He now had her pinned against the wall of the house and she could feel not only the full force of his exasperation but also all the things that drove her a little crazy about him. The power of his tall frame, the heady scent of pure man, his hands that she loved and sometimes couldn’t look at without remembering them on her body before he’d stopped touching her in a certain way.
‘What do you…mean?’ she stammered.
‘I mean,’ he said through his teeth, ‘the way women specialise in making it clear they have a grievance but refuse to articulate it.’
Her heart was hammering uncomfortably but the injustice of this was too much in that this was no ordinary grievance surely?
‘Are we all the same?’ she asked. ‘Or would you rather I was like Paula Littleby and told the whole world?’
‘No. I’d rather you told me.’
‘I don’t think this is a very good idea, that’s all,’ she said at last.
‘When did you ever, Mel?’ His eyes bored into hers.
‘I mean—I don’t mean us getting married.’ She swallowed.
He was dead still for a moment then appeared to tone down his exasperation a notch. ‘What, then?’
‘I don’t think we should argue in front—’
‘In front of the kids?’ His gaze was withering but he did look around then. ‘There’s not a one in sight,’ he added sardonically, however.
‘That doesn’t mean to say—’
‘How right you are if you mean the walls have ears. OK. If you would just tell me what’s really bothering you,’ he went on more normally, ‘maybe I can fix it.’
‘Etienne,’ she drew a deep breath, ‘I’m sorry. I’ve probably made a mountain out of a molehill but it was highly embarrassing at the time. Not only that but also I hate to think of Tosh being confused and Ewan being embarrassed about it all.’
‘They’ve probably put it all behind them by now. Are you sure that’s it?’
‘Yes.’
He observed her critically then frowned. ‘You know, I would have thought this time for you,’ he gestured down towards her leg, ‘would have been the perfect opportunity for you to really get to work on one of your beloved causes.’
‘I—’ She hesitated. ‘After the debacle of the Littlebys, I wondered if I do rush in where angels fear to tread so I decided to re-evaluate my…thinking a bit.’
‘Blow the Littlebys,’ he said roughly. ‘Don’t you dare change there either.’
‘How else have I changed?’
He paused. ‘You used to—tell me everything.’
‘Did I?’ she asked with some irony.
He shrugged. ‘I clearly recall all the ups and downs of your wedding day.’
‘But when I tried to explain why I was having reservations about us, you—weren’t that impressed.’
He ignored the last bit and pounced on the first bit of her comment. ‘So those reservations are still there?’
‘I don’t know.’ She hesitated. ‘Things have changed so much because of this.’ She looked down at her cast.
‘Things had to change.’
‘Yes. Of course.’
‘We seem to be going round in circles here,’ he said slowly.
She cleared her throat. ‘Sorry. My fault, I guess. My sense of humour may have got a bit battered along with my leg.’
He smiled slightly. ‘I didn’t realise Ewan had such a temper.’
‘He doesn’t lose it often but when he does…’ She shrugged.
Justin came out onto the veranda and Etienne moved away from Mel. ‘He’s right, though,’ he said with a grin. ‘Tosh has all the tact of a tank. I’ve just come to report that they’re talking to each other again.’
And so the situation defused itself. Beyond a searching look at her, Etienne made no further comment then or later.
‘Mrs B,’ Mel said on the afternoon of the dinner party, ‘if you wanted to look particularly stunning, would you wear this or this?’
Two outfits from her first consignment of designer clothes lay on her bed.
‘Well, now.’ Mrs Bedwell studied the two outfits, a long black dress with a square neckline, and a gorgeous white linen blouse with a floral skirt with lace inserts. ‘I have no idea! You’ll have to try them on.’
‘That—is not so easy! Anyway, anything I wear is going to look ridiculous,’ Mel added with sudden despair.
Mrs Bedwell cast her a narrow little look. ‘Honey,’ she said, ‘that’s just not true—’
‘But—’
‘No, listen to me, Mel! Everything is under control. The table looks wonderful; trust me, the food will have them in transports! And I still believe all you have to do is be yourself.’
Mel was sitting on the bed next to her new clothes, and she took a deep breath.
‘I’ll help you try them on,’ Mrs Bedwell added.
Half an hour later, she made her choice. ‘The blouse and skirt. You look more comfortable in them, you look young and lovely!’
Mel picked up the white linen blouse. It had cap sleeves, a keyhole opening below the neckline and a broad lace insert above the waist then a peplum that covered the top of the skirt.
‘I did feel comfortable in it,’ she agreed, ‘but not that sophisticated.’ She eyed the black dress.
‘The cast seems to be more noticeable against the black; not only that, it may not be a good idea to try for too much sophistication,’ Mrs Bedwell said shrewdly, ‘with a broken leg.’
‘You’re right,’ Mel agreed ruefully. ‘OK, will you help me wash my hair?’
‘Sure thing!’
Several hours later all was ready, the guests were due shortly, the old house looked wonderful and the boys had all gone to spend the night with friends.
Mel was dressed and ready and quite pleased with what she saw. She’d even experimented in front of the mirror and decided that her blouse was rather tantalising. The keyhole opening gave subtle glimpses of her breasts as she moved. Would it tantalise Etienne? she wondered. Would it cause him to want to rip it off her? What would it be like to have him touch her breasts and kiss them?
She closed her eyes and sighed. What was the point of fantasising? What was the point of—anything any more? And she suddenly found herself unable to leave her room.
Then the door clicked open and Etienne stood there with two glasses in his hands. She’d seen him when he’d come home from work then they’d both gone to get changed—she with Mrs Bedwell’s help and a relayed invitation to join Etienne in the lounge when she was dressed.
‘I was coming,’ she lied, from the depths of the armchair.
‘Sure.’ He put a glass in her hand and a little box in her lap. ‘By the way, Roger Mason had to go home because of an abscess on a tooth so his son David is taking his place tonight.’
‘Oh! That’s thoughtful of them.’
‘Yes. You’ll probably like him. He’s doing architecture at university.’
‘What is this?’ Mel asked of the drink.
‘Brandy. I always like one before any ordeal.’ He sat on the end of the bed. His curly hair was tamed and he wore a cream shirt with a charcoal suit and a sage-green tie with topaz elephants on it.
She blinked at the tie. ‘That’s rather—colourful!’
He squinted down at it. ‘It’s my good-luck tie.’
‘I’m the one who needs good luck tonight, not you!’
‘Well, since elephants work for me, I thought they might work for you, Mel. We could be—united in good luck. Open the box.’
She set her drink down and clicked open the box. There was a pair of earrings nestled on the white velvet, little pink elephants with ruby eyes and tiny diamond saddles on delicate gold chains.
‘Oh, they’re gorgeous!’ She looked up, her eyes alight.
‘Try them on.’
She did so and swung her head.
He smiled at her obvious pleasure then said gravely, ‘I promise, they do work.’
‘Elephants?’ A t
inge of curiosity entered her gaze. ‘How come? That you believe in them, I mean?’
‘I went to Africa once and got charged by an elephant protecting her calf. It made an indelible impression on me.’
‘I would have thought a flattening impression!’
‘Oh, I was in a Land-Rover and we managed to move off in time.’ He looked wry. ‘When I came home, I designed a logo for Hurst Engineering & Shipping that I still use now.’ He paused. ‘We’ve gone from strength to strength ever since.’
Mel took a breath. ‘You do know the African elephant is in danger of extinction?’
‘Yes, Mel. That’s why at the bottom of my logo there’s a “save the elephant” sign.’
She frowned. ‘I’ve never noticed it!’
‘The logo or the sign?’
‘Both! That’s…very remiss of me, Etienne, and I applaud you!’
‘Thank you.’ He stood up. ‘Finish your drink.’
But she stayed where she was, looking troubled.
‘Mel?’
‘Etienne, have you changed your mind about being married to me?’
There, it was out at last, she thought, but closed her eyes in despair at her timing.
He paused. ‘What makes you think that?’
‘I just wondered, that’s all,’ she murmured.
‘I thought I’d explained the situation,’ he said.
‘So you did.’ She reached for her crutches and got up at last. ‘OK. I’m ready.’
‘Mel,’ he looked at her grimly, ‘is that what’s been worrying you? Why the hell couldn’t you have told me sooner?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
He studied her from the top of her head to her toes. Her hair was loose tonight although tucked behind her ears. Her eyes were like deep blue pansies and despite the cast she was lovely, achingly lovely, but so—untouched and innocent, he thought.
‘Whatever happens to this marriage,’ he said harshly, ‘you, the boys and Raspberry Hill will be safe.’
Mel’s heart sank like a stone. ‘What does that mean?’ she whispered with her eyes widening.
‘It means I’d set up a trust if necessary—and please don’t start on about charity.’ He looked at her drily and someone knocked on the door.
It was Mrs Bedwell with the news that the first car was coming up the drive.
‘We’re coming,’ Etienne said without turning his head.
‘I can’t!’ Mel said in sudden panic.
‘Yes, you can. It was all your idea anyway.’ He walked to the door and held it open for her.
‘And now I know why you weren’t too keen on it,’ she retorted.
His hand closed on her wrist like a vice, then he swore as they heard Mrs Bedwell welcoming the Masons.
‘Afterwards,’ he said, and she had no doubt it was a threat.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THERE was not one glitch during the evening.
The Malaysian couples spoke beautiful English and were delighted to be in a private home. The wife of the RSPCA president was delighted to meet some of her compatriots. The mayor and his wife were either suffering from diplomatic or genuine memory loss but they made no mention of the Rimfire incident and obviously enjoyed themselves. The Masons, mother and son, were invaluable—and Sue Mason made no mention of the Tosh-Ewan debacle.
Mrs Bedwell excelled herself, the food was inspired, and Mel felt that in a quiet way she’d played the role of hostess well.
Moreover, thanks to Etienne’s social skills, no one would have guessed that they were in the middle of a domestic dispute.
Though unexpected assistance came to Mel from David Mason. She guessed he was about twenty-two, he was fair and of medium height with hazel eyes, and he was also articulate and humorous. Without appearing to try he made her laugh, and they discovered they were both horse mad.
Not that anything could make her forget the shadow over her life but David Mason’s wit and, if she was honest, his open admiration of her helped her get through the evening.
But all too soon the dinner party was over and she and Etienne were farewelling their guests side by side at the top of the veranda steps.
As the last car drove off, her nerves tightened and her fingers on the bars of her crutches whitened.
‘So,’ he said and loosened his tie, ‘a successful evening?’
‘I think so.’
‘Then what reason, other than the obvious, would I have had for not wanting you to hold it?’
She glanced up at him nervously, trying to gauge his mood, to encounter a narrowed and darkly probing look.
She licked her lips. ‘If you don’t intend to stay married to me, Etienne, it’s probably insensitive if nothing else to parade me around as your wife.’
‘And would you recommend that I stay married to a wife who really doesn’t want me?’ he drawled.
Mel took a ragged breath. ‘I haven’t said that.’
‘Let’s not beat about the bush—you haven’t exactly welcomed this marriage other than for the purpose of providing for your brothers and saving this place.’
The cool night air drew a shiver from her, but it wasn’t only the night air that made her feel chilled to the bone.
‘Etienne,’ she said quietly, ‘I shouldn’t have married you, I’m sorry. But I must point out that you don’t really want me. I mean—’
However, before she could go any further, Batman, newly released by Mrs Bedwell from his incarceration in the laundry, raced out onto the veranda like a streak of lightning. At the same time Mel, desperately concentrating on trying to make sense to Etienne, was taken so much by surprise she moved convulsively, lost her footing and toppled down the front steps.
Etienne tried to catch her but, in the mêlée of dog and crutches, he didn’t succeed. He scrambled down the steps. ‘Mel—Mel? Are you all right? For heaven’s sake, Mel—Batman, get lost!’ He shoved the dog away and sat down beside her to pull her into his arms. ‘Mel? My love,’ he said into her hair, ‘tell me you’re OK? Your leg…?’
Mel opened her eyes; the fall had winded her briefly, but she wondered if she’d lost consciousness because she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
‘What did you say?’ she whispered.
‘Your leg? And all your other bones—how do they feel?’
‘I don’t know yet, but I meant—before that, what did you say?’
‘I can’t remember,’ he said distractedly, now running his hands cautiously over her. ‘Why the hell am I so accident-prone when you’re with me?’
‘It wasn’t you, it was Batman. And it wasn’t you before, it was a rock and a tree.’
‘All the same, I hardly have a good record of keeping you safe and sound. Listen, let’s try and get you up.’
Two minutes later, she was standing on one foot and he was holding her around her waist. ‘What do you think?’ He scanned her face for any signs of pain.
‘I think I’m OK,’ she said cautiously. ‘I might have a few bruises, that’s all.’ Nevertheless, she suddenly burst into tears.
He swore beneath his breath, picked her up in his arms and carried her inside to her bedroom. On the way he encountered Mrs Bedwell looking wildly curious and apprehensive but he shook his head at her.
Once he’d laid Mel on her bed, propped against some pillows, he closed the door before coming back to the bed. ‘Tell me where it hurts,’ he said gently.
She wiped her face but the tears kept coming. ‘For a moment there I thought you’d called me your love but I must have been m-mistaken; that’s what hurts,’ she wept. ‘Otherwise I’m fine.’
‘Mel,’ he sat down on the side of the bed with a frown in his eyes, ‘isn’t that the last thing you’d want to hear?’
‘No! I’ve been so lost and lonely since the accident because I thought it might have happened for you as it had happened for me but it obviously hadn’t.’
‘It did happen,’ he said grimly. ‘Only it made me see the error of my ways, I
guess.’
‘What error of your ways?’ At last, the tears subsided and she stared at him with streaks of mascara down her face.
He leant forward and smudged them. ‘What error?’ he said with harsh lines scored beside his mouth. ‘How about forcing you to marry me?’
Her lips parted.
‘How about being quite sure that once I got you into my bed all your reservations would melt?’
‘Etienne—’
‘How about having to have Jim Dalton make me stop and think of you as a person who was a lot more mature than I ever gave you credit for?’
‘Is that—is that what Jim did?’
‘He also warned me against hurting you,’ he said drily, ‘but you see, Mel, not only did I underestimate you badly but I was also planning to rob you.’
‘I don’t see how.’ She looked around the chalk-blue bedroom. ‘Just about everything I have comes courtesy of you.’
‘I’m talking about your youth and your innocence and the fact that you haven’t had a chance yet to spread your wings and fall in love; have fun with…someone like David Mason, perhaps.’ His eyes were suddenly alert and probing.
‘I don’t want to fall in love with David Mason. I have already fallen in love, you see. Maybe it didn’t happen in a conventional way but it did happen.’
He hesitated. ‘What happened at the bottom of the embankment might not be a reliable guide, Mel.’
‘It’s not only what happened at the bottom of the embankment,’ she said. ‘I may not have been able to articulate this to myself before the accident and I certainly wasn’t able to explain it to you, but my deepest reservation about marrying you, Etienne, was the one to do with me…growing to love you…while you only wanted me.’
He let several beats pass.
Before he could say anything, she went on, ‘You once said something about going to the ends of the earth for each other. Well, since the accident, since you drew back from me, I’ve felt as if I’ve been at the end of the earth, in some cold, lonely, desolate place,’ she shuddered, ‘and I’m neither too young nor too innocent not to know why.’
‘You could have told me this,’ he said barely audibly.
‘Well, maybe that is one of the problems of being a bit young and innocent,’ she said with a little smile. ‘How to tell a man you’re not sure of how much you love him—is not in any etiquette book.’
The Unconventional Bride Page 14