Dishonest woman

by Jessica Steele

  `It—sounds like a good idea to me,' she said. She was smiling as they left the Swan. She was going home to Bramcote, and it was all hers.

  It was when they reached Bramcote that the joy within her took a dip. She stood with Slade, about to lead the way in, then watched when he walked from her and to the boot of the car. The suitcase he extracted was sizeable, causing her to bite her lip on the thought that sped in—how long was he staying? How long before he got tired of her?

  They walked into the house together. 'Going to show me where I can deposit this?' Slade asked, when in the hall she hesitated, wondering if she could delay the moment by making a cup of tea or something.

  `Of course,' she said, and went to the foot of the stairs, her insides churning that she hadn't had the nerve to prepare a room for him as far distant from her own as possible.

  She opened the door of her bedroom, looked quickly away from him as she saw his eyes take in the faded wallpaper, her double bed.

  `There's a bathroom here,' she said in a rush, indicating another door in the room, not surprised to see

  her hand was shaking. It was the way she felt all over. `And,' she went forward to the dressing room door, searching for every ounce of tact, 'I—er—thought, since I'm—er—such a very restless sleeper, you might prefer—to—er—sleep in here.' Not daring to look at him—his silence was ominous, she thought, trying not to get panicky—she gabbled on. 'My wardrobes are full—th-they're empty in there.'

  She stood aside as, without a word, Slade brushed past her, slinging his case inside. Still without a word he shrugged out of his jacket. When his tie came off and he began to unbutton his shirt, Kimberley moved.

  He had said something about a walk, about changing before they went out, she recalled, hanging on to that thought as she scooped up jeans and a shirt and shut herself away in the bathroom. She made no attempt to change as she tried to come to terms with the fact that, much as she wanted her marriage to end right here, she owed something to Slade, and had . a very clear feeling that he was just not the sort of man to let her get away with less than what he had temporarily given up his freedom for.

  She took several deep steadying breaths, then started to get out of her wedding finery. She caught a glimpse of her tense looking face in a mirror, and avoided looking in the mirror again.

  She thought she had mastered the panic that had threatened to consume her when she had bolted into the bathroom. But one look at the set expression on Slade's face when she emerged and found him in her bedroom was enough to have her insides acting up again.

  `I think,' he said, his eyes steady on hers, 'that it's about time I evened up accounts.'

  `Evened up accounts?' she queried, her voice husky; she had no idea what he meant, but she was wary of him.

  He moved, came forward, not once taking his eyes

  from her face. 'You're one kiss up on me since our marriage,' he said quietly, and the next thing she knew, he had reached for her, and she was in his arms.

  His head came nearer, and she just knew he had forgotten all about his suggestion that they should take a walk. 'Not yet,' shot from her before his mouth could touch hers. Wild emotions were raging in her. This was all wrong. It should be David, not him.

  She saw Slade didn't like her refusing even to kiss him. But his tone was even, still that same quiet voice, as he told her:

  `I'm not suggesting bed, so you can stop trembling. I received the message you're transmitting some time ago.' She wasn't sure she dared relax, dared believe what he was saying. And then he smiled. 'But you can't blame me, dear wife, for wanting a short skirmish on the outskirts of our marriage consummation.'

  With that his head came forward, and gently his lips claimed hers.

  Perhaps she did begin to relax, did believe him when *he had said this wasn't the time when he would take her. His words, plus the fact that guilt was prodding her that she wasn't playing fair, nbw Bramcote was hers, when Slade broke his kiss and looked at her, still holding her in his arms, made Kimberley smile.

  `I think I'm a bit screwed up,' she confessed, then put her hands on his shoulders so he should know she was doing her best to play by the rules.

  His answer was to kiss her again, his kiss warmer this time. Kimberley ignored the flutter of panic, remembered the talking to she had given herself in the bathroom. He wasn't David, never would be. No one could take David's place. But she owed Slade.

  She kissed him back—and to her surprise found it more pleasurable to be a participator than she had thought. Her arms moved round his broad shoulders and his kiss deepened. He groaned softly and drew back, and Kimberley smiled. Everything was going to

  be all right, she knew it was.

  His eyes appeared so dark as to be navy the moment before he kissed her again. She felt his hands at the back of her, gently caressing, then felt them -move to her hips—and was disquieted. When he pulled her forward, pressing her against his lean hardness, the illusion that everything was going to be all right promptly faded.

  `No,' she said, and was pushing at him.

  Slade let her go, his jaw square, an aggressive look to him. She thought she was in for a few not so pleasant words, then discovered she was still nowhere near to knowing anything about the man she had married.

  `Let's walk,' he said brusquely.

  They had walked, with Kimberley giving herself another pep talk. She had cooked dinner, deciding that nothing else mattered now that she was secure in the knowledge that she didn't have to leave her home.

  But as darkness fell she began to get edgy again— half of her wanting her marriage consummated, to have it all over and done with, the other half of her finding it shameful that she could think to betray the love she felt for David in such a manner.

  Slade had not attempted to kiss her since that heated few minutes up in her room, though he had put an arm about her as though he was about to while they had been washing up after their meal. But she had jumped, the arm around her was unexpected, and his kiss had never happened as silently- he had picked up another plate and begun to dry it.

  It was half past ten when the tape they were listening to came to an end. 'I'm going to have a bath,' Kimberley said into the stillness.

  `I'll join you presently,' said Slade, and at what she saw as a threat in his words, it was all she could do to force a smile as he stood up and she hurriedly left the

  MOM.

  She had come to terms with herself again by the

  time her bath was over. She had Bramcote, she owed him, she repeated over and over again.

  But there was pain in her heart when, keeping the thought that she was in his debt to the front of her, she took one of her nightdresses that had been part of her trousseau and slipped it over her head. Unable to look at the traitor to love she felt herself to be, Kimberley stood away from the mirror as she brushed out her hair.

  She heard footsteps coming along the landing and made a dive for the bed; hurriedly pulling the covers round her, realising she had spent an over-long period in her bath.

  Slade had to come through her bedroom to reach the small dressing room, and she tried to raise a smile as the door opened and she saw him standing there.

  `I haven't used all the hot water,' she said off the top of her head.

  Slade closed the door and approached the bed, his eyes feasting on her glorious silky hair, seeing it down for the first time. 'Your hair is beautiful,' he murmured, his voice sounding as if he couldn't wait to bury himself in it.

  Then while she was thinking that all thoughts of anything save joining her in her bed were lost to him, Slade stood up and asked if the shower was in working order.

  Trying to switch her mind as quickly as he could switch his, she realised that to an outsider the shower unit might look a bit rickety.

  `It takes some time to warm up, but yes, it works,' she said.

  `Since I'm in no mood to take a cold shower,' he smiled, 'will you promise to stay just as you are until I get back?'
<
br />   Kimberley heard the water running, then heard it stop. She switched on the bedside lamp and was wondering about switching off the centre light, when Slade

  o

  came from the bathroom. His eyes stayed on her as, moving to the wall switch, he did the job for her.

  He appeared to be wearing only a towelling robe, she saw, and her heart pounded madly as in the glow from the small lamp he came and sat on the edge of her bed.

  `You look too ethereal to be touched,' he said softly, and Kimberley knew she looked as pale as she felt when seconds ticked away with Slade just sitting there his eyes taking in her every feature. And then, unhurriedly, he had picked up her trembling hand and was raising it to his lips.

  Whether or not the feel of her skin set flame to his chemistry for her, she was too agitated to wonder. But suddenly he had turned her hand over, was planting burning kisses on the inside of her wrist, was kissing her arm. And it was then, with a firm but gentle tug, that he had pulled her until she was in his arms, the smell of his aftershave filling her nostrils as he breathed the possessive words:

  `Kimberley—my wife!'

  Her covering was flimsy. His hands burning into her flesh as his mouth met hers and his hands caressed her naked shoulders.

  She tried hard to participate as she had done before, but this time she didn't have the security of knowing that then they had only been skirmishing on the edge of consummation. This time Slade meant business.

  And something froze inside her, not giving her a chance to experience again the pleasure she had found in his kisses earlier.

  Slade continued to kiss her, his hands caressing while she just hung on, his hands moving to her breasts, sliding the frail chiffon strap from her shoulder and down her arm when her thin covering prevented him from feeling her nakedness.

  She felt his hand warm on her breast and wanted to fight him off; she didn't want his hand there.

  Try to imagine it's David, she found herself thinking—and as that thought penetrated, so too did nausea. Nausea at herself, at the obscenity of her thought, disgust that her honesty before her father's death had been unquestionable. Yet here she was married to Slade and on the way to pretending he was another man, the man she loved.

  `No!' came screaming from her, her face ashen as she pushed at him, scrabbling to the other side of the bed where she could escape him.

  She was off the bed, uncaring that Slade didn't look very lover-like now as he overcame the upset to his plans. Unheeding that he didn't look very pleased at this turn of events, with a distraught hand she pushed her hair back from her face. How could she betray the love she had for David, betray her own standards?

  `I—can't,' she croaked.

  `Can't?' he questioned, a dark look on his face.

  `I—I . . .' Hopelessly Kimberley shook her head. 'I can't,' she repeated, her voice a thin thread of sound as her hands came out as though to ward him off, for all he had not moved.

  But she knew she was right to fear him when he stood and came slowly towards her, hard aggression rearing.

  `You've left it a bit late to discover you can't, haven't you?'

  `I'm sorry—sorry,' she stammered, her eyes imploring him to understand. `I—I know that's the only reason you married me—b-because I—wouldn't before.' She saw his brow move at that, and went on to plead, 'B-but I can't!'

  He had been gentle with her before, but she only then saw just how gentle he had been. For there was nothing but a terrifying hard aggression in him now as he stretched forward and yanked her into his arms.

  `Didn't anyone ever tell you, lovely wife,' he muttered through his teeth, his arms iron bands around

  her, 'that there's no such word as can't?'

  And with that his mouth was on hers, cruel as her teeth ground against her mouth, his hands biting where before they had gently soothed. And Kimberley was fighting. The other way, had Slade remained gentle, who knew, he might have coaxed her into submission— she had found his kisses acceptable before. But this way, his mouth making ravaging sorties on her throat, her breasts, there was no chance of her sense of fairness having a hearing, of her giving in.

  `No!' she screamed wildly, pushing frantically at him, to no avail.

  `No!' he mocked. 'That word isn't in my dictionary either.'

  His mouth captured hers as she struggled to be free. She heard the chiffon of her nightdress tear, and was out of his arms as the sound hit him too and his hold . slackened.

  Her shoulder strap had parted company with the rest of the garment, she saw, as backing around the room she saw his hot gaze on her uncovered breast. Hastily she covered herself up, expecting him to pounce, then saw he was in no hurry, his view from where he was standing being quite satisfactory.

  The word, 'No!' left her again, this time in despair.

  `No!' Slade taunted. 'You should have thought about this side of marriage, dear wife. But you didn't, did you? Your greedy little mind took over, didn't it, blocking out your aversion to be in anyone's arms but the man's who jilted you.'

  Slade Darville knew how to hit, and hit hard. He was right in saying David had jilted her, as grievously as it rocked her to hear him say it. He was right too that she had blocked out her aversion to being in anyone's arms but his. But her panic-stricken mind could make no sense of his accusing her of being greedy. Not unless—unless he had somehow found out about Bramcote!

  `It wasn't greed,' she contradicted hurriedly, when he took a step nearer. 'The house is mine by right.'

  `House?' Her words had halted him. 'What the hell are you talking about?'

  She had stopped him in his tracks, she could see that. 'You know,' she choked. 'Somehow you know.' `Know what?'

  `Why I married you.'

  For a moment she thought Slade was going to question her further, then as his eyes once again roamed her body, the chiffon doing little to hide her contours, she realised he thought she was just dangling a red herring to prevent him from taking what he had given up his freedom for—if only for a very short while.

  He moved again, and she backed, came up against the wardrobe—and had nowhere else to go as with another stride he had hold of her arms.

  `I certainly do know why you married me, my beautiful money-grabbing wife,' he grated. Her eyes widened as his head bent his lips burned on her naked shoulder. 'You tried to give me the brush-off when I introduced myself at the Gilberts' party. But your attitude underwent a miraculous change, didn't it, after Doreen had given you the lowdown on the state of my wealth.'

  His mouth was trailing kisses between the valley of her breasts, when her surprised wavery exclamation of, 'Wealth?' brought his head up.

  `Are you going to deny that it didn't occur to you when you finished the discussion I saw you having with Doreen, your eyes in my direction all the time, that you didn't think you'd have a crack at killing two birds with the one stone?'

  Nowhere near to understanding what he was talking about, his hands bruising her arms as he made sure she didn't escape him a second time, Kimberley just stood and stared. -

  'Such a picture of wide-eyed innocence,' he sneered.

  `It never crossed your mind, did it, to have yourself a rich husband?'

  `Rich husband?' He was as good as broke, she knew he was.

  `You're going to say you had no idea?' he mocked. `That you never for an instant thought to get your own back on all men by withholding from me your—marriage favours?'

  `No, no,' she protested, still not believing he was as wealthy as he was intimating. And, shaking her head, `Doreen didn't tell me anything about you except— except that you have no use for a permanent—relationship.'

  He wasn't, believing her, she could see that, though he did not deny that he preferred only temporary relationships. 'She didn't tell. you either, that apart from money I inherited, I head a not unsuccessful stockbroking business?' he enquired sarcastically.

  `No,' she said straight away.

  And as she recalled the elegant car he had d
riven that day, she was aghast as the thought hurtled in that she had pegged him wrong at that party. If he wasn't one of Doreen's waifs and strays then—then he had to be a friend of Edwrd, Doreen's banker husband!

  But even while that incredible thought was sinking in, she was trying to convince him.. 'I didn't know, honestly,' she said—and had to suffer his cynical look that he wasn't believing she could be honest about anything. 'You s-said—when I mentioned your work—that you were resting. I thought you were an out-of-work actor.'

  `Actor? My God, I must be better at it than I thought,' he said obscurely. Then before she knew what to make of that, his arms were encircling her and she knew he had had enough of talking; action was what he was after. 'I didn't plan to spend this night in verbal discussion,' he said, putting an end to it. 'We'll have plenty of time to talk this out in the morning.'

  His ardour had cooled during their conversation, she thought. But that inflamed look of desire was there in his eyes again as he drew her finely clad body up against him.

  A violent shaking began inside Kimberley when she felt the heat of him as his hard body pressed her against the wardrobe. The uncontrollable shaking was too wild not to be felt by him, she knew, as tears welled to her eyes and he pulled back so he could look at her. She could protest from now until Doomsday and he would still be set on his course, she thought, as, unable to keep still, speechlessly, she looked back at him with luminous large eyes.

  A tear spilled over and rolled down her cheek. Silently a tear fell from her other eye„ She knew from the look of him that Slade would be blind to her tears as he had been deaf to her protests. A paroxysm of shuddering took her as his head neared, his mouth half way to possessing hers.

  Apart from the shaking that wouldn't leave her, Kimberley stayed still, no longer trying to escape when his cry of, 'Oh God!' left him.

  Her feet felt nailed to the floor as his arms fell away. She couldn't have moved then if she had tried. She was past caring that her breast was again exposed to his view when Slade stood back, and was unable to move for an age when, tearing his eyes from her, he growled: