By asking casual questions and urging her to talk, he had let her reveal everything about herself, she had unselfconsciously opened her life to him, letting him know her intimately, until he knew her as well as she knew herself, and there were no secrets that she had not told him.
She realised now that, although he knew all about her, she had learned hardly anything about him. After her panic when buying the dressing gown, which she had still not given to him, she had asked him about himself, but it came to her now that he had been very guarded, not giving much away, with such charm that she had hardly noticed.
All she knew was that he was dangerously attractive, shrewd and intelligent, ruthless in pursuit of what he wanted and terribly wealthy. Hardly enough to base a lifelong commitment on. But still she had never doubted him for a second, she thought wildly, until this morning.
She had been eating her breakfast, feeling nervous and excited, when the knock had come on the door of her suite. Still sipping her coffee, she had wandered over to open the door, expecting it to be Roxanne, who had promised to help her get ready.
'You're early. . . .' she began, the words catching in her throat as she saw who stood outside. It was Rene.
'Can I come in, Jassy?' he asked politely, his eyes appraising as they slid over her damp hair and the clinging silk wrap she had thrown on after her shower.
'What are you doing here?' she asked incredulously, still shocked by his appearance in London.
'I wish to talk to you. Can I come in?' he repeated calmly.
Jassy stared at him. He looked pale and tired and very young. 'Very well. But you can't stay long. I'm getting married this morning, and I haven't much time.'
Rene's mouth tightened at her words, but he remained silent as he stepped into the room.
'Very pleasant,' he remarked, looking around as though he had all the time in the world.
'Yes,' Jassy agreed, wishing that he would say what he had come to say, then go.
She had been staying in this hotel suite since arriving in London. She had turned down Max's offer of staying in his house while he stayed with friends. It had seemed wrong. When she went to live in his house, she wanted it to be as his wife. She had also turned down Roxanne's offer of accommodation, wanting to stay in the city. Roxanne and Tomas lived well outside of London, when in England, in the country. Staying in London meant that she could see to last-minute preparations and get in touch with her friends. She also felt, privately, that Roxanne and Tomas had been put out enough, on her account.
So Max had arranged this suite for her, teasing her indulgently about her superstition. It was very pleasant, the views from the windows panoramic, situated as it was on the top floor of a well-known and exclusive hotel.
However, she did not feel inclined to discuss its merits with Rene so early on her wedding morning.
'What do you want to talk about?' she asked suspiciously, when it became clear after several seconds' silence that Rene was not going to make the first move. She wondered if Morgan had sent him. It would not surprise her.
'I want you to call off this wedding and marry me.' He said it so calmly and so casually that it did not sink in for a second.
'Don't be silly, Rene. I want to marry Max,' she said lightly, doubting his seriousness and hoping to keep their conversation brief and fairly friendly.
But it was not to be. Rene's mouth thinned angrily. 'You hardly know him,' he said coldly. 'You cannot possibly know whether or not you wish to marry him.' Jassy felt a spark of irritation at his sullen arrogance.
'I know him well enough,' she answered in a equally cool voice. 'But it's really none of your business, and I think you'd better leave.'
How dared he come to her on her wedding day and try to fill her mind with doubts?
'I'm not leaving until you see sense and change your mind,' Rene replied haughtily.
'What is this?' Jassy laughed, unable to believe his pompous behaviour. 'Did Morgan send you?'
'Your disrespect for your stepfather does not do you credit,' Rene said angrily, not answering her question.
Jassy was incensed. 'How dare you . . .?' she began furiously.
'I dare, because I intend you to marry me, not Bellmer,' Rene cut in icily. 'How much do you know
about him? Not enough, I'm sure.'
'Get out of here! I won't listen to you,' Jassy choked, feeling sick and miserable, and sure that Morgan was behind all this. Rene seemed like a ventriloquist's dummy mouthing her stepfather's words. Rene gave a thin angry smile and strolled over towards the window.
'Do you know, for instance, that Bellmer has been after your stepfather's company for years, without success?' He glanced at Jassy's pale face. 'I can see that you don't. You are not stupid, Jassy, you can surely see your own part in his plans. . . .'
'You're a liar, Rene, you're like Morgan. Don't think I can't see through you. Please leave,' Jassy whispered, sickened by his cruelty, his tenacity.
'It seems that I may have been mistaken. Perhaps you are a fool, too naive to see how Bellmer is manipulating you. When he finally gets his hands on your shares, just remember, it will be you who has destroyed your stepfather. I hope that will please you.' He turned from the window in a sharp ugly movement and began to walk towards the door.
'Shares?' Jassy whispered. 'What shares?' She was staring at him, her eyes dull, her face deathly white, a ghastly feeling of impending doom holding her in its grip.
'This is hardly the time for games,' Rene snapped. Then as he saw her stricken face, he laughed out loud. 'You really don't know? My God, Morgan plays it close to his chest!' He laughed again.
'Tell me,' Jassy urged, hardly able to bear his hostile amusement.
He looked at her consideringly, toying with her. 'I think I will, cherie. It's time you knew.' He paused, as if for effect, before continuing. 'When your mother married your stepfather he gave her, as a wedding present, fifty per cent of the company shares. God knows why, it was a damned fool thing to do, and he's paying for his loving gesture now. So, when your mother died, it was discovered that she had left the shares, not to your stepfather, but to you, in her will. Morgan has control of them until you are twenty-one, then they will become yours, to do with as you will. Your stepfather has had every legal brain in the country trying to break that will. It cannot be done.' He shrugged cynically. 'Your mother was a very clever woman.'
Jassy's legs would not hold her up and she sank into a chair, knocking her coffee cup off the table and not noticing.
Suddenly everything was clear—Morgan's hatred for Max, his fury that they were to be married. It was all too much to cope with, at once, and she covered her face with trembling hands, unaware of Rene's cold, detached eyes upon her.
What hurt most was the fact that Morgan had not told her about the shares. He would have forced her to marry Rene, without compunction, to keep hold of those shares—no doubt they had an agreement between them. It was horrible!
'I didn't know. . . .' she whispered, almost to herself.
Rene was at the door, about to leave, his work done.
'Bellmer did,' he said very clearly. 'He only has to wait two years and the company will fall into his hands. Remember that when you are in his bed, Jassy.'
She flinched from the savage blow of his words. It was his parting shot and he left the suite quietly, his cold, thin, triumphant smile chilling the air around her, and she was alone.
She did not move. She sat perfectly still, her body trembling violently. She felt very confused, her mind whirling around in circles. She did not give a damn about the shares, only the effect they had on the people around her. She could almost understand Rene. He had wanted her and he had wanted the shares, she thought bitterly, and she had turned him down flat, wounding his massive pride. She would not forget his bitter cruelty, though, not ever. He had acted unforgivably.
She got to her feet shakily, desperately wanting to cry and finding herself unable to, she felt too numb and cold inside. Max knew about
the shares. Was that why he wanted her? No, she could not accept that or she would go mad. Every part of her screamed against it. Will nobody ever want me for myself? she asked herself sadly. Every man in the world seemed at that moment to be hard and ruthless, with an unfeeling desire to manipulate people for personal gain. She could trust none of them.
Her fear of being used, yet again, coupled with a deep-rooted lack of self-confidence, filled her with sudden doubts about her marriage to Max. She had been amazed that he wanted her, and he had seemed so very different from all the other men she had ever met. What a fool she had been! Now she knew the truth. He was exactly the same as Morgan and Rene and Pierre and all the others.
Naive and stupid. Both Morgan and Rene had called her those things, and they had been right. She loved Max, even now she loved him, and that was the most bitter blow of all.
Then it struck her. He had never mentioned love. Not once. She thought back to all the time they had spent together, raking through their conversations for a ray of hope, that she could not find. He wanted her, but he did not love her. A cold hand seemed to be squeezing her heart so painfully that she thought she might die. It can't be true, she told herself again and again, but a tiny nagging voice in her head told her that it had surely been proved beyond doubt. She had fallen hopelessly in love with a man who saw her only as a means to an end.
She would not marry him. That would thwart his plans, she thought wildly, the terrible pain inside her, demanding revenge for what he had done to her. But then her head began to clear. If she did not marry Max, what would she do? She could not go back to Morgan, although he would hear that she had not married Max, and no doubt rejoice. He would know that she had 'fallen flat on her face', as he had so charmingly put it, and Jassy suddenly found that unacceptable to her already shaky pride. She might have fallen out of the frying pan into the fire, so to speak, but her stepfather and Rene would never know.
Her decision was suddenly made. She would marry Max and have her revenge on him. She was finished with people using her and she would make him suffer for trying. She would not let him touch her, ever, and furthermore, she would not let him touch the shares when they legally came under her control. She would sign them over to Morgan, after all, they were the only thing he cared about. One of them at least would be happy, she mused bitterly, her anger and emotional turmoil unbalancing her thinking a little.
By the time Roxanne arrived, Jassy was composed, if a little pale. Her quietness was mistaken by Roxanne for bridal nerves, the other woman totally unaware of the misery that lay like a hard stone in Jassy's heart.
The ceremony was simple and quiet. Jassy looked quite breathtaking in a white silk dress that she had chosen with Roxanne's help. It clung to her high breasts and narrow waist, falling in soft folds over her slender hips to just below her knees. Her golden hair was coiled on the top of her head, threaded with tiny white flowers, soft tendrils caressing her cheeks and the vulnerable nape of her neck. She wore diamond teardrop earrings, a present from Roxanne and Tomas that shimmered against the creamy paleness of her skin, and carried a small bouquet of white, beautifully-fragrant freesias, her favourite flowers.
As she walked towards Max, she heard the sudden hiss of his indrawn breath, with a pang of self-doubt at what she intended to do. He watched her intently as she moved gracefully to his side, the purity and the innocent beauty of her, tearing at his heart.
Jassy glanced up at him, her heart thumping heavily as she looked briefly into his fierce, unreadable green eyes. His hair was carefully groomed, his dark suit perfectly cut to his powerful body. He seemed very remote, but the potent force of his devastating personality held her helplessly at his side when she wanted to run for her life from the register office.
The words of the marriage ceremony, huskily spoken by Max, were almost her undoing, and her hand trembled violently as he slipped the heavy band of gold that stated his ownership so positively on to her finger. Then, to her relief, the ceremony was over and he was tilting her face to receive his kiss, his mouth warm and sensual against her cold, stiff and unresponsive lips.
His lazy eyes sharpened on her pale face as she pulled away nervously, but he said nothing, merely taking her arm as they left the building.
The wedding breakfast that followed was a small, select affair, with only the people who had attended the ceremony. Jassy had pleaded for this when the plans were being made. There was to be a larger, more formal reception in a month's time when she was to be introduced to all Max's friends and associates.
She had also revealed some unorthodox plans for the honeymoon, which Max had agreed to. He had told her about his house in the country and she had longed to see it, begging him to let them spend some time there before going away on their honeymoon. Max had been indulgent, wishing her to be happy, aware of her youth and her nervousness, so now they were driving to his house in silence.
It was all so different from how she had imagined it. She had wanted to be alone with him after the ceremony, but now she cursed the wish that had thrown her into this isolated situation. They would be alone, just the two of them, deep in the English countryside.
A small sigh escaped her as desolation washed over her. Her life was in such a mess. Two weeks before, everything had been fine, she had been oblivious to the undercurrents in her life, but now. . . .
Able to think straight, she regretted the wild madness that had sent her to the register office with revenge in her mind. 'Too late for second thoughts,' Max's words echoed in her head. If only I didn't love him, she thought achingly.
'Why so quiet, Jassy?' Max's voice cut into her reverie. 'You haven't said a word since we left the party.'
'I'm tired,' she said stiffly, trying to sound normal and not quite succeeding.
'Rest if you like, I'll wake you when we get there,' he said gently, his voice very deep. 'You can use my shoulder.'
The thought of any physical contact with him made her senses reel and she shrank back further into her seat.
'No . .. no, I'll be fine here,' she replied a little too quickly.
'As you wish.' His voice was impassive, but his dark brows met in a frown, as he cast her a probing look.
Jassy turned away to look out of the window again, deeply aware of him next to her. He was so near that she could hear him breathing if she listened hard. His hands resting lightly on the steering wheel were strong and long-fingered, and the vivid memory of their caress on her body filled her with a sweet, aching weakness. It came as a shock, with the knowledge that he did not love her, to find that she still wanted him. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to force such treacherous thoughts out of her head.
'If you're not going to sleep, would you light me a cigarette?'
She jumped, startled by his voice.
'Yes, of course,' she replied, extracting two from the packet in front of her. She lit one, and leaning over placed it between his lips, making sure that there was no contact, then quickly withdrew to her own corner of the car, to smoke the other one.
Max noted her actions with a slight tightening of his mouth, expelling smoke from his nostrils in a long, sharp stream. Sensing how withdrawn she was, he lapsed into silence for the rest of the journey.
Finally, the sleek black car pulled off the road, through high wrought-iron gates, wild with rhododendrons, and along a gravelled drive. Jassy sat up in her seat, her attention caught by smooth rolling lawns, dotted with trees, and flowers, a rioting profusion of flowers.
As they turned a corner, the house came into view and despite herself, she gasped, staring at it with wonder. It was the most beautiful house she had ever seen, mellowed stone, sheltered and surrounded by trees and covered with ivy, its windows glinting in the afternoon sun.
The car slid to a silent halt outside the front door, a huge wooden arch, surrounded by baskets of hanging flowers, their perfume scenting the warm air, their colours dazzling the eye. Max was watching her carefully, reading her rapt face.
'It's
beautiful,' she whispered, forgetting everything else.'
'I'm glad you think so,' he said with a faint smile.
He got out of the car and strolled round to open the door for her. Ignoring the hand he held out to her, and avoiding the sudden glint she saw in his green eyes, she slid out of the car, her high-heeled shoes crunching noisily on the gravel. She stood in front of the door, gazing up at a small arched window above. Stained glass letters spelled out the word OAKDENE.
Oakdene, she said it to herself, and it sounded good, rolling easily off her tongue.
Max was standing behind her, watching her with narrowed eyes, his expression unreadable.
'I'll show you around,' he said softly, taking her hand firmly in his and ignoring her resistance as she tried to pull away from him. 'Perhaps I should carry you over the threshold,' he added mockingly, a growl of laughter escaping him as he felt her stiffen beside him.
'Don't be ridiculous,' she said irritably, hoping that he had not noticed the desperation in her voice.
'What's so ridiculous about a man wanting to carry his bride over the threshold of their home?' he drawled sardonically, his shrewd eyes missing none of the emotions that were battling on her face. He was playing with her, Jassy realised angrily, deliberately reminding her of what she had done.
'Please show me round, Max,' she begged, hoping to change the subject. He stared at her for a second then pushed open the beautifully old wooden door.
The hall was light with pale walls and thick Oriental carpets. It smelled of flowers and polish and Jassy was never to forget that moment when she first stepped inside Oakdene. It seemed to welcome her, swallowing her up in its warm and peaceful atmosphere. She felt as though she had finally come home after a long and tiring journey.
Wipe Away the Tears Page 11