THE RELUCTANT BRIDE

by Joy Wodhams

  Instinctively assessing the danger of being close to him on a dance floor she wanted to refuse but he was already moving off, his hand catching hers and pulling her after him.

  He danced well. Too well. She looked away from his lazily moving figure.

  Then the music changed to a slow moody piece and Rod was drawing her towards him. “That's better,” he murmured. One hand at her waist, the other at the back of her neck, long fingers woven through the soft tendrils of her hair, he fitted her to his body.

  This was a mistake, Gabriella told herself as they swayed slowly to the music and she began to feel that strange heat that he was able to arouse in her so easily. She tried to move away. “Shall we sit down?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Tired already? Do you want to go to bed?”

  “No!”

  They continued to dance.

  The trio, suiting the music to the few couples who remained on the floor, were playing a selection of soft romantic melodies and as they danced on and on she knew that her resolve was weakening and that if she didn't tear herself away now it would be too late.

  Just one more dance, she promised herself, and let her head rest against his chest, closing her eyes to shut out the other dancers. Then she felt his fingers leave her neck and stroke through her hair, gently touch her eyes and ears and mouth. Risking a glance at him she saw that he was watching her, his dark eyes glittering in the half light, and something in his expression turned her limbs to liquid.

  “Shall we go up?” he murmured.

  She nodded. It was already too late.

  From the moment he closed the bedroom door behind them and gathered her into his arms she clung to him with a passion that shook her with its intensity. Yet even as he covered her trembling mouth with his, as he undressed her and carried her to his bed, as he knelt over her, his hands rousing her body to a fever pitch of desire, she bit back the halting half-formed endearments. There could be no language of love between them. Because there was no love. And never could be.

  And yet she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything in her life, and during the days and nights that followed her obsession with him grew, so that he had only to signal by a look or a touch for her to follow him to their private place.

  In her saner moments she knew she was building a trap which she would find more and more difficult to escape yet she had no one else to blame but herself. She had gone into the marriage with her eyes open, knowing what sort of man he was, knowing that despite everything something in her responded to him. She should have taken more care. For years she had vowed she would never allow any man to hurt her as her father had hurt her mother, and she had instantly recognised Rod as a man who could do just that if she let him. And yet – that first time, when she had fallen asleep naked on her bed. Suddenly she wondered if subconsciously she had wanted him to find her. But how could she behave so foolishly? She didn't know. All she knew was that she was going to pay for it. In peace of mind, and quite possibly in heartache.

  And then it was the last day. As they took off from the airport she craned for a last look at the island.

  “Sorry to be going home?” asked Rod.

  “No,” she said. But if she had answered honestly she would have said Yes. Who knew what problems might await them back in England? And unbidden and unwanted, Sue Langdon's alluring image sprang into her mind.

  In the pine panelled hall of White Gables the peppery scent of a huge vase of mauve and white lupins mingled with the smell of beeswax. Gabriella buried her nose in the flowers, remembering the great ranks of them each May in the herbaceous border, every colour from peach to purple, and how as a child she had loved to squeeze their little pea shaped flowers.

  “Welcome back, darlings!” Her mother's rapturous greeting enveloped them both. “Margaret and I have had such a lovely time, but I've missed you all the same.”

  Mrs Priddy came forward, smiling. “Helen's been out in the garden every day. I keep telling her she's doing too much but she won't listen.”

  “It's the best convalescence I could have, dears. And see – no walking stick! I've been managing without it quite a lot of the time – give me another week or two and I plan to toss it away altogether.”

  “That's wonderful.” Rod smiled at her. “You're certainly looking well, Helen. Tanned too. Anyone would think you'd been to Madeira.”

  Mrs Stevens laughed. “Being back at White Gables is holiday enough for me, although I do love Madeira. Your father took me there several times,” she said to Gabriella and, as often before, Gabriella wondered how her mother could speak of him so naturally and easily, seeming to harbour no trace of the bitterness she herself still nursed. “Now,” her mother went on, “go and freshen up but don't be too long. Margaret's preparing a very special homecoming dinner and we don't want to keep it waiting, do we?”

  “Our room finished?” asked Rod.

  “Of course, dear, although it was a close thing. The decorators didn't leave until yesterday lunchtime. Margaret's tried to get rid of the smell of paint but it may still linger.”

  “We'll leave the windows open,” said Gabriella. “It's warm enough. And thanks, Mum, for supervising everything.”

  “Darling, I've enjoyed it. Just like old times. And the room looks lovely.”

  Before they went away they had arranged to have the master bedroom and its adjoining dressing room and bathroom redecorated and refurnished, with the addition of a smaller bed in the dressing room for Rod. It was a compromise. At the time Gabriella would have preferred to banish Rod to a separate bedroom but they both knew that would arouse speculation. Now, dumping her case on the king sized bed in which she had expected to sleep alone, she wondered uncertainly what the new arrangement would be. She couldn't ask him and she waited for him to make some sign. But Rod, whistling quietly under his breath, was unpacking and when he did speak it was only to comment on the room.

  “Nice wallpaper. And I like that bluey green colour on the woodwork. What d'you call it?”

  “Aqua.”

  “Nice. You've got good taste, Gabriella, and now you've the money to indulge it. We'll look at the other rooms at the weekend.”

  “Why not tomorrow?”

  “Well, I'd like to go into the office. See what's been happening while we were away.” He went into the bathroom and she heard the splash of water as he washed.

  “But it's Friday,” she called. “No one's expecting us until Monday.”

  He came back, blotting his face with a thick white towel. “I don't like leaving the place for too long without any proper management. Anyway, I want to look at my mail.”

  She sighed. “All right, I'll come with you.”

  “Oh, there's no need for that. Why don't you spend the day with your mother? You can plan the garden together. I'll bring your mail home with me if you like, but knowing Jenny she's probably handled it all in her usual efficient manner.”

  Won't Sue have done the same?” She turned to look at him but he was hanging his suits in the wardrobe.

  “Possibly,” he said, his back still turned to her. “But I'd still like to check personally.”

  “In that case I think I should do the same.”

  The glance he flashed at her was unreadable but in its very lack of expression she sensed his annoyance and backed off. It was too soon for confrontations. “Perhaps I'll just stay for an hour or two. See Jenny, read the mail, then come back and have lunch with Mum and Mrs Priddy.”

  He smiled. “That sounds more sensible. Shall we go down?”

  As the evening drew to its close Gabriella realised with surprise that she had enjoyed it,. The meal of shellfish au gratin, lamb with rosemary and redcurrant, and a mousse rich with brandy and cream prepared by Mrs Priddy was superb, and at Rod's request the housekeeper joined them to eat.

  “We're all family tonight,” he said.

  Afterwards they took their drinks outside and wandered along the scented paths of the garden, Rod carrying Mrs Stevens'
glass while she held on to his arm, pausing now and then to allow her a sip. The two laughed together a great deal. It was good to see her mother so happy but nevertheless Gabriella was uneasy. Somehow she had not expected her mother to accept her new son-in-law quite so wholeheartedly. She would be distressed if she ever found out the real nature of the marriage and Gabriella knew how easily one or other of them could slip up and reveal the truth.

  Mrs Stevens tired first. She and Mrs Priddy went upstairs, leaving Rod and Gabriella to finish their drinks in the drawing room. The warmth had left the evening. He closed the French doors to the garden and under pretense of straightening cushions she watched him as he crossed the room to the fireplace and stood before it, his back turned to her., What now, she wondered? He appeared relaxed but the fingers of one hand were tapping out a slow beat on the rim of his glass and in the mirror above the mantel she could see that his dark face was sombre, absorbed in his own thoughts.

  Why didn't he speak? She tried to think of some easy remark that would break the silence but a tension had sprung up between them that made it impossible. She found it equally impossible to leave him and go up to their bedroom. Instead she moved to the window and sank into one of the comfortable armchairs that overlooked the terrace. The heavy silk curtains, whose pale soft green matched the walls of the room, were undrawn and although the night was dark she could see the glimmer of white flowers beyond the stone balustrade of the terrace. On a table beside her chair her mother or Mrs Priddy had arranged a bowl of early roses. She ran her fingers delicately over the petals, releasing the clean sharp, almost soapy, perfume from their golden stamened centres.

  The silence stretched out.

  When she felt she could bear it no longer she heard him coming towards her. He stood beside her chair, hands in his pockets, and stared out at the garden. She was very aware of his nearness, of the warmth that emanated from him. The sleeves of his light blue denim shirt were rolled up carelessly and she wanted to reach out and stroke the deeply tanned skin that they exposed. She wanted him to take her in his arms. God, what was happening to her?

  He spoke at last.

  “You've got what you want now. Your mother well and happy. This house. No financial problems.” He glanced down at her. “You've got everything you want, haven't you?”

  No. I want more. I want you too. But not the way you are, never as you are. “Yes,” she whispered. “I've got all I want.” She waited but he said nothing. “And you?”

  “Of course.” He gazed through the window for a moment longer, then turned abruptly and strode from the room.

  She stared after him. Had he gone to bed? She waited but he didn't return and in the end she rose, turned off the lights and went slowly up the stairs to their room.

  It was empty. And the door to the dressing room was closed. She tiptoed across to it and listened, holding her breath. At first she heard nothing, then came a faint creak from the bed as he shifted his position.

  She backed away until her knees hit the edge of a chair. She sat down, letting out her breath in a long sigh. She had not expected the heartache to begin so soon.

  In the morning he was polite, equable, a stranger. Neither of them mentioned the previous night. Breakfast was a rushed affair and Gabriella was grateful that her mother was still in bed. She left a note for her, promising to return for lunch.

  “We might as well take both cars,” Rod said. “Otherwise you'd have to take a taxi home.”

  “That makes sense,” she agreed.

  He picked up his briefcase and jacket. “In that case I'll see you there.” He nodded and was gone.

  She listened for the scrunch of gravel as his car turned in the drive, then she got up, tipped her uneaten toast and scrambled egg down the waste disposal, and followed him out of the house.

  “Gabriella! What are you doing here?” a surprised Jenny greeted her as she walked into her office. “Where's Rod?”

  “He's here too, but I'm only staying for a couple of hours.”

  “You look marvellous. Not very tanned but that's hardly to be expected,” Jenny grinned.

  Gabriella made herself laugh. “When you see Rod you'll think we spent all our time in the sun” She changed the subject quickly. “What about Englands? Any problems while we've been away?”

  Jenny pulled a wry face. “Oh, nothing much. The trainers came a day late so all the schedules had to be altered. One of the new machines had a bug in the programme. The VAT man turned up without warning -”

  Gabriella groaned.

  “Don't worry. We managed. We even got three orders out on time!”

  “Thank goodness. Who's we?”

  “Frank has been fantastic. He got on to the machine suppliers and bullied them into getting someone here overnight. Frank stayed with him and they had it sorted out by morning. And then he got everyone working at double speed to catch up on production. I think he's got a knotted whip somewhere!”

  “I'm glad he's turned out so well. Rod and I were worried about him a while ago.”

  Jenny nodded. “I know. But you don't have to worry now.”

  “What about the training?”

  “The schedules weren't too much of a problem. I persuaded the tutors to put in some after-hours with the trainees and we've caught up now. The VAT man caused the most havoc. He was under my feet for two days.”

  “Well, thanks for coping so well, Jenny, I really appreciate it. Tell you what, let's have lunch out on Monday. My treat.” She hesitated. “What about Sue? Did she manage all right with Rod away?”

  Jenny's grin faded slightly. “Oh yes. Well – she had a day off sick. But otherwise -”

  She was hiding something. Jenny was Sue's confidante, Gabriella was sure of it, and she wanted to drag the truth out of her. But she couldn't do that. It wouldn't be fair to Jenny and anyway it would be too humiliating to have the situation between Sue and Rod put into words. “What about the mail? Any surprises there?”

  Jenny smiled, obviously relieved at the change of subject. “Nothing important. I've dealt with most of it. The ones that still need action are in your tray.”

  As she sifted through the accumulation of correspondence she wondered if Rod was doing the same. Or was he 'comforting' Sue? The urge to drop everything and march along to his office was almost irresistible. She resisted it until eleven o'clock and then she cleared everything away into her desk drawers.

  “If there's nothing else, I'm off,” she told Jenny. “Have a good weekend.” She grabbed her coat and bag and then she was on her way.

  Sue's room was empty. Gabriella hesitated before the door of Rod's office. Should she just barge in? She put her hand on the door handle, then withdrew it and knocked.

  “Come in,” came Rod's deep voice.

  He was behind his desk and swivelled his chair to face her. At his side sat Sue and Gabriella saw that her eyes were red rimmed. The girl rose as she entered and brushed past her without a word.

  “Is something wrong?” Gabriella asked, knowing that it was.

  Rod looked at her coldly. “You'll no doubt consider it good news.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She's leaving. Today.”

  She stared at him. “Are you -” She moistened her lips which were suddenly dry. “Are you going to tell me why?”

  “No, I don't think so. Of course, she should work out a month's notice, but I never think that's a particularly good idea, do you? So she's finishing tonight and I'm paying her until the end of June. Have you any objection?”

  “Not if that's what you want to do,” she said slowly. “But I'd still like to know -”

  He swung his chair back to his desk and picked up his telephone. “You'll have to excuse me, Gabriella, I've got to recruit a new secretary from somewhere, preferably to start on Monday.”

  She stood up. “I'm going home now. Ask Jenny to help you. She can phone the agencies.” She turned and left him.

  That afternoon as she worked on the garden with he
r mother her thoughts returned constantly to Sue Langdon, searching for an explanation. Why was she leaving? Was it her decision or Rod's? And did it mean that the affair was over? If that was the case, how would it affect her own relationship with Rod? Would he turn to her? Or to someone else, yet another new face?

  She thought of Rod's ex-wife, 'the lovely Caroline', and felt a distant sympathy for the torment she must have gone through. Presumably she had loved Rod when she married him. How soon had it been before he sought out other women?

  She sat back on her heels, the trowel dropping earth unheeded on to her lap, hit by the sudden realisation that she was behaving just like a jealous wife. But she wasn't his wife, at least not in any real sense of the word. She stared at a clump of blue delphiniums without seeing them, reminding herself of the terms she had insisted upon. Hadn't she made it quite clear to Rod, over and over again, that the marriage was to be purely a business arrangement?

  But Madeira had changed all that and for the first time she admitted to herself how dangerously close she was to falling in love with the man. If he came home now – if he touched her – she closed her eyes, dizzy with a sudden longing for him.

  “Are you all right, dear?” asked Mrs Stevens who, balanced on one stick, was snipping fresh flowers for the house.

  “Yes, Mum. Just been bending over for too long. I think I'll start on the lawns instead.”

  As she marched up and down behind the mower she lectured herself fiercely. Stop behaving like a weak silly fool. He cares nothing for you, so stop thinking of him as anything more than a business partner. No more questions, no more tearful scenes, no more lovemaking. As for Madeira, forget it. Madeira was just a meaningless interlude.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  When Rod telephoned to say he would be late that evening she had to bite back the accusations that she knew would only anger him and increase her own misery.

  “Don't hold dinner,” he said. “I'm not sure when I'll be home.”

  “Problems?”

  “Something wrong with one of the machines. Nothing major but I'd like to stay till it's working again. Don't save anything for me – I'll send someone out for a sandwich.”