Bought With His Name

by Penny Jordan

  She had not heard him come to bed. The phone had rung just as she was on the point of going upstairs and he had disappeared into the library, much to her relief. Lucy was a sensitive and intel­ligent child, and she had no idea how she was going to manage to preserve the united front Luke was insisting on, in her presence. She pushed the bed­clothes aside, tensing at the sudden nausea that overtook her. The meal the previous evening had been very rich, and it was no wonder she felt queasy—after all, she had eaten next to nothing over the last few days, being far too worked up to enjoy her food.

  By the time she reached the bathroom the sick­ness had subsided, leaving her feeling faintly shaky and very relieved. Being ill was the last thing she could cope with at the moment. She sensed that Luke would have scant sympathy and look upon her 'symptoms' as a means of evading his instruc­tions.

  Lucy was just pouring herself a cup of coffee when Genista walked into the kitchen. Dressed in a tee-shirt and jeans, the girl looked even younger than she had done the evening before.

  'Hi! I was just about to bring you a drink. Luke said not to wake you too early, and to tell you that he had to go to the office but that he'd be back around five.'

  Subsiding thankfully into a chair, Genista took the cup of coffee Lucy was proffering. At least she would have one day without Luke's unkind taunts and control-draining presence.

  'I thought I might go riding this morning,' Lucy informed her over breakfast. 'There's a stable just down the road. Fancy coming with me?'

  Outside the sun shone mellowly on the immacul­ate gardens, and the prospect of being out of doors was very tempting.

  'I'd love to,' Genista admitted. 'But I'm not a very good rider—in fact I haven't been on horse­back since my teens, and I haven't had time to explore the gardens yet.'

  'How about a compromise, then?' Lucy sug­gested cheerfully. 'Riding this morning, lunch here and then an exploration of the gardens—they stretch for quite a way, you know. As well as the formal gardens round the house, there are a couple of acres of grounds with woods, and a very pretty lake.'

  Lucy voiced no curiosity that Genista should know so little of her new home, and Genista silently blessed the girl's ready acceptance. She seemed happier this morning, and while Genista tidied away their breakfast things and wrote a note for Mrs Meadows Lucy dashed upstairs to change into riding gear. It would be perfectly all right for her to wear jeans, she had assured Genista when she expressed her doubts, and they would be able to hire hats from the stables.

  It had been so long since Genista visited the country proper that she had forgotten the simple delight of walking down a country lane early in the morning. The sky was that particularly soft shade of blue only seen in June, dew still sparkling on the grassy verges of the road. Beyond the hedge crops gleamed golden in fields speckled with the silky scarlet of poppies.

  'Umm, just taste this air!' Lucy sighed blissfully. 'It's like breathing freedom! I really hate school. Mother was very clever. She should have gone on to Cambridge, but she met Father instead. She keeps going on to me about having a career. She can't seem to understand that the things that inter­est her don't appeal to me.'

  'What would you like to do?' Genista asked, sympathising, but knowing how radically one's views could change between fourteen and twenty-four. In ten years' time Lucy might bitterly regret not being able to support herself. Genista had found that even where money was not an issue, many girls of her own generation found their careers so stimulating that they did not want to give them up. Thinking back to her own teens and the years before she met Richard, Genista could well re­member viewing unmarried girls in the village in their early twenties with mixed pity and horror, and she suspected that modern teenagers were no different, although with the example of her parents' marriage before her, Lucy was bound to be a little more mature.

  The stables were in a small hollow a little over a mile from the house. They had recently changed hands, Genista learned from the cheerful girl they found in the office-cum-tack room, but she was sure that Mr Lawson would be able to fix them up with a couple of mounts, if they could wait fifteen minutes until he had finished the lesson he was giving.

  With the whole day stretching lazily ahead of them, Genista was quite content to sit down and watch the stable cat basking drowsily in a sheltered corner of the yard, while Lucy and the stablegirl chattered happily together.

  She hadn't realised the intensity of the strain she had been under since her marriage, until she felt tiredness sweep over her. The fresh air probably hadn't helped she acknowledged, stifling a yawn. Heavens, she couldn't go to sleep here! Nevertheless that was what she was on the point of doing when a pleasant male voice roused her.

  'Sleeping Beauty, I presume,' its owner teased. 'What a pity you woke up. I was looking forward to rousing you in the time-honoured fashion.'

  From her sitting position on the old chair she had been provided with, Genista had to look up a long way to reach the thin, tanned face and amused blue eyes of the man who had just walked into the yard. As he was dressed casually in an open-necked shirt and jeans and ancient riding boots, scuffed and worn, she had no difficulty in placing him as the owner of the stables.

  He was younger than she had expected—some­where in his late twenties, she guessed, and to judge by the way he was looking at her slender figure in her old, tight-fitting jeans, horses weren't his only interest.

  'I'm Trevor Lawson,' he said, introducing him­self. 'Belinda said you were interested in hiring a couple of mounts.'

  'Yes, that's right,' Genista agreed, scrambling to her feet, aware of the warm tinge to her skin, where his eyes had rested on it—and knowing he was aware of it too.

  'My husband's niece was keen to ride and I said I'd come with her, although I'm no expert.'

  'Husband? So you're married?' Did he really sound faintly regretful, or was she merely imagin­ing it? 'Well, if you'd just care to follow me back into the office, to register, I'll see what I can do. I've only taken over this business recently, al­though I've lived in the area for several years.' He walked with a slight limp, which Genista hadn't noticed at first, and as though aware of it, he patted his leg lightly and said, 'I got this through T.T. racing—I was lucky I didn't lose my leg. My doctor recommended that I take up riding for therapy. I enjoyed it so much that I bought this place. No one wants a motor-cycle rider who's afraid of fall­ing off, and although I'm virtually okay now, as far as track racing goes, I've lost my nerve.'

  Although she was surprised that he should con­fide so much in someone who was virtually a stranger, Genista smiled sympathetically.

  'Do you live locally?' Trevor asked her, over his shoulder as he walked into the 'office'.

  'Not far away,' Genista replied, filling in the form he gave her. He looked at what she had writ­ten and whistled silently. 'You're married to Luke?'

  He sounded so surprised that Genista flushed defensively.

  'Oh, I'm sorry,' Trevor apologised instantly. 'I didn't mean it that way. It's just that I know Luke fairly well and he never mentioned . . . that is . . .'

  'They fell in love and were married almost straight away.' Lucy told him, materialising beside them. 'I think it's jolly romantic!'

  They exchanged smiles over her head at the schoolgirlish slang. Oh, to be Lucy's age again, Genista thought silently, when life could be viewed so easily at face value.

  'Well, I think I'd better give you a fairly placid mount for your first day out,' Trevor was saying. 'I don't want Luke accusing me of not taking proper care of you. He helped me a good deal with the finance for this venture,' he added to Genista when Lucy had been taken away by Belinda to choose her mount. 'A lot of people tend to think of him as a bit of an ogre—his reputation as a big businessman, I suppose. It gives the impression of ruthlessness, but of course Luke isn't like that at all. He's been marvellous to me, and the only con­dition he's made is that I teach the kids from the local handicapped school to ride, twice a week— something which is a p
leasure anyway. To see the way those kids enjoy themselves, the freedom riding brings them ...'

  He talked about his work with the children while he harnessed the gentle mare he had chosen for Genista. She was still trying to come to terms with Luke in this new role as benefactor!

  'Of course, Luke hates anyone talking about his generosity,' Trevor added as he helped her into the saddle. 'But then I suppose you already know that. He's a very complex character. I should hate to get on the wrong side of him, although one feels that he would always be scrupulously fair, unless of course his emotions were involved.' He looked thoughtfully at Genista, now seated on the back of the pretty bay mare. 'They say that still waters run deep and I imagine Luke's run deeper than most, but then you look as though you have the courage to cope with anything life might hold for you.'

  Had she? Genista mused as she and Lucy cantered past a herd of chomping cows. It was something she had never given much thought to in the past. She would need a great deal of courage if she was to survive her time with Luke and emerge unscathed from the agony their eventual parting would cause her.

  It was lunchtime before she and Lucy returned to the house. Mrs Meadows had left a cold meal for them, and over it, Lucy giggled that she rather suspected Trevor had fancied Genista.

  'I suspect he's the same with all women,' Genista told her dryly. 'He's certainly something of a char­mer.'

  'Umm—I think Belinda's in love with him,' Lucy told her, surprising Genista with her perception. 'She looks at him the same way Uncle Luke looks at you—sort of hungry.'

  Genista could have told her that there was more than one type of hunger, but she had no wish to disillusion her. Instead she reminded her that she had promised to show her round the gardens. She had no idea what Luke normally did in the evening. There was a huge freezer in the kitchen and pre­paring dinner would be no problem. She removed some steak, deciding that steak and salad with pate for a first course, and fresh fruit afterwards, was the sort of thing that appealed to most tastes.

  They walked round the formal gardens first. Half way round Genista suddenly felt very dizzy and had to sit down on the wooden bench conveniently to hand. The dizziness was followed by a bout of the same nausea she had experienced that morning, and she began to wonder if she could possibly have eaten something that disagreed with her.

  Lucy watched her anxiously for a few minutes, but when she asked if Genista would prefer to go back to the house Genista shook her head.

  If she went up to her room she would only lie there thinking about Luke, imagining how it could have been had he cared for her; had he felt love for her and not merely lust. The mere thought of his lovemaking made her tremble inwardly. Whatever happened she must never again allow herself to be trapped in a situation where she was so vulnerable to him. He had told her he was marrying her to satiate his desire, but that had been before; before he knew how inexperienced she was, and now that desire seemed to have waned completely, and he must surely be regretting their marriage. By the time they had reached the lake Genista was quite convinced that had it not been for his pride and the fact that Lucy was visiting them, he would have suggested they apply for a divorce the moment they returned from Cumbria. After all, despite his earlier comments he had made no attempt to so much as touch her since their return.

  Telling herself that she ought to be feeling relief, not an emotion which was perilously close to dis­appointment, she allowed Lucy to point out to her an old-fashioned punt secured by a small landing stage.

  'I wanted to try it last year, but Luke says he doesn't think it would be safe. He wants to drain the lake and have it cleaned. He says it's feet deep in mud, and that the punt could quite easily sink.'

  Looking into the still, murky water, Genista was inclined to agree with him, although like Lucy she could not quite ignore the age-old appeal of study­ing the bracken depths looking for some signs of life.

  'Luke wants to stock it with koi carp,' Lucy told her. 'They get so tame that you can feed them by hand.'

  'I know,' Genista agreed, remembering a holiday in Italy at a villa where one of the highlights of her day had been feeding the beautifully coloured carp in their marble pool.

  'Do you think my parents will stay together this time?' Lucy asked abruptly.

  'I don't know, Lucy.' Genista tried to be as gentle as she could. 'Life doesn't come with guarantees, although I know that's sometimes hard to accept. Try to tell yourself that it's enough that they care sufficiently for one another to try again. I think they're both very brave.'

  'Or foolish,' Lucy suggested in a slightly muffled voice. 'Genista, how do you know when love is real?'

  'It's something I can't explain.' It was getting towards late afternoon, and Genista knew that she should suggest that they return to the house, but it had obviously cost Lucy a great deal to confide in her, and she couldn't turn her away without at least trying to reassure her. 'First you have to try and differentiate between "real" and "for ever." When we fall in love, we take it for granted that that love will last for ever—sometimes it doesn't. That doesn't mean that we've failed, or that it's someone's fault. Life and people can't remain static all the time; things change. One of the hardest things for anyone to learn is the acceptance that happiness doesn't always last for ever.'

  'But knowing that, how can anyone commit their lives to another person?' The anguish in Lucy's eyes struck a chord deep within her own heart. How indeed? she could have said, but instead she reached for Lucy's hand, tanned, and faintly grubby, but already showing signs of the beauty the girl would one day possess.

  'Quite easily. I can't find the words to explain to you how it happens Lucy. I do understand how you feel; when I was not very much older than you something happened to me that made me feel as though I could never trust anyone else again as long as I lived—and certainly never love them.' Engrossed in trying to reassure Lucy, Genista didn't hear the faint sounds betraying the fact that they were no longer alone. 'But I did, and when you love you're willing to risk all the uncertainties in the world. That's something which is inherent in every human being. You wait and see. Love, true, proper love, does cast out all fear, which is what we're talking about, isn't it? The fear of something going wrong; of being hurt. When I fell in love with . . .' A twig snapped underfoot, and Genista spun round. Luke was leaning against a tree trunk several yards away. His face had gone white.

  'Uncle Luke!' Lucy raced towards him and the look of bitter hatred Genista had seen in his eyes was banished instantly.

  Lucy chattered ceaselessly to him all the way back to the house, pausing only to draw breath.

  'We went riding this morning,' she confided. 'I think Mr Lawson really fancied Genista. He couldn't stop looking at her, could he?'

  She turned to Genista for corroboration. Although the path was broad enough for three, she had fallen back, unable to bear such close proximity to Luke.

  'I've already told you,' Genista replied lightly, 'I suspect he flirts a little with all his lady customers. I wasn't sure what to do about dinner,' she told Luke. 'I've prepared a salad and I thought we'd have steak with it...'

  'Have whatever you like,' Luke told her curtly. 'I'm dining out.'

  Lucy pulled a face, but he wouldn't be swayed. He went upstairs when they entered the house, and Genista dawdled in the kitchen, not wanting to go into the bedroom while he was still there.

  Lucy wanted to watch a particular television programme and she had gone up to her bedroom to do so when Genista heard the kitchen door open. Luke was dressed elegantly in soft suede cream pants and a dark blue silk shirt, a leather jacket in his hand. His clothes, although expensive, were not the sort Genista would have expected him to wear for a business meeting, and jealousy tore at her with red-hot claws as she envisaged the sort of surroundings for which such casual clothes might be worn—a nightclub perhaps; a fashionable restaurant, but with whom? Her mouth tightened. So much for Luke's instructions that Lucy was not to be allowed to suspect how things w
ere between them! A hundred angry words clamoured for utter­ance, but all she could say was, 'Is this how you expect to convince Lucy that we're in love? By going out and leaving us alone?'

  'She'd be far more disillusioned if I stayed,' Luke said harshly. 'Because the way I feel at the moment, I'm liable to throttle you. And don't bother to wait up for me.'

  The phone rang as the Maserati roared down the drive, and Genista answered it. A woman with a smokily seductive voice asked for Luke and when Genista said that he had gone out, she laughed softly.

  'Good. I thought he might be late, but he's remembered that I hate to be kept waiting.'

  Genista could barely touch the steak. Images of Luke dining in some candlelit restaurant with the owner of the huskily wanton voice tormented her. She would not be a naive virgin! She would know everything there was to know about pleasing a man, it had all been there in her voice.'

  After dinner they would dance, perhaps, Luke holding her close enough to his body for her to feel every sinuous movement, and then later. . .

  'Genista! Are you all right?'

  Lucy's concerned voice brought her abruptly back to the dining table, and the mutilated roll lying in pieces on her plate.

  'I'm fine.' Only she wasn't. Her legs felt dread­fully weak, and silly tears weren't far away.

  'Well, I think it's really mean of Uncle Luke to work tonight.'

  'I expect it was something unavoidable,' Genista said lightly, trying not to let her voice tremble. She pushed away her strawberries and cream untouched. 'If you don't mind, Lucy, I think I'll have an early night. I'm feeling dreadfully tired for some reason. It must be all that fresh air.'

  'Mm, I'm feeling quite sleepy myself. I want to write to Mother, so I'll have an early night as well. Shall I do the washing up for you?'

  There was a luxurious dishwasher in the kitchen, but nevertheless they did the washing up between them, Genista finding comfort in the mechanically routine task. Lucy chatted about her school as they worked, and Genista learned that despite the younger girl's averred dislike of school, in reality she had a keen interest in literature and the arts.