'Why aren't you wearing your ring?' he demanded icily.
'It's no longer necessary—there are no old ladies to fool here.'
'What about old men—your father, for instance?'
Katy forced a laugh. 'Really, Jake, given my dad's track record with women, I doubt if he could give a damn.'
Jake let go of her wrist. 'Go on up, I'll park the car.'
Katy cast a sidelong glance at his harsh face as she slid out of the car. He caught her gaze and for a second she could have sworn it was a kind of weary defeat she saw reflected in his dark eyes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Katy put the finishing touches to the delicate drawing in front of her, and, dropping the pencil in the holder, with a contented sigh she sat up straight and stretched her slender arms above her head. Another job completed successfully.
She rolled her head around on her shoulders and wearily looked across the room. The calendar on the wall caught her eye: a photograph of the Alps, but it was the date that caused her to drop her hands to her lap and slouch back in her seat.
Two days to Saturday the first of December, her goddaughter's birthday, and she did not relish the prospect of telling Jake she was going to Paris for the weekend.
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, her smooth brow creased in a frown. Jake was her problem; she would never understand him in a million years. In the month they had lived together he had confused, irritated, and made wonderful love to her until she didn't know if she was on her head or her heels. But there was no genuine closeness; even in the ultimate act of love an indefinable barrier existed between them.
Oh, they could talk about music, books, theatre or work for hours, all safe subjects. But under the polite surface of the relationship Katy felt the anger and resentment festering, though was incapable of doing anything about it. It was a classic love-hate relationship, she thought bitterly. She loved Jake but hated the way he used her. His sexual expertise overwhelmed her puny efforts to resist him, and she no longer bothered to try. While Jake simply hated her...
He had always avoided publicity like the plague, but over the past few weeks he had taken her out to dine in every well-known restaurant in London. They had been to two first nights at the theatre, a film premiere with royalty in attendance, a bankers' ball, of all things, and every fashionable nightclub Jake could find.
Their names were now linked in the gossip columns of half the newspapers in the country, and Katy was exhausted. She had come to the conclusion Jake was doing it deliberately, so that when he finally threw her over it would be a very public humiliation. There was no other explanation...
Katy shook her head to dismiss her troubled thoughts. Jake was coming to collect her and that damned white Rolls-Royce hardly blended in with the surroundings. Irritation tightened her full lips as she swung around on the chair to stare blankly out of the window. That was another bone of contention. He hardly let her out of his sight. He insisted on driving her to work. She supposed she should thank her lucky stars he allowed her to come to work. But she didn't feel like it.
Everyone in the factory was perfectly well aware she lived with him. She brazened out the knowing grins and sideways looks because her one source of comfort was her job. At her instigation her father had agreed to the expansion of the limited-edition market.
Katy had just finished a design for commemorative plates for the Chelsea Flower Show next year, and they were good. The buyer at Harrods had been impressed with the samples and ordered accordingly. Her confidence in her work grew day by day. In that one area of her life she was a success, even if the rest of her life was a mess...
The door opened. 'Ready to go, Katy?' Jake's deep, melodious voice vibrated on her over-sensitive nerves.
She jerked upright, her eyes unerringly finding his. He filled the studio with his presence and her heart did its familiar leap in her breast. Resentment burned within her along with a hopeless love for the man. 'You're early,' she snapped.
'I know, but we are going away for a few days, so jump to it, love.' He rubbed his long hands together; whether it was with cold or excitement Katy couldn't be sure. Restlessly he prowled around the room. 'Hurry it. We have to get home and pack.'
'Where to now?' she enquired drily, getting to her feet. There was no point in arguing with him—she had found that much out over the past few weeks. He flattened any objections she made with the thoroughness of a steamroller, or he made love to her and got the same result.
'Let me guess: dinner in Sicily for the seafood, or perhaps Scotland for the haggis.' She glanced at his handsome face and almost laughed out loud at the puzzled look in his dark eyes. 'No, I've got it!' she exclaimed, flinging out her hand in an exaggerated gesture. 'Lapland for the aurora borealis.'
'Katy, what are you going on about?'
'Nothing; nothing at all,' she said, and, picking up her handbag, she moved towards the door. Jake collected her cashmere overcoat from its peg on the wall and helped her on with it.
His hands lingered on her shoulders; his lips brushed the top of her head. 'Katy, you work too hard; you look tired. What I have planned for the weekend will revive you, I promise. Trust me.'
She stiffened and pulled away from his hold. What she had planned for the weekend certainly would not please him, she thought wryly. Meekly she allowed him to take her arm and lead her out of the building to the car. She watched him walk around the front of the vehicle and slide in to the driving seat. How was she going to tell him? He obviously had plans of his own for the next few days.
Angrily she snapped her seatbelt shut. Why shouldn't she have a weekend off? Even mistresses must be entitled to a holiday...
'Why the hell you drive a car like this I will never understand. It is the most pretentious bloody vehicle.' She took out her frustration on the inanimate object-it was easier.
'But I thought you liked it.' Jake's dark head swung round in amazement.
'Like it? You've got to be joking!' she snorted. It reminded her of a bridal car—the last thing she needed under the circumstances. 'And keep your eyes on the road.'
He stared straight ahead, but Katy was stunned to see his lips quirk at the corners in the beginnings of a smile; then he chuckled, and then he laughed out loud.
'I don't see anything funny in this great monstrosity.' But Jake just laughed all the louder.
'I'll tell you one day, Katy,' he vowed, still laughing.
'Don't bother...' she muttered angrily.
Jake cast her a sidelong glance, all humour gone. His brown eyes assessed her pale face, the resentment bubbling just beneath the surface of her set features. Thoughtfully he drove the car straight into the underground car park of the apartment building. He got out of the car and, walking around to the passenger-door, he solicitously took Katy's hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm.
'There is something wrong, Katy. What's the matter? Don't you feel well?'
If only he knew, Katy thought bitterly. But wait a minute! He had given her the perfect excuse. If she could plead illness perhaps she might just be able to wangle a weekend on her own. 'I'm tired, I guess. We have rather been living it up lately,' she said flatly.
'I have just the cure.' Jake smiled down at her as he ushered her out of the lift and into the apartment. 'How do a few days' complete rest and relaxation in a magnificent hotel set high in the Swiss Alps appeal?'
'What?' It was the last thing she needed.
'Let me explain, Katy. Ever since I was an undergraduate at Oxford a group of us have spent the first weekend in December at the same Swiss resort, the same hotel, for the first skiing holiday of the season. Over the years the numbers have fluctuated somewhat, as people married, had kids, and divorced, but usually there are about a dozen. Not everyone skis, so you could rest, relax, and join in the apres-ski. So what do you say?'
Katy collapsed on to the sofa and briefly closed her eyes. He looked so eager, a boyish grin curving his sensuous mouth. At any other time she might have en
joyed what he'd suggested, but not now.
'I don't ski, and I don't want to. You go, and I'll visit Dad for a few days. Having Mrs Thomas fuss over me will be a definite improvement on your housekeeper Mrs Charles frowning her disapproval from morn to night.'
Jake sat down beside her, and took her small hand in his. 'It is within your power to change Mrs Charles's attitude,' he said coldly, his good manner gone. With his thumb he rubbed the third finger of her left hand. 'You could wear the ring I gave you, but you chose not to.' He dropped her hand and stood up.
Katy sighed, and stared searchingly up at him. He was a complete enigma to her. She couldn't understand his attitude at all. He looked so aloof, withdrawn; she watched as he walked to the sideboard and poured himself a large measure of whisky. His back was towards her, and she noted the tension in his broad shoulders, but then tension was the norm in their relationship, she thought sadly.
'Maybe you're right, Katy; I can't begrudge you a visit with your father, and a few days' skiing will do me good.' He turned around and raised his glass to her in a mock salute. 'A short break, hmm?'
A wary smile curved her full lips. She couldn't believe her luck. With Jake gone she could nip over to Paris for the birthday party and be back before he knew. She would have to square it with her father, but that was no problem.
Her smile broadened; she felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. 'Pour me a small martini, please. Be careful on the slopes, Jake,' she teased. 'I seem to remember you breaking a leg once...' The first time they had kissed... God, but she'd been naive then.
Their eyes met and Katy knew he was remembering the same thing.
'Actually that was the second time I had broken my leg,' he informed her with a grin, his good humour returning. His brown eyes darkened as he placed his glass down on the table, and in two strides he was standing over her, her request for a drink obviously forgotten.
She quivered in anticipation. She knew that look in his eyes so well. He reached down and tilted her head back with one strong hand. 'But it was by far the most memorable occasion, Katy,' he purred as he bent over her, his lips brushing hers in a rare gentle kiss.
She sighed; she was powerless to resist him and her slender arms curved around his neck. Jake swung her up against his broad chest and carried her into the bedroom...
Katy let herself into the apartment the following afternoon and walked wearily to the bedroom she shared with Jake. She threw her bag on the bed and kicked off her shoes.
She shivered; the place seemed cold and empty—a wry smile twisted her full lips—probably because it was... Jake had left for Switzerland some hours earlier, and with the master gone Mrs Charles had grudgingly told Katy she was off for the weekend.
Katy had been delighted—everything was working out to perfection. She had called the airline and was booked on the evening flight to Paris. Calls to her father and Claude had completed her arrangements, but that had been this morning.
Now she sat down on the dressing-stool and stared with lacklustre eyes at her pale, frowning reflection. A visit to the local family planning clinic to renew her prescription had ended in disaster. She was pregnant.
Was there no end to her stupidity? she asked herself.
Jake had, after their first night, sarcastically suggested that of course she was protected and she had confirmed his opinion as befitted her sophisticated image. What a laugh! Hotfoot that morning she had visited the clinic and received a prescription for the Pill. Unfortunately, it seemed, she was too late; the damage had already been done, as today's visit had confirmed.
Katy rested her elbows on the table, her head drooped, her hands covering her face; for long moments she sat, breathing deeply, holding back the tears. What a mess! What a God-awful mess! Then slowly the tears forced their way through her tightly closed eyes. She had been living on the edge for too long, working hard, playing the sophisticated mistress, hiding her real emotions, and this latest blow was the last straw. Her shoulders shook as she gave in to a great paroxysm of weeping.
Crying for herself, for her unborn child, she sobbed as though her heart was breaking, and perhaps it was. She loved Jake and it was tearing her apart. Lying in his arms, lost in passion, she had to guard her tongue in case she let slip the words. In her saner moments she told herself she hated him, he was the rat who had slept with her own stepmother, but nothing seemed to make any difference. One touch of his hand and she was lost.
Her tears slowly ebbed and she raised her head. She had the horrible conviction that the real source of her grief was the fact that, now she was pregnant, she saw little alternative but to leave Jake. She had told herself for weeks that she had made a deal with Jake and she had to stick with it. But deep down a small voice whispered, Excuses, excuses.
Jake's deal with her father had been completed for ages. Jake could not possibly renege on it—the money had changed hands. Katy could if she wanted walk out any time, and there was not a damn thing Jake could do about it. The trouble was her own innate honesty forced her to admit that she didn't want to leave Jake, but now she had no option she couldn't bear the thought of his marrying her just because she had foolishly got pregnant.
'Abortion' was an emotive word. Katy was neither for or against it. She had always held the opinion it was the woman's sole right to choose, but for herself she knew it was a non-starter. There was no way she could abort Jake's child. A despairing sigh escaped her. What could she do? There was not just herself to consider. What about her father? At last they were friends. How could she deprive him of his grandchild? Running away again was not the answer.
Abruptly she stood up. Let me get away and think, relax in Paris with friends. No sooner had the thought entered her head than she was moving. A quick shower was followed by a careful application of make-up, slightly more than usual to hide the signs of her crying jag.
She dressed in the white wool suit Jake had taken such an aversion to, and, hastily packing a small suitcase with enough clothes to last her until Sunday plus the parcel containing the soft cuddly toy, her god-daughter's present, she called a cab.
When the plane touched down at Charles de Gaulle Airport Katy sighed with relief, a new enthusiasm lighting her rather sombre features. She strode confidently through the Arrivals lounge, a tall, blonde, elegant young woman, who turned more than a few male heads.
Claude rushed up and swept her into his arms, and in typical French fashion kissed her on both cheeks.
Katy's eyes misted with tears. 'Claude, it is so good to see you.' She had not realised just how much she had missed his companionship. At fifty, he was still a very attractive man, his steel-grey hair beautifully cut, his clothes, as one would expect, the last word in fashion and taste.
'Ah, Lena, let me look at you.'
For a moment Katy was disorientated; she had almost forgotten her Lena Lawrence image.
'No, Claude, it's Katy now; just plain Katy.'
'Cherie, you could never be plain in a million years. Your bones, even in the grave, will be beautiful.'
'Not for some time, I hope!' Katy laughed at his extravagant compliment, and the tone was set for the weekend.
Reaching Claude's house on the outskirts of Paris felt like coming home to Katy. She greeted Alain with kisses and a shared slightly sad smile as they both remembered Anna, her friend, his wife. Then all her attention was captured by the dynamic little ball of pink frills, with a shiny black curly topknot, that was her god-daughter and namesake Caterina.
'You darling!' Katy exclaimed, swinging the little girl up in, her arms. At two, she was already a perfect replica of her mother, and as the innocent childish eyes smiled into Katy's she had to swallow hard on the lump in her throat.
Saturday was spent with the three adults indulging every whim of the little girl—her second birthday was a big occasion. In the afternoon quite a few of Claude's staff turned up and joined the party, and finally, when Caterina had fallen asleep from exhaustion, Katy carried her upstairs an
d put her to bed.
Katy sat by the little bed for a while, gently stroking the tumbled black curls from the small brow. She was a beautiful child; it seemed so unfair that she had lost her mother. With a deep sigh Katy stood up and, turning, walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind her. Very soon she herself would be a mother, and the enormity of her problem threatened to overwhelm her once again.
Determinedly she straightened her shoulders and descended the stairs. She was not going to think about her problems tonight. Claude's home was quickly filling up with his friends, quite a few of the models he used, and the adult party was getting underway.
Katy mingled with the guests, meeting old friends, listening to the gossip of the fashion world, the quite often bitchy comments, but more often funny ones. She danced and smiled and drank champagne, but as the clock passed midnight secretly she wished she could sneak off to her bedroom. But as Claude's hostess for the evening it wasn't possible.
It was after three when the final guest reluctantly departed, one of Claude's new models, a girl Katy had never seen before. She watched for a second the couple in a passionate clinch at the door, a wry smile curving her lips as she slowly made her way to the kitchen. Claude was incorrigible, she smiled softly to herself. A cup of coffee and bed was what she needed.
The coffee percolated, Katy poured herself a cup and sat down on the hard pine kitchen chair, propping her head up with one elbow on the table. She raised her eyes as the door swung open. 'So soon, Claude? Don't tell me you're losing your touch?' she joked.
'In deference to you, Katy, darling, I chased the girl off.' He helped himself to a cup of coffee and sat down opposite her. 'Jen is a very beautiful girl—lovely bone-structure, very photogenic—but unfortunately nothing between her ears, and any man between her legs.'
Katy choked on her coffee and burst out laughing. 'Claude, you are terrible!' she spluttered.
Dishonourable Proposal Page 13