by Penny Jordan
‘I didn’t. It was a chance I had to take. For all I knew you could have been completely turned off by me physically, but I was hoping the champagne would lower your inhibitions for long enough for me to find out if that air of sensuality you have about you had any basis in reality. No matter what you might have been told, Lissa, one does not have to be wildly or passionately in love to enjoy a sexual relationship.’
‘No, but surely love does add something,’ she protested, remembering the surge of responsiveness she had felt when she realised that she loved him.
‘A great deal,’ he agreed, ‘especially when we’re talking about loving someone as opposed to being in love with them. You and I get on extremely well together Lissa … far better than I’d envisaged. It’s my view that our marriage could be an extremely fulfilling and happy one—for both of us. Tonight was something of an experiment … an attempt on my part to make some reparation to you for the past. I felt I owed it to you to give you the freedom to overcome the past. I think I’ve succeeded, but now it’s up to you to decide whether you wish to use that freedom in staying with me … as my wife … or whether you now feel you want to be free to form other relationships.’
Lissa knew that he was being completely fair and open with her but her heart ached for some whispered words of love … some absurd demand that she remain his and his alone, even if they were lies.
‘Don’t think about it now … Go to sleep.’ As he switched off his lamp he asked teasingly, ‘By the way, am I forgiven for my sins? Plying you with drink … seducing you?’
‘I’ll tell you in the morning,’ Lissa responded drowsily. He wasn’t going to have it all his own way. She might now know that she loved him, but it was a secret she would always keep to herself, she decided sleepily. Something she would do her utmost to conceal from him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘LISSA!’
The shrill voice of her niece dragged Lissa from sleep. She opened her eyes tiredly to find Louise and Emma both next to her on the bed, still in their dressing gowns. Thin February sunlight streamed in through the windows, Joel’s side of the bed empty. Her heart thudded in a mingling fear and delight. She shivered slightly wondering if last night had actually happened or if it had all been a dream, and then she glanced at her watch, stunned to discover that it was gone ten. Why hadn’t Joel woken her? Her skin grew warm as she pictured him waking up and watching her sleeping … while she was so vulnerable. It was just as well it was Saturday and that Joel did not have to go over to the factory.
‘Uncle Joel is making breakfast,’ Louise told her importantly. ‘He said we were to let you sleep.’
‘Yes, I did, didn’t I?’ Joel agreed wryly, walking in carrying a tray and putting it down on her bedside table. The rich aroma of the freshly made coffee was mouthwatering. He had also made some toast and the tray was set with a crisp white cloth and a small vase with some snowdrops. Lissa touched their pale fragile petals gently with the tip of her finger, tears stinging her eyes as she did so. She bent her head so that Joel wouldn’t see them, but he lifted her chin with warm fingers and their eyes met. The warmth and tenderness in his held her. For a moment the earth seemed to tilt on its axis, her heart lurching, knocking against her ribs, and then he bent his head and kissed her lingeringly. A tremendous surge of joy welled up inside her, a happiness so intense that she shook with it. Louise clamoured for attention, Joel released her and the moment of intimacy between them was gone, but Lissa thought she would never forget that even though he might not love her he had cared enough to make that special gesture … to let her know in the cold light of morning that he still remembered the night and that he wanted her to remember it too.
Her mood of light-heartedness lasted all through the day. In the afternoon they took the girls shopping. Louise needed new shoes and of course Emma had to have some too. Once on she refused to be parted from them, and they left the shop amidst smiles from the assistants.
Because Joel had missed so many bedtimes during the week, Lissa organised a family tea, allowing the girls to stay up beyond their normal bedtime. While they were eating Joel talked about his plans to improve the bloodstock carried on one of the estate farms. His suave air of sophistication could be misleading, Lissa reflected, remembering how awe-inspiring she had once found it. At heart he was very much a man who felt passionately about the land and everything connected with it. He was also extremely well read and interested in various aspects of the arts, especially music. All in all a complex, intelligent man with a hidden streak of sensitivity that would always endear him to the female sex. Fear brushed her heart leaving it thumping. Joel would always be attractive to other women. Had he loved her she had little doubt that he would remain faithful, but he didn’t. What would happen if he ever met a woman that he did? How he would resent then his commitment to her … She couldn’t bear it if that should happen. Stop it … stop it, she warned herself. She was crossing bridges she hadn’t yet come to, dealing with problems before they arose.
They bathed the girls together, Louise clinging wetly to Lissa while she dried her, snuggling up to her and whispering, ‘I love you, Lissa, do you love me …?’
Hugging her back, Lissa reassured her, suddenly aware that Joel was watching her.
‘What is it?’ she asked him, conscious of some slight withdrawal within him, some coolness that threatened her.
‘Nothing.’ He got up, picking Emma up. ‘I’ll put this one to bed, shall I?’
What had she done to make him withdraw from her like that? Lissa wondered. Had he perhaps thought looking at her of another woman … one whom he might love as he did not love her?
As they prepared for bed Joel said casually, ‘You know we’re going to have to start doing some socialising shortly. People have left us alone knowing about John and Amanda’s deaths, but I’ve had a couple of invitations recently to dinner, drinks, that sort of thing.’
He didn’t say any more, but nor did he make any attempt to touch her once they were in bed, and although Lissa tried to reassure herself that there could be any number of reasons for the coolness she sensed within him she was filled with fear, experiencing for the first time in her life the full vulnerability that comes with love.
On Monday morning Mrs Fuller arrived, and it was soon quite obvious that the girls were going to take to her. Lissa was in Joel’s study going through the post for him when the phone rang. She picked up the receiver automatically, not recognising the cool feminine voice on the other end of the line, explaining that Joel was out.
‘Oh, I see. You must be John’s sister-in-law then, Lisa …’
‘Lissa,’ Lissa corrected, feeling an inexplicable tug of antagonism towards the unknown caller. ‘And actually I’m now Joel’s wife.’
‘Oh yes, of course, I’d forgotten he’d got married.’ The excuse was smoothly bland, but Lissa was not deceived. Her caller had known all right and apprehension started to trickle down her spine. ‘Joel is an old friend of my husband’s,’ the other woman continued. ‘I was ringing to invite him round for dinner, but of course both of you must come. We normally get together once a month or so, but obviously because of the tragedy …’
They eventually fixed a date, Lissa’s caller introducing herself as Marisa Andrews before she rang off.
Lissa knew little of Joel’s friends apart from odd remarks he had made, and although common sense told her it was ridiculous to feel that the other woman had deliberately set out to unnerve her, she still retained a distinct feeling that she had.
When Joel returned she told him about the phone call. He turned to look at the post, his back to her as he said, ‘Marisa and Peter are old friends of mine. Peter and I were at university together. I was actually dating Marisa at the time and I introduced her to Peter.’
He didn’t say anything else, but Lissa was conscious of an icy ache of depression that stayed with her all evening. When they eventually went to bed she deliberately turned her back to Joel, keeping well to her own
side of the mattress. She thought she felt him touch her hair but she refused to turn round, and eventually the mattress shift as he turned out his lamp. It was hours before she managed to fall asleep her mind churning sickly. Perhaps she was making a mountain out of a molehill … after all just because Joel had once dated this Marisa, it didn’t mean she was the love of his life. Try to keep a sense of proportion, she told herself, but the fear would not go away and neither would the feeling that Joel had cooled towards her. He was still pleasant, but there was no warmth, no hint of teasing intimacy in the occasional duty kisses he gave her when he went out, and by Friday, Lissa was dreading the coming ordeal of Saturday’s dinner party.
On impulse on Friday afternoon she asked Mrs Fuller if she would keep an eye on the girls, explaining that she wanted to buy a new dress. The housekeeper had already promised to look after them on the Saturday evening and Lissa had no qualms about leaving her with them. They enjoyed her company as much as she enjoyed theirs.
She had already been through her wardrobe and had found nothing there that would give her the confidence she felt she so badly needed, and so she decided she would go up to London. She arrived just after two and headed straight for Knightsbridge, determined to find herself a dress that would show the as yet unknown Marisa Andrews that she was no insignificant dreary little mouse. Joel had left the house that morning after breakfast saying that he had some business to conduct and not to expect him back until early evening. He hadn’t said exactly where he was going and Lissa had found his unusual reticence chilling.
Trying to concentrate on the task in hand she hurried into Harvey Nicholls. Two hours later she emerged feeling light-headed with success and slightly guilty over the amount of money she had spent.
Her dress was very plain, long sleeved and high necked in fine wool crepe, fitting snugly over her waist and hips and then flaring out into a slightly bias cut skirt, but the simplicity of the design was more than compensated for in the rich dense blue colour of the fabric. It was a dress cut by a master hand for a woman who enjoyed being a woman and in it Lissa felt confidently sure of her femininity and appeal.
She had been lucky enough to get shoes to go with it, black suede with blue heels and satin ribbons, a touch of frivolity to offset the plainness of the dress.
She had just emerged into the street when she felt someone touch her shoulder. Swinging round, she saw Simon Greaves.
‘Good heavens … what a coincidence!’
‘I’ve just been to see a potential client,’ he told her. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw you. I thought you were immured in the depths of the country.’
‘I came up to do some shopping.’ It was hard to believe that she once thought herself attracted to him. Compared with Joel he seemed lacklustre somehow.
‘Enjoying marriage, are you?’ There was a nasty little bite to the words, and Lissa was faintly surprised by it, but when he suggested they chat over a cup of coffee, she could think of no reason for refusing without being impolite and so she allowed him to guide her towards a small coffee house.
They were given a table in the window and once they had been served Simon started to ask her again how she had settled down in the country. He looked disbelieving when she said she was enjoying it, telling her, ‘I got the distinct impression that you were being rather railroaded into this marriage. You know, Lissa, I miss you,’ he added, covering her hand with his own. Since she could not snatch it away without causing a fuss, Lissa let it lie there, feeling her irritation towards him growing. ‘Come back to my place this afternoon,’ he cajoled. ‘We can talk there.’ The way he looked at her warned Lissa that talk wasn’t all he had in mind and she felt instantly angry. Did he really think she was the sort of person who would contemplate breaking her marriage vows for something as shallow as a brief sexual fling? As she fought down her anger, she felt a prickle of awareness run down her spine. Someone was staring at her. She lifted her head and looked through the window. There was no one there. Shaking it, she told herself that she would have to stop being so over-imaginative and then turned to tell Simon in no uncertain terms that she was not interested in what he was proposing. They parted less than amicably. A cold, frigid bitch, he had called her. Once she would have believed him, but now, thanks to Joel she knew better. Joel! Her heartbeat quickened as she thought about him, and suddenly she couldn’t wait to get home. If only she knew what was making him so cool towards her. She froze almost in her tracks, other shoppers bumping into her. Dear God, what if Joel had guessed the truth. What if he suspected that she loved him and he was keeping her at a distance because he did not want any deep emotional involvement with her? She bit her lip in sudden anguish. Was that it? Had she stumbled on the truth? If so, what was she to do? She could only play the game by Joel’s rules, she decided as she made her way home. She would have to be as cool to him as he was to her so that he would not be burdened with an emotional commitment he obviously did not want. Unwanted love could be a burden and an embarrassment she acknowledged. Perhaps Joel feared that she would demand more of him than he could give and so had decided to hold himself aloof from her as a warning. She thought about the dress she had just bought with the express intention of showing herself off to her best advantage, and swallowed hard. She would have to pretend it was one she had had for some time. Pride stiffened her determination. From now on she would do nothing … nothing that would betray how she felt. She would be as cool and distant as Joel.
Luckily he was not in when she got back and she was able to take her purchases upstairs and put them away. He came in while she was watching the news on television, looking sombrely formal and almost chillingly forbidding. The expression on his face was close to the one of her nightmares, and her heart quailed as she looked at him.
‘Busy day?’
‘Yes … And you?’
Were they really reduced to this … to these banalities, she wondered miserably, contrasting them with the discussions and conversations they had shared with such enthusiasm not so very long ago.
‘No … not really.’ She wasn’t going to tell him about her trip to London. He would want to know why she had gone, and that was something she wasn’t going to tell him now.
She looked across at him, dismayed by the coldness in his eyes, conscious of a leashed tension about his movements. Was it purely because of her, or was it something to do with the fact that tomorrow they were dining with his old girl friend?
‘I’m going out.’
The harsh anger in his voice cut coldly through her frail defences, chilling her, and she shivered.
‘When will you be back?’
‘I don’t know.’ The curt dismissal in his voice hurt.
‘What about dinner?’
‘If I’m not here then start without me,’ he told her derisively, striding towards the door, slamming it on his way out. She listened to his footsteps dying away and then the sound of his car engine firing, standing tensely where he had left her until that too faded. She then went into the kitchen pinning a bright smile to her face as she greeted the girls and Mrs Fuller.
Louise wanted to know where Joel had gone.
‘He had to go and see someone about business,’ she told the little girl, wondering as she did so, rather bleakly, how many times in the months and years to come she was going to repeat that phrase.
The physical consummation of their marriage, the tenderness Joel had shown her then, which should have boded so well for their marriage, seemed only to have widened the gap between them.
Feeling thoroughly depressed, Lissa went upstairs into her bedroom and opened her wardrobe door, staring miserably at the blue dress she had bought with such fervent determination to draw Joel’s attention to her.
Joel did return in time for dinner but he was withdrawn, curt to the point of aggressiveness whenever she talked to him so that gradually her questions ceased and a tense silence filled the room.
She was not surprised, rather relieved in fact, when after
dinner Joel announced that he had work to do and disappeared in the direction of his study.
Lissa went to bed early but it was gone one when Joel came up, walking into the bedroom so quietly, not switching on any of the lights, so that she was forced to the conclusion that he would prefer her to be asleep. Her heart ached with love and despair.
Tomorrow was another day, and somehow she must find the courage to face it—and Marisa Andrews.
CHAPTER EIGHT
NO ONE COULD ever have dressed for a dinner party with less enthusiasm, Lissa thought miserably as she brushed her hair. Joel was in their bathroom; she could hear him splashing about under the shower. Disturbing mental images of the lithe maleness of him tormented her, making her hands shake so much that she had to put down the brush. Her body now awakened to the pleasure of Joel’s lovemaking seemed to crave it with all the single minded intensity of an addict for his favourite drug. Whenever he was in the same room with her she ached with a tension that had nothing to do with tiredness or over-stretched nerves. It was humiliating that she should feel like this. How could she love and want him to this extent, especially when she knew that he cared little or nothing for her?
He came out of the bathroom while she was zipping up her dress. Out of the corner of her eye Lissa studied him, tiny shivers of awareness feathering down her spine as he shrugged off his robe and started getting dressed. Unlike her he seemed totally unselfconscious about his nudity; totally unaware of the dry-mouthed anguish with which she fought not to look at him because to look was to want to touch and to go on touching …
Her zipper stuck and she made a small impatient sound. Joel looked up and frowned, immediately perceiving what had happened.
‘Here let me.’ His voice was as cool as the touch of his fingers against her over-hearted skin. She could smell the clean male scent of him and she wanted nothing more than to turn round and be taken into his arms. The intensity of her own emotions overwhelmed her, making her tense her body against any such betrayal.
