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'I suppose you've ruined your dinner now,' clucked Sara.
'I doubt it.' Hazel left the kitchen with a. laugh, the smile quickly fading as she saw Rafe in the reception area.
'I suppose you've been begging food from Sara,' he said with a sigh. 'You aren't a child any longer, Hazel. You'll have to learn to eat with the grown-ups.’
'Yes, Rafe.'
He started to smile. 'Don't sound so demure, little one. I'll still argue with you whether you answer me back or not, so you might: as well have the satisfaction of spitting at me like a wild-cat.'
'You antagonise me first,' she protested,
'Not all the time.'
'Most of the time.'
'Maybe,' he nodded distantly, all humour gone from his face. 'Are you ready to do that paperwork now?'
'Now?' She couldn't help her dismay, she had been looking forward to a long soak in the bath, a leisurely manicure, and time spent in perfecting her make-up. If she went into the study with Rafe now she wouldn't have time for any of that.
'Is there anything wrong with now?' he asked.
'Well, I—'
'I haven't forgotten you're going out. I won't keep you too long.'
She followed him dejectedly, seeing her chances of going to her room fast disappearing. But she had offered to help him, she couldn't dictate the time he chose to do the work. Besides, it would give her something to do tomorrow. It might be Sunday, but she had nothing else to do.
'How are you coping with the jet-lag?' Rafe asked, seated behind his desk.
Hazel sat poised with her notepad open, a pencil in her hand, waiting to take the replies to the mail. She shrugged. 'Okay, I guess.'
'Good.' Without bothering to make further conversation he launched into a fast monologue of replies to certain letters. The advertisements and circulars he threw in the bin without a second glance.
In between each letter they paused briefly while Rafe quickly slimmed the contents of the next letter, giving Hazel time to study him. He looked tired, deep lines etched beside his nose and mouth, and there were strands of grey among the thick darkness of his hair. And he had a habit of running his fingers down the jagged edge of his scar, as if he still remembered the pain involved in getting it.
She read through the last dictated letter, noticing how Rafe seemed to have retreated into his inner thoughts, his fingers running distractedly over the scar edge.
'Does that: bother you?' she asked him softly.
'Does what bother me?' he replied tersely.
She realised her mistake by the scowl on his face. Now was still not the time to talk of his accident; he still resented her intrusion into his private pain. 'I only wondered------'
He stood up, thrusting his chair back savagely. ‘You only wondered what sort of "hell I go through in the middle of the night when my face throbs as if red-hot needles are being poked into my skin, and the bones in my hip grind together until I almost go insane. That's what you wondered, isn't it?'
'Oh, Rafe, I------'
'Isn't it?' he demanded fiercely, glaring at her with tortured eyes.
Tears filled her eyes. 'No, I------'
'You damned little liar!' He turned his back on her. 'Get out of here! Get out of my sight.’
'Rafe, please! I—'
'If you don't go,' he warned threateningly, 'I may not be answerable for the consequences.'
'Rafe,------'
'Do it, Hazel. Leave.'
She left.
CHAPTER FOUR
She was shaking by the: time she entered her bedroom. Rafe had reacted much more violently than she had believed possible, he had almost frightened her. Who was she kidding?—he had frightened her.
But he had at least given her an idea of the pain he must be in, the suffering he went through without anyone realising it. It probably never even occurred to Celia to ask how he was, not that he would welcome her interference. She wouldn't mention the subject again unless he brought it up.
For now she would have to try and forget it, as she had tried to forget his, coldness on other occasions. It was late and she had to get ready, Carl was calling for her at eight o'clock. She doubted she would have time for that dinner she had promised Sara she could eat. She entered the bathroom with a sigh; her long flight of yesterday had certainly upset her system.
She was still trying to dry her nail-varnish when the doorbell sounded at exactly eight o'clock. Oh, goodness, that mean either Celia or Rafe would have to entertain Carl until she got this damned varnish dry. It could even be both of them! She blew frantically on the varnish in the hope of drying it quicker.
She was a slender, almost fragile, figure in her body-hugging black dress. Simply cut, the slender gold straps held the low neckline over her uptilted breasts. She had pondered quite a long time over her choice of dress, which was probably why she hadn't been ready on time, finally deciding on this sleek black creation.
She wanted to look grown up and sophisticated; many of the people she would see tonight hadn't seen her for three years. Besides, she wanted to prove to Rafe once and for all that she was an adult and she wanted to be treated as such.
It was ten past eight when she finally entered the lounge, her long blonde hair like a silken cloud about her shoulders. Rafe was alone with Carl, Celia probably having already gone out.
Hazel couldn't help but compare the two men, one being so fair and the other so dark. But it wasn't just their colouring that separated the two men, it was the complete difference in stance and their natural expression, most of all Rafe's natural arrogance.
Carl had only boyish attraction whereas Rafe dominated all about him with his jdark, Satanic good looks, It wasn't only their difference in age that made Rafe stand out as the more sophisticated, it was also his dark haughtiness.
Hazel walked gracefully over to Carl's side. 'Sorry I'm late,' she smiled up at him, 'but Fm sure Rafe has been entertaining you.' She wasn't sure of any such thing, Rafe was a law unto himself and if he had taken a dislike to Carl he wouldn't hesitate to show it.
'I've only just come in myself,' Rafe informed her. 'Celia was here until a few minutes ago.'
'Oh?' She looked sharply at Carl, but he didn't appear to be annoyed. Perhaps Celia had behaved herself for once.
Carl's eyes deepened darkly as they ran appreciatively over her body. 'You were well worth waiting for,' he told her softly.
Hazel blushed, conscious of Rafe's mocking stare. 'Thank you, Carl. I suppose we should be going now, Trisha will wonder what's happened to us.' She didn't think Trisha would notice their absence if she had Mark with her, in fact, she would probably welcome this time alone with him.
'You haven't had any dinner yet, Hazel,' Rafe remarked shortly.
She frowned at him, her ploy to look sophisticated obviously having failed. She felt about two years old. And Carl was looking at the two of them most oddly. 'I'm fine, Rafe,' she said brightly. 'I'm not hungry.'
'That won't work a second time,' he persisted.' Sara's getting quite worried about you.'
'Oh, I'm sure she isn't,' she attempted to bring lightness into the conversation, feeling an absolute fool in front of Carl. 'I had a huge meal about four.'
'Sara tells me it was only a salad,' he said determinedly. 'Hardly substantial.'
She put her hand firmly through the crook of Carl's arm. ‘I don't want anything else to eat,’ she lied, her hunger beginning to catch up with her.
'Very well,' Rafe said tightly. 'But you'll be ill if you continue to miss meals in this way.'
'Don't fuss, Rafe,' she said crossly. 'I'm ready if you are, Carl.'
Carl was looking slightly embarrassed by this time. 'I'm ready,’ he agreed gruffly.
'I hope I can trust you to see that Hazel doesn't get home too late,' Rafe bent his head to light a cheroot. 'She only arrived yesterday and hasn't yet got over the flight.' He ignored Hazel's furious glare.
'Certainly, Mr Savage,' Carl said hastily.
Rafe nodded distantly. 'Good night.'
Hazel waited until they were in the car and on their way before she exploded. 'The nerve of the man!' she cried out her indignation. 'Treating me like a child!’
Carl shrugged. 'I thought his concern was only natural And he did have a point—you must be very tired. It should have occurred to me before.'
'Now don't you start! I'm perfectly all right.' That wasn't strictly true; she was beginning to feel faint with hunger. She had overdone things the last couple of days, she knew that, but she didn't need Rafe to tell her. 'And telling you to get me home early,' she muttered crossly. 'He hasn't done that since I was at school.'
'He hasn't had you there for three years. He's bound to feel over-protective.’
'Over-protective!' she spluttered. 'That wasn't being over-protective, that was just being damned arrogant!'
Carl laughed at her outrage. 'Perhaps a little, but I can understand it.'
'I wish I could'
Hazel thawed out a little once they reached the club, feeling proud to be with someone as handsome as Carl as she met old acquaintances. Trisha and Mark were seated at a table with several other couples, but they had managed to keep two seats for them.
'You look great, Hazel,' Trisha leant forward to say. 'Your tan looks really good against your dress.'
Carl and Mark had disappeared to get some drinks. There has been quite a crowd at the bar when they came in, so they would probably be some time. There were quite a few people here tonight, people of all ages. Trisha's parents were here too and she waved to them across the room.
'How are you getting on with Mark?' she asked her friend. 'You're looking dressed to kill.'
'Thanks,' Trisha grinned. 'I went swimming with him this afternoon; Carl wanted you to come too, but when I telephoned the house Rafe told me you were resting.'
Hazel frowned. 'Rafe did?'
