It was moving enough to have her mother give her away, but by the time Kimberley reached the altar and looked up into the serious grey eyes, then down again at Georgia’s tiny head, her black hair almost hidden by the matching frilly bonnet, Kimberley was so choked up with emotion that she was unable to speak.
That was when Harrison took her hand and squeezed it, but this only made things worse, until he took a pristine white handkerchief from his top pocket and wiped at the tear which sparkled on her cheek, bending his head to whisper to her.
‘You look very, very beautiful.’
And he said it in such a way that the words carried Kimberley through the ceremony. They came outside to a multi-coloured flurry of confetti and she heard some of the comments from some of the villagers who had come to stand at the back of the church to see the bride and groom.
‘Why was she crying?’
‘Hormones,’ came the reply. ‘She’s only just had the baby.’
‘Catch me crying, if I was marrying him!’
Some of the tension lifted now that the ceremony was over. Kimberley couldn’t help it—she giggled, and Harrison looked down at her approvingly.
‘That’s better! Feel ready to face the reception?’
Not really. She would have preferred to have crept away, with him and Georgia. But perhaps it was better that they were going to the reception, since she was feeling very soppy and very vulnerable, and in that state there was no saying what she might do if she was actually left alone with Harrison. Her husband.
So they dutifully ate the magnificent feast of prawns and salmon and strawberries, all washed down with the finest vintage champagne, which Mrs Nash Senior had provided, and served in a marquee in the grounds of Brockbank House.
But, sitting next to Harrison, the baby nestled in the crook of his arm, Kimberley felt on a strange high, and it was nothing to do with the one and a half glasses of champagne she’d drunk. Something had happened to her there in the church, when he had wiped the tear away from her face. She had thought…thought…Thought what? That some deep spark of something approaching affection had flown from his eyes as he had stared down into hers? Or was she simply imagining that the gesture had been redolent of tenderness?
But his voice remained gentle when, after the speeches, he looked down at her with a smile. ‘Want to go home now?’ he asked.
Home. Her heart was going crazy as she met that soft grey stare. She nodded, her breath catching in her throat. ‘I’d better go and get changed first.’
‘Don’t.’ There was the glitter of sexual promise in his eyes as they skimmed over the way the cream silk clung to her full breasts like a second skin. ‘I like it.’
Kimberley blushed like an eighteen-year-old. Crazy, crazy to let a silly little compliment affect her in this way. ‘Thank you,’ she said breathlessly. And then, because it seemed the safest thing to say, ‘Georgia has been a poppet, hasn’t she?’
He nodded. ‘Personally, I think she’s the best baby in the world, but—like you—I’m rather biased. Come on, let’s say our goodbyes. Then I’ll put her into the car.’
Fifteen minutes later they were speeding away, Georgia sound asleep in her baby-seat at the back. Harrison sat at the wheel of the large Bentley, Kimberley at his side.
He shot her a look. ‘There. That wasn’t too bad, was it?’
‘No.’ She stole a glance at him. ‘Thanks.’
‘For what?’
‘For rescuing me in the church.’
His teeth gleamed white as he smiled. ‘I’ve always liked rescuing maidens in distress.’
‘Not much of a maiden,’ she said wryly.
‘No.’ There was a pause. Then he said, in a kind of bitter voice, ‘But you were, weren’t you?’
Kimberley thought that she must have misheard him. ‘What?’ she whispered incredulously.
‘I was the first, wasn’t I? Your first lover?’
‘You mean you knew—all along?’
‘Not all along.’ She saw the hard mouth twist. ‘No. Let’s just say that it quickly became evident——’
‘Harrison—you don’t have to——’
‘Oh, but I do,’ he said bitterly. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’
She raised her brows. ‘Do you think it would have made any difference?’
He gave her a quick, hard look. ‘I’m not in the habit of seducing virgins,’ he said. ‘But I’d have been a damn sight more careful about contraception if I’d known.’
This hurt badly. It was as good as saying that they would not be here now if he had taken that simple precaution and hadn’t she lulled herself, during the reception, into believing otherwise? Fool. Kimberley shut her eyes briefly, before opening them again. Don’t get hurt, she willed herself. Or upset. Don’t destroy what has been the most honest talk we’ve ever had with each other.
‘But that night, even after you’d found out that I was a virgin, you still assumed that I was protected?’ she probed. ‘At least, that’s what you said at the time.’
His hands tightened on the steering-wheel. ‘I assumed that you would have told me if you weren’t. Or, at least, that if you found yourself pregnant, you would have contacted me. When you didn’t, I naturally took it for granted that we’d been——’
‘Lucky?’ she put in bitterly, before he could damn her with the word himself.
‘I just wish you’d been a little more honest with me at the time.’
‘I didn’t think it was honesty that you were searching for that evening,’ she told him candidly. ‘You’ve always tended to make a lot of assumptions about me, haven’t you, Harrison? For example, would you have really believed that I was a virgin if I’d told you?’ she asked softly, and heard his long sigh.
‘Probably not.’
She shrugged. That, too, hurt. It made her feel like some rapacious little tramp. ‘Well, then, there’s nothing more to be said, is there?’
‘I rather think that there is,’ he said quietly. ‘I owe you an apology, for one thing.’
She forced a little laugh—it was the kind of brittle laugh she had heard other women use and she found it surprisingly easy to master. ‘Forget it. Perhaps I should be flattered that you considered me so sexually experienced that it didn’t occur to you that I might be otherwise.’
‘As I think I told you once before—you seem to bring out the worst in me.’
‘Oh, well, that’s the way of the world,’ she answered lightly. ‘And, as I once told you—the feeling’s entirely mutual.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said simply.
She heard the self-recrimination in his voice, but she was honest enough to know that there had been no coercion on his part and she could not let him carry all the blame.
‘Don’t be. I love Georgia to bits.’
‘And so do I.’ His voice was very soft. ‘And thank you, Kimberley.’
She paused in the act of removing her hat. ‘What for?’
‘For having her.’
She frowned. ‘Meaning?’
‘That there was always an alternative—which most people would perhaps have considered the more sensible option, given the circumstances.’
‘Then it’s a good thing I’m not most people,’ she answered, but it was an effort to keep her voice steady, because that one very important compliment had gone a long way towards banishing some of the anger she felt towards him.
She saw him glance over at her again. ‘What did you do with the cheque I gave you?’ he asked suddenly.
Kimberley was astounded by his question, and apprehensive about his reasons for asking it. ‘I cashed it,’ she said.
‘Yes, I know that—but what did you do with the money?’
‘Why?’
He shrugged. ‘Curiosity.’
‘I spent it on expensive holidays and clothes,’ she lied wildly.
‘The truth!’ he bit out tersely.
And now Kimberley was curious, too. ‘And how do you know it isn’t the t
ruth?’
‘Let’s just call it a gut feeling.’
Kimberley sighed. ‘I gave it away—to charity.’
‘All of it?’
‘Every penny!’
He nodded his head very slowly, as if he’d just worked out the answer to some ongoing and irksome problem. ‘I should have guessed.’
‘And why should you have?’ whispered Kimberley, feeling that she, too, was on the brink of some tremendous discovery.
He shrugged. ‘You have a particularly stubborn kind of pride, Kimberley—one which does not go hand in hand with accepting bribes.’ Then he frowned. ‘But why did you take it in the first place?’
To get him off her back, of course. But if she told him that he might draw his own conclusions as to why. Her mind cast around for a convincing alternative. ‘Because I was angry with you—insulted that you thought you could buy me off. I thought I’d make you suffer—financially, at least. So I took your money from you and gave it away.’
Those intelligent grey eyes were too damned perceptive, she thought as she pretended to fiddle with the catch of her cream clutch-bag.
‘But if you were simply angry with me then the most effective thing you could have done would have been to go ahead and marry Duncan.’
‘But I couldn’t marry Duncan. Not once I discovered that I was so…’ She chose her next words carefully. ‘Sexually attracted to you.’
He said nothing in reply, but she saw him give another small nod as he drove on, quite fast but very carefully. There was a more companionable silence between them as the powerful car ate up the miles, and she was aware that a truce, of sorts, had been unspokenly declared.
Kimberley felt an excitement growing within her. Didn’t that conversation symbolise some kind of hope? His honestly spoken apology had warmed her—and his recognition that going ahead and having the baby on her own had not been the easiest option. And he had, it seemed, credited her with the integrity of not accepting his cheque simply for financial gain.
On such a basis was there not room for respect and liking to grow? And these, hand in hand with the dynamite of their sexual chemistry, wouldn’t these be enough to become the foundations of a satisfactory marriage—if not the love-locked union her heart yearned for?
Should she allow their wedding-day to draw to its natural conclusion? Should she allow him to make love to her tonight? Kimberley gave a little shiver of excitement. Could she honestly say no to him?
It was almost seven when they arrived back in Kew, but as they drew up outside the large, imposing house all her old insecurities about him came flooding back. Kimberley felt a sudden sense of shyness as Harrison switched the engine off, wondering where they went from here, afraid to look him in the eye in case she discovered that the qualities she had attributed to him in the car had all turned out to be figments of her imagination. She was therefore ridiculously pleased when Georgia gave a little squawk of protest.
‘She must be hungry,’ she said hastily, and leapt out of the car to open up the back door. ‘I’d better feed her.’
He followed her, and when she turned and saw the grim set of his face her heart sank, but she felt a certain sense of relief too. She thanked her lucky stars that she hadn’t allowed a false sense of security to lull her into doing something foolish, like letting him know how she felt about him. And, if she was being brutally honest, if she allowed their relationship to become properly intimate would she really be able to stop herself from telling him?
She remembered how she’d been that night of the party—she’d had to force herself not to smother him with soft and soppy words—and that had been just one night. Imagine every night. In his arms. The act of love. She’d be bound to slip up and tell him she loved him, and where would that lead her? A declared one-sided relationship would surely be doomed? She knew what happened to unrequited love; everyone did. The ones who loved lost all their self-respect, and the objects of their love eventually despised them for their devotion.
Waiting for them in the hall, her hands primly clasped in front of her waist, stood Sarah—her blonde hair gleaming, her brown and white uniform crisply pressed as she held her arms out for Georgia.
‘Congratulations,’ she said in her rather colourless voice, her eyes, as always, fixed steadily on Harrison.
‘Thank you, Sarah,’ he said, his deep voice warming in a smile, and Kimberley felt an acute stab of jealousy as Sarah gazed back at him.
‘Mrs Caithness has laid out a cold dinner for two in the small dining-room, as you ordered, sir.’
Which was what a real honeymoon couple might have done, thought Kimberley—eaten a meal together and gone upstairs to make love.
But the difference was that this was all farce. And if she hadn’t been so certain that she couldn’t playact indifference towards him—especially not tonight, after the heightened emotion of the marriage ceremony—then maybe she might have gone through with it.
But, being forced to hide her feelings from him, she would simply have felt like a lamb being fattened up for the sacrifice.
She found herself staring into a pair of quizzical grey eyes. ‘Well, Kimberley?’
A simple enough question, but she knew that it had many shades of meaning. He was asking her yes or no, and her answer had nothing to do with the meal he’d had prepared.
‘I’m not hungry,’ she answered coolly. ‘And I must see to the baby.’ And, so saying, she took Georgia from Sarah’s arms and mounted the stairs towards the nursery, unable to miss the hostile fire which flamed in the depths of those smoky grey eyes or, indeed, the smug little smirk of triumph which Sarah flashed in Harrison’s direction.
‘But what shall I do with all the food?’ she heard Sarah asking plaintively.
‘Do what you want with it.’ She heard his indifferent reply. ‘I’m going out!’
And the last thing she heard was the front door closing behind him.
CHAPTER TEN
KIMBERLEY had realised the mistake she had made within hours.
The day following the wedding she stumbled blearily down to breakfast, Georgia having woken several times during the night, but even if she hadn’t done it wouldn’t have made any difference, since Kimberley hadn’t been able to sleep. She’d spent a miserable night in her old room, lying awake and listening for the sound of Harrison returning home. But he hadn’t returned home.
Just after midnight she had crept downstairs, thinking that perhaps he might have come in and fallen asleep in the drawing-room, but there had been no sign of him. Even though she’d eaten nothing since the reception she had felt too sick at heart for food, but she had been very thirsty, and something had made her look into the dining-room to see whether Sarah had removed the food. She had.
Kimberley had felt tears prickle the back of her eyes as she’d seen the beautiful spray of white roses, stephanotis and freesia in the centre of the tableit looked so very bridal. Had Harrison chosen that? she wondered. Kimberley had sighed, thinking what a mess everything was.
She had just been turning to go when she’d seen a slim silver-wrapped package lying at one of the two places, and, her curiosity alerted, she had moved closer and seen that the small card attached to it bore her name.
She had hesitated for only a moment, then, with trembling fingers, she had torn the paper off. Inside had been a navy leather box stamped with the name of one of London’s most exclusive jewellers. She had flipped the top off, and there—dazzlingly bright against the black velvet of the interior—had been a necklace of diamonds and aquamarines—starry and spectacular and utterly beautiful.
Kimberley had closed the box and held it over her heart. Why had he bought her such a gift? So costly and so exquisite. As a peace-offering? She’d closed her eyes, knowing that she had spoiled it all, and, after fetching herself a glass of milk from the kitchen, had crept miserably back upstairs to her room, the box still clutched in her hand, to lie awake, still listening for him.
And, apart from Georgia waking f
or her feeds, the night had been one of long silence.
This morning Harrison was sitting at the table in the dining-room, drinking coffee and eating eggs and reading the financial pages of the newspaper. He barely looked up when she entered the room.
‘Good morning,’ said Kimberley.
He barely glanced at her. The grey eyes were cold as a winter’s sea. ‘Is it?’ he mocked.
Kimberley tried very hard to behave normally. She fetched herself some scrambled eggs from the silver tureen on the side, added a few mushrooms and a slice of toast, sat down and poured herself some coffee. Then she smiled at him, but met no answering response. His features might have been hewn from granite, they were so uncaring and so unresponsive.
She drew a deep breath. ‘I—saw the necklace you left for me. It’s very beautiful,’ she said.
‘Forget it,’ he said dismissively.
‘No, really——’
‘If you’d prefer some other stones, then you can always exchange it,’ he said. ‘Or sell it,’ he added insultingly.
Kimberley almost gasped aloud at the venom in his voice. He’d been cold with her in the past but never this cold. She had turned down his intimate supper last night, and his gift. Had he, then, she wondered with a sickening lurch of her heart, gone out to find solace in the arms of someone else? Clamping down the murderous jealousy which flooded hotly through her veins, she clenched her trembling hands on her lap beneath the heavy damask of the white tablecloth, where he could not see them. She had to know. She had to know.
She narrowed her blue eyes at him. ‘You didn’t come in last night,’ she said, in a voice which was remarkable for its steadiness.
‘That’s right,’ he drawled.
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