Kate: A Universal Truth (A Wish for Love Series Book 1)

by Shales, Mia

  Chapter Eight

  Kate dreamed. In her dreams she was lying on a bed of soft flowers, a ray of light playing on her features. She opened her eyes and saw a man kneeling beside her.

  “Dearest,” he whispered.

  She lifted her hand and smoothed his hair back. His eyes reminded her of the forest foliage in the fall.

  “I love you.”

  His dark head leaned over hers and his lips brushed lightly against hers. His mouth had such a good fresh taste. She lifted her arm and wound it around his neck. His hands encompassed her back and she raised herself, urging him to intensify the kiss.

  “So sweet,” he murmured, “so warm and sweet.”

  She opened her eyes. This was no dream. This was reality itself. She was most indubitably in a man's embrace. Oh my Lord, she thought in panic, what had she told him in her sleep? She very clearly remembered the words: I love you. Had she uttered those words or dreamed them?

  He shifted on his side, one hand supporting his head. The poem he quoted left no hope her confession had not passed her lips.

  “In a flush of rose, she woke, and her eyes that opened

  Swam in blue through her rose flesh that dawned

  From her dew of lips, the drop of one word

  Fell like the first of fountains: murmured

  'Darling', upon my ears the song of the first bird.

  'My dream becomes my dream', she said, 'come true.

  I waken from you to my dream of you'.”

  He was silent and Kate stared as though hypnotized. The melodious words of Stephen Spender's poem still played in her ears. She wondered at the limits of his memory. How extraordinary to recite an entire poem so perfectly.

  She lowered her eyes to scour his naked torso. A man with such a body should never wear clothes, she thought.

  His shoulders, chest and arms were a weave of long muscles, perfectly sculpted. His skin was smooth except for the dark, feathery hair that descended from his chest to a thin line that disappeared into the pajama bottoms. His stomach was flat and Kate knew many athletes would be delighted if they could develop such a strong and flexible body. The only imperfection in the perfect skin was a long scar under his left chest.

  “It's at your disposal, all of it,” said Matthew, undergoing her meticulous scrutiny with an amused look.

  “Thanks, but I think I'll take up your generous offer another time.” She sat up in the bed, conscious that she was wearing only her underclothes. Somebody had disrobed her during the night and there could be no doubt who that somebody was. She drew the sheet up to her chin.

  “I want to know what happened last night,” she demanded.

  “I came back home and found you in my bedroom. After a very provocative striptease for my benefit, you dragged me to the bed, tied my hands and for the rest of the night used my body to satisfy your uncontrollable sexual appetite.”

  She laughed. “Be serious. I know nothing happened between us. I mean, what happened with Lola?”

  “Ah, Lola,” he sighed with feigned disappointment, “what do you want to know about Lola?”

  “Why did you act the way you did and why does she think you're the father of her child?”

  “I'm not responsible for Lola's behavior and even if she is carrying a child, which is most doubtful, I can assure you without a shadow of a doubt that I'm not the father.” The humor and warmth disappeared.

  “How can you be so cold and callous? You were together a long time. You could at least treat her with some cordiality.”

  “We went out for a month and a half and I don't think I have to be cordial to her. That would only encourage her absurd hope that she can revive whatever there was between us. I did what had to be done. I took her home, I put her to bed because she couldn't, or wouldn't, do it herself, and following your advice, gave her an aspirin before leaving. What else do you think I should have done?”

  “I don't know. Perhaps speak to her, comfort her. You exploit people and then when you're done with them you simply ignore their existence, erase them from your life. Are you so heartless that the suffering of those who trust you and love you mean nothing once you've used them and discarded them like a broken toy?”

  Matthew's eyes narrowed and Kate thrust out her chin. She wasn't afraid of him. She wanted the truth.

  He rose and walked to the window, standing with his back to her. The gold threads glinted as a pale ray of sunlight played with his hair and rippled down his back, tinting it with an amber sheen. He turned and looked at her with cold eyes.

  “Is your condemnation the result of the incident with Lola, or do you have classified information that makes you pass such severe judgment on my lack of pity and on the flaws in my character?"

  He's not stupid, she thought. But why not tell him the truth? Let him know what she found out. That would put him in his place.

  “Richard Lindsay told me all about the contempt and ruthlessness with which you treated him despite your grandfather’s will, how you distanced him from Rebecca and ruined their friendship. What he revealed didn't put you in a very favorable light.”

  Matthew's face paled and the sparks in his eyes turned to smoldering coals. He took a step in her direction and Kate clutched the sheet to her chest. He was angry at her. Maybe she shouldn't have blurted out what she did but Lindsay's tale had weighed on her for too long. She needed answers. She wanted to understand the motives and the character of this man she desired more than any other man she had ever met.

  “You show great sympathy for Lindsay's problems,” Matthew said and Kate heard the tension and hatred in his voice. He almost spat out the words.

  “Anyone hearing of his bad luck would sympathize with him.”

  “Bad luck!” Matthew scornfully repeated her words and added derisively, “truly miserable luck.”

  “Because of you he had to leave Oxford law school,” Kate accused, unable to stop the flow of words, “because of you he couldn't work at a prestigious London law firm and had to eke out a living without a penny, without a degree or any standing. You were the cause of all his tribulations, and you have the nerve to belittle his troubles.”

  “Finally, I'm beginning to fathom your true opinion of me. I must admit I had no idea of the low esteen in which I’m held. My failings and sins, according to the woeful picture you painted, are indeed overwhelming.”

  Kate rose from the bed, covering herself with the sheet that trailed behind her. “You must admit that, except for family and close friends, from the moment we met you acted arrogant and supercilious.”

  “Enough! I think you've had your say. You've made yourself very clear and I don't see the need to pursue the subject. Get dressed and I'll take you to Oxford.”

  Kate felt the air leave her sails. She suddenly felt very, very forlorn. She wasn't sure she truly believed her own words. She thought he would react differently, that he would explain his side, clear things up. She had only succeeded in enraging him. She gaped as he closed the bathroom door behind him.

  With a supreme effort she overcame the dull, growing pain. She wouldn't apologize. If she was mistaken in her accusations he should have swallowed his pride and set the record straight. He chose to neither deny nor explain and that worked against him. Even if he lost both respect and interest in her, she could learn to live with that. Patrick's betrayal hadn't broken her and she wouldn't break now. But in the hidden recesses of her mind Kate knew very well that the situation now was very different. Patrick had never even scratched at the wall that guarded her heart while Matthew, in the short time they knew each other, had succeeded without effort to breach it completely. She would have to pick up the pieces and rebuild her defenses anew. She heard the water in the shower stop running and rushed to dress.

  “Do you want something to drink or eat before we go?” he asked her with cool courtesy.

  “No, thanks.”

  Matthew opened the car door without uttering a word. His silence upset her far more than his anger. When t
he car was on its way she broke the painful silence.

  “You can drop me off at the train station. I'll get to Oxford on my own.”

  “I promised to take you home and I intend to keep my promise. It will be far more comfortable and you will get home much faster.”

  Kate had to agree with him about the speed but had her doubts about the comfort. The atmosphere was thick and the enclosed, intimate space in the car contributed little to Kate's peace of mind. She stirred uneasily, aware of her tense muscles. Matthew drove fast but not recklessly and Kate again felt the aura of power that surrounded him, the confidence and inner calm that were so integral a part of him. Even when he was angry, and Kate had no doubt he was angry with her, he did not lose his self control. This man was cast-iron.

  Kate almost jumped out of her skin when after an hour of driving he said without turning his head, “the first thing you said when you awoke was that you love me.”

  This was the last thing she expected to hear. His voice was softer, less cold.

  “I must have dreamed,” she said.

  They did not speak until the car slid to a stop in front of her house in Oxford. Matthew got out of the car and opened the door for her. “Can I come up with you and use the bathroom before I go back?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  Truth to tell, he was dragging out the time. He had no need to refresh himself. Damn it, I'm acting like a moonstruck teenager, he thought sardonically but it was too late to retreat.

  Kate thought of Jemina. If she had been so excited by flabby Richard, how would she react to Matthew? She turned the key in the lock but before she managed to remove it the door opened wide and Kate, if not for Matthew behind her, would have fallen.

  Emma stood in front of them, her face pale, her expression severe.

  Matthew looked at Kate hesitantly, “If I'm in the way...”

  “No, no, don't go,” Emma said.

  Kate led Emma to the sofa and sat down opposite her. “Tell me what happened. What could be so terrible?”

  “It's Jemina.” Emma, visibly upset, tried to control her voice. “The police arrested her this morning and charged her with possession of heroin,” she managed to say.

  “What?” Astounded, the blood drained from Kate's face.

  Matthew looked at Emma. “Who is Jemina?”

  “Our cousin. She's eighteen, mixed up, and as full of problems as a pomegranate of seeds. She turned up on our doorstep a week ago, flat broke, and announced she was here to stay until she found a job in London. Kate called our aunt and begged her to convince Jemina to come home but she insisted we had nothing to worry about as Jemina knew how to take care of herself. “

  “I could choke that girl,” said Kate. “How could she get involved in something terrible like this? She's never given a moment's thought to the feelings of others.” She addressed Emma. "Tell me everything."

  “I returned home Monday afternoon, and after my telephone conversation with Matthew,” Emma glanced briefly at Matthew who kept silent even when Kate lifted an eyebrow in his direction, “I got a text message from Jemina announcing she was leaving Oxford with Richard Lindsay to...”

  “With whom?” Matthew interrupted, giving her his full attention.

  “With Richard Lindsay. Perhaps you remember him. I made the introductions at the party,” Emma reminded him.

  “And from where, if I may be permitted to ask, does Jemina know Lindsay?”

  Kate's anger and concern turned to gloomy foreboding. It was all her fault. “I introduced them,” she whispered. “He called a few days after the party and asked me to meet him for coffee. I saw no reason to refuse Jemina's entreaty to join us. We were together about an hour and then said good-bye.” Kate dared not look at Matthew. Her feelings at this moment were of little importance compared to her cousin's problems, but she wished the earth would swallow her up for shame.

  “Anyway,” Emma went on, “she wrote that Lindsay and she had been meeting without our knowledge every day of the past week, that they were in love and planned to marry soon. She said that we wouldn't be hearing from her in the near future as Lindsay intended to take her to Paris.”

  “Why didn't you call me when you found all this out?” Kate immediately regretted her question. Emma looked as though she would burst into tears.

  “I didn't want to disturb you. You work so hard and this was your first vacation in a year. I called Aunt Mildred and told her everything. I gave her Lindsay's address and phone number.”

  “And where did you get them from?” Kate cut in.

  “I found his business card in Jemina's room. Aunt Mildred promised to set out for London and convince her daughter to come home. She arrived in London yesterday afternoon but failed to trace the two. She's staying over at her sister-in-law Alice. At five this afternoon she called from the city, all shook up, and told me that last night the police arrested Lindsay and Jemina at the airport, with Jemina in possession of a large amount of heroin. The detectives found nothing on Richard but, according to Mildred's information, the police know he's responsible for the smuggling and that Jemina is an innocent victim. According to her the police have been trailing Lindsay for a long time and they have solid proof that he, and his partner Dominique Lauren, have been running a drug smuggling network. She telephoned again a quarter of an hour ago and said the court had agreed to release Jemina on bail of eighty thousand pounds."

  “Eighty thousand pounds? How will they raise such a sum? Eighty thousand! Mildred must be going out of her mind.” Kate and Emma looked helplessly at each other.

  “Kate, I must leave,” said Matthew quietly and Kate, hurt, looked at him. She couldn't blame him. He must loathe her. Despise her. Richard Lindsay was the dregs of humanity and Matthew, without a doubt, knew this. She had dared judge this superb man on the basis of the malicious and false tale of a smooth-talking, cunning and low criminal. She thought back to the party. She had been so obtuse, so unsuspecting. How could she not have wondered why a total stranger should relate such intimate details of his life just minutes after they'd met. How far could her blindness and stupidity lead her? She, who had always prided herself on being a fair person who judged people by their qualities and acts and not according to appearances, had fallen prey to pride, arrogance and bias. She had made her first mistake with Patrick but instead of learning a lesson and acting with greater prudence and humility, had fallen into the trap a second time. She could never forgive herself.

  “Yes, of course,” she responded, a ball of pain and tears welling up in her throat, “I've taken up enough of your time.”

  He looked at her, his eyes veiled behind an opaque screen.

  Only at that moment did Kate understand the true nature of her feelings for him. Only now, after she had lost any hope he would reciprocate her feelings, did Kate understand how desperately she loved him. She accompanied him and opened the door. She wanted him to leave. She didn't want him to see her cry. The humiliation was painful enough without his being witness to her misery and vulnerability.

  “Katie, what happened?” Emma was shaken at the sight of the rivulets of tears that coursed down her sister's cheeks. “You're taking this too much to heart. I'm sure the judge will be convinced that Jemina, despite her abrasive manner, was only a victim and will acquit her.”

  “It's not because of Jemina,” wailed Kate, her voice choked with tears, “it's because of Matthew.”

  “Matthew?”

  Kate told her sister everything Lindsay said at the party and all that had passed since she went down to London. Emma spent the next couple of hours trying to comfort her sister.

  “You'll see, everything will work out for the best. We'll be at Bellewoodplain and you'll be able to apologize for what you said. After all, you couldn't know Lindsay was a crook. I was also very favorably impressed when we met at the party. You're not to blame. Wipe your tears. Naivity is not a crime, sister.”

  “Perhaps naivity isn't, but lynching an honest man without examin
ing all the facts is despicable. I should have known better. Lindsay’s interest in Jemina in the cafe was unnatural. I shouldn't have agreed to her joining us. She was so easily taken in by his empty promises.”

  “There, there,” Emma smiled at her, “you're exaggerating.”

  It was late when they turned in. All evening they waited in vain for a call from their aunt. Only the next afternoon did the telephone ring.

  “Kate, it's Mildred. Everything is working out. I put up the bail and hired the best lawyer in London. He's already had poor Jemina released from detention and he'll represent her in all future proceedings. We're going to stay over at my sister-in-law for the weekend because the prosecuting attorney will question her on Monday in order to decide whether to charge her.”

  This was too good to be true. Jemina out on bail and represented by the best lawyer in London with a good chance of not being charged at all. “How did you get the money?” Kate queried.

  “Well, the truth is, that is,” Her aunt had a coughing attack and Kate waited patiently until she caught her breath. “Alice helped me raise the money. She contacted all sorts of people and pulled strings and as you see, she managed to arrange matters most satisfactorily.”

  Kate never knew Mr. Hopson's sister to be either wealthy or influential. As far as she knew, Mildred's sister-in-law was a secretary with a modest income, three children and an insurance agent for a husband. Well, let it be, the important thing was the money was there, Kate thought to herself. Mildred and her husband should be grateful to Jemina's aunt for the rest of their lives. Kate was well aware they could never pay back the debt.

  John Bayhem called that evening. Emma answered the phone and Kate, when she understood who was calling, discretely left the room, allowing Emma to talk in private. When she hung up, Emma announced that various matters, urgent business, were keeping John and Matthew in London and Matthew requested they put off their visit to Bellewoodplain for a week.