by Liz Fielding
‘Jay, I can’t!’
‘Really? Whatever happened to “love, honour and obey”?’ he demanded.
Kate looked aghast. ‘Surely no one ever uses that any more?’
‘Don’t you remember?’ She tried to recall the words of their wedding service. ‘You weren’t paying attention, were you, Mrs Warwick?’ he said, rather grimly. ‘You’ll just have to take my word for it.’
‘I—’
‘I’ll see you later. I’ve a few things to organise. And I particularly like that shimmery thing in the window. Get it.’
And because she was angry with him, when she arrived home hours later there was hardly any room left for her in the chauffeur-driven car he had sent for her.
The Spanish couple who looked after Jay at his London home had welcomed Kate with obvious delight. Now, opening the door, Maria exclaimed with excitement and called her husband to help carry the parcels into the house.
‘Kate? Is that you?’ Jay called to her from his bathroom.
‘And who else might it be?’ she demanded from the safety of her own bedroom.
‘That would be telling. Come and talk to me.’ She walked through the door that joined their rooms and stood a little self-consciously on the threshold of his bathroom. He was lying back in the tub, soaking, eyes closed. ‘Did you buy everything you’re likely to need?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘And a great deal I’m not.’
He opened one eye. ‘Good. Tonight, Mrs Warwick, we’re going to the opera. I hope you’ve bought something absolutely stunning to wear because you are going to be the centre of attention.’
‘Am I?’ Somehow the prospect of appearing in public on his arm in the stunning creation he insisted she buy was not so very displeasing.
‘Well? Don’t I deserve a thank-you?’
‘Certainly, Jay. Thank you.’
‘A proper thank-you.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Kiss me.’
She swallowed nervously. There was something so aggressively male about him as he lay stretched out, his arms along the edge of the huge bathtub, master of all he surveyed. Including her, although he had made no move yet to prove it.
On her arrival she had been shown to a beautiful bedroom with its own bathroom, adjoining a similar suite occupied by him. After dinner she had gone up and changed into a silk nightgown, rather like the one she had envisaged Annabel Courtney wearing, and lain in the vast bed waiting for him, her heart pounding with apprehension and nerves and something that might just have been longing if she had allowed herself to analyse the feeling. But he hadn’t come.
She moved closer to the bath and gazed down at the man she loved so much that it was a pain beneath her ribs. The she leaned gingerly forward and very gently kissed his forehead. His arms caught and held her.
‘That wasn’t a proper thank-you. It wasn’t even a proper kiss.’ His eyes flashed open. As he jerked her towards him she toppled over and fell with a scream into the bath. It was some time before he spoke and when he opened his eyes again they were basalt dark. ‘That, Mrs Warwick—for future reference—was a proper thank-you kiss,’ he murmured, and then he released her.
Kate, for a moment lost deep in wonder as his mouth claimed hers with a savage passion, suddenly realised she had been dismissed. She scrambled from the bath, her grey eyes sparking furiously, her suit, her hair dripping on to the marble floor, and glared at him.
‘I’ll do my best to remember, sir,’ she said and turned and walked back to her own room, slamming the door behind her.
She should have enjoyed the opera. But she didn’t. Every moment she was conscious that she was on display. That his warm smile, his attentive manner, were simply to impress the people who were so eager to speak to them, to meet Jay’s new wife. Despite her finery and the fact that her hair and make-up had been done for her by a beautician who had come to the house, and the diamond choker glittering at her neck, placed there by Jay before they left the house, she felt unpolished, gauche and conscious of their eyes turned upon her, wondering.
* * *
They stayed in London for nearly five weeks. By the time they left Jay had taken Kate to every show she expressed a wish to see. They had danced at all the fashionable nightspots and dined everywhere that the rich and famous were seen. Then one evening, as they arrived at a nightclub, Annabel Courtney waved across the room and, without asking Kate whether she wanted to join them, Jay went over.
Jay danced with her, holding her close, and she tried not to tremble, to betray the longing that grew rather than diminished as he stayed away from her bed. Then Annabel’s companion, heavily gallant, asked Jay if he might dance with his charming wife. Jay agreed, almost too quickly. On previous occasions when she had been asked to dance by his acquaintances, he had kept a firm hold of her hand and told them to find their own women. But she had seen Jay and Annabel exchange a glance. They wanted to be left alone and suddenly it was plain that this was no casual encounter. Annabel was getting impatient. Perhaps she should put the woman out of her misery, Kate thought, and tell her just how faithfully Jay had been to his long-time lover.
She danced with the man for a while, then excused herself, saying that she wasn’t feeling very well. It wasn’t a lie: their table was empty and Jay and Annabel weren’t dancing. She fled to the powder-room and took a while to gather herself, put the smile back in place. When she emerged she went to the door at the rear where there was a small courtyard garden, desperate for a breath of air. For a moment she thought she was alone. Then she heard the murmur of low voices. Jay and Annabel. They were standing in the shadows, very close, and she was unable to move without them seeing her.
‘…I’m sorry to mess things up, Annie. I had to do it. Good Lord, it’s only for a few weeks. Can’t you manage…’ Her hands clenched into small tight fists, her knuckles bone-white, and her nails dug into the palms of her hands as the bitter gall of jealousy rose in her throat and threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted to fly at Annabel Courtney and scratch her eyes out. Jay Warwick was her husband. He didn’t want her, that was plain, but if he could stay out of her bed, he could stay out of Annabel Courtney’s…
She stepped forward. ‘Jay? I’m tired, darling. Can we go home?’ She walked across to him and slipped her arm through his, smiling up at him, suggesting with her eyes that sleep was the last thing on her mind.
His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘I’ll get your wrap.’
On the way home, he suggested it was time to go back to Norfolk. It came as something of a relief. The scene in the nightclub had been the last straw. ‘Yes, it’s time to get back to work.’ She attempted a joke as they stood in the elegant hall of his London home. ‘I need the rest.’
He held her absently, rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand. ‘Poor Kate. Have I run you off your feet? I’m sorry. But it’s done the trick. We’ve become so boring that we haven’t been in a newspaper for a whole week. Now we can drop out of sight and get on with the rest of our lives. No one will even notice we’ve gone.’ And she cried herself to sleep in her lonely bed.
* * *
The rest of our lives. As they headed home the phrase seemed to thrum through her head. What life? A few weeks? At least if she had had an affair with Jay she would have had something to remember. Five weeks of dressing up to impress celebrity-watchers wasn’t exactly her idea of life. She left most of her finery behind in London. She would have no use for it in Norfolk. No use for it ever again.
She woke in a sudden panic as the car halted. ‘Jay?’
‘Time to wake up, sweetheart. We’re home.’
‘Home?’ She looked around. Fullerton Hall. Her home. At least for a while. She took the hand he offered to help her out of the car.
‘Hello, Tisha,’ he said, bending to kiss his aunt, who came out of the house to meet them.
‘Hello, Jay.’ She looked at Kate. ‘How are you? Did you have a good time?’ Then she laughed. ‘I suppose that’s a stupid question. Of course you have. I have
n’t stopped reading about the two of you in the papers. You can come and tell me all about it tomorrow when you’ve had time to catch your breath.’ She placed a bunch of keys firmly into Kate’s hand and wrapped her fingers around them. ‘These are yours now.’
Kate looked desperately at Jay. ‘Finally escaped to the Dower House, Tisha?’
‘And about time too. I was beginning to give up hope that you would ever settle down.’
‘Have you got everything you want?’
Lady Maynard beamed. ‘It’s bliss. Mrs Douglas and I are as comfortable as two fat bugs.’
‘No!’ Kate was horrified. ‘No, you must stay, Tisha! This is your home.’
‘Not for a million pounds, my dear. I’ve reached an age where I need my comforts close at hand. I’m getting too old to walk ten miles a day just to get from room to room.’ She patted her hand. ‘I’ll leave you two young things in peace.’
‘Jay…’
‘Now you know why Tisha’s been nagging me to get married for years. She can’t wait to hand it all over. When you’re her age I dare say you’ll feel the same.’
‘Jay! You must tell—’
‘Say goodbye, darling. You can visit tomorrow and tell her off as much as you like. Right now you can go and put your feet up. I’m sure Nancy will appreciate a little help tomorrow.’
‘Nancy’s staying in Oulton Market tonight, Kate. She’s left you a casserole in the fridge. It just needs heating up.’
‘I’ll come and see you in the morning, Tisha.’
‘Not before eleven,’ she warned, and refused Jay’s offer of a lift. ‘The walk will do me good.’
Kate turned on Jay the minute they were inside. She held out the keys helplessly. ‘What on earth am I supposed to do with these?’
‘Lord knows,’ he said, clearly bored with the subject. ‘I’m sure they’re purely ceremonial.’
‘And when you’ve decided that this farce is over?’
For a moment his eyes gleamed dangerously. Then he shrugged. ‘Throw them in the dustbin if you like.’
* * *
She unpacked her suitcases, stowing everything carefully away in the room she had left as a bride a few weeks earlier. It had been easy enough to keep up a pretence of marital bliss in London with adjoining rooms. She wondered what the cleaning staff would make of this arrangement. It probably didn’t matter. If they valued their jobs they would keep their mouths closed.
Afterwards she heated the casserole, although she didn’t feel in the slightest bit hungry. Jay disappeared into his study and, after trying to get interested in the television, Kate decided that she would go to bed and read. She had already changed into her nightdress when she realised that she had left her book in the car. She slipped on a wrap and went outside to retrieve it.
The weather had become dreadfully close in the last few days. It was so muggy that she could hardly breathe and the air had a curious metallic smell to it that gave her goose-bumps. A scurry of wind stirred the silk gown against her legs, sending a shiver through her as she hurried across to the coach-house to retrieve her book. Then she knew what was going to happen and she forgot about her book and began to run.
The sky was scorched with the unearthly flash of lightning before she made it to the house. She slammed the door and ran to the study, but Jay wasn’t there. She stood in the hall, unable to think or reason and as she hesitated the first crack of thunder shook the earth. And sensible, capable Kate Warwick opened her mouth and screamed.
‘Kate?’ Jay appeared in the doorway of his bedroom, naked but for a towel wrapped around his waist. ‘Kate? What is it?’ he demanded.
She didn’t answer. Was lost in blind panic as she picked up the skirt of her wrap and ran up the long staircase determined upon the safety of her bed. But Jay caught her and spun her round, holding her, his eyes creased in sudden concern.
‘My God, Kate, whatever is the matter with you? You’re shaking.’ She balked and went rigid as the blackness of the windows behind him was lit up by forked lightning that scythed livid acrosss the sky. A low moan escaped her lips as she waited for the dreadful sound she knew would follow. ‘Kate? Tell me?’ Jay shook her slightly. ‘Are you ill?’ The thunder cracked directly overhead and she wrenched herself free, diving for the huge four-poster that represented safety of a sort, burrowing under the covers, hiding her head beneath the pillows.
A scud of rain broke against the window-pane and Kate whimpered, shaking with terror, scarcely aware that Jay had slipped in beside her and had reached to offer her some comfort. Another crack of thunder rent the air and she pulled violently away, erupting from the covers, her hands over her ears. ‘I can’t bear it. Jay, please! Stop it! Make it go away!’ She turned and buried her face in his warm chest and he pulled her down and covered them both with the cover, wrapping his arms around her head to cut off the terrible noise.
‘Hush! It’s all right. Everything will be all right.’ He held her close as the storm raged around them, stroking her, raining gentle kisses about her hair and ears, cradling her as she trembled in his arms.
Gradually the storm moved away to sea and the shivering began to subside. Exhausted, she lay heavy as lead in his arms. Soon she knew she would begin to feel foolish, as she always did once the terror was passed. But right now she didn’t care. She had survived and she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
* * *
She woke in unfamiliar surroundings, shadowy from the soft light of a lamp. Then she remembered and turned to find Jay, propped on his side, watching her.
‘Are you all right now?’ he asked.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ She gradually became aware that she was lying alongside Jay’s half-naked body. It was beautiful in the soft pool of lamplight, like a marble statue she had once seen, but Jay was warm and the muscles rippled beneath his skin as he moved. And now he was looking down at her with something that might have been amusement touching his eyes. ‘But I do believe that you told me a lie, Kate Warwick,’ he said.
‘A lie?’ A shiver ran through her. Did he think that she was incapable of telling the truth?
But his hand stroked her face very gently. ‘A very small one. You told me you were afraid of nothing and I believed you.’
She swallowed hard. ‘Except thunder. I know it’s irrational. God shifting the wardrobe, that’s all. I just can’t help it.’
‘And do you always hide under the bedclothes?’
She smiled a little sheepishly. ‘Where else? You’re safe there, didn’t you know? Safe from monsters, safe from the dark, safe from thunder.’ But that was all illusory. With Jay’s arms around her she had felt a different kind of safety. Something warmer, more substantial. But his hand had strayed from the gentle comfort of her cheek. Slid hardly noticed over the smooth silk of her wrap to rest against her waist. And as he looked down at her, her body cried out for him.
‘That’s all rot, you know,’ he murmured, and his eyes darkened as the firm ripe bud of her breast hardened, betraying her. ‘Bed can be a very dangerous place indeed.’ He pulled the tie of her gown and she made no protest.
He didn’t rush her. Sensing that she was as nervous as a young doe, he took his time, uttering soft reassuring words as he smoothed the silk from her shoulders, nuzzling the smooth hollows of her neck until she shivered.
‘Cold?’ She shook her head. How could she be cold with the man she loved holding her in his arms? But suddenly the enormity of what she was about to do hit her, and she tensed.
As if sensing her uncertainty, he brushed the hair back from her face. Tender caresses of his lips covered her eyes, her cheeks, her forehead until she thought she would scream with the need for him to kiss her and her hands reached up to grasp his head and draw him down to her. Then his mouth was hard on hers, demanding, potent, hungry, and his body was pressing against her.
He cursed softly and threw back the covers. ‘I want to see you,’ his voice grated. ‘All of you.’ She moaned
at this desertion, but he drew the soft silk from her body, sliding it from her ankles, over her thighs to expose the creamy length of her body, his mouth following his urgent hands with butterfly touches that made her gasp with a sort of wonder. Then he dropped the discarded gown on the floor and lifted his head to feast himself.
‘you’re so lovely, Kate. I don’t know how I’ve found the strength to stop myself from doing this. Night after night…’
She lay back on the pillows, her hair a dark fan about her face. ‘I was waiting for you, Jay. Why didn’t you come?’
‘Because I forced you to marry me and I didn’t want you ever to say I had simply taken my “pound of flesh”. Only once, when I had you in that bath did I come close…’ He broke off. ‘Thank heaven for thunder.’ Then, with an effort of will that must have cost him dear, he turned away and lay on his back, staring up at the canopy. ‘If you’re not certain, Kate, if you want to go…it’s not too late.’
She propped herself up and with one hand tugged at the towel, wrapped so firmly about his waist. It was her turn to glory in the sight of his hard lean body and her fingers seemed to know what to do, how to show him how much she wanted him. He shivered as she touched him, and whatever happened afterwards she would have this to remember. ‘Yes it is, Jay. Far too late.’
He reached up and lightly touched the hard expectant peak of her breast and she writhed with pleasure, then cried out as his hand cupped it and his mouth replaced his finger.
‘Jay… I think I should…’ But he moved swiftly to lay her on her back and his tongue traced a line across her stomach and curled around her navel and the words were obliterated from her mind, dwindling to a soft whimper as his hands and mouth drove her instead to beg him for the fulfilment she so urgently desired.
‘Now, my love? You’re ready now?’
Her demand was urgent and he did not keep her waiting. The sharp stab of his entry was swiftly followed by almost unbearable pleasure, immersion in a world that was nothing but sensation as Jay, gently at first and then with growing ferocity, brought her to a crashing finale of ecstasy.