Recognising the validity of what he had said, she realised it was childish to argue. "I'm sorry for being so silly, Nikolaos. You're quite right." Of her own volition she kissed him on the mouth, drawing back quickly before he could respond.
Shopping with Nikolaos was an experience Laura would never forget, and at the end of three days her suite resembled Aladdin's cave. Although she did not have time to order any special clothes—"We'll get those at Balenciaga in Paris and Fontana in Rome," he said—he did nevertheless insist on buying her some casual play suits, a dozen cotton day dresses and a vast miscellany of matching shoes and bags.
On their last night together in New York they dined at the Pavilion, and Nikolaos did not take his eyes from her face. "I cannot bear the thought of not seeing you tomorrow night. What time are you leaving?"
"Our flight's scheduled for ten p.m. but I'd like to be at Idlewild by eight. We've an unaccompanied child with us and I want to talk to him for a while before take-off."
"Why?"
"Because he's never flown before and he's a chronic asthma case."
"Good heavens! Why do they let such a child fly on his own?"
"I don't know, but anyway when I phoned the office today and they told me, I suggested his mother bring him to the airport before the scheduled time so that I'd have a chance to make friends with him."
"That is kind of you, Laura. You truly have a good heart."
Unexpectedly her eyes filled with tears. She was used to him complimenting her on her beauty but the remark he had just made was so unexpected that it moved her unutterably. She glanced down at the table and saw his hands toying with his wine glass, the fingers long and blunt, the thick hairy wrists protruding from a narrow edge of white shirt cuff. A thrill of fear ran through her as she thought of what lay ahead. What would her life be like with him? Alone together with the door closed on the outside world, money and position would mean nothing: the only thing that mattered, their power over each other. And whose power would be the greater? Panic rose in her. To be possessed by Nikolaos would be glory to a woman who loved him, but to a woman who did not… She shivered and he put his hand on her arm.
"What's the matter, darling?"
"Nothing. I—" she moistened her lips. "I was thinking about us."
"That should make you look happy—not sad." He raised his glass. "Drink a toast with me, sweetheart. To us and our future together."
"Our future."
With a shaking hand Laura put the rim to her lips but the wine tasted bitter against her tongue.
CHAPTER NINE
LAURA opened her eyes and stared round 'her, puzzled. The sun streamed in through the window, reflecting on the crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling and making a pattern of gold on the lime green carpet. With a start she sat up in bed, memory returning as she looked round the opulent bedroom in Mrs. Dimar's flat. It had been Nikolaos' wish that she leave from his aunt's home on the morning of her wedding, and because of the large retinue of bridesmaids—another of his wishes—she had agreed.
Pushing aside the bedclothes she padded over to the window. The street was deserted and she stared down at it. Her wedding day. By this afternoon she would no longer be Laura Prentiss but Mrs. Nikolaos Dimar. The thought aroused no response in her mind: it was as if she were thinking of another woman. A glance at the clock on the bedside table showed her it was barely seven. It was too early to get up, but it was impossible to go to sleep again, and slipping on a housecoat, she quietly opened the door and made her way to the kitchen. It was warm and empty and larger than the whole of the flat which she and Celia had shared.
Smiling at the thought she put on the kettle, set two cups on a tray and found some biscuits. Unfamiliar with the layout, she took some time and before she was ready the kettle was boiling. Picking up the tray, she walked along the corridor to the room which had been given to Celia.
It had required a certain amount of manoeuvring to make sure her friend was not on flight duty today and it had been her first experience of Nikolaos' power.
"If you'd like her to have the whole week off I can arrange it," he had said when she first broached the subject. "After all, I'm not President of Bantock Airlines for nothing."
"I can't believe you'd ever waive the rules!"
"For you I would do anything. Surely you know that?"
Instantly she thought of Melissa. So far she had not talked about her to Nikolaos and now seemed an auspicious moment. She moved over to sit beside him on the sofa. "Can I talk to you about Melissa, please?"
"Of course. What do you want to say?"
"She's very unhappy, and I—"
"Please, my dear. You must not discuss my family affairs."
"Why not?" she protested. "As you wife I will be part of your family."
"As my wife you must learn not to question anything I do."
"If you expect me to be a yes-woman—" The rest of her words had been lost for he pulled her into his arms and covered her face with kisses.
"How beautiful you look when you are in a temper! I'm going to enjoy making you angry and then soothing you with love."
Remembering the way the scene had ended, she sighed. Would all their arguments end with his mounting desire and her acquiescence? Closing her mind to the question she walked into Celia's bedroom, put the tray on the table and drew back the curtains.
"Good heavens, Laura, why are you up so early? I should be bringing tea in to you this morning."
Laura held out a cup. "This will probably be the last time I'll do it for anyone. In future I'll have hordes of people waiting on me."
"You might try and sound a bit more cheerful at the prospect." Celia sipped her tea. "I think you're darn lucky. And not only because of the servants and the money—but because of Nikolaos. He's super."
"What a pity you didn't meet him first," Laura said lightly.
"Don't be crazy. He hasn't got eyes for anyone except you. Oh, I can just see the sort of life you'll lead: lying in bed till twelve, lunching at Claridges, shopping at Fortnums and Dior, living in Paris and New York and Rome." Celia broke off abruptly. "Well, say something."
"What's there for me to say?" Laura wandered over to the dressing table and kept her face averted. "If you marry the man you love it doesn't matter if you live in a semi-detached house in Biggleswade."
"But how much nicer to marry a man you love and live in a penthouse in Park Lane!"
Although Celia's words were a statement of fact there was an inflection in her voice, a question that Laura did not want to answer, and she turned back to the bed and put her empty cup on the tray.
"You must tell me what you want," she said humorously, "and I'll see if I can oblige."
Celia turned scarlet. "I wasn't hinting! For heaven's sake don't think I was hinting. Anyway, you won't have time for me once you're married."
"What a thing to say!" Laura was shocked. Although she knew Nikolaos' wealth would make a difference to her own life, she refused to believe it could affect her friends. "You mustn't let my marriage make any difference to us, Celia. You're the only person I can talk to."
"Am I?" Celia said dryly. "You haven't done much talking to me lately."
Laura flushed. "It's not because I haven't wanted to but—well, there are some things best left unsaid, some things I don't even want to admit to myself."
"What sort of things? If you've any doubts about marrying Nikolaos, then for heaven's sake say so. It isn't too late to change your mind, you know. You can always get your job back."
Laura shook her head. "Don't take any notice of me. It's just wedding day nerves."
"I think it's more than that," Celia said flatly. "You've allowed Nikolaos' position to frighten you. You should try and forget all he stands for and just think of him as an ordinary man."
"Ordinary?" Laura's voice trembled. "If only he were! It's because he's so extraordinary that I'm airaid."
"A year from now you'll laugh at all this," Celia retorted. "You've be
en a spinster too long, my girl. What you don't like is having to give up your freedom and become dependent on someone else."
Laura remembered Celia's words as she returned to her own room. Was the reason for her fear as uncomplicated as her friend believed? With all her heart she hoped so.
Soon the other occupants of the flat began to stir and by ten o'clock Laura's bedroom was a scene of activity. The couturier arrived with the wedding dress and five young bridesmaids—their cheeks as pink as their organdie dresses—filled the room with excited chatter. Melissa arrived last and coming straight over to Laura, kissed her on both cheeks.
"Just think of it—in another hour you'll be my cousin! If only I could be a bride too." Her eyes filled with tears. "I asked Philip to come to the church but he refused. He said he doesn't like my family and never wants to see them."
"You can't blame him."
"I don't, but I'm afraid he'll begin to feel like that about me too. Oh Laura, you promised to speak to Nikolaos and—"
"My dear, I've tried but he won't listen to me."
"You must try again! Once you're married it'll be different."
"Don't bank on it," Laura said quietly and was relieved when Celia walked over to them and winked at her behind Melissa's back.
"Now then you two, break it up. We don't want the bride to be late at church. Nick won't like it."
Melissa giggled at the thought and shepherded the other bridesmaids from the room, leaving Celia, as maid of honour, to help Laura into her wedding dress.
"Thank heavens I came in when I did," Celia said. "You don't want anyone crying on your shoulder today of all days." She fastened the tiny buttons on the bodice. "There! That's the lot. You can take a look at yourself. For the first time in my life I'm at a loss for words!"
Laura moved across the carpet to the mirror. The girl looking back at her was a stranger, her tallness and slimness heightened by a full skirt which fell into a parchment satin train edged with pearls, the same pearls framing a coronet which held the white tulle veil in position. Through it her hair glowed with the lustre of a ruby, matching the ruby clasp of the string of matchless pearls round her throat; Nikolaos' first gift of jewellery to her.
"It doesn't look like me," she said huskily.
"Well, it certainly isn't me!" Celia grinned. "Come on, we've only fifteen minutes to get to church!"
In the drawing-room Michael Kitchener waited for them. Not having any relations of her own, Laura had been delighted when he had asked if he could give her away. "After all," he had said, "if you hadn't become an air hostess you'd never have met the Dimars. So in a way I feel responsible for your romance!"
Seeing him, unfamiliar in morning dress, she was glad she had accepted his offer, for she would always associate him with the happiest time of her life.
She smiled at him and taking his arm, they went downstairs to the car. A crowd of people thronged the pavement as Laura stepped into the Rolls, faces pressed close against the windows.
"Don't look very 'appy, do she?" someone asked. "Perhaps she's marrying for money."
"He's probably old enough to be her father," someone else said.
Laura gave no sign that she had heard the remarks, only a pulse beating in her throat indicated that the words had struck home. If only they knew she was marrying one of the most eligible men in Europe, they would be even more surprised that she did not fit in with the conventional idea of the radiantly happy bride.
She closed her eyes to hide the tears and when she opened them again, they had reached the fashionable Mayfair church which Nikolaos had chosen for their wedding. Here too there was a vast crowd of spectators as well as press photographers, and as she walked down the red carpet they surged about her. At the top of the steps she paused to adjust her veil and the triumphant strains of Mendelssohn's Wedding March boomed out to welcome her.
Taking Michael Kitchener's arm, she entered the church and as she began to walk down the aisle was enveloped in its awe-inspiring atmosphere. Magnificent stained glass windows diffused the sunlight, bathing the interior in a mysterious purple glow, while magnificent banks of flowers added brilliant colour all the way to the altar. She was only dimly conscious of the crowds of people thronging the pews, but was intensely aware of the man standing ahead of her. Seeing his broad shoulders and thick black hair, she knew a moment of suffocating fear. What was she doing here? How could she marry this stranger, a man whom until recently she had considered her enemy?
'I can't go through with it!' she thought in panic. 'I don't love him the way a woman should love a man with whom she's going to share the rest of her life.' She hesitated, her bouquet of roses trembling against her breast. The next instant Nikolaos turned and looked at her, and seeing the overwhelming love which transfigured his face, her fears subsided and all feeling left her. Numbly she stood by his side and the bishop raised his hand in a gesture of benediction and began the marriage ceremony.
The church was filled with a quiet so intense that it was almost intangible and Laura could not shake off the belief that the seats behind her were filled, not with live people, but with a ghostly congregation conjured up from some dim recesses of the past. As in a dream she gave Nikolaos her hand and as in a dream saw the slim platinum band slide over her finger.
Together they knelt in front of the altar and listened to the bishop, and together they walked to the vestry. Full consciousness of her position only came as she handed Celia her bouquet and shakily signed her name. No longer was she Laura Prentiss but Laura Dimar, bound forever to the tall, dark man by her side who signed his own name with a commanding flourish.
She glanced at him and seeing a faint film of perspiration on his forehead, felt an unexpected tenderness towards him.
"Thank goodness I won't have to go through this sort of thing again!" he said softly and held out his arm. "Come my darling, our family are waiting to congratulate us."
Obediently Laura put her hand in his and walked down the aisle and out of the church. Guests thronging the entrance saw the tears shimmering on her cheeks and mistook them for tears of happiness: only Celia, waiting with Michael Kitchener at the bottom of the steps for their car, knew better, and could not help the sigh that escaped her lips.
Michael Kitchener misinterpreted it. "You'll miss Laura, won't you?"
"Very much."
"Money won't make any difference to her, you know."
Celia sighed. "But it's bound to keep us apart. Nikolaos travels all over the place and I doubt if he'll ever let her out of his sight."
"And I don't intend to let the bridesmaid out of my sight!"
Swinging round, Celia saw Tim O'Brien, and her spirits lifted.
"Can't have you feeling sorry for yourself," he whispered. "Think of the beautiful bride you're going to make some day."
"Yes," Celia said dryly, "just think!" She looked into Tim's face and noticed that in spite of his light tones, his vivid blue eyes were serious, his mouth set in a straight line. Poor Tim! He was evidently still carrying the torch for Laura.
"Come on, Celia," Michael Kitchener called. "The car's waiting."
"Coming," she said, and smiling at Tim, ran down the steps.
The wedding breakfast was held in the ballroom of the Savoy Hotel, and Laura, standing by her husband's side pretending an interest in people she had never seen before, wondered if the rest of her life would follow the same pattern. Again panic overwhelmed her but this time Nikolaos saw it and caught her elbow.
"Are you all right, darling? I've never seen you so pale."
"It's the heat," she murmured.
"It'll soon be over." He glanced at his watch. "We'll have to wait till we can cut the wedding cake and then I promise you we'll go."
"I'll be all right." With an effort she smiled and moved at his side round the room, forcing herself to laugh and talk with all the strangers who wished her well.
Soon it was time to cut the cake, champagne glasses were raised and toasts given.
&
nbsp; "Throw your bouquet," someone called and Laura smilingly complied, tossing the roses into the air and laughing at the confusion on Celia's face as they fell into her arms.
"Well, well!" Tim O'Brien said. "It looks as if you're going to be the next bride after all."
Nervously Celia pushed her hands through her hair, dishevelling her curls and making herself look very young and vulnerable. "I'm not superstitious," she said tartly. "Neither am I likely to get married."
"What rot! You''' make a wonderful wife."
Afraid that if she continued to look at him she would give herself away, Celia turned her head. "I'll come to you if I need a reference."
"I can't give you one without trying you first," he laughed. "How about it?"
Infuriated, she swung round. "If you think that remark's funny, Tim O'Brien, let me tell you—" The words died away as he caught her hands and pulled her into a corner of the room partially secluded by a high bank of flowers.
"This isn't the time or the place," he said huskily, "but I meant what I said. I love you and I want to marry you."
Disbelieving, Celia glared at him. "You're very fickle in your emotions, I must say. I thought you were in love with Laura? That's the only reason you asked me out— you as good as told me so."
"Sure I did," he said mildly. "But how many times have we talked about Laura in the last few months? And anyway, once she got engaged what was the point in my seeing you any more—unless it was because I'd fallen for your ugly mug?"
"Thanks," she said dryly. "When I'm looking for compliments in future, I'll know where to come!" She went to walk past him but he barred her way.
"For heaven's sake, Celia, don't be so prickly. Don't you know that I think you're the most wonderful, fascinating, exasperating and bewitching woman in the world and that I love you to distraction?" Roughly he caught her by the shoulders. "I do, you know. I can't think of a life away from you. Say you like me a little and that there's hope for me."
Listening to Tim pleading for her love—a love which, until now, she had thought would never be requited, Celia was too full of happiness to speak and glancing down at the bouquet in her hands, plucked one of the roses and gave it to him.
Rachel Lindsay - The Taming of Laura Page 11