were aware of the live microphones in front of them.

His expression hardened; his grey eyes narrowed. ‘You never did. But at the moment we have an audience to please,’ he muttered harshly. “‘Home Town”,’ he repeated, with a firmness that brooked no argument, instantly launching into the fast introduction to the song.

All of this was beyond Maggi’s worst nightmares, and how she managed to get through the next thirty minutes she had no idea. But the audience were wild with joy, refusing to let them stop, demanding song after song, most of which Maggi had thought she would never, ever sing again.

She did all of it without looking at Adam—found she couldn’t look at him; it brought back too many memories. Memories she would rather forget...

‘We’ve gone over our time,’ she finally told him flatly as she pulled the guitar strap over her head, a signal to the audience, too, that she had finished. She flicked back the shining length of her hair.

Adam kept his guitar strap over his shoulder. ‘They want more,’ he pointed out dryly. Most of the audience were on their feet now, sensing they were going to lose the highlight of the evening, probably of the whole festival, and unwilling to relinquish such a treat.

Maggi’s blue eyes flashed as she looked across at him. ‘There are other people waiting to perform,’ she reminded him stiffly. The next performer had been standing in the wings for the last ten minutes, and was talking animatedly to Mark now—a Mark who didn’t look too responsive to whatever was being said to him as his gaze remained fixed fiercely on Maggi and Adam.

Adam glanced across at the two men in the wings too, ignoring Mark’s scowling face and grinning his satisfaction when the other man gestured his willingness for Maggi and Adam to continue. ‘He doesn’t seem to mind,’ Adam told Maggi with satisfaction.

‘But—’

“‘Passing Years”, Magdalena,’ Adam insisted challengingly.

Only Adam had ever called her by the name chosen by her Spanish mother; most people, her English father and even her mother, preferred to call her by the shortened version of Maggi. His use of her full name was enough to evoke even stronger memories of Adam and herself.

As was his suggestion that they sing ‘their song’...

She could feel her face pale even at the thought. She had sung it last night because it had been expected of her. But then she had sung it alone. She never wanted to perform that particular song with Adam again. It was too—She just couldn’t sing it with him!

‘You can, Magdalena,’ Adam bit out harshly, and Maggi realised she must have unwittingly spoken her protest out loud. ‘You can do anything you damn well want to!’ he added grimly.

She looked at him sharply, at the accusation in his cold grey eyes. ‘I don’t want to do this,’ she told him furiously.

‘Stop acting like a spoilt child, Magdalena.’ The coldness of his tone was like a slap in the face. ‘You chose to come back, to put yourself in the public eye again, and now you have to give them what they want!’

It was obvious, from the shouted encouragement of the audience, that what they wanted was for Adam and Maggi to continue—all night if possible. It was also obvious that Adam was quite happy to do that.

It had always been like this with Adam; everyone else’s feelings had always meant more to him than hers. He hadn’t changed, would never change.

‘All right, Adam, we’ll do this one last song,’ she finally conceded flatly, swinging her guitar strap back over her head onto her slender shoulder. ‘And then I’m leaving the stage. After that I don’t ever want to see you again.’ Her voice was strong and unyielding, but the words sounded childish in their intensity. But it was the truth; once she left this stage this evening she didn’t want Adam anywhere near her.

‘The first you may be able to do,’ he murmured softly, before turning back to the waiting audience. ‘The second you may not have any choice about,’ he added grimly.

Maggi looked at him sharply; exactly what did he mean by that last remark?


CHAPTER FOUR

‘I CAN’T believe he did that!’ Mark strode angrily up and down in their hotel suite. ‘I just couldn’t believe it was actually him up on the stage with you when I came back from the dressing-room with your guitar. Arrogant bastard!’ He shook his head, as if he still couldn’t quite take in what he had seen.

Maggi could easily understand his anger and disbelief; she was sure a lot of other people who had been in that hall tonight were still stunned at having seen Adam Carmichael.

As she was!

It all seemed like a dream now that they were back at their hotel, Maggi having escaped from the stage at the end of ‘their song’, glancing back only once, to see that Adam wasn’t having the same success in leaving, the audience calling for more, refusing to let him go. And with good reason; Adam was, and always had been, a phenomenon in his own right. He had gone on in the last three years to be an entertainer much in demand all over the world. The audience tonight had been more than aware of just how privileged they were to hear him sing so unexpectedly.

But Maggi could well have done without it, and was still shaken by the way he had joined her on stage in that autocratic way. But then, he always had been the most arrogant man she’d ever met in her life; he didn’t believe any of the rules were meant for him, living his life by his own set of codes—and they were like no one else’s. When Maggi had first met him she had believed his arrogance to be self-confidence, had felt protected by it—it had only been later that she had learnt, to her cost, just how wrong she was...!

‘He ruined your comeback, damn him!’ Mark continued furiously. ‘You were going to do this on your own, and now he’s—’

‘What’s done is done, Mark.’ She sat in one of the armchairs, exhausted, mainly by all the emotional trauma of the evening. ‘There’s nothing we can do to change that,’ she added wearily, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that the music festival had turned into a fiasco as far as the return of her music career went.

It had all been planned so carefully, the whole thing to be taken slowly: the music festival this weekend, a couple of other low-key gigs lined up for next month—nothing too exacting, just a slow introduction back into the world she loved best. But if the Press got to hear of the performance with Adam this evening...!

‘I can’t do the third evening tomorrow, Mark,’ she told him.

Mark stopped his pacing and looked across at her. ‘You have to, Maggi.’ He frowned. ‘You’re billed to appear and people will be expecting to hear you.’ Mark was another person who believed that the public must be given what they wanted.

She shook her head, a rueful smile on her lips. ‘They will be expecting to hear Adam too now,’ she pointed out with a heavy sigh. ‘And they will be disappointed,’ she added determinedly; there was no way she was going to perform tomorrow evening and have Adam do to her again what he had done tonight. ‘I—’ She broke off as a knock sounded firmly on the door of their hotel suite, her eyes wide as she gave a startled look in its direction.

She didn’t need two guesses as to who was standing on the other side of it; Adam had obviously managed to find her at last. She didn’t want to see him just now. If ever!

‘It’s Adam,’ she told Mark with certainty, standing up abruptly. ‘I don’t want to see him, Mark.’ She gave a shake of her head.

Mark’s mouth was set angrily, blue eyes blazing as he too turned towards the door. ‘But I do!’ he grated. ‘I—’

‘Then you see him,’ she dismissed agitatedly as that knock sounded firmly again. ‘I’m going to my room.’ She turned quickly on her heel.

‘This had to happen some time, Maggi,’ Mark called after her softly. ‘Isn’t it better to get it over with now?’

Speak to Adam? Be close to him once again? Know the full force of his personality? Know she had once loved him to distraction? Until he had destroyed that love as callously as he might have swatted a fly, when it no longer suited him to have her love. To look at him again and know all that?

‘No!’ she told Mark with a shudder of revulsion. ‘It isn’t better to “get it over with now”. I was over Adam a long time ago, said everything that needed to be said then; I have no reason to ever see him again!’ She strode determinedly from the room, unwilling to listen to any more arguments for reason from Mark, closed her bedroom door behind her and sat down heavily on the bed, because her legs were shaking too much to support her, reaction having set in with a vengeance.

She had sung on a stage with Adam this evening—something she had been sure would never happen again. Something she had sworn would never happen again!

Even now she still had trouble believing it had happened. It had been just like old times, their voices harmonising as if it were only yesterday when they’d last sung together.

They had been the perfect couple, both on and off the stage. Everyone had said so. The love they had shared had deepened their performance when they’d sung together. Until tragedy had struck so unexpectedly and Maggi could no longer sing at Adam’s side. It had been then, when she’d already felt as if she was in the depths of despair, that she had learnt all too forcibly just how tenuous the love that Adam had professed to feel for her was.

She could hear the murmur of voices in the other room, knew that whatever Mark had said when he opened the door to Adam it hadn’t been enough to get the other man to leave. Not that she would have expected it to be. Adam had been arrogant enough three years ago; his solo success since that time had probably just made him more so!

Mark’s voice was rising in anger now, and Maggi felt herself cringe inside as she heard the slow coldness with which Adam made his replies. He always had been able to rip a person to shreds with that icy control, and no matter how angry Mark might be, and however justified his anger, Maggi knew he was no match for Adam’s cool determination.

Mark’s voice seemed to be getting louder. ‘I’ve told you, Adam—’

‘I don’t give a damn what you’ve told me,’ Adam returned harshly. ‘I intend to see Magdalena before I leave.’ Even as he made this last statement the bedroom door was flung open, Adam almost filling the doorway as he stood there, his six-foot-four height only inches away from the top of the doorframe.

‘Nice bedroom,’ he drawled mockingly as he strolled nonchalantly into the room, just as if it hadn’t been ages since they had last spoken, as if there hadn’t been all that heartache with the passing of those years. ‘I’m sure the two of you are very comfortable here,’ he added hardly, grey eyes still icy cold as he met Maggi’s rebellious gaze. ‘You always did like your creature comforts, didn’t you, Magdalena? And a nice big bed was one of them.’ He looked pointedly at the king-size bed she still sat on. ‘Preferably with a man inside it!’ he added harshly.

Maggi gasped at his insulting tone, and in the outer room she could see Mark’s hands clench into fists at his sides; she knew that his volatile temper was in danger of exploding. But it would be no match for the freezing concentration of Adam’s!

She drew in a deep breath and stood up, feeling at a complete disadvantage sitting on the bed. Not that standing up made too much difference to that; Adam always had had the ability to make her look—and feel!—like a little girl disguised as a woman, her shortness and slenderness of frame emphasised by his height and sheer masculinity.

‘How right you are,’ she returned, sounding much more calm than she actually felt. ‘But I do draw the line at having two men in my bedroom at the same time!’ she told him levelly, walking over to the doorway where Mark still stood. ‘Shall we all go through to the lounge?’ She looked at them both pointedly.

Adam shrugged broad shoulders beneath his black silk shirt. ‘I’m quite happy for this conversation to take place in there,’ he dismissed with a mocking twist of his lips. ‘It was your boyfriend here who had a problem with it.’ He looked contemptuously down his aristocratic nose at Mark as he strode past him; he was several inches taller than the younger man, despite Mark’s own six feet in height.

Maggi walked slowly back into the sitting-room, aware of the two men behind her; they were so different as to be almost opposites. Mark was easygoing, comfortable to be with, undemanding, whereas Adam, ten years his senior, had never been any of those things; he was the most demanding man she had ever met, and, far from finding him comfortable to be with, she had always been very aware of him in every way, her senses constantly alive to his mere presence.

Which was probably why she had been so sure last night that he was at this music festival; she had sensed he was there!

‘You’re looking well, Magdalena,’ Adam told her softly once they were all assembled in the sitting-room.

That name again!

She sat down in one of the armchairs, more tired from the strain of the evening than she cared to admit. She sat forward in the chair, unable to relax, the darkness of her hair falling forward over her shoulders. ‘How did you expect me to look, Adam?’ she returned scornfully, deep blue eyes clashing with icy grey. ‘Broken and defeated?’ As she had undoubtedly been on the day he’d left her life three years ago!

At the time she hadn’t believed, after what had already happened to her, that her life could get any worse than it already was; how wrong she had been! She hadn’t allowed for Adam, for his cold selfishness.

His mouth tightened. ‘No, I—’

‘As you can see, Adam—’ Mark was the one to interrupt him ‘—Maggi is happy and well—and doing just fine without you!’ he added challengingly.

Glacial eyes were turned in his direction. ‘When I want your opinion, dear cousin—’ Adam drawled the last two words insultingly ‘—I’ll ask for it! At this moment I happen to be talking to Magdalena.’

Cousin. Yes, these men were first cousins. It was hard to believe they could be related, that their mothers had been sisters, but it had been through her friendship with Mark that she had first met Adam, having accompanied the younger man to a family wedding. Adam had got up to sing during the reception and Mark had encouraged Maggi to join him. Even then, though their performance was completely unrehearsed, it had been obvious to the people listening that there was something magical about the two of them singing together.

Adam had been at the wedding with his long-term girlfriend, Jane, and Maggi had been dating Mark for almost six months. But something had happened between the two of them that day, and when Adam had telephoned her a couple of days later, having got her number from Mark, and suggested they go through some songs together with the intention of actually performing them in front of an audience in the future, Maggi had felt no hesitation in agreeing to meet him.

If only she had hesitated! If only she could have known the heartache that would follow, then she would never, ever have gone near Adam after that telephone call.

‘As Mark has already told you,’ she firmly answered Adam now, ‘I am very well, thank you.’

Adam’s mouth twisted again at the formality of her tone. ‘I’m so glad!’ he returned tauntingly.

Her head went back challengingly. ‘Are you?’

Adam’s jaw tensed, a warning of his building anger. ‘What sort of question is that? Of course I’m glad you’re fit and well again,’ he bit out harshly.

‘I would have thought Maggi’s scepticism was only too well deserved,’ Mark derided dismissively. ‘You haven’t exactly been falling over yourself with concern for her welfare in the last three years!’

Adam was very still, a nerve pulsing in his now tightly clenched jaw, the lines beside his nose and mouth, acquisitions of those years, becoming more pronounced. ‘And just how would you know what I have been doing?’ he grated accusingly. ‘You seem to have had your hands full during that time bedding Magdalena!’

‘Mark, no!’ Maggi had time to shout before she rushed across the room to stop his fist actually making contact with Adam, managing to put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘He isn’t worth it, Mark,’ she told him quietly, her gaze softly compelling on his flushed face. ‘He never was,’ she added heavily, knowing it was true.

It had taken her a long time to accept it—weeks, months of pain and disillusionment, before realising that after two years of living her life for and with Adam he was no longer there for her, not physically or emotionally. That perhaps he never had been.

It was said that you never knew the extent of a person’s love until faced with adversity; Adam had turned and walked away the first time their relationship had come up against a serious obstacle.

She turned to look at him as he stood so mockingly in front of Mark. ‘Our relationship is none of your concern, Adam,’ she told him flatly. ‘Nothing that has happened in my life over the last three years is,’ she added determinedly.

Adam’s mouth curved wryly. ‘I’ve been waiting most of that time for some family announcement of a wedding between the two of you.’ He looked at them both coldly. ‘Or did she turn you down a second time, Mark?’ he added scornfully.

Again Maggi put a restraining hand on Mark’s arm. Adam had always liked to bait the younger man. The friendship she’d had with his cousin before knowing him had always been a sore point with him, even though it had been Adam she had loved. It was true that perhaps if she had never met Adam she might have one day married Mark. But she had met Adam, and so the question of any marriage between herself and Mark was now ridiculous. As Adam must know only too well. He was just playing his games again—and she, for one, did not want to play!

‘Mark and I don’t need marriage to cement our relationship.’ Again Maggi was the one to answer him. ‘We know how we feel about each other,’ she added challengingly, feeling some of the tension leave Mark as her hand still rested on his arm.

Adam’s mouth thinned disapprovingly. ‘So does everyone else when the two of you are openly staying here together!’ He looked around him pointedly.

‘Moral indignation, Adam?’ Mark taunted, completely in control again now, squeezing Maggi’s hand in thanks for her support before moving slightly away. ‘That’s rich, coming from you.’ He looked at the other man contemptuously.

Neither Maggi nor Mark, she was sure, had any intention of telling Adam that this suite had two bedrooms: one for Mark and one for herself. If he chose to believe the two of them shared the bedroom they had just left, then that was Adam’s problem. He only had his own warped morals by which to judge other people...

Adam looked coldly at the younger man for several seconds before slowly turning back to Maggi. ‘I didn’t come here to talk to the monkey,’ he bit out disgustedly, his gaze dark on Maggi’s face now. ‘I spoke to the organisers of the festival after you left earlier,’ he told her smoothly. ‘They were very pleased with the way things went this evening.’

‘You had no right to talk to any—’

‘I’m sure they were,’ Maggi interrupted Mark’s angry outburst, glaring steadily at Adam.

He nodded unconcernedly. ‘They would like us to repeat the performance tomorrow evening.’

‘No,’ she told him flatly, having already guessed what he was going to say; the organisers of the festival would be very silly not to try and cash in on the fact that Adam Carmichael was willing to perform. ‘For one thing, I’m sure a world-famous celebrity like yourself must have a more pressing engagement—’

‘None that I can think of,’ he dismissed easily, looking at her challengingly now, hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his black trousers.

‘And for another,’ she continued as if he hadn’t interrupted, ‘I’m a solo performer myself now. I don’t sing with anyone else.’ It was a flat statement of fact which held no challenge. ‘The organisers either accept that, and I go on stage alone tomorrow evening, or I don’t perform at all,’ she added.

His mouth twisted. ‘You’re better than you ever were, Magdalena,’ he acknowledged dryly. ‘So I’m sure they will accept that.’

‘Then there’s no problem, is there?’ She gave him a humourless smile, immune to his praise, knowing that it was being given on a purely professional level; that was one area where Adam was always completely objective. As she knew only too well.

He shrugged those broad shoulders. ‘The problem is, we were always better together than apart.’

Maggi drew in a harsh breath. ‘It’s a little late in the day for you to realise that!’ she snapped scornfully.

‘I always knew it, Magdalena,’ he told her softly. ‘It’s just that there were commitments three years ago, commitments you weren’t able to meet—’

‘You know damn well why she wasn’t able to meet them!’ Mark exploded. ‘Good God, man, she—’

‘That’s all old ground, Mark,’ she interrupted firmly, her voice a little shriller than she would have wished. But to talk of the past was still hurtful for her; she couldn’t deal with it objectively. ‘It certainly has no relevance to here and now. It must be all too obvious that we have completely separate lives now, Adam. And I want it to continue that way,’ she added hardly. Knowing Adam in the past had ultimately brought her only pain; she had no illusions left where he was concerned. She certainly didn’t want her life involved with his again—not in any way!

‘Musically—’

‘Musically too,’ she cut in. ‘It’s late, Adam,’ she continued. ‘It’s been a long day, and I would like to get some sleep.’

He made no move to leave. ‘You do realise there are bound to be repercussions from our being on stage together tonight?’

She wasn’t so naive that she didn’t realise their joint performance this evening would give rise to speculation about a new merging of talents; she just didn’t want to deal with it now. Certainly not when Adam was present!

‘I think the only repercussion that is likely to occur as a result of tonight’s one-off performance,’ Mark cut in dismissively, ‘is that the general public will see that Maggi Fennell and Adam Carmichael are—publicly, at least—friends again, despite all the media speculation.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Privately, of course, it’s a completely different story!’ He turned to comfort Maggi. ‘I don’t think too much harm will come out of this evening, love,’ he assured her gently.

‘You’re a fool, Mark,’ the older man told him coldly. ‘But then, you always were. Magdalena—’

‘Get out of here, Adam,’ Mark bit out shortly.

‘I—’

‘Can’t you see Maggi has had enough?’ the younger man interjected forcefully.

She could feel Adam’s gaze on her now, didn’t need to look at him to know he was looking at her. And she knew what he would see, knew that her face was pale, ethereally so, her eyes made to look even darker because of the shadows beneath them. She had never been particularly robust before her illness, but now her health was delicate to say the least. Tonight had been a strain she could well have done without.

‘You’re right,’ Adam finally, grudgingly conceded. ‘I’ll come back in the morning, for breakfast, and we can talk about this then—’

‘No!’ Mark was right; she had had enough. By rights Adam shouldn’t even be here, let alone be dictating what they would and wouldn’t do. Her eyes flashed. ‘I’ve told you, Adam.’ She looked at him unblinkingly. ‘We have nothing left to say to each other. About anything,’ she added to save his protests. ‘I don’t want you to come back here, tomorrow or any other time. Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I’m tired and I’m going to bed.’ She didn’t wait for a response from either man, turning sharply on her heel and going back to her bedroom.

It was only as she closed the door thankfully behind her that she realised she must have stopped breathing during that short walk to the bedroom; she gasped air into her starved lungs as she leant back against the door.

Seeing Adam up on the stage had been one thing but having him here in her hotel suite was something else entirely, his proximity bringing back memories she had deliberately buried in the back of her mind. She’d had to. For her own sanity. To think of the better times, the happier times with Adam, when she’d been so ill and desperate for him, would have driven her completely insane!

She sat on the bed as she heard the murmur of male voices again outside, then the firm closing of the suite door seconds later. Adam had gone...!

‘Come in,’ she called as a soft knock on her bedroom door followed his exit from the suite. She smiled wanly at Mark as he came concernedly into the room. ‘He’s gone?’

‘Yes,’ Mark rasped.

She nodded. ‘Let’s not have an inquest about it, hmm, and just hope we’ve seen the last of him?’ That would perhaps be too much to hope for; Adam no doubt had other ideas on the subject. But there was always the possibility that he would one day do something completely unselfish and surprise her!

‘I don’t understand what he’s doing here; my mother said he was in America,’ Mark muttered irritatedly.

Maggi raised startled brows. ‘Your mother keeps you informed of Adam’s movements?’ She had never realised that, had simply believed Mark showed no interest in Adam, as she didn’t.

Mark was still scowling. ‘As you know, we’re the only family he has, and with someone like Adam it’s best to know exactly what he’s up to!’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘A lot of good it did me this time,’ he acknowledged in self-disgust. ‘Look, like you’ve already said, it’s been a long evening for you,’ he said, before coming over and kissing her lightly on the cheek. ‘The best thing is probably for us both to get that good night’s sleep, and think about this again in the morning.’

Maggi didn’t want to think about Adam at all; if she did she would never get to sleep! But she knew what Mark meant. Emotions were just running too high at the moment for any logic to be applied to the situation.

She smiled up at Mark gratefully. ‘Don’t forget to call Andrea,’ she reminded him indulgently as he went to leave the room.

He paused to grin at her. ‘Not unless I’ve ceased to value certain parts of my anatomy!’ he conceded lightly, chuckling softly to himself as he left the bedroom.

Adam was so wrong about her own relationship with Mark; far from the two of them being lovers, Mark had developed a deep relationship with the woman who had been her physiotherapist for three years. Maggi was so pleased for them both; she liked Andrea enormously, and Mark more than deserved to find happiness.

Andrea was working in France at the moment, with a young child who had been involved in an accident, but she would be back in a few weeks, and in the meantime Mark was helping Maggi, taking care of all the details which she still found it something of a strain to deal with.

Three years... That was how long it had taken her to learn to walk again after the accident...

She and Adam had been coming back from a gig one night, both of them tired. Adam had been driving the powerful white Mercedes with his usual skill, but had been given no chance to avoid the other vehicle that had suddenly veered across the motorway onto their side of the road and hit them almost head-on. What had been so miraculous about it was that Adam had escaped almost unhurt, with just a few cuts and bruises, whereas Maggi had had a serious pelvic injury and had broken both her legs, giving the doctors serious doubts about her ability to ever walk again.

She had been in hospital for weeks, barely aware of her surroundings, let alone what was going on in the outside world. When she had left the hospital almost three months after the accident, it had been in a wheelchair.

But if she had thought there had been pain while she was in hospital it was as nothing compared to the misery she had suffered once she was at home. Life, as they said, had to go on, and what no one had told her, during those months when she was in hospital, was that Adam’s life had certainly gone on—without her!

Such had been their popularity in those days that the two of them had been engaged to sing for months in advance, having bookings as far as eighteen months away. The performances they were to have fulfilled directly after the accident had been cancelled, but the ones following that hadn’t been—and Adam had gone on to make them with someone else!

Maggi had met Sue Castle in the past, she and Adam having appeared together on the same bill as Sue a couple of times, but it had come as a complete shock to her to find that Adam was singing with the other woman, and very successfully too.

Of course, Adam had explained that it was only a temporary arrangement, that once Maggi was back on her feet the present arrangement would be terminated. In the meantime Maggi had been left at home, battling to recover from the injuries that still made it impossible for her to walk, while Adam had disappeared night after night with the other woman. Until the night he hadn’t come home...

Maggi gave a shudder of revulsion at the memory, standing up abruptly. Even now she didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to remember that final humiliation. Adam hadn’t replaced her in just the musical side of his life but in every way, leaving Maggi feeling totally superfluous, a useless waste of space and time as far as he was concerned.

But she wasn’t superfluous now—not to herself, at least. She had spent her time building her life back up, putting the pieces back together. And she had succeeded; she had finally managed to walk again, to sing again, to resume her career. And if she knew part of her would never recover from Adam’s betrayal perhaps that was a good thing too: she would never be so stupid about emotions and love ever again...

‘I’ve ordered breakfast to be served in here,’ Mark told her when she emerged from her bedroom into the lounge the next morning. ‘I thought you would prefer it,’ he added with a grimace.

As Mark had probably guessed, it hadn’t been a good night. Her sleep, when she’d finally managed to drift off, had been filled with the nightmares that had once occurred with sickening regularity but which were now a rarity. At first, when she’d still been in hospital, the dreams had been about the accident, but later, once she was home again, those dreams had been about Adam—an Adam who seemed never to be at home, who always seemed distant and preoccupied when he was.

She smiled at Mark gratefully as she sat down to pour them both a cup of coffee. ‘Good idea,’ she said brightly, not wanting him to see just how disturbed a night she had really had. ‘What are the plans for today?’ She helped herself to some toast she didn’t really want, lightly buttering it as she looked at Mark questioningly.

‘I thought perhaps you should rest today—’

‘But I rested yesterday, Mark. And the day before that,’ she recalled ruefully. ‘We haven’t seen anything of the area yet,’ she reminded him.

‘The forecast is for rain today.’ He frowned, drinking his own coffee.

‘That shouldn’t bother us too much in the car.’ Maggi smiled. They had driven up several days ago in Maggi’s BMW, deciding they would prefer the freedom of having their own transport during their stay; she was surprised Mark now seemed reluctant to take advantage of it. She looked at him closely. ‘Has something happened, Mark?’ He hadn’t actually looked at her since she’d come into the room, and he seemed to be having trouble meeting her gaze now.

He looked startled. ‘What do you mean?’ he said sharply. ‘What could have possibly happened? I told you, I just thought you might like breakfast in here.’

Maggi was more convinced than ever that there was something wrong; Mark was one of the most amiable, even-tempered people she knew, and yet at the moment he was definitely agitated about something. There was only one person who was guaranteed to make him feel that way!

‘Have you heard something else from Adam? Is that it?’ she prompted ruefully. ‘You really shouldn’t let him get to you, Mark,’ she dismissed, with more self-confidence than she actually felt; Adam had always been a force to be reckoned with. ‘We—’

‘I don’t give a damn about Adam,’ Mark told her as he stood up abruptly. ‘Except that his mere presence here seems to create the usual problems.’ He scowled darkly.

She shrugged. ‘Maybe he’s gone now; we certainly made ourselves more than clear last night!’

‘I doubt it!’ Mark grimaced. ‘But it’s really irrelevant now whether he’s gone or not.’ He gave an impatient shake of his head.

Maggi frowned up at him. ‘Why now? Mark, what’s happened?’ She demanded to know this time, knowing that something certainly had.

He gave a heavy sigh. ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t have to know about this. I was going to shield you from it as best I could, but the situation seems to be spiralling out of control, and—’

‘Mark, you still aren’t making much sense.’ Her frown deepened to one of puzzlement. ‘If it isn’t Adam, what situation are you talking about?’

‘It isn’t Adam himself, but of course he’s involved in it. Up to his neck—as usual!’ Mark’s expression blackened. ‘I’ve had to stop all telephone calls coming into the suite, and the hotel management delivered a message a short time ago to inform us that members of the Press are starting to arrive here at the hotel. They have managed to put the reporters off so far by claiming you aren’t registered—which is basically true, because the suite is booked in my name.’ He was talking almost to himself now. ‘But I somehow doubt that’s going to stop them for long—’

‘Mark, what is this all about?’ Maggi stood up too now, her agitation evident. He gave another heavy sigh, reaching down behind the sofa. ‘A newspaper was delivered with breakfast. I took one look at it and sent down to Reception for the rest of this morning’s publications. I wish to God I hadn’t, because they just got progressively worse!’ he groaned.

Maggi’s hand shook slightly as she reached for the newspapers, the colour leaving her face as she saw the first headline. FENNELL AND CARMICHAEL RECONCILED IN MORE THAN MUSIC? She picked up another newspaper, swallowing hard at the more personal leader of this one. MAGGI AND ADAM BACK TOGETHER? And the last one she looked at had her swaying on her feet. HAVE MAGGI AND ADAM SECRETLY RECONCILED?

Reconciled... Yes, she and Adam were still married, had made vows to each other in church—vows Adam had broken all too easily when it had suited him to do so.

There had been speculation about them in the Press for months after their separation three years ago, but it had eventually died down, leaving Maggi to apply quietly to Adam for a divorce. It was an application he’d chosen to ignore; the papers had never been returned to her, signed or otherwise.

Maggi had believed it best that they quietly break their ties with each other, but obviously this hadn’t suited Adam at all. Perhaps his marriage to her had become a good safeguard against any other woman expecting a commitment from him! Whatever his reasons, she was still married to him.

Now the speculation about the two of them had begun all over again... Although she didn’t think even Adam himself could have realised those repercussions that he had discussed would involve such personal speculation about the two of them. Or perhaps he had...? No, she was being ridiculous now. God, surely some part of her didn’t still hope those nightmarish three years without Adam had all been just that—a nightmare? That would be madness itself!


CHAPTER FIVE

‘WE HAVE to get out of here, Maggi,’ Mark told her distractedly. “The management aren’t going to be able to hold them off for ever. I—’ He broke off as a sharp knock sounded on the door. ‘Oh, damn!’ He suddenly looked as hunted as Maggi felt.

Understandably so. There was no back way out of this suite, and if the Press had—

‘Open the damned door!’ rasped an all too recognisable voice from the other side. ‘Before someone sees me out here, puts two and two together—and comes up with five!’

‘Adam!’ Mark muttered. ‘I should have known he wouldn’t stay away.’

‘I think we should open the door, Mark.’ Maggi stood up. ‘Adam’s right. If he’s seen—!’ She moved swiftly to the door, unlocking it, moving sharply back as Adam instantly pushed his way into the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

He looked somehow older in the harsh light of day, flecks of grey more visible in the darkness of his hair, those lines Maggi had noticed the night before, beside his nose and mouth, more deeply grooved. He was thinner than he used to be as well, his denims resting low down on his hips, his pale blue shirt tucked in at the waistband. But his eyes were still the same, she noticed with shocked reaction, stepping back—cold and grey, like an arctic sea...





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