The Jilted Bridegroom

CHAPTER TWO

THE woman standing at Griff's side in the photograph was his fiancée, Sandra Preston, the daughter of the owner of the group of newspapers Griff worked for. Griff had waited at the altar for his bride for almost an hour, finally having to accept that she had no intention of arriving.

My God, no wonder he had seemed so cynical and—and yes, slightly reckless today. Sarah wasn't to have known it at the time, but that cynicism, at least part of it, obviously came from the recent hurt he had suffered at the hands of his fiancée, and in such a humiliating way.

How could any woman leave a man standing at the altar in that way, knowing she had no intention of joining him there?

It said in the newspaper article that Sandra Preston had gone off to the family home in the Bahamas to ‘get away for a while and think', and the reporter wondered where the jilted bridegroom had disappeared to. In fact, the headline of the story was, ‘Where are you, Griff?'

Sarah knew exactly where the jilted bridegroom was. He was staying at the villa of another woman, a beautiful older woman who—– Bridegroom… wedding…? Virginia Major had gone to London to attend her brother's wedding!

Oh, dear God, Griff Morgan had to be that brother; it would be too much of a coincidence for it to be any other way.

Not that Sarah could exactly blame him for letting her go on assuming the couple were lovers rather than siblings; she had made that conclusion on only a few minutes’ acquaintance, and, after Griff's recent disillusionment, he must have just decided it was yet another kick in the teeth from a woman.

It was no good telling herself it wouldn't have happened at all if she hadn't been feeling so angry and frustrated by all the Forbes family. There was no excuse for the things she had said to Griff, for the assumption she had made; she had just been taking out her bad temper on him.

He must have been angry himself after the hurt and humiliation he had so recently been put through.

She put the newspaper down and stood up. ‘I—I think I'll just go out for a stroll,’ she announced to no one in particular, knowing that each member of this family was so self-engrossed that it wouldn't matter to any of them what she did—as long as none of them wanted something doing in her absence!

Clarissa looked up from the magazine she had been flicking through, a tall leggy redhead, still very beautiful, despite being in her early forties. ‘Don't be ridiculous, Sarah,’ she dismissed scathingly. ‘You'll get eaten alive by the bugs out there!'

‘Oh, but—–'

‘Besides,’ the other woman added firmly, ‘Roger and I are going down to Cannes shortly, so I'll need you to stay here with the children.'

There were the usual protests at being called a child from Ben and Sally.

Sarah felt like protesting herself. She had spent almost every evening of their stay with the children while Clarissa and Roger went off to one night-spot or another. The couple usually arrived back in the early hours of the morning, and then spent the following day sleeping it off in the sunshine.

Roger himself gave a groan of protest at this proposal, a much less social person, but the protest was quickly talked down by his much more dominating wife.

Sarah knew she might as well give up any idea of going for a walk tonight.

‘Never mind, Sarah,’ Ben grinned at her, as darkly good-looking as his company-director father, but with more of his mother's vivacity for life, ‘you can beat us at dominoes if you like!'

That was the extent of her own night-life on this holiday!

But she gave a weary nod of acceptance as Sally flounced off to her bedroom after requesting to go into Cannes with her parents and being firmly refused.

Loud music soon blared out from her bedroom, and Sarah gave an inward plea for it not to wake Stephen—he would be awake half the night once he was disturbed. And, consequently, so would she!

But her mind was far from on the game of dominoes, the subject of Griff Morgan uppermost in her thoughts. She felt so awful about the way she had behaved with him now. And what sort of woman was Sandra Preston to do such a thing to him?

‘Don't wait up for us, Sarah,’ Clarissa told her coyly when she emerged from changing a short time later, her black dress clinging to her revealingly, her hair loose about her shoulders, her make-up heavier than she wore during the day. ‘We expect to be late!’ she added suggestively, clinging to Roger's arm as the couple left the villa.

No, Sarah frowned, she refused to believe there could be another woman like Clarissa. And yet Sandra Preston's behaviour seemed vaguely familiar in its selfishness…

She couldn't escape thoughts of Griff Morgan the next day either, wishing the time away until she could go over to the neighbouring villa, but knowing she would have to see the Forbes family settled in relative peace about the pool before excusing herself to go to the Major villa and water the plants.

It seemed a little out of place to use the key Mrs Major had left for her now; if Griff Morgan was still here—and she sincerely hoped he was!—then it could be a little awkward for both of them if she just walked in on him as she had the last time.

This time he might not even have got to the stage of wrapping the towel about his waist!

Sarah decided it might be wiser—and safer!—to knock on the door and wait to see if he answered it, moving restlessly on the doorstep as she waited for a response to her knock.

There wasn't one, and her disappointment was acute as she dejectedly let herself in with her key, coming to a startled halt as Griffin Morgan walked down the hallway towards her, wearing only a pair of bathing trunks this time!

‘Come in, Sarah Williams,’ he invited huskily, as she still stood in the doorway. ‘I've been expecting you.'

She swallowed hard, watching dazedly as he walked past her, the slight thud of the door closing behind her somehow seeming final—and irrevocable.

‘Sorry I didn't answer the door when you knocked.’ He moved to stand in front of her now. ‘I was lounging by the pool, and by the time I had realised it was actually someone knocking at the door you had already let yourself in.'

‘I'm sorry about that. I—I still have the key.’ She held it up for him to see, very conscious of the lean length of his body in the hip-hugging black bathing trunks, a gold medallion of St Christopher nestling in the dark hair on his chest today—and how apt that was, considering the amount of travelling around the world this man did. ‘Perhaps I should give you the key back while you're staying here,’ she suggested abruptly. ‘I really shouldn't have just walked in here this morning, uninvited.'

Griff smiled as he moved his hand dismissively, his eyes the colour of warm golden honey, a strange contrast to his dark hair and tanned skin. ‘You thought I was out,’ he excused. ‘Besides, I quite like having you just walk in. Do you realise you're the first person I've seen, apart from the gardener, since I arrived here two days ago? And his conversation is limited,’ he added with a grimace. ‘I'm sure my French isn't that bad!'

Sarah smiled. ‘He's actually a little deaf.'

Griff's expression cleared. ‘And I thought he was ignoring me!’ He gave a soft laugh. ‘I'll have to remember to talk louder the next time I see him.'

She nodded. ‘He's really very nice.'

He quirked dark brows. ‘How about the coffee we didn't manage the last time you were here?'

‘I—–'

‘Don't refuse, Sarah,’ he cut in quickly. ‘I've been waiting for you to arrive all morning. I've already thrown away two pots of coffee that became stewed because I wasn't sure what time you would arrive today. Come on, Sarah, take pity on a fellow Brit, and accept,’ he encouraged huskily.

She was very much aware that it was loneliness that motivated the invitation, but nevertheless, when he put it like this, it was heady stuff. And there lay the danger.

‘Just to show you've forgiven me for yesterday,’ he added persuasively.

Her eyes widened at this. ‘That I've forgiven you? But you didn't do anything. I was the one who was offhand and pompous. I should never—–'

‘Offhand and pompous?’ Griff mocked lightly. ‘My, you are on a guilt trip, aren't you? So you found out about my fiasco of a wedding-day—–'

‘It was in all the English newspapers,’ she sympathised.

‘Finding out about that mess changes nothing.’ He gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. ‘I'm still the same person you were disgusted by yesterday.'

Sarah looked at him reprovingly. ‘Virginia Major is your sister.'

‘Ah, so you realised that too, did you?’ He nodded appreciatively. ‘Knowing my snobbish sister as I do, I don't think she would have been too thrilled by that other assumption you made about our relationship. Virginia is a great one for keeping up appearances,’ he added derisively. ‘Would have been scandalised that anyone could possibly think she would be involved in an affair. And especially one with a younger man!’ he drawled.

Sarah groaned. ‘I already feel badly enough about that!'

‘Then let's not discuss my dear sister any further,’ he dismissed easily. ‘Why don't you go and water her plants while I pour us both some coffee? We mustn't let the plants fade away and die or she'll blame me for that too; I've already upset her enough by being left at the altar. She just may “never recover from the embarrassment of it all”.’ He grimaced ruefully as he mimicked the haughty tones of his older sister.

But from the little Sarah had come to know of the other woman, before she'd left for England, she wasn't at all surprised that this was her attitude over Griff's being jilted in the way he had. He was making very light of his own humiliation, probably because to dwell on it would be far too painful. No one could come away from an experience like that unscathed, and from the depth and emotion of Griff's newspaper articles it was easy to tell he was a sensitive person.

‘Black, with one sugar,’ she told him lightly. ‘The coffee,’ she prompted as he instantly looked puzzled.

He gave a self-derisive laugh. ‘I thought it must be some type of food for the plants!'

‘Perhaps it is,’ Sarah derided, deciding to follow his lead and treat this second meeting as lightly as he seemed to want to. But no matter how he dismissed it she knew Sandra Preston's treatment of him had affected him deeply—as it would any man! She could see that by the strain about his eyes when he wasn't smiling that mischievous grin. ‘But I'm not about to try it!’ She gave a rueful laugh, following him through to the kitchen, filling up the brightly coloured watering-can before leaving him to pour the coffee.

The casual untidiness she had noticed in his bedroom yesterday seemed to have affected the rest of the villa today, things lying about haphazardly in every room, only Virginia Major's bedroom remaining exempt from the clutter. Now that she was aware of his real relationship to the other woman this perhaps wasn't so surprising! If she had actually bothered to think yesterday she would have realised that if he were Virginia Major's lover, as she had assumed he was, he would have been sharing the other woman's bedroom. Being sensible after the event wasn't really a lot of help to either of them!

Despite being siblings, Virginia Major and Griff Morgan were complete opposites, to look at and by nature. Virginia Major had a deep reserve about her, was extremely fastidious in all that she did, seeming to feel that everything had a place, and that it should be kept there. Griff was more open—probably considered that life was too short to be anything else—and his untidiness was all too obvious. Virginia was as tall as her brother, but instead of being dark like Griff she was a golden blonde, with slightly calculating blue eyes. Maybe, after all, Sarah could be forgiven for making such a wrong assumption about them!

She hummed softly to herself as she moved about the main bedroom, feeling a little more relaxed now that the initial awkwardness of seeing and talking to Griff again had passed. She accepted that he preferred to make light of the whole incident, because to dwell on it would only result in his having to go into further detail about Saturday, and he—–

She let out a terrified scream as she heard something hiss down near her feet, too terrified even to look down, just in case it was something horrific.

Oh, God…! Griff Morgan had been to some exotic locations during his career—lord knew what it was that had made that hissing noise. Although her imagination was running wild.

‘I heard you cry out.’ A worried-looking Griff came hurrying into the room, still holding the sugar bowl in his hand where he had rushed straight from the kitchen after hearing her scream. ‘What happened?’ His sharp-eyed gaze moved quickly but methodically about the room, returning to her with a puzzled frown when he could find nothing there that could have caused her obvious distress. ‘Sarah?’ he prompted in a puzzled voice.

She was still frozen to the spot, too frightened to move. ‘I—it's down there,’ she told him through stiff lips, so tense that she couldn't even nod her head in the direction of the floor.

Griff gave her a look that clearly doubted her sanity, although his barely perceptible shrug seemed to imply he was perfectly willing to humour her, for the moment at least. ‘What is?’ he prompted cajolingly.

His condescending tone made her eyes flash deeply green. ‘How should I know?’ she snapped fiercely. ‘I was just watering the plants near the bed here when I heard something hissing!'

Griff looked at her silently for several seconds before pursing his lips thoughtfully. ‘But you… didn't see what… hissed at you?’ His expression was bland.

‘No,’ she confirmed shakily. ‘Don't just stand there.’ Her body was so tense now that she felt as if she might snap. ‘Do something!'

‘Hold this, will you?’ He placed the sugar bowl into one of her shaking hands. ‘Perhaps it went under Virginia's bed.’ He went down on his hands and knees, lifting up the frilled ruffle to look underneath. ‘Yes, there he is.’ He nodded his satisfaction, sitting back on his heels to look at the long bare length of Sarah's legs, making her very conscious of the brief cut of her green shorts, her bare feet thrust into white sandals. ‘You weren't bitten?’ He frowned up at her.

‘No,’ she shook her head tautly. ‘I—is it… poisonous?'

‘No,’ Griff assured her. ‘But you're sure your skin wasn't broken?'

Oh, God, what was wrong? ‘No, it didn't actually touch me,’ she explained tightly.

‘Good.’ He nodded his satisfaction. ‘Not that I think Jasper has rabies,’ he dismissed. ‘But I wouldn't want to take the risk with you.’ He lifted the pink ruffle about the base of the bed again. ‘Come on out, Jasper,’ he persuaded. ‘Come on, no one is going to hurt you.'

Jasper? She had been frightened of a cat?

Griff picked up the metal-grey-coloured cat as he strode haughtily out from under the bed, looking for all the world as if he couldn't understand what all the fuss was about.

‘I telephoned the boarding kennels yesterday after you had left, to see how he was,’ Griff explained. ‘They said the old devil was pining, so I brought him home last night.'

So he might not have been at home if she had walked across last night anyway.

The tense atmosphere at the neighbouring villa must be making a nervous wreck of her. What had she thought was under the bed—a snake? God, if only the ground would open up and swallow her!

But there was never a miracle around when you needed one, and somehow she was going to have to get through this second embarrassment of making a fool of herself in front of this man. It was becoming too much of a habit!

She put a hand up to her burning cheeks. ‘I don't know what to say…'

Griff put the cat down—the ungrateful creature instantly going back under the bed—taking the sugar bowl from Sarah's unresisting fingers; she had forgotten she even held it! ‘Your coffee will be getting cold again,’ he realised with a sigh.

‘Did you really throw two pots away before I arrived?’ she asked breathlessly, following him back to the kitchen, grateful to him for not making too much of the fact that she had just made a complete idiot of herself again. A snake. God, how was she ever going to live down making such a mistake?

‘I don't lie, Sarah.’ Griff was suddenly serious. ‘I never have the time for it. I'm rarely in one place long enough to bother with subterfuge,’ he added in a harsh voice.

Maybe it was that very precariousness of his profession that had made Sandra Preston change her mind about committing herself to him after all. It could never be easy being married to a man you weren't sure was in danger or not.

But that didn't excuse the fact that the other woman had humiliated him in front of the whole world, making a much respected man a thing of ridicule and speculation.

‘A glass of water would do me just as well,’ she assured him as he poured away the cooling coffee and filled the mugs up again from the percolator.

‘I'm determined you're going to taste the “Morgan coffee” before you leave today,’ he said stubbornly. ‘Let's go and sit by the pool and drink it,’ he suggested as he picked up the two mugs. ‘You can always finish watering the plants later. Unless you're in a hurry to leave again today?’ He frowned at the thought, obviously not relishing the idea of being on his own again quite so soon, even if he had come here initially for solitude.

Clarissa would probably be hysterical when Sarah returned if she actually had to look after Stephen herself for too long, but for the moment Sarah just didn't care.

‘Not for a little while, anyway,’ she answered noncommittally.

He looked so pleased she was sparing the time to have coffee with him that Sarah instantly felt guilty for not initially showing more enthusiasm for the idea herself.