A Trial Marriage

by Anne Mather

  The traffic was not so thick as when they started out, and Rachel negotiated the seemingly never-ending stream of traffic signals without incident. She was forced to swerve now and again to avoid jay-walking pedestrians, making their way home after an evening at the pub, and the occasional dog darted in front of them, but generally speaking she made good time, and within thirty minutes they were surmounting the ramp which led into the underground car park below the apartments.

  Jake got out of the car slowly, and regarded her across its low bonnet with reluctant admiration. ‘Very good,’ he said. ‘Most efficient. If I ever need a chauffeur, I shall know where to look, shan’t I?’

  Rachel, who knew Madigan acted as chauffeur when necessary, raised her dark eyebrows. Relief at not having damaged the expensive vehicle was going to her head, and she answered recklessly: ‘I’d rather be your mistress than your chauffeur, darling!’ and saw the way his knuckles stood out whitely against the brown skin of the hand gripping the top of the car door. Without answering her, he slammed it shut, leaving her to lock it while he strode away towards the lifts.

  The journey up to the apartment was accomplished in silence and she preceded him into the living room rather awkwardly. A white-railed landing divided the room into its two levels, the whole carpeted in shades of blue and gold. Parker-Knoll loungers and creamy velvet sofas created an oasis of comfort, and beyond, a circular oak dining table and chairs, set by the long windows, gave a magnificent view over the rooftops of London.

  A square heavy glass table stood on the hearth before an ornamental stone fireplace, and Rachel moved towards this, picking up a magazine she found there, and flicking through it with obviously nervous movements. She heard Jake close and secure the door behind them, and presently, the tread of his feet on the soft carpet.

  She glanced up to find him loosening his coat, and his eyes flickered impatiently away from hers. ‘I’m going to bed,’ he said abruptly. ‘If you want anything else, ring for Mrs Madigan.’

  Rachel held the magazine open in her hands, looking at him over the pages. ‘She’ll be in bed, won’t she?’ she exclaimed. ‘I shouldn’t dream of disturbing her at this time of night.’ She paused, faint colour entering her cheeks once more. ‘Is there anything you need?’

  Jake shook his head, and turned away, walking towards the door which led to the hall which in turn gave access to the bedrooms. ‘I’ll say goodnight, then,’ he added briefly, and left the room.

  When he had gone, Rachel threw the magazine she was holding down on the table again, and stared impotently towards the door which Jake had just closed behind him. He had gone to bed, just like that, without even waiting for her to go to her own room.

  She thrust her hands angrily into her pockets, and as she did so her fingers encountered the soft fur of the sable coat. It was a beautiful coat, she thought reluctantly, running her fingers up over the lapels. So smooth and silky; it had a sensuous appeal. She looked again at the closed door, and then, as if coming to a decision, she walked swiftly towards it.

  Her bedroom had white walls, a fluffy white carpet, and a white bedspread; shades of cold virginity, she thought now, with sudden insight. The only relief came in the curtains which were threaded with strands of blue and lilac, and hung from floor to ceiling. The adjoining bathroom continued the design, with tiny blue and lilac roses patterned on the tiles which until now Rachel had found quite charming. But tonight she was disturbed and restless, and time had become her enemy, not her friend, making her fight against the core of practical good sense inside her that told her to forget what she was thinking, and like the ostrich, bury her anxieties.

  Turning on the shower, she stripped off all her clothes, dropping them carelessly on to the floor. She deliberately ran the water cold, and bundling her hair inside a cap, stepped under the chilling spray. But the invigorating globules were like needles against her skin, so that when she turned off the water and began to dry herself, sensuous warmth flooded her body.

  She tugged off the shower cap and gathering up her clothes, walked naked into the bedroom. She dumped most of the things unceremoniously on to a chair, but she retained her hold on the sables, and on impulse put the coat on again. It swung against her bare legs, arousing a not unpleasant tickling sensation, and she twisted and turned before the long mirrors of her wardrobe unit, wrapping the coat closely about her as she had seen models do in fashion shows.

  Then, trembling slightly, she turned towards the door again. Dare she go through with it? she asked herself desperately, the tightness of her throat almost choking her. Dare she go to his room and offer herself to him like some woman of pleasure?

  She took a few tentative steps across the curling pile of the carpet, and then halted abruptly. What could she say? What excuse could she give for going to his room? To return the coat? No. That wasn’t at all plausible—particularly in the circumstances. What, then? Could she pretend to having heard him call? Dare she suggest she had been concerned about him after he had admitted to drinking too much?

  It all sounded far too contrived. Jake would never believe her motives were anything other than calculated. But this might be her only chance, she thought despairingly, even if he was not drunk enough to take what she said at its face value. Yet she had not mistaken the involuntary passion she had glimpsed in his eyes down in the car park. He was not indifferent to her, after all; he had never pretended to be. Surely he would not turn her away.

  Her lids dropped as other emotions prickled on her skin. How could she contemplate so dispassionately something which mothers had been warning their daughters about for years? She was married, it was true, but she didn’t feel married, and married people didn’t behave as she and Jake were behaving. She had given little actual thought to the culmination of her plans, and now her eyes opened wide in half-fearful anticipation. What if she found she couldn’t go through with it? What if she froze up on him as she had heard could sometimes happen? How humiliating that would be!

  Dejectedly, she turned back to face the room again. What was the use? she thought glumly. She was simply not up to it. She was not sufficiently sure of herself—or him—to play the role of seductress.

  So intent was she on her own condemnation that she paid little attention to the first knocking at her door when it came. It was not until it happened a second time, accompanied by Jake’s imperative: ‘Rachel!’ that she realised what was happening.

  Spinning round on her heels, she hurried to the door and opened it, holding the soft furs closely about her. Jake was leaning against the wall outside. Only once before had she seen him without his clothes, and that was on the first occasion she had visited the Priory, when she had gone with him to his rooms while he changed. But tonight he was not wearing a bathrobe, just white silk pyjama trousers, that hung low on his hips and outlined the dark skin beneath. He must have taken a shower, too, because his head was damp, and tiny drops of moisture curled the fine hair covering his chest down to his navel. She could see the hard bones of his rib-cage, and the flatness of his stomach, and her senses tingled expectantly.

  Jake surveyed her broodingly for a few moments, and she was sure he had not missed the fact of her bare legs below the sable coat. Then he said curtly: ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but do you have any aspirin? I’ve got a lousy headache now, and Mrs Madigan doesn’t appear to have provided anything like that.’

  ‘Oh!’ Rachel realised she had been holding her breath and expelled it unsteadily. Then she glanced behind her. ‘I—I may have. Will you …’ She turned to look at him uncertainly. ‘Will you come in for a minute?’

  Jake hesitated only briefly, and then straightened away from the wall. He stepped into her bedroom with evident reluctance, and Rachel left him to hurry across to where she had dropped her handbag. She knew she had a small bottle of aspirin tablets somewhere, but her fingers were all thumbs, and it wasn’t easy, trying to maintain a firm hold on the sable coat.

  ‘You weren’t in bed?’ he asked, glancing
at the untouched pillows, and she shook her head.

  ‘No, I—I’d been taking a shower. Like—like you.’

  Jake looked round the room as if reminding himself of its appointments. ‘I don’t often get headaches. At least, I didn’t until recently.’

  Rachel looked up, forcing a sympathetic smile. This was her opportunity, a small voice inside her was exhorting. Why didn’t she take advantage of it?

  But it was no use. As soon as her eyes encountered the cool appraisal of his, she was forced to look away, unable to maintain a matching indifference.

  At last she found the tablets, hidden away at the bottom of the bag, and she brought them out triumphantly and showed them to him. ‘I thought I had some,’ she said, putting down her bag again and holding out the bottle. ‘Take them. I can easily get some more.’

  ‘Thanks.’ His fingers touched hers lightly as he took the bottle. ‘I’ll get Mrs Madigan to stock up. Who knows when I might need them again?’

  Rachel followed him to the door, her pulses an almost audible hammering in her ears. The brown expanse of his back was a palpable temptation, and she had to push her hands inside the sleeves of the coat to prevent herself from touching him.

  He turned in the open doorway. ‘Goodnight again, then.’

  His eyes were briefly gentle, and all thought of caution took wings. ‘Jake,’ she whispered recklessly, her tongue probing her upper lip. ‘Jake—don’t go!’

  She stretched out a hand to grasp his arm, but the hard muscle she touched was taut and unyielding. She looked up at him desperately, willing him to show some compassion, but the gentleness in his expression had dissolved as swiftly as it had appeared. Her spirits reached their lowest ebb when his free hand came to release her clinging fingers.

  ‘Rachel.’ His tone was half tolerant, but he shook his head. ‘Rachel, be sensible.’

  ‘I don’t want to be sensible,’ she protested huskily, moving closer to him, and felt the involuntary shudder that passed through him. ‘Jake—love me!’

  Jake looked wearily towards the ceiling. ‘Rachel, let me go. You’ll regret this as much as I will in the morning.’

  ‘No, I won’t.’ She pressed even closer, and stepping back he came up against the door jamb behind him so that the muscles of his legs were tangible even through the thickness of her coat.

  The warm scent of her body rose into his nostrils to mingle with the musky scent of his own, and he looked down at her with eyes that revealed the torment he was fighting. ‘What are you wearing under this?’ he demanded harshly, and almost of their own volition, his hands parted the skins to reveal the rose-tinted flesh beneath.

  He stared down at her silently for several seconds, his breath coming more quickly, and then, with an oath, he gathered her yielding body close against him, his hands sliding naturally beneath the weight of the sables.

  ‘Is this what you really want?’ he asked thickly, burying his face in the curve of her neck, and she allowed the coat to fall unheeded to the floor as she wound her slim arms around his neck.

  ‘Really, really,’ she breathed, and he propelled her inside the door again and slammed it closed with his foot.

  It was ecstasy feeling the closeness of their bodies, and when his hands slid down to her hips, pressing her intimately against him, she trembled with a hunger she hardly understood.

  ‘Just hold me there,’ she murmured, as his mouth played with hers. ‘It feels so good …’

  Jake smothered a groan. ‘I know something that feels even better,’ he said, his tongue stroking her lips apart. ‘Shall we go to bed?’

  Rachel lay awake, dry-eyed, long after Jake’s breathing had become deep and steady. Turned on to her side away from him, she relived the events of the past hour and tried to find some meaning to it all. So what was all the fuss about? she asked herself half resentfully, feeling a deep sense of disappointment at the thought. She could hardly remember what it was that had driven her to act the way she had, or why it had seemed so important at the time.

  Yet she had wanted him, to be possessed by him; and she did love him. That much was certain. But she had expected something else. Certainly he had aroused feelings inside her which had made her lose all control for a time, but the dénouement had not been an enjoyable experience. Indeed, she had fought him all the way, and the pain she had suffered was still uppermost in her mind.

  Still, she was a married woman now, she thought wryly, in every sense of the word, and if what had occurred had pleased him, then she should be content. But she wasn’t. Somehow she wanted more; which seemed ridiculous when she was lying here aching in every limb. How could she contemplate another assault upon her body with anything other than aversion? And yet, turning to look at Jake, his lean, intelligent features relaxed in sleep, she knew she would do anything which might bring them closer together, no matter how unpleasant she might find it.

  She fell asleep eventually, but she awakened in those dark hours before dawn to the awareness of a heavy weight lying across her. She shifted on to her back and found that Jake had moved to her side of the bed, his face turned into her neck, imprisoning the tawny-gold disorder of her hair, his arm lying across her rib-cage securing her closely into the curve of his stomach.

  A curious lethargy enveloped her at the realisation of his nearness, and she stretched sinuously, arching her body as the emotions he had evoked the night before returned to torment her.

  Her movements disturbed Jake, and in the half light that filtered through the curtains she saw his eyelids flicker, and the dark lashes sweep upward.

  ‘Rachel?’ he murmured, half questioningly, and she nodded and wriggled closer to him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she confessed softly. ‘I woke you,’ and his eyes narrowed as with returning consciousness he became aware of her slender form beside his beneath the silk covers.

  ‘I slept here?’ he probed, then, half to himself: ‘Of course I did. I remember.’ He rolled on to his back, putting both hands to the back of his neck. ‘God, I remember!’ He turned back on to his side and stared at her anxiously: ‘I hurt you. I’m the one who should be sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be.’ She was eager to reassure him. ‘I—I—it was my fault. I asked you to stay. I wanted you to. Please—don’t be angry.’

  ‘Angry? God!’ His hand touched her almost as if he couldn’t prevent himself, sliding up over the fullness of her breast to close around the hollow of her throat. ‘I’m not angry—not with you anyway. But this is what happens when a man can’t hold his liquor!’ he derided himself harshly.

  Rachel felt as if he had slapped her. ‘I—I see,’ she got out chokingly. ‘That—that was all it was, was it?’

  His mouth hardened. ‘Do you think I’d have hurt you otherwise? There are gentler ways of going about it. My God, I must have behaved like an animal!’

  Rachel licked her dry lips. ‘It doesn’t matter——’

  ‘But it does!’ He spoke fiercely. ‘It should never have happened. But even looking at you now, I could——’ He broke off savagely. ‘You must have one hell of an opinion of me.’

  ‘It’s over …’

  ‘Is it?’ His hand moved down again to caress her with increasing insistence. ‘What do you know about it?’

  Rachel trembled, reaching to stay his hand when it strayed down over her stomach. ‘I—I know I’m inexperienced. You told me that before.’

  His eyes held hers. ‘You don’t want me to touch you any more, is that it?’

  ‘Oh, no—no!’ Rachel shook her head urgently. ‘Only you don’t have to feel sorry for me just because you took what was rightfully yours to take.’

  ‘Oh, Rachel, Rachel!’ With a groan, he moved closer to her again, and she could feel the hard length of him stirring against her. ‘Do you think that’s what I did? Took what was rightfully mine, I mean? I wanted you—I want you now! But this is not the way I planned it …’

  ‘Some—sometimes things don’t go—just the way we planned,’ stammer
ed Rachel, unable to prevent the trembling sensation that was sweeping over her, and his mouth twisted sensually as he lowered it to hers.

  ‘No, they don’t, do they?’ he breathed into her mouth, a sound of reluctant urgency escaping him, and her lips opened willingly like the petals of a blossom burned by the heat of the sun …

  When Rachel opened her eyes, a watery sun was streaming through the curtains, painting the room in a pastel light. For a brief spell she lay there blinking in the brightness, unwilling to stir, but then consciousness and recollection brought a bemused smile to her lips. She turned her head sideways on the pillow, but she was alone in the big bed, although the tumbled pillows and the masculine tang of the sheets confirmed that Jake had not long left them.

  She sighed sleepily, stretching her arms above her head. Her fears and frustrations of the night before seemed far away now when she recalled the events that followed, and the pain and disappointment had been erased by much more satisfying experiences.

  In those dark early morning hours, Jake had made love to her again, and this time she had been as eager as he, prepared to bear anything to stay in his arms. But what had begun with apprehension had turned to perception, and then she had been lost in the demands of her own senses. She had scaled the heights with him, shared the tender aftermath, and learned what loving was all about.

  Feeling the sensuous brush of the silk sheets against her breasts, she realised she was naked in the bed, and suppressing the smile which seemed determined to tilt the corners of her mouth, she swung her feet to the floor. What time was it? And where was Jake? Had he left for his office? Had he left her any message? How would she exist through the day until she could be with him again?

  It was later than she thought, after ten o’clock, and she went quickly into the bathroom to take a shower. Her toes encountered something hard on the carpet, and bending, she picked up the bottle of aspirin tablets she had given Jake the night before. Her cheeks dimpled. He had not taken any after all …