"Let's talk about it when we're alone," she whispered.
His face lit up but before he could say anything, there was loud cheering from the centre of the room and hand in hand they hurried forward to wave goodbye to the bride and groom.
To Laura the next few hours were a kaleidoscope of swiftly changing events. First of all they drove to the penthouse to change into their travelling clothes and entering the apartment—her apartment now—she was welcomed by the housekeeper and escorted to the master bedroom.
Nikolaos followed and looked at her as she stood in the centre of the room, the satin folds of her dress caressing her body, the veil drifting in clouds of tulle round her shoulders.
"All my life I'll think of you like this." He took a step forward and then stopped. "I daren't take you in my arms now. If I do we'll never catch the plane!" He walked over to a door by the far wall. "My clothes are in the dressing room. I'll change in there."
"Very well." She spoke in a matter-of-fact voice. "I'll meet you in the drawing room."
He raised an eyebrow. "How formal you are, darling. You can come into the dressing room if you like. I promise not to scream!"
She could not help smiling and he grinned back. "That's better. You've looked so solemn all day, you had me worried."
He closed the door behind him and Laura sank on to the bed, remaining there until a middle-aged maid came in and deftly helped her to change into a cream silk pleated skirt and short, stand-away jacket.
Ready, waiting, she stood in the centre of the drawing room and it was not till she heard a latch click behind her that she swung round and saw Nikolaos, appearing taller and darker in a pale grey lounge suit.
"How lovely you look," he said and lifted up her hand to kiss the wedding ring that encircled her finger. "My wife at last. I almost feel no one can part us now."
Smiling was an effort but she did her best. "Almost?"
"Yes. Only when I hold you in my arms tonight will I truly believe that no one can ever part us again." Tenderly he kissed her eyelids and, still holding her hand, walked with her across the room and out of the apartment.
At the airport one of the Bantock planes was waiting for them. It was strange for Laura to be treated as a passenger and she was glad that the stewardess assigned to them was someone she did not know. The interior of the aircraft was like a small suite in a luxury hotel: the saloon was furnished with highly polished walnut and delicate brocade; there were four armchairs, a table and even a writing desk, while the back of the plane had been fitted out as a bedroom.
"I use this plane for all my long flights," Nikolaos explained. "Sometimes I hold business conferences en route and it's useful for me to be able to snatch a few hours' sleep."
Once again she wondered if she would ever get used to his enormous wealth and she clenched her hands, feeling her wedding ring, cold and unfamiliar, encircling her finger in the same way that Nikolaos now intended to encircle her life.
It was dusk when they landed at Nice and still twilight as they drove along the coast road to Monte Carlo. The sky was a paler blue than the sea and the mountains loomed purple as they reached the harbour and saw before them the graceful white yacht swinging gently on its moorings. Lights gleamed from every porthole and the Dimar flag—green, lemon and orange—fluttered from the masthead.
Only when she felt the deck moving gently beneath her feet and saw the bay of Monte Carlo curve away from them d;d the realisation come over Laura that this was her wedding night and she was completely at Nikolaos' mercy. As if sensing what was going through her mind he put his hands on her shoulders. "Don't be afraid of me, Laura. I'll never do anything to hurt you.
You have given me the most precious gift—yourself— and I will cherish it with my life."
"Nikolaos, I—" Her mouth was so dry that the words would not come out, yet they continued to beat in her brain. 'I can't go through with it,' she thought. 'If you -don't love someone, it's wrong—wrong!'
"Laura, what is it?" His eyes crinkled with amusement. "I always knew you were a little afraid of me, but I never thought you'd be so petrified." His humour broke the tension between them and she gave a shaky laugh.
"I'd like to go down to my cabin and have a rest."
"Of course, I'll show you the way."
Holding her hand he led her along the deck to a large stateroom. It could have been a bedroom in a luxury hotel, so little relation did it bear to a ship. The furniture was palest sycamore, the furnishings of peach and turquoise blue with silver lamps on the bedside tables and a silver carpet underfoot. The large double bed had been turned down for the night and on the satin pillows with their lace edging lay a gossamer nightgown and navy silk pyjamas.
"The bathroom is on the left," Nikolaos said, "and my dressing room is over here." He walked over and opened the door. "I'll use the guest bathroom, and you can use this one. How long will it take you to get ready?"
She kept her eyes averted from the bed. "Half an hour?"
"Fine. It's warm enough to have dinner on deck and I'll meet you up there. I daren't wait here with you," he said huskily.
It was useless to pretend she did not understand him and to save the necessity of replying she busied herself undoing her jacket. She heard his laugh, low and deep behind her and then the door closed and she was alone.
Trembling, she sat on the bed and buried her head in her hands. It was only as she felt the boat rock more heavily and realised they were out of the harbour that she stood up and walked over to the dressing table. Slowly she unclasped the pearl necklace and put it into the gold trinket box. The name "Laura" was engraved in rubies on the lid and the sight of this latest gift of Nikolaos' suddenly brought home to her the enormity of what she had done. 'How could I have sold myself in this way? I don't love him, I should never have married him.'
Agitated, she paced the room. Many marriages were made without love: because of companionship, mutual interests, loneliness; yet none of these had been her reason. She walked over to the porthole and lit a cigarette. What had made her say yes? Trying to find one answer she found many: a need to be cherished, to lean on someone who, unlike Andreas, would not let her down; a belief that she could help Melissa but, more than anything else, a feeling of apathy which had allowed her to drift into marriage with him because it was the easy way out.
'What a fool I was,' she thought bitterly. 'How could I have thought it would ever work out? How could I have thought I could hope to make Nikolaos happy when I don't love him?'
She bathed and changed into a short-skirted chiffon dress: white for a bride. Trembling at the picture it invoked, she went out of the room and up to the deck.
In a secluded corner, shielded from the breeze by a canvas awning, a table had been laid with caviare, cold chicken and champagne on ice. Nikolaos was waiting for her, his white tropical dinner jacket accentuating his dark skin and making him appear more foreign than ever.
"How beautiful you look," he murmured. "We must drink a toast to this moment."
Hoping it would give her Dutch courage, Laura accepted a glass of champagne, and as she sipped, found it difficult to believe in a situation that was more like a fairy tale than reality: a man and woman on the deck of a gleaming white yacht that gracefully breasted the waves of the blue Mediterranean while from a midnight sky a crescent moon shone silver.
"Come and have something to eat, darling," he said. "We've neither of us had anything all day."
Laura sat down and pretending to a hunger she did not feel, began to eat.
"I'm going to have a larger yacht built," Nikolaos said suddenly. "If you have any particular wishes about it, let me know."
"What's wrong with this one?"
"It will be too small for us in future. When we have children I'm sure you won't want to leave them behind."
Her hand shook so violently that she had to put down her fork. She had never thought of bearing Nikolaos' children.
"I'll call the new yacht 'Laura'," he continu
ed, "and it will be my wedding gift to you."
"You've already given me the pearls."
He laughed. "Wait till you see the rest of your jewellery. It's waiting for you in our vaults in Paris." He reached across the table and caught her hand. "You must get used to accepting things from me, my love."
"Nikolaos, no! I don't want to feel obligated to you."
"That's a ridiculous word to use. A man and wife should never feel obligated towards each other. I give and you take and it does not matter because the giving and the taking are done with love."
"No!" She pushed back her chair and stood up. "I don't love you, Nikolaos. I don't love you."
"My darling." He strode over and pulled her into his arms. "You're nervous and overwrought. It is understandable."
"I'm not overwrought. I tell you—"
"Hush!" He put his hands over her mouth. "You are too beautiful to talk such nonsense. Look at me, Laura. My lovely, lovely Laura."
"I'm not your Laura!" Her voice was high, shaky. "I can never be your Laura. I don't love you and I should never have married you. I tried to make myself believe that liking was enough… but it isn't. You're alien to me, Nikolaos. I don't understand you and I'm afraid of you."
His hands dropped to his sides and he stared at her, his eyes glittering black in a face that was white beneath its tan. "I have not altered since I met you," he said quietly, "and all that you are saying now was equally applicable then. Why did you wait till now, before telling me all this?"
"Because I—because you swept me off my feet… The glamour, the excitement, the—"
"The cachet of marrying the head of the Dimar Shipping Line?" he said bitterly.
She nodded, her eyes wet with tears. "Maybe that too. This morning when you put the ring on my finger I knew how wrong I had been. I'd have given everything in my power to be able to turn back the clock just a few hours. But it was too late. I only—"
"Laura, stop it! I don't want to hear any more. How can you stand there and talk so calmly when you've crushed my heart in your hands?"
"Nikolaos, don't! I can't bear it when you're bitter."
"What do you expect me to be? Grateful? Grateful that on my wedding night my bride tells me that she hates me?"
"I don't hate you. I'm so mixed up, I don't know what I feel. Please give me time."
"You've had too much time. You've built me up into an ogre from whom you want to run away." He advanced on her deliberately, his mouth a thin hard line. "Well you can't run away any more.
Roughly he pulled her close, forcing her head back with such intensity that she would have staggered had not his arms been tightly around her. Then he was kissing her, not the tender kisses she had grown to expect from him, but kisses of anger, of hurt.
"Nikolaos, leave me alone!"
"I've left you alone too long."
Before she realised what he was doing he lifted her up in his arms and striding across the deck, pushed open the door of their bedroom.
It seemed a long time later that he stood looking down at her, his face suffused with colour. "I always thought that the first time we were together it would be with love. Instead it was with hate, and because of it, you have made me hate myself."
"Nikolaos, I—"
"Don't say anything, Laura." He walked to the door and turned to look at her. "You needn't worry—it will never happen again."
CHAPTER TEN
LAURA drifted out of sleep to the sound of timbers creaking and sitting up in bed, pushed the heavy strands of dark red hair away from her face. Padding across the carpet she looked out of the porthole. The sea was the colour of aquamarine and from an azure sky the sun beat down. The first day of her honeymoon. What a travesty it was going to be! If only she did not have to face Nikolaos again. If only it were possible to run away.
When she reached the deck the table was laid for breakfast and a steward served her coffee and rolls. There was no sign of her husband and after she had eaten she lay on a palliasse. Beneath her the sea swirled gently and the ship moved from side to side. Seagulls screamed overhead and she felt a sense of peace envelop her, a peace that was rudely shattered by the sound of footsteps. Sitting up she saw Nikolaos walking towards her. Half expecting him to be different, she was disappointed that he looked the same; yet not quite the same for as he came nearer she saw his mouth tightly set, his eyes cold and hard.
He moved the palliasse next to her and dropped down on it. "We've got to talk, Laura."
"I know." Tears filled her eyes. "I'll do anything you want me to do in order to end this — this horrible situation."
"Indeed?" With great precision he took out his cigarette case, handed her one and lit it before lighting his own. "And how do you propose to end this horrible situation, as you call it?"
"Why, I—I thought we'd get our marriage annulled."
"You're mad!" His voice rang out so sharply that she drew back. "Do you think I'm going to be made a laughing-stock?"
"But you can't want us to go on. Our marriage doesn't mean anything, any more."
"That is regrettable but true. However, you are my wife and you're going to remain so until I decide that it is time for us to part."
"You can't mean it!" She beat her hand against the deck. "What sort of life would we have together, hating each other ———— "
"I don't hate you, Laura. I despise you. You are a coward and a cheat."
"You've no right to say that!"
"Let's not have any more recriminations," he said wearily. "I've had as much as I can take from you. You're my wife, and you'll do as I say. I told you last night that I won't make any demands on you and I intend to keep my word. For your part, I look on you to behave as my friends would expect. Perhaps in a year we can separate and eventually get a divorce." He threw his cigarette across the railing. It wavered in the air and then dropped out of sight. "Although perhaps divorce is the wrong word to use. Our marriage is so unreal and you obviously never meant any the vows you made…"
"But why wait a year, maybe you won't want to wait that long yourself?"
"I doubt if I'll fall in love again as quickly as you imagine," he said sarcastically. "You've taught me a harsh lesson, Laura, and I'm swift to learn."
"You do hate me, don't you?" she said quietly. "No matter what you say, you do hate me."
He did not answer and she watched him stand up and walk away.
Later that afternoon he told her he intended to continue with their honeymoon and realising it would be futile to argue, she said nothing. Remembering his bitter words, she was forced to admit that although he had judged her harshly, he had not judged her without justification. She had lied to him and cheated him and though it had not been a deliberate intent to deceive—merely a childish belief that everything would work out all right in the end—he was the one who would ultimately suffer most. Bitterly she acknowledged that at the very least, she owed him the year he had demanded.
It was the end of June before they returned to London and entering the Park Lane penthouse, found it overflowing with flowers. There were urns of roses and bouquets of gladioli while vast posies of freesia decorated one table like a multi-coloured cloth.
"My friends are welcoming you back," he said dryly. "You will get the opportunity to meet them all again soon. I am noted for my parties." He walked over to the sideboard and poured a whisky. In the past few weeks he had begun to drink heavily and she watched with a faint frown as he drained the glass and tipped the bottle to pour himself another.
"Nikolaos!" she said and was relieved when he left the sideboard and came over to her.
"Well?"
"About———- " She searched in her mind for something to say. "About the entertaining. What will I be required to do?"
"Nothing. I managed very well before I was married and there's no reason for anything to be altered. Bingham is a perfect butler and his wife takes care of the other staff."
"Do you employ many people here?"
"There'
s a chef, my valet and two maids. I've also engaged a personal maid for you."
"I don't want one."
"You have many lovely clothes," he said coldly, "and they need to be taken care of. I want you to be a credit to me."
"You make me sound like a dressmakers dummy."
"You're hardly a wife!"
She flung out her hands. "If you're going to jeer at everything I say "
"I'm sorry. You're quite right." He rested an elbow on the mantelpiece. "I have been pretty unbearable these last weeks, but I'm sure you can appreciate why. However, you'll find me easier to get on with now that I can throw myself into my work. If I make another million pounds, Laura, the credit will be solely yours!"
She reddened. "Believe me, if there was any way I could undo the past…"
"Well there isn't. And I suggest we don't discuss it any more." He walked back to the sideboard and poured himself another whisky. "Will you have a drink?"
"No thanks. It's too early for me."
"Meaning that it should be too early for me?" He raised an eyebrow. "Don't nag, Laura—that's a wife's prerogative."
Not trusting herself to reply she walked out and went down the corridor to her bedroom, where a maid was already unpacking her cases.
"Does Madam wish to wear anything special tonight?" the woman asked.
"No—anything will do. What's your name?"
"Maria." The maid stood up, her bulky figure neat in a black silk dress. "I will do my best to please you, Madam, but if I do anything which you do not like, I hope you will tell me."
Laura smiled. "I'm sure you'll be fine. Just remember that I don't like being fussed over. Not so very long ago I was doing all this sort of thing for myself."
"Yes, Madam." Maria lifted out a pile of lingerie from one of the cases. "I will put these away and then run your bath. If there is anything else you would like…"
"Not for the moment. Just leave me alone and I'll ring when I need you."
"Very good, Madam." The woman went out and Laura took off her shoes and yawned.
Her home was now a penthouse that stretched across the top of one of the largest blocks of flats in London, yet how willingly she would have exchanged it for the cramped flat she had shared w:th Celia. Celia… She picked up the telephone and d;alled her number. It rang and rang but there was no answer and, dejected, she replaced the receiver. Celia was probably on duty. She would have to get in touch with the Flight Officer to find out when she was due back.
Rachel Lindsay - The Taming of Laura Page 12