Bundle of Brides

by Kay Thorpe

  The anger sweeping through her allowed no consideration. Enough was enough!

  A call to the airport secured her a seat on a flight to La Guardia at nine-fifteen that evening, arriving five-twenty in the morning. She left the house again with just the handbag she’d carried all day, intent on only one thing—confrontation. What happened after that, she neither knew nor cared at present.

  Despite the heavy traffic, she was left with almost an hour to wait at the airport until boarding time. She hadn’t stopped to change from the lime-green suit she’d attended the luncheon in, standing out by virtue of it amidst the generally more casually clad throng. Catching a glimpse of herself in a mirrored stand, Gina wondered how she could look so outwardly cool and composed when she was such a mess inside.

  The flight was long, but uneventful. Cocooned in the reclined first-class seat, she even managed to sleep a little. She spent twenty minutes tidying herself up in the bathroom before they started the descent, shunning all thoughts of retreat. Ross might have no feeling for her other than the physical attraction, but he owed her better than this. If she hadn’t agreed to the marriage, he could all too easily have lost the power he set so much store by.

  They landed ten minutes early to an overcast day in keeping with her mood. It was still barely six when she emerged into the arrivals hall. A newsstand provided a previous day’s copy of the newspaper named on the fax. There had been no trickery: the item was there right enough. Not a column Ross was likely to have perused himself, so he’d be unprepared.

  All to the good, she thought. There was every chance of finding the two of them together. What she would do if she did, she had no clear idea as yet.

  The hotel reception had several early check-outs already lined up when she arrived after a cab journey that had seemed to take for ever. Unwilling to wait, she told a hovering under-manager who she was.

  From the expression that swiftly crossed the man’s face, she suspected that if he hadn’t actually seen yesterday’s news item, he knew about it. As probably did the whole of the staff. She kept her head high. Speculation could run riot for all she cared.

  In possession of a keycard to the suite, she ascended to the tenth floor. She’d altered her watch to New York time on the plane. It was exactly seven twenty-five when she let herself into the suite.

  The door she took to be to the bedroom stood open, but there was no sound of movement from within. Little light either. She went through without hesitation, striding straight to the window to fling open the heavy drapes.

  Jerked awake, Ross rolled over and sat up, shielding his eyes against the flood of light. Looking at him, Gina felt the turmoil of the last hours drain suddenly from her as reason returned. She’d come all this way to face him with a snippet of gossip that named no names, and may even have been a plant by her beloved sister-in-law, for all she knew. Why hadn’t she considered that before letting emotion overcome her?

  Ross gazed at her blankly for a moment, coming wide awake as realisation dawned. ‘What happened?’ he asked urgently.

  Throat dry as a bone, she looked for some way out of the situation that didn’t involve the truth.

  ‘Nothing happened,’ she said. ‘I have a couple of days free, so I thought I’d come and join you. Maybe do some shopping.’

  ‘Via the red-eye!’

  ‘It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.’ She attempted a laugh. ‘Crazy, I know!’

  ‘Crazy isn’t the word!’ Ross turned his head to look at the bedside clock. ‘I ordered a seven o’clock call.’

  ‘Looks like somebody slipped up.’ Gina fought to maintain an insouciant note. ‘Heads will roll!’

  ‘It’s very possible,’ he said. ‘Who brought you up?’

  ‘No one. I got the key from Reception.’

  ‘Just for the asking?’

  ‘They knew who I was.’

  He threw back the sheet and got to his feet, naked as he usually was in bed. ‘I need a cold shower. You’d better call Room Service and order breakfast for us both.’

  ‘I already ate on the plane,’ she said.

  ‘Then order some for me.’

  Gina tried to bring some order to a mind going off at tangents as the door closed behind him. The fact that Dione wasn’t with him here in the bed was no actual proof that the item was a plant. On the other hand, he certainly hadn’t looked like a man caught out. Thrown off balance for a minute or two, yes.

  Shelving the problem for the moment, she went back to the living room, taking off her jacket and slinging it over a chair before picking up the phone to call Room Service. She ordered the full English for Ross, and toast for herself, having lied about eating breakfast on the plane. She could sense the unspoken question from below. Word of her arrival obviously hadn’t filtered through to the kitchens yet, though it soon would. Hotel grapevines were second to none, Ross had said once. It seemed a long, long time ago now.

  He was wearing suit trousers and a crisp white shirt when he emerged from the bedroom, the pale-grey silk tie slung beneath the collar not yet knotted. Gina had made coffee using the facilities provided. She poured him a cup without bothering to ask, meeting his eyes with a faint shrug, still not certain how to play things.

  ‘You don’t need to say it. I shouldn’t be here. It was a mad impulse.’

  The smile was brief. ‘I could think of worse ones. You look remarkably good for someone who travelled all night.’

  ‘An advantage women have in being able to cover the ravages with make-up,’ she said. ‘Anyway, travelling first class isn’t that much of a strain. I ordered full English for you. You can always leave what you don’t want.’

  ‘You’ve changed your tune,’ Ross observed ironically. ‘Waste not, want not—wasn’t that what you told me the night you arrived?’

  ‘You have too good a memory,’ she returned. ‘Anyway, I was just fighting my corner.’

  A knock on the outer door heralded the arrival of Room Service. Gina sat in silence while the trolley was wheeled in and unloaded onto the table in the dining area, meeting the waiter’s frankly curious glance with a nod and a smile.

  ‘I suppose he must wonder what I’m doing here,’ she murmured after he departed.

  ‘I’m still not all that sure myself,’ Ross admitted. ‘But as you are, better make the most of it. I’m due at a union meeting at nine, so you’ll be doing it on your own. It’s likely to be a long process.’

  The confirmation that there really was a union problem made an arranged assignation even less likely, she conceded wryly. He mustn’t know what had really brought her haring out here. Jealousy was too revealing an emotion.

  She took a seat at the table, buttering herself a piece of toast while Ross helped himself to one or two items from the covered hot dishes. He had such wonderful hands, she thought yearningly, watching their movements.

  ‘I don’t see any bag,’ he remarked, glancing round the room.

  ‘I didn’t bring one.’ She forced a laugh as his gaze returned to her. ‘As I said, a sudden mad impulse! I can buy everything I need.’

  Ross shook his head, as if abandoning all attempts at rationalisation. ‘Does my mother know about this?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted. Neither did the Petersons, she could have added. They would in all probability take it that she’d spent the night at the apartment with her mother-in-law. If she didn’t go straight back today, they would need to be given some explanation for her disappearance. After spending most of the day with her, Elinor herself was going to be taken aback, to say the least, by her sudden decision.

  ‘I think you’d better give her a call before she calls out the feds to report a kidnapping,’ he said. He studied her, looked on the verge of saying something else, then apparently changed his mind, pushing back his chair to get to his feet. ‘We’ll talk later.’

  ‘About what?’ Gina heard herself ask.

  ‘This whole situation.’ He sounded suddenly weary.

  He’d left his briefcase o
n the chair where she’d deposited her handbag on first entering the suite. She watched him as he went to get it, numbly aware that she’d precipitated what could be the beginning of the end. He’d had enough, that was obvious. So had she, if it came to that. The sooner they parted, the sooner she got her life together again.

  Her handbag toppled off the chair as he took up the briefcase, falling upside down and spilling its contents on the carpet. Ross went down on a knee to gather them up. Fatalistically, Gina saw him straighten the crumpled fax page she had shoved in the bag last night; saw him come to an abrupt halt as the marked item caught his eye. She steeled herself to face him as he straightened.

  ‘Where did this come from?’ he demanded.

  ‘It was sent to the house some time yesterday,’ she said tonelessly. ‘I’m not sure by whom.’

  ‘I’ve a very good idea,’ he said, ‘but that can wait. You took it as proof that I’d arranged to meet Dione here?’

  Gina made a resigned gesture. ‘Yes.’

  ‘How long have you suspected I was still seeing her?’

  She looked at him uncertainly, struck by something in both tone and expression that didn’t jell with what she was expecting. ‘I suppose, all the time.’

  ‘It didn’t occur to you to ask me outright?’

  ‘We were each to live our own lives,’ she reminded him. ‘You’d have told me it was none of my business.’

  ‘Maybe in the beginning. I thought we were past that stage.’

  ‘Are you saying you haven’t been seeing her?’ she asked after a lengthy moment.

  ‘Yes. Not since the wedding, at any rate.’

  Gina felt a cautious unfurling begin deep inside. ‘Why?’ she whispered.

  His lips slanted. ‘I’d have thought the answer to that obvious. I lost interest in her when I fell in love with my wife.’ He shook his head as she made to speak. ‘It’s all right. I know you don’t feel the same way.’

  Gina hardly knew whether to laugh or cry. ‘I fell in love with you long before that,’ she said. ‘I’ve been eaten up with jealousy over Dione.’ Her voice was husky. ‘It’s no confidence booster competing with a woman voted the most beautiful in the world.’

  ‘Dione’s the product of an industry,’ Ross said softly. ‘When it comes to natural beauty, there’s no comparison.’

  Gina went into the arms held out to her, meeting his lips with relief singing through her veins. No more heartache, no more dreading the day they eventually parted. The marriage was real at last.

  ‘You’re going to be dreadfully late for your meeting,’ she murmured a long time later.

  Ross put his lips to her temple where the hair clung damply. ‘It can wait. They can all wait! I’ve far more important matters to attend to right now.’

  He looked down at her as she lay beneath him, searching her face feature by feature as though to commit it to memory. ‘It never occurred to me that someone with your looks could feel threatened by other women.’

  ‘So little you men know,’ she said.

  ‘So it appears.’ He was silent a moment just watching her, the look in his eyes a joy to see. ‘Whoever sent that fax did us both a favour unbeknowingly. It smacks of Dione’s touch, though I wouldn’t be surprised if my sister had a hand in it too. They’ve a lot in common. The reason they get on together.’

  ‘She certainly hates me,’ Gina acknowledged wryly.

  ‘You inherited what she thinks should have been hers. She’s borne a grudge against me since the day I told her she was responsible for Gary’s death.’

  ‘You wouldn’t turn your back on her completely though?’

  ‘I wouldn’t see her in trouble, no. But she’ll be in it up to her treacherous little neck if she tries any more tricks. She hasn’t, has she?’ he added, catching the flicker in her eyes.

  Gina shook her head, seeing nothing to be gained from telling him about the afternoon Roxanne had caught her by the pool. ‘I can deal with anything now,’ she said. ‘Anything at all!’

  He laughed. ‘I know the feeling! There were times these past few weeks when I’ve despaired of it ever coming to this. Especially when you looked so shattered at the thought of a year before we could think about divorce. It wasn’t true, anyway. I’ve no actual idea how long it has to be. I just wanted the breathing space.’

  He put his lips to hers again, the tenderness more telling than any passion. ‘We are going to have a long and happy marriage, Mrs Harlow! No more mistrust. I’ve never loved a woman before. Not in any real sense. Believe me.’

  ‘I do,’ she said huskily. ‘I feel the same way about you. Dione shot her bolt, and she lost. So did Roxanne. Can we put it all behind us?’

  ‘We already did,’ he said.

  The Disobedient Bride

  by Helen Bianchin

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER ONE

  LIANNE jabbed the call-button with unnecessary force, and bit down a husky oath as her fingernail split.

  The day had barely begun and already it was shaping up to surpass Friday the thirteenth at its worst.

  In the space of two hours she’d dealt with a flat tyre, had the ATM chew up her Access card, and misjudged a balancing act with her car keys and her cell-phone in which the cellphone had lost, damaged beyond repair.

  The lift whispered to a halt, the doors slid open and she stepped inside, silently willing the electronic cubicle a swift clear passage to the uppermost floor, housing the imposing legal offices of Sloane, Everton, Shell and Associates.

  Make my day, she silently challenged and barely contained her frustration as the lift’s ascent was punctuated by numerous stops…ten in all, a fact she knew because she counted each and every one of them.

  The lift drew to a halt, the doors slid open and Lianne walked into the office lobby of one of the city’s most prestigious legal firms.

  There was late, and there was late, Lianne perceived as she crossed to Reception. A few minutes, even five over time was acceptable…thirty, however, was stretching things a bit far.

  Two attractive young women manned Reception, alternating between the central phone console and tending the day’s scheduled client appointments. Both were tall, one blonde, the other dark-haired, each resembling sleek models moonlighting as office assistants, and creating a complementary balance.

  A deliberate choice, Lianne surmised, aware of Michael Sloane’s predilection for image.

  An explanation was in order, together with an apology, and Lianne offered the necessary words.

  ‘Any messages?’ She could do cool professionalism. She’d had considerable practice in donning the requisite façade.

  ‘They’re on your desk.’ The blonde checked the appointment register. ‘Pamela Whitcroft is waiting for you in the client lounge.’

  Oh, my. Just what she needed. The social doyenne sought legal opinion on the most trivial matters, and delighted in consulting…testing, Pamela assured Michael, the expertise of each and every one of his qualified staff.

  Lianne raised her eyes heavenward. Why me? At least, why me today?

  ‘Give me five minutes, then send her in.’ She turned and made her way along the curved corridor to her office where she took time to scan her messages, check Pamela’s file, and spare a customary glance over Melbourne’s cityscape.

  The office block represented stunning architecture at its best…a tall, circular glass-panelled sphere designed to offer the executive offices magnificent views across the Yarra River and beyond.

  It didn’t take long to prioritize the messages, and Lianne summoned a generous smile as her secretary announced the society doyenne.

  As morni
ngs went, it was a breeze. Pamela Whitcroft pontificated and prevaricated with considerable fervour, questioning each and every legal fact Lianne offered in explanation, and there was relief when the consultation concluded.

  Although with it came a sense of frustration in the knowledge that Pamela Whitcroft would be back, probably before the week’s end, seeking a professional opinion on the same queries from yet another junior lawyer in the firm.

  Coffee…she needed the caffeine fix, and something to ease the headache pulsing behind one eye.

  Routine and another client appointment took Lianne through to her customary lunch-break, which comprised a chicken salad sandwich and cold bottled water eaten at her desk in a bid to make up for lost time.

  The headache still lingered. She checked her watch, then opted for some fresh air in the leafy park immediately adjacent to the office building.

  Bliss, she accorded minutes later as a welcome breeze eased the tension behind her eyes, and she breathed deep, enjoying the smell of freshly cut grass mingling with the scent of garden blooms blossoming in the crisp late spring air.

  Melbourne was an attractive city, with wide streets traversed by green tramcars and lined in part with broad-spreading trees. Old buildings stood next to modern architecture, providing an eclectic mix, and council planners had allocated generous space for numerous parks.

  Well known for its unpredictable weather, regardless of seasonal climate, the day was mild, the skies azure with drifts of cloud and, whilst the sun provided minimum warmth, it was in direct contrast to the storm clouds and rain of the previous day.

  Lianne took the path towards the central gazebo, aware of fellow office workers, students and tourists enjoying the grounds.

  Couples lingered, with arms entwined and eyes only for each other.

  Sudden pain twisted her stomach and she sought to ignore it…without much success as Tyler’s powerful image came vividly to mind.