by Penny Jordan
‘Well…’
‘We accept,’ Lisa said, firmly silencing her husband with a brief look.
Just before Jenna and Graham left, Lisa took Jenna’s arm and whispered to her, ‘Thanks very much. I can’t tell you what it will mean to me to have at least one room decent! It’s very kind of you.’
‘Not at all,’ Jenna countered evenly. ‘We’ll both benefit from it, I’m sure.’
It was only when they were in the car that Graham made any comment. ‘That was a very generous thing you did, Jenna,’ he told her softly. ‘Despite everything you might say, you know very well they could never have afforded to hire a designer of your calibre. And before you say another word, I know quite well that you’ve turned down several commissions locally already.’
It was true. Jenna had been approached by several people who wanted her to do some work for them, but the urge to work seemed to have left her. She was content simply to live…or at least she had been, until this afternoon. Something about that poor unloved drawing-room had called out to her, and she had welcomed that call as signalling a return to her normal self. Perhaps if she was more occupied with work she would have less time to worry about her reaction to James.
‘How about having dinner with me on Saturday evening to celebrate?’ Graham suggested with a smile.
This wasn’t the first time he had invited her out to dinner at the weekend, but so far she had always refused, because James was always at home. Instinctively she knew that Graham’s invitation did not extend to her husband. The words of refusal were trembling on her lips as they turned into the pub car park where she had left her car. When they left it had been the only vehicle there, now with a shock she recognised James’s BMW parked alongside it, and even more shocking was the sight of James standing beside it, his dark hair ruffled in the breeze, his face drawn into an expression of intense anger.
‘Jenna…’ Graham’s voice dragged her attention from her husband to himself, and she realised that he was still waiting for a response to his invitation.
‘I don’t know, Graham,’ she replied in a faintly distracted voice. ‘I’ll have to ring you.’ In her heart of hearts she knew she would not accept his invitation, but with James looking at them both with those icily cold blue eyes she was too wrought up even to think of replying to Graham properly.
James didn’t even allow Graham the courtesy of helping her out of his car. His hand was on the door handle the moment the other man brought the car to a halt.
‘James…What a surprise!’ How fluttery and nervous her voice sounded, Jenna realised, deploring her weakness in her reaction to him. Why on earth was she behaving like a guilty wife when she had done nothing wrong?
‘Allingham!’ Graham spoke curtly avoiding James’s eyes, Jenna noticed, suddenly feeling sorry for her friend. He looked uneasy and uncomfortable in James’s presence, and he did not compare favourably with her husband physically either, but despite that she felt a rush of warm sympathy towards him, and a corresponding flood of resentment against James.
‘What a surprise,’ she reiterated shortly, as she got out of the car. ‘I thought you weren’t coming back until later.’
‘The client I was going to have lunch with couldn’t make it.’ On the surface James was completely urbane, but Jenna could sense the rage simmering underneath. By what right was he angry with her? she wondered bitterly. She had done nothing wrong, unless he considered lunching with another man to be ‘wrong’. She wasn’t James’s property, she reminded herself, bitterly angry with him all of a sudden. How dare he come looking for her like this, humiliating her in front of Graham? Humiliating Graham with his totally unreasonable anger. And why was he angry? James was hardly the man to play the role of jealous husband—in order to experience jealousy one first must experience love. Her mouth compressed into tight resentment.
‘What are you doing here, James?’ she demanded angrily, two dark spots of colour burning on her cheeks.
‘Looking for you. Sarah was concerned when you didn’t return after lunch. She said you’d been having trouble with your car—something about the brakes. She was concerned that you might have had an accident.’
It was plausible—just. She had complained to Sarah that her car was giving her trouble. She bit her lip, suddenly feeling at an acute disadvantage.
‘Well, as you can see I’m still in one piece,’ she said in brittle tones. ‘Graham took me to see a set of Chippendale dining-room furniture he knew I’d be interested in.’ The moment the explanation was offered, Jenna hated herself for offering it. Doing so was tantamount to admitting that she had a need to excuse her actions to James, when the reverse was the truth. What need did she have to make any excuses or explanations of her behaviour to him? None. None at all!
‘And were you?’ he asked silkily. ‘Interested, I mean.’
For some reason Jenna felt as though the question had some hidden meaning in it that made her heart beat uncomfortably fast. It was almost as though James knew of her own inner turmoil, of her secret curiosity at lunchtime about her own reaction to Graham. About what it would be like if he ever attempted to kiss her or make love to her. To cover her inner confusion she said curtly, ‘Yes, I was.’ Her chin jutted defiantly as she added, ‘In fact, I’ve bought the entire set—ten chairs and a matching table. It will be just right for the dining-room.’
‘I’m sure, if you say so, it will,’ James agreed smoothly. ‘Since your car isn’t entirely reliable, why don’t I take you home with me, and we’ll arrange for the garage to pick yours up in the morning and look it over?’ He nodded coolly towards Graham dismissing him as though he were no more than a schoolboy, Jenna thought bitterly, while she fumed impotently at James’s side, unable to do anything other than offer a palliative smile as she accompanied James towards his own car.
She controlled her rage for just as long as she could, which was only about as long as it took for James to drive away from the pub car park, and then her feelings exploded out of control. Her face contorted with intense anger as she demanded furiously, ‘Just what was all that about, James? How dare you treat me like a child, embarrassing me like that in front of Graham? Dragging me home for all the world as though…’
‘As though you were my wife,’ he supplied ironically, adding with menacing softness, ‘oh, but I thought that’s what you are. Forgive me if I’m in error, Jenna.’
‘I may be your wife, but I’m not your exclusive property,’ she threw at him, forced to take another tack. ‘What did you think I was doing with Graham, James? Going to bed with him?’
Too late she saw the dark glitter spring into his eyes as he turned to look at her. The smouldering rage she could sense banked down beneath the icy control he was exhibiting both frightened and exhilarated her. Shocked, Jenna realised that she wanted to quarrel with him, that she wanted to provoke him to the point where his control was shattered into pieces, where he was as vulnerable to his emotions as he made her vulnerable to her desires. It was an intolerable burden this mingling of anguish and hatred that rode her beyond the point where she was capable of thinking rationally never mind behaving rationally.
‘Is that what you want to do?’ he asked at last, ‘because if it is I——’
‘You’ll what?’ Jenna demanded hotly. ‘Punish me by abusing my body?’ She laughed wildly. ‘Haven’t you done that enough already, James? Do you really find it so impossible to believe that I might want tenderness as an antidote to your cruelty?’
‘My cruelty!’ He laughed harshly. ‘My God, Jenna, I don’t know how you can say that to me. But let’s get one thing straight here and now. You won’t see Graham Wilde again,’ he told her grimly, ‘and I mean that.’
Jenna couldn’t speak. She was too disbelievingly furious to do so, but one thing was clear to her—James wasn’t going to tell her how to run her life. First thing tomorrow she was going to telephone Graham and accept his invitation for Saturday. And if that invitation extended to sharing a bed with him
as well as a meal? a tiny inner voice demanded relentlessly…Then she would accept, Jenna told herself. James was going to learn that she wasn’t going to allow him to dictate to her, to humiliate her, to subjugate her with his sexuality. She shuddered delicately and looked resolutely out of the window. Dear God, how she hated him! Hated him and hated herself for what he was turning her into.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JENNA rang Graham the following morning to accept his invitation for dinner on Saturday night. James was in the Georgian wing talking to the men working there, so Jenna knew that there was no chance of his interrupting her.
It was wrong that she should be made to feel guilty about telephoning Graham. She was completely free to make her own friends and spend her time with them if she wished. Even so, after she had replaced the receiver she was nagged by a feeling of having fallen below her own standards somehow and it enraged her that James should have forced her to behave in a way that made her feel she had been underhand. She was caught in a trap and she was reacting to it as instinctively as any wild animal might, twisting and turning desperately to fight free. But what was the trap? Her marriage or her enslavement to the sexual desire James seemed able to arouse within her at will? Even last night although she had been furious with him…Angrily she refused to allow her thoughts to form. She didn’t want to think about last night or all the other nights when James’s hands against her skin aroused her to such a pitch that nothing was more important than the hectic, remorseless need inside her to make love with him.
Shuddering she went back to her desk and tried to work, but it was useless. Lucy’s arrival gave her a welcome excuse to push the bills to one side and greet her.
‘Tell me all about London,’ she invited. ‘What did you do?’
‘Lots of shopping,’ Lucy laughed. ‘James said he’d never seen so many parcels when he came to pick me up. Definitely not a case of like mother like daughter…’ She made a face. ‘I’ve spent nearly half my allowance already and I haven’t even done any Christmas shopping yet.’
The allowance was James’s idea—it would, he had said, help Lucy to feel more adult and responsible, and Jenna had acceded to it.
‘Well, you know what James said,’ she warned Lucy. ‘No more until the New Year once this quarter’s been spent.’
‘I know. I’ll have to get myself a holiday job, I think…You and I aren’t a bit alike when it comes to clothes and money, are we?’ Lucy mused before Jenna could comment on this new mature attitude. ‘I mean, I’m hopelessly extravagant, and I love clothes and make-up and you…’
A sharp pang of pain ached through her as Jenna looked at the smiling teenager. Lucy was perched on her desk wearing an oversize sweatshirt and jeans, one slim leg balancing her chin while the other swung free.
She was so like Rachel at the same age and, like Lucy, Rachel had loved clothes and make-up. So had she…but once Lucy had been born there had been no time and, most of all, no money for such fripperies, and somehow over the years she had lost that heedless adolescent pleasure in buying herself new things. Now, new clothes were something she bought out of need rather than pleasure. Since she had come back from the Caribbean she had reverted to wearing jeans and cool tops most of the time. The only new clothes she owned were the ones James had bought her and the only time she had worn any of them had been when she had been going out with Graham.
To stem the guilty sensation spreading through her veins, she smiled at Lucy. ‘At your age there was nothing I loved more than a new outfit but somehow over the years…’
‘Tell me about this New Year’s Eve ball we’re having,’ Lucy interrupted eagerly. ‘James was talking about it on the drive home.’
‘Well, the Georgian wing will be finished for Christmas and we’ll move into it then so that work can start on the older part of the house, and James thought it would be a good idea to celebrate the completion of the Georgian wing with a fancy dress ball.
‘We’ve decided to make it a charity affair—I’ve been in touch with the vicar’s wife and she was telling me that they’ve been trying to raise funds to buy some new equipment for the local children’s hospital. From the enquiries I’ve made so far I think it will be a well subscribed event.’
‘Oh…fancy dress!’ Lucy exclaimed. ‘Fantastic! What sort of costume will you have?’ she demanded. ‘It will have to be something special. I know! Something Georgian to fit in with the décor. Where will you get it?’
‘Hold on. I haven’t got anywhere near thinking about what I’m going to wear yet,’ Jenna was laughing in spite of herself. ‘But I suppose you’re right,’ she conceded, ‘it will have to be something Georgian, although I’m not sure what or where it will come from. A hire firm, I suppose.’
‘Oh, no, you want something really special,’ Lucy argued. ‘Something that no one else has ever worn…I know…’ She scrambled down from the desk and ran over to the bookcases, searching along them until she found what she wanted. ‘This has got some drawings in it of fashionable clothes in Georgian times,’ Lucy announced, carrying the book back to the desk. ‘Why don’t you get someone to make you up a copy of one of them?’
On the point of denouncing Lucy’s suggestion as potentially far too expensive, the words died on Jenna’s lips as James walked into the room and asked casually, ‘Make up a copy of what?’
Before Jenna could speak Lucy was enthusiastically pouring out her idea to him.
‘Mmm. I think you’ve got something there, brat,’ he agreed, taking the book off her and flicking thoughtfully through the pages.
‘It will be far too expensive.’ Even to her own ears Jenna knew her voice sounded acid and defensive.
She expected James to argue with her, but instead he simply closed the book and shrugged, saying coolly, ‘Well, you know best, Jenna.’ He turned to Lucy and smiled down at her in a way that for some reason made Jenna’s heart ache.
‘I’m going in to York this morning—how about you and Sarah coming with me?’
‘Great!’
The house felt empty without them, and although Jenna tried to concentrate on the work she was doing for the renovation of the older parts of the house she found she could not.
James had already engaged an architect to design the conservatory-cum-swimming-pool that he wanted, and his plans had been presented the previous week. They were very well done Jenna had to admit, and the conservatory as he conceived it would fit admirably into the design of the house. As James had suggested, he had designed a building that was, in effect, a replica of a traditional Georgian orangery. Jenna suspected that James had gone into York to see the architect and approve his plans, and although one half of her was relieved that he hadn’t suggested she go with him, another…
Moving restlessly around the room she asked herself what was the matter with her. The only place she and James communicated was in bed, and that was a form of communication she bitterly resented. For the rest of the time he was coolly indifferent towards her, apart from those brief and disturbing flashes she had of a smouldering anger that seemed to lurk dangerously beneath his surface calm.
* * *
Saturday seemed to come round all too soon. Jenna’s conscience would not allow her to forget that she had deliberately gone behind James’s back in arranging to have dinner with Graham. Irrationally she blamed him for this irregularity in her own behaviour. If he had not made her so bitterly resentful and angry she would never have agreed to have dinner with Graham at all. But she had agreed, and some stubborn streak inside her insisted that she go through with it.
Uneasily she pushed aside the troubling knowledge that Graham was already far more emotionally involved with her than she had realised. She had been made very aware of that the morning she rang him to accept his invitation. She had thought he realised that there could only be friendship between them, and perhaps a light-hearted flirtation.
A dangerous thrill of excitement raced through her blood as she forced herself to accept the fact that G
raham was probably thinking more in terms of an affair than a flirtation. Part of her instinctively and fastidiously drew back from such a commitment and yet, wouldn’t it set her free from the powerful sexual hold James had over her if she could discover that another man could arouse her?
She liked Graham, liked him very much; she was flattered by his attention and admiration and had even wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. Therefore she was hardly indifferent to him. Even so, an affair?
But it need not come to that, and if she stopped seeing Graham now, James would think that once again he had won. She told herself stubbornly that that was not going to happen. Graham was her friend and she was going to go on seeing him and to hell with what James thought—and to hell with the consequences!
As chance would have it James was out when she dressed for her date. Having showered and donned fresh underwear—one of the pretty silk sets James had provided for her trousseau—she sat down to put on her make-up.
Lucy came in while she was doing so, and asked curiously, ‘Where are you going? James never said you were going out tonight.’
Jenna carefully smoothed taupe shadow on to her eyelids. ‘No, we’re not. At least, I’m not going out with James.’
‘Oh.’ Lucy looked disturbed, and Jenna gave her a rather forced smile. ‘It’s just a business dinner. I shan’t be back late. What are you and Sarah going to do?’
