Dishonest woman

by Jessica Steele

  She knew then, as a silence stretched behind her, that Slade was thinking her idiotic. She wondered herself how clear her thinking was, since she had thought

  only of securing Bramcote when she had married him, but accepted that the effect of his lovemaking was enough to have her muddle-headed.

  She braced herself to feel hard hands bearing down on her, then was fighting against fresh confusion when at last his voice reached her, his voice kind, gentle, the way it had been all through their lovemaking.

  Will you be all right if I leave you?' he asked. 'You haven't any tablets, remember.'

  Kimberley hadn't given thought to needing a tranquilliser, but she knew suddenly that she could cope without them. Though at the same time she realised, had she been going to need one at all, it would only be because she was shattered at the incredible knowledge that Slade didn't look as if he was going to cut up rough. She took a gulp of air.

  `I'll be all right,' she said.

  She was never so staggered as when Slade stayed only long enough to drop a light kiss on her bare shoulder, just as if he found her naked back irresistible, then went quickly to his room and quietly closed the door.

  Kimberley sat there for long, long minutes after that door had closed. Thoughts of the mighty control Slade must have on himself threatened to sink her. He had wanted her, she had no doubt about that. His need for her had been urgent, she had felt that too. Yet he had somehow managed to control that conquering male aggression in him, had got up from the bed and left her when she had explained her reasons. He had even had the thoughtfulness to ask if she would be all right!

  She lay down in bed, the fresh thought coming that maybe the reason he had been able to leave her without that aggression showing was because his need for a woman's body had been slaked in London. She did not like the thought.

  Then she had to wonder at herself—the desire Slade had been able to awaken in her. How she had been

  ready to give herself to him even when she was fairly convinced he had been having a high old time in London.

  Her body chemistry had a lot to answer for, she thought, then promptly left thoughts of her own traitorous body as she recalled that he had thought it had been thoughts of David coming to her that had had her calling 'Don't!'

  And she was further staggered then to realise that since her broken engagement, when she had been eaten up with thoughts of her ex-fiance, for the past two days, she had not thought of David—not once.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AT dawn Kimberley awoke, to be bombarded with memories of what had so nearly happened between her and Slade the night before. What on earth had come over her that the voice of protest had been nowhere to be heard? She had been ready to give herself to him right until up to the time he had questioned whether she had come to any decision about selling Bramcote!

  With no one there to see, hot colour flooded her face as she recalled the way his bare chest had been pressed against her naked breasts.

  Wanting to rid herself of all memory of the previous night, of how pliant she had been in his arms, Kimberley got rapidly out of her bed. She was washed and dressed in record time, and was sitting in the kitchen to find her memories had followed her, that she couldn't escape them so easily.

  Slade had once told her it wouldn't be rape if ever he took her, and now she could believe him. She had been as mad as hell with him for treating her home like a lodging house, coming to Bramcote when he had left off his activities in London. But in a very short space of time he had turned her from the shrewish woman who had opened the door to him into a clinging woman who had soon forgotten any thoughts she had had that she wasn't the first woman he had had in his arms that day.

  Well, it mustn't be allowed to happen again, she resolved. For her own self-respect she had to keep him away from her. She now knew that he could overcome her resistance to him, so she had, for her own peace of mind, to keep away from him.

  For going on two hours Kimberley sat in her kitchen

  pondering on the unpleasant thought that to the Slade Darvilles of this world, another woman succumbing to their sexual prowess was no more than they expected.

  She left her chair and went to make a pot of tea, saw her hands were shaking, and knew just why. She was dreading having to face Slade again. Her insides turned over at just the very thought. Oh, why didn't he get up so she could get that first meeting over with and then be able to put that scene, which she still found stupefying to remember had ended with him leaving her without getting angry, behind her?

  Kimberley poured herself a cup of tea, her mind returning to the thought she had had last night. The thought that Slade hadn't turned nasty as she had expected, and that the reason he hadn't was plain to see. The edge had been taken off his appetite before he had driven his car in the direction of the village of Amberton.

  This is crazy, she thought, knowing her brain wouldn't give her a moment's rest from the subject that had filled it for the past few hours, until Slade appeared, that first meeting over.

  In a mood of—well, she wasn't sitting around waiting all day for him to come out of his exhausted (and she knew why) slumber, Kimberley stood up, collected a tray, and poured tea into a second cup.

  She was in her bedroom, the closed dressing room door facing her before she got cold feet. Then knowing the alternative was to go back downstairs and have her brain chasing after that same theme that had already been done to death, she went forward.

  Her brief knock on the door that separated the two rooms had disturbed him. He opened his eyes as she went in, then rolled from his back on to his side, propping himself up on one elbow, his eyes following her as she moved to the small bedside table and transferred the cup and saucer from the tray.

  Her colour was high—she knew it was, and was

  thankful Slade couldn't see the turmoil going on inside her at the sight of the darker hair on his chest, his chest that had been .. .

  He caught hold of her wrist staying her when, her eyes averted, she would have left him without comment. 'This is just like being at home, having morning tea brought to me,' he remarked softly.

  `It's time you got up,' she told him sourly.

  Then she saw he was the type who woke up in a disgustingly sunny humour, as, not taking offence, even when she snatched her wrist out of his hold, he asked equably:

  `Have you got a good morning kiss for me?'

  Tight-lipped, Kimberley looked at his tormenting face and met his eyes without flinching, although her cheeks were pink.

  `Is that what you received in London yesterday morning—a good morning kiss?'

  She wished she had tipped the tea all over him when, instead of him being stung by her remark as she hoped, his face creased into a wicked grin as he told her:

  `The divorce, my darling, is going to be my prerogative.' And with a whole cartload of charm, 'Am I likely, do you think, to admit to anything that will give you an ace?'

  Kimberley slammed out, wishing heartily that she had forgotten to put the two spoons of sugar he liked in his tea. Had that wicked look in his eye come from remembrance of the sweetness of the female he had awakened with yesterday? Thank God she hadn't gone the same way; although it had been a near thing

  The morning mail had been delivered by the time Slade joined her, tears that had been a stranger to her these past few days catching her at the unexpectedness of seeing a couple of bills addressed to her father.

  `Have you had breakfast?' Slade addressed her bent head as she swallowed back sad tears.

  `I don't want any,' she said quietly.

  She heard him move, come to the side of her. 'What have you got there?'

  `Just a couple of bills,' she said, and left her sad thoughts behind as without more ado he took the phone and electricity bills out of her hands and calmly told her:

  `I'll settle these.' And just as though by his lofty statement he would pay for services he hadn't used, the matter was finished with, 'Have we any bacon?'

 
`You won't settle them!' she fired, her eyes still moist, sparking dangerously.

  Slade looked back at her and she saw then as his expression became chiselled, that the aggression that hadn't surfaced last night was now looking for an outlet.

  `I could have taken you last night,' he told her gratingly, bringing out into the open a subject she had no intention of discussing, 'but I didn't. Don't try and get away with murder today, Kimberley. You just might push me too far.'

  She wanted to tell him he wasn't going to browbeat her, plus a hundred other things she could think of. But the look on his face told her he meant it when he had said she just might push him too far. And suddenly she was too afraid what his retribution might be, and had nothing to come back with when, after giving her ample time, Slade turned from her, pushing the bills into his pocket.

  Well, he could cook his own breakfast, she thought, and hoped he burnt his bacon, as she went upstairs to make her bed and tidy up.

  She stayed upstairs for a long time: Then she saw from her bedroom window that Slade had got the antiquated lawnmower out of the shed. She watched while he made a short attempt to mow one lawn, then saw him give it up. She could have told him the mower was on its last legs.

  The next time she peeped out she saw he was having

  a go at servicing the mower. So he didn't want her company either, she thought, having decided a few hours ago to go into hiding if he yelled up the stairs for her to come down and eat breakfast.

  He hadn't called her down and demanded she eat, so she gathered from that he was fed up with her and didn't care a damn if she did lose those few pounds she had put on.

  It was half past eleven when she went down to make herself a cup of coffee. He had already had tea in bed, and she didn't want to make him a cup of coffee. But her own coffee was steaming in its beaker, a feeling of being mean came over her.

  She went to the kitchen door, opened it, called, `Coffee!' and closed it again. If he hadn't heard then she had made the effort, hadn't she?

  Slade came in, washing his hands at the sink. But Kimberley was finding her coffee of the utmost interest.

  `Still sulking?' came the cool enquiry.

  Hot words rose, but she bit them back. 'You bring out the best in me,' she said sweetly.

  `I enjoyed it too,' he said, mockery there, so she knew just exactly what he was talking about.

  `Have you got the mower to work yet?' she enquired, playing dumb, and heard him laugh.

  She didn't laugh with him. But it was as though hearing him laugh had banished her blues. She felt a smile in her at any rate, which was a pleasing change from feeling down, the way she had all morning, as Slade then asked how long she had had the mower and they discussed its few merits.

  Kimberley was rinsing out the mugs they had used when she heard the mower start up, and glancing through the window, she saw Slade push it on to the lawn—and actually caught herself singing softly as she investigated the larder deciding what to have for lunch. Then she stopped singing as it came to her that she

  would have to get down to thinking what she was going to do about her lovely home. She still thought of it as lovely even though to hear Slade talk it needing something doing to it before too long.

  By the time lunch was ready she had swung this way and that, and was still no nearer to knowing what she should do..

  It came to her consciousness that she hadn't heard the mower for some ten minutes now. That must mean it had either packed up, or that Slade had finished. She went to the door to tell him lunch would soon be ready, then stopped on the threshold. He was at the far end of the garden, his hand resting on the mower, having cut the engine as he passed the time of day with old Sammy.

  David would never have done that, she found herself thinking. He would never have cut the noisy engine to stop and have a few words with the old boy. Now wasn't it nice of Slade to do that? she thought, and was taken aback by the thought that came from nowhere; that Slade was a much nicer person than David.

  Kimberley was back in her kitchen when the door opened and Slade came in, 'Something smells good,' he remarked as he went to the sink. 'I thought it might be nosebag time when I saw you come to the door.'

  He turned from the sink, taking up the towel to dry his hands, his action stopping momentarily as he looked· her way and saw her pale face.

  `Something wrong?' he asked at once.

  She shook her head. How could she tell him, when she didn't believe it herself, that she had compared him with David and had actually seen -him in a more favourable light!

  `Don't bottle it up, Kim,' Slade said, discarding the towel and coming over to take hold of her by the shoulders. 'Something is worrying you. Is it the house?'

  About to shake her head again, Kimberley looked

  up into his sincere blue eyes. And she knew in that instant that in the matter of Bramcote, if nothing else, she could trust him.

  `About the house, Slade,' she said, and seizing on a moment of courage, 'w-will—would you buy it from me?'

  For nerve-racking seconds, as he looked sternly at her without answering, she thought he had changed his mind. And she knew panic that if he wouldn't do as he had said, she just didn't know what she was going to do.

  `I've said I will,' he said at long last, but paused, his look severe still as he asked what she had forgotten. 'I will keep my word, Kimberley, as I always intended, but how about you?'

  Her brow puckered. 'What about me?'

  `More specifically—what about the normal marriage we spoke of?'

  `Oh,' she said. Bramcete, losing title to it to the front of her mind—she had forgotten that part of the deal. But she remembered then. Remembered too the thoughts that had come unceasingly to her early that morning that her own self-respect demanded she should not be just some village girl he had tucked away for when he got bored with the sophisticated women he knew in London.

  She moved out of his hold, and he let her go. She nibbled at her bottom lip, knowing he was being fair. She saw it was to her advantage to close that loophole that gave him cause to divorce her before February, when she could lose Bramcote anyway. But still she could not give him her word that she would be his.

  m—I'm not ready yet, Slade,' she stammered, and, facing him, 'I—need time to—to adjust.'

  She saw then from the slight narrowing of his eyes that he was thinking she had seemed to be adjusting more than well last night. That the only reason then that she hadn't given in completely, so she had said,

  was because she hadn't made up her mind about the very subject they were discussing.

  And then she felt a definite liking for him when, although it was clear what he was thinking, Slade forbore to say any of it.

  But what he did say had her feeling winded that she didn't know the answer, when point blank he asked: `Are you still in love with David Bennet?'

  The very positive answer of 'yes' was ready on her tongue before she thought about it. But when she went to say it, the word wouldn't leave her. For one crazy moment her world spun round. A week ago there had been no doubt in her mind. But—she didn't know any longer!

  She was gasping, not believing she could be so unsure. `I—don't know,' she choked. 'I—honestly don't know.'

  She saw Slade smile the moment before he came and half pushed, half helped her down into a chair. `Rocked you, has it?' he said, not unkindly. 'Sit there and get your breath while I take whatever smells as though it's got a nice burnt crust out of the oven.'

  He was treating her like an invalid. And indeed her legs did feel shaky. But she could manage herself to rescue their meal. She got up from the chair he had pushed her into and reached for an oven cloth at the same time as he was reaching for the thick towel that would have served the same purpose.

  Over lunch Slade asked her the name of her solicitor and where he could be found. 'Charles Forester,' she told him. 'He has offices in Thaxly.' And, not sure why he wanted the information, she asked, 'Why?'

  `Because it's
in your interests that your legal adviser is in on the sale of Bramcote from the very beginning.'

  `You know I can't...'

  `Come to me yet?' he queried, saving her the embarrassment of having to go over again what she had told him in the kitchen. He smiled with some charm, his

  eyes holding hers deliberately as he said softly, 'I can wait.' Then he went on swiftly to tell her lawyer would probably be able to tell her the best man to value the property, ending with, 'We'll go and see him this afternoon—do you have his number?'

  As Slade had once told her, he didn't hang about once a decision had been made. He was taking her breath away with the speed he intended to move. But even so, he could have no idea that the pace of life in this part of the world was a whole lot slower than in the London he was more used to.

  `It might be next week before you can get an appointment to see Mr Forester,' she thought she'd better warn him.

  Her answer was a benign smile. Clearly he didn't share her doubts. 'He'll see us today,' he said confidently. 'I want to be in my office for nine on Monday.'

  So he was starting back to work next week, Kimberley mused, as taking her with him to the phone Slade dialled the number she had given him, and was charming his way past Charles Forester's gorgon of a secretary and speaking to the man himself.

  Kimberley still hadn't recovered when with Slade she set about washing up before they left to keep the appointment he had made for them in Thaxly for three that afternoon. Without fuss he had told Charles Forester that his client Miss Kimberley Adams was now his wife, and while Mr Forester was getting over that, told him in a voice that would entertain no refusal that he would like to see him that afternoon to discuss the disposal of the property she was due to inherit. What Mr Forester made of that she didn't know, though she thought maybe the way Slade had phrased it had had the effect of making him want to get in there quick before she sold something that wasn't yet legally hers.

  `Slade,' she said slowly, sitting in the car beside him on the way into Thaxly He took his eyes briefly from