by Penny Jordan
And that was not all. Sophy knew she was challenging his sexuality. Knew it and despised herself for it, and yet seemed unable to do anything about it. She wanted him to react to her as a woman. But why? If he did she knew what the outcome would be. As far as she was concerned sex was something that was painful and humiliating. She was thoroughly confused by herself and what she was doing. Thoroughly and completely.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘I’VE GOT TO GO into Cambridge today—I don’t know when I’ll be back, probably later this afternoon.’
They were all having breakfast and Sophy inclined her head in acknowledgement of Jon’s remarks. From today she was going to start behaving differently, she told herself. It was pointless trying to attract the attention of a man who had told her that he had no interest in her sex. She had been acting very irresponsibly, and she was lucky that Jon was so completely oblivious to what she had been trying to do, otherwise he would have been very embarrassed.
Jon’s taxi was due to arrive while she was taking the children to school, and driving them there she found herself fretting over the fact that she was not at home to see Jon off. That such a small thing should have such a tremendous effect on her, was worrying. She tried to rationalise her behaviour by telling herself she was naturally worried because she knew that Jon was bound to forget some all important something but deep down inside she knew it was not that. She wanted to be there physically, to be with him, she realised on a sudden start of disquiet, not liking the conclusions that went with the realisation.
When she got back, the house felt empty. She performed her normal household chores automatically and then went into the study to check through the morning’s post. There was nothing that was particularly urgent but there was a letter with an airmail stamp from Nassau addressed to Jon and marked ‘Private and Confidential’. Was it from his friend? Or was it from the woman who had allowed him to use her apartment and pool? She didn’t like the sensations stirring deep inside her. She had no right to be jealous of any friendships Jon might form outside their marriage and besides, what was there to be jealous of? She had known when she married Jon what their marriage would be and she had been happy with that knowledge. She had also believed that Jon was as immune from sexual desire as she felt herself to be. And so he was, she told herself firmly, but somehow she couldn’t stop herself from thinking that maybe in Nassau he had discovered a woman who could break through his barrier of indifference. The thought made the unpleasant sensations lodged beneath her breastbone, increase. Tension held her body in a vice-like grip, jealousy tormenting her mind with mental pictures of Jon’s tanned body entwined with that of some unknown but lithely desirable woman whose face she could not see.
Telling herself that it was the heat that was making her so on edge and prickly, Sophy went upstairs, stripping off her clothes and standing beneath the shower, letting the cool water slide off her over-heated skin.
Only when it was starting to raise goosebumps did she emerge from the water, towelling herself dry briskly. It was too hot to work indoors, and she was too restless to concentrate on anything. She might as well spend what was left of the morning sunbathing, she thought wryly, hunting through her drawer for her bikini. As she stood up she caught a glimpse of her nude body in the mirror. The sun had turned her skin a soft, golden colour banded by cool white where her bikini had concealed it from the hot rays. The colour suited her, she recognised, her attention caught and held by her own reflection. It was years since she had looked at her body—really looked at it that was, perhaps not even since that débâcle with Chris. Now she studied what she saw, with careful eyes, noting the slender strength of her shoulders, the fullness of her breasts tipped with deep coral, the flatness of her ribcage and the slight swell of her stomach. She had a woman’s body now, not a girl’s, curved and feminine but those curves and the warm glow of her skin offered a promise the woman inside could not fulfill. She might look entirely female and desirable, but she was not, she reminded herself bitterly, and the desire she felt to reach out and touch Jon and to be touched by him in return must surely spring from some contradictory impulse inside her which knew quite well that it was safe to torment her in this fashion since there was no question of that desire ever being fulfilled. No doubt if Jon did make any attempt to touch her she would recoil from him as she had done from all the others, fearing his discovery of the truth about her; that she was just an empty sham of femininity.
She was supposed to be sunbathing, not standing here letting herself get morose, she reminded herself, hurriedly tugging on her bikini and going downstairs.
The garden was slumbrous with heat, bees droning drunkenly from flower to flower, heavy with pollen. Above her the sky was a hot blue arc, the grass beneath her feet was drying out in patches where the sun had burned it. She really ought to do some weeding, she thought, wryly glancing at the untidy beds, but she was too tired. Since Jon came back she hadn’t been sleeping very well, something she had refused to admit to herself until now.
She lay on her stomach, pillowing her head in a cushion, and then remembering the small white bank of flesh across her back, reached behind herself and unfastened the ties of her bikini. It was completely private in the garden and she was unlikely to be disturbed.
In her sleep she moved, turning on to her side, and curling her body inwards slightly into a position that was automatically defensive.
Someone was touching her, stroking her skin. Jon! A wave of pleasure shivered through her and she stretched beneath his touch like a cat asking to be stroked, opening her eyes and saying his name with sleepy delight.
Only it wasn’t Jon, it was Chris, the expression on his face frighteningly resentful as his fingers tightened round her unprotected breast, squeezing painfully…hurting her.
She was instantly and icily cold, shrinking instinctively from him, any thought she had entertained that she might be turning into a sex-starved female ready to welcome any man’s caresses dying instantly and completely. The only sensation Chris’s touch aroused was one of intense revulsion. Angrily she reached out to push him away, but he was too strong for her, burying his fingers in her hair, and tugging painfully on it as he pushed her back on to the ground.
Somewhere she could hear the sound of a car and struggled harder but all her struggles seemed to do was to inflame him further. She could feel the hot urgency of his breath against her skin, his voice thick and angry as he muttered, ‘You bitch…you deserve this!’ His mouth was on hers, his teeth savaging her tightly closed lips. She could hear footsteps coming towards them, shaking the sun-baked ground so that she could feel the movements against her ear. She tried to push Chris away thankful that they were about to be interrupted but was unprepared for the suddenness with which he released her and stood up. She turned her head, but the sunlight dazzled her for a moment.
‘I think you’d better tidy yourself up a bit, darling, your husband’s here.’
What an actor Chris was, pretending that she had welcomed his touch when…Jon…Jon was back! She sat up quickly, struggling with the ties of her bikini.
‘Why not let me do that for you?’ Chris was actually daring to reach out and touch her.
‘Get away from me!’ She stood up shakingly, securing the strings, and looked at Jon. He seemed to be studying the progress of a particularly heavy bee.
‘Thank heavens you’re back. Chris forced himself on me, Jon,’ she told him thickly. ‘I was asleep and…’
‘Oh come on, darling, surely you can do better than that?’ Chris was jeering now, but she could see the very real hatred in his eyes, and wondered at the cause of it. Why was Chris doing this to her? And then instinctively she knew. He had never forgiven her for her frigidity and now he wanted to punish her for daring to find sexual happiness with someone else.
‘I’m sure your husband is nowhere near as stupid as he looks.’ He looked tauntingly at
Jon, who returned the look with mild curiosity. Grinning at her, Chris walked away from them. Sophy watched him go in complete silence. Hadn’t Jon understood what she was telling him?
She heard a car engine fire and then slowly purr down the drive and bitter resentment flooded through her body. It was wrong and unfair that Chris should be able to walk away like that after physically molesting her and humiliating Jon. She took a deep breath and found that she was shaking…tense with an anger that had to find an outlet.
‘Do you realise that if you hadn’t come back when you did he would probably have tried to rape me?’ she cried emotionally. ‘And you let him just walk away. You…for God’s sake, Jon, what kind of husband are you?’ she demanded thickly.
Had he even heard what she was saying? He appeared to be studying one of the flowers but at last he lifted his head and looked at her in that rather abstracted way of his, glancing away to remove a piece of fluff from his shirt-sleeve before replying.
‘The kind who feels that when he discovers his wife in the arms of an old lover, discretion might possibly be the better part of valour,’ he told her calmly. ‘You must admit that I had no way of knowing whether his embrace was welcome or not, Sophy.’
‘But I’m married to you,’ she pointed out despairingly. God, didn’t he even care the smallest bit? Wasn’t he the slightest bit jealous or resentful? If she had been the one to walk into that scene…if she had discovered him…
‘Our marriage does not give me the right to assume physical chastity on your part.’
‘But you said—’ She broke off. What was the use? Jon plainly did not care one way or the other, despite his statement before they were married that he would not expect her to take lovers.
‘Always logical and calm, that’s you, isn’t it, Jon?’ she demanded bitterly. ‘You’re just like one of those damned computers you’re so fond of—incapable of any human emotional reaction.’
She pushed past him and ran into the house, going straight up to her room, and flinging herself face down on the bed. She badly wanted to cry, in a way she couldn’t remember doing in years. Chris’s attack had frightened her; her body ached with the tension that fear had brought, and her breast throbbed where he had hurt her but what hurt far more, was Jon’s calm indifference. He had stood there and let Chris insult him and her, and he had said nothing—not even when she had told him that Chris had attacked her. He had looked at her with his face wiped clean of all expression—totally emotionless.
She was his wife for heaven’s sake. She had a right to expect his protection…his…his championship. Chris had hurt and frightened her…and primitive though it was, she acknowledged that she would have liked to have seen Jon hurt and frighten him in return. Had he believed what Chris had said to him? She swallowed suddenly turning over and staring unseeingly up at the ceiling. Surely not? She had been so caught up in her own feelings, in the shock of listening to Chris’s lies, that it had never occurred to her that Jon might believe them, that he might take what had happened at face value.
Did he really think she was that sort of woman? The sort who would break the solemn vows of marriage…who would allow herself to be involved with a man who was already married, who had once treated her with such contempt? Didn’t Jon know her at all?
Tiredly she got up, but instead of going downstairs and apologising to Jon for her outburst and talking to him about what had happened as she knew she should, she showered again, and dressed slowly, too heart-sick to face him. Her apology would have to wait until she was in a calmer frame of mind. As she went downstairs, she heard sounds from the study and guessed that he was working. Well, that gave her an excuse not to interrupt him.
He was still working when she went to fetch the children back from school. For once their energy and chatter gave her no pleasure. She felt drained and deeply unhappy. This was the time when she needed a mother or a sister to talk to, she thought wearily, someone who would understand what she was feeling.
When they got back, an unfamiliar brand new car was parked outside the house. Mentally admiring the sleek lines of the very expensive BMW, Sophy shepherded the children inside the house. The car probably belonged to one of Jon’s clients, many of whom were extremely wealthy men and she paused outside the now silent study, reluctant to disturb a business meeting.
The children it seemed had no such qualms and burst in before she could stop them, Alex shouting out, ‘We’re back, Uncle Jon!’
Reluctantly she followed them to find that Jon was alone in the study. She glanced round it and then looked at him. ‘I thought you had someone with you,’ she told him. ‘There’s a car outside.’
‘Yes.’ For once he looked neither vague nor embarrassed. ‘It’s yours… I bought it for you this morning.’
She had to sit down to get over the shock. Jon had bought that car for her! ‘But it’s so expensive! Jon…’
‘You said we needed a larger car and from what I can discover, this one seems to combine all our requirements. Of course, if you would prefer something else?’
She shook her head. ‘No…no, of course not.’
‘It’s ours?’ David was wide-eyed with excitement. ‘Come on, Alex,’ he instructed his sister, ‘let’s go and have a look at it.’
In the end all four of them went back outside, the children enthusing over the car whilst Sophy admired it in stunned silence. She was pleased to see that it was fitted with rear seat belts for the children. When she got inside she found it both luxurious and well equipped. At David’s insistence they went for a short drive although she was not familiar enough with the car’s automatic gears and power steering system to take them very far.
‘Jon, it’s…it’s very generous of you,’ she said haltingly when they got back. The words seemed to stick in her throat, her earlier accusations lying painfully on her conscience. She wanted desperately to call back those earlier ugly words, but found she could not do so in front of the children, and it still tormented her that Jon might actually have believed Chris’s lies.
Supper was an uncomfortable, silent meal; even the children, it seemed, were aware of the tension existing between the two adults. Afterwards, when Sophy was supervising their baths, she was shocked when Alex asked her hesitantly, ‘Have you and Uncle Jon quarrelled?’
‘No, of course not,’ she assured the little girl swiftly. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘I’m not sure.’ She screwed her eyes up and then said slowly, ‘P’haps because at tea time it just felt like you had quarrelled…all stiff and sharp somehow.’
‘Well, I promise you we haven’t,’ Sophy reassured her kissing the curly head, feeling guilty because she was the one responsible for the atmosphere Alex had so accurately described.
She had to apologise to Jon, she acknowledged mentally as she tucked both children up in bed, and kissed them good night. She had been wrong to say the things she had to him and then to flounce off in a huff. After all why should she expect him to…to behave like a real husband?
She pressed her fingers to her temples which were throbbing with tension and pain. What had she been hoping for when she ran inside like that? That Jon might follow her…that he might… What?
Telling herself that there was nothing to be achieved by putting off the evil moment she went back downstairs. Jon was in the study. She knocked briefly and then went in, her eyes immediately going to the letter in front of him, recognising it as the one which had arrived from Nassau that morning.
‘This is from Harry Silver,’ he told her. ‘Confirming his visit. He’ll be bringing his wife with him. I thought we might have them here to dinner.’
‘Jon, I must talk to you.’ How stiff and unnatural her voice sounded. She could see Jon frowning and her heartbeat suddenly increased, thudding nervously into her chest wall. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said miserably, ‘and I owe you an apology… I sho
uldn’t have spoken to you the way I did…I was wrong.’
‘Yes, you were,’ he agreed evenly, standing up and coming round the front of the desk. There was a look in his eyes she found hard to recognise, but instinctively she took a step backwards, only to find that Jon was right in front of her. ‘Very wrong,’ he murmured softly reaching out and pulling her into his arms. ‘I’m not a computer, Sophy…and I am capable of feelings. These feelings.’
His mouth moved on hers with unerring instinct, caressing, arousing…seducing her own, she recognised in stunned bewilderment as it parted eagerly responding to the warm exploration of his lips like the thirsty earth soaking up rain. The bruises Chris had inflicted were forgotten, her whole body felt hollow and light, empty of everything but the sensation of Jon’s mouth on her own. He was kissing her in a way she had always dreamed of being kissed, she acknowledged hazily, with an expertise and knowledge she had never imagined he would own. Immediately she tensed but Jon wouldn’t let her go.
‘Oh, no,’ he whispered, transferring his mouth from her lips to her ear. ‘You don’t get out of this so easily, Sophy.’ One hand left her body to cup her face, firmly but without the pain Chris had inflicted on her.
He had removed his glasses and this close to, his eyes were an unbelievable blue…not sapphire and not navy but something in between, she thought hazily, unable to tear her own away from them. Jon was still speaking and it took several seconds for her to register the words.
‘After all,’ he said silkily, ‘wasn’t it this you wanted when you lashed out at me earlier?’
Instantly she felt sick and shaken. Did he honestly believe that of her; that she had deliberately tried to incite him to…to this?
She shook her head, the bitter denial bursting from her throat before she could silence it.
For a second he said nothing, then she felt his hold slacken slightly, his eyes shuttered as he released her and stepped slightly away. Immediately she shivered, feeling bereft…aching for the warmth of his arms around her once more.