'I don't really—'
'Drink it!'
It was a command, and she obeyed reluctantly, but her hand shook so much when she took the glass from him that she almost spilt some of the liquid on to her dress before she managed to get the glass to her lips. It was brandy, she realised, wrinkling her nose, but she obediently took a sip. It scalded her throat, but Jason placed his hand beneath the glass and forced her to drink more until she coughed and spluttered with tears streaming from her eyes.
'I've had enough,' she choked out the words, accepting his handkerchief to dab at her eyes.
He took the glass from her and placed it on the small table, then he sat down on his haunches in front of her, forcing her to look at him.
'I'm sorry, Melanie.'
'Why should you be sorry?' she demanded coldly. 'You can sell Greystone Manor now, and take what's owing to you. It's what you've been waiting for, isn't it? The opportunity to end our marriage so that you can return to Delia?'
Jason's expression became shuttered as he drew her to her feet. 'I'm taking you home. You need to get some rest.'
'I can drive myself.'
'I'm taking you, and your car will be sent over later,' he insisted, marching her from the office, past his secretary's desk and into the lift.
When they reached the basement of the building Melanie was almost thankful for his hand supporting her as she fought against the dizziness, and she was vaguely aware of him helping her into the Jaguar with unexpected gentleness. She shrank as far away from him as possible when he climbed in beside her, and they completed the journey home in silence.
'Take off your clothes and get into bed,' he ordered when they arrived at the penthouse, and Melanie was instantly rebellious.
'I'm not tired,' she snapped, but her breath caught in her throat when she found herself lifted high into his arms and carried into the bedroom as if she were a child. 'Let me go!' she cried when he set her down on her feet and tugged at the zip of her dress. 'What do you think you're doing?'
'I'm undressing you,' he stated quite calmly without desisting from what he was doing.
'No! Let me go!' she gasped, struggling against him, but tiredness overwhelmed her and he had no difficulty in stripping her down to her skin. 'I hate you! I hate you!'
'Yes, I know,' he announced in that infuriatingly matter-of-fact way of his as he picked up her frothy pink nightdress and helped her into it. 'I know you hate me,' he said again, 'but at the moment you're overwrought and tired.'
'You have no right to treat me like this! I'm not a child. I—'
She choked on a sob, and then her control snapped. Horrified at herself, but unable to do anything about it, she wept unrestrainedly while Jason lifted her on to the bed and pulled the covers over her. It was humiliating and degrading to cry in front of him like this, but it was some time before she was able to prevent the hot, scalding tears from paving their way down her cheeks.
Jason left her alone for a few minutes, giving her the opportunity to regain her composure, but when he returned she was unable to look at him.
'Feeling any better?' he asked, and the bed sagged beneath his weight when he sat down beside her.
'Yes, thank you.'
'Drink this,' he instructed quietly, offering her a glass of water and a small capsule which lay in the palm of his hand.
'What is it?'
'A mild sedative.'
'I don't want—'
'For God's sake, Melanie, allow me to know what's best for you at this moment!' The harshness in his voice almost succeeded in triggering off her tears once more, but she checked them forcibly. 'Drink it!' he ordered, ruthlessly determined to have his way.
Too tired to argue, she did as she was told and swallowed down the capsule.
'Now, close your eyes and go to sleep,' he ordered a little more gently, removing his jacket and tie, and lighting a cigarette.
She stared at him in surprise. 'What are you doing?'
'I'm going to sit here until I'm sure you're doing as you're told,' he said calmly, drawing deeply on his cigarette and blowing the smoke towards the ceiling.
Although part of her rejoiced at his presence, there was another part of her which strongly rejected the idea.
'If you hurry you could still be in time to have lunch with Delia,' she whispered, her eyelids drooping with fatigue.
Jason muttered something unintelligible and then said more clearly, 'Go to sleep! Forget about Delia!'
Forget about Delia! She could never forget about Delia, she thought as she drifted on the verge of oblivion, but her hand searched unashamedly for his, and as she felt the comforting pressing of his strong fingers about her own, she sighed and went to sleep.
Jason took over the arrangements for Granny Bridget's funeral with his usual flair for organisation and efficiency for detail, but Melanie was secretly grateful to him for doing so. Sister Wilson left Greystone Manor immediately after the funeral, but everything else remained as it was with the servants still in attendance.
Jason's plans for the future still remained a mystery to Melanie. She never questioned him, and he never mentioned the subject but it was there between them like an impenetrable barrier keeping them apart, and increasing the tension and strain in the already faltering relationship. The knowledge of her pregnancy was a carefully guarded secret which she longed at times to share with him, but she dared not, and the effort of keeping silent began to gnaw away at her nerves.
They were invited one evening to the home of the McAlisters to celebrate their daughter's coming of age. They could not decline the invitation despite Melanie's strange reluctance to attend and, shortly after their arrival at the McAlisters' exquisitely beautiful home, she realised the reason for her initial reluctance. Delia Cummings was there, draped elegantly in a glittering crimson gown, and Melanie knew with painful certainty that she could never hope to compete with someone so beautiful.
They acknowledged each other's presence with a cool nod, but with thirty-odd guests crowding the living-room and spilling out on to the terrace, no one noticed anything amiss. Melanie tried not to act the jealous wife by keeping an eye on Jason but, to her disgust, she found herself searching for his tall figure among the guests every few minutes.
The McAlisters' daughter, Susan, drew Melanie's attention. She looked so vitally alive that Melanie envied her secretly and, as their eyes met across the room, the slender, titian-haired girl excused herself from her friends and came to Melanie's side.
'I'm not very good at remembering names, but you're Melanie Kerr, aren't you?' she questioned in a friendly manner.
'Yes, I am.'
'I've heard so much about you from Mummy and Daddy. Especially Daddy,' she added with a smile. 'You made quite an impression on him.'
'I can't think why,' Melanie murmured selfconsciously.
'It's your freshness, your honesty and sincerity that he admired most, and now that I've met you, I can almost agree with him. You have that look about you that makes me realise why a man like Jason Kerr fell for you.'
'Oh.'
'Now I've embarrassed you,' Susan McAlister laughed. 'You must forgive me, Melanie, but we McAlisters are inclined to speak our minds.'
Melanie could not prevent the smile that lifted the corners of her mouth. 'So I've noticed.'
'Your marriage really caused quite a stir among the people who knew Jason. The eligible women, especially, were quite put out, and I don't mind admitting that I was one of them,' Susan informed her without rancour as she directed her gaze across the room to where Jason stood talking to some of the men. 'He's really quite a handsome devil, isn't he?'
'I think so, yes,' Melanie replied truthfully, and without embarrassment.
'Oh, well, I'm a good loser, fortunately. Not like Delia,' Susan remarked, glancing curiously at Melanie. 'Did you know there's a possibility that she might accept an offer made to her by a Paris fashion house?'
Melanie's heart lifted expectantly, but she kept her voice c
asual as she said: 'No, I had no idea.'
'It will be the best thing for all concerned if she does accept the offer,' Susan said knowingly, glancing at Melanie's empty glass. 'Can I get you some more champagne?'
'No, thank you.'
Someone caught Susan's attention and she touched Melanie's arm lightly. 'You must excuse me, but I do hope I'm going to see a lot of you in future. I like you.'
Melanie stared after her thoughtfully. Susan McAlister was really quite incredible, but she could not help liking her frankness. She had certainly given Melanie something to think about, and she only hoped that Susan's information was correct. With Delia out of the way there might be a possibility that…!
She stopped her thoughts right there when she glimpsed Jason and Delia slipping out on to the terrace and disappearing into the shadows. So much for her hopes, she thought dismally. If Jason gave any indication that he wanted Delia to remain in South Africa, she would do so, Melanie realised, and there was no reason to believe that he would not ask Delia to remain.
The hopelessness of it all dogged Melanie's footsteps all evening, and when they arrived back at the penthouse she had made up her mind, irretrievably, about her future. To continue living in this uncertainty was driving her mad, and the sooner she put an end to it, the better.
Jason emerged from the shower with a towel wrapped characteristically about his lean hips and, for the first time since her grandmother's death, he entered her room. Shutting her mind and heart to his fatal attraction, she continued to brush her hair with quick firm strokes, but the thudding of her heart threatened to choke her. He stood behind her for a moment, but, when she refused to meet his eyes in the mirror, his hands touched her shoulders in a caressing gesture, and her treacherous body quivered in response.
'Melanie…'
'Take your hands off me,' she said coldly, lowering the brush and clutching it in her lap as if it were a lifeline.
'Why this unexpectedly chilly welcome?' he demanded mockingly as he drew her to her feet and removed the brush from her hand.
'I want my freedom, Jason.'
His eyes narrowed slightly, but his expression remained unaltered. 'What's the hurry?'
'I believe I'm just as entitled as you are to ask for my freedom when I want it.'
'No, my dear Melanie,' he shook his head slowly, his eyes lingering with undisguised pleasure on the clearly noticeable curves of her body. 'You'll get your freedom when I say so.'
His arms were locked about her before she could think of moving away and, as she felt the heat of his body through the thinness of her night attire, a familiar weakness took possession of her. Despising herself for feeling the way she did, she threw her head back and glared up at him.
'You can't force me to stay with you.'
'It's part of our agreement, remember?' he mocked her. 'You will continue to be my wife until I no longer wish it.'
'What kind of man are you?' she demanded breathlessly, struggling against him as he lifted her with effortless ease and carried her towards the bed. 'Can't you see that I don't want to stay with you any longer?'
His mouth twisted cynically. 'Don't you?'
'Let me go at once!'
He obeyed her unexpectedly, and she screamed involuntarily as she landed in a heap on the bed. She rolled away from him in an effort to escape, but he was beside her in an instant, pinning her down on to the bed with his leg across her thighs. Her wrists were gripped ruthlessly and, with her arms raised above her head, she was rendered utterly helpless. Devilish amusement lurked in his eyes as he observed the swift rise and fall, of her breasts. She passed the tip of her tongue nervously across her dry lips and, noticing this, Jason lowered his head and captured the full moistness of her mouth with his own.
Her inability to curb her response made her want to weep. She was caught defencelessly in the web of her love for him, and she trembled against him as the passion of his kiss found a rising echo in her. Sensing this, he released her wrists and caressed her with the deliberate intent to arouse her. Clinging desperately to her sanity, Melanie tried to push him away, but her efforts were futile.
'You still want me just as much as I want you, and if you deny it, then you're a rotten little liar,' he said, his breath warm against her lips.
'Jason, please…'
'Don't fight me, Melanie. You know you'll only get hurt,' he warned, his eyes darkening with desire as he buried his face in the enticing, scented hollow between her breasts.
Melanie could no longer control her clamouring emotions and, as her resistance crumbled, she laced her fingers through his crisp dark hair and cradled his head against her.
Melanie never discussed her desired freedom with Jason again, and neither did he mention it, but, as the days passed, an unnatural calm seeped into their relationship. It frightened Melanie, almost as if it were a premonition of something yet to happen. Every day she expected Jason to return home with the news that he had sold Greystone Manor, and for this reason she spent every available moment in her old home, sorting through personal items, and making a list of the things she wanted to keep. It was a painful task she had set herself, but it was something with which to fill the days when her thoughts drove her to despair.
She had sensed a change in Jason since that night she had demanded her freedom, and she had caught him several times observing her with watchful, brooding eyes. It unnerved her considerably, but she could find no reasonable explanation for his strange behaviour. It was possible that Delia's plans to leave the country might have something to do with it, but she preferred not to think so, although she could find no other palpable reason for his reticence.
While out shopping one afternoon she stopped at an enchanting little coffee bar for a break, and from her window seat she watched the passing traffic listlessly as she sipped the strong aromatic coffee she had ordered.
A swish of silk beside her table made her look up sharply to find Delia standing there, looking as though she had stepped out of a leading fashion magazine that very minute. Melanie's fine woollen suit was tastefully elegant, and quite without fault, but Delia always succeeded in adding a subtle touch of glamour to everything she chose to wear, and Melanie could not help but envy her.
'Darling, how delightful running into you like this,' that slightly husky but well-modulated voice exclaimed. 'Do you come here often?'
'No, this is the first time,' Melanie replied stiffly, instantly on her guard against this woman.
'What's the matter, darling?' Delia smiled sweetly, but there was a hint of venom in her dark eyes. 'Is your marriage not working out as well as you'd hoped?'
Melanie clenched her hands in her lap under the table. 'My marriage is working out perfectly, thank you.'
'You can't fool me,' my dear,' Delia laughed unkindly. 'The signs are there for everyone to see.'
'Signs?' Melanie questioned innocently.
'Strain, darling,' Delia enlightened her. 'It's written quite plainly all over your face.'
'Really?'
'You can't say I didn't warn you,' Delia reminded her carelessly. 'Jason just isn't the kind of man to be satisfied with one woman only, but fortunately I understand these little whims of his. Quite frankly, I give your marriage less than a month before he walks out on you. He's already showing signs of restlessness.' She smiled disdainfully and stepped away from the table. 'I must rush. Goodbye, darling.'
Melanie stared after her speechlessly as she left the coffee bar. There was no way in which she could have disputed Delia's statement even if she had had the opportunity to do so, and the fact that she was Jason's wife in no way gave her the confidence she desired.
A chauffeur-driven car drew up at the curb, and Melanie's heart almost stopped beating when she saw Delia step off the pavement and get into it. The man already seated in the back was obscured from Melanie's vision, but, as the car moved away, she caught a glimpse of a dark head close to Delia's.
Jason! she thought instantly, but she discarded the idea
almost at once, admonishing herself severely for allowing her imagination to run away with her.
Collecting her parcels, she made her way back to the penthouse, but in the silence of those exquisitely furnished rooms she found her suspicions returning with agonising insistence. It could have been Jason, she told herself, but there was no way of knowing for sure unless… I Melanie pulled herself up sharply. What would it look like if she telephoned the office to check up on her husband? She could, of course, make up some excuse for telephoning if she found him in, she decided as she entered the study and stared uncertainly at the instrument on Jason's desk.
Biting her lip nervously, she lifted the receiver and stood with it in her hand while indecision churned through her. Then she made up her mind and dialled Jason's number.
'Mr Kerr's office, good afternoon?'
Melanie's heart lurched uncomfortably. 'Mrs Howard… is my husband in?'
'I'm afraid not, Mrs Kerr. He went out to lunch and hasn't returned yet.'
'Oh.' Melanie swallowed heavily, clutching the receiver so tightly that her knuckles showed white.
'Shall I ask him to telephone you when he comes in?' Mrs Howard wanted to know in her warm, friendly voice, unaware that she had plunged Melanie into the depths of despair.
'No—no, that won't be necessary, thank you,' Melanie managed somehow. 'It—wasn't very important.'
She replaced the receiver and closed her eyes as she leaned against the desk for a moment. It was possible, then, that the man with Delia could have been Jason! She groaned and sank into the chair behind her, jealousy and suspicion tearing her apart.
'It could have been Jason,' she whispered her thoughts aloud, 'and there's every likelihood that it had been him, but—Oh God, don't let it be so!'
She jumped to her feet and paced about restlessly. She tried not to think, but her thoughts raced about uncontrollably, conjuring up visions of them together somewhere, of Jason making love to Delia. It was like the thrust of a sword to an open wound, and Melanie wrapped her arms about herself as if to ward off the pain.
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