Turbulent Covenant

by Jessica Steele

  Ben asking, 'What's the matter?' startled her.

  `Nothing,' she replied quietly, finding herself unable to look at him, and suddenly he was turning the car off the main road and driving down a secondary road.

  `This isn't the way to ...'

  His grim, 'I know it isn't,' cut her short.

  Then he was pulling over on to the grass verge, and still unable to look at him, Tiffany knew her short answer had upset him. The car stopped and she knew he had turned to look at her.

  `Tiffany.'

  Just that and no more. It was said quietly, and she knew he was waiting for her to turn and face him. Knowing she would do neither of them any good by ignoring his unspoken request, she slewed around forcing herself to meet his eyes. They were glinting dangerously, she saw but he wouldn't let her back away from his look.

  `I cannot accept that "nothing" is wrong,' he told her grittily, 'and I refuse to have our first row within an hour of our being married—so out with it—what's troubling you?'

  She opened her mouth, managed to say, 'I ...' and closed it again. Not for the life of her could she tell this platonic husband of hers the truth—the plain unvarnished truth, that she was put out because he hadn't kissed her. He waited for her to add more, then when she didn't, he showed her what she had quite forgotten—that Ben Maxwell was set in a very different mould from any other man she knew, showed her what she had also forgotten, that he had an uncanny knack of knowing exactly what was in her mind.

  `If you're aggrieved because I didn't give you the customary kiss at the church,' he ignored her confirming gasp as his arrow scored a direct hit, 'I'll tell you now why I didn't. It wasn't because I hadn't thought of it, because ...' he paused, looked irritated for a moment, then as though searching for words and growing fed up with the need to break something gently to her, his voice altered, lost some of its harshness, and he said, 'Hell, Tiffany, you

  have no idea how you look—so beautiful—so young- dammit, so virginal!'

  Tiffany blushed, more from the thrill of knowing Ben thought she looked beautiful than anything else. Ben witnessed her blush, then told her, no hardness in his voice at all now :

  `What I'm trying to say is this—I know you're a strictly marriage-before-bed girl, and right now you're married to me. We both know ours is a marriage made because of a certain set of circumstances, but in a few hours' time we shall be back at the flat on our own.' Tiffany's heart was hop, skipping and jumping about wildly as she looked back at him and tried to see the point he was making, and then he told her, 'It's natural that you're going to feel apprehensive when you're alone with me tonight, so, much as I wanted to join with the others and salute you after our marriage ceremony, I thought it wiser not to give you any cause for nervous speculation when that time comes

  Do you understand me, Tiffany?'

  `I didn't think,' she said huskily. Oh, to have his ability to think three moves ahead! He was right, of course. Apart from the newness of moving into a different flat, sleeping in a strange bed, she knew she would be feeling pangs of disquiet left alone with the virile-looking man when darkness descended and she was alone with him.

  And then he was saying, 'I know your aunt isn't here to see—and that's what this is all about, isn't it?' Tiffany felt it better not to answer, contenting herself with being glad Ben had no idea her pique hadn't all been on account of her aunt. 'But since you now know the whys and wherefores, I think we should seal our bargain.'

  His arm came over her shoulder, and then Tiffany felt herself being drawn towards him, and his mouth was over hers, not seeking and taking, but pleasure-giving and sur-

  prisingly gentle. It was the most beautiful kiss she had ever received. Instinctively she knew he was holding himself in check, knew this wasn't his usual sort of kiss. Then his one hand gripped hard on her waist, and he drew back, the long kiss ended.

  Tiffany opened her eyes and thought she saw a kindling of fire in his look—thought he was on the edge of telling her something, and thoroughly bemused, would have agreed then to anything he suggested. But all he said as he turned to start the engine was, 'I think it's time we went and joined the others, don't you, Mrs Maxwell.'

  Of course the 'others' had arrived when they reached the hotel. They were all beaming, and Ian Repton put it all into words for them by saying, 'Now there stands a girl who's been thoroughly kissed!' Tiffany looked across at her aunt, saw she was laughing with the rest. Tiffany was happy.

  After a lengthy meal, Ben took Tiffany to her aunt's house to change. She had a new mustard-coloured wool suit, and what with all the bridal lingerie her aunt had insisted on giving her, she really did feel like a bride. As well as quite a few items of wispy underwear, her aunt had bought her several frothy nighties and one perfectly lovely nightdress with matching negligee, a dream of white nylon, ribbon and lace. Tiffany had gone slightly pink when she had seen it—dear romantic Aunt Margery! She had folded the nightdress and negligee back into their swathes of tissue and placed them in their box; she could never imagine herself wearing them. The other nightdresses, though, would make a nice change from her usual pyjamas.

  When they arrived back at Ben's flat, he carried her parcels and suitcases into the bedroom that was to be hers, and Tiffany following into the room gasped in

  amazement. Gone were the dull grey walls, replaced by a Wedgwood effect of blue and white. There were even new satiny blue curtains.

  `Ben,' she whispered. Was ... Did you have this done for me?'

  `I didn't think you liked the grey,' he returned matter-of-factly. 'I'll put some coffee on,' he said, and went through the door.

  His thoughtfulness touched her deeply. She wished she could do more for him, and had the opportunity since they had both eaten their fill earlier of preparing a snack meal later on.

  Towards eleven o'clock a soft yawn escaped her. It would be heaven to get into bed, she thought; the day's events had taken more out of her than she knew. But she felt slightly uncomfortable about telling Ben she wanted to go to bed, though she thanked him silently for that little talk he'd had with her before they'd gone to the reception— without that she knew she would be a jangling mass of nerves.

  `Tired?'

  `I am a bit.' Trust him not to have missed that yawn.

  `I shan't be turning in just yet, so if you'd like to use the bathroom first ...'

  He was smoothing out any tension she felt almost without effort, Tiffany realised, as she showered, donned one of her new nightdresses, and wrapped herself in her old, much washed dressing gown. It was pink and fluffy, and she looked very cuddleworthy as with her face free of make-up, she went through to the sitting room intending to give Ben a quick goodnight before scurrying off to her bedroom.

  He rose to his feet as she entered, took in her scrubbed appearance and warm dressing gown. 'You look about sixteen,' he said, and came towards her to cup her face in

  his hands. 'Thank you for today,' he said sincerely, then his lips made brief contact with her scrubbed cheek. `Goodnight,' he said.

  For ages, it seemed, she lay there, her mind reliving the day, then with a contented sigh she at last turned on to her side and fell into a dreamless sleep.

  A hand shaking her shoulder awakened her, bringing her up from a deep sleep. For a moment she had no idea where she was and felt fear shoot through her, not recognising in her sleep-drugged mind that the face bending over her belonged to Ben.

  The easy look left his eyes as he saw her frightened expression. The coldness in his voice was biting as he said, 'Take that terrified look off your face, I haven't come to claim my conjugal rights— It's seven-thirty. We catch a plane in an hour.' The door closed behind him with a decisive snap.

  Tiffany came rapidly awake. Quickly she sat up, groaned softly when ,she saw there was a cup of tea reposing on her bedside table. Oh God, what had she done? She doubted she would ever make him understand that it had been a shock to find a man in pyjamas and dressing gown bending over her, his face not regist
ering through her sleep-befuddled brain.

  Ben was back to being the unapproachable airline pilot she had always thought him when she joined him, but refusing to be put off she did all in her power to try and recapture the companionship she had thought was beginning to grow between them yesterday. But after ten minutes of chattering about anything that came into her head and receiving his monosyllabic replies, she found her own temper beginning to rise. If he didn't want to talk, that was O.K. by her!

  They were stopping overnight at a hotel in Zurich, Ben

  deigned to tell her once they were airborne, and would be completing the remainder of their journey by train the next day. And arriving at their hotel, Tiffany discovered he had booked adjoining rooms. He came into her room with her, looked round as if to satisfy himself that it was comfortable and to her liking, then he disappeared through the communicating door, closing it quietly behind him.

  Tiffany glared at the closed door and felt her ire rising again. She was in two minds whether or not to turn the key in the lock of the door separating them, thereby having the last word. Then she censured herself for the thought. Ben would only think she was being childish and he probably thought her fear of him this morning juvenile in the extreme as it was.

  She heard a door close, heard firm footsteps moving away down the corridor. He had gone out ! How could he? without so much as a word to her. Well, if he thought she was going to stay in her bedroom and wait for his return, he could think again ! She would give him a few minutes to get clear and then she too would go out.

  Zurich was a clean city. Tiffany liked it. There were many shops in which she would wander, and putting Ben firmly from her mind she began to enjoy herself. What woman could resist going through the dress departments of the big stores, she thought, as she strolled through one store after another. She would liked to have bought herself something, but Ben had dropped it on her almost at the last moment that they would be coming to Switzerland, and she didn't have any Swiss currency. So although she did see one eye-catching dress, she reluctantly turned her back on it.

  She had no idea how long she had been away, but what did it matter how long she'd been, she thought, as she entered through the doors of the hotel. Ben wouldn't have

  missed her; in all probability he hadn't returned himself.

  Barely had she stepped through her door than Ben strode through from his room. He made no attempt to disguise the ice in his eyes, and expecting trouble, Tiffany lifted her chin a few degrees higher. The ice in his eyes was matched by his voice, she found.

  `And just where the hell do you think you've been?' About to say 'Out' Tiffany took another look at his face, and changed it rapidly to, 'Shopping.'

  `It didn't occur to you, I suppose, to think to tell me you were going out?'

  `You didn't tell me you were going out,' Tiffany fired back, while gasping at the man's arrogance.

  `Apart from nipping down to the desk to pick up a train timetable, I haven't been out,' was his instant reply. `As it is I've been kicking my heels for the best part of three hours wondering where the hell you'd disappeared to.'

  She was instantly contrite. How could she have thought him so uncaring as to go out and leave her without a word? `I'm sorry, Ben.' At least they were now talking—was this a chance to patch things up?

  Her hopes were doomed to failure; his voice hadn't thawed when he asked, 'Where is this shopping you couldn't wait to do?'

  `I didn't buy, anything,' she stated, and goaded by the superior male look in his eye, 'I didn't have time to get any Swiss currency, did I?'

  `Neither you did,' he said. She saw his hand go to his wallet and was unprepared for his, 'I changed enough sterling for the two of us—I meant to give it to you before we set off this morning, but it slipped my mind.'

  She had a fair idea what made it slip his mind too, but as he went to give her the bundle of notes, she knew nothing would make her take it.

  `I haven't enough sterling to settle with you.'

  A look of sheer amazement passed over his features. `Good God, I don't want you to pay it back !' Her expression remained mulish. 'You're my wife, Tiffany,' he said, exasperated, and when she still wouldn't take the money from him, he threw the notes on to her bed, and with a disgusted, 'Women !' he slammed back into his own room.

  Tiffany had simmered down by the time it came to start getting ready for dinner that night. She had seen nothing of Ben since he had slammed out of her room earlier. She would have to use a little of his money, she realised, her toothpaste would only take another squeeze and she'd die rather than ask if she could use his.

  She was bathed and wearing her robe on top of her underclothes, sitting in front of the dressing table applying eye-shadow to her lids, when the door between the two rooms opened. She knew Ben stood there, but she wouldn't look at him though she felt her hand begin to shake as he surveyed her for a long half minute, not coming any further into the room.

  `How long is it going to take you to do that?'

  `I'll be ready in ten minutes,' Tiffany answered, not looking at him.

  mm—that means twenty. Would you mind if I waited for you in the bar?'

  She found no amusement in the thought that already she was driving him to drink. Her, 'Not at all,' was offhand, and at his indrawn breath she just had to look at him, and quickly away again, not liking all the look that met her. She was sure his look said he would like to take some drastic action with her, and she had no idea what. Shake her? Kiss her? The door snapped shut. She was on her own.

  Exactly twenty minutes later Tiffany entered the bar.

  She saw Ben at once, he was talking to one of the most attractive blondes she had ever seen and she felt nausea rise up and hit her. Pure jealousy, she realised as she stamped down the feeling. Ben and his companion were easily the best looking couple in the room.

  He saw her, and stood up as she went to join him. 'At last, darling,' he said, and while she- was still recovering from that 'darling', 'I want you to meet an old friend of mine.'

  Trust him to have an old friend who looked like this one! Holly Barrington, it appeared, had grown up with him, and on .closer inspection Tiffany saw she looked to be about thirty.

  `Isn't it marvellous bumping into you like this!' Holly at least was delighted, and from what Tiffany could see Ben was equally pleased. He invited her to join them for dinner at any rate.

  Tiffany tried to infuse some warmth in her tones when speaking to Holly, and thought she just about managed it, though from what she could tell Holly wouldn't have worried anyway. She monopolised the conversation, monopolised Ben, and what with her 'Do you remembers' coming out every five minutes, Tiffany was beginning to feel like an unwanted guest at a feast.

  Surely he could shrug that possessive hand off his sleeve if he wanted to. And that, Tiffany thought, summed up the whole miserable business—he obviously didn't want to. Holly was off on another of her, 'Do you remember, Ben,'. sagas, and Tiffany thought her stifled yawn had gone undetected.

  `Are you tired, darling?' she heard Ben say, and realised he was talking to her.

  `I am a little,' she confessed, and quite without thinking, `It was quite late when I got off to sleep last night.' Scarlet

  colour flooded every part of her, and she felt she would bum with the heat of it as she realised the implication behind her words; last night had been the first night of her honeymoon.

  Too embarrassed to look at Ben, she saw Holly was smiling, then daring to look at him, she saw his half smile had turned into a definite grin.

  `You go on up, then, Tiffany,' he said with a glance at his unfinished brandy. 'I won't be long myself.'

  Tiffany found herself on her feet with Ben standing beside her. `G-Goodnight,' she stammered to Holly, and fled.

  Reaching her room, Tiffany didn't feel any better about what she had just said, but grew calmer as she prepared for bed and felt the comfort of her old fluffy gown around her. Not the sort of dressing gown one would normally take
on honeymoon, but then this wasn't a normal marriage and she couldn't help wondering why, since Ben had needed a wife, he hadn't married Holly. She didn't doubt that Holly would be more than willing to fill that role.

  The puzzle swung round and around in her brain of why hadn't he asked Holly to marry him, and she could find no answer until, about to give it up, it came to her; Ben needed a wife in order to allay his father's fears. But since he didn't want to be married once his father was well again and once more reunited with Frances, Ben would want to be free—and Holly was not the type to let go.

  A movement in the next room alerted her to the fact that Ben was there, and the depression of her thoughts vanished as a small smile played around her mouth. Ben hadn't stayed with Holly for very long after she had left them. The door opened as she stood there watching it, and there was Ben, none of the harshness in his face now that had been there the last time he had opened that door.

  Not in bed yet?' he enquired mildly. 'I thought since you were so late in dropping off last night you were tired?' The colour stormed to her cheeks. 'Yes, you can blush,' he added, and she could have sworn there was a twinkle in his eye as he said it.

  So certain was she that Ben had found the incident amusing that the misery that had been her companion for most of the day dissolved, and the thought came that here was the moment to try and put things right between them.

  `Ben,' she said, then quickly because she wanted it said and over with, 'Ben, about this morning.' That was as far as she got, as a hard look came to his eyes, she could almost feel the frost piling up inside him P-Please listen to me, Ben,' she went on as he stood stiffly, his eyes piercing through her. If she said this all wrong she would be spending another miserable clay tomorrow and she didn't think she could bear that. 'When you woke me this m-morning I was still half asleep ' she looked away from him, aware she was gabbling now. 'I ... I've never been woken by a man before and your face didn't register. I was in a strange bed, a strange room, and ... and there was this man bending over me— D don't you see, Ben—I didn't know it was you.' She came to the end, suddenly convinced she had just made a complete and utter fool of herself, convinced that it didn't matter to him what she had felt at the time.