by Penny Jordan
Tonight her father was taking them both out to dinner—a farewell celebration, if celebration was the right word, Somer thought despairingly.
They were dining at a new restaurant-cum-nightclub which they had recently opened, and she would much rather have not gone. For one thing she had nothing really suitable to wear. Sighing she got up off the floor and dusted down the knees of her jeans.
‘I’d better be on my way.’
‘Yes, you don’t want to be late tonight. You’re working far too hard,’ Mrs McCleod added. ‘You’ve lost weight since you got married—normally it’s the other way round.’
Escaping before she could ask any difficult questions Somer drove slowly homewards.
The first thing she noticed when she reached the house was Chase’s car parked outside. As she slid out of her Mercedes her heart started to thud uncomfortably. It was unusual for Chase to be home so early, but surely no reason for her to start reacting like an adolescent carrying the burden of an impossible crush? But emotionally she was still an adolescent, she told herself bitterly.
None of her inner turmoil showed when she walked into the drawing-room. Chase was pouring himself a drink and looked up incuriously as she walked in.
‘You’re home early.’ How banal and meaningless their conversation was, Somer thought wearily; they were two strangers forced to live in unwanted intimacy and the wear on her nerves made her wonder how on earth she was going to endure the twelve-month sentence. Of course it was worse for her. Since she couldn’t even look at Chase without yearning to feel the hard warmth of his mouth possessing hers, and the heat of his body caressing hers with love and not merely physical desire, she had stopped looking directly at him, and instead addressed her comments to the middle distance, politely averting her eyes. But not before they had treacherously registered every single detail of his appearance, from the dark crispness of his hair to the business suit he was wearing. As she turned round he shrugged off his jacket, throwing it casually across one of the chairs. Beneath the fine silk of his shirt Somer could see the fluid play of his muscles. Every movement he made possessed a lean grace that made her ache with suppressed love. She wanted to go up to him and run her fingers along the contour of his spine; to have the right to slide her palms inside his shirt and feel the fierce pounding of his heart accelerate at her touch.
‘Come back, you were miles away.’ The harsh command broke into her dream. ‘Stop thinking about him,’ he continued coolly, ‘it won’t do any good.’
‘What makes you think that…?’
His mouth curled sardonically. ‘If you’d seen your own reflection you’d know why. You looked like a woman who was thinking of her lover.’ He watched the colour come and go in her face and there was an unmistakable edge of anger to his voice as he said curtly, ‘I’m home early because we’re dining with your father, talking of which, isn’t it time you went and got ready?’
He hadn’t even offered her a drink, Somer thought bitterly as she closed the drawing-room door behind her. She didn’t know what she had expected from their enforced marriage, but it hadn’t been this emptiness…this hollow, lonely life with a husband in name only who was exactly that and nothing more.
The first thing she saw when she walked into her bedroom was the box on the bed. Frowning she walked over to it, noting the name of an exclusive Knightsbridge shop printed on the side. The shop was one she knew by repute only, being far too fashionable and expensive for her to patronise, but the name written on the lid was definitely her own. Curiously she removed it, searching through the swathes of tissue paper in which its contents were carefully packed.
The dress she eventually removed from the box made her catch her breath in startled disbelief. In a deeply dense sapphire blue the silk jersey was cut in a style she would never in a million years have chosen herself.
‘Why don’t you try it on?’
Somer spun round, staring white-faced at the communicating door that linked her room to Chase’s. Ever since their arrival at the house she had kept it locked and retained the key. It had never occurred to her that Chase might have his own key, but evidently he had, and he had used it too.
‘I didn’t order it. There must be some mistake.’ She turned away disdainfully, dropping the sapphire jersey in a pool on her bed.
‘No mistake.’ With half a dozen easy strides Chase reached the bed, retrieving the maltreated dress. ‘Put it on, Somer, I want to see if it fits.’
‘You bought it?’
‘Don’t look so shocked.’ His mouth twisted with sardonic amusement. ‘It is quite acceptable for a man to buy his wife clothes, indeed some women seem to believe it’s a husband’s primary function in life.’
‘I won’t wear it. I don’t like it.’
‘You will and I do,’ Chase corrected inexorably.
‘I don’t need a new evening dress. I have plenty.’
‘All of them as dull as ditchwater. They might have been suitable for the daughter of Sir Duncan MacDonald, but they aren’t suitable for my wife.’
‘Then I suggest you find yourself a new wife,’ Somer bit out furiously, ‘because I am not wearing that dress.’
‘Oh yes, you are,’ Chase told her softly, ‘even if I have to dress you in it myself.’
Tears stung her eyes as she turned away from him. What was he trying to do? Turn her into the sort of glamorous model-girl type he preferred?
Without risking another look at him Somer picked up the dress, and still keeping her back to him, rummaged through her drawers for clean underwear. When she did turn round Chase was standing by the communicating door, arms folded across his chest, his stance one of relaxed determination. As she slammed her bathroom door behind her and locked it, Somer glared defeatedly at the sapphire jersey. Most women would be only too thrilled to change places with her; most women in her place loving Chase as she did would be doing everything they could to turn the situation to their advantage; using their enforced intimacy to promote an even greater intimacy, but she wasn’t like that; she couldn’t take the initiative; couldn’t bear to allow Chase to so much as begin to suspect how she felt in case he rejected her again.
As she slid the silky fabric over her body she tried not to look at her reflection, but one wall of the bathroom was completely mirrored and seeing herself was unavoidable. The silk jersey clung seductively to her body, the long sleeves and high boat-shaped neck a demure contrast to the deeply plunging back. The straight skirt clung to her legs, the diamanté embroidery on the front of the dress flashing sparks of firelight with every movement she made.
As though he had been waiting for her, when she emerged from the bathroom, Chase came to lean against the now open communicating door, dressed only in a brief towelling robe, his hair still damp from his shower, the robe revealing a tormenting vee of flesh at his throat forcing Somer to battle against her urgent desire to go up to him and taste the cool male skin.
Indeed so total was her absorption in battling against her overpowering response to him that Somer was barely aware of Chase studying her until he said carelessly, ‘It suits you, but you’ll need these to wear with it.’ He handed her a pair of silk stockings in the same deep sapphire as the dress, ‘and these…’
Somer hadn’t seen the small velvet box in his hand and she winced as he opened it and she caught the bright dazzle of diamonds.
‘Come here.’
She stopped a yard away from him, tensing when his fingers curled round her wrist, tugging her closer.
‘That’s better.’
Somer just caught the deep blue and white fireflash of diamonds and sapphires as he lifted one of a pair of sapphire and diamond-drop earrings from its bed of velvet.
While Somer stared, mesmerised at the brilliant stones, Chase swept back her hair and carefully fastened the earring in place.
‘Chase, I…’ Somer’s throat ached with unshed tears, although quite why she would want to cry she couldn’t understand. She stepped back awkwardly, anxio
us to put some space between them. This close to Chase’s body, her senses were rioting tumultuously out of control.
‘Thank you,’ she said formally at last, when she felt she was in control of her breathing. ‘Of course I’ll return them to you when…when our marriage is over.’
For some reason her words angered Chase. A white line of temper circled his mouth, his eyes flat and hard. ‘It’s all right, Somer,’ he told her harshly. ‘You’ve already made it more than plain how little you want from me, but you must remember that a man has his pride. If I allowed you to go out wearing one of those dowdy garments that pass for your idea of an evening dress, I doubt if anyone would believe in the fiction of our marriage.’
When he saw her frown, he said harshly, ‘A woman in love with her husband wants to dress to please him; to entice him, not to freeze him off,’ he explained tersely. ‘But then you aren’t a woman, are you, Somer, you’re a child still who puts her emotions and responses into cold storage because…’
On unsteady legs Somer bolted for her bathroom, just managing to suppress her tears until she got there. Dashing them away angrily with the back of her hand she forced herself to concentrate on the task of applying her makeup. So Chase thought she was dowdy, did he? Angrily she found a deep-blue eyeshadow to match her dress, applying it with quick sure strokes. A touch of blusher enhanced the pink flush along her cheek bones, mascara thickening and darkening her naturally long lashes. A deep-rose lip-gloss completed her preparations and Somer stared at her reflection for a few minutes, half surprised herself by the transformation. Gone was her normally cool and remote facade and in its place was the reflection of a woman she barely recognised, but who somehow looked warmer and, yes, much more physically responsive than the image she normally projected.
In order to show off her new earrings to their best advantage Somer piled her dark hair up in a soft cloud of curls. Finally ready she stepped back into her room and into a pair of delicate high-heeled shoes. Several tendrils of hair had escaped and she was just about to pin them up when Chase walked in. Somer caught her breath as their eyes met in her mirror.
‘Leave them,’ Chase ordered softly, pulling her fingers away from her hair. ‘I like it as it is…’
‘But it’s so…untidy…’
‘Not untidy, just feminine and approachable. As though we’ve spent the evening in bed and you had to get ready in a hurry.’
He watched her flush and laughed bitterly. ‘I’m already well aware that the thought of my lovemaking fills you with distaste, but you’ll have to forgive my small vanity in not wanting anyone else to be aware of it. I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes.’
He was gone before she could make any retort. Somehow it had never occurred to her that Chase could be vulnerable—somehow she had never equated such a human weakness with the man she had remembered him to be. But that man had never really existed, she reminded herself. He had been magnified out of all proportion by her own mind. The real Chase was weak and greedy; otherwise why would he have blackmailed her into this marriage? And yet despite everything she still loved him. That to Somer was the most unbelievable thing of all.
When she went downstairs he was pouring himself another drink. He smiled bitterly when he saw her check.
‘No need to worry, my lovely wife, I’m not about to get drunk and disgrace you. What a pity Hollister can’t see you now. How much he would regret his marriage to Judith, if he could, or is he already regretting it, Somer?’
‘Everyone’s entitled to one mistake.’ Somer wasn’t sure why she had said that. She had known instinctively before the words were uttered what Chase’s reaction would be and she had been right.
‘One mistake?’ he sneered. ‘Is that how you see it? Well, let’s get one thing clear here and now, for just as long as you’re married to me there’ll be no pardon from you for that mistake, is that understood?’
‘You may lie and cheat to get what you want out of life, Chase,’ Somer retorted coldly, ‘but I don’t.’
For once she seemed to have the last word, although she couldn’t help noticing that Chase’s jade eyes glittered like obsidian as he watched her progress towards the door.
That evening was every bit as bad as Somer had anticipated it being, although she tried bravely to hide her feelings from her father. On reaching their destination they were shown to a discreet half-hidden table, the decor of the restaurant plainly geared for the privacy and delight of lovers rather than more prosaic diners.
While Somer sat in silent misery her father and Chase talked amicably; two men with interests in common and a shared level of intelligence who seemed to have forgotten that there was a third member of their trio.
‘And what about you, Somer?’ her father asked, suddenly seeming to remember that she was there. ‘What are your plans for the future? Will you keep on with your computer programming or does Chase have other plans in mind?’ Sir Duncan’s eyes twinkled over his last comment and Somer knew he was thinking of the potential grandchilren he was no doubt confident they would provide him with.
‘I hope Somer will continue with her work for as long as she wishes,’ Chase answered for her promptly, half surprising her with his vehemence. When Sir Duncan raised his eyebrows slightly he explained, ‘I’ve seen far too many intelligent women become bored and frustrated wives, sublimating their talents to those of their husbands, to want to see Somer doing the same thing, although I must admit I am fortunate in that she can work from home, but I never want her to feel that her own needs and desire for mental stimulation and fulfilment come second to mine.’
‘Mmm, a rather unusual view,’ Sir Duncan commented. ‘In my day when a woman married, her husband, and then her children became her career.’
‘Because they had very little choice,’ Somer put in. ‘Nowadays women do have a choice.’
‘Some women,’ Chase interrupted drily. ‘There are women for whom nothing has changed—they have always had to work, when work is available, to supplement the family income, and I think, if asked, many of them would be more than happy to exchange the factory or sewing-shop floor for their own homes, and the opportunity to work now, for a large proportion of women, is not so much a choice as a necessity.’
‘What do you say to that, Somer?’ her father asked jovially, watching her teasingly.
‘I think a lot of what Chase says is true,’ she said slowly, picking her words with care. ‘It must be heartbreaking for a woman with a small child to have to go out to work, when she would prefer not to, because her financial contribution to the household is needed. I think when people talk about the right of women to work; to share the mental stimulation of their men’s lives, they forget that for both sexes there are many jobs which are dull and boring, simply a means of earning a living. Of course added to that there is always an added strain on a woman, torn between wanting to be with her children, and knowing that she can’t be, even when she has chosen to work for non-financial reasons.’
‘You’d want to be an ‘‘at-home’’ mother to your children then?’ Chase asked her, watching her closely.
‘Yes, I think I would. I should want to watch and enjoy their first few years at least and…’
‘I think this conversation is becoming far too profound,’ Sir Duncan broke in, ‘and with no particular relevance at present, unless of course…?’
‘No, I want Somer to myself for at least the first year of our marriage,’ Chase answered, completely unembarrassed by her father’s delicate probing. But then why should he be embarrassed, Somer asked herself bitterly. Chase knew there was no chance of them having a child. The admission was almost a physical ache inside her.
Just as they were finishing their meal the small band struck up and couples began to fill the dance floor. The music was unashamedly romantic and the sight of the closely entwined bodies of the dancers, lost in private worlds of their own, sharpened Somer’s heartache.
‘Why don’t you two go and dance?’ Sir Duncan suggested
. ‘Ignore her, Chase,’ he chuckled, when Somer objected hurriedly to his remark. ‘She’s just being polite in pretending she’d prefer to stay here with me. I’ve seen the way she’s been eyeing the dance floor for the last five minutes.’
Somer knew she was blushing hotly, and that her father no doubt thought her embarrassment sprang from her newly married status, but Chase, what did he think? She darted a quick glance at him as he stood up, his fingers cupping her elbow, guiding her through the semi-darkness with what would pass to outsiders at least as husbandly concern. Even in the half-light she could see the tight, held-in anger, tautening the skin over the bones of his face, and she flinched back automatically as he pulled her into his arms.
‘Your father’s watching us,’ he grated against her temple. ‘Do you want him to guess the truth?’
When she didn’t reply, his hand moved along her spine, pressing her tense body into the hardness of his, forcing her along the length of his body, until she was aware of every unyielding muscle.
‘We’re only just married,’ he murmured mockingly, ‘and we’re very much in love.’ His fingers slid round the back of her neck, his thumb stroking the delicate skin behind her ear. Somer reacted as though she had been stung, fighting to suppress the immediate excited leap of her pulses, her eyes as brilliant as the sapphires suspended from her ears as she stared up to meet the mockery of Chase’s green ones.
Sharp emotion trembled through her. She opened her mouth to beg Chase to stop tormenting her and then all coherent thoughts fled melting away beneath the warmly insistent pressure of Chase’s mouth on hers. There wasn’t time to take evasive action or resist. Her lips parted in mute submission, her senses responding to the seductive heat of his mouth with famished hunger. Somer forgot that they were in the middle of a dance floor; that her father was seated nearby; that Chase did not love her as she loved him; and gave herself up completely to his touch, loving the strength of hands that moulded her to his length, urging her to take pleasure from the intimate contact of their bodies.