At eight o'clock precisely the Rolls was once more waiting to take her to the Park Lane flat and, feeling like Cinderella stepping into her coach, Laura took her place in the back. How like Nikolaos to send a car and a chauffeur and not come himself! Only a man supremely sure of himself could behave in such a way. And yet one could not call him conceited. Rather his arrogance sprang from a belief that he could do no wrong and that whatever he did, there was never any need to justify his actions.
Deep in thought she entered the penthouse and was shown into the drawing room. As on the night before it was lit by candles, and on a small table by the fire she noticed a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket. The room was empty and she walked across to the log fire. The flickering light cast a glow over her face and the slim line of her body so that, to the man coming through the doorway, each beautiful contour was outlined by flames. Hearing an indrawn breath behind her, she swung round.
"Good—good evening, Nikolaos."
"Good evening."
He made as if to walk towards her and then half across the room, changed his mind and moved to the table. "Will you have some champagne?"
She shook her head. "No thanks. I—er—" She hesitated and he turned and looked at her.
"Are you refusing champagne because you don't think we have anything to celebrate?" She looked at him without answering and even in the dim glow saw his face pale. "Never mind about the celebration," he said jerkily. "You can still have a drink." He uncorked the bottle and quickly tilted it against a glass.
She watched him, surprised to see that his hands were shaking so much that the liquid spilled on to the shining surface of the table. She felt an unwanted tenderness towards him, a tenderness which deepened as he came over to give her the glass and she saw the shine of moisture in his eyes. She held out her hand to take it from him and as if he were afraid to touch her fingers, he released the stem before she had caught hold of it. The glass fell to the carpet, champagne spilling down her dress.
"Damn!" he exclaimed. "I'm sorry."
"It was my fault." She looked round for her handbag and anticipating her, he took out a handkerchief.
"Let me wipe it for you."
Ineffectually he dabbed at her skirt, then straightened and looked at the top of her dress. "You'd better wipe that yourself."
Colour flamed into her cheeks and she took the handkerchief from him. This time their fingers touched and he drew a sharp breath.
"My God," he said. "You can't turn me down! I love you, Laura. I love you so much that…" He pulled her into his arms and for the second time since they had met his mouth was hard on hers. But now his kiss had a tenderness, an unexpected gentleness that took her by surprise and drove away her fears. Expert in everything he did, Nikolaos was a past master in the art of making love.
"You're so beautiful." He breathed the words against her lips. "I can't let you go. I love you… I want you… My love, my love…"
Deeply he kissed her and after the first moment of resistance she responded to him, caught in an emotion that drowned all rational thought.
"Nikolaos," she whispered. "Dear Nikolaos."
For a long while they remained together, their breath mingling, their mouths touching. On the mantelpiece a clock chimed the half hour and a log turned in the fire and fell on to the grate, sending up a shower of golden sparks.
Nikolaos stirred and began to speak, his voice husky and deep with emotion. "Always I have prided myself that I am in command of a situation. Yet just now, for the first time in my life, reason was swept aside and I was obsessed — maddened…" He touched his mouth to the pulse that throbbed in her throat. "I didn't mean to make love to you, Laura. I had made up my mind that if you refused me I would not plead with you. But when you're near me I no longer know what I am doing. To ask you to marry me was not an easy thing to do. Not because I did not think we would be happy but because it did not seem right that I should part you from my cousin and then try to take you for myself." His arms tightened around her. "But no other man can make you happy, Laura. Only me… me…"
"Nikolaos, please—"
"No, let me finish. I am not asking you to change your mind. I knew last night, although I would not admit it, that you were going to refuse me. Any other woman would have said yes because of my position, because of what I can give her. But you are different and it is this difference that I love. If I can't have you, I'll never marry anyone else."
Listening to him Laura had the feeling that she was trespassing on a dream. But it was not a dream: it was reality, the reality of a man's stark emotion. Again compassion stirred within her and she pulled his head closer, caressing the crisp hair, the thick eyebrows, the jutting nose.
"If it means so much to you," she said tremulously, "if you're willing to accept the little that I can offer you, then I — than I will marry you."
"Laura! Oh my dearest, I'll take you on any terms.." The deepset eyes were alight with joy. "I'll spend the rest of my life making you love me. I will show you what real passion and tenderness is. There is so much that I want to teach you if only you are willing to learn."
"I'll try," she said huskily. "Oh Nikolaos, I promise I'll try."
Laura's engagement to Nikolaos Dimar was a nine days' wonder at the airport and she was besieged by so many photographers and reporters that her own flight crew referred to her as "Miss Laura Monroe."
"I'm surprised you haven't resigned yet," Jock Mcintosh said as they sipped a cup of coffee in the galley of the T.M.A. aircraft droning its way across the Atlantic from London to New York.
"My fiance wanted me to," she admitted, "but we're not getting married till June and I wouldn't know what to do with myself."
"You're the first bride I've heard say that!" The steward's eyes twinkled. "You must be unique."
Laura smiled, for Nikolaos had used the very same words to her last night.
"I wish you'd give up work," he had pleaded. "I'm jealous of every moment we're apart."
"Even if I stopped working I wouldn't see much more of you," she had replied. "You're busy all day and you could hardly expect me to sit in the flat and wait for you to call."
"That's what I'll expect when we're married. I want to know that even when I'm away from you, you are always there, waiting for me." He leaned across the table. "If we were not in a restaurant I would take you in my arms."
She reddened. "Don't look at me like that. Other people are watching us."
"Other people will always watch us," he said arrogantly. "That is the penalty of being a Dimar." He signalled a waiter for more coffee and brandy, and leaned back in his chair.
Watching him, Laura thought dispassionately that he was the most distinguished looking man in the room. His rugged face with its jutting chin and nose, thick eyebrows and large, mobile mouth, was not handsome in the accepted sense, yet even with a Hollywood idol sitting directly behind him it was on Nikolaos that feminine eyes focused. Yet of all the women he could have had he had chosen her.
"If you really want me to stop work," she said quietly, "I will."
"Do you mean it?"
"Yes."
"Then you need not do so." He smiled triumphantly. "As long as I know you are willing to do as I ask, I am happy. But in any case I think you should give them notice soon so that they will have time to replace you."
"They can replace me a hundred times over! Since my engagement we've been flooded with applications from girls, all hoping to marry millionaires."
Nikolaos grinned, then seeing her serious expression raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"
"The usual doubts." she hesitated. "You don't think I'm marrying you for your money, do you?"
"What a question! You're the least money-conscious woman I know. But it will be fun showing you how to spend it. Sables, chinchilla, diamonds—"
"No, no!" she pleaded. "You make it sound indecent."
"Nothing is indecent between two people in love." He caught her hand beneath the table and squeezed i
t so tightly that she winced.
The buzzer sounded in the galley and with a start Laura returned to the present.
"It's Number Four," Jock said. "Mrs. Holbright — no doubt wanting to know how her darling Peke is getting on down in the hold."
"Maybe you'd like to go down and find out," Laura grinned.
"I've already been down twice. It's the fattest, most bad-tempered bitch I've seen!"
"Are you talking about Mrs. Holbright or the dog?"
"Both," said Jock and as the buzzer sounded again, he disappeared down the aisle.
Laura turned her head and looked out of the window at the stars shining in the dark sky. Nikolaos was already a thousand miles away and yet he was so close in her thoughts she could almost feel his presence. She sighed and felt the weight of his ring in the hollow between her breasts. A flawless emerald, larger than a postage stamp, it was far too valuable for her to wear during her working hours, and she carried it on a platinum chain round her neck.
It was ten o'clock the following morning when the T.M.A. Stratocruiser signalled Idlewild for permission to land. Strong head winds had made them an hour late and because many other planes had been similarly delayed they were requested to circle round for half an hour. Obediently they droned over the airport, and the passengers, so near and yet so far from their destination, waited impatiently. After what seemed an eternity the request "Fasten safety belts" flickered red above the cockpit door and slowly they bumped their way down through the clouds, the whine of the motors sharp and high.
It did not take Laura long to see her passengers through immigration and customs and once she had cleared her own luggage, she was able to leave the airport. Bowling along the parkway in a yellow taxi-cab she thought longingly of the quiet hotel in uptown New York where all T.M.A. crew stayed during their slipovers.
'I'll have a bath,' she promised herself, 'and then I'll go to bed and sleep the clock round.'
She wriggled her toes. Almost fourteen hours on her feet with a couple of hours' rest in the middle of the night.
'I hope it won't be as bad going back,' she thought and then determinedly closed her mind to her job.
They crossed the Triboro Bridge to New York and as usual she was overwhelmed by the beautiful outline of a city that had no beauty when seen at close quarters. Skyscrapers reared steel fingers into the clouds and myriad windows, like sightless eyes, reflected the weak rays of March sunlight.
In the city itself the traffic was even more congested. Unlike London, there were traffic lights at every street corner and they stopped and started all the way along Park Avenue. It was midday by the time they reached 76th Street and the small hotel that had been Laura's home from home in the past few months.
She went into the lobby and the reception clerk loomed up with a smile.
"You're not staying here this trip, Miss Prentiss. We tried to contact you at the airport but you'd already left for the city."
Laura was mystified. "Where am I staying then? All T.M.A. personnel check in here."
"You're booked in at the Plaza."
"The Plaza!" She thought immediately of the large, imposing hotel that overlooked Central Park South. "Are you sure there hasn't been a mistake?"
"Positive. You're to go there right away."
Still puzzled, Laura took a taxi to the Plaza and entering the dignified lobby with its bell boys and scurrying receptionists, was more than ever convinced there had been some mistake. T.M.A. could certainly not afford to book her in here.
She walked over to the reception desk. "My name's Miss Prentiss and I—"
"Right this way, Miss Prentiss. We'll show you to your suite at once."
Before Laura could protest the man snapped his fingers and a page whisked her overnight case from her hand and led her towards the lift. Silently they whirred up to the tenth floor and walked down a carpeted corridor, to a pair of double doors at the far end. With a flourish the boy opened them and Laura found herself in a large drawing-room. Bouquets of flowers scented the air: pink and white tulips and long- stemmed yellow roses. Frowning, she crossed the deep pile carpet and entered the bedroom. Here there were more flowers and on the dressing-table a large basket of fruit.
"I must be dreaming." She did not know she had said the words aloud until she heard them echoed behind her and swinging round, saw the dark broad- shouldered man in the doorway. "Nikolaos!"
"Surprised to see me?"
She nodded wordlessly and he strode over and took her in his arms. "I flew over on Bantock. It was touch and go whether I got in first but luckily our plane landed ahead of yours. Do you like this suite?"
"It's wonderful but—"
"It's yours."
She drew away from him and they returned to the sitting-room. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming to New York?"
"I wanted it to be a surprise. I knew I had to come op business some time this month and I fixed it so that I could have these three days alone with you. I'll follow you back to London at the end of next week."
"Did you really have to come on business?"
"Of course. But first I have three days with no business commitments at all and I certainly don't intend to spend them alone.. You won't give up your job until we're married so—" he spread out his hands. "If Mahomet won't come to the mountain…"
Laura could not help thrilling to the knowledge that she meant so much to this man that he had flown thousands of miles to spend three days alone with her. Alone together in New York. Nervously she reached in her handbag for a cigarette and Nikolaos held out his fighter. His hand was steady but his voice, when he spoke, was not.
"Don't be afraid of me, Laura. I would be lying if I said I didn't want you now, this very moment, but I understand the way you feel and I am willing to wait."
"Nikolaos, I—"
"Darling, don't. You need not say anything. All I ask is that you don't begrudge me these days with you. Let me be with you every moment I can."
She smiled tremulously. "I'm entirely at your disposal!"
"Good. Then we will use part of the time to go shopping for your trousseau. But first there is something I must do."
She looked at him questioningly and he smiled and pulled her into his arms. Their lips met and Laura closed her eyes. When they were apart, she thought of him with fear, fear that in possessing her he would also want to control her. But when he held her close, as he was doing now, she longed for him to make her his.
Yet her desire was mixed with guilt for she despised herself for feeling this way about a man she did not love. That she did not love him was undeniable: all she could give him was a poor imitation.
"Oh Nikolaos," she murmured. "You shouldn't marry me. I can't give you enough."
"What a way to talk! You are giving me yourself. What more could I want?" He kissed the tip of her nose. "Now then, let's have some lunch and go shopping."
As they walked along Fifth Avenue, Laura's spirits rose. It was exhilarating to be in New York. There was a bustle and aliveness here that could be found in no other city in the world. Everything was larger than life size: the skyscrapers, the long cars with the shiny chromium, the beautifully appointed self-service restaurants and the fabulous shops with their magnificent displays of jewellery and clothes.
They paused to look in the windows of Bergdorf Goodman. Although it was March and a cold wind blew down the street, gay cottons and silks were prominently displayed.
"What a city of contrasts this is," she said. "When I was here in January all the stores were showing beach wear for Florida. Now it's barely spring and they're showing August fashions.
"And beautiful fashions too," he acknowledged. "That blue dress in the corner is just your style. Let's go in and buy it."
She shook her head. "Bergdorfs are much too expensive. I intend to shop around for bargains."
"Shop around for them by all means," he said coolly, "but the moment you're my wife I'll throw them out."
"What!" She looked at him and
saw he was unsmiling.
"I mean it, Laura. This nonsense between us has gone on long enough. As my wife, your jewellery will be second to none and that must apply to everything else you wear."
She moved a little away from him. This was not the sort of conversation to have on a teeming sidewalk in New York. Yet it was something that had to be discussed and, brought into the open by Nikolaos at this moment, could not longer be put off.
"You're not allowing me any pride, are you?" she said in a quiet voice. "Already you regard me as a chattel."
"How dare you use that word?" Roughly he pulled her to the edge of the curb, and signalling a taxi, unceremoniously bundled her in. "Drive round Central Park until I tell you to stop," he ordered.
They moved off and Lama leaned back and closed her eyes. Nikolaos was spoiling for a row and she was in no mood to fight. Tiredness seeped through her very bones and she longed to be in bed. She sighed deeply and the emerald ring shifted on her skin. She unbuttoned the top of her bodice and, taking it out, slipped it on her finger.
"Thank you," he said. "I was wondering when you were going to do that."
"I told you I can't wear it when I'm working. The other girls—"
"Damn the other girls! You're my fiancee, Laura. Are you ashamed of it?"
"Don't be silly. But do try to see it from my point of view. I don't like being envied and—"
"As my wife, many people will envy you. You'll have to get used to it." There was no arrogance in his remark; it was a statement of fact, and as such, had to be accepted.
"It will take time," she said quietly. "Please don't be angry with me."
"I'm never angry with you. I love you, Laura, and you hurt me when you make my money into a barrier between us. Wealth means nothing to me unless I can use it to give you everything you want." He moved a little away and tilted her face up to his. "When you're my wife you will be a part of me and all I possess will belong to you. Now we will have no more nonsense about what is yours and what is mine."
Rachel Lindsay - The Taming of Laura Page 10