'You. She still intends to get a divorce and marry you.'
'I see.' He subjected her to an intense stare. 'It's obviously made you angry.'
'Only because it's shown me how pointless it is for us to go on with this engagement Mrs Laughton knows it's a pretence.'
'Then marry me and show her she's wrong.'
Abby stared at him. The temptation to say yes was only momentary, yet enough to show her how easily love could make a fool of one's intelligence. What sort of happiness could she find married to a man who she knew was thinking of another woman each time he held her in his arms?
'Well, Abby?' Giles repeated. 'Why not do as I suggest and marry me?'
'Are you such a coward that the only way you can fight Mrs Laughton is to hide behind another woman's skirts?'
'You've said that to me before.' His tone was mild. 'But may I remind you I'd have a hard job hiding behind yours. Six foot two into five foot won't go!'
'You know what I mean.'
'Your bluntness leaves me in no doubt. You're so unwilling to help me that you'd happily send me to the lions.'
'Last night you said it was the wolves,' Abby retorted. 'And that's much more Mrs Laughton's genus. She's a vixen. If you haven't the strength to fight her on your own…'
'We can't all be as strong-minded as you,' he said, and scooping her up in his arms, carried her out to the waiting car.
At the airport he carried her too, ignoring her protests by saying he didn't have the patience to walk slowly beside her, which might have been a satisfactory reason but was not the one she had wanted to hear.
What a fool I am, she thought. Did I expect him to say he was holding me because he enjoyed it?
Making sure she was comfortably seated in the plane beside his aunt, Giles took a seat across the aisle and, immediately after take-off, was engrossed in a book. Abby watched him from the corner of her eye, disconcerted when he unexpectedly turned his head and their glances met. There was an odd glow in his eyes that she could not fathom, then it was gone, masked by his lids as he lowered his head to the page.
It was a relief to return to the house in Bombay, but Abby's hopes of spending a quiet week relaxing and resting her ankle came to naught, for she and Giles were inundated with invitations from his friends, who had heard of their engagement and were anxious to meet her.
'I can't imagine why you told anyone about me,' she said crossly one evening, when they were returning from a small dinner party given by an eminent Indian scientist in their honour. 'Don't you feel guilty at accepting hospitality under false pretences?'
'I do, now you've mentioned it,' he said. 'But there's another way of looking at it; we can only fool Vicky if we behave the way a normally engaged couple would.'
'You're certainly doing that,' Abby retorted, and thought of the solicitous way he had kept his arm around her waist as he had guided her to a chair in Professor Sundra's drawing-room, and the lover-like manner in which he had occasionally clasped her hand. They would all add to the storehouse of her memories of him, and she was afraid she would soon have so many memories to cherish that she would have no time for living and building a future for herself after they had parted.
'What a deep sigh you've given,' he commented as he parked the car directly beside the front doorstep of the house. 'Is it such a strain for you to pretend you're a happily engaged young woman?'
'If you're my fiancé, it is,' she snapped.
'Poor Abby.' But there was no sympathy in his voice, only suppressed anger. 'And now, I'm afraid, I'm going to add to the strain.'
Before she could guess his intention, he swung her round in the seat and pulled her into his arms. He was a big man and, despite his thinness, whipcord-strong. She knew it was pointless to fight him and she forced herself to remain pliant, putting up no resistance to the pressure of his mouth on hers. Even when his ardour increased, she made herself unresponsive, though it cost her a great effort not to wind her arms around him and run her fingers over his thick hair and down the firm column of his neck. But she was not going to give him the satisfaction of responding. She would use every ounce of her will power never to give him that particular victory.
He lifted his mouth away from hers but still kept tight hold of her.
'Why are you pretending to be an iceberg, Abby?'
'It's not a pretence.'
'Yes, it is. You're too warmhearted not to have emotions.'
'Haven't you considered the possibility that you might not arouse them in me?'
There was a pause.
'No,' he said slowly, 'I hadn't. You're a normal young woman, and since I don't believe you find me physically repulsive, there must be another reason why you're so frigid with me.'
Petrified lest he discover what it was, she did the only thing possible and went in to the attack, seeing this as her best form of defence.
'I don't find you repulsive, Giles, but that doesn't mean I find you attractive either. You're good-looking and occasionally amusing, and I know you have a high reputation in your profession. But it takes more than that to arouse my desire. If that makes me different from the other females you've known, then I'm sorry. But I'm not a doll to be picked up and cuddled when the mood takes you. So next time you feel the urge, I suggest you have a cold bath instead!'
Silently he got out of the car and came round the side, but before he could help her she had already scrambled out and was hobbling up the steps. In her effort to escape him she was too precipitate, and would have fallen had he not reached out and caught her. Still in silence, he lifted her up and carried her into the hall.
'I won't offer to take you to your bedroom in case my baser instincts get the better of me,' he said. 'So I'll leave you to manage the best way you can while I go and take a cold shower.'
She was halfway up the first flight—Giles having long since disappeared—when the bitter humour of the situation struck her, and she smiled. She had hurt Giles' vanity tonight, but it had been better than giving away her own feelings. It might also do him good to realise he couldn't always get what he wanted. As she thought of this, she remembered Vicky. She had resisted Giles too, and married someone else.
But now Vicky no longer wanted to resist him. Indeed, it was her singular lack of resistance that had frightened him into pretending he was going to marry someone else. As always when she thought of this, Abby was puzzled by his behaviour. He was not against divorce on religious grounds, so she could only assume he was fighting Vicky because he did not want the girl to think she could just crook her little finger and have him come running. Yet sooner or later he would rim, and Abby hoped with all her heart that she would not be there to witness it.
Another week went by. The bandage was taken from her ankle, and she was fully mobile again with nothing to show for her mishap other than her continuing engagement to Giles. She had told Miss Bateman the truth about it, refusing to let that good lady believe her matchmaking hopes had succeeded.
'What a pity you and Giles are only pretending,' Miss Bateman said one afternoon towards the end of the second week, when they were sitting in the garden of the house awaiting the arrival of Mrs Chandris, in whose magnificent penthouse Abby had seen Giles re-encounter Vicky. 'Is there no hope of it becoming real?'
'No. Giles will eventually give in to Mrs Laughton. She's that sort of woman.'
'And what sort of woman are you, that you aren't willing to fight for him?'
Abby looked up quickly, but could not meet Miss Bateman's eyes and lie. Yet she was unwilling to tell the truth either, and instead she prevaricated.
'I'm doing all I can to help Giles, but in the end, the final resistance must come from him.'
'You haven't answered the question, my dear. You're in love with that nephew of mine and you should make an effort to get him.'
Abby forced a smile to her lips. 'Do you think people can be "got" so easily? Catching somebody's emotions isn't like fishing for tiddlers!'
'I'm not so sure—where me
n are concerned. They're very much like fish. Show them the right bait and they'll rise to it'
It was all too easy for Abby to imagine Vicky Laughton as a piece of delectable bait, bobbing in the water ready to be snapped at by a hapless tiddler. Or didn't tiddlers go for bait? She frowned, annoyed by her fantasising, and relieved when Mrs Chandris was shown into the garden by a servant.
The next hour passed in idle gossip, and it was only when they were sipping weak Indian tea and chewing on some delectable sweetmeats that the conversation turned to Vicky Laughton.
'I understand her husband is returning to America and leaving her here. Apparently she's going to do a meditation course.'
'I can't see her meditating for long,' Miss Bateman stated. 'She isn't the type.'
'According to her husband she has become completely absorbed by the teachings of one of our gurus. And they do have amazing personalities, you know. They gather the most unlikely people as their disciples.'
'Maybe they do. But to become somebody's disciple you have to lose your own ego, and I can't see Vicky doing that for long.'
Mrs Chrandris gave a gentle smile. 'You should not discount the possibility of change for the better. That is why the human mind is unique. The contemplation of the soul can lead to greater knowledge and understanding of oneself.'
'The only soul Vicky will ever contemplate is a grilled one on a dish!' Miss Bateman replied.
Mrs Chandris laughed and changed the conversation, but after she had left, Abby returned to it and asked a question that had been in her mind for several days.
'What's going to happen to Giles when we go home? I know you were hoping to stay on until Mrs Laughton also left, but if she's going to take a meditation course here, she might be staying for months.'
'Then so will we,' Miss Bateman answered. 'Giles is happy to have us here, and one of the joys of being a writer is that I can continue with my work anywhere. Did I tell you I once wrote a book while I was hiking in the Appalachians? I was much younger then, of course, but '
'Stop flannelling,' Abby interrupted.
'Flannelling?'
'You know what I mean. When are we going to leave India? I don't want to continue with my engagement. I've been happy to help Giles, but I—but I can't go on any longer.'
'If Vicky succeeds in trapping him,' said Miss Bateman gently, 'she will make him very unhappy.'
'I don't see why you should say that. He loves her and….'
'I don't believe he does.'
Abby wanted to believe this too, but knew it was foolish to let wishes try to disguise themselves as facts.
'He does love her, Miss Bateman. If he didn't, he wouldn't need to use me as his defence. And I'm tired of it. I want to leave India. If you want to stay on, then I'll make my own arrangements.'
'Even if it means you will no longer work for me?'
'I'm afraid so.' Abby was saddened by the knowledge, but could see no way out; much as she wished to stay with Miss Bateman, it was imperative for her own peace of mind that she stop seeing Giles.
'Very well, Abby,' sighed Miss Bateman. 'Telephone the airline and see if they can get us a flight out on Monday. You don't object to staying four days more, I hope?'
Abby shook her head and went into the house to make the arrangements before Giles returned home.
Since he had announced their engagement, he always dined with them, and even when he had papers to work on would bring them into the sitting-room rather than go into his study, which he had previously done. It was as if he wanted to carry on with the pretence of their engagement even when there was no one there to see it, and though she knew Miss Bateman interpreted it as a sign of his growing attraction for the girl who falsely wore his engagement ring, Abby saw it as a weakness; as a fear that if he were left alone he would brood upon Vicky and weaken his resolve.
When she returned to the garden, their flight booked, she looked around her with nostalgia. She had spent many, happy hours here, particularly in the last two weeks, when Giles had frequently returned home for lunch and swum with her in the pool. Splashing about with him in the water, she had been able to forget that he was in love with someone else, and because the forgetting had become too frequent of late, she had seen the dangers and known she could only avoid them by running away.
'I must do some last-minute shopping,' Miss Bateman announced. 'What about you?'
'My suitcase is already bulging. So please don't ask me to go with you or I won't be able to resist temptation.'
Abby thought of this as she showered and changed for dinner later that evening. She was certainly resisting temptation by running away from Giles. She sat down at the dressing-table and stared at herself in the mirror. Unrequited love must be good for her, for she had never looked more blooming. Almost pretty, she thought, and then smiled as she knew how angry Giles would be at her deprecation of herself.
'I'm not so bad,' she mused aloud, and tightened the strap of her bra. The soft curves of her breasts were seen through the lacy material, which matched her brief panties. She had gained a little weight and it suited her, lessening the childishness of her curves and giving them a rounder, more voluptuous quality.
There was a sharp knock on the door and before she could say 'Come in,' Giles strode through and slammed it shut behind him. Startled, she half rose to reach for her dressing-gown, but he was standing in front of her, so embarrassingly close that she knew it would be safer to remain seated.
'How dare you make arrangements to go back to England?' he asked furiously. 'Don't you know I still want you here?'
Abby's swift reply was forestalled by the pallor of his face. She had never seen Giles in such a rage. His mouth was a thin line and his eyes were yellow as a tiger's and twice as menacing. She swallowed and tried to speak as reasonably as she could.
'I can't stay here for ever. You knew we'd be going back soon.'
'Not so soon. Tell me why.'
'Isn't the question obvious? I'm tired of pretending and listening to your friends prattle a load of nonsense about our future.'
'What nonsense?' he asked.
'About marriage and babies and that sort of rubbish.'
Afraid she might start to cry, and intent on putting as much distance between them as possible, she rummaged wildly in a drawer of the dressing-table for a slip. She found a wisp of peach silk and quickly put it on. As it slithered over her body she gained a little courage from its covering, and stood up to move away from him. But he refused to budge, and short of pushing past him, she had to remain where she was.
'I'm sorry you don't like talk of marriage and babies,' he bit out. 'I thought you were the type to want both.'
'I am. But not in these circumstances.'
'What's wrong with the circumstances? Marry me, Abby, and let's stop making it a pretence.'
'No.'
'Why not? You aren't in love with anyone else.'
'That doesn't mean I want to marry you.' She tried to sidle past him but again he blocked her way. 'Giles, please. Leave the room and let me finish dressing.'
'I'd rather you remain undressed,' he said huskily, and gripped her shoulders. 'I can't let you go, Abby. I won't!'
Abandoning all pretence of retaining her temper, Abby went to push him away. Her resistance was all he needed to set fire to his own temper, and he caught her hands and pushed them roughly down to her side. She tried to kick him and managed a sharp blow on his shins before he swung her off her feet and carried her over to the bed. He dumped her down on it and before she could lever herself up he flung himself across her. Her heart leapt and then began to race. But it was not with fright; only treacherous desire.
'Let me go, Giles,' she said, marvelling how calmly she managed to sound.
'Not yet,' he said thickly. 'I want to talk to you.'
'Then talk to me sitting up.'
'You'll run away.'
She did not deny it. 'I hate you!' she cried.
'I've given you no reason. I've been an ex
emplary fiancé.'
'The phoney lover,' she mocked.
'Neither a lover, nor phoney,' he said with unexpected savagery, and claimed violent possession of her mouth.
Ignited by his touch, her body automatically arched itself against his. The flimsy silk she wore was no barrier between them, and she heard the pounding of his heart and felt the tension of his muscles as he pressed her deeper into the softness of the bed.
'I won't let you go,' he muttered, and twined his fingers around the honey-gold strands of hair that splayed out on the pillow. Cupping her face with one hand, he made it impossible for her to turn her head, and stared intently into her eyes. 'You've taunted me and haunted me ever since I set eyes on you, and now you're going to take the consequences.'
'No!' She tried to struggle from under him, but he remained a heavy weight upon her. 'Please, Giles, let me go! You'll be sorry if you don't.'
'I'll be sorry if I do. Perhaps I should have taken you weeks ago. I've tried reason and flattery, and I've even tried jealousy, but nothing seems to work. So perhaps it's time for me to use force.'
'You're mad!' she gasped, and managed to get her hands free and push them against his chest. 'Let me go!'
'Never. You're mine.' His breath was warm on her skin as his head lowered again.
This time his lips did not seek hers but came to rest on the shadow between her breasts, then moved along their curve leaving feather-light kisses all the way. The touch of them inflamed her, and though she tried to resist it, it was a losing battle. How could one fight something one wanted so much? It was as futile as Giles fighting his love for Vicky. The thought of Vicky was almost enough to bring Abby to her senses; almost, but not quite. With a soft moan she stopped fighting and gave herself up to the pleasure of his nearness, refusing to believe she would regret it when sanity returned.
Feeling her surrender, Giles loosened his grip on her, but only in order to gather her more closely to his body. But instead of kissing her again, he rested his cheek upon hers.
'I love you, Abby. How could you not have known?'
She was filled with momentary elation, then it disappeared. 'You don't need to he to me, Giles, it isn't necessary.'
Rachel Lindsay - Man of Ice Page 15