‘To warn me of what, Maggie? Hal is OK. Are you all right? What’s wrong?’ Sage got up, shifting Hal onto her narrow hip to hold on with one arm, leaving the other free to put around Maggie’s shoulders.
Hal clung onto Sage’s neck like a monkey.
‘Papa is here,’ he said gleefully. ‘Gammy called him a rude word.’
Sage looked at Maggie’s trembling mouth in horror.
‘Santiago is here? Right now?’ Sage asked, the strength leaving her legs so that she had to hastily sit down again. Maggie nodded apologetically. ‘Oh shit.’ Then remembering the faces at the drawing-room window, she repeated herself, exhaling in dread. ‘Shit.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Love seeketh not itself to please,nor for itself hath any care,but for another gives its ease,
and builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair.
William Blake,Songs of Innocence and of Experience
Hearing footsteps and voices coming along the passageway, Sage wondered if she could make a break for it. There wasn’t time – she was trapped in the kitchen. She started to manically bounce Hal about on her knee, her hands shaking and her teeth chattering like castanets.
Betsy came into the kitchen, her face drawn and pale. She walked over to Sage and Hal and stood protectively in front of them. Santiago Deverill followed her in and his dark eyes settled quickly upon Sage. A waft of his familiar aftershave washed over her, making her want to retch. He looked familiar and strange to Sage at the same time. His handsome face was tanned and he had put on a tailored blue suit that hung from all the right places, highlighting his lean, athletic body. He was also sporting a rather impressive black eye.Had he seen her with Rafe?If he had, there would be dire consequences. Although he had dabbled in extramarital affairs constantly, if Sage had ever even spoken to another man he had lost his head from jealousy. Squaring her shoulders andswallowing down the rising fear, she gave a brittle laugh and forced herself to speak.
‘What on earth has happened to you? Were you hoping to win me back by donning a matching bruise? I’m afraid the shiner you so kindly bestowed uponmehas faded now.’ Still clinging onto Hal for support, she was amazed that she managed to keep a nonchalant tone to her voice.
Santiago stared at Sage. He found his wife very much changed. Gone was the cowed, miserable girl who had been in Panama and instead here she was, strong and beautiful again, just like she had been when they first met. He paused, his mind trying to formulate a plan of best attack, but he was completely thrown off balance and was not sure how to proceed. Everyone was still. Betsy and Maggie were stony-faced and frozen to the spot; Betsy in front of Sage, and Maggie hovering by the larder door. He slyly tried to attack using a different phalanx.
‘I missed my son, Sage. Hal, won’t you come and give your father a hug?’ Santiago pleaded, bending down next to them, aware of all three women’s frosty eyes on him. Nobody moved.
Santiago looked pleadingly at Hal and for a moment, Sage thought the little boy was going to go to him. His charm was still a powerful force. Instead he looked up at his mother and placed his arms around her neck. You could have heard a pin drop in the normally loud and bustling kitchen. Hal shook his head decisively.
‘Wouldn’t you like to come home, Hal? We can go fishing and sailing, and – I’ll get you a pony!’ Santiago misguidedly threw impulsive, rash bribery at his son, desperately trying to regain some leverage.
Hal proudly proclaimed, ‘Gammy got me a pony. He’s called Custard. I want to go fish though, Mumma – can we?’
Sage had had enough. She felt clammy and shaky. AlthoughSantiago seemed slightly intimidated, here in the warm kitchen, she knew the menace that lurked beneath the surface was real.
‘I would like you to leave, Santiago.’ She felt unnerved under his returning, unwavering gaze.
‘I’m not going anywhere. I have come here in person to tell you that I will press charges if you are not willing to give our marriage another chance.’
‘You can’t press charges against me, I haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘Not against you. Against your father.’ Santiago smugly delivered his finishing blow. It did not, however, deliver the punch that he had hoped.
‘My father? I have no idea what you are talking about, Santiago. Please leave.’ Sage turned to Maggie, exasperated. She just wanted him to go. ‘Maggie, please can you run outside to the yard and tell my grandfather that his presence is immediately required in the kitchen?’ She looked at her in desperation, her mask of strength slipping for a moment.
‘Yes, Miss Sage,’ Maggie said, quickly pulling off her pinny and hanging it up neatly, before scuttling determinedly out of the room.
‘I will tell you what I’m talking about.’ Santiago walked over to one of the small orange trees next to the table and pulled off a delicate green leaf, crushing it between his thumb and first finger. ‘Your father came to visit me in Panama.’
Sage opened her mouth in disbelief and was about to say something but Santiago continued pompously.
‘No, let me talk. He walked into my mother’s house, uninvited. I saw what looked to me like a common vagabond standing by the pool. I went down to kick him out, upon which he announced that he was “Dickie Beaumont”. Then, for no apparent reason, he launched himself at me and broke my nose.’ Santiago peered from Betsy to Sage, as though waitingfor an outpouring of sympathy. None came. He continued, undeterred. ‘He could have killed me. He hit me backwards onto the stone next to the pool. Mother said I was knocked out for over five minutes. When I came round, your father had gone.’ He looked down at Sage calculatingly. He wanted her back. He would do anything to bring her to heel. ‘And I will not hesitate to take official action againsthimif you refuse to come home with me.’
Betsy shifted uneasily, crossing her arms in front of her like a sentinel. She did not know what the best course of action was and willed Dennis to hurry. Sage, utterly confused, just stared at Santiago, and Betsy realized that the mention of Dickie had completely destabilized her. Sage was rocking backwards and forwards in an attempt to soothe either herself or the child; which one, Betsy was not sure. Hearing footsteps at the back door, she heaved a sigh of relief.
‘What the devil is going on here?’ Dennis strode in, still wearing his hat and boots from the races, followed by Maggie. Santiago shot forward, holding his hand out. Dennis cut him dead and marched over to Sage, his eyes flashing with anger as he saw what a state his wife and granddaughter were in.
‘Betsy, take the child up for his bath. I will deal with this.’