Читать книгу His Rags-to-Riches Bride: Innocent on Her Wedding Night / Housekeeper at His Beck and Call / The Australian's Housekeeper Bride - Сара Крейвен, Susan Stephens - Страница 12

SO, WHY did I go on with it, as if everything was all right? Laine asked herself wearily. Because our engagement was a pretty muted affair by anyone’s standards. Even with my inexperience I could see that.

Not that he’d been there very much, she reminded herself. And when he had come to see her he’d never stayed at the house, but made Langbow Manor his base again. And, though she’d dined with him there, it had always been in the restaurant. He’d never once suggested that they should be alone together in his suite. And she had been too shy to ask. To tell him how desperately she wanted to go into his arms—to belong to him completely.

‘So, where’s your ardent lover this weekend?’ her mother had once asked witheringly. ‘Conspicuous by his absence yet again.’

‘Wordwide are involved in a takeover bid for a German magazine company,’ Laine had said quietly. ‘It’s—thrown up some problems, and he needs to be there.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Besides, we have the rest of our lives to be together.’

‘If you say so,’ Angela had retorted with a shrug, and left Laine to her own devices.

But even when absent Daniel had been as good as his word on other matters. All the arrangements for the wedding had been in place without fuss or argument, and Laine had found that a bank account had been opened for her, containing more money than she could ever envisage spending.

In addition, a Mrs Goodman had been installed as temporary housekeeper, and had listened patiently to Angela’s orders and counter-orders, then gone her own briskly efficient way.

And Laine had received a phone call from a local driving school, requesting her to obtain a provisional licence as a course of lessons had been booked for her.

Everything I could have wished for, she thought. Except one—the most important—the most crucial of all. The knowledge of his true feelings where I was concerned.

So why didn’t I simply face up to the problem—ask him if he loved me?

Well, she told herself, she knew the answer to that. She’d loved him, and wanted him more than anything in the world. And Daniel’s own restraint—those brief, gentle kisses and fleeting caresses which aroused but did not satisfy—had only served to intensify her longing to fever-pitch.

It was as well, she thought, that she’d had so much to do, or she might have gone a little crazy. As a result, she had just allowed herself to be carried forward on the non-stop tide of activity, and tried not to think too much.

One of her tasks had been to sort through her books and other personal possessions, and transfer those she wished to keep to Daniel’s London flat—something had made the idea of being his wife seem slightly more real. That and the exquisite ruby and diamond cluster that they’d both spotted at the same moment from the myriad brought out for their inspection, smiling at each other and saying in unison, ‘That’s the one.’

The tangible evidence that he truly was going to marry her, she’d often thought, touching it gently.

She’d tried to be ruthless and only take the things that really mattered into her new life, giving the rest to the local charity shop. Nothing could have stayed where it was, anyway, because Abbotsbrook had been sold, and the buyer wanted vacant possession almost immediately.

‘It’s going to be a very expensive care home,’ she’d told Daniel on one of the occasions when they were dining together.

‘Apparently he has a chain of them.’

‘You don’t approve?’

Laine sighed. ‘It’s sold, and my mother is pleased, which has to be a good thing. But I think I always hoped that it would go on being a real home—for a family. That there’d be other children growing up there who’d love it as I did.’

He was silent for a moment. ‘Are your memories of it really so happy? I didn’t realise.’

‘Not all,’ she said. ‘But a great many of them.’ And most of them to do with you, my love—my love …

She forced a smile. ‘Anyway, it’s gone, and as far as Mother’s concerned it’s hasta la vista.’

‘I hope she got a good price,’ Daniel commented caustically. ‘She’ll need it to afford the upkeep on the glamorous Mr Tanfield’s cosmetic dentistry, quite apart from anything else.’

Laine nearly choked on a mouthful of turbot. ‘His smile is—dazzling,’ she admitted, trying not to giggle. ‘But they do seem happy together, I suppose.’

‘Heart-warming,’ Daniel said dryly. ‘And probably temporary. Has she considered drawing up a pre-nuptial agreement?’

Laine looked down at her plate, aware she was flushing. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t think so.’ But, by a horrible coincidence, that was the exact advice she gave me last night—and one of the reasons we’re barely on speaking terms right now. The other being she’s invited Candida to the wedding.

‘And if he dumps you when the novelty wears off—what then?’ Angela had demanded. ‘He’s a very rich man, my dear—a multimillionaire, no less. He can afford to pay for his pleasures.’

‘If he dumps me,’ Laine had replied, wincing at the crudity, ‘then no amount of money could ever make things better, believe me.’

What neither she nor her mother had foreseen, of course, was that she would be the one who walked away.

It rained on her wedding morning, but the skies brightened just before she set off to the church, and Celia, who was helping her get ready, told her it was a good omen—the best.

‘Do you know where you’re going on honeymoon?’ she asked. ‘Or is it a surprise?’

‘We can’t go too far away while this takeover business is still simmering.’ Laine examined herself from all angles in the mirror, making sure the expensively demure white satin suit she’d chosen hadn’t developed any unsightly wrinkles or bulges overnight. ‘So Daniel’s rented us some secluded hideaway in the depths of the countryside.’

‘Good God,’ Celia said blankly. ‘Does it have plumbing?’

Laine laughed. ‘I think so—plus a swimming pool, so it can’t be too primitive.’ Although a shed in someone’s garden would do, as long as I was with him….

‘And when things settle down at Wordwide he says he’ll take me somewhere glamorous and romantic to make up for it,’ she added.

‘He hasn’t a brother, by any chance?’ Celia’s eyes were dancing. ‘Or even a cousin by marriage?’

‘Sorry, love.’ Laine grinned back at her. ‘But I gather the best man’s unattached—just.’

Celia gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Then I’ll simply have to lower my sights.’ She wandered across to Laine’s suitcase, open on the bed, and ran a reverent hand over the folds of the delicate white voile nightgown lying on top.

‘Wow,’ she said. ‘Gorgeous, but a total waste of money.’

Laine concentrated fiercely on transferring her engagement ring to her other hand. ‘Oh, I thought I’d better have one—in case of fire.’

There was a silence, then Celia said, very gently, ‘Lainie—there’s nothing to worry about, truly.’

Laine looked at her, stricken. ‘Oh, God, is it so obvious?’

‘And if it is—so what?’ Celia returned robustly. ‘You bypass the frogs and get to kiss your prince first time around, that’s all.’ She paused. ‘Although, to be honest, I find it hard to figure how the pair of you have managed to keep your hands off each other.’

Laine’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Sometimes I wonder too.’ She picked up her bouquet of white roses and freesias and walked to the door. ‘It’s time we were going.’

Jamie was waiting for her in the hall. ‘Hey, you look pretty good,’ he informed her with brotherly candour. ‘The Lily Maid personified. Maybe Dan isn’t completely off his head after all.’

Laine gasped. ‘What the hell do you mean by that?’

‘Just that he’s never seemed the marrying type,’ Jamie retorted as he helped her into the back of the waiting car. ‘And I bet the news went down like a lead balloon with Ma, although she couldn’t really have thought—’ He broke off abruptly, then started on a different tack. ‘Did you know she insisted we invite that Tanfield bloke to Dan’s stag night? Guy, the best man, reckons the slimy git wears a toupée, and if we’d had a bit more to drink we might have found out,’ he added, grinning. ‘But it turned out to be a pretty sober affair in the end. I guess my future brother-in-law didn’t want a serious hangover affecting his bridal performance.’

‘It would have to be more than serious to last for twenty-four hours.’ Laine spoke lightly, trying to hide her embarrassment.

Jamie gave her a derisive look. ‘If he intends to wait that long. There’s no law saying sex can only take place under cover of darkness, sister dear. As you may well find out before too long.’

Laine said quietly, ‘Could we change the subject, please?’

‘Absolutely,’ he agreed, unabashed. ‘Because it so happens I want a quiet word with you about a business matter.’

She gasped. ‘On the way to church?’

‘Why not? It’s good news, Lainie. The Beaumonts have decided to retire to Portugal—and they’ve given notice on the flat. It’ll be empty by the end of the month, and I’d like to move in there, but as it belongs to you too I have to get your written consent.’

He gave her an anxious look. ‘You won’t make waves, will you? After all, it’s not as if you’ll ever need the place yourself.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I won’t. And it’s fine with me. Send me whatever I need to sign when I come back from honeymoon.’

There were more people at the service than she’d expected, and not all of them wishing her well, she thought with a pang as she stood beside Daniel at the altar. But the ceremony itself, with its calm traditional words, was a comfort and a reassurance. She heard Daniel promise to love her until death, and vowed she would do the same. And the warmth of his mouth on hers became a benediction that made her tremble inside.

As they sat together in the back of the car returning them to Abbotsbrook for the brief reception, Daniel drew her close against him, his lips caressing her hair. He said softly, a smile in his voice, ‘Well, Mrs Flynn. Here we are at last.’

And Laine, staring down at her wedding ring, felt joy unfurl inside her like the buds on a springtime tree.

As soon as the toasts had been drunk and the cake cut, she slipped away to change. Celia, she saw with amusement, was flirting with the best man, and clearly did not wish to be disturbed.

But, Laine thought, I’d rather be on my own too—for these last moments in my old home before I leave it for ever as Dan’s wife.

She was in bra and briefs, just stepping into the pale yellow shift she planned to wear for the journey, when there was a knock on the door.

Daniel, she thought, her heart leaping, and called, ‘Come in.’

But when she saw her visitor she felt sick with disappointment.

‘Candida,’ she said. ‘What a surprise.’

‘It’s been a pretty surprising day all round,’ the older girl returned. She walked across the room, and sat down without invitation, on the edge of the bed, next to the case which, thankfully, Laine had just closed. ‘So Daniel actually went through with it. I’m amazed.’

Laine drew up her dress, sliding her arms into the brief cap sleeves, then began to fasten the long line of small fabric-covered buttons which closed its front.

She said quietly, ‘If you’ve come here to be unpleasant, I’d prefer you to leave.’

‘Oh, very dignified,’ Candida said mockingly. ‘The publishing tycoon’s lady to the life. He may not want to be married to you, but at least you’ll play the part—while it lasts.’

Laine walked to the door and opened it. ‘That’s quite enough,’ she said stonily. ‘Now, get out.’

‘When I’m good and ready. And only when I’ve finished saying what I came to say. So I suggest you come back and listen. I really do.

‘That’s better,’ she went on, as the younger girl slowly closed the door and went over to sit on her dressing stool. ‘You see, Elaine, I actually feel sorry for you. When Daniel said “I will” today, you must have thought you’d just won the major prize in life’s lottery.’

She smiled slowly. ‘But what you really heard, my poor child, was a man reluctantly stepping into the shoes of his dead friend. Steeling himself to accept responsibility for Simon’s hopeless and helpless little sister—just as he once promised.

‘A promise he made totally against his will, because he never believed he’d be called on to keep it. Because he was counting on Simon coming back and letting him off the hook.

‘Only Simon didn’t come back. Not for him—or anyone.’ Her voice took on a vicious note. ‘And suddenly Dan had you—round his neck like an albatross—weeping and wailing about the hand life had dealt you, with no qualifications and no prospects. Making him pity you all over again, and reminding him that he’d given his word he’d look after you.’

Laine said thickly, ‘I—don’t believe you.’

‘Of course not.’ Candida shrugged lightly. ‘And I don’t blame you. In your shoes I’d much rather persuade myself that Daniel had fallen in love with me. Except that his attentions haven’t been exactly marked since your engagement—or before it, for that matter.’

She gave a silvery laugh. ‘In fact I’d be most surprised to discover that you’re any more than just good friends. Although I’m sure Daniel will do his duty by you tonight.’

‘Duty?’ Laine lifted her chin disdainfully, trying to conceal the fact that her heart was thudding like a battering ram against her ribcage, and that she felt sick to her stomach with fright. ‘You imagine that’s all it will be?’

Candida regarded her calmly. ‘You still don’t believe me, do you? Would you like proof?’

No, thought Laine. I want you to disappear. I want the last five minutes never to have happened. I want the door to open all over again, and Daniel to come in and take me in his arms.

She sat and watched as Candida unfastened the clasp on her slim black bag and extracted a folded sheet of notepaper.

‘I’m afraid I found this among Simon’s things,’ she said. ‘Please believe it gives me no pleasure to show it to you.’

‘Then why are you doing so?’ Laine was thankful to see that her hand didn’t tremble as she took it.

‘Because you stand in grave danger of making a fool of yourself, and seriously embarrassing Daniel as well, and I’m sure you don’t want that. So it’s obviously preferable that you understand the terms of your marriage from the outset, and don’t ask for more than he can give.’

As soon as she unfolded the sheet Laine recognised Daniel’s handwriting. The letter began abruptly.

Si—I apologise about last night. I know we both said things we now regret. But being suddenly asked to accept responsibility for Laine’s welfare if you don’t make it back from Annapurna frankly knocked me sideways. As I told you, I don’t want that kind of involvement. Not any more. You know my reasons for this, and I’m sorry you objected to them, because they are not ever going to change.

However, I’ve thought things over since, and I concede you have valid reasons for being concerned about Laine, especially if you’re going to be absent for any length of time. Therefore, in spite of my personal reservations, I accept the obligation to take charge of her in your place, even though it’s a hellish burden as things are. But I realise there is probably no one else you can ask.

One more thing. Simon, man, this Annapurna trip sounds like really bad news. You clearly feel it, and I’m certain of it. I’m also sure it can’t be too late to back out, even now.

But, at the same time, I know that’s not your style, so all I can say is if you go, make bloody certain you come back safely, or you could wreck my life and Laine’s, as well as destroying your own. Just don’t do this to us all. Please. As ever, Dan.

Laine read it through, then read it again more slowly, until every line, every word, every syllable was etched into her aching brain. Never to be forgotten—or forgiven.

She raised her head and looked at the smiling face of the woman lounging on her bed, and she wanted to claw at that smile until the blood ran.

Instead she said, with a soft dignity she hadn’t known she possessed, ‘Thank you. Do—do you want it back?’

‘I don’t think so. It’s served its purpose, so you keep it.’ Candida uncoiled herself, rose, and walked to the door. ‘Poor Elaine,’ she said. ‘I’ve shattered your illusions, haven’t I? But surely that’s better coming from me than from Dan?

‘Besides, you’ve married the man you’re crazy about—and half a loaf is always preferable to no bread at all, or so they tell me. Just keep reminding yourself of that, and I’m sure everything will be fine.’

The door closed softly, and she was gone.

When she could move, Laine stood up and went across to her case. She opened it, slipped the folded letter into one of the side pockets, and zipped it away.

As if by hiding it she could somehow erase the memory of it too—of the stinging phrases that had brought her life crashing around her.

‘Hellish burden,’ she said aloud, trying the words on her tongue as she looked at herself in the mirror. Saw the ghost in the half-buttoned dress, with eyes like bottomless pits.

And thought, Oh God, what am I going to do? What can I do?

She had still found no answers to those questions some two hours later, when she arrived with Daniel at their honeymoon destination.

It was as if she’d become two people, she thought as she sat beside him in the car, looking at the flying countryside with unseeing eyes. One who smiled with the expected radiance of a new bride, who chatted and kissed people goodbye, then tossed her bouquet so that Celia caught it. And another secret person who waited numbly in some inner darkness and prayed for the pain to cease.

She could not remain in the marriage. That was one certainty to emerge from her silent soul searching. The other, more importantly, was that Daniel must never find out that she knew why he’d married her—must never realise that she’d seen that wretched letter, and the agonising truth it contained. That, at eighteen years old, her marriage was a myth and she herself simply an unwanted wife. An obligation and a responsibility that he’d been forced to acquire.

But, although she might know his secret, he could not be allowed to know hers, or she would die of humiliation.

Oh, why did I let him see that I dreaded going to Spain? she asked herself desperately. I should have pretended that it was an adventure—an ideal opportunity for me—and by doing so released him from the coercion of his promise to Simon.

‘You’re very quiet,’ Daniel observed suddenly, startling her from her confused and unhappy thoughts. ‘You’ve hardly said two words since we set off. Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine.’ When had she learned to be such an accomplished liar? ‘A little tired, maybe, after all the rushing about of the past few weeks, that’s all.’

‘I should have been around more.’ He was frowning slightly, his swift sideways glance at her concerned. ‘I let that damned takeover occupy too much of my time. But all that stops right here,’ he added softly. ‘From now on, I intend to concentrate solely on you, my sweet.’

Don’t call me that, she thought. Don’t look at me as if I matter. Above all—don’t be kind—because I can’t bear it. Not when I know that’s all there is …

‘I hope you like the cottage,’ he went on. ‘A couple called Jackson run the place for the owners—do all the cooking and cleaning, and look after the garden.

‘It sounds wonderful.’ A mechanical response, as if she’d been programmed.

And of course it was wonderful—’cottage’ being a total misnomer for the charming redbrick house rambling round three sides of a courtyard. The Jacksons, large, placid and clearly discreet, were waiting to welcome them, and to take their bags up to a large bedroom overlooking the rear garden.

The window was open, and Laine went straight to it, trying not to look as if she was deliberately ignoring the wide bed with its pretty patchwork coverlet and snowy linen. She knelt on the cushioned window seat, inhaling the scent of the flowers drifting up from below and touching with her fingertips the petals of the Gloire de Dijon rose that covered the adjacent wall.

‘Happy?’ Daniel spoke from behind her, his voice gentle.

‘Of course,’ she returned. ‘It’s beautiful.’ She turned, glancing round her. ‘Although there doesn’t seem to be a lot of cupboard space.’

‘My God,’ he said. ‘How much stuff have you brought?’ He waited a moment for her to respond to his teasing smile, but in vain. He added more slowly, ‘There’s another room across the passage. I can put my things in there, if you want. Give you more space.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Then perhaps we could have some tea?’

‘A delightful idea,’ Daniel said cordially. ‘And when, if ever, am I going to be allowed to kiss you? Let alone undo the buttons on that intriguing dress?’

She remembered Jamie’s casual comment. Thought how, only a few hours before. she would have gone with shy eagerness into his arms, yielding her mouth and her body to his possession. Now, she managed a nervous laugh. ‘Daniel—it’s broad daylight—the middle of the afternoon.’

‘As you wish,’ he said, after a pause. ‘After all, I’ve waited so long already that a few more hours won’t kill me.’ He moved away towards the door. ‘I’ll speak to Mrs Jackson about your tea, then go and unpack.’

Alone, Laine found she was staring at the bed as if hypnotised. The bed where Daniel would later perform his duties as her husband, with probable skill and enjoyment. Because he was a man, and she was new and available. And, as she’d learned from Celia and other more worldly-wise friends, where men were concerned sex and love were not necessarily part of the same equation.

For Daniel, she thought, it would be little more than a conditioned reflex, and she shivered.

I can’t let him touch me, and I can’t touch him … Otherwise I’ll be lost for ever—his creature, existing on whatever kindness he chooses to show me. Having to make believe that we have a real marriage, a union of minds as well as bodies.

She unpacked and put away her things, leaving the letter in its hiding place. She didn’t need to look at it again. Every bit of it was seared into her memory.

Downstairs, she drank her tea in the drawing room, and pretended to eat a scone, while Daniel, not pretending at all, read the financial pages of the daily paper with narrow-eyed attention.

Afterwards she went for a walk in the garden, Daniel having declined her stilted invitation to accompany her with equal politeness, and realised she was deliberately prolonging her stroll, lingering over every plant as if she was memorising it for an examination.

She also discovered the swimming pool, totally secluded in a high-walled garden, where espaliered fruit trees spread their branches over the elderly red brick. It was a warm and sheltered place, the sun still high enough to make a swim seem enticing, and for a moment she wistfully considered going back to the house and changing into her bikini.

It occurred to her, too, that if this was a real honeymoon, and Dan and she had found the pool together, he would have dealt swiftly with the buttons on her dress, laughing away her protests, and swimming costumes would have become entirely superfluous for them both. She turned away, stifling a sigh.

‘Mrs Jackson suggests dinner at eight,’ Daniel said when she got back to the house. ‘Does that fit in with your plans?’

She looked at him, startled. ‘I—I have no plans.’

‘No?’ There was faint irony in his voice. ‘My mistake.’

She hesitated. ‘Do we—dress for dinner?’

His brows lifted. ‘Isn’t that a little formal—for just the two of us?’

‘Yes, of course. I—I wasn’t thinking.’

He sent her an enigmatic look. ‘How I wish that were true,’ he said, and returned to the newspaper, and the crossword he was completing.

Laine was hungry, but she had to force herself to eat the delicious food Mrs Jackson provided—smoked trout, followed by lamb cutlets with new potatoes and tiny broad beans, with a creamy mousse made from fresh strawberries for dessert.

The meal was conducted mainly in silence, although Laine made an effort to speak whenever the Jacksons were in the room. But it was making conversation, she realised, rather than talking, and to judge by his sardonic expression Dan knew it too.

Coffee was served in the drawing room, but Laine declined the brandy they were offered.

‘Would you like to listen to some music?’ Dan asked when they were alone again. He nodded towards the shelves that flanked the fireplace. ‘There seems to be a fair selection.’

‘Thank you.’ She put down her empty cup. ‘But I’m tired. I think I’ll—go up. That is, if you don’t mind?’

‘Why should I?’ He smiled at her. ‘The idea has much to recommend it. But I think I’ll stay down here for a while. Finish my drink. Listen to a CD, perhaps.’ He paused. ‘What shall I pick, Laine? A sonata—or a whole symphony?’

She hesitated by the door. ‘I don’t know. It’s your choice.’

‘Is it?’ He sent her a reflective glance. ‘I wonder.’

As she went up the stairs she heard the first sombre chords of Elgar’s cello concerto following her. It was a favourite of hers, and she should have been listening to it with him, curled into the curve of his arm, sharing brandy from the same glass. Not going to her room alone.

She went quietly through the rituals of preparation, as if she was a real bride. Took a bath that was warm but not too hot. Rubbed her favourite lotion into her skin and applied a more intense version of its scent to her pulses, her throat and between her breasts. Brushed her hair until it hung to her shoulders like tawny silk. Put on the filmy high-waisted nightgown with its satin ribbon straps.

Then sat on the edge of the bed in the lamplight and waited to end her marriage.

She heard him come upstairs, and the breath caught in her throat, but he went into the other room, and it was twenty minutes before her own door finally opened and they confronted each other, husband and wife, in the shadowy room.

Dan closed the door quietly behind him and leaned back against its panels, looking at her in silence. He was barefoot, clearly wearing nothing but the white towelling robe, and for a moment everything she’d ever felt for him stormed into her consciousness, and she wanted him so badly that her resolve almost faltered. Almost, but not quite.