No Provocation

by Weston, Sophie

  There were sounds of movement on the stairs. Justin straightened at once.

  `Time I was off.'

  He did not kiss her. Candy noted it desolately. At once she took herself to task for inconsistency. It did not make it any the less hurtful.

  As if he sensed something, Justin hesitated. He looked down at her. 'Have dinner with me tonight.' It was an order. 'I'll pick you up at eight.'

  He was gone before she could reply. When Judith Neilson came into the kitchen he was already closing the front door behind him

  `Was that Justin?' she asked. 'Maria said he was here.' `Yes,' muttered Candy.

  'I must say, he seems very devoted,' Judith said. She sounded uneasy. 'You won't let him hurt you, will you, darling?'

  Candy was startled out of her own thoughts. `Sorry?'

  Judith gave a faintly embarrassed laugh. 'You're such a child sometimes. He's a charmer, I grant you. With a track record to prove it. Oh, darling, are you sure about this marriage? I don't want you to lose your heart just because no one's ever swept you off your feet before.'

  `I know what I'm doing,' Candy said carefully.

  `You think you do. I wish,' said Judith with unusual force, 'you could see what he's doing. He's been cutting a swath through more sophisticated ladies than you for years. Why do you suppose he wants to marry you? It's no coincidence that you're your father's daughter with ten per cent of Neilson's shares in trust. He's a practised heart-throb. Oh, darling, be careful. That man has got you tied up in knots so you can't see straight.'

  Candy felt suddenly tired. 'Maybe,' she said. 'But can you see any straighter?'

  She got up and left before Judith could answer. But the unpleasant little exchange had done its work. She could not put it out of her mind.

  She met him on the doorstep that evening and closed the front door as her mother called out. She took his arm and urged him away from the house.

  `Do you always get your own way, Justin?' she asked abruptly.

  His brows flew up. 'What brought that on?' he demanded, evidently astonished.

  Candy looked him between the eyes. 'The way you—handle me,' she said in a harsh voice.

  He looked unforgivably amused. 'But I've been at great pains not to handle you,' he pointed out. 'We agreed on it.'

  She flushed. 'Maybe that's what I mean.' He drew a sharp breath. Candy swept on, 'You manipulate me, don't you? Sometimes I feel you know something I don't—like some business partner you're taking for a ride. And are going to make a fortune out of.'

  She rounded on him and surprised an expression on his face which startled her.

  `You're confusing my business ethics with your father's,' he said harshly.

  `I'm not. I—'

  `Yes, you are. Either that or you've been listening to nonsense about those shares of yours. Look at me, Candy.'

  Slightly alarmed, she did. His face was grim. She had a sudden uncomfortable vision of what he must be like as an opponent. At the same time she saw, in a flash of enlightenment, how gentle had been her own treatment at his hands up to now.

  He said, `Do you really think those shares are important?'

  She was alarmed. But she was not going to be less than honest in the face of that stern demand.

  `I don't know,' she replied truthfully. 'Sometimes it seems ridiculous—like something out of a detective story. I can't believe that you would get married for a reason like that. Then I think that this whole thing is completely unbelievable—so why not?'

  He said fiercely, 'Give the damn things away.'

  `What?'

  His eyes were bitter. 'You get them when you marry? Fine. Sign them over to the Homeless Centre as a wedding present to me. Put them into a new trust. Make your father a trustee if you want to. If you trust him.'

  She could not bear the bitter look.

  `I'd rather trust you,' she said impulsively.

  There was a tense silence. Then Justin gave a shaken little laugh.

  `Well, don't make me a trustee,' he said at last. 'That would convince your father he's right.'

  Candy said in a small voice, 'I'm sorry.'

  Justin didn't say that no apology was necessary. He smiled at her, but she could see it was an effort. The shadow was still there.

  She went on, 'It was unkind. And unjustified. And bad manners.'

  He said lightly, 'Well, I wouldn't have said manners were your strong suit. Not the way you flung me out of the house this morning.'

  Candy was grateful. She sent him a look which held a gleam of mischief.

  `Until I met you I was the best-behaved girl in the Western hemisphere,' she insisted. 'You seem to make me mad faster than anyone I've ever known.'

  Justin managed to look gratified. For a moment she had a twinge of panic. Was this the practised seducer lulling her into acquiescence? Then her sense of humour got the better of her. She tugged at his arm.

  `Oh, come on, damn you. Feed me and we'll forget it.'

  He raised his eyebrows. But he fell into step beside her.

  For the rest of the evening he was a model escort, consulting her preferences, setting her chair, taking the

  wine from the waiter to fill her glass himself. And all the time his eyes never left her face.

  She ran out of bright conversation before the coffee. The tension was almost tangible. Justin was aware of it, she knew, though it did not seem to disturb him as it did her. She cursed her too revealing skin and held her shaking hands in her lap. By the time he drove her home, she was reduced to the silence of profound self-consciousness.

  He stopped the car at the end of the quiet street. She looked at him in surprise. The rain had stopped but there was a fine mist; they would get wet in walking back to the house. But she said nothing.

  For a moment they sat in the warmth of expensive leather in silence. Then Justin opened his door and swung lithely out of the car. Silently Candy allowed him to help her out of the low-slung seat. His hands were courteous, impersonal almost. There was no reason for the cold little curl of excitement that made her shiver at the brief touch.

  He closed the door and locked it, glancing down at her. She began to move towards the house, her high heels loud on the pavement, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. She looked back enquiringly.

  Justin said softly, 'Just one thing.'

  She should have seen it coming, but she didn't. He had barely touched her in all the weeks of their engagement. It had never occurred to her that the cool, sophisticated Justin would whip her into a passionate embrace in the middle of a public street under a streetlamp.

  And of the passion there was no doubt. Justin was not a schoolboy, and this was no token goodnight kiss. She felt savaged, devoured. It was terrifying. Justin seemed completely unmoved.

  He stepped back. Candy put out a hand to steady herself in the reeling world. To her fury it was shaking. She propped herself against the lamp-post and let the comforting anger take over.

  `What the hell do you think you're doing?' she rapped. The street was not even empty. In the distance there was a policeman and a man walking a dog on a lead. She was on fire with embarrassment and it made her sharper than she intended. 'You have no right to maul me like that.'

  He looked at her thoughtfully. Candy knew that her mouth was swollen and her lips were trembling. It added fuel to her fury. She glared at him in the neon blaze.

  Justin was neither embarrassed nor repentant. 'We had a bargain,' he reminded her.

  Candy closed her eyes. 'Quite. I didn't break it.' `I think perhaps you did,' he said gently.

  Her eyes flew open. 'What?'

  His expression was wry. 'I was promised no provocation.'

  `Are you saying that I... You're crazy,' Candy said with conviction. 'What on earth did I do to make you think... ?' For all her brave temper, she was nearly crying.

  `You said you weren't happy about my not touching you,' he reminded her gently. He shrugged. 'You can't have it both ways, you know.'

  She
didn't want to think about that. He was too acute;

  he had noticed what she was only half aware of herself. She said hurriedly, 'You misunderstood me.'

  Justin did not say anything for a moment. Then, 'Are

  you sure?'

  She didn't answer that, turning away and walking rapidly to the shallow steps that led up to the front door. The black and white squares were lit by the carriage lamp that was generally left on until her father got home. She

  stopped in the lea of the well-trimmed bay tree in its tub, and turned to Justin.

  `I don't know what you're trying to do to me,' she burst out.

  Justin put one foot on the bottom step. 'But it isn't so hard to work out,' he said in his most reasonable voice. 'And I thought we might do it together.'

  Candy backed, bracing herself against the door.

  `Don't.' Her voice cracked.

  He shook his head. 'You don't mean that.'

  `I do.' She sounded breathless and about thirteen, she thought in disgust, even as her trembling hands pressed against the wood behind her.

  `I don't think so. But if you do—' he seemed about to reach for her, but at her instinctive flinching his hands dropped to his side ' —then I ought to tear up this licence and stand down St Luke's.' He paused. 'Is that what you want?'

  `No.' It was not much more than a whisper, but it was unmistakably sincere. She bit her lip. 'I mean, not unless you want to. Tear it up, I mean. I—oh ...' She dashed a hand angrily across her face.

  Justin said very gently, 'Candy, I don't think you know what you want.' He came up a step. Now, I do know.' She looked up at that.

  `I want you,' he told her evenly. 'As my wife. But not at any price. If you don't want the same, then let's say goodbye now. Tonight. I won't pursue you any further. Your parents will be delighted.' His lips twitched. 'And you can go back to being the best-behaved girl in the Western hemisphere.' He looked at her. 'Is that what you want?'

  `No.' It was strangled and utterly spontaneous.

  Justin made a little acknowledging movement of his head, but he said nothing. Candy drew a steadying breath.

  `I mean, I've taken the decision,' she said hurriedly. `I've got used to it. I—can't go back.'

  He looked at her steadily.

  `I hope not,' he said at last. He went down the steps and turned. 'Eleven o'clock. Thursday. St Luke's,' he said. He hesitated, and then gave her that lop-sided smile. `Don't let me down,' he added very softly.

  Candy stood stone still and watched. He did not turn back. Beating in her brain was the thought that, however clever and manipulative he might be, that had sounded not like an order but a plea.

  Two days later Candy got herself into a green dress with dashing yellow satin reveres and cuffs and went to her wedding. She had no hat but she swirled her curls up into an electric tumble on the crown of her head. It made her chin look more pointed and her eyes huge. Normally she didn't wear jewellery, but today she dug out the opal drops her grandmother had given her for her sixteenth birthday and put them in her ears. She was quite pleased with the effect.

  She hesitated. Then she dusted a touch of blusher across her pale cheeks and a fingertip of green shadow over her eyes. She turned her head in front of the mirror. She looked, well, not pretty—bony redheads with freckles weren't ever going to look pretty—but quite well groomed and unusually confident.

  Candy grinned suddenly at her reflection. 'Getting married must agree with you,' she told it.

  She picked up her soft black woollen cloak, delicately frilled at the throat, swung it round her as if she were a bullfighter, and went out to get a taxi to her wedding.

  The church was large and echoing. It struck dark as she came in out of the thin sunshine. She couldn't see anything except the high window behind the altar.

  For a moment, she stood stock still, attacked by the wildest trepidation: maybe it was the wrong church, the wrong time, the wrong day; maybe Justin had changed his mind, been called away...

  Then she heard his voice, warm and close.

  `You're here,' Justin said with ineffable satisfaction.

  She felt a gentle kiss on her cheek, and found that a small posy of white rose and trailing shamrock had been pushed into her hands. She turned, but he was already a shadow, disappearing down the aisle. Above her head the organ started, unexpectedly. Candy jumped and then, belatedly, realised that Justin must have arranged it. Her eyes were misty as she started down the aisle on her own to join him.

  It was a simple ceremony. Presumably that also was at Justin's instigation. But it was beautiful. She had wondered if it would feel furtive and somehow not quite thorough, but it was perfection. She found herself making her vows in a low voice, repeating them in her head. Once she faltered, and felt Justin take her hand in the darkness.

  It's going to be all right, she thought, astonished and yet somehow deeply peaceful.

  `You may kiss the bride,' said the interested cleric.

  Justin touched his lips to hers very gently, and then raised their clasped hands and feathered a kiss across her fingers. Candy stared straight into his eyes as he lifted his head. In the uncertain light he looked almost—reverent, she thought: unusually serious, a little hesitant, very open, as if he was laying his heart bare for her to see. She caught her breath.

  At her shoulder she heard the unmistakable sound of a sentimental rush of tears being swallowed. At once Justin's solemnity was banished, and he turned to put his arm round Alison James, the secretary Candy had already met.

  `It's all right, Allie. That's the slushy bit over,' he said lightly.

  Candy flinched. The flippancy grated. She had been so certain there was something there in the beautiful words. Yet now, in a breath, in a couple of words, he was the cynical sophisticate she knew, who did not care profoundly for anything.

  She managed a smile, but it was mechanical. She accepted the congratulations of genuinely moved witnesses, but the magic had gone out of the day. She was quiet through the cheerful lunch party at the Ritz, and only really focused her whole attention on the conversation when she heard a word she recognised

  `Honeymoon?' she echoed, sitting up.

  `You weren't listening,' said Justin smugly. 'Only a week, I'm afraid. It's all I can manage at the moment. I arranged it. All by myself, too. The arranging, that is. I hope to spend the honeymoon accompanied.'

  He grinned at Candy across the table. She swallowed hard and gave him a weak smile in return.

  Alison said suspiciously, 'You haven't booked a journey for yourself in years. Why didn't you ask me to do it?'

  `Because I have a sense of tradition,' Justin retorted.

  Alison laughed and flung up her hands in defeat. 'All right. You're the last romantic man in London, and I'm impressed. Where are you going?'

  `Somewhere,' said Justin superbly, 'where you and the board won't find us. As you didn't book it.'

  In spite of herself, his humour was infectious. Candy began to laugh. 'You're not romantic,' she accused him at last, when she could speak. 'You're just practical.'

  Justin was hurt. 'Can't a man be both?'

  She said, almost without a tremor, 'Perhaps. But don't try to con me, Justin Richmond. You're not.'

  There was a lurking smile in his eyes. 'One day you'll eat your words,' he promised.

  Mrs James, looking from her employer to his new bride, gave a sentimental sigh which startled Candy. Justin looked faintly amused. But Candy was frankly embarrassed when, minutes later, Alison told Paul Summers he didn't want a brandy and they left.

  `Have a wonderful honeymoon,' Alison said, going.

  Justin stood up courteously. Candy watched with blank eyes. A honeymoon, she thought, the word going round and round in her head like a broken record. How in the world am I going to get through a honeymoon?

  CHAPTER SIX

  JUSTIN TOOK Candy to a long, rambling stone farmhouse in Provence. It was set on its own hillside which was already ablaze with spring flowers. Can
dy got out of the car and looked at it doubtfully. It looked very lonely.

  Justin watched her, his mouth quirking.

  `Don't look so alarmed. We have running water and plenty of wood for fires.'

  Candy jumped. 'That wasn't—'

  `And you can choose your own bedroom,' he added gently.

  `Oh.' She swallowed. She did not know whether she was relieved or hurt. Relieved, she assured herself—on the whole. She made herself meet his eyes. 'Yes, that's what I was thinking,' she said honestly.

  He was calm. 'It would be astonishing if you weren't. But there's no need to panic. We've gone at your pace up to now, haven't we?'

  She thought in a flash of the heart-stopping glimpse of passion he had afforded her in that unexpected goodnight kiss; of the embrace in his flat; of the way he had swept her into a whole new world of sensation the very first time he kissed her. To say nothing of when she had kissed him. She remembered that smoky dance-floor and her own uncharacteristic behaviour all too vividly. Her pace?

  `I'm not sure what my pace is any more,' Candy said ruefully. 'It used to be dead stop. But these days—I don't know; I don't seem to know myself any more.'

  `Interesting,' murmured Justin.

  Or she thought he did. He was too busy getting cases out of the car for her to be sure.

  In the house, however, he was as good as his word. He gave her a pretty panelled room on the first floor with a view of the glimmering valley and the hills behind. She flew to the window with an exclamation of delight. Justin laughed, putting down a small case on a chair.

  Candy turned. 'What on earth have you got there?'

  Justin grinned. 'Maria is a first-class conspirator. I told her to pack you something warm and comfortable suitable for country walks.'

  Candy stared. 'And she just did what you told her? Without even telling me?'

  `Don't sound so annoyed. She offered to pack some clothes for you.' Justin chuckled. 'Or I'd have had to buy you some, and I wasn't sure you'd care for that.'

  There was a long pause while Candy assimilated this.