by Sara Craven
Silas kissed her with long, slow, wonderful kisses, and his hands strayed behind her, to hold and caress her back, her waist, her buttocks.
When his searching hands found their way beneath her nightdress, and those warm caressing fingers touched her naked buttocks, and he intimately pulled her to him, Colly thought she would faint.
She kissed him because she needed to. But her nightdress was all at once a hindrance. ‘Do we need this?’ Silas asked softly, his fingers on the thin cotton, her only covering.
And belatedly modesty—she could only afterwards suppose because she was as near naked as made no difference—suddenly woke up with a vengeance.
‘No—I mean, yes.’
She did not know what she meant, other than that the idea of standing totally unclothed before him was completely alien to her—she just could not do it. This was all new ground to her, and love him quite desperately though she did, want him quite desperately as she did, there was just something in her that screamed out no. Perhaps it was something in her upbringing, some shyness at being the way she was with a man for the first time in her life. She just did not know.
But, ‘No, I can’t,’ she said, panicking, swallowing hard, the idea of standing naked in front of Silas an entire anathema to her.
Silas, his skin slightly flushed—so she guessed her own face must be on fire—stared disbelievingly at her. ‘You don’t want to make love with me?’ he questioned throatily, his hands falling away as he put some space between their two bodies, his eyes searching hers as he stepped back.
She did not mean that at all! Her whole body was throbbing with her need for him. But suddenly, despite the intimacy they had been sharing, and maybe because Silas had stepped back and was no longer touching her, she all at once hit a hard impenetrable wall of that belated and unwanted modesty. She just could not find the words to tell him, Yes, I need you, yes, I want you, please take me.
Dumbly she shook her head. Confusion? She was drowning in it. So why did her voice sound so composed, so apart, when, after taking a step to one side, ‘Had you finished with the bathroom?’ she heard a female stranger enquire.
She risked a glance at Silas. He was looking as if he could not believe it either. But there was no way he was going to force himself on her. He took another step away from her. ‘My stars, you’re a cool one!’ he gritted.
Cool? If only he knew. ‘I’ll take that as a yes, then, shall I?’ the female stranger asked. Colly went while she could, lest she should throw her arms around him and beg him to understand that no man had ever seen her naked, that while she was not ashamed of her body she seemed to have a hang-up about nudity.
They were silent on the journey back to London. Colly had plenty to think about, and Silas appeared to have much on his mind. Work, most likely, she assumed, quite certain that a man of his sophistication would not bother to dwell on what had happened between them.
She did not want to dwell on it either. She had stayed in the bathroom for a positive age after she had left him. He had not stayed around, though, and hadn’t been in the bedroom when she’d eventually gone in. What, after all, had there been to stay around for? They had shared a few heady moments—heady—understatement of the year—but he had not tried to stop her when, misunderstanding her, ‘No, I can’t,’ he had let her go.
Something she realised he must now be more than pleased about. He had not the smallest wish to cement their marriage, and was probably at this very moment thanking his lucky stars that when desire had sparked, though he had initially only meant to comfort her, she—so he had thought—had called a halt.
Well, she was glad too, she thought sniffily, because to make love with each other just was not in their contract. Oh, stop thinking about it, do.
‘Are you all right?’ The terse question cut through the strained atmosphere in the car.
Big of him to ask! No, she was not all right. Far from it. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ she enquired, her voice proudly offhand.
Silence settled in the car once more. She supposed he looked as grim as he sounded, but it was for sure she was not going to look at him to find out.
‘I’ll take half the blame if you’ll take the other half,’ he offered grimly.
‘That’s the least you can do!’ she retorted, and, just so he should know, ‘And if you don’t mind I’d prefer not to discuss it.’ She could feel herself getting all hot and bothered even before they went any further.
A grunt was her answer. Good. She switched her thoughts back to how she had discovered an unknown talent for acting when she had finally gone down the stairs to join Silas and his grandfather. Or maybe it had been just good manners in front of the elderly gentleman. But somehow or other over the next few hours she had managed to chat and smile with both men as though nothing out of the ordinary had so recently taken place in her life.
And when, shortly after lunch, Silas had said they should be on their way, and his grandfather had come out to the car with them and had commented, ‘It has done my heart good to see you, Colly,’ it had seemed natural that they should hold hands and kiss cheeks. Just as Silas had started up the car, ‘Come again, soon,’ he had urged.
If she had anything to do with it, that would never happen.
‘Thank you for coming with me,’ Silas said formally when he’d parked outside the apartment block and they got out of the car.
I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, she thought acidly. ‘That’s all right,’ she muttered, and felt as fed-up as Silas sounded.
‘I’ll bring your bag in.’
No way! She’d had one close encounter with him. She did not want him in her sitting room, where they might exchange verbal fisticuffs. ‘No need!’ she answered sharply. And, feeling close to tears suddenly, ‘See you!’ she mumbled. Taking her overnight bag, she went quickly from him before he should tell her, Not if I see you first.
She went to bed that night with her spirits at rock bottom. And, after a dreadful for the most part sleepless night, got out of bed on Monday morning with her spirits still down on the floor.
The situation, she felt, was hopeless. She and Silas could not have a proper marriage even should she want one—and it was for definite that he didn’t—so what was the point of them staying married?
Well, she did not have to think about that very deeply. She knew the answer to that one. But from where she was viewing it, to get divorced from each other would suit her quite well. Were they divorced then it would put an end to his parents inviting them to dinner and other family functions—which she could see might well crop up. And while Colly had truly liked Silas’s parents, and while she would have loved to be a part of Silas’s family, how could she be?
Look what had happened at the weekend? ‘Come again, soon,’ Grandfather Livingstone had urged when they were leaving. How could she go back there again with Silas?
She could not. Remembering how everything had got out of hand—to make love had never been in their agreement—Colly knew she dared not risk that again. Yet for how long could Silas stall his parents, his grandfather?
But, when to divorce seemed to be the only answer, Colly knew that she could not divorce Silas unless she wanted his feckless cousin to ultimately be in charge of Livingstone Developments and thereby ruin the work of three generations of Livingstones.
Colly knew she could not do that to Silas. She wished that she did not love him so much, and knew then that she should never have married him. But she also knew that she was glad she had known him. When all was said and done, he had never asked her to fall in love with him. And after the short way he had been with her on the drive home it was obvious he would be totally appalled at any such idea of them being any closer than they were. He did not want that sort of involvement.
The day dragged wearily on, with every hour seeming like ten. But, to show that she was not the only one in low spirits, Rupert Thomas phoned her around five that afternoon and sounded really out of sorts.
Colly had been
tempted not to answer the phone when it rang. But it was then that common sense, pure and simple, stepped in to scornfully prod. Did she really think that after the dozen or so unfriendly words she and Silas had exchanged on the drive home it might be him calling for a chat? Get real!
‘What are you doing tonight?’ Rupert asked, his tone glum.
He’d been dumped again? ‘Nothing in particular,’ she replied, realising that tomorrow she was going to have to hide her own feelings while she listened, chapter and verse, to Rupert’s latest tragedy.
‘Can you have dinner with me?’ he wanted to know.
She’d had dinner with him before—he was good company when he was up. ‘Any particular reason?’ she enquired. He was a pain when he was down, but he was a friend.
‘You’ll never believe it!’ he launched in at her invitation. ‘That wretched Averil Dennis has given me the elbow!’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Colly sympathised, and for the next five minutes listened to a catalogue of the said Averil’s faults.
‘I badly need someone to talk to,’ Rupert said as he came to an end. ‘Say you’ll have dinner with me?’
Colly was about to remind him that she would be seeing him at the gallery tomorrow, when he would be able to talk his little cotton socks off, but abruptly, before she could say a word, changed her mind. What are you doing tonight? he had asked. Well, she wasn’t doing anything tonight. Nor was she doing anything tomorrow night, or the night after that, nor, for that matter, any night in the foreseeable future. And it just was not good enough!
‘I’d love to have dinner with you, Rupert,’ she answered. And, forcing a bright note, ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, determined to rise above her down feeling. ‘The White Flamingo?’ It was one of his favourite haunts.
‘Hmm—I thought I’d take you somewhere a bit more upmarket than that,’ he replied. ‘Averil introduced me to this place. I’ll pick you up about seven.’
‘I’ll be ready.’ Colly guessed that Rupert was half hoping that Averil would be dining at that establishment, so he could either stick his nose in the air and ignore her—or introduce her to Averil as though she were his latest.
Colly did not mind. Rupert had lived and enjoyed a hard life, and though he was forty looked fifty, but he was harmless, and most of the time quite amusing, and besides, she was fond of him.
He was on time, and it was all Averil from the word go. He plainly had not read of her marriage to Silas, Colly realised, and realised too that, with the heartless Averil taking up central position in his head, he most likely would not have commented on it even if he had known.
Whether or not he knew of her marriage, however, suddenly became irrelevant. Because as Rupert drove on Colly was all at once filled with a feeling of apprehension. She had to be wrong. She had to! But, if she were not wrong, Rupert was heading for the same hotel where she had dined with Silas that night he had made that amazing suggestion that they marry!
‘Rupert, I—’ broke from her urgently when he halted his car at the hotel. But he was getting in a fluster over a parking space that someone else was trying to grab, and either did not hear her or assumed she was taking him to task for being so bullish.
She calmed down. What did it matter? This hotel might have a favourite dining room for Averil, but it did not necessarily follow that it was a favourite for Silas too. For goodness’ sake, there were dozens of restaurants in London! What about that restaurant Tony Andrews had taken her to that night Silas had come up to their table? Perhaps that was his favourite eating establishment.
Telling herself not to be ridiculous, Colly nevertheless scanned the dining room as she and Rupert went in. Then she realised that Rupert had been doing the same thing, though in his case he seemed disappointed that the object of his search was not dining there that night. For herself, Colly could not have said how she felt. She did not want to eat here. She knew well how idiotic she was being, but to her it was their place, hers and Silas’s.
She was all tensed up, she knew that, and as it was relatively early she supposed Silas could still walk in—but did she want to see him again? Oh, to blazes with it—she positively ached to see him again.
‘So I drove her home…’ Rupert was saying. Colly tried to concentrate. ‘…and accidentally…’ She was sitting where she could see the dining room door. It opened, and a tall dark-haired man came in; her heart thundered, then quietened. It was not Silas. ‘…think about that?’ Rupert ended.
‘Er—unfortunate,’ Colly attempted.
And discovered she had said the right thing when Rupert took up, ‘I’ll say it was unfortunate! Averil swore I did it on purpose, but I…’
And so it went on through dinner. Colly tried not to look at the door every two minutes, and was glad to find she needed to make very little input as Rupert warmed to his ‘heartless Averil’ theme.
‘…had enough?’ he asked.
Colly felt out on a limb again, and hoped he was asking if she’d had sufficient to eat. ‘That was a super meal,’ she replied.
‘We’ll have coffee in the lounge, shall we?’ he asked.
The lounge—where she and Silas had drunk coffee that night…Oh, Silas.
Not waiting for her answer, Rupert stood up. It was still early, not yet nine o’clock, but as they made their way to the lounge area so Colly felt she would much prefer to go home.
Less than a minute later she was wishing that she had said as much. Because as she and Rupert entered the lounge, so her eyes were immediately drawn to a good-looking dark-haired man seated, coffee-cups on the table before him, in deep conversation with a most attractive blonde!
Silas! Colly’s spirits rapidly rose—only to hit the floor with an almighty crash. She had spent a good part of the evening watching every tall male who had come through the dining room door, whereas Silas was so engrossed with his coffeedrinking companion that he did not even look up when the lounge door opened.
Though even as a sick feeling battered Colly, and jealousy seared every part of her, Silas did take a moment to glance away from the blonde. His eyes met Colly’s. She saw his glance go to her companion—he did not look too well pleased. All in less than two seconds, as he started to rise, so Colly was turning about and whispering to Rupert, ‘I need to get out of here!’
She went speedily, and Rupert, to his credit, did not argue but followed her out. ‘Feeling queasy?’ he asked as he followed her to where he had parked his car.
Colly was too churned up to tell anything but the truth. ‘I’ve just seen someone I don’t want to see,’ she said, though she wondered, as green barbs still pierced her, if it was not so much Silas she did not want to see, but Silas with another woman.
‘Oh, I know that picture,’ Rupert replied, and, as if fully understanding, ‘Let’s get going.’
Colly tried to remember her manners as Rupert drew up outside the apartment block. She had done him out of his coffee, and knew she should invite him in so she should make him a cup. But somehow she had not got the heart.
‘Thank you for a lovely dinner,’ she said instead, glad that Rupert had settled the account for their meal in the dining room, rather than leave it until after they’d had their coffee.
‘It was good, wasn’t it?’ he replied, the defecting Averil having in no way affected his appetite, and, as Colly went to leave his car, ‘See you tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait here until you get inside.’
Colly opened the outer door, turned and waved to him, and then went to the apartment. And she had thought she had been down before! She tried desperately hard to raise her spirits, but all she could see was Silas, deep in conversation with the pretty blonde.
Perhaps he was asking her to be wife number two, Colly thought with sour humour. But this was not a laughing matter. She hated feeling the way she did, and she hated him that he could make her feel that way.
She went and had a shower and got ready for bed. But sleep was light years away, so she returned to the sitting room—
just as the phone started to ring.
Silas? As if! He’d got better things to do than remember he had a wife, she fumed sniffily. Rupert, then? Was she in the mood for more ‘What Averil did’? Don’t be mean. Rupert could not help it if he had a penchant for women who usually got their goodbyes in first.
She picked up the phone. ‘Does he know you’re not in line for a sugar-daddy?’ Silas snarled grittily.
Shock, pleasure and hate fought for precedence. Jealousy romped in and flattened them all. ‘Still keeping to your wedding vows, Livingstone?’ she flew, and immediately wanted to bite out her tongue. Had she sounded jealous? Had Silas, shrewd, clever Silas, picked up that jealous tone? she wondered fearfully.
Whatever, there was a definite pause—but only so he could control his irritation with her, she quickly realised, when evenly, coolly, he had the nerve to ask, ‘I wonder, Colly, if you’d care to have dinner with me tomorrow?’
And that made her mad! Furious! She just could not believe it! Only a little over an hour ago, definitely not more than that, he had been in deep conversation with a blonde! He was probably still with the blonde, Colly fumed, and that thought caused her fury to soar to volcanic proportions. Had he just excused himself from her to make this phone call? Was he still in that hotel with his blonde?
Vesuvius blew. ‘Dinner!’ Colly exploded. ‘I was thinking more of divorcing you than dining with you!’ With that she slammed down the phone—and promptly burst into tears.
CHAPTER NINE
COLLY was at once ashamed. She dried her eyes and wondered where all that bad temper had come from. Oh, how could she have been so awful to Silas? She had never used to have such a temper.
She sighed as she realised that her emotions had been having a fine old time with her just recently. Well, ever since she had met Silas, in actual fact.
Although, on reflection, perhaps to some extent she had stepped on the roller-coaster of emotional upheaval starting with the shock at the unexpected death of her father.