House of Mirrors

by Yvonne Whittal

  “Nothing in particular.” She swallowed nervously. “I’m simply giving you the opportunity to call the whole thing off if you have any doubts about it.”

  His hands caressed her shoulders absently, his fingers slipping beneath the shoestring straps of her dress. “I want to marry you. Liz, but I’m not totally convinced that I’m being fair to you.”

  “You mean because of the way I feel about you?”

  “Precisely.”

  “You were honest with me, and honesty is all I shall ever ask of you,” she assured him, wondering if he knew how his feather-light caresses were affecting her pulse rate.

  “I had a feeling you would say that, but-“

  She silenced him with her fingers against his lips. “I know what I want and, if you’ll let me, I’ll do my best to make you happy.

  “You’re one of the most unselfish people I’ve ever met, and I hope I never take advantage of you because of it,” he said when she had removed her fingers, then he was kissing her with a mastery that shut out everything except the fire his lips kindled. He caressed her with a sensual slowness, his hands warm through the thinness of her dress, and they lingered briefly against the thrusting swell of her breasts before he put her aside gently. “Goodnight, Liz.” He murmured thickly, then he was getting into his car and driving away.

  For the second time in less than two months Liz was packing. She had gone out to Grant’s cottage the Friday morning, but that had been the last time she would see him until they met in church. The Saturday morning was hectic. There were so many last-minute things to pack before Angus transferred her belongings to High Ridges, and Liz was beginning to feel as if she had been caught unprepared in a bush fire.

  Through it all she wondered, “What is Grant doing? Is he as nervous as I am, or don’t men suffer from pre-wedding nerves?”

  “Is this the last?” Angus interrupted her thought when he entered her room and picked up the two suitcases she had placed beside the door. Perspiration glistened on his rugged face, and formed wide, damp patches on his shirt under the armpits, but his smile had not wavered once that morning.

  “That’s the lot,” Liz confirmed, her lance sweeping the room methodically.

  “What about that?” Angus queried, gesturing with his head towards her vanity case on the bed.

  “That will have to go with me.”

  “You’d better hurry, Angus,” Stacy interrupted, rushing into Liz’s room.

  “Don’t forget you still have to shower and change when you return from High Ridges.”

  There’s plenty of time, darling,” he grinned at her. “It’s only one-thirty now.”

  “That give us a little more than two hours,” Stacy wailed, and she literally pushed Angus on his way.

  A little more than two hours, Stacy’s words echoed through Liz’s mind when she found herself alone again. In a little more than two hours she would be Mrs. Grant Battersby, and she was not quite sure whether she ought to feel nervous, or afraid. At the moment she felt neither; she felt extraordinarily calm, and there was no need to wonder why. She was marrying the man she had loved almost all her life, and if that little quiver at the pit of her stomach had to be analysed, then she would attribute it to excitement at the knowledge that her most impossible dream had come true.

  Her glance travelled over the bright little room with its floral curtains.

  “Tonight I’ll be sleeping at Grant’s cottage, in his bed, in his arms, and…oh, God,” she prayed silently, “I don’t ever want to let him down in any way.”

  The hands of the clock on the bedside cupboard were reaching towards tow o’clock when Liz grabbed her sponge bag and towel, and hurried along the passage to the bathroom. She could hear Rosalie crying, demanding her feed before Stacy took her along to the neighbour who had offered to take care of her while everyone else was at the church, and moments later everything was quiet except for the sound of water running into the bath.

  Stacy came into Liz’s room later that afternoon when she was doing her make-up, and her grave brown eyes met Liz’s in the mirror. “This may be the only moment I’ll have to talk to you privately before the wedding.”

  “Don’t lecture me, Stacy,” Liz begged. “Not today, please.”

  “I don’t want to lecture you, darling,” Stacy smiled shakily. “I merely want you to know that, if you should need me, I’ll always be here.”

  “Oh, Stacy!” Liz blinked away her tears and, rising to her feet, she hugged her sister tightly. “I knew I could count on you, and …thank you!”

  Fifteen minutes later Angus was driving them to church, and Grant’s Jaguar was parked outside the grey stone building when they arrived. Liz felt really nervous for the first time that day. Her hands were shaking, and her insides were knotted so tightly that she doubted they would ever manage to unravel themselves again.

  Grant was in the foyer, and her heart somersaulted in her breast at the sight of him. He looked exceedingly handsome in a dark grey suit and matching tie, and his limp was barely noticeable when he walked towards them. Their hands met, and her nervousness evaporated like mist before the sun on that warm April afternoon when his eyes smiled down into hers.

  It was an unusual wedding with none of the usual ceremonies attached to it, but it was the most memorable day in Liz’s entire life. They were married quietly, with Angus and Stacy as the only witnesses to the occasion, and two large tears rolled down Liz’s cheeks when at last they stepped out into the sunshine. Grant pressed his handkerchief into her hands and, with an embarrassed laugh, she hastily repaired the damage before Angus and Stacy showered them unexpectedly with confetti.

  “I have champagne waiting for us at the hotel,” Grant announced, brushing the remaining traces of confetti off his immaculate suit. “We’ll meet you there in the lounge.”

  “We’ll understand if you take a wee bit of time getting there,” Angus teased as he and Stacy got into their car, and then Grant’s hand was beneath Liz’s elbow to guide her towards his Jaguar.

  Neither of them spoke when he drove away from the church, and neither did she question him when she realised that they were going in the opposite direction to the one Angus and Stacy had taken. A little distance out of town he turned off on to a quiet road, and parked the car in a shady spot used by travellers.

  “I had to have you to myself for a few minutes,” he said, taking off her hat and flinging it on to the back seat, then she was in his arms and he was kissing her with passionate intensity that made her senses whirl.

  When at last he eased his mouth from hers to nuzzle her throat, she was breathless and flushed, and not quite capable of thinking straight.

  “I needed that,” he groaned, and Liz admitted to herself silently that so had she.

  They headed back to Pietersburg a few minutes later to join Angus a few minutes later to join Angus and Stacy at the hotel for the champagne Grant had promised them, and Liz felt quite light-headed two hours later when she found herself alone once more with Grant, but he had yet another surprise in store for her. He had arranged for them to have dinner at a restaurant in town before going out to High Ridges and, when they faced each other across the small corner table with the candle flickering between them, Liz felt certain that everyone must have guessed that they had been married only a few hours. She felt flushed and happy, and she could not take her eyes off Grant. He was so incredibly good-looking, and he was her husband.

  They lingered over their meal, talking about whatever came to mind, and Liz continued to be totally oblivious of everyone else except Grant.

  “It’s been a long day,” he said much later when they were having their coffee.

  “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

  “Shall we go?”

  Her eyes met his across the table, and her smile was teasingly provocative. “I thought you’d never suggest it!”

  She heard him draw a sharp breath, then a devilish smile curved his mouth as he leaned towards her and caught her fi
ngers in his. “You’re a little witch,” he said through his teeth. “Let’s go.”

  Liz was amazed at herself for leading him on in that extraordinary manner, but she still felt lightheaded as a result of the amount of champagne she had consumed, and it definitely made her feel quite daring.

  Chapter 5

  Liz stared at the large bed with the headboard padded in brown leather, then she swung round towards the dressing-table to brush her corn-gold hair with unnecessary vigour. She was scared! Dammit, she was as scared as a cornered rabbit! And she looked it too, she decided when she stared at herself in the mirror.

  Her face was pale, her eyes wide and apprehensive and, underneath the lacy pink negligee which had been a gift from Stacy, her body quivered like a tautly strung violin.

  She was Grant’s wife, and the visible proof of his possession gleamed on the ring finger of her left hand. The plain gold wedding band with the unusual engagement ring felt heavy and unfamiliar as unfamiliar as the knowledge that from now on she would be sharing his bed, and his life. Did every bride feel like this on her wedding night? She wondered frantically. Was it natural to feel nervy and edgy, and a little afraid of the physical side of loving?

  The door opened unexpectedly, and she turned to see Grant standing there in a grey, patterned robe of expensive silk. She was conscious suddenly of several things at once; the anxious thudding of her heart, the transparency of her night attire, and an unmistakable flicker of desire in those steel-grey eyes when they slid over her with a slow sensuality that made her body feel heated with embarrassment. He closed the door behind him, almost as if he were shutting them off from the rest of the world, and the brush fell from her numb fingers to land with a thud at her fee. The sound jarred her nerves, but he caught her trembling hands in his before she could stoop to pick up the brush.

  “Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” he mocked her.

  This was not the time for pretence and, dragging her eyes from his hair-roughened chest above the V of his robe, she met his mocking glance and said unsteadily, “I am nervous.”

  “What was that provocative, come hither attitude in aid of then?” he demanded with a derisive twist to his mouth that made her shrink inwardly.

  “I’m not used to drinking so much champagne, and it made me feel more daring than usual.”

  “And now you’ve got cold feet.”

  The sneer in his voice hurt, and she dragged her hands free of his. “I’ve never slept with a man before,” she explained defensively.

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” he murmured, his expression softening slightly.

  “What if I disappoint you?” she voiced her fears at last.

  He raised a hand and trailed a lazy, seductive path along the column of her throat down towards the plunging neckline of her negligee. She almost stopped breathing when his finger dipped into that enchanting valley between her breasts, but his hand trailed upwards again, and his fingers finally came to rest against that little pulse at the base of her throat which was fluttering so madly.

  “You won’t disappoint me, Liz,” he announced in a deep, throaty voice that was in itself a caress.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  His mouth curved in a sensuous smile. “Perhaps I know you a great deal better than you think.”

  His fingers tugged at the satiny ribbon while he spoke, and her negligee parted to reveal an even flimsier garment beneath. Liz’s heart was beating in her throat, almost choking off her breath, and she felt certain that she was blushing form her toes up to her roots of her hair when his hands slid down her arms in a single caress which resulted in her negligee lying in a heap at her feet.

  “You’re shy,” Grant accused with a soft laugh as he observed her heightened colour. “I would never have believed it.”

  “Do-Do you think you could put out the light?” she stammered in her confusion and embarrassment.

  “If it will make you feel any better, then by all mean.”

  He moved away from her and flicked the switch beside the door. Blinded by the sudden darkness she stood there wishing that she could hide somewhere, but he was beside her in an instant, his warm mouth seeking and finding hers, and his hands sliding the strap of her nightdress off her shoulders so that it followed the path of her negligee.

  Nothing, not even the darkness, could protect her now from the sensually arousing touch of his hands as they acquainted themselves with her untutored body.

  She trembled, hovering between painful shyness and sublime ecstasy as every nerve and sinew seemed to come alive to his touch, but when his thumbs moved in an erotic caress against the taut, rosy peaks of her breasts, she locked her arms about his neck and surrendered herself to the exquisite sensations he was arousing within her.

  His hands slid down to her hips, drawing her closer to his robed body, but he muttered impatiently the next instant, and drew a little away from her to tug at his belt. His robe parted, and she was pulled inside. For the first time in her life her naked body became acquainted with the hard, muscled flesh of a virile man, but her faint gasp went unnoticed as Grant buried his lips against the soft warmth of her throat before seeking her quivering mouth.

  Liz was lost, and she found herself responding in an unfamiliar torrent of passion which seemed to burst forth inside her like a primitive being breaking the chains of its long captivity. She could no longer think coherently, only feel, and she had a curious sensation that she was floating before she felt the coolness of the bed beneath her and realised that he had lifted her on to it.

  “Grant?” she groaned, a flicker of uncertainty invading this strange paradise as he shrugged himself out of his robe before joining her on the bed and drawing her once again into the curve of his body.

  “Hm…?” he murmured absently, his sensual mouth exploring the curve of her breast, and the intimacy of his caress aroused a sweet stab of desire she had never known before.

  “Oh, Grant, I love you!” the words spilled from her lips, then she surrendered herself completely to his passionate demands.

  When Liz stirred and opened her eyes the following morning it took her several startled seconds to realise where she was. She was alone in Grant’s bed, but she had spent most of the night in his arms, with his heavy thigh flung across her own and his arm about her waist as if he had been afraid she would slip away from him.

  The memory of what had occurred between them still had the power to make her blush. There was not an inch of her body he had not acquainted himself with the night before. He had, she realised, been frighteningly thorough in breaking down her reserve, and she had responded to his intimate caresses until she had been aflame with desire and an aching need to be closer to him still. Never, not by the wildest stretch of her imagination, could she have known what would follow. Her body had become an instrument of pleasure; his pleasure and her own, and together they had climbed the heights towards and exquisite release which had left her shattered and amazed at the intensity of the feelings she had not known she possessed.

  Thinking of it now it now it filled her with awe and wonder, and a melting warmth invaded her body when she recalled his tender caresses in the aftermath of their passion. Her shyness temporarily forgotten, she had gone to sleep with her head on his shoulder, and the steady beat of his heart comfortingly beneath her ear.

  Liz stretched and yawned, but one glance at the clock on the bedside cupboard made her leap out of bed. It was eight-thirty. She had slept much too late, and … hell, she had nothing on! She snatched the sheet about her, but a second later she was laughing at herself. There was no one to witness her nakedness except the whitewashed walls and, dropping the sheet, she crossed the room and rummaged in one of her suitcases until she found her old cotton housecoat. She still had to unpack, but she could do that later, and she wrapped her housecoat about her as she went through to the bathroom across the passage from the bedroom.

  A half hour later, bathed and dressed in beige slacks and an emerald green b
louse, Liz invaded the kitchen, and prepared a belated breakfast. She was popping two slices of bread into the toaster when tanned, hair-roughened arms slipped about her waist, and she jumped with fright.

  “Must you come in so silently and scare the living daylights out of me?” she rebuked him laughingly, turning in his arms and raising her face to his in a silent invitation which he did not ignore.

  He kissed her lingeringly as if he were savouring the taste of her mouth, and when at last he raised his head she found herself confronted by a wicked gleam in his eyes.

  “Did you have pleasant dreams?” he asked.

  “I didn’t dream at all,” she confessed. “I slept as if someone had knocked me over the head with a sledgehammer.”

  “Was I that rough with you?”

  The mockery in his eyes sent the blood surging into her cheeks, and she buried her face against his chest. “Don’t tease,” she begged.

  “Your shyness fascinates me,” he laughed, prising her face out into the open. “You’ve hidden it well behind your sharp-tongued exterior.”

  “Well, now you know.”

  “Yes, now I know.” Grant’s mouth curved sensually, and his eyes lingered on her flushed cheeks and quivering mouth. “I also made several other interesting discoveries about you.”

  “The toast!” she protested, trying to escape from him when she heard the bread pop out of the toaster, but his arms merely tightened about her.

  “It can wait,” he said, and his mouth descended to silence whatever protests she might still have wanted to make.

  Her resistance fled, and she melted against him, yielding to the magic of his lips and hands while she tried to make herself believe that he loved her as much as she loved him.

  The toast was cold when he eventually released her, and the omelettes had become a little leathery, but Grant did not complain, and Liz was too happy to care what she was eating.

  “It’s a lovely day,” said Grant when she poured his coffee. “What about packing a picnic lunch and going for a long walk with me along the river. I must have plenty of exercise, you know.” He smiled at her wickedly. “Doctor’s order.”