Meryl tossed aside her finery. ‘Jarvis, this is my friend Benedict, who’s making my wedding dress.’
Jarvis said what was proper, but he was studying the young man with disfavour. As Larry had said, Benedict had the looks of a film star. He was almost tall enough to look Jarvis in the eye. His shoulders were wide, his skin tanned, his mouth finely chiselled and his eyes deep blue and expressive.
And this was the man that Meryl valued at millions, plus enduring a charade of marriage with another man. What, apart from his looks, did Benedict Steen have to make a level-headed woman-?
But this wasn’t a level-headed woman. This was Meryl, who flew off to challenge a stranger at a moment’s notice, who nearly got herself drowned and laughed it off, who scribbled all over her hand and had windmills in her head. If anybody needed protecting, she did. But who would protect her from Benedict Steen?
If it came to that, who would protect her from himself?
He kept this first meeting as short as was compatible with courtesy, informed them that he would see them at dinner, and hurried away to call Ferdy and demand his presence, and Sarah’s, that evening. He didn’t feel that he could endure it alone.
Everyone dressed for dinner, which was in the great dining room. This was Larne at its grandest, with walls covered with weapons in circular patterns, armour at every corner, the walls bearing portraits of Larne ancestors.
Benedict was in seventh heaven. ‘Such splendour! This is what I want to convey in the dress. I saw the grand staircase in the hall. Tomorrow, Meryl, I must see you sweep down it.’
Jarvis caught Ferdy’s hilarious expression and his lips twitched. He would have shared the joke with Sarah too, but somehow his eyes met Meryl’s instead and he realised that she too was amused at Benedict’s expense.
She looked glorious in a gown that he would have described as ‘something floaty in green and blue’ but which was actually one of Benedict’s most delicate creations in silk chiffon. All Jarvis could say for certain was that it enhanced the colour of her eyes in a way that made him watch her closely. Sarah had to speak to him twice before he noticed her.
It made a pleasant start to the evening, but from then on he grew more depressed. Benedict turned out to be the perfect dinner companion, able to listen to others with interest, and to talk knowledgeably on a variety of subjects. He was witty and charming, instantly at ease with Ferdy, and even making the severe Sarah laugh at his jokes.
With Meryl his manner was theatrically flirtatious. He kissed her hand, he praised her beauty, he called her ‘goddess’. But he didn’t actually do anything to which her fiancé could object without looking absurd. Confound him!
Then he remembered that Steen was her true fiancé. He could gather her into his arms without having to release her just when he wanted to explore further…
‘You’re knocking it back a bit, aren’t you?’ Ferdy muttered in his ear.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You don’t usually drink so much. I hope it’s going to be Seth who ferries us over tonight. I’m not sure how steady your hand is.’
‘Seth’s gone to bed,’ Jarvis growled. ‘You’ll have to take your chance with me.’
‘And leave your bride entertaining another man?’ Ferdy observed with a grin.
‘You can swim if you like,’ Jarvis told him in a low, savage voice.
‘Either way I think it’s time we were going,’ Ferdy said.
It took Jarvis half an hour to deliver his guests on the shore and return with the boat. Meryl and Benedict were nowhere to be seen. Climbing the stairs in search of them, Jarvis heard voices coming from behind Meryl’s door, and a moment later the door opened and Benedict emerged, closing it behind him.
‘She had a headache and asked you to forgive her for not waiting for you,’ he said.
‘Certainly. Will you have a nightcap with me, Mr Steen?’
They passed into Jarvis’s room. Benedict was still holding his empty glass, which Jarvis filled, and they sat and drank together with an appearance of comradeship, although only one of them was at ease.
‘Who’d have thought it would end like this, eh?’ Benedict said complacently.
‘Anyone who knew Meryl, I imagine. You must know her well. Why did you let her take such a risk?’
‘She likes risk. Thrives on it. Think how dull her life must be-all that money-no challenges.’
Jarvis’s hand closed tightly around the neck of the bottle-it was either that or Benedict’s neck.
‘Doesn’t it occur to you that you should be taking care of her?’ he asked through gritted teeth.
‘You mean tell her what she can and can’t do? She doesn’t take kindly to people who do that. And she somehow ends up doing things her way.’
Jarvis was about to protest when he realised that this was exactly what was happening. He had decided that he would not marry Meryl Winters. But she had decided that he would. And soon they would be married, all to suit the convenience of this insolent sponger who showed no appreciation of the woman who loved him, or the sacrifice she was making for him.
His dislike of Benedict was so strong that he could almost taste it, and it drove the next words out of his mouth.
‘Since you’re going to be here for a while, Mr Steen, why don’t you invite your wife to join you?’
Benedict’s eyes, so brilliant a moment before, went dead.
‘You’re very kind,’ he said in a flat voice, ‘but I’m afraid that won’t be possible.’
‘Why not? She’d be very welcome. Call her.’
If he’d doubted the other man’s intentions he knew better now. At this mention of an inconvenient wife Benedict gave him a look of sheer malevolence. ‘Mrs Steen is busy arranging our divorce,’ he said flatly. ‘How about a top-up?’
He held out his glass and Jarvis filled it. And filled it. And filled it.
‘Your friend drank himself legless,’ he observed to Meryl next morning. ‘I had to help him to bed.’
‘Poor Benedict, he doesn’t hold his drink well. Never did. Still, there’s nothing like booze for a little male bonding. I expect you two understand each other perfectly now.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Jarvis said grimly. ‘We do that all right.’
Soon everyone knew that things had changed. Hannah hired an army of domestics to prepare the castle for guests. Workmen flooded in, armed with hammers and nails. It was a makeshift job for the moment. The major repairs would have to wait until after the wedding.
Inch by inch Larne Castle resumed some of its former glory. Floors and furniture gleamed with polish, doors and windows no longer rattled. As Jarvis saw his home beginning to look loved again he found that he could relax, and even begin to think of happiness as something possible.
A package arrived from New York which he guessed was from Larry. Knowing she was upstairs, he took it up to her. Her bedroom door was slightly ajar and he ventured to look in without knocking. The next moment he wished he hadn’t.
Meryl stood by the window dressed only in wispy bra and panties. In the first stunned moment Jarvis took in every detail, the delicate lace of her matching underwear, and how little of it there seemed to be. He saw too the sweet curves of her slim, nearly naked figure, and how exactly it matched his haunting memories. But most of all he observed, with displeasure, that Benedict Steen was standing with his arms about her waist, carefully adjusting a tape measure.
They looked up at him, neither of them surprised or disconcerted. Meryl smiled. ‘Benedict’s just taking final measurements for my dress,’ she said.
‘Perhaps, when you’re free, we could talk,’ Jarvis said frostily.
‘You’d better go, honey,’ Meryl said.
‘Are you going to be all right?’ Benedict asked, watching Jarvis’s face warily.
‘Don’t be silly, of course I’ll be all right,’ she said cheerfully.
Benedict got out fast. The other two regarded each other, condemnation on one face, ironic defiance on the other.