THE RELUCTANT BRIDE

by Joy Wodhams

  “Oh Mum, so many questions! Look, I hardly -” Gabriella paused. Let her mother believe what she clearly wanted to believe. It would lessen the shock when Gabriella told her that her only daughter was soon to be married.

  A whirlwind romance. Her mother was a romantic, she would accept it, provided neither Rod nor Gabriella herself gave the game away.

  In the car after leaving the pub she had tried to make Rod see how important it was that her mother should suspect nothing.

  “If I agree to marry you – and it's still if – there'd be certain conditions.”

  “I expected there would be.” Rod's voice was dry.

  “My mother has to believe that we're planning a – a proper marriage.”

  “You mean, fully legal?” he queried, deliberately obtuse.

  Gabriella felt the heat rising in her. “You know what I mean. I won't have her upset in any way. I just want you to play the part in front of her.”

  He laughed. “All right, Gabriella. I'll come courting you, take you out to dinner, ogle you three times a day, pine at my desk. By the way, would you like a white wedding? How many bridesmaids?”

  “All right, Rod, no need to overdo it. Just as long as you convince my mother.”

  “And the staff at Englands. We mustn't lose our credibility there.”

  “Englands! Is that all you can think about?”

  “Money! Is that all you're interested in?” he rejoined.

  They glared at each other in the dark.

  “Look,” said Rod at last. “Let's not waste time snarling at each other. I know I'm not exactly your favourite person and I can't say you're mine, but if we're to be stuck with each other for five years, we'll have to call some sort of truce. Agreed?”

  She nodded reluctantly. “Very well.”

  “Your mother's feelings are important to you, but the attitude of everyone at Englands – and I mean everyone, from the production manager down to the sweeper-up on the factory floor – is important to me. To both of us. We have to manage that company, Gabriella, and if we can't do it with the staff's confidence and respect we might as well not try.”

  She had to agree.

  “So, whatever it takes I'll do it, and so will you, even if we have to take drama lessons to make it convincing. The hostilities are over, Gabriella.”

  “Darling, where are you?”

  She came back to the warm softly lit room and her mother's voice.

  “I've been talking to you for minutes and I'm sure you haven't heard a word! You must be in love, my dear!”

  Plumping up pillows, fussing with the duvet, Gabriella tried to avoid her mother's bright gaze.

  “You do like this young man, don't you, dear?” her mother persisted.

  Gabriella sighed and crossed her fingers under a fold of the duvet. “Yes,” she said at last, reluctantly. “I suppose I do.” It was a lie and she hated lying to her mother. Better get used to it, she told herself. From now on she would be living a lie.

  It was with relief that at last she was able to shut herself into her bedroom, after parrying a barrage of eager questions. There would be more to face when she told her colleagues at Englands. How well would she be able to act the part of a starry eyed bride to be?

  And then there was Bernard. Coward-like, she wished she could just write him a letter, but he deserved better than that. She sighed. Poor Bernard. However much she had tried to fool herself earlier she knew he was bound to be upset. Naturally. Two years was a long time. Of course, it was a long time for her too, and pausing in the act of stripping off her jeans and sweater she wondered why the prospect of ending the relationship didn't affect her more. Had she become so unfeeling? But she had never felt more than affection for Bernard. And despite what she had said to her mother, they had nothing fundamental in common.

  And he didn't excite her. There was none of that stirring in the blood, that sudden trembling heat that had left her breathless and ready to abandon herself into Rod's embrace when he touched her.

  Rod excited her. For the first time she admitted to herself the strength of his appeal. Standing motionless by her bed, a pink cotton nightdress clutched between her hands, she saw him as vividly as if he were there in the room. His dark eyes, blue in their depths, narrowed with amusement. His mouth, firm but sensual. The litheness of him, tapering from broad powerful shoulders to flat narrow hips. The long muscular legs.

  That strange heat rose within her again and she knew that what she planned was flagged for danger. Whatever conditions she laid down, however impersonal she tried to make their contract, if she married Rod she would be playing with fire. And if she got burned, she would have nothing to blame but her own weakness./

  She looked down at the crumpled ball of pink cotton and let it drop to the bed. Turning, she caught a glimpse of herself in the wardrobe mirror and paused.

  “You look sixteen,” he had said. She stared at her slim reflection with a newly critical eye, suddenly dissatisfied with her small breasts, her small pale mouth, her pointed chin. Childish? She lifted her hair, twisted it into a topknot that should have looked sophisticated but didn't.

  With an exclamation she let the heavy gold hair slip to her shoulders and turned from the mirror. What was she doing? Rod Nicholson clearly found her unattractive, tiresome and lacking in sex appeal, but as long as he kept that opinion she was safe from his advances. She would be crazy to try to change it.

  Grabbing the nightdress, she pulled it roughly over her head, jumped into bed, switched off the light and glowered into the darkness.

  CHAPTER THREE

  In the morning she awoke late, heavy eyed and irritable. Showering away the disturbing, half remembered dreams of the night she experienced a growing horror.

  Last night she had agreed to marry Rod Nicholson. She had allowed him to persuade her – no, that wasn't quite true, she had persuaded herself – that it was the sensible, the right, thing to do. But in the cold light of morning she knew that it would be a fiasco of a marriage. She couldn't possibly go through with it. No, not even for a fortune, not even for White Gables. She paused, the sponge pressed dripping against her throat. Not even to help her ailing mother?

  Money could buy her so much,. Renewed good health. A quality of life she had lacked for so many years. Gabriella would be heartless to refuse her such an opportunity. She leaned her forehead against the tiled wall and closed her eyes. What was she to do? Did her own feelings really matter? Yet the prospect of a close relationship with Rod was so abhorrent that she doubted if anything could make it bearable. No, it was no use. The price was too high. When she saw Rod, she would tell him so.

  Snatching a towel, she began roughly to dry herself, refusing to dwell on what she would be giving up.

  Inching through the peak hour traffic a quarter of an hour later she was glad that Rod's appointments would keep him away from the office that morning. She didn't trust him. He was quite capable of dropping a few hints here and there without consulting her first. If she was going to nip this whole thing in the bud, she had to make sure she got to him before anyone else did.

  The sudden wail of a siren brought her back to the busy street and she hunched obediently into the kerb as a police car screamed by. Glancing at her watch she saw that she was already five minutes late and the traffic was heavy. Suddenly anxious – suppose Rod decided to call into Englands first? - she took advantage of a gap in the oncoming line of cars and accelerated out to overtake a sedately paced Jaguar, ignoring the driver's angry hoot. The road ahead was clear. By nine fifteen she was turning into the car park at Englands.

  Immediately she saw Rod's Lexus,settled into the reserved space next to her own. Damn, damn, damn! What was he doing here? She stared at the Lexus as if it could tell her something. It stared blankly back.

  “Good morning, Jenny,” she greeted her secretary as she hurried into her outer office. “Hello, Sue, did you want me?” She was surprised to find Rod's secretary, who rarely emerged from the cloakroom befor
e nine thirty, making her rounds so early. She watched the girl slide elegantly, revealing a great deal of long shapely leg, from her perch on Jenny's desk. There was no doubt that the results of Sue Landon's grooming sessions in the cloakroom were spectacular. Chestnut hair carefully combed into a luxurious tangle, lustrous eyes fringed with lashes like black chenille and a voluptuous body that most men at Englands found impossible to ignore, she was just the sort of status secretary Rod would choose, Gabriella thought with cynicism. Personally, she preferred her own hardworking Jenny.

  “I'm just going,” said Sue. “How are you this morning, Gabriella?”

  “Me? Fine, why?” She fancied that the girls exchanged a knowing look.

  Sue gave her red lipped smile. “Oh, I just wondered. Well, I must be off before Rod comes and drags me physically back to his office. That man Who'd object? But of course, you'd know better than any of us, wouldn't you, Gabriella?” She laughed and with a swing of her long hair sauntered out, closing the door softly behind her.

  Gabriella understood Sue's cryptic remark when she entered her office and saw the outsize bouquet of red roses that lay across her desk. Through the crisp cellophane the card was painfully easy to read.

  “Thanks for an unforgettable night, Gabriella darling. Love, Rod.”

  Snatching up the roses, crushing their velvet globes, she was overcome by a wave of anger that turned her dizzy. How dared he? How dared he! She turned to the waste basket. But throwing the flowers away now would serve no purpose, the damage was done. Letting the bouquet drop on to a chair she picked up her phone and jabbed at the buttons.

  “I got your flowers,” she grated when Rod answered.

  “Oh good! Did you like them?”

  “I hate red roses.”

  “What a shame. Tomorrow I'll send you white ones.”

  “I don't want you -” She lowered her voice, aware suddenly of the partially open door. “I don't want you to send me anything, Rod Nicholson. I'd prefer you to crawl away into a hole and stay there.”

  “Darling, such hard words to a new fiance!” She could hear the amusement in his voice. “Should we be having lovers' quarrels so soon?”

  “We shouldn't be having anything. I've changed my mind.”

  “Really I'm afraid you're a little late, my dear. The word is already out.”

  “Couldn't you even wait until I got here?” She was gripping the receiver so hard that her knuckles ached. If he had been in her office at that moment she would have hit him over the head with it. “And if you had to rush at it like a bull in a china shop, couldn't you at least have shown some decency?”

  He laughed again. “Well now, Gabriella, how would you have accounced our forthcoming marriage?”

  “If there had been one to announce I would have let everyone know gradually. With some dignity. Not like this.”

  “But darling, who'd believe it? We haven't time for a long drawn out Victorian courtship.”

  “You think they'll believe this? That I'd want to marry you after – after -”

  “Why not? The cool spinster, seething with locked up passions? The handsome seducer with the key?” He laughed. “It's an old, old story, my darling.”

  “You're disgusting. I don't suppose you care that everyone will be laughing at me. No doubt your secretary is out right now spreading the word.”

  “Actually I did give her some errands that will take her all over the factory. Darling, don't worry. This way it will be just a three day wonder and then we can get on with what's important. Really, you mustn't care so much what others think.” His voice sank to a caress. “After all, we know it's true love, don't we?”

  “God, I hate you, Rod Nicholson! And stop calling me darling!” Cutting short his laughter she rammed down the phone.

  She had been right not to trust him. Now what could she do?

  “Lovely, aren't they?” Jenny advanced into the room with a mug of coffee. “Wish someone would send me roses.”

  “Have some of these. There's enough for six.”

  “Yes, Rod doesn't do anything by halves, does he?”

  “No, he doesn't

  “I know I'm nosy as hell,” said Jenny, “and it's not my business, but – you and Rod – are you -”

  “You're right, it's not your business, Jenny.” Fussing with the morning's post, Gabriella sensed the girl's hurt., “Sorry,” she said after a moment. “I didn't mean to bite your head off. It's just – it's just -”

  “I think it's fantastic!”

  Gabriella shot her a glance but saw no mockery. “Really?”

  “You and Rod are so different but they say opposites attract. You know, it wouldn't at all surprise me if you didn't get Rod to settle down again.”

  Again? What did she mean?

  Jenny prattled on as she changed the calendar date, sorted through Gabriella's Out tray. “There'll be hundreds of jealous females if you succeed. Including me!”

  “What about Sue?”

  “Ah, Sue's different.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jenny looked uncomfortable. “Well, she and Rod are quite close. He's done a lot for her, but -”

  “Look, there's something I must do,” Gabriella broke in, hardly listening. Rod had put her in an unbelievably embarrassing situation. She had to extricate herself before it became even worse.

  “You've an appointment with Human Resources at nine thirty,” said Jenny.

  “Cancel it.”

  But when she got to Rod's office he had already left, Sue told her with another knowing look and wouldn't be back until late afternoon.

  All day Gabriella hid in her office, giving Jenny the excuse that she was catching up on reports but in reality unable to face the speculative looks of those the grapevine, alias Sue Landon, had already reached.

  It was almost five when she heard Rod's car drive into the car park below her window. She gave him a few minutes to get to his desk, then phoned.

  “I meant it,” she said. “I'm not going to marry you.”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone.

  “I've been thinking about it all day and really, the whole thing is ridiculous. I should never have listened to you.”

  She listened now but the silence continued. Why didn't he say something?”

  “I'm no actress, Rod. No one is going to believe that I – that we – and -and I can't possibly tie myself down for five years. I'm not even sure I want to stay with Englands. There are other firms, you know, and I've been considering a change. Somewhere bigger, with more potential. Perhaps even abroad, the market's opening up now, you know, and my French is pretty good.” She found herself inventing wildly, babbling into the silence, and drew herself up short. “Besides – I know I should have told you beforfe but – there's my fiance.”

  That drew him. “Your fiance?”

  “Bernard.” She swallowed and waited.

  “I'm coming round.”

  “Rod, it's no good arguing about it. I've made up my mind.”

  “I'll be with you in one minute.”

  “I'm just leaving -”

  “Stay there.”

  “Rod, I've got an appointment -” Damn him. He had put the phone down. But she could still avoid him. Grabbing her briefcase she stuffed papers into it, slung her jacket over her shoulders, locked her desk and was out of the door.

  He caught her as she was unlocking her car. His hand closed over hers and took possession of her keys.

  “Your place or mine,” he drawled.

  “Neither. I've no time to talk now, Rod. I told you. I've an urgent appointment.”

  “I imagine that's as close to the truth as the excuses you've just been making.”

  “I resent that. We're not all liars, Rod.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “We don't all go back on our word, either.”

  “I didn't give my word. Well, if I did, you bullied me into it. I don't consider that it has any meaning in those circumstances!”

  “
Well, it's obvious you've got cold feet, Gabriella.” He gazed at her for a full minute, lips pursed in a soundless whistle. “Look, I'm the last one to force you into anything -” Oh really? She wanted to laugh in his face. Rod was a world master at forcing people to do what he wanted. “But I can see you need to talk this through. Why don't you come back to my apartment? I'll knock up something to eat and we can discuss it properly without interruption or distraction.”

  It was a perfectly reasonable suggestion. But back to his apartment? Alone? Oh, for heaven's sake, she scolded herself. She was over twenty one and Rod wasn't a rapist. Even if he made a pass he would surely take no for an answer. She risked a glance at him, seeing from beneath her lashes the sensuality of the dark face, the strength of the long body that leaned against her car, and shivered.

  “I'll have to phone my mother,” she said.

  “Will she be all right alone?”

  “Yes, I always leave a meal prepared in case I have to work late. But I can't stay all evening,” she warned.

  His eyes narrowed in amusement. “Don't worry, I've other plans for later.”

  With whom? she wondered. “I'm sure I don't want to keep you,” she said stiffly. “May I have my keys now?”

  He lived in the older part of the town, a street of Edwardian semi-detached houses converted into luxury apartments. She parked her car behind his on the long curving drive that led to the entrance of one of the largest properties and looked around with curiosity as he led her into his apartment on the ground floor.

  The living room was spacious and he had painted the walls and doors and the carved woodwork of the Adam style fireplace white. The beige and black furnishings gave the room a neutral look but he had introduced colour with modern paintings, books, comfortable cushions and an Oriental rug before the hearth. He had good taste, she admitted. Or had one of his girlfriends advised him?

  Rod knelt and switched on the gas logs that filled the fireplace.

  “The phone's over there. You can call your mother while I see what I can find in the fridge.”