Singing in the Wilderness

by Isobel Chace

  ‘Stephanie!’

  She didn’t answer. It was too late for him to win her round with a few well-chosen words. Did he think she didn’t know where he had been?

  He came over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, looking down at her in the darkness. She shut her eyes so tightly that they ached and clenched her fists beneath the bedclothes. She would not give in to him now, she would not! She wished she had drawn the curtains to keep out the moonlight, but she liked to sleep with them drawn back, to watch the clouds scudding across the moonlit sky, or to count the stars as they twinkled against a black velvet backdrop. Only now the moon was shining full on her face and she knew that he could see her almost as clearly as if it had been daylight. She felt very naked and vulnerable before his gaze.

  He eased the bedclothes over her shoulders and pushed her hair back from her face. ‘Tears, Stephanie? I might have known that you’d take it personally, but I had to go, honey. It was important that it should all be set up tonight!’

  And she wasn’t important? She screwed her eyes up more tightly and willed herself not to let loose the whimper that threatened to betray her wakefulness. His hand found the nape of her neck and tightened round it, giving her an angry little shake.

  ‘I’ve a damned good mind to carry you off to my bed whether you want it or not! You’re no more asleep than I am, and if you’re feeling miserable, it’s your own fault for having so little faith in me! Now, are you going to sit up and discuss it like a civilised human being, or not?’

  ‘Not!’ It came out like an explosion and she turned her face into her pillow, no longer making any effort to hide the sobs that shook her.

  ‘Why not?’ His voice was tough and austere and sounded as though he meant to have an answer.

  ‘You know why not!’ By contrast, she thought she sounded timid and unsure of herself, and she thought how extremely unfair it was that being in the right didn’t help her at all when it came to taking up arms against him.

  ‘Do I?’ he said grimly. ‘As your grievance is entirely in your own imagination, how can I possibly know what you’ve dreamed up to make yourself miserable about? Okay, neither of us wanted me to have to go out tonight, but I hadn’t any choice, so what do you expect me to do about it?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nothing?’ He reached forward and turned on the bedside light, taking in her tear-stained face without comment. ‘I guess you don’t know me very well if you think I’m the kind of man who gives way to his wife’s moods. If you want to throw a tantrum, go ahead and throw it, but don’t expect me to go round walking on eggshells to keep you sweet. I won’t do it!’

  ‘It’s not a mood!’ she protested. ‘I was tired and I came to bed, and I want to be left alone!’

  ‘And what about what I want?’

  She licked her lips, a little afraid of him. ‘It’s late,’ she pointed out on a quavering note. ‘And we have to make an early start tomorrow.’

  ‘True. Was that any reason not to share my bed?’

  She tried not to look at him, pleating the edge of the sheet between her fingers and then pulling it out straight again. ‘I changed my mind,’ she whispered. ‘You said you wouldn’t—not until I was ready—’

  ‘You’re ready!’ he retorted. ‘I wish I could get it out of my head that you’re trying to teach me a lesson. Are you, Stephanie?’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s just that everything happened so quickly!’ she blurted out. ‘I need time to catch up with myself! Is that so much to ask?’ She still avoided his eyes, humiliated that she couldn’t bring herself to face him with the truth. Surely, any wife would be within her rights to resent her husband rushing off to be with another woman on their wedding night. She wasn’t being unreasonable by refusing to welcome him back with open arms! ‘Please, Cas,’ she added on a note that made her burn with shame at her craven self, ‘don’t be angry with me!’

  ‘If I’m angry, it’s because I wanted you to be happy,’ he said with wry self-mockery. ‘And I think I could make you happy too, but I’ve never taken a woman yet without her consent and I’m not going to start with my wife!’ He switched off the light and then switched it on again. ‘But I don’t see why I should deny myself the privilege of kissing you goodnight, do you?’

  She gave him a prickly look, tensing up, and somehow managing to look very young and insecure. ‘I can’t stop you,’ she said.

  He put his hands underneath her pillows, lifting them and her into his arms. For a long moment he looked deep into her clouded eyes and then he covered her mouth with his, parting her lips with a masterful ease that made a nonsense of her determination to stand out against him. Her heart quickened within her, beating in unison with his, and she found it more and more difficult not to give him the response he was seeking. She withstood the first kiss, but his seeking hands undermined her concentration, turning her body into a traitor to her cause and, at the second kiss, she made no effort to resist him at all, clinging to him and kissing him back with all the fervour of which she was capable.

  He released her gently, tracing the outline of her mouth with his finger. ‘I hadn’t intended it as such,’ he murmured, ‘but let that be a lesson to you, my darling. There’s such a thing as cutting off your nose to spite your face.’

  Her mouth felt dry with shock. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Think about it!’ he advised her. He bent forward and kissed her anxious eyes, snapping out the light at the same moment. ‘Perhaps your need is greater than mine. If I’m prepared to accept you as you are, can’t you do the same for me?’

  Taking second place to Amber, she supposed. Her mind revolted at the thought, but she had to admit that her body wasn’t prepared to be so particular. It was becoming increasingly hard to deny the strong physical attraction that lay between them, and she had to remind herself again and again that that could never be enough for her.

  ‘I do have some pride,’ she sniffed.

  ‘What as? As a woman? As a wife?’

  ‘As a person,’ she insisted.

  ‘Great! That’ll really set you up in life!’

  His contempt seared her spirits. ‘It’s better than having no pride at all! One can’t grasp at everything that comes one’s way because it looks attractive at that particular moment. There’s more to life than candyfloss!’

  His features relaxed into a smile. ‘Untidy stuff, candyfloss,’ he observed. ‘Still, it’s easier to put in its place than husbands!’

  She was so relieved that he was back to normal that her courage surged back into her. ‘Or wives either!’ she retorted.

  ‘But then I can stand a bit of clutter,’ he answered her. ‘I’ll never want to put you away on the shelf and dust you down every now and then—’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that to you either!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘I just thought I’d warn you against it in case it should ever cross your mind,’ he said dryly. ‘I intend to be a great deal more than an ornament in your life. Understand?’

  She blinked, rather less sure of herself. ‘Cas, I want to know you better before—’

  ‘No, you don’t, honey. We both know what you want, but, just for tonight, we’ll play it your way and I’ll leave you alone to work things out by yourself. I’m not sure I’m doing you much of a favour, but I’m tired too and in no mood for long preliminaries either. We’d better get some sleep. Goodnight, Stephanie.’

  She knew she wouldn’t sleep a wink if he left her now. ‘I won’t feel any different tomorrow!’ She cast him a swift look through her eyelashes. ‘I’ll still want more time!’

  ‘Goodnight, Stephanie!’

  ‘Don’t you care?’ she shot at him.

  ‘Not much. Tomorrow we’re going to do things my way, however much time you think you want—or claim you do! That’ll give you something to dream about tonight!’

  His arrogance took her breath away. Her mouth fell open and she stared up at him. ‘Even if—if I hate you?’

  ‘
You’ll have to persuade me of that first, and you’ll have quite a job to do that. What you need, young lady, is a firm hand, and I’m just the man to give it to you! Who has a better right than your husband?’

  ‘Cas—’

  ‘Goodnight, Stephanie.’

  ‘Goodnight, Cas,’ she answered meekly. She sat up, hugging her knees through the bedding, wanting she knew not what. ‘I’m sorry,’ she added.

  He ran his fingers through her hair, rubbing her scalp with a friendly hand. ‘Sleep well, sweetheart. Tomorrow is another day, and it’ll all be there waiting for us. I’m sorry too. Sorry I had to go out and leave you on your own, and sorry that I haven’t yet gained your trust sufficiently for you to know that I’d never willingly hurt you.’ He bent his head and kissed her cheek, preventing her from smoothing down her hair by the simple expedient of catching her hand in his. ‘What a pretty little thing you are!’

  She was inordinately pleased that he should think so even if it wasn’t altogether true. Beside Amber, she knew she looked ordinary and colourless, but it didn’t stop her wanting to be beautiful to him. She reached up and returned his kiss, giving him a quick hug as she did so. And then he was gone and she was left with only the memory of his tall form leaning over her and the feel of his lips on hers. Tomorrow, she repeated to herself like a charm; tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow!

  Rather to her surprise, Stephanie went to sleep almost immediately and the sun was already high in the sky when she opened her eyes and thought with joy that this was the day that she was going on tour with Cas.

  The memory of how she had left the kitchen brought her swiftly out of bed and, throwing on her bathrobe, she crept through the flat in an agony lest she should awaken her husband before she was ready for him. The kitchen was every bit as bad as she remembered it to be, but the sight of the caviare and the pancakes she had made the night before aroused her appetite and she began to feel quite hungry. The mixture was probably all the better for having been allowed to stand overnight, and after only a moment’s hesitation she lit the light under the heavy iron pan and set about making more pancakes for their breakfast.

  She had barely finished when she heard a thud in the living room.

  ‘Cas?’

  He appeared, yawning, in the doorway. He looked different for a moment and then she realised it was because he hadn’t shaved. She could hardly take her eyes off the shadow round his chin. She wondered what it would feel like against her face and coloured in case he should guess what she was thinking.

  His eyes were the same, though—very blue and full of laughter. ‘Some breakfast!’ he teased her.

  ‘The caviare might not keep,’ she defended herself. ‘I’ve left the coffee for you to make, if—if you don’t mind?’

  ‘A fair division of labour!’ He helped himself to a pancake, poured some hot butter on to it, smothered it with caviare, and topped the lot off with some cream. ‘Some breakfast!’ he said again.

  Cas made the coffee with a minimum of effort, watching at the same time the neat way she served herself with the pancakes, cutting them into four equal pieces and transferring the quarters systematically to her mouth.

  ‘Try one with a blob of cream,’ he recommended.

  She did so, guessing by his smile that he was waiting for her to make a mess of it and drop it down her front. When she had successfully eaten two pancakes smothered in caviare and cream without accident, she allowed herself a brief look of triumph in his direction and was surprised by the loving gleam in his blue eyes. She put her spoon and fork down on her plate with a little clatter and, breathing rather more heavily than usual, she collected up the dirty dishes and plunged them into the sink, turning on the taps as she did so. The water shot into the plastic bowl, hit one of the plates and showered upwards into her face.

  ‘Oh, damn!’ she said.

  Cas put his hands on her shoulders, turned her round to face him, and mopped her up with a handy tea-towel. He was trying hard not to laugh at her, but she could feel it in the tremor in his hands. He was so close to her and yet so far away!

  ‘What a pity we have to go,’ he said.

  Her heart missed a beat and then raced like a mad thing within her. Perhaps he wasn’t as far away as she had thought. She brushed down the front of her shirt with her hands, her expression one of delicate distaste as she felt the dampness that the water had left. And then she could bear the space between them no longer. She turned into his arms, flinging her own about his neck.

  ‘Oh, Cas, you haven’t shaved and you feel horrid!’

  Scratchy, he agreed solemnly. ‘You don’t fancy me with a beard?’

  She fancied him any way at all. ‘If it grows quickly,’ she murmured against his neck. ‘I don’t want to have permanent gravel rash!’

  He held her away from him, looking down at her, his eyebrows raised. ‘Is there any danger of that?’

  She bit her lip. She had pleaded with him that she wanted time and now he was forcing her to admit to herself, even more than to him, that that had been an excuse to cover the jealousy she felt for Amber.

  ‘I want to come first—’

  ‘Honey, I married you. Isn’t that enough for you?’

  She nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears. ‘But I’d sooner you shaved before you kissed me again,’ she tried to joke.

  ‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ he drawled. ‘Are you packed and ready to go? Because if so, I’ll leave you to finish up in here while I get my own things together.’

  Stephanie was conscientious about leaving the apartment as she wanted to find it. There was not a thing left out of place. She even swilled out the drying-up cloths and left them spread over the draining board to dry. She was particular, too, about the few garments she was taking with her, folding them with inordinate care so that they wouldn’t crush in the suitcase.

  Cas, she noticed, had a totally different method of packing. He gathered everything he thought he would need in a pile on his bed, and then stuffed it bodily into the bag he had at his feet, zipping it shut with impatient fingers. In future, Stephanie decided, she would do his packing for him. Yet she hadn’t noticed that he went round in crushed shirts and baggy trousers, so perhaps there was more method in his system than she had allowed for. Perhaps he looked more careless than he actually was.

  He picked up both cases and carried them out to the waiting Range Rover. Stephanie locked and checked the door, following him out more slowly, clasping the keys in her hand ready to give them back to him. But when she approached the Range Rover, she saw that there was a third person included on the trip, a young Iranian in a Chinese-looking hat, who was already installed behind the wheel of the vehicle.

  ‘This is Idries,’ Cas introduced them. ‘He’s coming along to translate for me and to share the driving. Idries, this is my wife.’

  The young man didn’t quite look her in the face, but he held out his hand to her and smiled, showing very white teeth against the brown tan of his skin.

  ‘I drove your father sometimes, madame,’ he said.

  She looked at him more closely, but she didn’t recognise him as being one of the drivers her father had usually used. However, she smiled back at him and tried to look pleased that he knew who she was. She made a move towards the Range Rover, meaning to give Cas the window seat, but he was before her, sitting firmly between her and Idries.

  ‘But you need the extra room for your feet,’ she murmured uncomfortably.

  He grinned at her. ‘I can always spread them out a little in your direction. You can sit in the centre seat when I’m driving.’

  She gave him an uncertain smile, a little surprised by his attitude. She got in beside him and studied her hands with an interest she was far from feeling while she made up her mind if it was Idries’s driving he didn’t trust, or if he thought she would encourage the young man to be more familiar than he liked. The possibility that he might be a little jealous of her was new to her and she hugged the thought to her, hoping
that she wasn’t deceiving herself.

  ‘I’d hardly flirt with Idries in front of you,’ she said, feeling her way carefully in case she had got it all wrong and he wasn’t jealous of her at all.

  ‘It’s better to be sure than sorry,’ he retorted dryly. ‘You’ve got your hands full relating to me just now. That’s excitement enough for you until you can bring yourself to trust me a little bit more than you do now.’

  She opened her eyes very wide. ‘Don’t you trust me?’ she asked him.

  ‘Can I?’

  The bubble of mirth in her middle died away. ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘I hope so. An awful lot depends on it.’ He ran his finger down her nose, smiling. ‘But you never know with a woman,’ he teased her. ‘They can’t resist trying out their skills on anyone handy, and Idries looks the susceptible type!’

  ‘I’ve never heard them described as skills before,’ Stephanie muttered, anxious not to sound as stuffy as she felt. ‘And if you must know, I’m not given to flirting.’

  He looked amused. ‘Ah, but it’s when one has discovered a new skill that one most wants to try it out!’ he mocked her. ‘If you’re wise, little one, you’ll restrict yourself to experimenting with me. Is it a bargain?’

  She frowned at him thoughtfully. ‘What a funny idea you have about women!’

  His smile flashed out. ‘Haven’t I, though? But I think I understand them well enough to be able to handle my wife without any help from outsiders, male or female. As you’ll find out, if you cross me too often!’

  She wasn’t sure if he was serious or not, but she thought it safer not to find out. She sat up very straight in her seat, staring out of the window at the busy street scene outside.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked as Idries started up the engine.

  ‘I have to call by the office first—’

  ‘Good. I’ll come in too. I want to thank Fatemeh—’

  ‘No, love, I’d prefer you to wait outside. I’ll send Fatemeh outside to have a gossip with you in the car. Tell her you want to buy some gaz for the journey, you may be glad to have something to suck during the heat of the day.’