Carver's Bride

by Nicola West

  'But you're giving it up now, aren't you?' Ceri asked in her light voice, catching them up. 'Aren't you getting married—to some high-finance whizz-kid, or someone like that?'

  'Yes, more or less.' Linzi smiled at the thought of Richard being called a whizz-kid, yet that was what he was really, she supposed. 'Richard's away in Europe at present, but he'll be back Soon and then we'll be busy arranging the wedding and deciding where to live. So I shan't have time for modelling after this.'

  'Jason's lucky you were still available, then,' Ceri murmured, slanting a provocative look up at him from under her thick dark lashes. 'Of course, I offered to model for him, but he seems to have some special idea in mind that I wouldn't be right for. . . .'

  'Now, we've been through all that before, Ceri,' Jason told her, his smile robbing the words of any rebuke. 'You know that you're special—I've done enough models of you for you to realise that—but for this particular commission Linzi is the type I need.' And that puts me in my place, Linzi thought. Not special—-just a type. She turned back to Ceri's father.

  'This is the first time I've really been up here,' she remarked, waving an expressive hand at the surrounding hills. 'It's so beautiful I never want to go down. Have you lived here all your life, Mr Penrhys?'

  'Oh yes. We're an old local family, you know. Of course, we don't own all the land we used to—just the Court and a few fields and one or two of the hills now. A lot of it was sold off just before I inherited. All we old families are poor as church mice now, you know!'

  'Bron Melyn used to belong to us,' Ceri put in. 'Or didn't Jason tell you that?'

  'No—we haven't had much time for talking.' But that wasn't quite true. There'd been many times, at meals or late in the evenings when they'd been listening to music together, when such an item of information might have fallen quite naturally into the conversation. Perhaps Jason hadn't thought she'd be interested. Hadn't realised that she was falling in love with Bron Melyn, that anything to do with the sturdy old farmhouse and its dramatic backcloth of hills was likely to catch at her imagination.

  When they reached the end of the track, Linzi found that the lane it led to went directly past Penrhys Court. Mr Penrhys and Ceri left them there, but Ceri agreed delightedly to Jason's suggestion that she come over to Bron Melyn for dinner that evening.

  'It seems ages since we had an evening together,' she said reproachfully. 'Not since the dinner we had together in Chepstow. Almost a fortnight ago!'

  'Well, we'll make up for it tonight,' Jason told her, smiling. 'And you and Linzi can have that gossip you were wanting.'

  The two girls glanced at each other. Ceri's expression was difficult to read—-but Linzi was sure her smile went no deeper than the surface. She didn't want an evening spent in girl-talk, that was plain. What Ceri wanted was an evening with Jason—full stop.

  Hugh had tea ready when they returned to Bron Melyn and Linzi, thirsty after the long hot walk, drank several cups. Afterwards, she went up to her room and read for a while. It was quiet and peaceful up there, with no sound but a faint tapping coming from the studio, where Jason had gone, and the faraway bleating of sheep on the hill.

  After a while she began to prepare for dinner, washing her hair and taking a long, leisurely shower. Usually she and Jason dressed informally, he casual in pale slacks and a shirt that showed off his broad, muscular shoulders and narrow waist, she in a loose caftan or summer dress. But tonight she felt that something more was called for. She stared into her wardrobe for a long time before finally deciding on a long dress of sea-green silk chiffon in Grecian style, with a low scooped neckline and slashed, elbow-length sleeves that accentuated the slimness of her arms. With it she wore silver chains looped around her long neck, and silver sandals. Her tawny hair she swept up into a French pleat, and from her ears she hung long silver ear-rings.

  Her heartbeat quickened as she looked into the mirror and knew that she had never looked lovelier. Normally she took her looks very much for granted; now she saw them through another's eyes, and she wondered what Jason's reaction might be. So far, he had seen her only in casual clothes. But with Ceri there to make her look tall and ungainly, would he even notice that his little 'sister' had grown up?

  Linzi frowned as she thought of their walk home after leaving Penrhys Court. Jason had been silent, deep in thought. And Linzi, acutely aware of the tension between them, the memory of his kisses in the chapel still burning her mind, had been unable to think of a word to say. It was only as they came in sight of Bron Melyn that he had stopped abruptly and spoken.

  'Linzi, don't go in yet. There's something I want to say to you.'

  'Oh?' Linzi paused, her nerves tingling. -What could he possibly want to say? That he was sorry for what had happened in the chapel, that he hadn't meant it? That there was nothing between him and Ceri? She wouldn't believe either of them. To her, Jason Carver had proved himself to be nothing but an opportunist. Carrying on an affair with one girl while ready at any moment to start another with someone else. Or would it have been a once-only occasion? Whatever the answer, she didn't want to know. More than that, she didn't want Jason to know the way it had affected her.

  'Linzi, wait. We need to talk—'

  'You may, I don't,' she said tightly. 'All right, I enjoyed it too—but it didn't mean anything, did it? You don't have to explain or apologise. I've been around, you know. I didn't waste those five years. I don't expect men to have honourable intentions.'

  Jason stared at her, his face darkening. It was quite plain what construction he had put on her words—well, let him, Linzi thought, shrugging. Maybe it was better that way. If he thought she was experienced, he would think she could control her own reactions. Wouldn't run away with the idea that a kiss or a touch from him would have her weak at the knees, as malleable in his hands as the clay he used to model.

  If only he knew!

  Keeping up a defiant pretence, Linzi watched him. So now he believed that the moments in the chapel were just pleasurable dalliance. Good! And if she could further convince him that she wasn't interested in repeating the experiment, that should keep her safe. After all, he had Ceri—all too willing a partner, she'd guess—to turn to, to relieve any frustration he might experience. And, no doubt, there were others too. ...

  'So I don't need to apologise,' Jason said slowly.

  'Indeed not. At least, not for the fact that you tried.' Linzi picked a bracken frond from the bank and plucked at it. 'But don't bother again. As I say, it was quite enjoyable, but. . .'She shrugged, leaving him to complete the sentence.

  Which he evidently did. 'Not up to Richard's standard, I guess,' he said with heavy irony, and Linzi felt her fists clench as the familiar indignation rose within her. Somehow she kept her voice level as she faced him.

  'No! Nowhere near, if you must know. And I've told you before, keep that tone out of your voice when you mention Richard—or don't mention him at all! He's out of your league, Jason Carver—way, way out of your league!'

  Summoning all her reserves, she held Jason's stare. The thought of the afternoon's kisses almost weakened her with the knowledge that nothing she had said was true—but she dared not let Jason see it. Once he knew his effect on her, she would have no defence. Richard was her only safeguard against him.

  Jason's eyes were a cold blue as he looked back at her, and she knew a sudden qualm. She must now have lost for ever any good opinion he might have had of her. And suddenly, unable to tolerate his gaze any longer, she turned away and walked through the gate and into the yard. For once, the sight of the house gave her no pleasure at all. She scarcely acknowledged Hugh's welcoming smile as she walked slowly through to the terrace and sank down on one of the chairs.

  Jason didn't reappear, and Linzi was left to drink her tea in peace and to reflect on the way she felt compelled to leap to Richard's defence whenever Jason mentioned his name. Even to the extent of exaggerating his abilities, she admitted ruefully. Because she knew that Richard had never roused
her to one-tenth of the passion that Jason had. And probably never would.

  Well, all right. Wasn't that what she wanted?

  Thinking this over, Linzi wondered why she was now concerned to make an impression at dinner tonight. Was it just ordinary female competitiveness, or something more? Professional pride, perhaps—Ceri would certainly be expecting the famous model to appear as something special and would no doubt make an effort of her own. Or was there some deeper instinct involved?

  Shrugging her slim shoulders, she turned to the door and opened it. The sun had set and dusk pervaded the passage and stairs. Linzi switched on the light and began to go down.

  'Yes,' said Jason's voice from below, 'you make a very effective model.'

  Linzi paused, staring at him as he came out of the shadows. Her pulses quickened. It was the first time she had seen him in formal clothes, and the dinner-jacket and dazzling white shirt suited his dark, saturnine good looks. His eyes were like sapphires as he watched her, and from the cuffs of his shirt the colour was picked up by jewelled links.

  Linzi came down slowly, still transfixed. This was a different Jason from the one she knew. But did she know him at all? There were so many unsuspected sides to him—she was beginning to wonder.

  'That dress,' said Jason, walking round her as she reached the hall, 'is what you must wear for the figure. It's exactly what I had in mind and it suits you to perfection.' He looked into her eyes and as she saw his face change something seemed to move inside her. 'Linzi, I've got to talk to you. I wish to hell ‑' But what he wished, she didn't find out; for at that moment the doorbell rang.

  Ceri was, as Linzi had expected, dressed in a way that exactly suited her petite beauty, and in a way directly designed to appeal to men. Her dress was ruby-red, setting off her dark hair and eyes and accentuating her pale complexion. The plunging neckline did little to conceal the full, ripe breasts, reaching almost to the tiny waist below which the skirt billowed. One day, Linzi thought, Ceri would have a weight problem. Just now, looking at the curvaceous figure and provocative eyes and mouth, she couldn't blame any man for wanting to take her straight to bed.

  The meal was a good one, cooked exquisitely by Hugh, who joined them for it. It was clear that he and Jason were good friends rather than employer and man, and Linzi had already realised just how invaluable Hugh was, both as cook and 'general dogsbody', as he had described himself, and as secretary. She ate the smoked mackerel pate that formed the first course with relish, and asked Hugh if he had made it himself.

  'Oh yes. I've always enjoyed cooking. But don't fill yourself up with it, Linzi—' she'd asked him to call her that on her second day '—I've something special for the main course.'

  'Hugh!' Ceri clasped her hands. 'You haven't made my favourite?'

  'If your favourite happens to be boeuf bourguignon, yes,' Hugh answered, and his eyes met Linzi's in a flash of amusement. She had the sudden idea that whatever he had prepared would have proved to be Ceri's favourite, and smiled, wondering how Jason could be taken in by such an obvious approach. Clearly, Hugh wasn't.

  The casserole arrived, accompanied by jacket potatoes and salad, and Linzi tasted it with enthusiasm. But her enjoyment was marred by the way Ceri had moved her chair a fraction nearer to Jason's, so that their arms touched; by the way she kept all the conversation and attention directed upon herself, with tiny, flirtatious movements and glances; and by the way that Linzi herself was gradually excluded, so that the party eventually became a tête-à-tête between Jason and Ceri, with Hugh and herself as mere onlookers.

  It was with relief that, when the hazelnut meringue had been finished and Hugh had gone to the kitchen to fetch the coffee, she heard the phone ring and realised that it was probably Richard. She hurried out to the hall to speak to him.

  'Yes, yes, I'm fine,' she said when they were finally connected. 'It's lovely to hear you. Yes, everything's all right.' Quickly she gave him the outline of her assignment, adding that she'd known Jason for years, he had lived as one of her family. 'Where are you going next? Are there any changes in your schedule?'

  'Only one so far. The hotel's been changed in Vienna— a fire or something. Wait a moment, I'll read out the address.' Linzi wrote it down, repeating it to make sure she got it right. 'Now, you will keep in touch, won't you, darling? Letters ought to reach me now, if you don't want to use the phone. I'll ring you when I can, will that be all right?'

  'Yes. Yes, please ring, Richard.' Linzi held the phone close against her ear, suddenly longing for his reassuring presence. 'Goodbye, darling. I'll write soon. 'Bye. . . .'

  The phone went dead and she held it for a moment before replacing it. Richard had sounded so very far away. She wished that he'd never had to go, feeling uneasily that nothing could ever be quite the same again. This parting was going to change things between them, and she didn't want it to. Then she shook herself angrily. She was letting herself get fanciful! Letting Richard's fears get through to her, even though he had seemed reassured tonight.... Abruptly, she put back the receiver and turned to go into the sitting-room.

  Ceri was there alone. She looked up and smiled as Linzi came in.

  'I take it that was your fiancé. Is everything going well?'

  'Yes, fine.' Linzi dropped on to the sofa. 'He's going on to Vienna soon. Keeping abreast of our banking connections in other capitals.' She paused. 'You know, I feel sure I've seen you before—and not just in bronze in Jason's studio.'

  Ceri smiled. 'I'm an actress. Oh, not terribly serious— but I've done a bit of TV. That may be where you've seen me. I'm not working at the moment.' She gave her tinkling laugh. 'The trouble is, I was a stage-struck teenager, and happened to have some talent as well. But I don't think the stage is for me really—I'm too lazy. By the time I'd discovered what hard work it all is, I'd become established, in a small way, and now I don't know what else I could do.' Her glance this time was pure mischief. 'Marry a rich man, I suppose is the answer—but he'd have to be local. I couldn't leave Wales.'

  The implication was obvious, as obvious as the 'keep off the grass' flash of the eyes that accompanied it. Linzi raised her eyebrows. She had no intention of trespassing in that particular meadow, and she would have liked to tell Ceri so—but something stopped her. Let the other girl think what she liked! There was no official understanding between her and Jason, and until there was she would have to take her chance. There was no need, no need at all, to let her know that Linzi was no competition. If an engagement ring wasn't enough to tell her that, then nothing else would convince her anyway.

  Maybe Ceri was ruthless enough herself to take another girl's fiancé if she wanted him. And believed that every other girl was the same. In which case, she deserved to worry a little.

  The door, left ajar, pushed open as Bracken came through ahead of Jason, who was carrying a tray of coffee. The two girls watched as he set it down, explaining that Hugh had decided to deal with some correspondence, and Linzi took the cup he handed to her, refusing sugar.

  'You never remember that,' she remarked lightly. 'I've never taken sugar, even as a child.'

  'A child?' Ceri pounced. 'How long have you known Jason, then?'

  'Oh, always.' Linzi smiled. 'My parents brought him up. Haven't you told her that, Jason? He was practically my brother.'

  'Your parents?' Ceri looked put out. 'Well, I knew about his early life, of course—but I never connected it with you ‑'

  'No reason why you should, since I never told you that.' Jason lounged easily across to draw the curtains. 'And I'd be obliged if the two of you would refrain from discussing me as if I weren't here! Look—' he glanced at his watch '—there are one or two of those letters that I need to deal with myself. D'you mind if I leave you for half an hour? And you can spend the time discussing, me to your hearts' content!'

  His grin was wicked, turning Linzi's heart over even though she knew that it was at Ceri it was mostly directed. He picked up his coffee-cup and drained it; then left the room with an ea
sy stride, followed by the big Alsatian and leaving the two girls in an uncomfortable silence.

  'So you and Jason were brought up together,' Ceri said at last. 'That must have been—interesting.'

  'Oh, yes. Though of course by the time I was old enough to take notice, he was away a good deal. I suppose that's why I looked up to him so much. Hero-worshipped him, if you like. I just lived for the times when he came home.'

  'I see.' Ceri stirred her coffee, the soft lamplight glowing oil her ruby-red dress and gleaming dark curls. 'And now? Is he still your—hero?'

  Linzi laughed. 'Oh, I hardly think so! We haven't even met for five years.' No need to mention the disastrous engagement; that was a memory still too tender to explore.

  'And now you're together again. Didn't you think it seemed strange—Jason thinking of you after all that time?'

  'Not really. It's purely professional.' But it was clear that Ceri didn't believe this, and Linzi made no attempt to emphasise it. 'Of course, when you're really close to someone time doesn't seem all that important....'

  Ceri's head snapped up. 'But you're engaged to someone else, aren't you? You're not interested in Jason— you can't be.' She paused as if considering, then added in a voice lull of venom, 'Look, let's stop beating about the bush. I'm quite well aware of what was going on in that chapel this afternoon. Dad and I came along just in time, didn't we? You thought you'd have Jason nicely snared— and it didn't work. And it won't work, either. All right, he's susceptible—what man isn't when a girl with your kind of looks throw herself at his head? Not Jason, anyway—he's always been ready to take his opportunities, and why not? But it wouldn't have meant anything even if I hadn't come along. Because I mean to have Jason Carver. I've been working towards it for years—ever since he first came here. He's not been an easy fish to play, but I'm just on the edge of hooking him now, and I'm not having all that time and patience wasted. So just you take yourself back to London, Linzi Berwick, and marry your banker. Whatever idea it is you've got in your head, it isn't going to work—I'll make damned sure of that!'