Dinner proved for Gina a long, dreary hour that dragged. It also provided some humiliating moments. Quentin's mother enquired belatedly why they had returned so soon from their honeymoon, and Quentin murmured something about urgent business.
'But you said you might be away for weeks!'
'We got fed up,' he replied curtly, with no regard for Gina's feelings, or Myra's pricked ears.
Wholly aware of Mrs Hurst's surprise and Myra's startled interest, which almost made her drop the iced sweet she was serving, Gina sank beneath a sea of embarrassment. How dared Quentin do this to her!
'Or perhaps it was because Gina's clairvoyant?' she heard him suggesting suavely, without humour. 'She must have sensed you were in need of help.'
'Well, it's very kind of her to offer to help me.' Mrs Hurst sounded gratified but looked slightly bewildered.
'I won't bother with coffee.' His voice suddenly leashed, Quentin rose. 'I'm going to work in my study. I'll leave you to discuss Gina's duties.'
By the end of the week Gina felt tired and not a little fed up with the whole situation. Quentin continued treating her like a stranger, but while she had expected him to stay in London, which might have afforded her some relief, he came home each evening, and once appeared for lunch—an unheard-of thing. His mother, on the other hand, seemed to forget she was Quentin's wife and began ordering her around much as she had done when Gina had worked for her before. Not that Gina minded terribly. Through the day she was too busy to trunk and by evening she was often too exhausted to. She grew used to Quentin sleeping next door, but he complained that she tossed and turned so much she kept him awake.
One afternoon, when she had managed to escape, she went riding and met Felix Duke, who begged her to come and have a cup of tea with him.
'I haven't seen you since you were married,' he said ruefully, his eyes on Gina's lovely young face, 'and I missed you a lot during the year you were away. You'll have to take pity on me.'
Gina laughed, refusing to take him seriously, but said she would love a cup of tea.
Felix laughed, too, but his eyes darkened. 'I don't know why I allowed Quentin to steal you the way he did, but then he always was a fast worker.'
'With women, you mean?'
'They seem to like him. Of course,' he added hastily, 'it will be different now he's married.'
'I hope so,' she replied lightly, but felt the smile leave her lips.
'I expect personal charm and financial genius are an unbeatable combination,' Felix sighed, quite without rancour, 'and Quentin has both'
'Financial genius?' Gina glanced at him sharply.
Felix was tolerant. 'Your husband's reputation is well known, you know.'
Gina hadn't known. At least, she hadn't been sure, for she'd never taken a great deal of interest in that side of Quentin's life or enquired too closely into his business talents. She had been vaguely aware that he was considered brilliant. A quick frown knitted her brow as something elusive came to confuse and tantalise her, but before she had time to define it they arrived on Felix's doorstep and her bewilderment was forgotten.
It was later than she had intended it should be when she returned to Briarly and rushed up to her room to change for dinner. She found herself wishing that she and Quentin had been an ordinary couple in a small house of their own, so that being late for dinner wouldn't have mattered.
To her relief there was no sign of him and she flung off her clothes and dived under the shower. She hadn't seemed to be there more than a minute when she distinctly heard a door open sharply. Peculiarly beset by apprehension, she leapt out of the cubicle and grabbed her silky robe. Without stopping to dry herself she pulled it around her wet body as she went back to the bedroom.
Quentin was there, as she had somehow feared he would be, with just a towel thrust around his middle. His chest was bare and she couldn't recall seeing him like this before, not even at the hotel where they had spent their honeymoon. There, on the one occasion when she might have done, it had been too dark to see. Or had she been too blinded by desire and uncertainty to see him properly?
For days, now, he had scarcely spoken to her, and strangely she resented this as much as she did his watchdog attitude. 'If any thing's wrong—' she knew she spoke insolently, 'I'm not interested. I'd like to get ready for dinner, so would you please get out of my room.'
'I'll leave when I'm ready.' He eyed the defiant pink-ness in her cheeks narrowly, obviously holding on to his own temper with difficulty.
The wet from the shower soaking her robe was becoming uncomfortable, as were the flickers of heat which ran crazily through her limbs as her eyes were drawn against her will to the powerful breadth of his bare shoulders and the thick covering of dark hair below them. It appeared to run right down past his navel. Swallowing hard, she dragged her eyes back to his face. Perhaps if she changed her tactics he might be willing to go?
'I'm sorry,' she murmured, 'I—I didn't mean to sound aggressive, but you know how your mother dislikes being kept waiting.'
'Whose fault will that be tonight?' Quentin asked, moving so near that the sharp, clean scent of his skin filled her nostrils.
A sudden flicker of intuition warned her he knew exactly where she had been, but she tried to bluff it out. 'I realise I have only myself to blame, but I got held up.'
'With Duke?'
So her intuition had been right? He did know. Well, she wouldn't try to deny it. 'You, sound as though I'd committed a crime! I only accepted a cup of tea.'
'I asked you not to see him.'
'I didn't meet him deliberately, if that's what you're thinking.'
He didn't answer at once, but after a moment he said curtly, 'How you meet him is irrelevant. Going to his house is another matter. His mother is away.'
'So what?' she interrupted swiftly, her nerves almost at breaking point. It just had to be funny, that while he attacked her about other men the only man she could think of was him! Didn't he know what his nearness was doing to her!
'Have you slept with him yet?' Quentin's snarling query made her gasp, for she hadn't expected him to have thought she would have sunk as low as that.
'No, I have not!' Meeting his grey, contemptuous eyes, her own grew hot with anger. 'But I almost wish I had done.'
'Why?' he jeered. 'Aren't you learning to live with frustration?'
'How—how dare you!' she cried. Against his leashed sarcasm her fury was a livid, outgoing thing, threatening to shatter her to pieces if it couldn't find release. To smack his mocking face with her hand wouldn't do. Wildly she grasped the glass vase of flowers behind her, flinging them at him. He ducked, and instead of hitting him, the vase crashed into the bathroom door behind him, breaking to a thousand glittering pieces.
Instantly, as she would have turned and run, he caught hold of her, his anger mounting savagely as he brought her brutally to him. One of his hands tangled in her hair to drag her head back, while his other arm went around her so tightly she couldn't move. She could scarcely even breathe, he held her so closely. Then, as if determined to inflict more punishment, his mouth took hers, crushing open her shaking lips, searching, demanding, no tenderness behind the driving force of his kiss.
Ever since that first night of their honeymoon, subconsciously she had yearned for this, and the damped-down fires inside her refused to be denied such instant refuelling. If she struggled at first, she soon melted and burned as Quentin thrust her robe back until there was nothing between them. The harsh insistence of his mouth hurt but was arousing a storm of passion, a sensuous hunger which threatened to evade control as he moulded her ever closer. They could neither of them seem to get near enough. Gina felt the imprint of his hand crushing her taut breasts, the strength of his limbs pressing forcibly against her limbs.
'Don't move,' he groaned, as they gasped for breath, their breathing quickening urgently. 'I could take you now.'
And how could she stop him? Did she want to?
Th
e battering on the door was no louder than her heartbeats. Quentin lifted his head, releasing her suddenly. Gina's hand went blindly to her burning cheeks as he pulled up his slipping towel and left her to see who was there.
It was Myra, apprehensive but curious. Gina was relieved that Quentin's tallness concealed her from Myra's darting eyes.
'Your mother thought she heard a terrible crash, Mr Quentin. She sent me to see…'
Above her still erratic breathing, Gina heard Quentin's reply. 'My wife slipped with the flower vase, Myra. Perhaps you'd come back later and clear it up?' His voice was unbelievably steady.
'Couldn't you think of anything better than that?' Gina exclaimed helplessly. 'What sort of wife will they think me?'
'I'm beginning to wonder myself.' Turning, as Myra left, he regarded her so coolly she gasped. He made no attempt to come near her again.
Because she had to try desperately to achieve even a modicum of composure, she envied Quentin his immediate control. She hated him for it, as it seemed to demonstrate clearly how little she really disturbed him. It induced her to fall pleading at his feet, but for her pride's sake she chose to attack him. 'You promised not to touch me.'
'I didn't promise anything,' his eyes narrowed on her white, strained face, 'but I have ho wish to struggle with your hate. An unwilling bride doesn't appeal to me.'
'You know why I can't be anything else,' she faltered, close to tears.
'We won't go into that,' he cut in tersely. 'It's not important, and, as you pointed out a few regrettable minutes ago, we will be late for dinner if we don't hurry.'
A few days after this, as though they hadn't enough problems, Jenkins the groom told Gina he was leaving. He was having trouble with his wife, who refused to leave London, and who threatened to go off with another man if Jim didn't find another job in an area she liked. As he wanted to leave immediately Gina, seeing this suddenly as a further means of saving money, made no attempt to stop him and, without consulting Quentin, said she was quite willing to take over. It would also be a chance to see more of her beloved horses, and she could still continue to help Mrs Hurst.
Quentin had to know, of course, because, for one thing, there were various documents to be sent on. What Gina didn't learn was that Quentin delivered the relevant matter himself and told Jenkins exactly what he thought of him leaving without giving proper notice.
He found Gina at the stables when he returned that evening, but he didn't say where he had been. Absently, he rubbed Hector's enquiring nose. 'I'll get on to the unemployment people first thing in the morning.'
'No need.' Gina was cleaning tack, which she had decided was looking neglected. She kept her head bent over it. 'I can manage, like I used to. Anyway, you mightn't find it easy to get someone else. There isn't a house.'
There were two cottages, but the gardener lived in one and Mrs Worth had the other. 'I'm having another one built,' Quentin replied. 'I had plans drawn up and passed some time ago. In the meantime, a new groom can always lodge in the village, as Jenkins did.'
'But, Quentin!' Disconcerted, Gina forgot to keep her head down. Lifting it now to stare at him, she stammered, 'You can't go to all that—I mean, you can't possibly afford to go to all that expense now.'
'Gina!' His voice hardened warningly.
'I know!' she retorted tautly, her face paling. 'I haven't to mention it, but how can I say nothing when you continue to spend money you haven't got so recklessly!'
He looked as though he would like to have killed her, but suddenly changed his mind. His face almost as taut as her own, he said grimly, 'Please yourself what you do, but don't begin complaining when you run out of strength.' With visible effort he spoke more gently. 'Gina, is it any good asking you to reconsider?'
Abruptly she shook her head. 'I'll do what I think is best. I don't need your advice.'
Grimly he thrust a hand under her chin, turning her face up to his before she could move. 'What happened to the young girl who was always seeking my advice? Begging for it many a night, almost before I had time to get out of my car. You were always a headstrong child, but you liked me well enough then. I was forever falling over you. Now you won't listen to anything I say and you don't even like me any more.'
Gina's throat went dry, for she seemed to sense behind his anger a great area of bleakness. Wouldn't it be so easy to throw her arms around him and forget everything else, if there hadn't been so much distrust and lack of respect between them. But a lack of respect might kill even lust, eventually!
Unhappily she whispered, 'How can I come to you any more when there are things we can't talk about?'
'Ah, yes. My dishonesty,' he sneered, his grip on her soft throat tightening before he almost threw her away from him. Turning on his heel, he retorted harshly, his eyes black as he left her, 'I'm quite aware there are things you can't forgive, Gina. I only hope you don't expect me to forgive you more easily when the time comes.'
'You could help with the horses!' she called after him weakly, scarcely taking in what he was saying. She hadn't meant to plead, but suddenly she couldn't bear to see him go with so much violence on his face. If only she could make him understand!
'I might—' he paused, his mouth curling in the old familiar way she had learnt to fear. 'Blanche rang, just before I came out to come here, actually. She's coming over in the morning for a ride.'
'But where's her own horse, the black one? I—'
'Yes?' Quentin prompted shortly. Then, as she hesitated, he asked curiously, 'When did you see her on that?'
Wishing she hadn't mentioned it, she replied uncertainly, 'A few weeks ago.'
Quentin frowned. 'Her brother doesn't have it now. He sold it.'
He seemed remarkably clued up on Blanche's mourns and her family. Well, a little more torture couldn't make all that much difference to the ultimate pain, and it wasn't as if Quentin wouldn't suffer too. To have to spend a few hours in the company of a girl he had wanted to marry, and the one he had been forced to, for financial reasons, wouldn't surely provide him with a great deal of pleasure either.
It made Gina angry, but more unhappy than she had bargained for, to find herself trailing after Blanche and Quentin next morning, much as she had used to do. Quentin had even kissed Blanche lightly on the cheek when she had turned up at the stables after the work was all done and the horses standing ready. Gina, who had been up since dawn, hadn't received from him so much as a kind glance.
When Felix appeared over the brow of the hill and offered his unfailing hospitality, she merely felt irritated. She knew she was being unfair, but she wanted to refuse it.
Not so Blanche. Flushed by Quentin's flattering attention and his obvious neglect of his wife, she gave him a brilliant smile, edging so close to him that their thighs touched as she caught his arm. 'Come on, darling, say yes to the poor man.'
Quentin, returning her smile, if not quite so brilliantly, had obviously no intention of saying no, and Gina had to endure what stretched into an hour of having to sit and watch Blanche flirt quite shamelessly with her not uncooperative husband. After a while Felix must have imagined this gave him a legitimate right to do the same thing and turned his attention to Gina, who felt compelled for her pride's sake to make some show of responding.
As Felix settled too near her, however, on a low couch, Quentin immediately rose to his feet, announcing that it was time they were going. If the smouldering anger in his eyes didn't explain why, it must have given even the most disinterested onlooker some idea.
Gina, her resentment increasing, felt so miserable that she galloped in front on the way home, so she wouldn't have to watch Quentin and Blanche again. She realised they were following at a more leisurely pace, but after she had unsaddled and rubbed down there was still no sign of them. Feeling near to angry tears, she decided to go back to the house and leave them to manage themselves. Perhaps Quentin wouldn't be so pleased with Blanche when he found he had everything to do for her.
/> Gina was in her room when she remembered how Quentin was always accusing her of being childish. Did her behaviour, this morning, merely confirm it? For a moment she paused, her hands on her aching head. If he could read the state of her mind, he would know the sweeping waves of emotion which constantly threatened to take over were far from childish! He couldn't read her mind, though, so he wouldn't know, and it was better that he shouldn't. But to prevent this she might be wiser to return to the stables, where she could pretend to be waiting for him and Blanche, indifferently.
It wasn't until she reached the stable door that she realised they were back, as she recognised Hector's welcoming whinny, but if this startled her it startled her even more to find Blanche in Quentin's arms. True, Quentin's big body concealed Blanche's, but nothing could hide the fact that her two hands were linked behind his neck and that Quentin's dark head was bent. With a stifled cry Gina ran back the way she had come.
This incident unnerved her so thoroughly that during the following days she often wondered how long she could go on. The only relief she could find was in work, and she worked until she was so tired she could almost forget how she had felt on finding Blanche in the stables with Quentin. As she grew paler and thinner, Quentin had every appearance of a man driven near desperation, yet she couldn't think of anything to say to him. If she were to offer him his freedom he would only refuse, as he must still need her grandfather's help and support.
She thought about her grandfather a lot, and when he rang after lunch one day to say he was home again, she felt so glad to hear his voice she could scarcely speak.
'If you can spare an hour I'd love to see you,' he said.
'I'll be right over,' she managed to reply before she rang off.
Charles was waiting when she arrived, and again she felt weepy as she hugged him and they went arm in arm into the drawing-room. Not wanting to worry him by being over-emotional, Gina asked how he was, then began teasing him lightly about always being away.
The Loving Slave Page 15