by Margaret Way
'You aren't afraid of me, are you?' he asked suddenly.
'How could I be?' Brooke said helplessly. 'You're my husband. I trust you.'
'Then turn to me, mia cara! '
She closed her eyes and felt his strong hands on her shoulders. 'What are you nerving yourself for?' he asked a little curtly. 'Do you expect me to ravish you like the barbarian you once called me?'
'No, Paul.' she said softly.
'Then open your eyes.'
She did so and saw the sparkle had melted to black velvet. She had always considered herself a very modern young woman, but she could see now that she was very young and inexperienced. There was a big gap between them in temperament and behaviour and she was as ignorant of unleashed emotion as Paul was master of it. She was trembling under his hands, but she tried to keep her gaze steady, her golden-green eyes enormous in her overwrought face.
He touched a finger to her quivering mouth and , smiled. 'I have a present for my wife.' he said gently. 'It has been an exalted day for me, little one. Do not spoil it. In a moment you may sleep. My room is yours and I will use the guestroom.'
There were tears in her eyes and quickly she blinked them away. 'I have something for you too, but I'm afraid I've forgotten it. Everything seemed to go-out of my head.'
'No matter!' he said lightly. 'Naturally I expect you to give it to me again. I shall treasure it.'
'But you don't even know what it is!'
'You are giving it to me, aren't you?' he said meaningfully.
Brooke moved to the centre 'of the room while he walked away to a wall safe concealed behind a large abstract painting. It was so quiet in the room she could hear the wild beat of her heart. The magnolia satin of her wedding dress was gleaming in the light and she touched it in wonderment, scarcely able to comprehend the events of the day. Paul was walking back to her holding a large flat black velvet box. 'These bear the superb name of Cartier. I wanted nothing ordinary for you! '
In front of her dazzled eyes he opened the box and took a necklace and matching earrings into his hand, allowing the light to catch the stones in all their brilliance, diamonds and emeralds set in yellow gold and platinum. 'Beautiful, aren't they?' he murmured, because she seemed to be hypnotised by the glitter.
Her trembling was something she couldn't control -and it was increasing. She said, without thinking, 'I could never wear that! '
'On the contrary, you are going to wear it now. Allow me that, my love! ' His voice deepened sardonically.
'I have never seen such a jittery bride when heaven knows you've insisted on a platonic holiday. Turn around, my child, and afterwards you can go to bed.'
His warm fingers touched her nape and he drew her backwards towards the mirror above the gilded console table in the entrance hall. There was a tingling sensation all over her body. She had never dreamed anyone could move her like this man did. This man, her husband, though their marriage had no true meaning.
'It's too beautiful for words!' she said huskily, A small rope of diamonds encircled her neck with a large emerald at her breast representing a flower's heart clustered around with diamonds and an encircling spray of smaller emeralds for leaves. The craftsmanship was superb, the beauty and elegance held in a tasteful restraint.
'You'll have to have your ears pierced for the earrings.' Paul said casually, though his eyes were moving with a peculiar intensity over the petal smoothness of her face and throat. 'We can have that done in Frisco.It's one of the world's most beautiful cities. You will love it, and I'll take you everywhere, including the Latin Quarter at North Beach. It's quite a famous entertainment area and I have a brother who lives there. Most of the people who live there are of Italian descent, but no gangsters, I promise you. Once I thought to live there, but I love Sydney too. The two cities have much in common, the natural beauty and excitement. There is something always happening.'
Brooke knew he was talking casually to lift her mood, but she couldn't respond. There were so many things she didn't know about him, so many things she hadn't even asked. He had really lived his life while she had lived in sheltered protection, cushioned from all the hard knocks in life. Slowly and carefully she turned in his arms, like a little girl being her most obedient and polite. 'Thank you! ' she said to this dashing, very romantic figure who was her husband.
'Can you not do better than that?' There was a faint challenge in the set of his head, the relaxed grace of his lean, hard body.
'Not right now,' she said softly. 'This is new to me, Paul. You must realise and be patient!'
'Madre mia!' he struck a hand to his head. 'Such patience is not in character. Surely you're not going to ask me to wait a hundred years?'
'We've agreed all along!'
'That's true! ' he said flatly for such a musical voice. 'I don't want you afterwards calling me names. One chaste kiss from my bride and I am fully prepared to have a cold shower! ' His black eyes sparkled over her. 'Come and see for yourself if you don't believe it.'
He could see the tears in her eyes and his imperious dark face seemed to tighten and sharpen. 'All right, little one, I struggle with my conscience and it wins., You see,' he added, and raised her hand to his mouth, pressing a real kiss on the tips of her fingers, then the palm, 'for you, I am determined to reshape myself, but I am a weak man, and curiously I won't be able to sleep unless you kiss me.' His expression changed to one of sharp humour and dutifully Brooke lifted her face, her green and gold eyes slowly closing.
The first touch of his mouth was a ravishment, his mouth moving over hers as though he loved the shape and taste of it. She could feel her knees give way and he gathered her into him, hungrily, tenderly, his hand encircling and caressing her throat, lifting the chain of diamonds over his fingers. He was murmuring to her in his own language and it was incredibly seductive, a drug she could easily become addicted to. She shook her titian head a little to right the mistily dissolving world, fighting the breathless Impulse to surrender to his sexual radiance. Every movement, every caress was deeply, gracefully erotic and she was clinging to him because she could not stand.
'Please, Paul! ' she murmured with her last strength.
'Darling?' He lifted his head and his voice sounded a little dazed.
'I want to go to bed.'
'For God's sake, so do I! ' He didn't speak violently, but somehow unsteadily. 'All right, little one, once you make up your mind, you make up your mind!'
Now he was releasing her she couldn't move, and he looked down at her creamy face and her trembling uncertainty and lifted her high in his arms. 'You can undress yourself, I hope? I do not mean you to leave me, otherwise I would offer. I would love to kiss every inch of your body, but I see it is not permitted, and God forbid I should rape my own wife.'
In his bedroom he lowered her very gently to the bed. 'Tell me you don't mean it?'
He was really very beautiful, she thought. In a way she had already begun to love him. There was something very thrilling about the bones and planes of his face, his dark colouring, the crooning melodic line of his voice. 'Goodnight, Paul,' she said softly, and as she did so she smiled, a lovely confidence coming back into her eyes.
'Buona notte, Signora Corelli!' he responded drily. 'If you hear a few cries during the night you'll know I'm having nightmares. Do not get up to me. I might misunderstand.'
The week in San Francisco was perfect. It was cold, but it didn't seem to matter. Paul bought her a beautiful fur coat and high boots and they went everywhere, filling the days with sightseeing, riding the gaily clanging cable cars, shopping in the fabulous stores, standing on Mount Tamalpais looking down at the skyscrapers and the ,glistening white buildings clustered on the hills. At the famous Fisherman's Wharf they ate seafood and bought souvenirs and they toured Chinatown and all the museums and art galleries and visited a friend of Paul's at Sausalito, the artists' colony, north of the city and across the Golden Gate Bridge. Light snow fell all the time they were there, but it was far from unpleasant, alm
ost romantic, cushioning them in an exciting, unreal world.
The night before they were due to fly home, Paul's older brother Marco gave a private party for them at one of the chain of restaurants he owned in the Latin Quarter, and by the time they arrived the place was alive with people enjoying themselves and wanting to meet them. Paul didn't in the least resemble his brother, except for one thing; they were both of them dynamic personalities with unquenchable energy and a inbuilt capacity for making money.
'Bella, bella, bella!' Marco gathered Brooke to him in a bear hug. He lacked Paul's height and uncanny elegance, but he was broad-shouldered and confident of his own attractiveness to women. He had been married twice, and twice divorced, and he had a beautiful blonde girl-friend in attendance.
There was much shouting and shoulder-clapping and I everyone lapsed into Italian as they always did when they were moved. Paul and his success in his new country was well known to them and it was gratifyingly obvious that they had given instant approval to his new bride. Brooke found herself feted and set at a long table with Marco as their host at its head. Then the feast began.
It seemed to Brooke later that she had never eaten such food, or drunk so much wine. It flowed as freely as the laughter and the stories, and afterwards there was dancing.
'Darling!' Paul's whisper was barely audible. He held her closely, lovingly, as though they were on their own.
'I don't think I've ever drunk so much vino!' she said humorously, lifting her face to him. She was laughing and her green eyes were sparkling, her hair a flaming cloud about her softly tinted face. 'Marco is being too good to us !'
'He is overcome by your beauty, but you belong to me.'
Without conscious volition her slender fingers moved up to caress the smooth skin at the nape of his neck. He had a beautifully shaped head and his hair curled crisply. It was a heady, insistent feeling, the first such movement she had ever made towards him, yet his whole body tensed as if a whip had flicked his bare skin.
'Do not play games with me, cara !'
'I'm sorry !' She moved her hand as though his skin burned her.
'In another half hour we will go back to the hotel,' he said tersely.
'But I thought you were enjoying yourself. I am!'
Perversely she wanted to hurt him after a week of pleasure and excessive indulgence. 'Your friend Dino asked me to dance with him and I haven't, when I promised.'
'And you want to?' he asked with his black eyes on her.
'Yes, very much !' she lied. 'Italians are beautiful natural dancers.'
'Don't enjoy it too much! ' he warned her with only the faintest edge of humour.
When the music ended, a very pretty fair girl grabbed Paul's arm and nodded pleasantly to Brooke. 'Hi, may I borrow your husband?'
'There's a time limit! ' Brooke smiled, equally pleasantly, and as the girl slid her arm through Paul's, his friend Dino quickly noticed and surged to Brooke's side, asking very politely and rather formally could he claim his dance now.
In an uncharacteristic spirit of abandon and feeling the frustrations of her relationship with Paul, Brooke went gracefully into the young man's arms. He was the same height as she was in high heels and he gazed soulfully into her eyes and after a moment began to croon softly neat her ear. He was good and it was a love song she particularly liked. 'Is there an Italian who can't sing?' she asked provocatively.
'I'm sure there must be!' he said, smiling. 'Paul is a very lucky man to have found himself such a beautiful bride.'
She opened her green eyes wide. 'Don't I look starry-eyed?'
'You do!' he agreed fervently. 'I remember Paul had a passion for red hair.'
'Really? Perhaps you'd better tell me more.'
'Titian ! I mean, Titian.' Dino said a little helplessly. 'You know, the great artist, Tiziano Vecellio. Paul too greatly admires that colouring as one admires a masterpiece.'
'Oh, I see!' said Brooke, smiling at Dine's faint discomfiture.
Then the smile was wiped off her face, for over Dine's shoulder she saw her husband fractionally lifting one eyebrow to something the petite blonde had said to him. There was a slight edge to his smile, the light was on the glossy sheen of his hair and he looked quite something to look at. A shiver, partly ice, partly fire, went through her veins. She didn't want him to look at another woman like that. She didn't like it, and unfamiliar jealousy took her in its grip.
Dino was now crooning again, so she didn't have to make conversation. Paul hadn't once looked in their direction, and in some strange way all her bright pleasure in the evening was fading. The girl was very attractive and Paul seemed to have a fatal weakness for any colour hair. Hastily, so no one could possibly guess her thoughts, she began to ask Dino all about himself, without actually listening, and Dino, entranced, refused to surrender her for quite a long while.
Foolishly she had yielded to an impulse and she was even relieved when Paul came to claim her. 'Will you excuse me, Dino?' he asked dryly.
Dino drew in his breath and smiled. 'Why, certainly, amico. I am enchanted with your so beautiful wife.'
'Well, thank you for looking after her !' The tone was silky, yet Dino melted quickly away.
'Time to go home, cara, said Paul with the merest lick of anger in his voice.
'I don't flatter myself you're jealous!' she retorted, her own feelings transmuted to a quick, rising fever.
'Come now,' he returned with deceptive gentleness, 'who is there to be jealous of? Who would appeal to you, with hair a mass of flames and a heart of ice?'
She thrust back against his imprisoning hand. 'Marco is looking towards us, please don't let's quarrel.'
'No, it might work against you! ' He linked his lean fingers through hers and they walked hand in hand through the crowd and over to where Marco was standing near the bar.
His white teeth flashed and he embraced Brooke first, then his brother. 'Next time you bring the little Lucia, understand? It is only a flight away, send her over for a holiday. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to meet my new sister. She is irresistible and I think a good match for you! '
Brooke smiled and thanked him again for giving them such a wonderful party, then Paul's arm was coiled about her and he was lifting his hand in salute to all his friends in the crowded room. All Brooke could do was continue to smile, crushed against her tall, dark husband, her green eyes huge and excited, the silken backward sweep of her hair falling back from her flushed face. They looked the perfect newly married couple. She knew they did, and all the time the suppressed fury and frustration of her loveless marriage was mounting within her.
On the way back to the hotel, she started an argument; she didn't know why she did, but she did. Ordinarily she never drank more than two glasses of wine, so perhaps it was that. Her heart seemed to be beating to suffocation, and she needed so much more from her husband. But what? He had been kindness and gallantry itself, so tender and indulgent he had often astonished her. So why now did she sound like a spoilt, unreasonable child? Paul sat aloof from her, leaving her to her low-pitched monologue, though he grasped her wrist firmly when they got out .of the cab and marched her through the hotel foyer into the waiting elevator. It was a famous hotel and their suite had delighted her, but tonight she noticed none of it.
In a self-induced fury she swept into her bedroom, but she had good sense enough not to slam the door in her husband's face. If eyes were a guide to temperament, such an action might bring instant reprisal. There was great pride in Paul, a high-mettled masculinity that didn't go with being dominated, much less humiliated by a woman. Her ridiculous marriage was getting to her. For a whole week, she had been a sweet, happy person, now she was cracked. Nothing made sense, least of all herself.
Her fur slid down her arms and she threw it on the chair, reaching for the zip on her dress. It wouldn't come and she could have screamed aloud in frustration. It had cost the earth and the zipper wouldn't work!
'Why not let me do that?' Paul asked
, lounging nonchalantly in the doorway. He had a drink in his hand and he looked very dark and fascinating. Brooke saw too he had taken off his jacket and tie.
'Thank you, don't bother! ' she answered automatically, and started pulling at the zipper again.
'You'll tear it', he warned her, and put down his drink.
Brooke's flushed oval face was startled. Often she had dreamed about him coming towards her with just such a look on his face. 'Don't, Paul! ' she said with a little thrill of anxiety.
'Oh, stop it, you ridiculous child!' He turned her a little forcefully, and after a moment of gentle persuasion slid the long zipper down the back of her dress.