by Sara Craven
So she ate, while barely knowing what she ate. And she chatted and responded cheerfully to any comment Tony made. But, oh, how she heartily wished that the evening were over.
She knew that she was not going to completely relax until Silas and his party had gone. But she had struggled through to the dessert stage of her meal before she glimpsed some of the people Silas had been with making their way to the exit.
She determined to keep her eyes fixed either on her plate or Tony. She might want to look her fill at Silas, but, on the rarest chance he might cast a glance over to her, he would not find her looking at him again.
‘Hello, Colly.’
So much for her decision not to look at him. She looked up, realising that Silas must have left the people he had been with to come and stand right next to her. But while her heart pounded, and before she could find her voice, he, to her astonishment, did no more than bend down and kiss her cheek in greeting!
Feeling too stunned to be able to think, let alone think straight, ‘Hello,’ was all she was capable of mumbling.
Silas was not a bit fazed. ‘How have you been?’ he asked pleasantly.
Since the last time he had seen her—when she had run from his bed? ‘Er—busy,’ she answered.
‘Busy?’ he queried, quite well aware that she now worked only one day a week.
‘The house is being sold,’ she replied, guessing he would know she meant her old home. ‘I’m spending a lot of time there—er—clearing up.’
Plainly he was bored with such detail. She saw his glance go to her dinner companion. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’ he enquired.
It passed her by totally that he was upbraiding her for her lack of manners; she was still feeling flabbergasted that not only had he come over to their table, but he had actually kissed her.
By this time Tony was on his feet. ‘Tony Andrews,’ he introduced himself.
‘Silas Livingstone,’ Silas supplied, and the two shook hands.
She saw Tony register that Silas was the Silas Livingstone of Livingstone Developments, and realised that with Tony being in public relations perhaps it was part and parcel of his job to know who anybody was. But at last she found her voice, to quickly butt in, ‘You’re well again now, Silas?’
Both men turned to her. ‘Thanks to your—personal—nursing,’ Silas replied smoothly. And she wondered how she could love him so much yet at one and the same time want to punch his head. All too obviously that ‘personal’ was a reference to the way she had lain with him when he’d had the shivers.
‘I didn’t know you included nursing in your many other talents?’ Tony queried, sounding curious. She wondered which hat he was wearing: his PR hat, where he soaked up any useful snippet, or if it was just idle interest.
‘I should have been lost without Colly there to keep me warm,’ Silas answered before she could reply.
She stared at him, stupefied. ‘Silas had a fever. You may have read about it.’ She smiled at Tony while at the same time speculating if it would cause very much of a scene if right there and then she handbagged this man she was married to. ‘I should think you’ll consider it very carefully before you venture to the tropics again.’ She smiled at Silas.
He looked her straight in the eyes. ‘It had its compensations,’ he murmured, nodded to Tony—and went to rejoin his party.
‘I didn’t know you knew Silas Livingstone?’ Tony questioned the moment he was out of earshot.
‘He knew my father,’ she replied. ‘My father was in engineering too.’
‘So that’s how you know him,’ Tony documented. ‘Um—you sound very well acquainted?’
‘I was at a loose end when he was sick,’ she explained, as though casually. ‘I haven’t seen him in ages. How’s your mother?’
Tony took the hint. Then took her home. And, she was glad to note, was on his best behaviour. Though whether that was because he was remembering the last time he had brought her home, and the ages it had been before she’d agreed to go out with him again, she did not know. Or maybe he was just trying another tack. Or maybe, she mused, he had just gone off her.
Colly had proof that Tony Andrews had not gone off her when the very next evening he rang, ostensibly for a chat, but in actual fact to see how she felt about going out with him again.
While she supposed it was flattering to have someone that keen, she had barely finished thanking him for a pleasant evening the night before and thought it was too soon. No way was she looking for a steady boyfriend—though she did not doubt that she was not the only female he asked out.
‘I’m busy with the house just now,’ she excused, having last night explained about her involvement with clearing her old home.
‘But that’s during the day,’ he pointed out.
Colly had no intention of arguing. ‘I’ll call you, Tony,’ she said decisively.
Barely had she put the phone down than it rang a second time. She suspected that it was Tony again, perhaps about to enquire just when he might expect her to ring. She just did not need this, and almost let the phone ring until he got tired. But, against that, she had dined with him last night, and he had behaved himself when he’d brought her home.
She picked up the phone. ‘Hello,’ she said.
‘Who were you talking to?’ asked a voice that set her heartbeats pounding.
‘When?’ she asked, striving to get herself together. Silas!
‘You’ve been on the phone for an age!’ he accused.
‘Well, you know how it is when you’re popular!’
‘Tony Andrews?’
His question sounded like another accusation. ‘Tony,’ she confirmed.
Silence, then, shatteringly, ‘You have remembered you’re married to me?’ Silas demanded.
Her mouth fell open. ‘Get you!’ she exclaimed, stunned. But, recovering fast, and feeling not a little cross at what she thought he was hinting, ‘I haven’t committed adultery, if that’s what you’re asking!’ she flew. And, starting to feel angry that he’d dared to ring to say what he had—this was all too one-sided as far as she was concerned, ‘I trust you can say the same?’ she snapped spiritedly, knowing darn well that he could not.
But, to shatter her further, ‘Believe it or not, I take my vows seriously,’ Silas replied. Her mouth fell open again in shock. Marriage vows, did he mean? She realised that he did—must do. Vows encompassed marriage vows—which must mean that he had not been to bed with anyone since their marriage? Strangely enough, she believed him, and suddenly she was glad he could not see her—she would hate him to see the delighted smile that that information had wrought. She tried for something either witty or sharp to say, but found she was stunned into silence, until, ‘Have dinner with me?’ Silas invited.
‘No!’ It did not take any thinking about. Theirs was not a ‘have dinner with me’ relationship. He knew that too. So why was he suggesting it? ‘Why?’ she asked bluntly, suspiciously.
There was a pause, then—and she was sure she heard a smile in his voice—‘I might have a proposition to put to you,’ he hinted.
Yes, yes, yes. He had proposed they marry. He had also proposed she go and stay at his apartment for a few nights—and look what had happened. ‘I’ve had some of your propositions!’ she retorted sharply, and, knowing that the yes, yes, yes part of her was within an ace of taking over, she promptly slammed down the phone.
No sooner was it done than Colly regretted doing so. But she went to bed smiling and knowing that she loved Silas more than ever. Which seemed to make it a good idea to keep well away from the man. But, oh, how she would dearly love to have dinner with him.
Silas did not ring again. She did not expect him to. That did not stop her heartbeats from racing, though, on the few times when the phone did ring. She wondered why he had phoned at all, and doubted that he’d had any proposition to put to her, or that he had telephoned with the sole purpose of asking her to have dinner with him. Which meant, then, that he must have rung only
to remind her that she was married to him.
She would have liked to get excited at how possessive that ‘You have remembered you’re married to me?’ had sounded. But in reality she knew that Silas, perhaps thinking that she and Tony were closer than they were, had only phoned to remind her that their marriage was secret and that there was an unwritten ‘no immediate divorce’ clause to it.
It was a lovely June morning when Colly looked out of her window at the bright sunlight—and felt that life seemed somehow to be unutterably dull. She had not seen or heard from Silas in weeks.
She reminded herself that theirs was supposed to be a non-communications type of marriage, and tried to count her blessings. Nanette was currently away, holidaying with ‘a friend’, and the house was in the process of being sold; once all the legal work had been completed she’d no longer need to have any contact with her.
Tony Andrews was still asking her out. He’d obviously decided not to wait for her call and frequently phoned her. She still worked every Tuesday at the gallery—and Rupert was still bending her ear with the tragedy of his love-life.
And that was the crux of the matter. The reason why she felt so down. She did not crave a love-life; she just craved to see Silas. But he never got in touch, and he would think it mightily peculiar if, for no especial reason, she took it upon herself to contact him.
Colly gave herself a short sharp lecture on how she was going to beat this thing. She was not, not, not going to let her feelings for Silas ruin her life. Maybe when she had started that foundation course she would meet other people, get to know other people, let her life take a new direction.
But for now she was going to start a new life—with the people she knew. She rang Tony Andrews. ‘Colly!’ he exclaimed, sounding pleased to hear her.
Already she was regretting what she was about. But that was not the way it was supposed to go. ‘I wondered if you’d like to have dinner with me?’ she invited.
‘Would I ever!’ he accepted eagerly. ‘At your apartment, do you mean?’
No, she had not meant that at all. But she hesitated—get a life. ‘If that’s all right with you,’ she answered. ‘We can eat out if you prefer…’
‘I’ll bring a bottle. What time?’
He thought she meant tonight! Colly was about to put him off when her new-found self asserted itself. Why was she dithering? What better than to start her new life now? Tonight? This very Monday? What was there to wait for?
‘We could eat about eight?’ she suggested.
‘I’ll be there at seven-thirty,’ he accepted readily.
Colly was still squashing down that part of her that was not too happy about having Tony in the apartment when, punctually at seven-thirty, bottle of wine in hand, he arrived.
It was the first time she had entertained in the apartment, and as the evening wore on so she began to lose any small feeling of apprehension; the evening seemed to be going rather well. Tony appeared impressed with her cooking—though she did confess that the stilton and celery soup was not home-made, but came from the delicatessen.
The rest of the meal was home-made, though, and it pleased her to see Tony tucking in. He seemed thoroughly relaxed, and that made her feel relaxed too. She thought she had got to know him quite well over these past months of phone calls and his visits to the gallery. But she knew she would never regard him as more than a friend.
Something she rather belatedly realised he had not taken on board when, insisting despite her protests that he wanted to help her with the dishwashing, and taking no heed of her, ‘Honestly, I’d much prefer to do it later when you’ve gone,’ he carried their dessert plates out to the kitchen and started to run the hot water.
‘Let me try my hand at being domesticated,’ he requested, giving her his most charming smile.
Perhaps she was too intense. To her way of thinking he was a guest, and this was his first meal in her home. Should there be subsequent meals, then perhaps to let him clear away might be in order, but…
‘If you’re sure.’ She gave in, and took over at the sink. But only to grow immediately uptight when he passed behind her and she felt him drop a kiss on the back of her neck.
Instinctively she took a sudsy hand out from the dishwashing water to wipe his kiss away. ‘Now look what you’ve done,’ he teased, and, taking up a hand towel, he stepped closer and dabbed at her damp nape.
‘That’s fine. Thank you,’ Colly said as lightly as she could, half turning, her instincts suddenly on the alert as she took a step back from him. She at once came up against the kitchen sink—Tony moved in closer.
He took the towel and dried her hands. ‘You’re beautiful—you know that, don’t you?’ he said, to her amazement his tone suddenly gone all seductive. She was still staring at him mesmerised when he reached out and took her in his arms.
‘This—isn’t getting the washing up done,’ she reminded him, staying the polite hostess.
‘We can, as you suggested, do it later,’ he replied, and kissed her.
Colly felt a soul in torment. She wanted a life, had to have a life without Silas. But the wretched truth was there undeniably before her—she did not want anyone’s kisses but his.
‘You can do better than that, can’t you?’ Tony coaxed—and she wondered if she was being fair to him, fair to herself?
‘Of course,’ she replied, and tried. She put her arms around him and offered him her lips. But he was alien to hold, his lips alien. It will get better, she attempted to tell herself, in despair about the new life she was going to make for herself if only she could put some kind of effort into it.
He came closer, pressing her against the sink. She tried hard to keep calm, to respond; did she really want to do this? She was wedged in between him and the sink with no way out when he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her into him.
She pushed him away and knew then that, new life or no new life, she would much rather do the washing up. ‘Er—I think…’ was as far as she got before Tony grabbed her and clamped his moist mouth over hers, his body pressing into her while his hands moved up, seeking her breasts. ‘No!’ she yelled, and, giving him a push, meant it.
He knew she meant it too. It was there in her tone, her look, her stance. ‘Why not?’ he argued. ‘Hell’s bells, I’ve given you miles of rope to get you to this pitch. You invite me to dinner and then…’ He grinned suddenly—she saw it as a leer—‘You still playing hard to get, Colly?’ he questioned, and made another grab for her.
She was determined not to panic, but knew she was losing it when, forcefully, she ordered, ‘No!’
‘Oh, come on.’ He made another lunge for her.
‘No!’ she said again.
‘Why not?’ he repeated, a wheedling kind of note there in his voice. ‘What’s to stop us? I’m unattached. You’re free and…’ he leered again ‘…I’m sure I could make you willing. Relax, sweetie,’ he pressed, his breath hot against her face, and in the next moment he had fastened his lips on hers again.
Her agitation was growing as again she pushed him wildly away, while wondering at the same time how, when she now felt revolted by his kisses, she had allowed him to kiss her in the first place. And suddenly, her composure shot when he would not take his wet mouth from hers, she gave him another shove, and, picking up on what he had just said, cried, ‘I’m not free!’
That seemed to stop him in his tracks. He stared incredulously at her. ‘You’re—engaged—married?’ he asked in disbelief.
Oh, Lord, her head was spinning. She did not know where the devil she was. All she could think then was that no one must know about her marriage. Panic set in with a vengeance. ‘We’re getting divorced!’ It was out before she could stop it.
Tony heard what she had said, for all she had gabbled it out in a panicky rush, and sifted through what she had just told him. ‘So where’s the problem?’ he came back, without so much as a blink. But even as he went to make a grab for her again, so part of his brain appeared to be
putting two and two together. ‘Where’s your husband?’ he asked, and, more pertinently, ‘Who is your husband?’ he prodded further. And, his two and two swiftly adding up to a correct four, before she could halt him, ‘Silas Livingstone!’ he exclaimed, sounding staggered, though still able to replay in his mind that time when Silas Livingstone had revealed that she had ‘personally’ nursed him when he had been ill. How she had been there to keep him warm. ‘You’re married to Silas Livingstone!’ he concluded, and, as if shaken anew, he actually took a step back.
Colly wanted to repeat that they were getting divorced—but suddenly a whole welter of complications were crashing in. She immediately wanted to deny that she and Silas were married at all. And from there at once grew terrified that any other panic-stricken comment she might make would see her saying something else to Tony that could lead just about anywhere.
Without another word she went smartly from the kitchen. Tony followed. ‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ he questioned, but seemed to know it for a fact.
‘I—think you’d better go, Tony,’ she replied, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
‘That’s a bit steep, isn’t it?’ he complained. ‘You invite me for an intimate dinner…’
Intimate dinner! Was that the way he had read her invitation? She shook her head. ‘I’ve enjoyed your company,’ she told him—which, up to a point, she had. ‘But I never intended it to be more than dinner.’
‘I don’t suppose your husband would approve,’ Tony, his tone changing, offered sourly. There wasn’t any possible answer to that. So she just stood her ground. After a few belligerent moments, ‘Don’t call me—I’ll call you,’ he said huffily. Colly went and opened the door for him. Seriously annoyed, he took the none-too-subtle hint.
She closed the door after him, reeling. What had she done? Just what…? It all played back horribly in her head. ‘Silas Livingstone!’ he had guessed. ‘We’re getting divorced,’ she had lied. Oh, save us!
In need of something to do, Colly went to the kitchen and carried on with the dishes from where she had left off. But her head was spinning even more when the used dishes had been washed, dried and put away, and the kitchen once more immaculate. Because by then she had recalled that Tony Andrews worked in public relations, and, from conversations she’d had with him, she had also recalled that he seemed well acquainted with people in the news media.